#like damn take your time ig but not this much time

[italiangirlcoresblog]

main masterlist \\ carlos masterlist

-----------------••✩🌷🎀🫧✩••----------------

¿𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐨 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞?

✩ : oops, wrong latino!

𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦 : @ aleandrafrerk on ig (i think i might be gay for her)

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. : carlos sainz

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : humor, fluff

✍︎ : this was so funny to write for no reason. if you enjoyed it too, don't forget to like and reblog! (feedback is also super appreciated 🫠)

-------------------------❦︎-------------------------

calvinklein

Liked by just_yn and 379,596 others

calvinklein take it all in

@ badbunnypr

View all 1,092 comments

username1 oh what a great day to have eyes

username2 ck collabs never disappoint

username3 lives were changed (mine)

username4 how much for the model?

username5 🔥🔥🔥

username6 THANK YOU CALVIN KLEIN 🙏 we all say in unison

just_yn i mean if you ask so nicely

carlossainz55 🤨

just_yn nothing to see here baby scroll away

username7 BUSTEDDD

username8 not y/n trying to play it off 💀

username9 she spoke for all of us ngl

username10 we feel you girl

username11 i have nothing appropriate to say

username12 i think i'm pregnant

username13 NO BC WHY IS HE LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT

badbunnypr

Liked by just_yn and 4,891,651 others

badbunnypr calvin klein

View all 94,878 comments

just_yn FIRST

just_yn benito antonio martínez ocasio THE MAN THAT YOU ARE

just_yn un aplauso pa' mami y papi porque en verdad rompieron 🎺🎺🎺

username14 the trumpets bye 😭

just_yn father son and holy spirit

just_yn arms? check. abs?? double check. back??? CHECK CHECK CHECK.

username15 girl get up 💀

just_yn i'm good here thanks 👍🏻

just_yn i wonder how that cake tastes

carlossainz55 amor please

just_yn damn who hacked me HAHA

just_yn must've been my evil twin

just_yn so how was your day :)

carlossainz55 great until now

username16 carlos is fighting his demons

username17 his demons = a puerto rican in underwear

just_yn excuse you a SEXY puerto rican in underwear

username18 @ just_yn are you trying to break up with carlos or

just_yn nah he'd never leave me

carlossainz55 watch me

just_yn booo can't even handle your girl's celebrity crush 👎🏻🍅

carlossainz55 i am a celebrity AND your boyfriend

just_yn lameee 🙄

just_yn

Liked by charles_leclerc, lando, maxverstappen1 and 85,703 others

just_yn he won't talk to me but hey at least he's watching the @ calvinklein ad on repeat

View all 905 comments

carlossainz55 it's for research purposes

just_yn your search history rn: am i gay?

username19 we already know the answer to that

just_yn ⬆️

username20 girly really said "a win is a win"

carlossainz55 she didn't win anything

just_yn omg stop being such a sore loser

carlossainz55 i didn’t lose anything

just_yn that's exactly what a sore loser would say

lilymhe alex is acting up too, send help

just_yn williams please take back your drivers we don't want them

alex_albon rude 😢

lilymhe shhh the adults are talking

williamsracing boys behave

username21 LMAO HOW IS THIS REAL

lando i suggest making it up to him while he's still in bed

just_yn he won't let me 😩

carlossainz55 you didn’t ask?

just_yn CAN I

carlossainz55 no

just_yn 😒

username22 did i just witness y/n getting clam jammed by her own boyfriend

just_yn don't twist the knife

carlossainz55

just_yn uuuh

just_yn purpose of this video???

just_yn it's okay baby i saw it you can delete it now 🥰

just_yn i already know you're the paddock slut no need to remind me

just_yn bro put those arms away if you won't let me bite them

lando he will

carlossainz55 i won't

charles_leclerc he will

oscarpiastri he will

just_yn you heard them 🤷🏻‍♀️

just_yn whoring on main just to get my attention? i'm flattered

carlossainz55 i don't want your attention

just_yn me when i lie:

username23 it's the way he posted a thirst trap out of jealousy for me

username24 well if this is the kind of content he'll give us every time something happens i'm not complaining

just_yn me neither 🙋🏻‍♀️

username25 GIRL PICK A SIDE

just_yn it's hard okay

carlossainz55 you know what else is hard

♥︎ by just_yn

carlossainz55 loving you

username26 the gaslighting is strong with this one

just_yn mf you're supposed to break my back not my heart 😞💔

maxverstappen1 guys let's keep the conversation pg-13 there are minors here

kimi.antonelli technically i'm not a minor anymore...

maxverstappen1 technically it's past your bedtime

just_yn 🤓

username27 this whole situation is one big fever dream i don't know what else to call it

username28 it's their world we're just living in it

just_yn

Liked by carlossainz55, alexandrasaintmleux, carmenmmundt and 69,530 others

just_yn big present for my big boy

View all 878 comments

oscarpiastri so you're bribing him

just_yn i wouldn’t call it bribing

just_yn more like encouraging forgiveness

oscarpiastri is it working?

just_yn ask me again in an hour

username29 the switch up is crazy

username30 look at her becoming a loving girlfriend all of a sudden

username31 all it took was carlos flexing his muscles

just_yn i've always been a loving girlfriend wdym

username32 why do i feel like she actually bought it for herself

just_yn stop exposing me like this

username33 true love ❤️

just_yn listen to them @ carlossainz55 ‼️

carlossainz55 mi hermosa

just_yn me or the car?

carlossainz55 you

just_yn *wiping away tears* r-really?! 🥹

username34 THEY’RE BACK EVERYONE

username35 carlos gave in faster than a mclaren 💀

username36 they both fumbled so bad LOL

just_yn yeah we just love each other that much 😤

♥︎ by carlossainz55

username37 nooo girl stay strong don't let his biceps control you

just_yn too late ☹️

username38 aaand she folded

username39 let's be real we would've too

username40 guilty as charged

just_yn

Liked by alexandrasaintmleux, lilymhe, alex_albon and 72,990 others

just_yn look what this absolute legend got me for my bday 🤭 (swipe for a surprise 👀)

View all 960 comments

alexandrasaintmleux happy birthday gorgeous ❤️

just_yn 💋

charles_leclerc happy birthday!

just_yn 😐

charles_leclerc what did i do?

georgerussell63 happy birthday you crazy woman

just_yn where's your girlfriend? i wanna talk with her

georgerussell63 it's me, i'm the girlfriend

georgerussell63 i stole george's phone

just_yn legit

carmenmmundt two can play this game carmen

georgerussell63 dammit

lilyzneimer happy birthdayyy 🥳🎂

just_yn thank you babyyy 😚

oscarpiastri hbd

just_yn thx

username41 this interaction was so dry i need to drink at least three cans of red bull now

maxverstappen1 great choice

just_yn thank you so much for the birthday wishes max!

maxverstappen1 it's your birthday?

just_yn it's the day i officially give up

williamsracing happy birthday mrs sainz 🫡

username42 WHAT

username43 admin do you know something we don't???

just_yn yeah do you 🧐

username44 i'm really trying not to read too much into this

username45 OMG DOES THIS MEAN WHAT I THINK IT MEANS

just_yn guys chill we're not married

carlossainz55 yet

♥︎ by just_yn

just_yn you know me so well 🥰

lando ur 1 year older

just_yn anything else you want to share with the class?

lando ur basically closer to lewis' age than mine

lewishamilton something wrong with that?

lando no sir

just_yn *cough cough* suck-up *cough cough*

alex_albon damn who is that fine babe in the first slide 😍❤️‍🔥

just_yn ew leave my wife alone you perv

lilymhe that's right i'm a wedded woman

alex_albon @ just_yn i will fight you

just_yn try me bitch

username46 are you and lily going together?

lilymhe sadly not, i'm busy that day 💔

username47 who is the other ticket for then

just_yn take a wild guess

username48 not carlos

just_yn yes carlos

username49 THE IRONY

username50 ok but i don't think he's free either(?)

just_yn 20th april — 2nd may: 2 weeks break / 23rd april: concert 🤩

username51 HE CAN'T ESCAPE IT I'M CRYING

username52 why is carlos looking at us like it's our fault 😭

username53 dude was NOT happy

username54 i swear i can feel him staring into my soul through the screen

username55 the genuine disappointment in his eyes is killing me

username56 that's the face of a man who's done with life

username57 more like done with y/n's bullshit

username58 THIS IS GOING TO BE GOLD

carlossainz55

Liked by just_yn, charles_leclerc, lando and 1,636,939 others

carlossainz55 the REAL birthday present 💐

View all 10,156 comments

just_yn i don't think i know what you mean

just_yn love u tho <3

username59 i'm pretty sure this is the first normal pic of y/n i see

username60 no bc same

username61 honestly slay

username62 how did carlos even bag her

username63 i have a few ideas

username64 @ username62 he's literally one of the best looking drivers on the grid???

username65 if not THE best looking driver

username66 i love when hot people date hot people

username67 OKAY FACE CARD NEVER DECLINES

just_yn tell that to my credit card 😔

carlossainz55 you mean MY credit card?

just_yn ours 💝

username68 see how y/n handled the situation, 🎀very mindful, very demure🎀

username69 CUTIEEE

username70 her smile i'm melting 🥹

username71 she's literally an angel omg

alex_albon look 👀 like an angel 😇

lando walk 🚶🏻‍♀️‍➡️ like an angel 😇

alex_albon talk 🗣 like an angel 😇

lando 🎶BUT I GOT WISEEE🎶

alex_albon YOU ARE THE 👹devil👹

just_yn someone has been spending too much time on tiktok

username72 wtf is she plotting

username73 carlos' downfall

♥︎ by just_yn

username74 playing innocent after concert-trapping your boyfriend is diabolical

username75 QUEEN BEHAVIOR

username76 "you don't need some random singer when you have me" – carlos probably

username77 he's taking his revenge after that stunt lily pulled on him

username78 with flowers?

username79 we stan a simple man

username80 that's a GENTLEman right there

just_yn i'd like to disagree 😺

username81 @ just_yn ?

username82 @ just_yn ??

username83 @ just_yn ???

username84 THE EMOJI HELLO

username85 dom!carlos confirmed ✔️

username86 STOP

username87 HAND PLACEMENT 🛐

username88 oh to wake up next to shirtless carlos sainz

sainznews

90,280 likes

sainznews carlos and y/n tonight in puerto rico at bad bunny's concert!

WATCH VIDEO ▶️

April 23

View all 1,146 comments

username89 something very lgbt just happened to me

username90 THAT KISS GOOD LORD

username91 the way she pulled him in 🙏

username92 me next pls

username93 no way i completely forgot about this

username94 lolll so he did go

username95 looks like he had the time of his life too

username96 all that drama and for what

username97 he's actually singing louder than y/n i can't

just_yn *screaming

username98 AWOOP JUMPSCARE

username99 god i missed her

username100 @ just_yn I LOVE YOU SM YOU HAVE NO IDEA

just_yn and i love you random citizen🫵🏻🗿

username101 he... he knows all the lyrics...

username102 i'm convinced y/n straight up brainwashed him into liking bad bunny

just_yn i can neither confirm nor deny thy theory 😶‍🌫️

username103 that's suspicious

username104 that's weird

username105 carlos holding onto y/n for dear life like 👫

username106 relax bro ain't nobody taking her away from you

carlossainz55 you never know

username107 dude if you have trust issues what are we supposed to do 💀

just_yn

♫︎ Bad Bunny • NUEVAYoL

Liked by lilymhe, carlossainz55, badbunnypr and 134,453 others

just_yn "where's carlos?" "on the dance floor... 😰"

View all 1,418 comments

username108 YES GIRL GET HIS ASS

username109 calling out her fake hater bf 👏as👏she👏should👏

username110 i was behind them the whole time and seeing carlos dance was literally the best thing that ever happened to me

username111 stop i'm so jealous, i wish i was there 😭

username112 for the concert or carlos?

username113 definitely both

lilymhe Y/N Y/L/N

just_yn oh god not the full name

lilymhe YOU ACTUALLY GOT TO MEET BENITO IN PERSON

just_yn yeah well turns out dating a celebrity really has its perks 😉

lando @ carlossainz55 how do you feel about this?

carlossainz55 used

just_yn nooo haha don't ur very sexy too

username114 he looks so sweet omigosh

just_yn he is he is 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

just_yn he's like a human sized teddy bear

alex_albon did you let him sign your...

just_yn ...

alex_albon nevermind

just_yn no no finish that thought i'm curious

alex_albon 🍒 and 🍑?

just_yn cherries and peach?

alex_albon YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT I MEAN

just_yn do i?

alex_albon i'm leaving this conversation for the sake of my own sanity

just_yn you started it???

username115 WHO DAT IN THE BAAACK

username116 guys i think it's carlos

username117 LOL ARE U SERIOUS

just_yn that is in fact carlos sainz jr partying with none other than his sworn enemy bad bunny

username118 he-who-didn't-want-to-go

♥︎ by just_yn

carlossainz55 @ just_yn stop bullying me with random strangers online

just_yn you're no fun 😪

italiangirlcoresblog DID NO ONE NOTICE BAD BUNNY IN THE LIKES

-----------------••✩🌷🎀🫧✩••----------------

©italiangirlcoresblog // do not copy, rewrite, or translate any of my work on any platforms

[0coffeeplease0]

BOOOOOOO

did I scare you

Anyways a headcanon about the forsaken crew ( can be survivors or killers or both I ain't complaining) reacts to a stretchy reader (example: plastic man,luffy,Elastigirl,mister fantastic)

-by Mr bobby

Sure :D BTW I don't know if it's what you expected😭 *I said as Y/N stretched her arm out and dragged me to an asylum*

Forsaken Survivors + Killers x Stretchy GN Reader

Note: idk :p ooc characters

Warnings: None unless you are uncomfortable about people being stretchable ig, SWF/Fluff

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Survivors

Noob

•Noob would think that your ability is so cool, but he is a bit worried that you might stretch your arm to try and snatch his food away.

•Noob is grateful that you have that ability due to you saving his life multiple times when he was at the brink of death.

•He would definitely try to convince you to play pranks on the others, of course he would plan them and you would do them.

•He wonders if he can use you as a jumping rope...

•Noob would stay by your side on rounds, especially when he is in high spaces, if he is ontop of somewhere high he will use you as a parachute to escape the killer as he had fractured some of his bones from jumping off from one of the tall buildings in a map

Elliot

•He'd be a bit freaked out especially when you can stretch yourself and make yourself look like some human worm.

•Elliot had once stepped on you but he hadn't noticed because you were on the floor, stretched out like some carpet. It wasn't then that he looked down and noticed you.

•In round Elliott didn't have to worry much about following you to give you a pizza, he knows that you will stretch one of you arms out to get a pizza. Even if you were far away form where he was.

•Elliot would make you clean the higher places of the cabin since he wasn't that tall to clean the windows that were 10 feet above.

•Elliot isn't one to care about how the cabin looks but he wants to keep some sort of decency.

Guest 1337

•This man does not give a flying f#$% about your ability, he finds it useful but he dosent care.

•The only time he would talk to you was to ask you to turn into a rope to keep the killer down for a few seconds.

•He has tripped because of you multiple time either because you were stretching your hand out to get some pizza from elliot while you were far away, or because you were setting something up.

Chicken man/Shedletsky

•He dosent know how to feel about this.

•He thinks your cool.

•Would abuse your ability and make you bring things to him, if you are kind person, he will ask you to bring things to him, like a chicken in the fridge, a soda ect.

•In one of the rounds as he was fighting with 1eggs, he was getting whooped badly, but thankfully you had stretched your arms out and managed to drag him away from that danger.

Builderman

•He likes you.

•He thinks you're decent.

•Finds your ability very useful.

•in round he would make you stand far away from him while he builds a machine if a killer is about to take him your arms would reach out for him and bring him to your current location making enough time for you both to flee.

Chance

•Cool.

•He dosent really interact much with you.

•Chance would still remember the time you had saved him in one of the rounds. He was flipping his coin but luck wasn't on his side for some reason, and he was now at Weakness XX and he had rolled the dice but he was so unlucky that his health was at 74, and bad enough John doe was the killer.

•The way you had saved him was when John Doe was about to strike at him but you had stretched out your arm and grabbed him by the waist and threw him like a damn baseball towards Elliot and the others so he would stay safe.

•He appreciates ur ability.

Two time

Idk

Dusekkar

Idk

007n7

IDK😓

Killers

1x1x1x1

•They hate you and despise you!

•Because of you they can barley kill any survivors without your stretchy arms snatching them away before he could kill them!

•She is annoyed by you.

John Doe

•He will get angry and frustrated, just let him kill his victims without you taking Thema way before you could take away their life >:(

•He will start targeting you first.

c00lkid

•He gets annoyed that you take away his victims once he will kill them.

•He wonders if you can be a trampoline...

Jason

•dosent care

Mafioso(redisign)

•He would get frustrated by you, he was about to end Elliots life but you had intervene and managed to save the boy.

•Would send his goons to get you first but they always came back to him empty handed and bruised.

Ending note: :) idk

[honeyoats]

not this lady i follow on ig for cooking stuff full on telling us she threatened her son (threatening to take his toys away etc etc) to get him to eat more/better

[aeribbon]

you ready ? | carlos sainz

summary; when one time in ibiza, you made a deal with a random spanish man that if if in 5 years you weren't dating someone you would marry him... it's been 5 years !

pairing; carlos sainz x diplomat!reader

warnings; swearing ?? english isn't my first language !

an; also i'm taking requests pleaseeeeee give me scenarios i would gladly make them

fc; chiara king

navigation / masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

yourusername - 2016

liked by carlossainz55, yourbestfriend, and 235 others !

yourusername me after doing handstands in the pool to impress him but see ya in 5 years ig

view all comments

carlossainz55 I hope so !

yourbestfriend that is a crazy bet but i'm here for it

yourfriend1 damn you're stunning

yourfriend2 okay period girl that tan ate

yourfriend3 yummy

username mmhm why is carlos liking and commenting ??

▮ username literally ahaha no way the f1 gossip pages still haven't found this

(yn's pov)

5 years later

yourusername - 2021

liked by yourbestfriend, yourfriend1, carlossains55, and 789 others !

yourusername single life means gno everyday !!!

view all comments

yourbestfriend thank god cause i couldn't stand that ugly rat

▮ yourfriend1 and he had the audacity to cheat !

▮ yourusername gotta get that rebound tonight

yourbestfriend i need you to stop traveling, i can assume you pookie no need to work and leave me every monday

▮ yourusername ily babe but i'm not gonna fuck up 10 years of studies for you <3

▮ yourbestfriend well i tried, ...

▮ yourbestfriend GIRL HOLD ON HOLD TF UP CHECK YOUR MESSAGES

y/n's pov

yourusername - 2021

liked by yourbestfriend, yourfriend2, carlossainz55 and 1290 others !

yourusername i love my job

view all comments

carlossainz55 so... it's been 5 years ! you still up ?

▮ yourusername omg carlos hi

▮ carlossainz55 yeah hi y/n (liked by author)

▮ maxverstappen1 ☕️

▮ username WTF WTF WTF WTF WTF WTF

yourfriend2 when i'll buy france you'll be my prime minister and minister of international relationships

▮ yourusername how much will you pay me ?

yourbestfriend can i pls come with you next time

▮ yourusername no youre gonna distract me and yk i can't say no to you

▮ yourbestfriend i promise we'll go out only the last day !

▮ yourusername ok we might have a deal

yourfriend1 stunning

username let me spell gorjus right !

yourfriendwhichisamale loveeee never knew what i was missing

▮ yourusername bro if you don't shut up you're gonna make me fumble

▮ landonorris ouh 👀

▮ carlossainz55 cabron leave

carlos' pov

carlossainz55 - 2024

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1, alex_albon and 3m others !

carlossainz55 fell in love with her way before that deal trust me ! can't believe i actually get to call you MY wife after 3 years of relationship and the best years of my life, i love you y/n more than you could ever imagine ❤️

view all comments

yourbestfriend WELP I LOVE YOU GUYS

yourusername i love you too carlos and i think you've got an idea of how much i love you

maxverstappen1 congrats guys, i'm so proud of you guys and also for being part of that deal 😆❤️

▮ carlossainz55 shush that's a secret

▮ yourusername YOU WERE INVOLVED ?

landonorris my parents awww ily

username carlosy/n nation we are so alive omg

username i'm such a proud mom omg i love them so much

rúbendias congrats mate (like by author)

username their history is so wattpad coded please it's too cute for me

oscarpiastri can you please adopt me now ?

▮ charles_leclerc WHAT ??? NO WTF

▮ yourusername ofc my cutie osc anything for you my love

▮ carlossainz55 oh

▮ landonorris they're already my parents move and i'm y/n's favorite

▮ oscarpiastri i'm gonna hold your hand when i'll say this

▮ yourusername yeah sorry norris

yourusername - lake como

liked by yourbestfriend, carlossainz55, maxverstappen1 and 12k others !

yourusername made the deal for the plot but actually found my soulmate on the way, i love you carlos ! you're the love of my life ❤️

view all comments

yourbestfriend the way this story ended is my roman empire

username she's beautiful

username i knew this wedding wouldn't disappoint after seeing y/n's aesthetic

▮ username she's literally a diplomat and he's literally an f1 driver i was excepting something as big as they served us !

▮ username fr love them for this !!!!! this is so iconic imagine having your wedding in lake como

lilymunihe my baby i'm so happy for you awwww

▮ yourusername ily lily

carmenmmundt wedding of the year !! thank you for inviting george and i it was an incredible experience !

▮ yourusername awww thank you for being here carmen ily

username oh to be marrying the y/n

username idk if i want to be carlos or y/n

▮ username trust me i would kill to marry y/n

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ��─

i tried ahaha pls i would love to have your feed back or any ideas for an smau !!

[reysdriver]

Hello! I was wondering if it would be possible to write about Eddie coming over and you have cooked a big meal for the two of you and Eddie has never seen this much food. Used to a frozen meal or Mac and cheese, he is kind of scared to overindulge even though the food is mouth watering. Reader just wants to take care of him.

Eddie's stunned when you make dinner for him, and even moreso when it's the best thing he's ever tasted — eddie x reader fluff

warnings: ig just food and talks of Eddie's social status/living situation

words: 1.2k

Your multitasking skills were finally coming in handy for something important tonight. 

Tonight’s menu consisted of a main dish, sides, and dessert that you were making completely from scratch. And on top of all that cooking, you kept looking at the clock every two minutes to make sure you’re on track for when Eddie said he was coming over. 

Eddie Munson had never been a punctual person. He shows up late to class every day—which is part of the reason why he’s in his third senior year of high school—and all of his friends know to tell him to come at least a half hour earlier than everyone else because that’s the only way they can guarantee he’ll be there when they want. 

But he’s always on time for you. Whenever you have a date, he shows up exactly when he says he will. And when he’s even a few minutes late, he apologizes profusely until you promise that you’re not upset with him. 

You know he’ll be here at exactly seven o’clock, and it was almost time. 

Each tick of the clock reminding you that your boyfriend was on his way and you weren’t going to have dinner ready on time. 

You tried your best to rush the process, but the knock at the door caught you by surprise before you could fully finish cooking. 

You jogged over to the front door to let Eddie inside—even though you’ve told him before that he could let himself in—and you were met with his smiling face. 

He immediately snaked his arms around your figure and pulled you in for a kiss like he was a sailor coming back from a long voyage at sea. 

As much as you loved when he kissed you like this—and he did it quite a bit—you had to break apart because you had pasta on the stove that you were absolutely not going to let burn. 

“I’m almost done cooking dinner.” You told him as you jogged back to the kitchen.

“I thought you liked me.” Eddie says dramatically, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it aside. “Such a shame. I guess I’ll just go home.”

“This food took so much work. If you leave before trying it, I think I’ll cry.” 

“Well we can’t have that, now can we?”

Eddie waltzed over to where you were standing in the kitchen and leaned against your fridge, eyeing up both you and the food you were preparing. 

“What did you make?”

“Eddie, do you have any patience at all?” 

Your boyfriend shook his head, barely taking any time to think of his answer. “Little to none.”

Right after saying that, he started reaching for the covered desserts that you had placed beside the stove. 

“Yeah, I can see that.” You said while swatting his hand away and shooting him a joking glare. “Go sit at the table and wait until I’m done cooking.”

He sent you a flirty smirk before obeying what you asked of him.

“Yes ma’am.” 

As you plated up dinner, you and Eddie exchanged a bit of small talk since the both of you were trying to focus. You on dinner, and Eddie on how good you looked wearing that floral apron that was hanging from your waist. 

When you loaded plates and bowls onto the table, Eddie’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor. He couldn’t believe how much food you had prepared. It looked so colourful and smelled so damn good too. 

You hung your apron on the handle of the oven door and sat down across from Eddie. Noticing that he looked somewhat stunned and hadn’t yet taken a bite, you explained the dish like the chefs you had seen on TV. 

“It’s a creamy tuscan chicken. I found the recipe in a magazine.” You then pointed at the side dishes you made to go with it. “And then I made some rice pilaf and roasted vegetables to go with it. I know you don’t love vegetables but I added a balsamic glaze so it’s not so plain.”

He wanted to speak up. He wanted to thank you and tell you how excited he was to dig in. But he was still just so shocked.

Eddie had never seen this much food at once in his life. Especially not home-cooked food, and especially not on just a normal night. Neither Eddie nor his uncle Wayne had ever been good at cooking, and even if they were, their small trailer didn’t allow much room for food preparation. 

He was just stunned. No other word for it. Eddie saw all this food in front of him, but still couldn’t believe it was real. Or that his girlfriend made it for him for date night. He had to be dreaming, he was sure of it.

“Is everything alright?” You asked him, suddenly insecure about your work. 

“No! Wait, no, I mean ‘yeah’!” Eddie stumbled over his words, only now processing that you were across the table and waiting for him to say something. “It looks good, really good. Amazing actually.”

“It’s not too much? Or something you don’t like?” You asked, still unsure. “Because I could just pack it up for meals throughout the week and we could order a pizza or something?”

“No, it’s not that!” Eddie picked up his fork and eagerly scooped up some rice to prove he wanted the food. “There’s just so much, I wasn’t expecting all of this.”

“I made dessert too, brownies and chocolate chip cookies.” You said, pointing to the dish your boyfriend tried grabbing earlier. 

Eddie’s eyes widened, realizing that there was even more than what he was seeing. He didn’t believe you when you said you spent the whole day cooking—why would he? If a delicious pizza could be at his door in 30 minutes or less, how could anything good take longer than that?—but now he knew you were telling the truth. 

And now his mind was going a mile a minute trying to process everything. 

“Well now I feel like shit.” He said jokingly. 

“Why?”

“Look at this whole thing. Jesus, last week when I cooked for you, I made a can of Spaghettios!” 

“Well I liked that!” You told him, trying to clear his guilt. “I just wanted to do something special tonight and use what I know. I’m sorry it made you feel bad.”

“No, no, I was kidding about that, baby. It’s great, don’t worry.”

You smiled at him, happy that he was excited about the dinner.

“Okay.” You nodded. “Are you gonna try it, then?”

Without another word, he took a piece of the chicken and brought it to his lips. The second it touched his tongue, he felt like he had just eaten something made by Julia Child herself—and Eddie noted to himself that he should pull out that impression later.

It was easy to tell the emotions on Eddie’s face as he took that bite. So, satisfied with his reaction and proud of yourself, you started to eat too. 

With every bite Eddie took, he thought about marrying you just so he could eat like this more often.

[ducktoo]

Again

IVE’s Jang Wonyoung x M!Reader

Note: I have resorted to the sacred prompt list by Anon again….this helped me so much frrr. Hope you will post your first ever fic here so I can tagged you!!

This concludes the unofficial (or official ig) IZ*ONE marathon. @hyeyulenjoyer hope this was a fun ride for you. And thank you everyone for enjoying these fics as well! Also appreciate IVE for paying respect to the recent tragedy. All the dumb haters who find ways to hate them again....just touch grass pls.

(this was the perfect picture for this fic lol)

The tickets sit on your desk, undisturbed, their glossy surface catching the dim glow of your bedside lamp. You don’t even need to read the text printed on them anymore. The details are already burned into your brain.

A fan sign.

It was supposed to be special. The kind of thing you looked forward to for weeks, marked on your calendar with a little star. You were supposed to show up, tease her about messing up choreography, make her laugh in the middle of a serious performance, see that look in her eyes that was just for you.

Now, the tickets feel like a joke.

Your phone is face-down beside them, dark screen hiding the messages you haven't opened yet—the well-meaning texts from friends, the casual work notifications. All messages except from her.

Wonyoung.

You close your eyes, but it doesn't help. The memory of your last call with her is still fresh, the words playing over and over like a song stuck on repeat.

"I just don’t have time for this anymore."

"For us, you mean?"

"Mhm."

The way she said it—calm, measured, like it was just another item to tick off on her to-do list—had made something inside you crack. There had been no anger in her voice. No hesitation.

That…hurt more than anything.

You had wanted to say something, anything to make her stop. To remind her of the nights spent whispering over the phone until she fell asleep, of the rare moments when she let herself be vulnerable with you, of the way she would light up the second she saw you waiting for her backstage to take her to eat a whole cow together.

But you couldn't mutter a voice.

You had just sat there, phone pressed to your ear, fingers gripping the fabric of your hoodie so tightly it threatened to tear.

And then, just like that, she was gone.

It was three days ago.

Three days of checking your phone too often. Three days of convincing yourself you were fine. Three days of staring at these damn tickets on the desk and trying to figure out why you hadn’t just thrown them away. You should sell them. Give them to someone who’d actually enjoy them.

But something stops you.

Maybe it’s pride. Maybe it’s stubbornness. Maybe it’s the stupid, lingering part of you that refuses to admit that she’s really gone. Whatever the reason, you find yourself gripping them tighter instead of throwing them away.

You decided that you will go.

Not for her. Not to see her.

Just so you don’t have to sit in this room, drowning in thoughts of what used to be.

That’s what you tell yourself, anyway.

-

The venue is packed.

Fans shuffle forward in line, their chatter buzzing in the air like static. Excited whispers, rustling light sticks, the occasional squeal when a favourite member’s name is mentioned.

Your fingers tighten around the album in your hands. (Ironically you still hold onto her album)

This is normal for them. For the fans around you, this is just another fan sign. A chance to meet their idols, to share fleeting moments, to walk away with a signature and a memory they’ll cherish for years.

You should feel the same. Instead, you’re just… tired. Who could blame you, you’re about to come face-to-face with your ex-girlfriend.

And she has no idea you’re here.

Your grip on the album tightens as the line inches forward. The first few members greet you with polite smiles, their voices light and bubbly. You do your best to respond normally, but your mind is elsewhere, trapped in the inevitable moment that keeps creeping closer and closer.

You don’t need to look up to know she’s at the end of the table. You can feel her presence.

And then, suddenly, there’s no more time left.

Your album slides across the table. Long, slender fingers stop it in place.

There’s a small pause—so brief that no one else seems to notice—but you do. You feel it in the slight delay before she looks up, in the way her fingers tighten just a fraction around the album’s edge.

And then her eyes meet yours.

She looks the same. Flawless, as always. Every strand of hair perfectly in place, makeup soft and ethereal under the bright overhead lights. And those sparkly eyes that you often got lost in.

But…she’s not yours anymore. Not at all.

There was a flicker of something—recognition, surprise, something deeper—crosses her face. But it’s gone in an instant, replaced by a carefully neutral expression.

Her lips part slightly, but no words come out at first. Then…

“Hey.”

It’s awkward. Too awkward. You can feel the tension hanging between you, thick and suffocating.

You swallow, trying to ignore the way your chest tightens. “Hey.”

For a split second, she looks like she wants to say something else. Like she wants to break the script, ignore the rehearsed greetings and practiced smiles.

But then—

She doesn’t.

Instead, she picks up her pen, the mask slipping back into place. Her expression evens out, and in a voice so perfectly professional it almost stings, she says,

“Thanks for coming.”

Just like she would to any other fan. That made your stomach twists.

You should’ve known. Of course, she wouldn't acknowledge it. Not here. Not in front of all these people.

Still, it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “Yeah. Would’ve been a waste of money if I didn’t.”

Something flickers across her face, but it’s gone before you can catch it. She presses her lips together, nodding slightly. “Right. Can’t have that.”

She signs her name, her handwriting as neat and practiced as always. But there’s a hesitance in the way she moves, a slight delay before she lifts the pen from the page.

When she finally pushes the album back toward you, her fingers linger just a second longer than necessary.

Then, in a voice so quiet that only you can hear…

“Take care, okay?”

She’s looking at you now. Really looking at you.

And for a moment, just one fleeting moment, she’s not the Jang Wonyoung, the IT girl, the global superstar.

She’s just…Wonyoung.

The girl who used to call you late at night just to hear your voice.

The girl who used to lace her fingers through yours under the table when no one was looking.

The girl who told you she didn’t have time for you anymore.

You stare at her.

The words stick to your throat. You genuinely don’t trust yourself to say anything.

So you just…don’t.

You just take the album, stand up, and walk away. And even as you disappear into the crowd, you can still feel her eyes on you.

-

You’ve been doing fine.

Or at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

It’s been a few days since the fan sign, and you’ve buried yourself in anything that keeps your mind occupied—work, games, mindless scrolling through your phone. Anything to keep yourself from replaying the look on Wonyoung’s face at the fansign. From remembering the way she hesitated before handing your album back. From thinking about the way her gaze kept flickering toward you as you walk away, as if she was looking for something.

Or someone.

But that’s not your problem anymore. You told yourself that the moment you left the venue.

Which is why, when your phone starts ringing at an ungodly hour, you almost don’t check the caller ID. Almost.

The second you see her name flashing on the screen, your stomach twists.

Jang Wonyoung.

The ringing continues, each second stretching unbearably. You should let it go. Turn off your phone. Pretend you never saw it.

But you don’t. Because deep down, you know you still want to hear her voice. So you answer.

“...Hello?”

There’s silence on the other end for a moment, followed by a soft giggle—breathy and drawn out, the kind that used to slip past her lips whenever she was feeling particularly affectionate.

"Dummmyy!" she hums, stretching your nickname like it’s some sweet, familiar melody.

“Wonyo. Are you drunk?” You sigh, ignoring the way your nickname for her easily rolled out of your tongue.

She giggles again, the sound loose and unguarded. "Mmm… maybe."

"Goddamn it." You rub your temples. "Where are you?"

A rustling noise filters through the receiver, followed by the distant hum of traffic. "Somewhere," she mumbles. "Some bar, I think. The girls took me out."

Figures.

You shift in bed, propping yourself up against the headboard. “It’s late.”

“I know,” she says, not sounding the least bit apologetic. “But I wanted to call you.”

You close your eyes, exhaling through your nose. “Why?”

She doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, there’s a soft exhale, the kind she lets out when she’s gathering her thoughts. Then, quieter…

“Because I miss you.”

Your fingers tighten around the phone.

"Don’t do that," you say quietly.

"Do what?"

"Say things you don’t mean."

Another pause. When she speaks again, her voice is steadier. "But I do mean it. I do miss you."

You swallow, trying to keep your voice steady. "Well, that’s not my problem anymore, is it?"

She goes quiet.

For a moment, all you hear is the faint sound of music in the background, the distant chatter of people. She’s probably in the back of some high-end bar or a private lounge that someone of her status often went. You can picture it too easily—her long hair falling over her shoulders, her lips painted red, the glow of the city lights reflecting in her eyes.

Your heart beat rapidly at the image.

"You came to the fansign," she says suddenly, cutting into your thoughts.

You rub at your temple. "Mhm."

"Why?"

"You already know why."

"Say it anyway."

You sigh. "Because I had the tickets. It would’ve been a waste."

She lets out a humourless laugh. "Right. Can’t have that."

Something about the way she repeats your words from that day makes your stomach twist.

There’s another long pause. Then, almost hesitantly.

"Did you feel anything?"

Your eyes widened. "Feel what?"

"When you saw me again." Her voice is quieter now. "Did you feel anything?"

Your jaw clenches. You want to lie. Want to say no, not at all. That it didn’t matter. That she doesn’t matter. But you can’t.

Because the truth is, you felt everything.

The way your heart clenched when she looked at you. The way your stomach twisted when her fingers hesitated over your name. The way your mind screamed at you to move on, to stop letting her affect you, to stop caring.

But you don’t tell her any of that.

Instead, you settle for, "Who cares anyway."

"Why not?"

"Because we’re done, Jang Wonyoung."

She sucks in a sharp breath, and for a second, you wonder if she’s about to cry.

"You-" She stops, swallows. When she speaks again, her voice is unsteady. "You didn’t even try to fight for me."

Your grip tightens around the phone, knuckles turning white. "You were the one who ended things. On the phone, may I remind you."

"I know," she whispers. "And I thought it was the right choice. But now I just—" She breaks off, voice cracking slightly. "I don’t know anymore."

You shut your eyes.

It would be so easy to give in. To tell her that you don’t know either, that you still think about her, that you still wonder if maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t supposed to end like this.

But what’s the point?

She made her choice.

And you’re tired of being the one left picking up the pieces.

"You’re drunk, Jang Wonyoung," you say, voice carefully even. "Go home and go to sleep."

"Wait—"

"Goodnight."

And then, before she can say another word, you hang up.

The silence that follows is deafening.

And yet, for the first time in days, you finally let yourself breathe.

-

Or at least, it should be.

You did the right thing, you tell yourself—cut it off before it could spiral any further. Before you let yourself believe, even for a second, that anything has changed.

But still, the weight in your chest lingers.

The room feels too quiet now, the kind of silence that presses in from all sides, making it impossible to ignore the thoughts creeping into your head. You lie back down, throwing an arm over your eyes, willing yourself to sleep.

You don’t know how much time passes before you hear it.

A knock.

You freeze.

At first, you think you’re imagining it. Sleep-deprived, emotionally drained, and still reeling from that damn phone call, your brain must be conjuring things that aren’t real. But then, the knocking got more insistent. Erratic, yet insistent.

Your brows furrow. You sit up, straining your ears.

"Who the hell…?"

It’s almost 3 AM. No one in their right mind would be visiting you at this hour. Then again, you just got a call from a drunk girl not in their right mind.

Knock, knock, knock.

It’s louder this time, clumsy and uncoordinated, like whoever’s on the other side can barely keep their balance. A sinking feeling settles in your stomach.

You begrudingly throw off your blankets and push yourself up, padding toward the door. Your hand hovers over the handle for a second before you sigh and pull it open.

And there she is.

Wonyoung.

She’s standing there in the dim, flickering hallway light, wrapped in a thin coat that does nothing to protect her from the cold. Her long hair is slightly tousled, the glossy perfection from the concert gone, strands falling loosely over her shoulders. She sways just the slightest, a delicate wobble on unsteady feet. Her lips are slightly parted, eyes glassy—not just from the alcohol but from something else. Something unreadable.

You blink.

She blinks back, like she’s just now processing that you’re standing in front of her.

Then, with absolutely no warning, she wobbles forward, collapsing against your chest.

You barely manage to catch her. “Jesus—Wonyo.” You gently hold her arms, steadying her. “What the hell are you doing here?”

"Surprise," she breathes, half-laughing, half-sniffling.

You let out a sharp breath. “Surprise? You’re seriously—” You stop yourself, jaw clenching. “How did you even get here?”

"I took a taxi," she announces, like that explains anything. Like that justifies her showing up at your door past midnight after breaking up with you.

You stare at her. “Alone?”

“Mmhmm.”

Your stomach twists. “Wonyoung, do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”

She just hums, leaning more of her weight onto you. Her forehead presses against your shoulder, and you can feel the slight tremble in her body.

You sigh, tightening your grip. “You’re freezing.”

“I was walking.”

“Walking where?”

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she tilts her head back to look at you properly. Her lips part slightly, like she’s about to say something—something serious, something she’s probably been holding in for too long. But then, she hiccups.

You close your eyes, exhaling sharply through your nose. “You’re unbelievable.”

She smiles lazily, like she didn’t just show up at your door dead drunk in the middle of the night after breaking up with you.

"You hung up on me," she murmurs.

You pull back slightly, just enough to see her properly. “Yeah. I did.”

"That was mean," she says, pouting. "I was talking."

"You were drunk."

"Still talking."

You shake your head, adjusting your grip on her. “Come on. You need water. And sleep.”

She hums, letting you guide her inside. “Only if you let me stay.”

You pause.

For a brief second, something in her voice sounds painfully sober.

But then she giggles again, burying her face in your chest, and you decide that you’ll deal with that in the morning.

For now, you just hold her close.

You sigh, pressing your lips into a thin line as you shift your grip on her. She’s barely standing at this point, practically melting into you like she has no bones in her body.

"Alright, come on," you mutter, wrapping an arm around her waist and leading her inside.

She stumbles slightly, her fingers gripping at your shirt as she giggles under her breath. "You smell nice," she mumbles.

You ignore that.

You close the door behind you with your foot, guiding her toward the couch. She flops onto it with zero resistance, her coat slipping off her shoulders. The moment she’s down, she tilts her head back, blinking up at you like she’s expecting something.

She doesn’t hesitate. Stumble inside like she belongs here.

And maybe that’s the problem. She did belong here.

And now? Now you don’t know.

Her eyes lazily drift across the apartment, lingering on the things she still remembers—the half-empty cup of coffee on your desk, the hoodie she used to steal draped over the chair, the faint indent in the couch where she used to curl up next to you.

Then she noticed your desk, the same desk where the fansign ticket sat just days ago. The same one she saw in your hands at the fansign days ago.

"You really came," she murmurs, not looking at you. "I didn’t think you actually would."

You shrug. "Like I said. Would’ve been a waste."

She flinches. Just the tiniest bit. But you catch it.

She exhales slowly, arms wrapping around herself. "It was weird."

"What was?"

"Seeing you there. But not... There, you know?" She fully looks at you now, and there's something raw in her expression. Something you’re not sure you’re ready to face. "You didn’t smile. You didn’t tease me like you usually do. You barely even looked at me."

"What did you expect?" you ask quietly. "You dumped me, Wonyoung. You can’t just expect me to act like nothing happened."

She presses her lips together, fingers gripping the hem of her sleeve. "I know."

You wait. Give her the space to say what she came here to say.

But she doesn’t. Not right away.

She defeatedly sighed, tucking her knees under her chin, looking smaller than she ever has before. She stares at her hands for a long moment before mumbling, "I don’t know why I came here."

You scoff. "Really? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you drunk-called your ex, then showed up at his apartment in the middle of the night without a plan."

She frowns. "I do have a plan."

You raise an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

She huffs. "Step one: get inside. Step two..." She falters, looking away. "...I didn’t think that far."

You shake your head. "Unbelievable."

Silence stretches between you, heavy and unspoken.

Then, barely above a whisper, "Do you hate me?"

You freeze.

Your first instinct is to say no. Because of course you don’t hate her. You never could.

But that’s not the right answer, is it?

So instead, you tell the truth.

"I don’t know," you admit. "I want to. But I can't."

She looks up at you then, eyes searching. Hopeful and afraid all at once. "I messed up, didn’t I?"

You let out a hollow laugh. "Yea. Big time."

She swallows. Lowers her gaze again. "I thought breaking up would make things easier. For you…for both of us."

"Did it?"

She shakes her head. "No."

You run a hand through your hair, exhaling. "Then why did you do it?"

"I was scared," she says, and her voice is so small, so unlike the confident idol the world knows, that it almost hurts to hear. "I thought I was being selfish, holding onto you when I barely had time to see you. I thought you deserved more than stolen moments and rushed phone calls."

Your jaw clenches. "You didn’t even ask me what I wanted."

"I know," she whispers. "I thought I was making the right choice."

You sit down across from her, legs spread, elbows on your knees. "And now?"

She meets your gaze, vulnerability laid bare. "Now... I just miss you."

Your heart leaped a mile. This was the Wonyoung you always see. Not the glamorous and model-esque Jang Wonyoung everyone always see on TV. Not the well-spoken and powerful public figure everyone knows. Just…a gentle yet bubbly girl who snuggled up next to you on the couch at the end of the day.

But your brain should tell her to leave. To sleep it off, to sober up and think about this when her mind is clearer.

Then she reaches out—just the slightest, her fingers brushing against yours on the couch. And you don’t pull away.

"You’re drunk," you remind her, though your voice lacks conviction.

She smiles faintly. "Thanks…Mr. Obvious."

Silence. Then, tentatively, "Can I sleep here tonight?"

Another hesitation.

But just like before, you already know your answer.

You sigh. Your hand intertwined with hers.

"Go get a blanket. Wonyo."

She doesn’t move right away. Just watches you, like she’s memorizing you all over again.

Then, with a small, almost relieved nod, she gets up and stumbled into your bedroom as she dragged you along—the same bedroom she used to slip into after long schedules, the same one she used to call hers.

And just like that, the distance you tried so hard to create crumbles.

Again.

[felibrary]

wish you were sober

synopsis: in which you drunkenly confess to aventurine and he doesn’t believe you, rather believing that he’s not worthy, less even deserving of your love. despite that, his insecurity, you're under the belief that aventurine deserves all the love in the world. love - something that you want to introduce to him and show him “what it means to love you.”

pairing: aventurine x reader | wordcount: 2.3k (i’ve gone insane) | content & warnings: hurt/comfort, alcohol; they're both drunk, insecure aventurine, unestablished relationship, they label themself as friends but reader barely knows anything abt him LMFAO, dual pov, DO YALL GET THE REFERENCE IN THE SYNOPSIS LMFAO??, rushed ending icl, half assed-ly proofread; oneshot

a/n: yesterday i listened to wish you were sober by conan gray and was like “damn.. this’d fit sunday” but then i asked azul what he thinks cause i couldn’t decide between su**day and <aventurine3. and they replied with that it’d be so much more angsty with aventurine (okay not quote on quote but you get the msg) and i dislike su**ay anyway!! so boom! (y’all are still getting another sunday fic..yay..ig.....)

tags: beloved @azullumi <3 and @cherieiu (stop punching me)

“i love you.” 

your confession doesn't come over as surprising for aventurine, he anticipated it. just like how the ebb awaits the flood, yearning for it but disappearing as soon as it arrives. missing out on each other for just a split second, as the other party sweeps and slips away from the grasp of the other. nevertheless aventurine is glued to his seat on the rich sofa. 

colorful poker chips are splattered around the rich mahogany floor tiles, bottles of vodka and wine, some already with their cork removed and empty, others who haven't even been opened yet. a chandelier adorning the ceiling of the big room, its lightbulbs glowing dimly in the caliginous room, illuminating it.

one of the lamps flickers while the others continue to shine brightly - too brightly aventurine thinks, if he were to watch them any longer he’d feel like melting. the closer he got to you the sun, the deeper he'd fall into the bottomless pit he managed to crawl out of.

the room reeks of alcohol. is the temperature rising? he feels like every time the last number on the digital clock changes the warmer it gets. his blond bangs stick to his forehead and beads of sweat are running down his flushed cheeks - that answers his question.

it’s hot - humid even. he's not sure if he's able to bear the heat in this narrow atmosphere any longer. he tries to blow the sweat away by waving at his face with his hand, trying to cool off his face - a futile attempt. god, what's this a/c even good for, if it can't do it's damn job.

he opens his mouth with the intent of wanting to say that you're lying, that you shouldn't say stuff like that when you're drunk and that you'll regret later. but he doesn't, he refrains from doing so. instead he gulps down the words immediately, letter for letter. they're a bitter pillow to swallow. flowing down his throat like the wavering water running down a stream - intoxicating, similar to the alcoholic liquid you've downed.

the blond looks at you through half lidded eyes. you lift yourself off the ground, he takes notice that you have a hard time doing so, legs slightly trembling as you remove them from the floor tiles. (you've always been a lightweight he thinks)

as you make your way over to him, standing up and wanting to sit yourself next to him on the large black leather sofa. you clumsily bump against one of the almost empty shot glasses that still lies on the floor. tripping over the small glass as your foot comes in contact with it. the glass that still contained some of the red wine you've poured in, not too long ago, tumbles as easily as a domino tile, falling upon the smallest touch. making the flimsy piece immediately meet the ground.

it breaks into a few sharp shards and the remaining alcohol starts seeping out of it, staining your once white socks with crimson colored alcohol. “ah m’sorry!” you mumble as you quickly bend down to gingerly pick up the fragments, placing them in the palm of your hand carefully, so that they won't cut you and leave slits.

aventurine takes another peek at you as you tidy up. your face is flushed, your cheeks tinted in a bright red and you let out incoherent sorrys, blabbering incomplete phrases. he wants to tell you that it's alright. that he feels the same and reciprocates yours feelings, that you don't have to apologize and he'll help you.

but he freezes.

the words that he wants to tell you, the ones he's been longing to say don't leave his mouth. neither does he move. instead he coughs, continuing to watch you while you clean up. a tissue has found its way into your right hand, helping you soak up the alcohol. (its his hand that should be intertwined with yours, not the tissue)

his throat hurts. 

(he's not in the right mindspace to acknowledge if it's because of you - the unsaid words that he didn't reveal to you yet or because of the alcohol.) 

it's dry and lacks any kind of refreshing liquid that'd quench the drought that occurs in his throat. he contemplates, thinking about the choices he has. swallowing down his own spit isn't worth it, it makes his throat burn even more.

he comes to the decision to pour himself another glass of alcohol. (debatably his worst decision until now.)

twirling the almost translucent liquid in his glass, before fully gulping it down in one go. a bit of the alcohol escapes the depths of his mouth, running down his chin and messily staining his porcelain-like skin. 

he doesn't like the bitter taste, he can't seem to befriend himself with it. (neither can he befriend him with himself) although it's not the worst, he's just not able to find a reason to like it. after all, after a single sip it starts to sting as it enters his mouth.

the scent isn't great either, it smells strong, too strong for his liking, a scent that reeks of cleaning detergent and not to mention, it prickles on his tongue and burns as it slides down his throat when it makes its way into his blood. but there's one thing aventurine can't deny: it's efficiency.

it fulfills its purpose well making him lightheaded and dizzy, to the point of forgetting everything.

all sounds are drowned out. even the lame pop songs playlist you turned on because you insisted that “it'll set the right mood” is barely audible for him now. his ears hurt hellish, he wants to put his hands over his ears to escape the white noise. the sound that plays in his ears is similar to the one of when an airplane starts boarding - an unpleasant noise.

the only sound that remains for aventurine’s slightly drunk state is your voice. it echoes through his ears. your drunk confession playing over and over in his mind like a broken record, anticipating the day it'll be fixed, so the misery it is in ceases. 

his sloppy and sluggish movements - the way his hands tremble as he pours himself another glass, the nervousness that forms inside his body and the blush that spreads as quickly as a wildfire on his cheeks - they're tormenting him, and he blames none other than the alcohol for it. 

“a drunk mind speaks a sober heart, drunk words are sober thoughts, when you're drunk you reveal your true desires” his ass. the both of you are just friends. friends that are acquainted through work, nothing more, nothing less. aventurine couldn't bear to lose his only friend, after all he's already lost everything.

(anything he'd never want to lose will eventually be lost. it is as if fate had decided that everything that is worth wanting, everything that he wants to have and keep, will be lost the moment he gets his fingers on it. to aventurine there’s nothing worth pursuing at the cost of prolonging a life that is full of anguish.)

his father whom he never got to meet, his mother and sister whom he was forced to leave behind and kakavasha, his younger self. all will be lost - everything was lost. if he wasn't careful now, one slip up on the thin ice or feet accidentally trampling over the floor full of eggshells, he'd not only lose himself in the process, but you too. his one and only friend.

crossing this line he set for himself, as he drew it along the earthy ground with his calloused fingers, trembling as they traced over the mud.

walking past the border that was created to keep everything and everyone distant from him, as he stood on the other side turning his back from the world, walking away and waving, to bid his goodbye from them.

the wall he built around him to shield him from the world, protecting everyone from the ugly thing that was kept inside , protecting himself from the people that only want to torment him.

forgetting all of these things, leaving them behind for you would mean showing you who he really was. a frail human being that hides himself behind a mask. the theater curtains revealing the person who played the role of the man who had called himself aventurine for the past years. placing him in the spotlight and giving the audience a show they'll never forget, like the fool he is. 

aventurine doesn't think that he is loveable, that he's undeserving of love - your love.

you think that aventurine deserves all the love in the world. providing him with said love, embracing him and showing him how pure love can be. 

the blond caught your eye right away. he was charming, funny and handsome. aventurine turned into your little work crush, your motivation to convince yourself just to see him.

the road was rocky and full of obstacles, set up by none other than aventurine. it gave you a better perception of who he really was and it intrigued you even more. why does he hide himself away from the world? why does he convince himself to not get anyone close to him even though he longs for the touch of another person? who is aventurine, really?

you can't answer any of these questions and neither are you certain if aventurine really can but that doesn't stop you. you continue to climb up all the way to know who he is, who the person you fell in love with really is. 

love, is weird isn't it? it comes in all different shapes and forms.

if someone were to ask you why you like him, you wouldn't know how to answer, because neither do you know.

but nevertheless you still like him. why? how come you like someone that you don't even know, someone that is foreign to you, almost like a stranger. even though the both of you label yourself as “friends.”

you're not sure what the color is that infuses his irises, he keeps them hidden beneath his glasses. despite that, you long to stare into his eyes and let all the plain and dull parts of your life get painted in the same colors of his hues. a color that brings you comfort and cures your sorrow. it's the hues that you want to stare at as you tuck a golden strand of hair behind his ear, in return he grants you a small but genuine smile.

a smile that you want to see more often, one that you want to keep for yourself. 

as for his scent, every person has their own unique and special scent. you plead to the gods above that he’ll let you bury your head into the crook of his neck and absorb his smell so it becomes the only scent that lingers around your nose. 

there are so many more things that you want to know about him but you're unaware of. one might say that you're odd for liking - no, loving someone that you barely know.

a stranger, a foreign person whom you know little about to almost nothing about, is the person that you love. absurd isn't it? but love is weird, love can be pure and ridiculous, but it can also be painful and heart wrenching. love is a feeling that not only brings joy to oneself but also causes pain. but it's a feeling that you never want to get rid of - not until you introduced aventurine to it. showing him what love has to offer and has in store.

in the iridescent light aventurine remains to look as ethereal as ever. a scent of vodka lingers around aventurines figure, the smell is strong, but you couldn't care less. his hair is disheveled but nevertheless continues to shine in the dazzling light. he lets out a tiring yawn and you couldn't imagine aventurine any more beautiful than in this moment.

vulnerable and for your eyes only. making it unable for you to tear your gaze away from the sight before you. 

he's like a shooting star, if you don't continue to watch and follow it and blink, even if it's just for a single moment - it's all over and you'll never see it again. 

“stop looking at me like that.” aventurine mumbles quietly, almost whispering. upon hearing that, you make your way over to him, glass shards long forgotten as you place them on the small coffee table in front of the sofa.

your arms reach out to aventurine, clutching your hands on his shoulders. your grip is sluggish but you don't falter and continue to hold him. “like what?” your lips are slightly parted and your gaze is drowsy as you counter aventurine's question with a question of your own.

“like that.” he placed the hand that just rested on his thigh, on your cheek, slightly caressing it. “you're just gonna hurt the both of us if you keep this up any longer.” he's not sure where the boldness came from, he blames it on the alcohol once again; it finally seemed to kick in.  

“‘m not lying” you hiccup. tomorrow i’ll tell you how much i love you, no matter if it's once” a cough exits your throat “or a hundred times.” the words that leave your mouth are slurred, they're incoherent and muddled up. your grip on his shoulder weakens, hands slipping off and head falling against his chest.

..did you seriously just black out?

aventurine can only sigh at that. a small smile finds its way onto his face. he snakes his arms around you waist, snuggling his face into the crook of your neck and hugging you with the remaining power he had left before falling asleep. guess there'll be a lot to unpack tomorrow but for now he allows himself to indulge in this shared moment between the two of you. 

© VYNICITY 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms or feeding them to ai is not permitted.

e/n: hope yall enjoyed this as much as i hated writing this!! (i wanted to throw up) i acc hate how i wrote this. it's not as choppy as when i started writing it but it still feels so rushed and so idk.. anyway reblogs with comments are very much appreciated! >< ALSO that one paragraph written in brackets..guess whose speech it was inspired byyyyy (hint: bsd!!)

[forzarma]

Between the lines

Lando Norris x Law student!reader

A/N: ok amma just act like i didn’t ghost this app for months and came out if nowhere but here we are ig. Also the Brazilian gp??? What the heck like wild race istg😭

It all started one night in Monaco, on a break from law school. You were on vacation with a friend, celebrating the rare freedom that came with a brief pause in your intense study schedule. A night at the casino was not usually your scene, but your friend had insisted.

After about an hour, she’d struck up a flirtatious conversation with some guy who’d been lingering by the bar. You waved her off, telling her you’d be fine, and took a seat on your own near a roulette table.

That’s when he walked up. Unassuming at first, with that messy hair and a slightly cocky smile that had “trouble” written all over it.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, a hint of an accent in his voice.

You shrugged, amused. “Go for it. But I’m not particularly good at this.”

He chuckled. “Neither am I.”

You exchanged a few more jokes, but it didn’t take long for him to introduce himself, giving you his number in a smooth, unhurried way.

“Lando,” he said, his eyes glinting with mischief.

You stashed the number away without much thought. It was only the next day, when you mentioned the encounter to your little sister over FaceTime, that you realized who he actually was.

“Some guy named Lando gave me his number at the casino,” you’d said offhandedly. Her jaw dropped.

“Wait, Lando who??.”

You blinked, stunned, and then laughed. “I don’t know, apparently he’s famous”

“so it’s lando fucking norris what” she said wide eyed

She rolled her eyes, muttering, “Only my sister would be this oblivious to F1 drivers. I’ve been a die-hard fan since I was, like, ten, and you meet one without even knowing?”

From there, you let yourself get to know him, intrigued by how normal he seemed compared to the hype you’d suddenly realized surrounded him. When he asked you out, you thought, why not? You were used to focusing on your studies and keeping your personal life private, so it didn’t seem like much would change. But with Lando, everything was different.

-

Months later, you’d fallen into an unexpected but steady rhythm with Lando. Despite his career, he managed to keep things low-key. Neither of you posted much about each other. Hell, you barely posted anything at all. You were still a law student with a private life, and the last thing you wanted was for the whole world to know who you were dating.

One evening, you were lying on his couch, scrolling through your phone, when Lando turned to you with a sly grin.

“Babe, you know… you’re eventually gonna get caught, right? Someone’s going to snap a picture of us, and then the cat’s out of the bag,” he teased, nudging your leg with his.

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “Oh, sure, because every random person with a camera is just dying to know who you’re dating.”

He snickered, leaning in closer. “Maybe. But you know, it could be kinda nice… to go out sometimes. Like, properly. We don’t have to make a big deal of it.”

You hesitated, biting your lip. As much as you loved being with him, the idea of being recognized—or worse, photographed—made you cringe. Your accounts were private, your life simple, and you weren’t sure how you’d feel about people seeing you with him.

But, at the same time, you knew it wasn’t fair to keep him hidden away forever. So, you took a deep breath and gave him a small smile. “What if we make a deal?”

His eyebrows shot up in interest. “I’m listening.”

“You can have me at the paddock,” you said, already dreading the idea. “But my accounts stay private, no tags, no ‘girlfriend reveals’ on Instagram. I’ll show up, I’ll be there for you but I’m not trying to become some celebrity.”

He grinned, leaning in to kiss you softly. “Deal. Although I can’t promise you won’t end up in a couple of team photos. You know how they love to catch every damn moment.”

You chuckled, trying not to think too hard about what you were signing up for.

-

A couple of weeks later, you were lying in bed with Lando, scrolling mindlessly through Instagram, when you felt a pang of guilt.

“I never actually told you about my sister,” you said suddenly.

“Oh?” He looked over at you with interest.

“Yeah, she’s been obsessed with F1 since she was like, ten,” you explained, laughing softly. “She’s begged me to take her to a race for years, but I was always too busy with school. Now she’s a full-on Ferrari fan… and she’s probably never going to forgive me for dating you.”

He grinned, intrigued. “A Ferrari fan, huh? That’s rough. Maybe I can convince her to switch sides.”

You snorted. “Good luck. She’s already sworn allegiance to Sebastian Vettel. In her words, McLaren’s colors are ‘an offense to her soul.’”

Lando laughed, shaking his head. “Well, in that case, we’ll have to win her over somehow. Why don’t we bring her to a race? I’ll make sure she gets the best seats, full experience,

You raised an eyebrow, surprised. “She’d lose her mind. Seriously. Are you sure? Because I can tell you right now, she’d never root for McLaren.

“Absolutely,” he said, squeezing your hand. “If she’s as big a fan as you say, she deserves a proper race weekend. Plus, I think it’s time we officially break her ‘Ferrari-only’ heart.”

-

On race day, you and Lando arrived at the paddock, and immediately, heads turned. You’d chosen a classic, chic outfit and despite your initial nerves, you managed to keep your cool.

You spotted your sister down the row, and her jaw dropped as soon as she saw you. She approached, barely able to contain her excitement, though she shot a mock glare at Lando.

“Such a shame I don’t like McLaren,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied with a grin. “You just wait. One lap, and you’ll be a fan.”

She rolled her eyes, but you could tell she was thrilled, practically bouncing on her heels as she looked around at the spectacle. She turned to you, eyes wide with disbelief. “You’re really here… at a race. I don’t know whether to thank you or disown you.”

You laughed, nudging her playfully. “I’m still not a fan, if that helps.”

She huffed, pretending to be offended. “I guess I’ll forgive you. But only if you bring me every single time from now on.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur of cameras, fans, and the hum of engines. You couldn’t deny the rush of excitement that came with being part of the chaos, even if it meant being in the public eye. And when you saw your sister’s face, completely lit up as she took in every second, it felt worth it.

-

The relationship slowly became public, just as you and Lando had agreed. You kept your accounts locked down, but fans began to recognize you, and a few photos of you two at the paddock circulated on social media.

Your sister stayed true to her Ferrari fandom, texting you regularly to tease you about your “betrayal.” But every now and then, you’d catch her slipping in a comment about McLaren usually something along the lines of, “Okay, that car looks pretty badass.”

One evening, Lando turned to you with a satisfied grin. “I think we’re doing alright, don’t you think?”

You looked around the Monaco apartment you’d somehow started calling “home” without even realizing it, at the life you’d built together. You leaned over, giving him a soft kiss. “Yeah, I think so, too.”

In the end, you realized you didn’t need to post, announce, or shout your relationship from the rooftops. Being there for each other was enough, even if it meant sharing some of the spotlight.

After all, Lando may have been the one the world wanted to see, but you were his, and that was more than enough.

[toraochi]

MORE BREEDING KINK!!! MORE

william afton and henry emily having a breeding kink with their s/o - nsfw headcannon. I'm back ig

warning: breeding, swearing, name callings and minors dni

notes: thank you for liking my content!! you asked and I shall delivered, encore !!!

William Afton

he was crazy, crazy stuffing you full of his semen inside you. heck even thinking about it makes him go feral all of the sudden.

as much as he enjoys killing kids while stuffing them in a suit, he likes to also stuff kids inside you too.

he can't stop thinking about creaming in your little pussy that he loves so damn much, god he couldn't resist

this man is a creep. would literally hump dry ur panties because he can't cum inside you rn.

after he came home to you, he immediately slammed your body into the wall and started snaking his hands into your thighs, wanting that stupid fucking panties be off and have his way to you.

mating press. no buts. he will fold you in two as keep pounding in your sweet pussy because he loves how his cock is just fits perfectly.

he also likes to cum inside, he ain't like the mess after all

"You take me so well, I'll make you a bitch in no time."

Henry Emily

this guy. this guy is a busy man.

but you know one thing he won't be forgetting is how your cunt hugs his member so perfectly.

he found out that he had a breeding kink after you ride him and you refuse to let him pull out.

gosh seeing his cock creamed while still inside you still reminds him of this day.

he was hard, so fucking hard in his pants .

he called for you, leaving the animatronic that he was trying to fix in the past 4 hours in his basement, your twins are probably sleeping now

you came for his call, just for him to grope your sweet juicy breast, still producing milk until this day.

he started pinching your nipples as little dribble of milk spurs out. he wants to lick it.

he didn't even touch you yet you're so wet. he proceed to grind on your ass, wanting to have a release after a long day's work

his cock just melts inside your sweet velvet cunt as he whines on how he is gonna add another angel to the family

"let me make you pregnant mama, let me breed you and stuff you with my cum oh god-"

[nastybuckybarnes]

Mouse Trap

Pairing: Ghost X Reader

Summary: Ghost's little mouse finds herself stuck in a trap. Who better to save her?

Warnings: Violence, Language, Angst, Fluff, kinda unhinged Ghost?, Torture ig, murder, Injuries, self-hate kinda i guess

Word Count: 2.5k

A/n: I'm literally in love with this little series, i think it will forever have a special place in my heart

~*~

Days go by since Ghost last saw you, since he fucked you, and the skulls seem to disappear once again.

His little street mouse has disappeared without a trace.

Ghost is a man of logic. A man who can use the information at hand to come to the most realistic conclusion.

And, in this case, you've realized what a fucking nutcase he is and have decided you never want to see him again.

I mean, what else could it be?

His sour mood is taken out on anyone and everyone unfortunate enough to get in his way.

And today is no different.

His brows are permanently furrowed and his grip on his riffle is unwavering as he and Soap do their rounds.

The Scot is quiet for a long while before deciding to try and poke the bear.

"Still nothin from yer mouse?" He asks, knowing damn well the answer.

Ghost says nothing, doesn't even address the fact that the man has spoken.

"You ever think of... lookin for her? I mean, she doesn't exactly spend time in the safest areas," he presses.

If Soap hadn't spent as much time with the bigger man as he has, he wouldn't have noticed the slight falter in Ghost's steps.

Sure, he'd looked for you, but the idea of you being hurt or even killed wasn't one he entertained.

In his mind, no one would be stupid enough to touch what's his, but people have certainly tried before.

His world shifts slightly, the tension in his shoulders changing. He's no longer worried that you're hiding from him, no. Now he's wondering who would take you and where they'd hide you.

Those are the thoughts that occupy his every waking moment for days, until he finally gets his answer.

While combing the streets for any sign of you -or the hostiles he's supposed to be looking for- there's a gift from God.

On the ground, in what looks alarmingly close to blood, is a skull drawing. And a trail of the same blood-like substance leads him better than breadcrumbs.

"Soap, on my six," he murmurs into his radio, carefully following the blood trail as it leads deeper into the city, into enemy territory.

Soap is quick to meet up with the Lieutenant, eyes and ears peeled as Ghost comes to a halt outside of an old office building.

"Wha're we doin' here, Lt?" He asks quietly, watching his back as Ghost picks the lock.

"Savin' my mouse."

The lock opens with a soft 'click' and he shoulders the door open, staying low and scanning the first room quickly.

He motions for Soap to follow and the Scot does, sticking close as the slowly sweep room after room.

As they go up the stairs, Ghost slows, tilting his head to the side as he hears the sound of muffled voices not far away.

He follows the sound, being extra careful as the voice gets louder and louder, until he can make out the words.

His stomach drops the tiniest bit as they approach the third floor.

He's done this countless times, this should be no different.

But it is different.

You're in there. He has no room for error. Not when your life could be on the line.

A man is speaking, and Ghost takes that as his cue to creep into the hallway.

Soap grabs his shoulder, giving him a strong look.

"This could be a trap. We should call the rest of the team."

The skull-faced man only stares at him for a long while then tugs out of his grip.

"S'not a trap, Johnny. She's in there. You wanna leave, go. M'not leavin without her." With that, he turns back to the hallway and moves forward.

Though he has his doubts, Soap follows closely behind, staying silent as the voice gets louder.

Other sounds are able to be heard now, too. These ones confirming Ghost's suspicions.

Feminine grunts, groans, and cries of pain.

At the sound of your voice, a switch flips inside of the large man and he's quickly and silently moving forward, taking down any hostiles in his path. Anyone that stands between him and you is promptly killed, dropping to the ground with quiet 'thud's.

The man that's been torturing you drops his knife onto the table and yanks your head back by your hair, forcing you to look at him again.

"I'm gonna ask you one last time, doll face: who sent you?"

Your eyes roll in your head for a moment before finally focusing on him.

It's been several days of this, if not longer, and you're starting to worry that your Ghost, that Simon, isn't coming for you.

You still stay strong, saying nothing.

This only seems to aggravate him further. He drops your head and walks back over to his table of torture toys, looking for something suitable for what he has planned for you.

Your eyes flutter to a movement in the doorway of the room, and you feel your heart fill with hope as one of the guards gets yanked into the hallway.

Familiar eyes peer into the room, immediately locking on yours, and you feel safe.

He's here. He came for you.

You knew he would.

He presses a finger to his lips, urging you to stay silent, and you give him a soft nod of understanding. Your eyes flutter back to your kidnapper, and you watch as he picks up a pair of pliers.

He clicks them together a few times then turns to face you, a wicked grin on his face.

"If you're not going to use that tongue, there's no sense in having it, is there?" He asks rhetorically.

He steps forward, grabbing your jaw roughly, and then he's collapsing on top of you, his blood spilling across your face.

You let out a startled scream, jerking your head back as he rolls onto the floor.

The room is suddenly filled with chaos.

A gun is pressed to your head, and Ghost has another man in a headlock, his eyes on yours.

"Keep those eyes on me, Mouse," he orders, making sure your gaze is locked on his as he snaps the mans neck.

"Don't come any closer!" The man holding the gun to your head warns, pressing it against you harder.

You wince but your eyes never leave Ghosts. Not even when he produces a small blade and whips it at the man beside you.

Ghost steps toward him as he writhes on the ground, yanking him up by the collar of his shirt and ripping the blade out of his eye socket.

"That's for lookin' at her. Imagine what m'gonna do to you for touchin' her," he snarls, big hand nearly crushing the man's windpipe.

You stare at them as Soap comes to your aid, freeing you from the rope binding you to the chair.

"Maybe, if you apologize nice and proper, I'll let you live," Ghost whispers, his eyes empty and hard as he looks at the man.

"Look at her with your good eye and tell her how sorry you are."

The man's head whips around to you and he stutters out an apology.

"Now, tell me how sorry you are."

He turns back to Ghost with his mouth open to apologize and you flinch as another gunshot rings out, and then he's crumpling to the floor in a heap, blood pouring from both eyes.

You stare at his corpse, at the dead man who threatened your life, then slowly bring your eyes up as the man who saved you approaches.

"How's she lookin', Johnny?" He asks, crouching down in front of you as Soap presses some gauze to your thigh tightly.

You whine at the pain, and Ghost gives one of your hands a squeeze.

"Not great. Bleedin' real heavy. We can drop her off at one of the med tents and-"

"Not happenin'," Ghost interupts.

He pulls you from the chair and carefully lays you on the floor, working with Soap to try and slow the bleeding as much as possible.

Your head spins as the adrenaline slowly leaves you, and you lift a hand in search of your big soldier.

"Simon," you whisper, vision going blurry.

Soap's eyes shoot up to you, shocked that you know the Lieutenant's real name. He can't help but wonder what exactly would happen when Ghost would go on patrol alone. How many nights were spent with you if he's trusted you with his name.

Ghost grabs your hand in an instant, his eyes over yours.

"M'here, Mouse."

Your bottom lip quivers and tears streak down your temples into your hair.

"Tired... so tired," you whisper.

He shoots Soap a worried look then gives your hand another squeeze.

"I know, but you can't sleep yet, Mouse. We'll stop for a coffee on our way back to base, how's that sound?"

You frown, edges of your vision slowly going dark.

"Simon," you whisper once more, pushing your hand up to dust over his masked face.

Soap watches, eyes full of wonder as Ghost, the man who just murdered over a dozen people, is soft and gentle with you.

Your fingers smooth over his masked lips, and then your hand is tumbling down beside your head and your eyes are falling closed.

"No, none of that. Eyes on me, Mouse. On me."

You try, you really do, but you just need a moment to rest. That's all. Just one moment.

~*~

You're in and out of consciousness from that moment forward, finally fully coming to in a dimly lit room.

You're groggy and confused, blinking several times to get the fog clouding your vision to go away.

When things finally clear up, your heart jumps in your chest and you look around frantically.

This isn't familiar.

None of this is.

"Easy, Mouse. You're safe. M'here."

Except that.

Your eyes dart over to the source of the sound, finding those familiar piercing eyes.

Instinctively, you relax and reach for him, stopping with a hiss when something tugs at your arm.

"Easy, love," Ghost murmurs, reaching out and taking your hand in both of his.

Tears well up in your eyes and you look away from him, shaking your head.

"'S'alright, little one. M'here. Not goin' anywhere anytime soon."

It's true. He has no intention of leaving your side until you allow it. Something he has made explicitly clear to the members of his team.

You look up at him with big teary eyes and his icy heart cracks in his chest.

"Don't make me go. Not back to city, please," you beg quietly.

His gaze softens and he shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut for a brief moment before tugging his mask up over his lips and leaning down to kiss your knuckles.

"You're not going back there. Not if I have any say in it."

Your breaths start coming in faster, more shallow, until you're hyperventalating, one hand grasping at the gown on your chest.

Everything is too much. Too constricting, too enclosed.

You can't breathe.

"Hey, hey! Eyes on me."

You obey, your eyes finding his once more, and he nods encouragingly.

He brings your hand to his chest, flattens it against the thin shirt, and you can feel his heart beating against your palm.

"I want you to breathe with me, Mouse. In... and out."

You slowly copy him, slowing your breathing to match his and keeping your hand against his warm chest the entire time.

Eventually, the feeling of his skin only one layer away is too distracting. You slide your fingers up to the small area of skin between his shirt and his balaclava, stroking it gently.

Your breath hitches at the feeling of his flesh against yours, and you lean toward him, desperate to feel more of him.

He leans forward and takes your other hand in his and you stare in awe, pressing your palm against his. His hands are rough, calloused and hardened, but they feel so good, so right against yours.

You slide your fingers up his forearm, tracing the scars, veins and tattoos while your other hand wraps around the back of his neck, slipping under the back of his balaclava and tangling into his hair.

"Simon," you whisper, tugging him closer by the nape of his neck.

He leans in, scarred lips tilting up in a soft smile at the sound of his name on your tongue.

He presses his forehead to yours, his eyes falling closed a moment after yours.

Carefully, he nudges his nose against yours, then tilts his head to slot his lips against yours.

You kiss him back softly, tugging away after a moment and drawing your brows together.

"What?" He asks softly, his free hand coming up to stroke your cheek.

"Where do I stay? Here?"

He shakes his head, pulling back a bit more after pressing one more kiss to your mouth.

"You'll stay with me. Unless you'd prefer your own room."

You're shaking your head before he's finished speaking, and he nods knowingly.

"Then you'll stay with me. We should only be here a few months longer. Then you can come home with me, if you'd like."

He'd be lying if he said he hasn't given much thought to the future. But after this? After nearly losing you before he truly got to have you? He's not willing to let you leave his side.

You only nod, eyes full of awe and adoration.

He gives you one more kiss, then gets up to get a med officer to check on you.

~*~

You spend a few days in the medical wing, and then, once you're given the go-ahead (under the ever-watchful eye of Ghost), you're changing into military-grade pants and a black t-shirt, and sitting patiently while Ghost laces up your boots.

"We match," you say proudly, beaming up at him when he rises to his full height.

He grins down at you through his mask, his eyes crinkling around the corners, and presses his forehead against yours sweetly.

"That we do, Mouse. Now, lets get you on your feet again."

He takes your hands and gently helps you to your feet, steadying you when you try to put weight onto your injured leg.

Your face screws up in pain, but you push through it, taking a few careful steps with his help.

"You sure you're ready?" He asks warily, watching you intently until you glare at him from the corner of your eye.

"Ready. Want to leave."

He nods, wrapping an arm around your waist and all but lifting you off the ground every time you try to step with your injured leg.

He leads you through the base, his glare sharp enough to have the onlookers scurrying out of sight.

Ever since he brought you back, bloody and wounded in his arms, you've been the talk of the base.

Who are you? Why does the Lieutenant like you so much? Can you be trusted?

That last question has plagued even some of his closest friends.

But as he helps you to the barracks, you lean further into him, you trust him at your most vulnerable, and he knows deep in his soul that you are someone he can trust.

Finally, after what feels like forever, he unlocks the door to his quarters and pushes it open.

The trek took far more energy than you'd like to admit, and you eagerly take a seat at the desk against the wall.

"You hungry?" He asks after a moment of silence, watching you as you look around curiously.

You nod, glancing up at him when he takes a step to the door.

"I'll be back in a minute. Try not to get into any trouble while I'm gone." He can't help but grin when you cross your arms over your chest.

Without another word, he exits the room, leaving you alone to explore.

You do exactly that, carefully taking in your surroundings.

There's a bed, a real bed, against the far wall. Across from that is a small wardrobe.

On the opposite side of the room is a door, and you find yourself limping over to it curiously.

You push it open and flick on the light, your eyes widening when you see the bathroom.

A proper bathroom, with running water that probably gets warm.

You turn the faucet on, watching in awe as it takes only a few moments for steam to start billowing. Your eyes follow the steam until they meet your own reflection in the mirror.

An audible gasp leaves your lips, and you lean forward, staring in a combination of disgust and horror.

You've seen your reflection since hiding out, but never quite so clearly.

The stitches at your hairline are crusted with blood, and you have bruises all over your face. Dark splotches that paint your skin in a way that makes your stomach churn.

How could Simon stand to look at you like this?

You splash some of the water on your face, hissing when it's a little bit too hot. Not a problem you thought you'd ever have.

Turning it down, you wait unti lit cools slightly to try and scrub your face clean, to make yourself more presentable for him, to look pretty.

No matter how hard you try, however, you can't clean the evidence of the torture from your face.

Hot tears streak down your cheeks and you turn your back on your reflection, angry that you ever dared to look at yourself.

At least before, you didn't know what you looked like. You didn't know what your Ghost had to look at, to touch, kiss.

"Mouse?"

You sniffle and wipe your cheeks quickly at the sound of his voice, opening the bathroom door a crack.

He takes one look at your face, at your red eyes and tear-stained cheeks, and he's pushing his way into the bathroom and inspecting you for injuries.

"What happened?"

You shake your head and tug on his balaclava gently.

"I want one."

His brows furrow and you can almost see the gears in his head trying to process what's going on.

"What?"

"Please. Want one... like Ghost."

He cups your cheek gently, big warm hand soothing your aching skin.

"Why? I like seeing your pretty face. Dont want you to cover it up if you don't need to."

This makes you tear up once more and you tug out of his grip, turning your back to him and hiding your face in your hands.

"Need to," you whisper thickly, "not pretty. Not now."

He's appalled by your words, stepping in front of you and gently pulling your hands away from your face.

"Where'd you get an idea like that?"

You sniffle and shake your head, avoiding his eyes.

"Broken... ugly..." Your eyes catch your reflection in the mirror and you glare at what you see, your bottom lip quivering as you try to hold back your tears.

A surprising rush of emotions floods him and he takes a few moments to breathe and steady himself.

He's not used to this whole softness thing. Not great at it, either.

"You think I'm ugly? I've got more bumps and bruises than you can count, little one. Scars, too. Does that make me ugly? Should I forever keep my face hidden from you?"

You frown up at him and shake your head quickly.

He could never be ugly, not to you.

"Then why are you any different? I see these," he strokes the mark on your cheek gently, "and it makes me want to protect you. It reminds me that you're fragile. Delicate. It makes me angry that someone would put their fucking hands on you, but thats it."

He pulls you into his arms and lays a few kisses on the top of your head.

"You're precious, Mouse. So very special, and so beautiful. M'more than happy to prove it to you if you don' believe me."

His voice drops a bit lower, as do his kisses, and you can't stop the smile that tugs at the corner of your mouth.

"There she is, there's my pretty girl," he whispers, kissing your lips briefly then pulling back once more.

"Now, you need to eat something and I need to debrief with Price. Rest while I'm gone, because you're not gonna be doing much sleeping when I get back."

[zorosangell]

I'm shocked at the lack of wano zoro fics involving a geisha reader tbh??? I'd expected to find more but there's NONE ... or atleast not ones that isn't your fic

but oh my goddd that geisha reader & zoro fic was beautiful but imagine after komurasaki allegedly dies orochi finds reader to be his new little personal geisha and inviting (demanding) her to come to onigashima with him n zoro poorly receiving the news that'd be funny I think,

⛥ﾟ・。 stupid

synopsis: part two of oiran -- zoro starts an argument over you going undercover as orochi's personal oiran. and it ends... interestingly.

cw: fluffy fluff, microscopic angst ig, zoro don't play about you, reader is just a girl (just like me fr), kinda suggestive

"No way in hell," Zoro denied, not even giving the matter a second thought. "We'll figure something else out."

"Zoro, please... think of Kin'emon... think of Momo."

"I'm thinking of you. And how stupid this plan is."

"It's not stupid."

"Coulda fooled me."

Your brows flattened, growing annoyed with his stubbornness.

'Forgot how much of an ass he can be...'

"Zo', you're being unreasonable," you crossed your arms over your chest, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Oh, I'm being unreasonable?" he cocked a brow, letting out a sarcastic laugh before stepping out the way of the door. "Then by all means, please go."

You smiled, surprised by the sudden change of heart.

"Really?"

"No!" he exclaimed, incredulously, eyes widened by the fact that you actually believed him. "Christ, (y/n), you might as well send yourself gift wrapped with a bow!"

"What the hell are you talking about?!"

"I'm talking about you!" he groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Look at yourself, (y/n)! You're what guys like Orochi dream about. A gorgeous, dolled-up oiran dropped right on his doorstep for the taking."

You paused a moment, processing his statement.

In preparation for your arrival to the Flower Capital—a trip you were already supposed to be well on your way on—you'd fixed your rain-ruined makeup and changed into new kimono, which you'd tucked away in the safe-house in the earlier days of your mission.

You also touched-up your hair, adorning your... everything with jewelry and ornate pins to make yourself look like an oiran fit for shogun.

Much to Zoro's displeasure.

But you weren't concerned with that.

What you were concerned with... was the last part of his statement.

"You think I'm gorgeous?"

Zoro's breath hitched, a crimson flush rising from his neck to his cheeks, and only intensifying as you stalked closer.

"I...! Well...! You...!" he stammered, slowly backing away while you pressed forward, until his back hit the soft wood of the door. "Quit tryna change the subject!"

"Okay~" you flashed a cheeky smile, moving even closer until your chest was pressed against his, forcing you to look up at him with innocent, doe eyes.

"And quit looking at me like that!"

"Like what, Zo'? Why can't I look at my handsome swordsman?" you cooed.

"'Cause I know you're trying to butter me up. And it's not gonna work," he deadpanned, crossing his arms.

"Dammit, Zoro! I can take care of myself!" you groaned, annoyed that your seduction had failed. "Why won't you let me do this? It's for the mission!"

"Damn the mission! I don't give a shit! Think about yourself for a second, (y/n)!"

You flinched slightly at his volume, and were quick to clam up.

Of course, he noticed this, and took a moment to reign himself back in, taking in a deep inhale through his nose.

"What do you think Orochi wants with you? What reason could a man like him possibly have for asking for you by name? He only wants one thing, (y/n)!"

"And you'd think I'd give it to him?!" you scoffed, incredulously, knowing exactly what he was talking about, and feeling offended by the insinuation.

"Men like him don't ask! They don't care about boundaries, and they don't take no for an answer!"

"So now you think I can't fend for myself?"

"I think you wouldn't have to if you just didn't go all together! I've spent time in the Flower Capital and these guys are nothing like the small fry you were dealing with in the country! They do whatever it takes to get what they want! And I'd rather not fuck up everything the crew has worked for by having to cut down the goddamn shogun for putting his hands on you!"

You faltered a moment, surprised, and he took the opportunity to grab you by the shoulders, pulling you closer until you both were flush against each other, and his lips only a breath away from yours.

"I don't think you understand that I would never forgive myself if something happened to you because I let you go and do something reckless," he stated, significantly calmer, though not without his firm tone. "You're not some sacrificial lamb, or a soldier for a better cause. You're a member of this crew... my right hand... and I'd..."

He faltered a moment, another flush of crimson rising to his cheeks.

"Be pretty inconvenienced if you didn't come back."

You raised a silent brow, a small smirk rising to your lips that said 'Really?'

He scoffed, avoiding eye contact.

"You get the idea."

With a playful roll of your eyes, you leaned forward, pressing a feather-light kiss to his lips.

He froze, turning stiff as a board as you rested your hands on his chest, before carefully pulling away.

"I get the idea."

With a slight sigh of relief, his shoulders sank, and his index and thumb came up to lift your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"So... no Orochi?"

You nodded, dutifully, the sight causing a certain stir within the swordsman's undergarments.

"No Orochi."

At that, he smiled, genuinely pleased.

Before anything—before Wano, before the Akazaya, before any old daimyo—your safety was Zoro's utmost priority.

And he'd be damned if he let anyone, even the fucking shogun himself, lay a single finger on you.

Using his distraction against him, you quickly wrapped your arms around his neck, swirling you both around before tackling him to the ground.

"(y/n)?! What are you—?!"

You placed a finger to his lips, the devilish look in your eyes forcing him to swallow thickly.

"If I can't do what I wanna do... then we're just gonna have to find another way to occupy our time..."

Slowly, but intently, you began to tug off your robes and sashes, your eyes not leaving his for a moment as you stripped.

And as day turned to night, and then night turned to day, and then day turned to night again, Zoro only had on thing on his mind.

Especially with you resting on his chest in a spent pile of sweat and bliss.

'This woman... is going to be the death of me...'

[milksnake-tea]

━━ say you still dare to dream .

Sunday has lost everything. His status, his home, his sister, all of it has slipped through his fingers, all for a failed attempt at salvation. Now imprisoned and destined to live his life in shameful shadow, you, his former subordinate, appear to offer him one last chance of redemption.

sunday x gn!reader

contains: aftermath of 2.3, depression, sunday at his lowest

word count: 1.5k

a/n: depressed sunday is my favorite sunday. like damn bro you got BROKEN ig this is what being rammed by a train 8 times does to a man... ANYWAYS. DONT TAKE THIS TOO SERIOUSLY THIS IS JUST ME DOING SOME WRITING PRACTICE WITH BEING DRAMATIC hunches over and dies

taglist: @sh0jun , @themoderatelyawesomeninja , @xphantasmagoriax , @rainswept , @lucensei , @akutasoda , @naraven , @scribs-dibs , @apathicace , @flurrina

“I can only allow you a few minutes at most,” says the woman in purple.

A devil in velvet, that was what they called her. Although she may not look like much - from a distance, you’d mistake her as yet another filthy rich vacationer of Penacony - up close, her snake-like eyes and elegantly poised stature, always ready to strike unsuspecting prey, told you just how dangerous she was.

Lady Bonajade, the Stoneheart of Credit and the most deranged loan shark the galaxy had to offer. She who does the impossible and creates miracles for the price of one’s livelihood.

She, who is currently the master who holds the life of the fallen Oak Family Head in her perfectly manicured hands.

You meet her chilling gaze with steeled eyes. With a deep breath, you force down the lodge in your throat.

“I understand.”

Jade smiles. It is neither threatening nor comforting, although you cannot help but feel unsettled by her calm amusement.

“Most of the Family has turned their back on Mr. Sunday,” she comments, crossing her arms and tapping one nail against her arm. “Why haven’t you, I wonder? Surely, a mere subordinate wouldn’t be so loyal to a traitor of this degree.”

You know better than to answer her. After all, all of her questions are rhetorical - tests. She already knows their answers, she just wants to hear them come from your lips.

But you don’t give her that satisfaction. Your silence is answer enough.

You walk past her and come before a heavily armored vault door. A bit much, in your opinion, for a man who has spent the majority of his life asleep. But he is also the man who had taken control of the Asdana system and nearly ascended into Aeonhood, so this level of security is to be expected.

Hundreds of locks and gears turn before the doors open with a hiss and a billowing of smoke. With a mental prayer to Xipe for strength, you step into the dark cell.

There’s little to no light in the small room, leaving you to wonder how Sunday had managed to stay sane all this time. You already know the cells are essentially soundproof, and with so little light, the Family’s prisoners were shut off from the rest of the world and their senses.

The brief rustle of chains catches your attention, and you turn your gaze to the iron throne at the center of the room.

Oh, how far he has fallen.

Once gleaming gold has lost its luster, reflecting not sympathy nor love like you had known them to, but defeat and a resigned acceptance. Fair skin has become drained and faded like that of a corpse. Feather-like hair, once so meticulously cared for, is ruined and frayed.

Bound are the hands that would never raise against another, and shackled are the wings that have never known flight. Caged is the bird who has known no other home; only now, his gilded shackles have become sullied, ugly, disdainful.

He is hollow, empty in every sense of the word - drained of what little vitality he once had.

“Sir,” comes your whisper. He doesn’t respond.

Your footsteps are heavy as you approach. Sunday’s head is bowed - something his pride would’ve never allowed back in the day.

Once upon a time, you had found his arrogance annoying, hypocritical even. Yet at the same time, it was endearing, knowing that even the perfect and saint-like Sunday had his faults. In a sense, it had brought him down to earth, it had made him human.

Seeing him like this, so despondent and defeated, makes you long for the days where he’d scoff at the IPC or make back-handed compliments for his own sick pleasure.

“Sir,” you repeat. You stop before him, and kneel down to one knee.

Sunday’s eyes flick to meet yours, before dropping down to his lap, as if he couldn’t bear to look at you. Out of guilt, or out of scorn, you don’t know.

“Why have you come?”

Your heart aches at his voice. It cracks from the days without use, deeper than his typical chirp.

“I am a sinner, a traitor to the Family.” Not once does he meet your gaze again as he speaks. “Visiting me…”

He exhales.

“You should leave.”

“I won’t.”

His hands clench from where they’re bound to the arms of his throne. Briefly, annoyance flashes over him, before he lets it wash away with a slump of his shoulders.

“It would be easier if you just- left me here,” he says painstakingly. “I am of no use to you anymore - if anything, I am a stain. Abandoning me… is the logical thing to do.”

“You and your logistics,” you sigh. “Did it never once occur to you that I cared for you as a person, and not just as my superior?”

His eyes are shaking. Sunday’s expression is pained, like that of a grieving mother.

“Why?” he asks again, his face straining as he tries to understand. “Why are you here?”

Your answer is simple. “To free you.”

Bitterly, the corners of his lips twitch in a cynical chuckle.

“You of all people should know that I was not meant for freedom,” he mutters.

You shake your head. “That is what you believe. Lady Bonajade and I agree that you deserve to have this chance.”

“Lady Jade, huh?” Resentment flashes in his irises as he scoffs. “So you intend to coerce me into accepting charity from the IPC?”

Hurt pangs at your chest and you flinch. “That isn’t-”

“Spare me the concern,” Sunday spits, turning his head. “I may have fallen, but I still have my pride. If that’s all you have to say, you can leave.”

For a moment, you are speechless. Then you are indignant, and you rise slightly, your brows furrowed.

“Why are you so willing to accept your fate?” you ask, almost angrily.

Sunday exhales. “What else am I expected do?”

“This can’t be how your story ends." Your fist balls up the fabric of your pants in its grip. “Locked away, isolated from the rest of the world - that can’t be what you want. It is too cruel a fate for you.”

For you, who loved humanity so deeply.

“Tell me,” you say, gazing up at the man who had torn his skin and carved his heart for the people. “Tell me you want to be freed, and I will do so. I’ll take care of everything. All I need is for you to say that you want it.”

He shakes his head, his eyes squeezing shut.

“I don’t understand,” he whispers after a moment of silence. “Why, for me…”

“What is there to understand?”

“This is unreasonable,” he starts.

“Not for me, it isn’t,” you say softly. “If it’s for you, nothing is unreasonable.”

His voice raises, trembling upon its crumbling pedestal, panic seeping into every word. “I don’t deserve that kindness - that mercy. I am a sinner, I am a traitor, I am-”

“You are a man worth saving.”

Sunday’s eyes fly open. He stares at you, eyes wide with surprise, his lips parted as to say something, only for the words to die on his tongue.

Your neck is beginning to hurt from how long you’ve been looking up at him, but you push the pain aside.

“The Sunday I knew was kind and gentle,” you say, subconsciously leaning forward. Pent-up emotions, cumulated through the years, begin to bleed into your voice, weighing it down. “He always looked out for the weak, and cared when no one else did. He put others before himself, and even if he was a little arrogant, he was selfless.”

“No,” Sunday protests weakly. “I am not- You- I-”

“You are so much more than you allow yourself to be.”

Rising from the floor, your knees aching slightly, you gently take the face of the fallen angel in your hand. Cradling him like glass, you force him to look at you, to look one of the many he’d betrayed in the face, and see the love for him despite it all.

“Sunday, do you wish for freedom?”

For the many years you’ve worked under him, his eyes have always been a cold gem, calm and unfettered. Never have you seen them glossy with tears, threatening to break at any moment.

You see fear and desire clashing as he grapples for the first time, a choice not for the people, but for himself. You see the beliefs that have been molded into him beginning to crack. You see the caged bird gaze at the world beyond his bars, and for the first time, want to soar beyond them.

Sunday’s lips open and close as he struggles to find the right words to say.

“Where will I go?” he asks instead, tearing his gaze away. It is answer enough.

You smile softly.

“Anywhere you desire.”

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[girl-lostconnection]

We are doing slow and steady because it feels right for me but frankly, if someone wants to talk about the au or has any thoughts of their own…hit me up, I’m dying to talk about this thing while it stews

Unsweetened Lemonade AU (part 3)

Warnings: bullying, food as coping mechanism, Punk!Ghost x Nerd!Reader, trauma bonding (in a way ig), harassment

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 4

Being bullied is a lot like constantly being in the spotlight. A bad kind of spotlight, one you never sure how to fully evade.

There are days when you think you mastered it and you can keep going with your life but it’s never lasts long.

People on average are very frustrated with the lack of response they get from you, sometimes it feels like it pushes them to be even harsher on you when you don’t cry.

You don’t understand why — relatives and older cousins often brush it off, advice to just “don’t pay attention to them and it will go away” or “don’t give them a reaction and they will get bored”.

It never works.

The more distant you are — the worse people get, the more vicious and dangerous their attempts to get a rise out of you become.

It hurts and it hurts and it hurts and it hurts.

Gets a little easier when you eat something — anything really, but sugar works the fastest and warm food soothes the best.

You are a big fan of potatoes actually, meals with them always feel a little warmer. A little better.

As if life can be not just tolerable but enjoyable.

The feeling never lasts, because a different one takes its place as soon as you are done with your food.

It opens up abyss in your chest, cold slimy feeling of it spreading under your skin like someone opened a can of worms inside of you and let them roam freely.

It makes you feel stuffed and on the verge of gagging, like you ate too much (you know you ate too much, it always happens, you just can never seem to stop in time — too hungry for comfort, too hungry for happiness, too hungry for love)

You hate this feeling.

You don’t know what it means but its not better than how school makes you shake and makes you feel lightheaded, sounds suddenly too sharp, everything too much, heart pounding like it wants to ram through your ribs.

You are scared and upset and you are so mad it makes you want to scream and rage, so maybe someone finally hears what feels like meltdown you’ve been having inside of your head.

Like screaming in the middle of the room, when you are on entirely different wavelength — people simply do not hear you.

Like the article you read about the whale who vocalised too high for others of his kind to hear — forever silent, forever lonely. The odd one.

Sore thumb of its family.

The thought makes you cry about the damn whale a little more than you should, but maybe that’s these bits of mourning you allow yourself for both of you.

Ghost isn’t sure he understands you for the most part because well…he never really wanted to — opposite sides of the loser spectrum, remember?

But there is something in the way you always brace for impact, in the way you know exactly how to stay under the radar, in the way you never cry in front of anyone no matter how badly it gets.

You start sitting with him during lunch, huddled closer to the wall so your back is covered. Every time you make your way to the spot across from Simon you give him something.

An apple, an orange, energy bar, half bag of candies, sandwich, juice box, a nice pencil (technically not a gift, you were supposed to just lend it to him but it looks like Simon Riley was raised in the damn forest and he doesn’t give it back. Should’ve known better)

And at this point it all feels a lot less like charity and a lot more like a bribe? An offering? (Can he consider himself a very vengeful god? Or a very moody spirit? Or (ha-ha) a really unpredictable ghost whose pill you sweeten up every time so he swallows it without chomping your bloody hand off).

Simon isn’t sure what to make of it.

Ghost just takes it, always stuffing it in his backpack quickly, like part of him expects you to snatch it away and laugh in his face. (Nice things aren’t for him but you keep bringing him stuff and he’s never gonna say no to free food or something nice. It’s his now, you already gave it to him and he almost gobbled it down, hiding it in his cheek like a chipmunk)

Realistically it’s not that anyone could laugh in his face and walk away unscathed because perpetually brooding and always ready to bite Ghost never pulls his punches. But still.

“What if”, you know?

Ghost doesn’t talk to you because he doesn’t know how to. What would you two even talk about?

But he makes one unfortunate comment about your appearances and gets a glare so scorching it makes fine hairs at the nape of his neck raise in something very akin to trepidation.

You hiss that it’s rich coming from him and his fucked up mug and suddenly Simon can’t help but snort, sound shocking both him and you — his cheekbones flashing red as he turns away.

A bone-deep part of him likes to see you flare up, likes to see the lights turn on in the haunted house you call your head.

He likes to see you biting, something in him finally content to hear the imaginary growl of your wounded animal.

This type of pain he understands. This is the anger he gets well.

His cup of tea, that’s for sure.

Ghost sits with you during lunches and other than that your paths don’t cross because well…why would they? You are not friends and he’s not your bloody knight in shining armour.

But there is a slight change, almost unnoticeable— like torturously slow shift of tectonic plates, like watching a pine tree grow, like cracks in years-old iceberg.

Ghost doesn’t seek you out but he notices ones that a different bully now (the first one is still nursing fractured nose, he hopes, fucking wanker) causes you trouble in the library — stands too close, lets his hands wander too loosely, offers to go “someplace quiet”.

Simon feels like a bucket of ice was just dumped on him.

Ghost cracks his neck and slings backpack over the shoulder, striding in the library like he’s one ominous icebreaker. Would suit him well, he’s used to ramming through problems with nothing but his body.

Ghost growls that library IS quiet and that the damn rubbish of a person should fuck off right now if they don’t want to know how it feels to have a broken nose.

Like the one their friends has, happy coincidence, eh? Surely that’s something they can have a little chat about.

Ghost drawls “chat” like it’s an insult and barely holds back the urge to snap his jaws in the face of the person who harassed you in the broad bloody daylight.

Simon herds you away deeper in the library, eyes scanning the space, finding a table in the corner and he just jerks his head — there. If you feel like reading your bloody books in a public space guess he will need to sit himself down too.

After all, your offerings?bribes?gifts? shouldn’t be in vain. Ghost despises charity and doesn’t need anyone’s fucking pity, much less yours.

But if it can be mutually beneficial arrangement…well, surely you can bring him two apples instead of one.

You look at him a little too long for his comfort but you frankly do not give a toss right this second. It’s absolutely insane and you never would have thought that in the past but you are actually relieved to see him.

Everyone knows that Simon “Ghost” Riley is aggressive cunt with chip on his shoulder and heavy paw of a hand.

But maybe it’s a good thing if you want people to leave you alone.

Maybe it’s a good thing that you don’t extend your hand and he doesn’t bite.

Maybe it’s a good thing that you stay silent — he guards your back while you do homework, you bring him food and don’t stare when he practically inhales it — his hunger palpable and dripping from the tips of his overbite.

You know the desperate raw intensity that makes people like you two crave the most basic of comforts.

Anything to fill the slimy void in your chest and his belly.

You find that you don’t mind. You aren’t sure if you care either (but something inside you clenches when he breathes out in relief and gobbles up container of baked potatoes you sneak in for him).

Simon isn’t sure how to feel about it either. It’s nice and he doesn’t do nice.

But maybe there can be some exceptions. Small ones. Nothing too big, yeah? You are not friends after all.

And he’s not your bloody knight in shining armour

Taglist: @figthoughts @pastelbabygirl19 @haven-1307 @viennakarma @itsmadamehydra

[kitten4sannie]

ᴀ ꜱᴍᴀʟʟ ᴀᴅᴊᴜꜱᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ

ᴀɢᴇ ɢᴀᴘ/ᴀᴜʀᴀʟɪꜱᴍ ➠ ʏᴇᴏꜱᴀɴɢ

pairing: personal trainer! yeosang x fem! reader

genre: pure smut

summary: you love your weekly visits with your personal trainer. he always stretches you out just right.

w.c: 2.4k

warnings: mean(ish) dom! yeo, sub! reader, 15 year age gap, seduction, teasing, sir kink, dirty talk, praise/degradation, pet names/name calling, auralism, groping, half dressed kink ig?, cumming untouched, oral (receiving), fingering, squirting, brief deep throating, unprotected sex on a yoga mat, creampie

a/n: i done lost it guys TT just imagining having messy sex with mean dilf yeo somehow adds and takes off ten years of my life at the same time like some pemdas shit aughhh… i hope you enjoy this filthy mess <33

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ᴘʀᴇᴠ | ꜰꜰꜰ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

“What do you mean you’re breaking up with me?” you gasped into your phone, holding a hand against your chest, personally offended that your boyfriend of six months would suggest such a thing. “And what about my personal trainer? He’s like fifteen years older than me. Baby. You really think I would do that to you?” 

“Y/N, I’ve seen him with my own eyes. I know you’re fucking him, and I’m over it. It’s over,” your boyfriend repeated into your ear, just ripping the bandaid off then and there. 

“You can’t do that. We’re not breaking up,” you scoffed, wrapping a lock of your hair around your finger, your lips forming a pout. “Babyyy, come on, you’re being so dumb right now.” 

“Goodbye, Y/N,” he quickly said, before hanging up. 

“Ugh.” Pissed off, you tossed your phone onto your canopy style bed, knocking one of your limited edition plushies off and onto the carpeted floor in the process. You turned to your full length mirror, glaring back at your scrunched-up face, your hands formed into fists near your tiny tennis skirt. “If he thinks I’m fucking my personal trainer, then I’ll fuck my personal trainer, alright.”

And so, your petty, self-righteous plan of spiteful revenge was set. You were a smart girl. You knew exactly what to do to get your ridiculously sexy personal trainer to break his professional and moral codes. All you had to do was wear something impossibly tight without anything underneath and moan a little louder when he was stretching you out. It was as simple as that. Right? 

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Yeosang was everything a woman desired, all the way down to his persistent ability to respect them. He respected you, almost too much in your opinion. Here you were bent over in a ‘stretching position’ right in front of him, wearing a too-tight pair of gray leggings and the tiniest sports bra known to man, knowing damn well he could see the way you had your tits all pushed together for his viewing pleasure in the mirror, yet his eyes remained on yours. 

“How does it feel, Y/N? Are you tight anywhere like last time?” Yeosang asked, his voice, like dripping honey, filled your body with a comforting warmth. He studied your stretching form, one hand resting comfortably underneath his scruffy chin, the other on his hip. 

Your knees trembled slightly underneath you, urging you to return to a resting position, eventually sitting on your knees. You looked up to him, your eyelids lowering slightly, a pout on your glossy lips. “Really tight, yeah. I think I need help, Yeo…” 

“Then, I need you to lay down on your back for me,” he replied in a soft, though stern tone that made your cunt pulse, getting down onto his knees beside you with a small grunt. “Show me where, Y/N. You can do that, yeah?” 

Just as you laid down on the yoga mat, a fresh wave of slick slipped out of you. Damn him. He should be getting worked up over you, not the other way around. How would it be an act of petty revenge if you were soaking wet just from hearing your personal trainer’s absurdly sexy voice? 

“Nnngh, it’s right here…” you exhaled, feeling out your stiff hips, looking up at him past your lashes. “I need some stretching out, I think.” 

“Mm, I see. Well, let’s get you taken care of,” Yeosang nodded as his lips curled up into a somewhat mischievous smile, positioning himself so that he was in between your spread legs, wrapping his hands around one of your thighs and gently pushing it down towards your body, causing you to gasp. “Just relax for me, sweetheart…that’s it…” 

You were about to lose your mind, trying harder and harder not to let out a pornograhic moan the more Yeosang pushed his body weight onto you, your lower halves practically flush together. You wondered if he could feel how wet you were through your leggings, knowing there were no panties to catch your slick. “Yeosang…fuck…” 

Yeosang pushed down a little further, nodding his head apologetically. “I know, sweetheart, I know it hurts, but it’ll be worth it,” He gave you a charming smile, his fingers squeezing into the flesh of your thigh, pushing you down further, until the ache of your muscles matched the ache inside your cunt. “Still hurts?” 

“No, it feels good now, keep going, Yeo,” you sighed out, your eyes glazing over with lust, gently running your hand over his, sensing a hint of desire when it began to peer through Yeosang’s own lingering gaze, his hands moving towards your other thigh, beginning to give it the same treatment. 

“That’s a good girl,” Yeosang praised innocently enough, pressing your other thigh down against your body, leaning his body weight on you just enough to drive you mad, you cunt clenching around nothing. His other hand slipped around your opposite hip, expertly massaging it around with his calloused fingers. “Mm, you’re almost there. Just a little more…” 

“Yes, sir,” you sighed out, swearing you heard Yeosang’s breath get caught inside his throat just as soon as you felt something hard and heavy forming against your lower abdomen, hoping you weren’t just imagining it with your overheated brain. “I’m still so tight, Yeo…be gentle…” 

Yeosang bit into his bottom lip, coming to terms with your current shared predicament, wondering if you were both on the same page, but not fully knowing if he should cross several professional boundaries or not. Regardless, here he was, already pressing his stiff erection into his very young, very horny client’s cunt through her soaked leggings. What did he have to lose? His license maybe, and the respect of his peers perhaps, but it was worth the risk, especially now that most of the blood in his body had left his brain and filled up his heavy cock.

“Gentle, huh?” he chuckled deeply, pulling back slightly to admire the sight of your soaked cunt through your slick-stained leggings. “Sure you don’t want it rough, considering the way you’ve been dripping for me this entire time?” He ran two fingers down the legging seam that separated your puffy folds, rubbing them into your clit, making you let out another gasp. “Thought you could hide this from me, did you? I could feel how wet you were getting…”

“Fuck– Nooo, Yeo, I just wanted you to see it for yourself,” you answered whinily, spreading your legs open just a little wider, grabbing at the waistline of your leggings to make the shape of your cunt more pronounced, your pout returning. “Do you like it, sir?”  

“Jesus, of course I do. My slutty little client shows off her wet cunt and thinks I wouldn’t like it? Huh? Did you think I would be able to hold myself back?” Yeosang shook his head out of disbelief of his insane luck, taking his time running his calloused fingers up and down your clothed slit, admiring the way the material formed to the shape of it. 

Fuck it. You were too desperate now to reclaim any semblance of control over the situation, your act of personal revenge long forgotten, your mind only having enough space in it to think about Yeosang and getting used by him.

“I did it because I want to be your slut, Yeo. Please? Can I? I’ll be so good for you.” You began to move your hips along with his movements, in desperate need of more friction, more pleasure at your disposal, begging him with your glistening doe eyes. 

“Of course you can be my little slut, princess. You already are. I mean, just look at you, whoring yourself out for your personal trainer like this,” Yeosang groaned out, just as he lifted your ass up into the air by your hips, licking his lips. “I’ll make you mine, sweetheart.” And with that, he tore your leggings open just enough to expose your leaking cunt, leaning down slightly to take a deep inhale of your warm, flowery scent. “God, you’re completely soaked for me, Y/N. You’ve been wanting this so bad, haven’t you? Just dreaming about my tongue inside this tight hole of yours, huh?” 

“Yess, oh my god, please eat me out, Yeo, I’m begging,” you squeaked out from below him, already teary-eyed, ready to beg on your knees for the older man’s attention if you had to. 

Yeosang took an experimental lick up your cunt, already collecting enough slick inside his mouth for him to swallow down happily, idly working your clit with two agile fingers. “Do you play with your little clit like this and think of me before you go to sleep at night, Y/N?” he asked huskily against your cunt, beginning to lap at your leaking hole, teasing it with his tongue. “Huh? Do you think about me stretching you out with my tongue? With my cock?” 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you moaned, just as Yeosang’s tongue fully slid inside you to rub at your inner walls, tongue-fucking you in a ravenous manner, his fingers still flicking at and squeezing your clit, your juices dripping down the lower-half of his face. “Fuck…! Yeosang…!” 

“Uh-huhhh…” he moaned into you, sending pleasurable vibrations through your cunt, eventually replacing his tongue with two more fingers, fucking you so quickly, you couldn’t even get a chance to breathe. “That’s it, baby, you’re so close, aren’t you? Going to squirt for me, yeah? Is my slut going to cum all over my face?” 

“Yes–fuck, Yeo–” you could barely call out, your muscles tightening suddenly, your lower half pulsing more and more until you let out an involuntary cry, clear liquid squirting out of you and pouring onto Yeosang’s face, spilling onto the yoga mat, and soaking into the material of your torn leggings, some dripping along your abdomen.  

“Oh my god, that’s a gooood girl, look at you…” Yeosang praised shakily, gently slurping up your squirt from your twitching cunt, moaning into it, his softening cock resting against his cum-covered inner thigh. “What a good little slut you are, Y/N.” 

“Good enough for cock?” you simply asked from below, reaching up to spread your cunt apart further for him, all while gazing up at him with barely open eyes, still swimming in your post orgasm bliss. “Wanna be stuffed, Yeo. Please?”  

Your adorably filthy behavior alone made Yeosang harder than he’s been in a long time, making him want to join in on the fun. He wasted no time positioning himself so that his knees were on either side of your head, slowly lowering his joggers until his long, veiny cock sprung out in front of your face. “I think you should drool on my cock for me first, princess. Maybe take it down that pretty throat of yours. Sound good?”

“Yes, sir,” you obeyed, opening your mouth wide enough to take what you could of Yeosang’s impressive length inside, gagging immediately when he began to fuck into your throat, dribbles of spit leaking down your chin. “Mmmfff…” 

Gutteral groans routinely escaped Yeosang’s throat, continuing to pump himself into your mouth, unable to release himself from the tight, warm confines of your now bulging throat. “God, you’re taking me so fucking well, princess. Wish I could watch you swallow my load down…” He suddenly pulled out, resting the tip of his heavy cock on your saliva-streaked lips, letting you lazily lap up the beads of pre-cum that spilled from it. “Gotta fuck you, though. I know that slutty cunt needs to be filled with cock.” 

“Fuck, yes, sir, give it to me,” you purred against his cockhead, sucking and slurping on it like it was candy, only stopping when he pulled away to lower himself down your body, until his cock was slowly pressing into your willing hole instead. 

“Doesn’t matter whose cock, huh?” he asked in his low, honey-like voice, wrapping his fingers around your hips, massaging into them like before, only this time he was sliding you onto his pulsing length little by little until he had completely bottomed out inside. 

“Mm-hm. I love cock, especially yours, Yeo,” you admitted breathily, the shame you felt only increasing your arousal, barely able to hook your thighs around his waist when he began to quickly pump himself into you, your hole swallowing his thick cock up each time.

“You’ll let a–fuck–older guy…someone who’s your personal trainer…nnngh…use you like their own personal cum dump and–” He pulled out suddenly, only to plunge himself deep into your cunt, making you cry out. “–pump you full of his cum as long as you’re getting stuffed and bred. Isn’t that right, baby?”

“Uh-huh…!” you cried, unable to keep yourself from moaning and whining each time Yeosang slammed himself into you. “Fuck me like the slut I am…Please, sir…” 

“Oh godd, I’m gonna fuck you so hard, Y/N, gonna fuck your goddamn brains out,” Yeosang gruffed out in between brutal thrusts, resorting to grabbing and holding your wrists down so that you couldn’t get away from him, drilling his aching cock into your squelching hole like he was getting paid to do it, which he technically was. Life was good for Yeosang.

Yeosang did indeed fuck your brains out. He fucked you until you didn’t know which way was up or down. The only thing that brought you back to reality was something warm and thick gushing inside you, Yeosang’s calloused hand holding your own down against your abdomen, his nasty words barely reaching your hazy mind. 

“You feel that, princess? All the cum I’m filling this whore-hole up with?” he asked you softly in between harsh pants, a few beads of sweat sliding down his sharp chin and landing onto your flushed face. 

You could hardly move, let alone form a coherent sentence. “Yes, yes, yes…” 

“I want to see it…Want you to see what I’ve done to you.” Yeosang slowly pulled out of you, milking the tip of his cock, groaning softly, leaving a few more spurts of his load on your puffy cunt, a few drops of it getting onto the torn hole inside your leggings. 

He gently turned you around, so that you were facing the mirror on the wall, reaching past your spread thighs to spread open your cunt with his thumbs, laying his lips against your ear, “Look. You got cum leaking out of you, your leggings are all torn up, and you got squirt all over the mat too...Do you see what a mess you’ve become for me, Y/N?” 

“Yeah, I see, Yeo. I love it…” You gazed at his hazy reflection in the mirror with hearts in your eyes, wishing you had seduced your personal trainer at an earlier date. 

Inhaling your flowery scent once more, Yeosang pressed a kiss onto your cheek, nuzzling it. “That’s my girl.” He tilted his head to the side, his hands rubbing into your sore hips. “Same time next week?” 

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© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[xxyuta]

nct as horny bfs

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warnings: pure smut lol

authors note: this lowkey took a while 🍷 but here it is ig! as our first post here’s a taste for all ;) ty for reading!! 💗 ≽^•⩊•^≼

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JOHNNY this little shit figures it out fast. he’s pretty damn smart and very observant so anytime you came to watch a practice he would see how your thighs pressed together, or the way your breath hitched anytime he touched you can and will tease the ever living shit out of you with this information. back hugs are mandatory, at least once a day now, just so he can subtly press his hips against you refuses to fuck you anywhere the two of you can get caught not because he’s worried about getting caught, no he just loves to get you all flustered and then leave you to deal with it until you get home. he makes up for it every time though. stamina? high af tbh i’m talking like 6-7 rounds before he’s done for the night if necessary loves eating you out too, he could do that for hours and doesn’t even care about how much his jaw hurts because the sounds you make are just too pretty for him to stop. it’d be a sin if he gets you too horny in public and you’re wearing a skirt or dress, he’ll get the two of you somewhere crowded and slide his fingers into you just to see how quiet you can be. he feels blessed that you’re so horny all the time because he’s nearly insatiable himself tbh.

TAEYONG is exactly the kind of guy to take over an hour making you desperate and horny for him, enjoying the view of your sensitive body squirming beneath him, craving some kind of release. seeing you like that for him, all just with his words and the occasional well placed hands, boosts his ego to no end, as well as making him literally rock hard. and the sounds you make when you're a hot, horny mess~ lord, he wants to record them on his phone and play them back full volume when he jacks off. honestly, he just wants to record you in general. take a video of you mewling for him. maybe snap a pic from above of you with your top pulled up over your tits, nipples hard, thighs pressing together, and with the most desperate look on your face while he’s with the other members.

YUTA surprisingly doesn’t make it clear enough that he’s horny. it’s almost like he doesn’t give enough of a hint for you to figure it out, or at least that’s what he thinks. you get it, he’s horny, so you take your time making him finally spill out that he wants you to pump his aching cock. and when you do good lord does he praise you. like “fuck princess so good for me”, “shit don’t stop- faster peach, faster” and “take your tits out for me- fuck! so beautiful”. he loves praising you because he knows how much it turns you on. rubbing your thighs in response just gets you wet enough for him to finally lift you (once he’s covered your tits in his cum) and onto the bed where he slips into you so easily, so wet and ready for him. he can be like this for the rest of the day but he’s always so busy that whenever he cums for you, good lord is it a lot. “fuck- look princess, look how much you made me keep inside me. poor me huh baby? cmon one more time let me fuck you” and he always says it so politely you just can’t say no. several rounds later is when he finally stops and admires the work of art on your body, cum everywhere. and one of his favorite things to do is grab his cum and let you lick it off his fingers, eyes teary.

KUN when he feels so tense and pressured gives you many reasons to feel anxious. because you know his favorite way to relieve all that stress is to use your pretty little mouth. He loves the way you lick his big cock with your much smaller tongue. licking the tip gently to tease him and taking him all down making him throw his head back, groaning with heavy breaths. when he’s getting close, you swallow around him, making your throat close tight around him. fuck he loves when you do this, and when he cums he pumps it all over your face. taking a picture when he’s done with you. this led him to obtaining a whole collection of your face, and parts of your body, with his cum, red marks, spit and other things he finds so sexy on you. Whenever you’re away and he doesn’t have you to make him feel better, he gets off at these photos (and videos) and he sends you a photo of the aftermath knowing you’ll send him something back to make him go for round two. eventually his phone rings from you and well, he answers with his cock on display, still aching and covered in cum. these calls are definitely your favorite with him…

DOYOUNG gets really shy when you start being intimate with him, but he really loves it. so much so that when you ask him if there’s anything you can do for him after a concert, he says “mm… there’s this one thing but it’s okay i’ll just go to sleep”. he always does this though and at this point it doesn’t faze you. you get up and straddle him on the bed, hands flying to take off his clothes. “w-what?” he asks stupidly. but you say nothing. he can feel him squirm around you as he doesn’t know where to put his hands. at one point you’re the one pumping his dick, licking his tip and riding him, moaning out of control and cum leaking from him. but before you know it you’re on all fours for him begging and pleading for him to fuck you harder, he fucks deep into you, making you clench the sheets with your hands. “can anyone fuck you this good princess? hmm??”. you can’t even let out a yes or no as you moan and cry into the mattress beneath you. but beside being in the bedroom and in private, he also tends to appreciate you in places like restaurant bathrooms and empty practice rooms, glancing from time to time at the door preparing for someone to walk in. he loves the way it’s so quick, so heated and steamy as he pumps his digits in your soaking cunt, leaving you to moan and whine as he does so (which ultimately makes him moan and whine with you). you end up squirting on his wet fingers as the room fills up with your heavy breaths, then both of you rush to get out of there.

TEN was pressed against the after you pushed him onto it. locking the door before you even thought of touching him. his shirt was pulled off as you kissed down his neck, your tongue occasionally lapping at the soft skin which sent shivers down his spine and his hands clutching to your shoulders in an attempt to ground himself. once getting to his chest, you noticed his puffy and pink nipples poking out, the small little buds enticing you so you just had to give one of them a kitty licks, loving how he would jolt with every wet touch them and let out small squeaks in embarrassment. his hands went up to your hair and gently tugged on the soft strands while whimpering for you to stop, fearing they would get swollen and hurt but you showed no care as you mercilessly sucked and licked them like they were candy, moaning at how responsive his body was with every touch to the little buds. looking up through your eyelashes, you made eye contact as you grazed your teeth against the aroused bud which made one eye closed as a shot of pain tingled across his chest but it only made his dick twitch. "b-babe.." he panted softly, hands leaving your hair to try to push you off but you only held his push against you, not leaving any room for him to escape. pulling away, a string of saliva attached to his nipple to your mouth made him gulp, "yes, baby?" you purred, tongue licking at the perky nipple which made him whine. "can you take off my pants and touch me, please?" he asked, his voice soft and whiny. “of course my love” you smiled before placing a kiss to his nose then unbuttoned his pants, pulling the zipper down to see he wasn't wearing underwear~

JAEHYUN dirty talk. that voice. i think y'all know what I'm talking about literally orgasmic. it's so deep, and smooth, and relaxing in a way that just gets you going. there's just something about it that makes you rub your thighs together. when he presses his lips close to your ear, his voice feels like he's caressing you all over, yes all over. you basically get high off his voice. cloud nine. he absolutely loves to talk dirty to you, telling you exactly what he's going to do to you, how pretty you look with your mouth around his cock, or how you're taking him inside you so well. he's got a knack for choosing exactly the right words, and it gets your pussy dripping and aching for him. he always says about how your pussy feels like it was made for his cock it fits so snug. loose enough that he can fuck you whenever, but tight enough that he has to work for it. but the dirty talk doesn't stop there. he uses that voice of his and those delicious words to drive you closer to your climax, his words getting cruder as his hips get sloppier, praising you to no end. he's not shy about what he thinks. he's incredibly straightforward about it. you're making him fucking horny? he'll tell you. you’re pussy is the best he's ever fucked? he'll tell you flat out while he's pounding into you. he thinks you look beautiful stuffed with his cock? he won't even hesitate. communication IS key isn’t it?

WINWIN doesn't ever tell you he's horny, instead he insists on watching a movie with you. but under the blanket, around 20 minutes into the movie, he brushes his hands against your thighs, inching closer to your pussy. you know what he's doing, but you let him. “baby…can you do me a favor” is what he says before you drop down to your knees on the floor and pull the blanket off him. you want him as much as he wants you. you make sure to suck him just right, I mean you've done this countless times, so you know how he likes it. he can't help but moan for you, letting out pretty noises that go straight to your core. he fists the blanket and sofa beside him, trying his best to not just fuck your mouth right there and then. eventually he cant take it anymore, standing up to fuck your pretty little mouth, making you gag as you take in his lengthy cock. “fuck babe- feels so good!!” he moans. you would reply, but your mouth is stuffed with his cock, twitching in your mouth signaling he's gonna cum. he cums deep far into your throat, telling you to say “ah” so he can see you swallowed it. winwin also can't help but drag you back onto the couch, fisting your hair and telling you “can you take me all?”. you look up at him with glossy eyes and he bites his lip. he flips you over and starts ramming into you. talkin bout “fuck- taking me so good baby” and “you like when i stuff you? when all you feel is my cock in you, making you feel so good?” he mocks at you. he knows you can't even speak right now because all you're doing is moaning into the pillow. he even laughs a little, seeing you take him down your best, just for him.

JUNGWOO is your sugar daddy. his life goal is to spoil and please you in a way nobody can ever do. he is currently in a meeting, but one of the black cards he gave you isn't working and he isn't answering your messages.. you start getting whiney and stomp to the meeting room not caring about all the other people in there. you slam the card in front of him “it's not working daddy!” you puff, he smirks and pulls you on top of his lap and continues the meeting. occasionally he kisses your neck. you whine and sigh moving around his lap trying to escape. “"hmm? what's the problem, kitten?" jungwoo replies as he continues to kiss your neck while talking to the people in the meeting, acting like nothings wrong. you sigh, getting more impatient, continuing to escape. as you continue to move you feel something hard under you.. you know exactly what it is. you look up at him with your glossy eyes and he looks at you smirking. you continue to move to try and tease him. you feel his chest rise up and down, soon enough you feel your mini skirt get pushed up under the table, his fingers moving your panties. you bite your lip as your wet pussy drips onto the floor on his shiny black shoes. you feel his middle finger pump into your sweet hole. you moan loudly causing everybody in the room to look at you, jungwoo looks down at you smirking “what's wrong kitten? everything good?” he teases “y-yes sorry daddy…” you mumble and moan softly. you whine quietly as he pulls his finger away waiting for the meeting to end. “shh my precious baby. we’ll continue this when we get home, be a good girl for daddy and let him finish this meeting and I'll make you squirt, kay~?”.

MARK comes back from practice hot and tired, and he can't help but think of laying down with you, pleasuring you. you'll be in your room, or the living room when he comes and lays next to you, desperately separating your legs. “baby, please” is all he says before you agree to him. he dives right in, lapping at your wet cunt, sucking a little when he feels your hands in his arm. “mmm” he groans into you, sending shivers through your body. he praises you as it makes him feel better, knowing he's making you feel so good. “such a pretty cunt, just for me” “gosh princess, you're soaking..” “taste so sweet…could be here all night long” is what he says to you. he loves looking into your eyes and seeing how your eyelids flutter with his every movement. when you cum, he offers for you to cum on his face (so he could take a picture and save it for himself). he dips his finger into it and tastes it, giving you puppy eyes as he thanks you. mark also gets riled up when he takes you out to go shopping, visiting cute shops. of course you insist on taking him with you to the fitting rooms, where you dress up in cute short skirts and ask what he thinks about them. “damn babe- he says as he cocks his head and stares at you up and down, rethinking if he should've let you wear that in front of him in the first place. you notice his hard cock as he hides it with his hands. “babe- I think we should..” he says before you change back and purchase the skirt. you guys are back home when mark immediately goes to the couch with his hands on the back of the couch behind him. you follow him there before undressing for him. “is this what you want?...” you tease him as you widen his legs apart, standing between them. he basically drools at the sight in front of him. “... you want me with nothing on? is that it?” you say. he feels like he's in a dream. you plop down on the floor, taking his hard cock in your mouth, licking it lightly just to tease him. “augh!!” he whines “please baby, suck it please. i need you so bad…” he's looking at you with those eyes as you give into his requests, sitting on his lap, and taking him all in.

XIAOJUN is near the end of his shower when your in your short pajama shorts and tank top lying on the bed. the aroma of gentle citrus fills the air as he meets you at the end of the bed, gazing at you as he’s in nothing but his briefs on. as he climbs on top of you, he’s whispering to you how much he wants you, no, how badly he needs you. he says he’s had a rough day and that u can help him. so you do. you lay on your back as he caressed your face before kissing your cheek sayin “thank u.” and that’s when he sticks his dick in your mouth. fucking your sweet mouth as he can’t help but moan out how good it feels. “oh my god… so so good my sweet girl. thank u, thank u”. hearing this you can’t help but start to touch yourself, how could you not. you close your eyes and just let the sweet sounds coming out his mouth fill ur ears, it so addicting, the way he can’t just shut up. and here you are, subtly crying and whimpering as he fucks into your mouth faster and faster, deeper and deeper. you think it can’t get better but it does. “let me do it for u my sweet princess…” is what he says before stuffing his fingers into your cunt, fingers slipping with ease as you and him come closer to your high. “let it out baby…” he says as you cum and he quickly takes his dick out your mouth and paints his cum on your pretty tits. “thank u, felt so good baby thank u”.

HENDERY loves imagining what he’ll do to you throughout the day then see you back at home looking all pretty for him. he’ll text you while he’s out about some shit like “make no plans tonight!” or “can we stay in tonight?” just so he can have the excuse to fuck you til you feel like you can’t walk. and on the days where he doesn’t come up with an excuse, he’s usually really flirty throughout the day, telling you how beautiful you are, how your outfit is cute…how you’re making him feel so stiff. you take him to the nearest empty room wherever you guys are. he immediately kisses you heatedly, pulling down his pants, cock so hard cause he knows you want him too. as you touch his cock, his tip aches, dripping precum and you’re barely doing anything yet. he’s groaning loudly like he wants to be caught, so you give him a slap and it tunes him down, but his cock just gets harder. by the time you guys are done, his mess is basically everywhere. all over you, the floor, himself.

RENJUN cant take it anymore when he sees you in the kitchen after dinner time, in those short shorts and your loose off the shoulder tee. you're bending down when he inhales sharply before getting up from the sofa and grabbing your hips. “yes renjun?” you say confused. “c'mere” he sighs, pinning you against the counter. you already know where this is going, but you want to make him beg for it. he touches your waist, looking you in the eyes, “touch me please…it hurts…”. before you can say anything he whines, hugging your waist as closely as he can to you. you reach around him, tugging at his hair. “mmmh..” he moans lightly. “please…” he says again. he drops down to his knees, pulling at your shorts, kissing your thighs as you feel the hotness of his breath, lips, and everything on you. you tug your panties down and he immediately dives into you, sucking on your wetness as he can't stop moaning from it. and you can feel him pathetically humping at your leg, going faster the more he sucks. you yank his head back away as his lips and chin are all wet, drool spilling from his mouth as he breathes hard. “want mommy to help?” you say as he instantly nods his head getting up to stand. at once you pull down his shorts and boxers, slipping his dick in between your thighs. he bucks his hips back and forth fucking your thighs. he cums all over your legs, giving you something to clean up. renjun also gets horny when he's laying in your lap while watching tv, and his view is well, your boobs and cant help but touch them over your shirt, signaling you to take it off. you do as he pleases because you love when he gets like this. he licks and sucks on your boobs as the pleasure hits you, making him love the way you grab onto him. onto his hair, arms, face, everything you can get your hands on. just know if you ever make him feel good, he’ll always return the favor.

JENO wakes up hungry. his dick hard from the recent dream he had about you. he shakes you to tell you, but you're asleep. he feels bad to fuck you when you are sleeping and dreaming so peacefully. he can't bring himself to do it, so he goes into the bathroom and pumps himself. but, he’s imagining it's you, which makes him moan your name softly. you're half asleep when you hear him calling your name. “f-f-fuck…y/n…” he would whine out. “jeno?” you answered him, you hear noises but not your name again. you get up and when you push the bathroom door open, boy is it a sight to see. he's holding his pajama shirt between his teeth, his abs fully exposed, body glistening a little from his sweat. his head is thrown back as one hand grips the counter, and the other holds his cock, tip red and leaking his pearly cum. he's so hard that he had to jack himself off again. and the way he has his glasses on makes you bite your lip as you sneakily walk in while his eyes are closed. you drop down, taking his tip in your mouth. he moans loudly now, knowing he's not gonna wake you up this time. you let go of his hips, giving him the signal to fuck your mouth, so he does, hands gripping your hair as he lets out few groans, breath heavy and panting as he cums in your mouth. jeno also loves getting right behind you while you're washing the dishes or doing something around the house. he loves grabbing your ass and massaging it while he kisses your neck from behind. you drop whatever you're doing because you know how good he makes you feel when he's sucking your wet cunt. lapping at it until you're overstimulated because he just can't get enough. and he forgets about how you must feel because he’s pretty much addicted to your pussy, eating away as his hand plays with your clit. at this point you feel like you can’t even stand anymore, whining at him “please- can't…” but he wants to see you undo just one more time.

HAECHAN is a bratty disobedient sub who LOVES to be punished. whatever rules you have for him, he breaks them and watches with a sly grin as you get annoyed because he knows he's in for a punishment that night. he wants you to absolutely break him and make him cry. dumb him down until he can't think or speak properly anymore, only choked out pleas and moans coming from him. he loves it when you spank him. have him count the spanks and of course he would purposefully mess up right at the end to rile you up so that he could start all over again. he could easily get hard from a couple spanks to his ass and he'll shamelessly cum all over your legs and his chest with a mewl. oh and he loves edging! edge him over and over again till he cries and begs you to stop and let him cum but don't since you know he's faking it. keep edging him until you finally let him cum but don't stop there! keep making him cum till he's overstimulated and his mind has turned to mush. “y-y/n! aah~!! im sorry m-“ before he could finish he slurred sentence you pulled his hair back making him face you. you spit in his mouth and make him swallow it. you could tell he was all fucked out as his eyes were fluttering and all he could do was moan your name. He knew he fucked up. he knew you weren’t even CLOSE to being done punishing him. but did he regret it?

nope~

JAEMIN loves treating you like the princess you are, he’ll do whatever you want him to do whenever. you’ll be out at dinner with friends when you grip his thigh to let him know you want him to fuck the shut out of you. and that’s when you end up in a nearby hotel, fucking in the bed, the shower, even the balcony. he pounds you so good, slapping your ass to take his big cock that you so badly wanted. “such a good girl, taking my cock like a pretty princess” he says while you’re a moaning mess. he would take a pic when you guys are finished, showing your leaking cum and his red tip in the frame (prob gonna jack off to it another time). and boy does he get jealous easily. when you guys are at parties and he sees you taking to another guy he’ll text you shit like, “does he fuck u good?” or “keep talking to him and i’ll fuck u extra hard tonight” and that’s exactly what he does. “jae-“ is all you can get out of you while your body is getting overstimulated by him. “you asked for it, so take it like the slut you are” he says while pounding his cock into you, pressing your body harder into the mattress, reaching your g spot over and over again. and when he cums, he paints your face, tits, ass with it and makes you lick it off his dick because you're his, but that just riles him up for another round. each time he gets rougher and harder, but when it’s over he spoils you like a mf. “do you need anything my love?”, “i’m sorry princess,” he says while kissing you everywhere, “you just feel so good cant help it”. the remainder of the night he’s massaging, kissing your body, and whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

YANGYANG and you are hanging out one day playing video games at his place when you guys both decide you're heading to bed. as he’s changing in his room, you walk in unknowingly, seeing him shirtless with his pajama pants. “oh I'm sorry!” you say expecting him to put a shirt on. when you turn back around he’s still shirtless…and staring at you. “yangyang…” you say and you stare at his bare torso, looking at the way his v-line is going so, so, low. you then realize that he’s pulling his pants down. “will you help me sweetheart?” he asks as his thick cock is now in your sight. he tilts his head to the side as you step closer, you bite your lip as you look at his hard, then at him. “go on, suck.” he orders. there’s no way you can’t listen to him right now. the way that he’s smiling and biting his lip, and how he’s combing your hair back already, and how he’s moaning as you take him into your mouth. “f-fuck baby!!” he gasps, not expecting you to take him all down like that. he also likes waking you up, getting in between your legs while you slowly wake up to him eating you out. “yangyang!” you moan as he pushes two fingers into you. “gonna take my fingers then my cock right princess?” he says. you nod your head, pulling at his hair as he pushes three fingers in now. your moans spill out as you cum onto his fingers. “good job sweetheart...” he praises you. “can you take my cock now?” he asks as he taps it on your stomach, biting his lip before asking, “you think it’ll fit?” your face gets hot at this. you look down to see how big he really is. “yes, please fuck me…” you beg. and so he does, ramming into your tight cunt, holding down your wrists beside you to stop you from moving so much. you feel the way he’s twitching in you and he sees the way your back is arching. “cum my sweetheart, let me fill you up.” he says as he lets out a final long moan, each other's cum spilling out of you.

CHENLE is always desperate as ever to please you…and to see how easily he can fall into your touch. always saying pathetic words to you like “please…want u to touch me”, and he says it so softly, stroking your fingers. you nod your head as he smoothly lifts his shirt up, revealing his bare chest to you. he loves being like this, under your touch knowing you like seeing him all helpless and soft. you kiss him teasingly, biting his bottom lip a bit, fingers trailing from his upper torso to his hardened cock. “mm~ want you to play with me so bad…” is all he says before you slide down his pants, fisting his cock, putting the tip in your mouth. he doesn’t last long until he cums on your lips, bringing you back onto his, tasting his own cum. chenle also gets riled up at night. he's trying to go to sleep, but he keeps inching closer to your body. he rubs his hard dick against you, head snuggled in the blanket a bit almost embarrassed. in response you turn over, seeing his face. so beautiful and all tense. eyes shut as his mouth hangs a little open, breathing harder than normally, even hearing little whines. “what do you need my lele?” you ask him. He doesn’t say anything, just brings your hips onto his lap, moving you so you're grinding against his cock. he moans loudly. you pull down his pajama pants and pull your panties to the side, sinking on his cock slowly. you fuck your self onto him, giving it to him good since he’s been good all day. and at this point he’s moaning so much. “such a good boy right my lele?” “doing so good for me hm? gonna fuck you again and again since you want it so bad” is what you say to him as he loudly whines, even tears run down his pretty little face, preparing himself for that overstimulation he’ll feel all night long.

JISUNG is content however you would like to have sex. you want it kinky? he’ll do whatever you ask for. you just want it vanilla? fine with him :)! however you want it he’s fine with it! you guys were currently making out on the couch when you felt his hand squeeze your neck slightly, giving you a signal he needs you. a minute later you're on all fours. lapping at his dick, tracing his veins, kissing the tip, literally anything to make him feel good. “fuck this.” he says as he turns your body around to pound into you. “fuck jisung!!” you let out. “m sorry…” he says as he slowly pumps into you, almost to tease you. “…i can't help it when your so tight for me, just for me.” then he’s really pounding into you. roughly like he’ll never get the chance to fuck you stupid like this again. hes fucking into your cunt faster and faster, he slaps your ass as he throws his head back, letting out a long groan. “all mine.” he says as he lifts your upper body so it’s against his chest. he holds you by your throat as he fucks into you deeper. as one hand is around your throat, the others flicking at your clit, rubbing it quickly. as your body becomes more tired and fucked out, your eyes begin closing, tears rolling down your cheeks as he lets you down, slapping your ass again before giving one last deep pound into you. “m gonna cum, okay?” he doesn’t even bother to wait for a response. he cums into you before watching as both your cum drips down your folds. “mine”.

[ankababy]

A Home (part 6)

Part 1 Part 5 Part 7

Chishiya x reader x Niragi

Y/N, the lovebug, the sweetheart ever—oh, and those two ig…

“…And over there,” you pointed to a faded storefront with a half-shattered window. “was where I used to go shopping with my friends. God, we spent so much money on the dumbest things. It was never even about what we bought, really. It was about the excuse to just… be out. Y��know? Just walking around, talking, looking at boys, giggling.”

You laughed to yourself. “There was this one time, right outside that door—” you gestured vaguely at the entrance. “my friend almost got hit by a car because she was too busy ranting about how much she hated a boy. She just stepped into the street like a complete idiot. We had to grab her by the back of her hoodie and yank her back before she got flattened.”

Niragi, walking to your right, let out a sharp breath through his nose. “Dumbass.”

“Right?” you beamed at him. “She was so mad at us after, too, like we had embarrassed her, but it was fun. We had fun. I miss them.”

You didn’t say it with sadness. Just a simple truth. You missed them, but you weren’t dwelling on it. There was no point in that.

On your left, Chishiya still wasn’t looking at you, but you knew he was listening. He always listened.

Niragi, though, was half-distracted, glancing into broken windows and abandoned stores, searching. “We better find a damn gun shop soon.” he muttered. “Or at least some assholes carrying the right bullets.”

“Mm.” you hummed thoughtfully. “What do you even do with that many bullets?”

Niragi shot you a look. “What the fuck do you think? Shoot people.”

You gave him an unimpressed glance. “Obviously, but like, how do you not run out all the time? You shoot at everything.”

“Yeah.” he said. “So I need more.”

Chishiya finally spoke. “You’re acting like he has any self-restraint.”

“Hey, fuck you.” Niragi shot back.

You smiled to yourself. Even their bickering had settled into something more natural, something less venomous.

You adjusted the bag on your shoulder, glancing around at the empty streets. It was eerie, walking through what once was a lively city, now nothing but quiet. But you kept talking. Filling the silence, filling the space between you and the two broken boys at your sides.

And they let you.

You stepped up onto a broken concrete barrier, testing its stability before deciding it was safe enough to balance on. The edge was uneven, cracked, and worn down by time and nature, but you didn’t care. It gave you something to do while you talked—something other than just walking.

Niragi barely spared you a glance, too busy peering into the ruins of an old electronics store, while Chishiya didn’t even react.

Still, you kept going, balancing carefully as you continued to ramble. “This place was so much better before everything went to shit.” you said, arms stretched out slightly for balance. “There was always something to do. Always somewhere to be. I could be out all day and still feel like I hadn’t done enough.”

You took another careful step forward, teetering for just a second before catching yourself. “Now it’s just… empty. I mean, I get it, obviously. Death games and all that. But it’s weird, right? The silence?”

No answer.

Of course, no answer.

You glanced down at them, unimpressed. “You two are so fun to talk to.”

Chishiya didn’t even bother looking up. “You talk enough for all three of us.”

“Wow.” you said, dryly. “That almost hurt my feelings.”

Niragi snorted. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

You gasped dramatically, pressing a hand over your chest. “I am a delight, actually.”

Niragi just rolled his eyes, looking back toward the stores. “Sure.”

You let out an exaggerated sigh, taking another step forward—but the concrete under your foot crumbled slightly, throwing you off balance.

Without thinking, you grabbed onto the closest thing to you.

Which just so happened to be Chishiya’s head.

He let out a soft hnn of irritation, but he didn’t move away. Didn’t push you off. He just let you use him for balance, barely sparing you a glance.

“…Alright.” Niragi smirked, watching. “That was fucking funny.”

You finally steadied yourself, fingers still in Chishiya’s hair for a second longer than necessary before you pulled away. “That almost felt like you helping me, Chishiya.”

“I did nothing.” he muttered, brushing his hair back into place.

“Exactly.” You grinned. “And that’s exactly what I needed. You’re so stable.”

He shot you a look, unimpressed. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Yes.” you said, completely serious. “I’m going to start using you for support more often.”

“Don’t.”

“No promises.”

Niragi snorted, kicking at a stray piece of rubble on the ground. “I swear, the shit you get away with…”

“What can I say?” You hopped off the barrier, landing lightly on the ground next to him. “I have a certain charm.”

Niragi just rolled his eyes again, but you caught the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips.

Chishiya, as expected, said nothing. But he didn’t complain when you kept walking next to him, a little too close, just to bother him.

“How many days do you guys have left?”

Chishiya didn’t even hesitate. “Four.”

Niragi, on the other hand, just blinked at you, clearly not having an answer.

“…Niragi?”

He shrugged, kicking a piece of debris out of his way. “Dunno. Doesn’t matter.”

You frowned. “What do you mean, doesn’t matter?”

“I’ll go play today.” he said, completely unbothered. “I’ll be fine.”

Wow. Okay.

You stared at him for a second longer, something unsettled twisting in your stomach.

Maybe it wasn’t a big deal—to him, at least. But it was to you.

Still, you didn’t say anything. Not yet. You just sighed, stuffing your hands into your pockets as you kept moving.

“Alright.” you said eventually “Just don’t die, okay?”

Niragi shot you a look. “What, you’d miss me?”

“Yes.” you said immediately, no hesitation. “Obviously.”

That caught him off guard for a split second. Just a second. Then he scoffed, rolling his eyes as if he didn’t believe you.

You let it go. For now.

Instead, you found other things to focus on—like the fact that there were plenty of climbable structures around you.

“Hold on.” you said, pausing near a rusted-out car. “I wanna try something.”

Neither of them reacted, which meant neither of them told you not to do it. Which, in your mind, meant you had full permission.

So, naturally, you stepped onto the hood, testing its stability.

Nothing happened.

Good enough.

You took another step, then another, making your way up until you were balanced on the roof of the car.

Niragi didn’t even look at you. He was busy rummaging through the ruins of an old sporting goods store, checking shelves for anything useful. Probably bullets.

Chishiya, unsurprisingly, didn’t care either.

Still, you kept going, stepping up onto the ledge of the store’s broken window frame.

And then, for the fuck of it, you jumped—landing lightly on the edge of an old streetlight pole that had fallen at an angle, one foot in front of the other as you balanced your way down.

Still, no reaction.

You huffed, shaking your head as you hopped back down onto solid ground. “Tough crowd.”

Chishiya gave you a glance, completely disinterested. “You say that like it’s new information.”

“I keep hoping it’ll change.”

“Your mistake.”

You groaned dramatically, dragging a hand down your face before turning to Niragi, who was still focused on his little bullet hunt.

“And you.” you said, hands on your hips. “Nothing? Not even a little bit impressed?”

He snorted. “I’ve seen better.”

You gasped. “Excuse me?”

He just smirked, shaking a box of bullets in your direction before shoving it into his pocket.

You narrowed your eyes, but didn’t say anything else. Instead, you just kept moving, hopping over debris, balancing on curbs, talking way too much.

And the whole time, they stayed beside you. Not because they were entertained—not because they cared about what you were saying—but just because.

And that was enough.

You walked ahead of them, hopping onto the curb and balancing your way across it like you were walking a tightrope, talking and talking, the way you always did.

They let you.

They always let you.

But they didn’t really listen.

Not really.

Chishiya walked with his hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets, eyes half-lidded, letting the noise of your voice filter in and out without attaching much importance to any of it. He was perceptive, sharp as ever—he always knew where you were, what you were doing, if you were about to do something reckless—but that wasn’t the same as caring.

And Niragi? He walked beside you like you weren’t even there, flicking through boxes of bullets, stuffing them into his pockets, only responding when you directly addressed him.

And even then, he was a dick about it.

But why wouldn’t he be?

Neither of them had a reason to be nice to you.

The three of you were together out of convenience. That was all.

They weren’t your friends.

They weren’t fond of you.

They weren’t bonding with you.

They were using you.

Maybe not in some grand, intentional way—but you were useful.

You cooked for them. Cleaned up after them. Brought them things. Did the kind of things a normal, kind person would do.

And they took it.

They let you give and give and give, and they didn’t think twice about taking from you.

Because why would they?

Chishiya wasn’t sentimental. He wasn’t the type to form emotional attachments, didn’t care about things like warmth and kindness. He watched the way you doted on them, and he let you, but he didn’t feel anything about it.

And Niragi? Niragi was a sadist. If he liked you, it was for the wrong reasons.

He liked watching you react to him. Liked how easily he could get a rise out of you. Liked how you let him push and push and push without ever pushing back.

And maybe, in some deep, twisted, rotted part of him, he liked the attention. The way you always seemed to orbit him, always checking in, always caring.

Not that it mattered.

Because at the end of the day, if you were gone, if you disappeared, if you never came back—they’d survive.

They’d move on.

And that was something you hadn’t realized yet.

Or maybe you had. Maybe, on some level, you knew what this was.

Maybe you were just ignoring it. Maybe you thought if you were good enough—sweet enough—they’d learn to care.

Maybe you thought you could fix them.

But you couldn’t.

Because Chishiya was a sociopath.

And Niragi was a psychopath.

And you?

You were just a stupid, sweet thing with a bleeding heart.

And Niragi knew the way your hands always found their way to him—little touches, little grazes, a hand on his arm, on his shoulder, in his hair.

You touched him like he was something soft. Something fragile. Something human.

Like you actually cared.

And that was the problem.

Because he liked it.

More than he wanted to admit.

It wasn’t just that it felt good—though, fuck, it did. It was the way you did it. The way you offered it, like you wanted to touch him. Like it was just natural for you to do it.

Niragi didn’t get that kind of touch.

Not before the Borderlands. Not ever.

People didn’t touch him. Not like that.

They hit him. Dragged him. Held him down.

But this? This was something else.

And the longer he had it, the deeper he got into it.

Like a drug. Like a sickness.

Like something he didn’t want to need, but did.

And it pissed him off.

Because you were too fucking good at it. Too sweet. Too easy. You weren’t even trying to pull him in. You were just doing it. Just being you.

And he knew, deep down, that was what made it worse.

Because it wasn’t fake. He was used to fake. Could deal with fake. Could sniff it out and spit it back in their faces.

But you meant it.

And it was fucking him up.

Because no one ever had.

And then there was Chishiya. Chishiya, who saw it all.

And he knew.

Knew that Niragi was getting hooked.

That Niragi was drowning in something too deep, something he couldn’t control, couldn’t claw his way out of.

And Chishiya? He found it interesting.

Because you weren’t doing anything on purpose.

You weren’t trying to manipulate, to twist, to trap.

You just loved.

Freely. Easily. Without thinking.

Like an idiot.

Like someone who had never been hurt the way they had.

And that was the most fascinating part.

Because why the fuck would you love Niragi?

Why the fuck would you love either of them?

What the fuck was wrong with you?

It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t logical.

And Chishiya hated things that didn’t make sense.

But he couldn’t stop watching. Couldn’t stop wondering. Couldn’t stop waiting to see what you’d do next.

How far your bleeding heart would go.

How deep you’d let yourself fall.

~

You sat curled up on the couch, staring at the door.

It was late.

Too late.

You were tired, your limbs heavy, eyes burning, but you waited.

Because Niragi hadn’t come back yet.

And you weren’t going to bed until he did.

The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city outside—empty streets, broken streetlights, a dead world that never really slept.

Neither did you.

Not when he was still out there.

And then—finally—the door swung open.

Your body jolted with relief before your mind could even catch up.

“Niragi.” you breathed, pushing up from the couch.

He was fine.

He looked fine, at least. A little scuffed up, maybe, but no blood, no injuries that you could see.

Still, you moved to him fast, your hands already reaching, already checking, already touching.

And fuck, he loved it.

Not that he’d ever fucking say it.

But he ate it up.

The way your hands skimmed over his arms, over his chest, down his sides, pressing gently, making sure nothing was wrong, nothing was broken.

Your fingers traced over his wrist, his knuckles—checking for cuts, for bruises.

Your hands were so soft.

So careful.

Like you actually gave a shit.

And Niragi just stood there, letting you do it.

Letting himself have this.

He didn’t stop you. Didn’t shove you away. Didn’t sneer at you or say some cruel thing to make you flinch.

Because he didn’t want you to flinch.

Didn’t want you to stop.

He wanted to stay in this moment, feeling your hands on him, feeling you worry for him, care for him.

It was fucking disgusting.

He should hate this. Should push you off, tell you to fuck off, to quit acting like you mattered.

But he couldn’t. He just stood there, soaking it in, letting you be sweet to him.

Letting you be you.

And knowing, deep down, that he’d never let anyone else touch him like this.

Though Niragi stiffened under your touch the second his eyes flicked up—and there Chishiya was. Standing at the entrance of the living room, leaned against the doorway, watching.

“The fuck are you looking at?” Niragi snapped, voice sharp, defensive.

Like a cornered animal baring its teeth.

But you barely even reacted. Didn’t even flinch. Just turned your head, eyes widening slightly, just noticing Chishiya standing there.

“Oh, hi.” you said simply. So soft. So sweet. Like always.

Then you turned right back to Niragi, resuming your gentle little check-up like Chishiya wasn’t even there.

And that—that made him take a real look at you.

At the way you touched Niragi like he was something fragile. At the way you worried for him, cared for him, without expecting anything back. At the way you gave him everything—your patience, your attention, your affection—so freely.

Chishiya didn’t like people.

Didn’t care for them.

Didn’t want them.

But he liked you.

Not in a deep way, not in some grand, meaningful sense.

Just in the simplest way.

He didn’t hate you.

Didn’t find you annoying.

Didn’t want to twist you apart just to see how you worked.

He just… liked you.

But what he found interesting—what he found worth noticing—was that this thing you had with Niragi…it had changed.

At first, you were just too good to Niragi.

Soft where he was sharp, warm where he was cold, patient where he was volatile.

But now?

Now, you were too good for Niragi.

Chishiya saw it clear as day.

You were light. Niragi was rot. You were soft. Niragi was jagged edges and broken glass.

And yet—you still loved him.

Still touched him like he deserved it. Still waited for him to come home. Still gave and gave and gave, without ever asking for anything in return.

Chishiya wondered how long that would last.

Because Niragi would take.

Oh, he’d take everything from you.

Until there was nothing left.

At first, Chishiya assumed you were just like every other fool in this world—naïve, weak, desperate for companionship in a place that had long since burned away any need for softness.

But you weren’t weak. You weren’t desperate. You chose to be this way. Chose to care, chose to wait, chose to be the kind of person who would sit here, hours past a reasonable time, waiting for someone like Niragi.

And the worst part?

You were too good for him, too.

Chishiya wasn’t like Niragi. He wasn’t violent, wasn’t cruel just to be cruel, didn’t thrive off of making people squirm.

But he wasn’t kind either.

He wasn’t warm.

Didn’t care about anyone but himself.

That was the truth. That was the foundation of his survival.

So why was he still here? Why did he still let you talk to him, let you touch him, let you pull him in with that unbearable gentleness?

He had no reason to.

He didn’t need you.

And yet—here he was. Standing in the doorway. Watching you with Niragi. And it wasn’t Niragi he was paying attention to.

It was you.

Because you had changed something in him, too.

Not in a dramatic way, not in the way you probably hoped you changed Niragi, but something small, something subtle.

He wanted to stay.

And Chishiya didn’t stay for anyone.

But for some reason, he stayed for you. Just like he did when you sat in the tub.

Maybe it was curiosity.

Maybe it was the way you never seemed afraid of him.

Maybe it was the way you made him feel like he didn’t have to be anything other than what he was—cold, distant, detached—and you’d still talk to him the same way, still look at him like he was worth talking to.

It wasn’t love.

It wasn’t even real care.

But it was something.

Something he wasn’t used to.

Something he found himself unwilling to let go of.

So he stayed.

Even though he knew he shouldn’t.

Even though he knew you were too good for him.

He stayed anyway.

You exhaled slowly, still looking Niragi over, though he was clearly fine. He was covered in sweat, the scent of gunpowder still faint on his clothes, but he wasn’t hurt. No limp, no blood, no signs of any real struggle—he had made it through whatever game he played just fine. That didn’t stop you from fussing over him, brushing over his shoulders, his arms, his chest, making sure there weren’t any hidden wounds.

“You should shower.” you told him softly. “Then go to bed.”

Niragi scoffed, rolling his eyes, but he didn’t argue. Not really. “I don’t fucking need you to tell me that.”

“I know.” you hummed, your voice still gentle. “Do you want me to make you something before you sleep?”

He stretched his arms behind his head, acting like he was thinking about it, but then shrugged. “Nah. I’m not hungry.”

You nodded, letting him go without a fight, watching as he stalked off toward his room. You heard the door close.

Finally, silence settled over the apartment again.

You sighed and sank onto the couch. It was only then that you noticed Chishiya was still there.

And not just standing.

He sat down next to you.

You blinked, a little surprised. He usually wasn’t the type to linger when he didn’t need to.

“Didn’t think you’d stick around.” you admitted, turning to him with a small, tired smile.

“You seem exhausted.” he commented, tilting his head slightly.

You let out a soft laugh, leaning back. “I am exhausted.”

“You don’t have to wait up for him, you know.” Chishiya said simply. “He’s not a child. If he dies, he dies.”

You gave him a look. “You don’t actually care if Niragi lives or dies?” you teased, nudging his arm lightly.

Chishiya hummed, nonchalant. “I care about you.”

Your breath caught for a second.

It was a small thing. A tiny admittance.

But from Chishiya? That was practically a confession.

Still, he didn’t let you dwell on it for too long.

“I just think it’s a waste of your energy.” he continued, shifting his attention toward the ceiling, like this conversation was barely worth his focus. “You’re always giving.”

“I like giving.” you murmured.

“I know.” he said, glancing at you again.

Like he wanted to understand.

Like he couldn’t.

“Why?” he finally asked.

You frowned slightly. “Why what?”

“Why do you love so much?”

Your lips parted, taken aback by the wording.

Love?

You didn’t really think of it like that.

But Chishiya saw things most people didn’t.

And maybe he wasn’t wrong. Maybe it was love. Even if it was reckless. Even if it was stupid.

You sighed, stretching your legs out. “Because I know what it’s like to not get any in return.”

Chishiya was quiet. Not his usual, detached quiet. It was something heavier. Something thoughtful. Like, just for a second, he was looking at you and seeing something he recognized.

But instead of saying anything about it, he only hummed.

And the two of you sat there, in the dim light of the apartment, neither one of you moving.

It was comfortable.

It was simple.

It was good.

“You’re running yourself ragged.”

You tilted your head toward him, blinking slowly. “Hm?”

“You wait up for Niragi. You cook for us. You take care of everything without asking for anything back.” He glanced at you, unreadable as ever. “Why?”

You sighed, rubbing at your eyes. “Didn’t we just have this conversation?”

“You told me why you love.” he said. “Not why you let yourself burn out over it.”

You exhaled through your nose, letting your hands drop to your lap. “I dunno. It’s just who I am, I guess.”

“That’s not an answer.”

You let out a tired laugh. “It’s the only one I’ve got right now.”

Chishiya didn’t say anything to that. He just looked at you. Like he could pick apart your brain if he wanted to, lay you bare—and you’d let him do that without him picking your brain apart, wink wink nudge nudge—and analyze all the little pieces. And maybe he could.

But instead, he only let out a quiet hum, leaning back into the couch, as if he had decided to leave it at that.

You yawned, stretching your arms above your head, exhausted. You had been running yourself into the ground, and now that Niragi was home safe and you were sitting down for more than five minutes, it was all starting to catch up with you.

Chishiya noticed.

Of course he noticed.

“You should sleep.”

You hummed in agreement, but you didn’t move. You were comfortable like this, the couch just soft enough, the apartment just warm enough.

And maybe… maybe you didn’t want to be alone just yet.

You curled up slightly, resting your head against the back of the couch, letting your eyes slip shut. “Just a minute.”

Chishiya didn’t respond.

But he watched.

You were falling asleep.

Next to him.

You were comfortable next to him.

And that meant something.

Trust.

Something so small, so simple—so natural to you.

But to Chishiya? To Chishiya, trust wasn’t something that came easily. It wasn’t something that should be handed out without second thought.

And yet, you had given it to him so freely.

He stared at you, at the way your lashes fluttered slightly, at the way your breathing slowed, at the way your body settled like you belonged there.

Like he was safe.

And maybe he was.

Maybe, for once in his life, he actually was.

Even though Chishiya had never cared much for safety. Not in the way normal people did, at least. Self-preservation was a basic instinct, sure, but that wasn’t the same as wanting to live. Wanting to be safe. Wanting to keep going because life itself had meaning.

He didn’t see the world like that.

He played these games with the ease of someone who had nothing to lose. There was no desperation in him, no deepseated will to fight for his survival. He observed, he analyzed, he calculated. If he lived, he lived. If he died, he died. The only thing that interested him in this world was the people in it. Their psychology, their choices, the way they cracked under pressure or thrived in chaos. He didn’t want to find someone that fascinated him, but if he did, then maybe this whole thing would be worth watching for a little while longer.

You were interesting.

Not in the way most people were. Not in the way Aguni was, not in the way Mira was, not even in the way Niragi was, violent and cruel and unpredictable.

You were interesting because you weren’t like them.

You were the opposite.

Soft where the world had hardened. Gentle where life had been cruel. Giving where most had nothing left to offer.

It didn’t make sense.

You were too good for this place. Too good for Niragi, too good for him, too good for the entire twisted system of the Borderlands. And yet, here you were, offering yourself up like it wouldn’t get you killed.

Like it wouldn’t get you used.

Because that’s what he and Niragi were doing, wasn’t it?

Using you.

Chishiya was well aware of it. Niragi might not have been as conscious about it, but he was. You were valuable. You cooked, you cleaned, you took care of them. You were something warm and bright in the middle of a world that was nothing but death and brutality. You offered safety and comfort like it was nothing, like you didn’t even consider the weight of it, like you didn’t even care if people deserved it or not.

But Chishiya? Chishiya knew better than to believe in things like unconditional love.

He knew better than to believe in things like you.

And yet, here he was. Sitting next to you, watching the way you slept so easily beside him.

Because you trusted him.

Because you were comfortable with him.

That meant something, didn’t it?

It should have meant nothing to him. He should have written it off as just another one of your foolish little choices, another thing that made you weak. Trusting people was a liability in a place like this.

But there was a part of him, deep in the pit of his hollowed-out chest, that didn’t want to break it.

Didn’t want to lose it.

Which was ridiculous.

He didn’t like himself.

Didn’t want to like himself.

He was empty. Utterly empty. He had nothing to live for, nothing to die for. He played these games not because he wanted to survive, but because he wanted to watch, to see, to understand the twisted depths of humanity. And yet, somehow, he had ended up here.

With you.

You, with your too-soft voice and your too-gentle hands. You, who made Niragi lean into your touch instead of flinch away from it. You, who smiled so easily, like this world hadn’t already taken everything from you.

He didn’t understand you.

But he wanted to.

He hadn’t wanted anything in a long time.

And that was a problem. Because if he wanted something, that meant it could be taken away.

And if there was one thing Chishiya had learned in this world, it was that nothing lasted forever.

~

Waking up on the couch was an experience.

Not one you were used to, but not necessarily a bad one, either.

The cushion beneath you was slightly stiff, the air in the apartment cool against your skin. You blinked, eyes adjusting to the soft morning light that bled in through the windows, and slowly sat up.

You were alone.

At least, in this room.

That was okay.

You ran a hand through your hair, sighing softly as the memories of last night settled in your brain. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep out here, but you had. Right next to Chishiya, too.

That was… unexpected.

You didn’t remember him moving, didn’t remember him telling you to get up, didn’t remember anything past the slow lull of your conversation.

Had he stayed? Had he left the moment he realized you had drifted off? You weren’t sure. Either way, you were alone now, so you pushed yourself up from the couch and made your way toward the kitchen. Your body felt slow, still heavy with sleep, but you ignored it. You pulled out a chair at the counter and sat down, elbows resting on the surface, mind already wandering.

Thinking.

Thinking a lot.

You had that problem sometimes.

Your thoughts never really stopped.

Even in the quiet of the morninng, they rattled around in your skull, picking apart the things you said, the things you did, the things they did.

Chishiya.

Niragi.

They were so different, yet somehow they were the same. They weren’t gentle, they weren’t kind, and yet… you stayed.

Why did you stay?

You had options.

Not many, but they existed.

You could have taken a room somewhere else in the Beach, you heard about that place. You could have joined another group. You could have attached yourself to someone softer, someone easier, someone who would give you something back instead of taking and taking and taking.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you were here.

With them.

Maybe it was because you saw something in them. Something fragile beneath all that cruelty.

You weren’t stupid. You knew that Niragi was a psychopath. You knew Chishiya was a sociopath. They weren’t good people. But maybe that was exactly why you wanted to be here.

Because someone had to love them.

Someone had to look at them and say, You deserve kindness.

Maybe it wasn’t true.

Maybe they didn’t deserve it.

But that didn’t change the fact that you wanted to give it.

Because you had spent your whole life giving.

And you never really got much back.

You sighed, rubbing at your face, trying to shake the weight of your thoughts. It was too early for this. Too early to sit here and psychoanalyze yourself. Too early to pick apart why you were so drawn to people who were incapable of loving you back.

You needed to move. Needed to do something.

So, you stood up. And you started making tea. The soft clink of the kettle settling onto the stove filled the quiet apartment.

But even that peace didn’t last long.

You heard the heavy drag of footsteps down the hall, sluggish. Then a loud, exaggerated yawn.

“Fucking hell.” Niragi grumbled as he entered the kitchen, rubbing a hand through his mess of hair, which wasn’t tied back now. “You’re loud.”

You hummed, unbothered. “Didn’t know making tea was a crime.”

He scoffed, walking past you to the fridge, digging around with barely opened eyes. “If it wakes me up, it is.”

You poured water into the kettle, setting it to boil, glancing at him. He looked like shit. Not in a particularly bad way—just in a Niragi in the morning way. His shirt was lopsided, one shoulder exposed, and his pants hung loose at his hips like he had barely bothered putting them on right.

“Want some?” you asked, tilting your head toward the tea.

He side-eyed you, face still slack with sleep. “Tea?”

“Mhm.”

“No.”

Didn’t expect any other answer. You nodded, turning back to the stove.

He pulled out a carton of something from the fridge, staring at it like it personally offended him. Then, he sighed. “What’s for breakfast?”

“You tell me.” you said simply, already knowing where this was going.

He shot you a glare. “You’re making it.”

“I’m making tea.”

He clicked his tongue. “You always make breakfast.”

“Then it’s your turn.” You turned to him, arching a brow. “Unless you can’t cook?”

He rolled his eyes so hard you thought he might see the back of his skull. “I can fucking cook.”

“Then there’s your answer.” You gestured to the kitchen. “Go wild.”

For a moment, he just stared at you. Like he was considering making a scene, picking a fight, shoving the responsibility back onto you. But then something in his brain seemed to shift.

Because if he did argue, that would make it seem like he couldn’t cook. That he needed you to do it. And his pride was too big for that.

So, without another word, he turned, grabbed a pan, and started making breakfast himself.

You smiled to yourself.

As much as Niragi loved to be a menace, there were ways to handle him. Push him in the right places, challenge him the right way, and he’d do whatever you wanted just to prove you wrong.

You went back to your tea, listening to the faint sounds of him moving around the kitchen. The clatter of a pan on the stove, the rustle of a bag, the soft sizzle of oil heating up. He wasn’t slamming things around, wasn’t throwing a fit about it.

Because Niragi could cook.

And he’d be damned if he let you think otherwise.

You leaned against the counter, watching him move around the kitchen. He didn’t look like he particularly enjoyed cooking, but he knew what he was doing. The oil sizzled as he cracked an egg into the pan, not a single wasted motion, no hesitation.

“So,” you started, voice light.“what’re you making?”

“Food.”

You smiled. “No way. I thought you were making explosives.”

He huffed a quiet laugh through his nose, but he didn’t look at you, too focused on flipping the egg.

You tilted your head. “I mean, you do know how to make those, right?”

Niragi grinned. “What, you want me to teach you?”

“Maybe.” You shrugged. “Could be fun.”

He turned to look at you then, eyebrow raised, like he was checking to see if you were joking. You weren’t. He snorted. “You’d fucking blow your hands off.”

“Wow. No faith in me at all?”

“Not when it comes to handling shit that explodes.” He went back to his cooking. “You can barely handle me.”

“Oh, but I do handle you.”

His hand hesitated over the pan for just a second before he picked up the spatula again. His grin didn’t falter, but you saw the way his shoulders stiffened ever so slightly.

Interesting.

“You’re getting bold.” he muttered.

You just smiled, pouring the hot water into your cup, letting the tea steep. “Maybe I’m finally rubbing off on you.”

Niragi scoffed, scraping at the pan a little harder than necessary. “Keep dreaming.”

But the thing was, you kind of were.

The fact that he wasn’t throwing a fit about cooking. The fact that he was talking to you this easily. The fact that—despite his bad attitude—he was still here, still listening, still responding.

He wasn’t used to someone like you. Someone who didn’t cower or get annoyed, who didn’t push him away or try to control him. Someone who just let him be—let him be an asshole, let him be himself, and still treated him like he was worth something.

You watched him for a moment, the way he moved, the way he functioned.

“How’d you learn to cook?” you asked.

He didn’t answer right away. Then, “What, you think I was born knowing how to do this shit?”

“No.” you said patiently. “That’s why I’m asking.”

He made a low noise, like he was debating whether to answer at all. But then, after another moment, he muttered, “Had to.”

That was it. No elaboration, no explanation. Just had to.

Your fingers curled around your cup, warmth pressing into your palms.

People like Niragi—people who grew up like him—didn’t learn things like cooking because they wanted to. They learned because no one else would do it for them. Because there was no one else to care.

You just nodded, taking a slow sip of your tea. “Well, you’re good at it.”

He side-eyed you, as if suspicious of the compliment. “No shit.”

You just laughed. You took another slow sip of your tea, watching Niragi as he flipped the eggs onto a plate. Even in the smallest, most mundane actions, he was rough. Like he didn’t know how to be gentle, like he didn’t care if the eggs broke or if the pan got scratched. It was all just muscle memory, getting things done in the most efficient, thoughtless way possible.

But then again, why would he care?

You tilted your head slightly, chin resting in your palm as you looked up at him. And you really did have to look up at him. You were shorter, and with the way he stood—like he was always trying to take up as much space as possible, standing tall, broad, arms loose but ready—it made the height difference feel even bigger.

“Yesterday was a two, I’m playing again today.” he said, like that explained everything.

It didn’t.

“And?”

“And that’s not worth shit.” he scoffed, finally glancing at you. His expression was almost annoyed, like you were asking something painfully obvious. “I need something bigger.”

You frowned slightly, stirring your tea.

You didn’t understand. Not really. His visa wasn’t in danger yet, so why? Why throw himself into a game the very next day? What was the rush?

Before you could ask, a familiar voice came from the doorway.

“I’ll come.”

Both you and Niragi turned.

And there, standing just at the entrance of the hall, was Chishiya.

Again.

Niragi’s face immediately twisted into something incredulous. “Why the fuck are you always in doorways?”

Chishiya blinked at him, unimpressed as always. “They’re good vantage points.”

“For what?”

“Everything.”

Niragi stared at him for a long moment, like he was trying to decide if he was being fucked with. Then he just scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You’re such a little freak.”

Chishiya didn’t react.

You smiled a little, sipping your tea. “You’re going together?”

“I guess.” Niragi muttered, dragging a hand through his hair.

Chishiya hummed, stepping fully into the kitchen, leaning slightly against the counter. “Might be interesting.”

You knew what that meant.

Chishiya didn’t need to go. He wasn’t playing because of necessity, because of his visa. He was playing because he wanted to. Because he was looking for something to entertain him, something to stimulate that cold brain of his.

Just like Niragi.

You watched them both carefully, but neither of them looked at you. They weren’t friends, they weren’t allies. But they worked together when it suited them.

And somehow, despite their differences, it did suit them.

You set your cup down gently. “Be careful.”

Niragi smirked at you, grabbing a fork and stabbing into his food. “You worry too much.”

Chishiya didn’t say anything. But his gaze flickered to you, just for a second. If he really was going to a game today, he’d need to eat something. You already knew Niragi wouldn’t give a shit about that, so—

“Do you want something?” you asked, voice light, warm, just as naturally sweet as ever.

Chishiya glanced at you, then at Niragi, who was stabbing at his eggs with zero grace, chewing aggressively.

“I’m not making his fucking food.” Niragi stated, loud and clear, as if the mere thought of it was offensive.

You almost smiled, unsurprised. “Didn’t ask you to.”

“You would, though.” Niragi muttered through a mouthful of food, jabbing his fork toward you.

“I’ll take tea.” Chishiya said simply.

Niragi turned his head, brows raising. “That’s it?”

Chishiya just blinked at him. “I don’t need anything heavy before a game.”

You hummed, already moving to make it. “You say that, but you could still eat something small.”

“I could.” Chishiya said, not committing.

You looked over your shoulder at him. “Do you want to?”

Chishiya just tilted his head slightly, considering.

And Niragi? Niragi scoffed, pushing his plate away slightly. “If you make him food, I’m not eating next to him.”

That made you sigh. “Why are you like this?”

“Because I don’t fucking like him.” Niragi shot back.

Chishiya, of course, was entirely unaffected.

You, however, just smiled, grabbing another cup to pour the tea. “You two live together, you know.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to eat with him.” Niragi muttered, crossing his arms.

You didn’t argue further, setting Chishiya’s tea down in front of him, and looking at him expectantly. “So? Small bite of something, yes or no?”

Chishiya exhaled lightly, as if the entire conversation had exhausted him. Then, after a pause— “Fine.”

You beamed.

Niragi groaned. “Oh, for fuck’s sake—”

“You’ll live.” you told him sweetly.

Niragi grumbled under his breath, picking his fork back up and stabbing into his food like it had wronged him.

And Chishiya? Chishiya just watched you.

~

The day had passed in silence, for the most part. You had spent it in your room, away from them, letting them exist without you hovering, without your warmth pressing in on them when you knew—despite how much Niragi pulled for your touch and how much Chishiya lingered in your presence—they needed space. They weren’t used to people like you, weren’t used to someone always being there, always giving a fuck, and even though they tolerated it, you knew when to let them be.

So, you left them to it. Whatever they did, wherever they were, you didn’t ask. You didn’t go searching. You just curled up in your room, lying on your stomach, flipping through a book that you weren’t really reading. Your mind drifted to things you’d never say out loud, things you weren’t even sure why you thought about. You wondered if Niragi was still as angry as he always was when you weren’t in the room. If Chishiya, left to his own devices, ever let his mind wander to you the way yours wandered to him.

You wondered if either of them even needed you, or if you were just something warm and entertaining.

Still, you didn’t regret being you. You never did.

It was sometime in the late evening when you finally emerged, stretching out your stiff muscles as you walked into the living room. Niragi was there, sprawled out lazily in one of the chairs, flipping his knife over and over between his fingers. The one you gave him. His eyes flickered to you the second you stepped in, a habit of his now, like he had to acknowledge you every time you were near.

You didn’t think much of it.

“…Shouldn’t you be getting ready?” you asked, tilting your head.

Niragi huffed. “Yeah, yeah.” But he didn’t move.

You raised an eyebrow. “Then why are you still here?”

He spun his knife a little faster, then caught it, flicking his eyes up at you. “I don’t wanna walk with him.”

Oh.

You blinked, then exhaled a soft laugh. “Really?”

Niragi scoffed, stretching his long legs out, slouching further into the chair. “He’s annoying.”

“You’re going to miss your game just because you don’t want to walk next to him?” you asked.

“Maybe.”

You rolled your eyes, stepping closer, nudging his leg with your foot. “Come on.” you coaxed, voice gentle, light. “Don’t be a baby. Go.”

He gave you a look, like he found it funny when you pushed at him.

Then, before he could get another word out, you lifted your hand, pulling the black hair tie off your wrist and stepping behind him.

You gathered his hair, fingers threading through the strands, tying it up into that half-up style he always wore. It was second nature to you, the way you handled him, the way you touched him so easily, as if you weren’t touching someone who had probably never been handled like this in his life.

Niragi stiffened for a second, his usual instinct, but then—he let you.

You felt his shoulders relax under your hands, felt the way his head tilted slightly into your touch as you secured the tie, keeping his hair out of his face.

It wasn’t even a thought in your mind that this was something he should have done. It wasn’t something you even considered he might not want. Because Niragi wasn’t the type to say no to you when it came to touch, not anymore. And you? You weren’t the type to stop giving it.

“There.” you murmured, stepping back slightly, admiring your work.

Niragi tilted his head slightly, rolling his shoulders. “Mm. Not bad.”

You smiled, patting his shoulder lightly. “Now, go before you miss your game.”

He scoffed, stretching his arms above his head. “Yeah, yeah.”

Still, he didn’t move right away. And you caught it, the way he lingered, the way he let his fingers twitch against his thigh like he was debating something, like he wanted something.

You thought about it, then, about how easy it was for him to take when he wanted something, and yet, when it came to you, he waited. He didn’t demand it. Didn’t just grab at you.

He waited.

And that was all you needed to know.

So, with a little smile, you leaned down, pressing a warm hand against the side of his face, your fingers just barely brushing his ear. A simple touch, but a grounding one. A comfort, soft and unspoken.

“That should last you a while.” you hummed.

Niragi’s tongue flicked over his teeth, his eyes half-lidded as he rolled his jaw, tilting his head ever so slightly into your touch.

You didn’t comment on it. Didn’t say a word.

And neither did he.

Then, just as easily, you pulled away, stepping back, gesturing toward the door. “Go. Win your game.”

Niragi exhaled, standing up with a stretch. “Fine, fine. I’m fucking going.”

You grinned. “Good.”

He gave you a look, something unreadable flashing through his eyes before he clicked his tongue and made his way toward the door.

You watched him go, your head tilting slightly.

~

The night was quiet, the streets even more so. The only sound was the distant faint echo of something far off in the city—maybe another game, maybe just the wind. The air smelled like blood and sweat, the remnants of the game they had just won, but neither of them seemed to care.

Niragi sat on the pavement, one knee propped up, cigarette dangling between his fingers. He took a slow drag, letting the smoke sit in his lungs before exhaling it through his nose. The embers burned red in the dark.

Next to him, Chishiya sat with his arms resting on his knees, staring straight ahead. He didn’t look tired, didn’t look affected—just there, as if he hadn’t just walked out of a game where death had been a very real possibility.

Neither of them spoke for a while.

“…Didn’t think you’d actually come.” Niragi muttered, flicking the ash off his cigarette.

Chishiya hummed, tilting his head slightly. “I’m here.”

Niragi scoffed, rolling his tongue over his teeth. “Yeah. Here you fucking are.” He took another drag, exhaled, then turned his head slightly toward Chishiya. “What, you wanted a front-row seat to me dying or something?”

Chishiya barely glanced at him. “I would’ve left if that was the case. Boring way to go.”

Niragi let out a sharp laugh, bitter. “You really are a fucking asshole.”

Chishiya didn’t deny it.

Silence stretched again, the only movement coming from Niragi bringing the cigarette back to his lips. Then, after a moment, Chishiya shifted, resting his chin on his hand.

“You know,” he said, voice as flat as ever. “for someone who acts like he has nothing to lose, you sure do have something keeping you around now.”

Niragi’s eyes flickered to him, narrowing slightly. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Chishiya smirked, barely. “You know what it means.”

Niragi clicked his tongue, tapping his cigarette against the pavement. “Tch. You think just because she babies me, I give a fuck?”

Chishiya gave him a look, one of those slow, unimpressed ones, the kind that made it clear he didn’t buy a word coming out of Niragi’s mouth.

Niragi held his gaze for a moment, then scoffed, rolling his shoulders. “I don’t need her.” he muttered.

“No.” Chishiya agreed easily, shifting his gaze back toward the street. “But you want her.”

Niragi’s jaw twitched.

Chishiya wasn’t wrong, but fuck, did it piss him off to hear it out loud.

Another silence stretched, Niragi finishing his cigarette, flicking the butt onto the pavement. He pressed it out with the toe of his boot, watching the embers die out before exhaling a slow breath.

“…And what about you?” he asked suddenly, his voice lower, more serious.

Chishiya didn’t answer right away. He sat there, still, his eyes slightly narrowed as if he was thinking. Then, finally, he said, “She’s interesting.”

Niragi scoffed. “Bullshit.”

“Believe what you want.”

Niragi wasn’t stupid. He knew there was more to it than that.

He also knew Chishiya well enough to know he wouldn’t say it.

Still, he had a feeling they were on the same page about one thing.

That girl—their girl—was different.

And no matter how much they tried to ignore it, she was changing things for both of them.

Niragi pushed himself up with a grunt, stretching his arms over his head. His joints cracked, his muscles ached, but he felt alive. Winning felt good, even if the game itself had been bullshit. The adrenaline had long since settled, replaced with exhaustion that he refused to acknowledge.

Chishiya stood up too, though with far less effort, far less noise. That was the thing about him—always so fucking quiet, like a ghost slipping through the cracks. He brushed some dust off his pants, then shoved his hands into his pockets, looking about as unbothered as ever.

Niragi rolled his shoulders, then tilted his head toward Chishiya with a smirk. “Hope you enjoyed the show, asshole.”

Chishiya didn’t even glance at him. “It was predictable.”

That pissed Niragi off, just a little. “Predictable?” he repeated, stepping closer. “You wouldn’t have lasted a fucking second if you had to play without me.”

Chishiya finally turned to face him, that same infuriating smirk on his lips. “And yet, I did.”

Niragi sneered, stepping even closer, looming. “Yeah? You wanna test that theory, little man?”

Chishiya didn’t move. Didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. He just let the words hang between them, let Niragi stand there with all his anger, all his frustration, and met it with nothing. That was the worst part about him—he didn’t fight back, not in the way Niragi wanted. He just existed, untouchable, always one step ahead, and fuck, was that irritating.

Finally, Niragi exhaled sharply through his nose, clicking his tongue. “Tch. Whatever.” He turned on his heel, shoving his hands in his pockets, starting down the street. “Let’s go.”

Chishiya followed, not because Niragi told him to, but because he was going back to the same place.

Back to you.

Neither of them said it, but both of them were thinking it.

It was late, their bodies ached, their minds were running on fumes, but they both wanted to go back to that apartment. It wasn’t home. It never would be. But you were there, and for some fucked-up reason, that was enough to keep them walking.

Niragi was the first to break the silence. “If she fucking cries or some shit when she sees me, I’m gonna kill her.”

Chishiya hummed. “No, you won’t.”

Niragi shot him a glare. “Shut the fuck up.”

Chishiya just smirked. “She’s probably still awake.”

Niragi scoffed, but yeah. You probably were. Waiting, worrying, being the soft thing that you always were.

It annoyed him.

It also made him walk a little faster.

~

The moment the door cracked open, you were already moving.

It was late—too late. You had been sitting in the living room, hands curled around a cup of tea that had gone cold hours ago, waiting for them. When you heard the click of the lock, you shot up from your seat, setting the cup down with barely a thought.

And there they were. Niragi first, stepping inside with that cocky grin, and Chishiya just behind him, calm.

They were fine. At least, that’s what it looked like.

But that wasn’t enough for you.

You hurried over, your hands already reaching for Niragi before he could say a word. You grabbed his arm, checking for cuts, bruises, anything. His shirt was open, a little disheveled, and your hands smoothed over the fabric, searching.

“Are you okay?” you asked, voice soft, full of worry.

Niragi rolled his eyes. “You’re so fucking annoying.” But he didn’t push you away.

You ignored him, moving to check his hands next, turning them over in yours. His knuckles were a little red—maybe from gripping his gun too hard, maybe from something else—but no real damage. That was good.

Then, you looked up at his face. His eyes were dark, tired. He smelled like gunpowder and sweat, and there was a hint of something metallic—blood, but not his.

You sighed. “You scared me.”

“Tch.” He pulled his hands away, stuffing them into his pockets. “I didn’t ask you to wait up.”

“I know.” You looked at him, really looked at him. And there it was—the smallest flicker of something, something beneath the sharp words and the smug expression. He liked that you waited. He liked that you worried. He just didn’t know how to deal with it.

You smiled at him anyway. Then, you turned to Chishiya.

He was watching you. Of course he was.

He always watched.

You stepped closer, and unlike Niragi, he didn’t move away. You reached for his sleeve, fingers brushing against his wrist. “You?”

“I’m fine.” Chishiya said simply, but he didn’t pull away.

You checked anyway. Your hands ghosted over his arms, his shoulders, even though he showed no signs of injury. He let you, let you fuss over him, let you touch him, and the fact that he didn’t stop you told you more than words ever could.

“You’re both okay.” you murmured, more to yourself than anything. You finally exhaled, some of the tension melting from your body.

There was silence for a moment.

Then Niragi scoffed, shifting his weight. “Are you done playing nurse or whatever?”

You looked back at him. “I could make something for you before you sleep.”

Niragi snorted. “I’m going to bed.” But the way his eyes lingered on you for a second too long told you he liked the offer.

You didn’t push. You just nodded, watching as he walked off toward his room, muttering under his breath.

That left you and Chishiya in the quiet.

You turned back to him, tilting your head. “And you?”

“Not hungry.”

You smiled anyway. “Alright.”

And just like that, it was over. They were home, they were safe, and you could breathe again.

For now.

You reached out, fingers just barely brushing against his sleeve again, a soft touch. Chishiya looked down at it, then back at you. His expression didn’t change—still unreadable, still detached—but he didn’t move away.

“Go to bed, sweetheart.” you murmured. Your voice was warm, affectionate, like honey poured over an open wound. It didn’t ask. It didn’t demand. It simply was.

Chishiya should have scoffed at that. Should have rolled his eyes. Should have thrown something back at you, maybe something condescending, maybe something cruel, the way he did with everyone else.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he just stared at you, silent, weighing something in that brilliant, calculated mind of his. He was trying to figure you out again, picking apart your words, your tone, your kindness. Because people like you—soft, good, endlessly patient—were people he was supposed to hate.

And yet.

He shifted, stuffing his hands into his pockets, his posture as lazy as ever. “Hm.” he hummed, something noncommittal. And then, he turned and walked off, heading toward his room without another word.

You watched him go, a small, knowing smile tugging at your lips.

Chishiya should hate you. He really, really should. You were everything he despised—overly trusting, endlessly warm, a person who believed in people even when they had given you every reason not to. He hated people like that.

Because they were stupid. Because they were naive.

Because they got hurt.

Because he couldn’t be that.

But you weren’t stupid. You weren’t naive. You knew the kind of people you had let into your home. You knew what Niragi was, what he was. You knew, and yet you still loved them.

That should have disgusted him.

Instead, he found himself listening to the quiet sound of your breathing as he walked away. Instead, he found himself thinking about how you didn’t even flinch when Niragi got mean, how you didn’t snap at Chishiya for his words, how you just existed between them—sweet, steady, unshaken.

Instead, he found himself doing exactly what you said.

Going to bed, sweetheart.

❤︎︎ @lizntstoptalking @cherryheairt @fiction-fantasy-folks @monkey4lifer @psychicyouthfox @so-dramatic1 @mypsychoticlove @unhinged-sorcerer @rattymess @mochii-writes @adanfore @scarlet703 @fluentgoddess @maxinehufflepuffprincess