#like the things you thought you'd lost and the places you thought you'd already looked in

[purinfelix]

from your last post could i request pedri? from “about you” by the 1975 where perhaps reader and pedri had a past relationship all throughout high school and when pedri left for barcelona they lost contact / broke up but years later they reunite somehow? When they do it’s like a “i thought you’d forget about me by now” to “how could i forget about you?” maybe angst to fluff! sorry that was so long … i hope it made sense lol <33

did you think i'd have forgotten? ✶⋆.˚ - pedri gonzalez

w/c: 600 a/n: this is one of my fav songs of all time so tysm for this (and for giving a specific request HAHA) i got quite a few for this song but i liked this idea the most and thought it fit the best - hope u enjoy anon !! <3333

this is part of my 1k event - check out the rules here!!

He still looked exactly the same.

Or at least, from what you could make as your train sped past where he was standing on the platform - though you were pretty sure you could still faintly his features, that dark black hair, the crinkle in the corner of his eyes as he laughed.

It was all exactly the same.

And maybe it was the realisation, that feeling of noticing someone familiar in a place like this - or something deeper within you that you dared not to question - that pushed you to speed off the train at the last minute when this wasn't even your stop. Maybe it was this that made you walk, then jog, then sprint towards what you recognised as his figure in the distance.

But it was also the reminder of what happened between you two, all those years ago, that brought your sprint to a screeching halt. And what would be the chances of you running into your ex-boyfriend here, at a random station, far away from your hometown or the country he had left you to move to? How could you face him, after all that?

"Y/N, is that you?" Too late.

"Pedri?" you called out, your tone confused even though you had made up your mind about it being him long before he had.

"Woah, hi, what are you doing here!"

"I could ask you the same thing," you laugh, a little awkwardly.

"I'm here for a match, we're playing a local team."

"Oh, right," you smile, of course, "I study here."

There's a slight pause, in which you can see Pedri's expression turn into one of surprise. "I didn't know that."

"I mean, why would you?" You regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth, but it's too late since his face is already donning an apologetic look.

"Right, sorry," he mumbles, shoving his hands in his pockets as he looks at the floor. "What are you studying?" he says after a while of silence.

"Nursing," you say matter-of-factly.

"Of course, you'll be great at that," he says, offering a warm smile.

It's clear he's eager to make this exchange as normal as possible, and you'd probably be obliged to let him. But it's hard to be normal given what happened between the two of you, when this is the first time you've spoken to him in years.

"It's nice to see you," he says after another moment of silence.

"Same for you," you laugh shyly trying to avoid eye contact, "I figured you'd forgotten about me by now."

"How could I forget about you?" When you look into his eyes again, you're taken aback by how well his expression reflects his words - his brows tilted slightly up in the inner corners, a tender confusion at the fact that you'd think he'd dare to forget about you.

"Well, you know with how famous you are and everything, I see how they chant your names when you play," you begin to ramble, eager to explain yourself.

"Well, I'd hardly consider myself fam- wait, you watch my games?"

"Well, yeah," you sigh shyly, feeling your cheeks glow pink at the sight of his smirk. The two of you stand there, looking at each other for a while, exchanging sly glances - and it feels, just for a moment, like you're the same high schoolers who were in a puppy-love relationship.

"Are you doing anything now?" he asks you.

"Well, I was on my way to class but I'm probably late for that now."

"Do you want to grab some coffee? I want you to show me what's good around here," he smiles, "oh, and catch me up on how you're doing."

You feel your cheeks begin to ache from how wide you're smiling.

"I'd like that," you nod, "I'd like that a lot."

[batmanlovesnirvana]

— ‘our love still remains.’

BRUCE WAYNE X FEM!READER

ONE SHOT | angst, death, murder, depression, drugs, suicidal thoughts.

synopsis : A year had passed since you died, but grief lingered, clinging to Bruce like the ash of a fire long extinguished.

A/N : This was inspired by this haunting scene between Thomas Shelby and Grace’s ghost. It’s one of my favorite moments—so raw and emotional—and I couldn’t help but feel it resonates deeply with Bruce. The weight of grief, love, and unresolved pain feels like a perfect fit for his character.

English isn’t my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes!

WAYNE MANOR had never seemed so empty.

A place once filled with quiet purpose, with the steady rhythm of lives intertwined, was now a mausoleum—a tomb for memories that Bruce could neither escape nor embrace.

You had been dead for a year, and with you, everything human in him had begun to rot.

He was barely functional. No. That wasn't right. He wasn't functional at all. 

A ghost of himself wandered these halls, sat in these rooms, wore his skin, but it wasn't him. 

Not anymore.

The fire in the study crackled weakly, but its warmth never reached him. It flickered, casting trembling shadows on the dark oak walls, as if mocking his inability to burn with anything but guilt.

Bruce sat hunched in his chair, his head low, his shirt disheveled and sleeves rolled up. 

The man who had once stood as Gotham's unshakable guardian, a force of sheer will, was now a fractured thing.

His eyes, sunken and bloodshot, stared into the flames, but they saw nothing. He didn't need to see. He had already memorized the way the world looked without you in it.

The decanter of whiskey shimmered in the firelight, its amber liquid untouched at his side. He had never been one to drink—not before. But since you'd been gone, nothing was the same.

Tonight, though, the glass remained full. Not yet. Not for this. 

He couldn't dull the edges of this particular torment. He had to feel it, let it pull him under, heavy and unrelenting, like a stone tethered to his chest, dragging him to the depths.

His hand hovered over the glass, fingers curling tightly around it, the tension in his knuckles sharp and pale. The tremor wasn't from the cold but from the brutal weight of his own restraint. His mind hissed its merciless refrain, over and over, unyielding:

It should've been me. Not you.

Me. Not you.

Me. Not you.

The glass gave way with a brittle snap, the shards biting into his palm, the sound cutting through the suffocating quiet like a scream. He didn't flinch. The brief sting was insignificant, a pale shadow of the raw, festering wound buried deep within—a wound that time had refused to heal, a wound that still bled.

He craves the burn. Craves the searing pain, the consuming fire that might finally match the inferno raging inside him—the fire that could never touch you the way it's devoured him.

The night presses close, suffocating and merciless, but he doesn't move.

He doesn't patrol. He doesn't sleep. He doesn't eat.

He simply exists, caught in the liminal space where grief and guilt coil around each other, tightening like a noose. Waiting—for the silence to break, for the weight to crush him, for something, anything, to drag him back from the edge of this endless void.

The door sighed as it swung open, the faint creak swallowed by the oppressive stillness.

Alfred entered, a silver tray balanced in his steady hands, its polished surface catching the flickering glow of the fire. Every movement was deliberate, quiet, as though the room itself demanded reverence. He set the tray down with a soft clink, his weathered face composed, but his eyes—sharp and searching—betrayed the concern he could no longer contain.

"Master Wayne..." His voice was soft, hesitant, like stepping onto fragile ground.

Bruce didn't stir. His gaze remained fixed on the fire, the flames reflected in his eyes like ghosts of battles fought and lost.

Undeterred, Alfred took a step closer, his measured footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. "I thought you might need something to eat. It's been... some time." His tone was calm, but beneath it lay a quiet plea.

The silence stretched, vast and unyielding. Bruce remained a statue, motionless, unhearing—or perhaps unwilling to hear.

Alfred lingered, his hands clasped behind his back. He studied the man slumped in the chair, once an unshakable force—a sentinel against the darkness, a man who bore the weight of Gotham like it was his birthright.

But now?

Now, he was something hollow.

A shadow consumed by grief, its edges blurred, its substance eaten away until nothing but silence remained.

"No patrol tonight, then?" Alfred asked, though he already knew the answer.

Bruce's hands trembled faintly—not from the cold, nor from the blood still drying on his knuckles—but from something far deeper, raw and unrelenting.

The old butler sighed.

Reaching into his coat pocket, he withdrew a small glass vial and placed it on the tray with deliberate care. The gesture was quiet, pointed—a subtle admonition wrapped in concern.

"I'm worried, sir," Alfred said, his voice thick with the weight of restrained emotion. "About the medicine. You've been relying on it too much."

Bruce's eyes flicked to the vial, his fingers curling involuntarily, but his lips remained sealed.

His gaze turned distant, unfocused, as though he were retreating into some unreachable corner of his mind. The flicker of firelight played across his expression, but it gave nothing away. The silence, though, spoke volumes.

The fire crackled softly, its warmth feeble against the icy void that seemed to envelop the room.

"She wouldn't want this," Alfred ventured at last, his voice trembling at the edges. The words came haltingly, heavy with pain. Saying them was a struggle; even he found it difficult to speak of her. "I know it's hard, but—"

But he faltered.

What could he say to a man who had lost so much? To a man who believed the one constant in his life—the one light in his endless night—had slipped from his grasp because of him? What comfort could Alfred offer someone who carried the unbearable weight of guilt and grief and punished himself for it, day after day?

Not even the ever-thoughtful Alfred had answers for that.

He lingered for a moment longer, his weathered gaze heavy with unspoken worry, before letting out a quiet, resigned sigh. Stepping back, he retreated as softly as he'd entered, unwilling to disturb the fragile stillness any further.

The door closed behind him with a muted click, leaving Bruce alone once more in the oppressive quiet, the firelight casting shadows that danced like ghosts around the room.

Bruce didn't move. The tray remained untouched, its polished surface glinting dully in the flickering firelight. The room seemed colder somehow, emptier, as though the flames themselves were losing the will to fight against the encroaching dark.

The silence pressed down, heavy and suffocating.

His hand moved slowly, hesitantly, reaching for the vial. His fingers trembled as they closed around the cool glass, the faint quiver betraying the storm raging beneath his impassive exterior. He held it up, watching the liquid swirl under the amber glow of the fire. For a moment, he hesitated—then tipped his head back, letting the bitter contents slide down his throat in one unbroken motion.

The burn was sharp. Familiar. Almost comforting.

But it fixed nothing.

The ache inside him remained, raw and unrelenting. He stayed rooted to the chair, unable to move, the weight of his grief pinning him down. His eyes drifted to the shards of glass scattered across the carpet, their jagged edges catching the firelight like cruel reflections of his fractured soul.

With a sudden, violent motion, he hurled the empty vial into the flames. It shattered on impact, the fire greedily consuming the fragments until nothing remained.

His head dropped into his hands, shoulders curling inward as though trying to shield himself from the crushing weight of everything he couldn't escape. The room fell silent again, save for the crackle of the fire, each ember rising like a ghost of what once was.

And then, it happened. Just as it always did.

The impossible.

You appeared.

Bruce's cold, detached eyes flickered, his breath hitching as the warmth of an illusion—one he neither welcomed nor could let go—took shape before him.

You were perched on the edge of the canopy seat by the window, your silk pajamas catching the soft firelight in a way that felt achingly real. One leg was tucked beneath you, the other dangling lazily, your toes grazing the rug in that familiar way that sent a sharp pang through his chest.

Your hair spilled loose around your shoulders, soft and untamed, just as it had on those stolen nights when dawn would catch you both mid-conversation, the rest of the world forgotten.

And then there was the smile. That quiet, tender smile—the one that had unraveled him every time, breaking through walls he hadn't even realized he'd built.

Bruce swallowed hard, his voice hoarse when he finally spoke.

"What now?"

Bruce's bitter smile wavered as you tilted your head, amusement flickering in your eyes like embers in the fire.

"What am I, a genie?" you teased, your voice light but carrying an undercurrent of something deeper, something unspoken. Your gaze darted to the flames, where the shattered remnants of the vial had disappeared. "Summoning me with your little bottle of dope now?"

His laugh was dry, almost inaudible. "I take it for the pain," he murmured, the words heavy, fragile, as if they might shatter under the weight of his grief. His eyes found yours, softening in a way that made him feel utterly exposed. "To keep warm."

You moved then, gliding across the room with that effortless grace he had memorized, your bare feet soundless against the carpet. He stiffened when he felt your fingers ghost across his shoulder—a touch too warm, too tender to be real. Yet he didn't pull away.

"Is that what it's for?" you asked, your voice wrapping around him like a balm for a wound that would never heal. "The warmth?"

Bruce closed his eyes, his head dipping forward slightly as if trying to catch just a moment more of the phantom sensation. "The warmth," he echoed, his voice breaking. "All this time..."

You moved again, slipping into the space beside him on the couch, your presence as vivid as the firelight dancing in his peripheral vision.

He turned toward you, and for the briefest, most treacherous moment, it felt real—your scent, your nearness, the way you looked at him like you could see straight through to his soul.

He leaned in, his breath catching as he inhaled the memory of you, his eyes fluttering shut in the desperate hope that he could hold on just a little longer. Just a little longer.

But deep down, he knew.

It wasn't real.

It never was.

The realization struck like a knife twisting in his chest, but he clung to the illusion all the same. He would take anything—anything—to feel you again, even if it was a cruel lie conjured by his own fractured mind.

To touch you. To kiss you. To lose himself in you, the only solace he had ever known.

Since your death, there had been no one else. No empty arms, no fleeting connections. He didn't want anyone else. Couldn't. It was always you. It would always be you.

"I know," you whispered, your hand brushing his cheek in a gesture so gentle, it nearly broke him. His breath hitched, a tear slipping free.

"Our love still remains," you said, your words a quiet promise in the suffocating silence.

And you were right.

Because no matter who tried to step into his life, none of them could ever compare to you.

Bruce's head bowed, his shoulders trembling as he pressed his forehead to the illusion of your hand.

He didn't speak, didn't dare. He let the hallucination linger, let it fill the gaping void inside him for as long as it would. When it faded—and it always did—the cold would return, and he would be alone once more.

They lingered in that fragile silence, heavy with the weight of unsaid words, the room echoing with everything neither could bear to voice.

At last, you broke it, your tone steady yet tender. "But you have to listen, Bruce. To the voices you hear. To what they're telling you."

His brow furrowed deeply, his eyes squeezing shut as if to block out everything but you. "There's too much to do," he whispered, his voice trembling, breaking under the strain. His breath hitched unevenly. "The kids... the city... it never stops."

When he finally opened his eyes, they met yours, glassy and filled with unshed tears. "I need to say goodbye," he confessed, his voice a raw whisper, hoarse and fractured.

He rubbed his face with trembling hands, weary to his bones. "I need to sleep... just for a little while."

Your hands cradled his face again, grounding him in the moment, as real to him as the warmth of the fire. "Then think, Bruce," you urged, your voice a mix of unwavering love and quiet strength. "Think about what I would tell you. About what you need to do."

A tear slipped down his cheek, his body trembling as he leaned into the phantom touch. He tried to form words, but they came out as fractured pieces of his anguish. "It's too much... I can't... I should've..."

His voice cracked and faltered. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should've protected you. I should've saved you."

"You don't need to apologize," you said softly, your voice cutting through his despair like a light in the dark. "I was never angry with you, Bruce. I never could be."

His chest clenched painfully, a fresh wave of tears spilling free. "But I failed you," he choked out, his voice barely audible.

"You didn't fail me," you replied, your words sharp yet soothing. "But you're failing yourself."

You moved in closer, kneeling in front of him, your hands lifting his face so his eyes met yours.

There was a love in your gaze that steadied him, but also something more—a heaviness, a truth he couldn't yet name. "This isn't the way, Bruce. I won't let you destroy yourself like this."

His grief overtook him, his entire frame trembling with the force of it. "I can't let go," he admitted, his voice breaking as fresh sobs racked his body. "Not of you. Not yet."

Your smile returned, soft and filled with sadness. "Then let go of the pain," you said gently. "Let go of the guilt. Let go of the past. I'm here, but I can't stay. Not like this. Not while you're lost in the dark."

His heart shattered again, the pieces cutting deeper, but he couldn't deny the truth in your words.

"Please," he whispered, his voice raw, pleading, desperate. "Please don't leave me. I can't do this alone."

But you were already slipping away, your warmth dissipating like smoke, fading from his grasp.

He reached out, his hands trembling, but there was nothing there—nothing to hold onto. The room grew colder, your presence vanishing into the shadows, leaving him alone in the silence.

The fire crackled softly, its flames flickering weakly against the oppressive darkness. The emptiness of the room settled over him, pressing down with a weight he couldn't bear.

"I'll never let go," he whispered, his voice fragile, a shattered promise he knew he could never keep.

But you were gone. And the silence consumed everything.

Bruce's hand lingered on his cheek, still warm from where you'd touched him, but it too began to cool, slipping away too quickly.

Long moments passed before his voice cracked through the stillness, breaking the silence like glass. "I'll think," he murmured into the void. "I promise."

Even as the words left his lips, they felt empty—hollow echoes in a room full of nothing. 

As hollow as the man who spoke them.

go check [ TU’BURNI (Bruce Wayne fic) ]

Little thing while I write the next chapters of TU’BURNI :)

I’ve been considering publishing one of my Tommy Shelby fics, so if anyone’s interested, please lmk.

[genghisthebrain]

that feeling when you find something you thought was lost forever >>>>>

[targaryen-dynasty]

REDAMANCY.

Cregan Stark x female Targaryen!Reader (Part 4 here)

From the very beginning on you’ve been hesitant to accept your younger brother’s offer to return to the capital for your child to receive his blessings. And when you‘re finally on the way, it’s your husband‘s duty to take care of you.

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MDNI; p in v, lactation kink, lactating, pregnant sex, pregnancy, slight breeding kink, praise kink, slight degrading, angst, fluff

WORDS: 3.3 K

NOTES: Redamancy means A love returned in full; an act of loving the one who loves you, and let me tell you: these two are in love. Thanks to @sylasthegrim, it‘s always good to know you help me with my zero grasp on English!

✖️ 𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

Ravens from Winterfell flying all the way down to King’s Landing has always taken quite some time. And therefore it was no wonder you were surprised that one of your younger brother’s ravens reached the castle not long after you'd informed him you were with child, inviting you to birth it in the Red Keep for it to receive the young king’s blessings.

Being the ever dutiful Lord of House Stark, there was no way your husband would refuse the offer, and once your pregnancy had crossed the seventh moon mark, a carriage and your husband’s entourage were sent south.

From the very beginning on you’ve been hesitant to accept the offer. Westeros’ capital has brought nothing but pain and grief to you, and you’re afraid coming back ruins the comfort and peace you’ve found far, far away from the castle in the North, in Winterfell. But a part of you misses and longs for your siblings and the part of your family that’s still left, hence it didn’t take too much convincing from your husband.

You’ve lost count of the days you spent in that damned carriage by now, solely accompanied by your maids as your dear husband rides at the front of his entourage, joining his men on horseback. But there’s one thing all days have in common: it’s you being exhausted beyond relief once night comes.

For the longest time you thought your unborn babe to be no-fussy and calm, which proved to be false just one week into the travel. It’s restless, kicking and moving especially when you finally find rest in the bed of the receptive inn you stay in for the night. Your feet are swollen, just like your breasts, and your body provides milk as though the babe has been long born already, and all you crave at this point is for the pregnancy to be over already.

As the wheelhouse comes to a stop, you rub your swollen bump with a sigh, looking toward the door with heavy footsteps approaching. Your beloved husband opens the door, and even though he won’t admit it, he looks just as exhausted as you do.

“Is it time?” you ask, slowly rising to your feet with another sigh. You place your small hand in his large one, allowing him to help you out.

He nods, bringing a hand to the small of your back. “Indeed. We have reached the crossroads. From here we are only ten days away from King’s Landing, which means the end of our journey is in sight,” he replies. “How are you and our son feeling?”

Cregan guides you away from the wheelhouse, escorting you through the crowd of his men towards a large inn sitting right where the river road crosses the kingsroad. And from old tales of your uncle you know it has to be the Bellringer Inn, a place where even your great-grandfather and great-grandmother have stayed at before.

“We do not yet know if this babe will be a boy or a girl, husband,” you chastise him in a teasing manner.

“You are right, we do not,” he says. “But I feel it in my bones. Just call it a father’s intuition.”

You roll your eyes at his words and nudge his ribs with your elbow, yet there also pulls a smile at the corners of your lips. He chuckles at that. “Careful, my love, I am not as nimble as I used to be.”

Shaking your head, you giggle softly. “Do not tell me that you are an old man now, Lord Stark.”

As you make your way through the courtyard and towards the inn, you can feel the curious glances of the passerby; a man of Cregan’s caliber always drew the attention toward him, just like your hair did. But you’re unbothered by it all. You carry a piece of your husband within you, and that thought fills you with a sense of fulfillment and pride.

He looks for the innkeeper as you reach for his hand, pulling it from your back around your frame, squeezing it softly. “Might you join me tonight? I know that you can not leave your men alone, but one night will surely do no harm. I must admit that I have hardly found sleep without your warmth for the past weeks.”

With a gentle, intimate gesture, Cregan brushes his fingers over your swollen bump, before pulling you against his side. “How can I ever be expected to refuse anything my beautiful wife asks of me? Of course I will join you tonight.” Leaning a bit closer toward you, he adds with a quiet whisper: “Your presence has been missed in my bed as well. The nights feel cold and lonely without you by my side.”

Heat crawls onto your cheeks at the proximity and the slight implication that comes with his words, solely interrupted when a stout man with a bushy beard but otherwise pleasant demeanor walks around the corner and welcomes you two.

Upon Cregan’s inquiry about the availability of a room, he hands over the keys and leads you toward your place of retreat for the night. More than once have you told Cregan you’re perfectly fine with sleeping in a tent with him, yet he always came back to your delicate condition, stating he only wants the best for you and his unborn child, and you eventually have given up and accepted it.

The room is decent. Not as big as your chambers at home, but still larger than what you’ve slept in for the last few weeks. Your maids already scurry into the room to bring some of your belongings and clothes to get you ready for the night, while Cregan leans in to kiss your temple. “Let me arrange for my man to sleep outside the inn for the night,” he mutters against your skin. “And then we shall spend the night in warm beds.”

Even with your maids bustling around you, you can’t help but feel a flicker of excitement at his words. The prospect of sharing the night with him is enough to make you forget the soreness of your swollen curves that has become a constant companion over the past few moons.

“I will freshen up in the meantime,” you say, leaning into his touch before he pulls away to take care of his men’s sleeping arrangements for the night. Once everything was adjusted in the chambers, your maids moved to help you out of your clothes, but you refused them, having planned something very special.

Standing in front of the small window, overlooking a stable with a thatch roof and a bell tower, you all but admire how quietly Cregan opens the door, and with the lock falling right into place behind him, the room grows even quieter and the atmosphere becomes charged with anticipation.

“Is everything sorted?” you ask, looking at him from over your shoulder.

“All set,” your husband replies with a low voice as he approaches you.

He comes to tower over your frame from behind, moving his hands over your hips up to your waist. Lifting your head, your eyes lock with his. “Alone at last, hm?” There’s a sultry smile on your lips now, and you gently reach behind you to cup his cheek with one hand. “Now you’re all mine for the night.”

You lean against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breaths against your back. Cregan seizes the opportunity and brushes your hair over one shoulder before he presses his lips to the crook of your neck. The touch makes you sigh, stirring something inside of you you have had to keep at bay for quite some time. When he brings his large hands to your swollen breasts, fondling them through the thick fabric of your dress, you can’t help but moan, the slight squeezing aiding against the heaviness.

But then his hands and lips leave your body, and he slightly leans around you to look at you – or rather your breasts – and you immediately know the reason why.

The gray fabric has become damp under his touch, two dark spots prominent in the front of it. While it brings a bit of shame to your cheeks, the low rumble that escapes his chest sends a fire straight down between your legs. “I should have warned you I started leaking a fortnight ago,” you admit ashamedly, biting your bottom lip.

“I quite enjoy the sight of it, you know,” he says, voice laced with a combination of awe, adoration and burning need. His hands shift to the lace in the back of your dress. “But let us put this to good use.”

The dress comes undone with ease, falling to the floor in a puddle around your feet. Damp spots are decorating your smallclothes, but this time you don’t mind the sight. Cregan’s hands now roam over your body, tracing the curve of your waist and your growing bump.

Although you know exactly what it is his words are meant to imply, you choose to tease him. “And what is it you have in mind right now, hm?”

His gray eyes briefly flicker to the bed close to you, before meeting yours again. “I have a few things in mind. But for now…” He cups your chin, tilting your head up so he can claim your lips in a slow, deep kiss that’s full of desire and passion. It makes you feel as though the air is sucked right out of your lungs by him, as if you can’t survive without his lips on yours. “How about we make the most of this night, my love?”

“I’m all yours,” you breathe against his lips.

His large hands roam your curves, helping you out of your undergarments, until they settle at your thighs, wrapping around them to effortlessly hoist you up. Although Cregan is quite the bull of a man and appears to be a brute, he possesses a tenderness you wouldn’t expect from him, gently keeping your body against his and lying you down on the bed not far away just as carefully.

Soft, gentle kisses are pressed to your collarbones, igniting a fire within you that has been smoldering for too long. As his fingers glide over your skin with featherlight touches, leaving a burning trail behind, he finds his hands drawn to your full breasts, cupping and holding them, and eventually squeezing them.

More droplets of your milk trickle into his calloused palms, wetting his skin, but he does not care–not when he has you writhing and whimpering beneath him at just the faintest of touches.

Your husband’s eagerness would have almost made you chuckle, watching him rise from the bed to rid himself off his clothes hastily, if it wouldn’t match your own desire and greediness. With his breeches falling to the ground, his cock stands to full attention, hard enough for it to almost seem painful.

His hungry gazes devours your bare form, tall frame slightly hunched forwards as his chest rises and falls with heavy breaths.

“Will you just stand there and watch, my wolf?” you tease, propping yourself up on your elbows. “What happened to ‘let us put this to good use’?”

It’s the teasing lilt in your voice that pulls him out of his stupor like a wave, the chuckle he releases low and throaty. “You are a temptress, my love,” he replies. “You are lucky I am a man of my word.”

“Then touch me,” you whine, words coming out more desperate than actually intended.

He doesn’t need any more encouragement. Slowly approaching the bed, Cregan bows forwards and grabs one of your feet. He lifts your leg and starts to trail sloppy, open mouthed kisses along the inside of your leg, occasionally nibbling on the skin of your inner thigh.

Your back slightly arches off the mattress, body thrumming with desire. Entangling your hands in his dark curls, you use the grip as reigns to where you want him most, but your husband acts completely unfazed, not allowing you to tug him higher up.

He takes his time, kissing and nibbling your thighs, before he boldly presses a kiss to the apex of your legs, tongue briefly dragging through your folds. It elicits a shudder in its wake, and you can’t stifle a moan.

Making his way up, he licks your navel, and eventually traces the curve of your full breast, circling your hardened bud. Cregan laps up every drop of milk that oozes out of your bud like nothing else than a starved wolf, the edge of his teeth applying just a faint pressure to the sensitive skin to stimulate the flow.

But when his other hand comes up to fondle and squeeze your other breast, that’s the moment you lose your composure, shamelessly smothering him with your breasts. “Gods, Cregan…” you whimper, immediately bringing you relief. There isn’t even time to waste a thought about the indecency of it all, not when it feels just so right.

It’s your mewls, your whispered whines and moans, the sound of you saying his name in such a desperate manner that drives him to continue. “You make me ache for you,” he rasps against your skin, voice thick with desire. Your husband never falters to ignite a fire inside of you with his words, especially when there’s an innuendo hidden between his praises.

Bringing his hand from your breast down between your bodies, he aligns himself with you, dragging the tip of his cock through your folds in a way that makes you bite back a moan and grind against him. You grip his dark curls harshly as he finally eases inside, pushing into you inch by inch, agonizingly slow to make sure you feel him enter you.

His suckling falters with the tightness of your walls embracing him, overwhelmed by pure bliss and a feeling he’s missed for the past few weeks.

Every gasp and whine that escapes you only serves to embolden him further, continuing to tease and taste your breast with unrivaled enthusiasm. It juxtaposes the slow, sloppy thrusts of his hips, and brings you two different kinds of sensations at once.

Cregan has made himself home between your legs, rocking his hips leisurely back and forth. He has dropped his weight on one elbow and leant his upper body to the side, determined to not put any weight on your swollen bump. His lips are firmly wrapped around your bud while his hand teases the other, pinching and squeezing it between his fingers. The proximity is unmatchable, feeding into your constant desire to be as close to him as possible.

You can practically watch him lose every ounce of self control, his suckling becoming more intense and the thrusts growing in determination. His groans and grunts are muffled, and droplets of your milk trickle idly down his chin, getting lost in the dark, coarse hairs.

You fully expect him to say something when he releases your bud, but he’s far too eager to get his fill again. Pinching the perky bud of your other breast harshly, droplets of milk run down the curve of it, only to be traced by his tongue, liking a flat stripe over your skin. He chokes on a groan as the sight has you clenching tightly around his hard cock.

“Please– do not stop,” you whimper, applying a bit of pressure to his head to urge him towards your breast again. “... not yet.”

Dark-blown eyes suddenly flicker up to meet yours, and a shuddered breath leaves your lips. “My my, what a greedy wench I have for a wife,” he chuckles to himself. You don’t take offense, but the statement does make you duck your head and bite your bottom lip sheepishly. “I do not intend to.”

Despite the teasing, it’s obvious your pleas fall upon eager ears as he heeds your command and closes his lips around your bud again. Every hungry pull of his lips draws more and more milk from you, and while relief makes itself known in your breasts, a different kind of pressure starts to settle in the pit of your belly.

Squeezing him so well, you make it impossible for Cregan to move on his own accord, and quickly take over, rolling your hips against his. It’s a race for completion, making your pearl throb with anticipation.

The coarse hairs of your husband’s beard drag over your sensitive skin with his eager suckling, tickling you and causing you to arch against him even more. You have your arms wrapped around his neck at this point, keeping him tightly against you.

A string of yesses falls past your lips like a chant, and the pace of your hips increases as far as your bump allows you to. Your mind grows hazy with pleasure, until your peak washes over you with a loud gasp.

You haven’t noticed Cregan watching you through it all, too focused on the sensations coursing through your body. His gaze is mesmerized, clearly relishing in the relief that’s etched onto your features and the way your walls flutter around his cock.

He pulls back, droplets of milk resting in the corners of his lips, and lifts his body to tower over you. The thrusting of his hips grows sharper now, determined to help you through your pleasure.

“That’s it,” he rasps, one hand resting on the mattress next to your head while the other gropes at your now relieved breasts.

“Once this pup is born,” he emphasized the words by rolling your sore bud between his index finger and thumb, drawing out just a few more droplets of milk. “I shall put another in you to keep you round with my seed.”

Your head grows dizzy, lightheaded even, and you can’t do more than whimper and whine through your peak, not fully comprehending what he’s said.

Cregan snaps his hips into yours once, twice before he topples over the edge with a loud groan, his throbbing cock spending itself deep inside of you. Cupping your breast, his fingers dig harshly into your flesh.

You continue to roll your hips against his, prolonging his pleasure. Switching roles, it’s now your turn to milk him for every drop, taking everything his cock spills inside of you. Every muscle in his body tenses, until eventually, he collapses to the side, careful not to put his weight on your swollen bump.

With his cock slowly becoming flaccid again, the sensation of his seed leaking out of your cunt is more apparent, causing heat to spread throughout your body. If it wasn’t for you carrying his child already, you would have mounted him to make sure his seed would bear fruit.

Cregan eventually lies down on his back, and you seize the chance to rest your head on his chest. It’s hard to keep your eyes open as his hand softly entangles into your hair, scratching your scalp in the manner that usually lulls you to sleep. His breath is slower now, his chest rising and lowering your head.

“I can not bear to spend another night without you by my side,” you all but whisper, bringing a hand to his stomach.

Your finger trails the contours of his muscles, before following the dark trail of coarse hairs down.

“You needn‘t worry about that,” he says. “We shall not stay in King’s Landing for too long. And I highly doubt that anyone could get me out of your chambers during the time we stay there. Once we arrive, we shall stay together.”

Nodding your head slowly, you hum a ‘mh-mh‘, too engrossed in the feeling of his hand in your hair and the other rubbing soothing circles over your back. Having trouble staying awake, you’re hardly able to process his next words, already drifting off to sleep.

“Let us sleep now, my love. We have another tiresome day ahead of us.“

Cregan Taglist: @nats-whore @aemondsbabe

[coconutdays]

love line

s. on a very drunk night, satoru exposes your crush on the famous mma fighter, and friend of yours, toji zenin

w.c. 12.3k

w. fem! reader, mma!toji! x reader , fluff!, smut!

a/n: this might not be proofread well but I hope yall enjoy. im very in love with this man!

"I can't believe I lost that stock today!"

you're out having drinks with your friends at a fancy bar in shibuya when satoru gets shitfaced drunk. the matter is nothing new. he's the lightweight of the group and doesn't care about getting home most of the time because he knows either you or suguru will take charge and take him home.

you're taking frequent sips of your whiskey as you watch one of the country's most successful business owners mope over a small, so very minuscule, fraction of his wealth fly by. suguru is sitting next to you at the booth and exchanges a look of 'idiot' in reference to the white haired man's sad life story. sukuna is in front of you and no look needs to be exchanged because he simply acts on his thoughts and gives satoru a smack on the back of his head.

and toji's at the center of the booth, smooshed between shoko and satoru. he's looking at satoru in mild amusement, a small smirk on his face at the fool's stupidity as he too drinks from a glass of whiskey. he's wearing a low scooped black long sleeve that probably costs a thousand dollars and rightfully so, it makes him look so handsome. the price nothing compared to the pay he makes as a world champion mma fighter. 

you've known him for the better part of a year, a bit more actually. satoru met him near the end of your college career on a business whim with his father and has since made him a member of your friend group. you're not as close as you wish you could be, the immense nerves you have in fear of him even getting an inkling that you're attracted to him have always stopped you from initiating a more than necessary amount of text conversations or random phone calls. satoru could do that, you couldn't. god, you've even seen suguru have more dms with the raven haired fighter than you. even in the group chat all of you share, you can't bring yourself to connect with him aside from teaming up to tease satoru or sukuna. 

the last thing you ever conversed with him on your phone was a conversation you, surprisingly, started. he had told you about this one taco place and said you would love it based on your shared interest of food. when you told him you'd try it, he had told you, 'better send me a picture when you're there.' and you did. he had sent a laughing emoji when he asked if you liked the food and you said, 'I'd step on lime juice covered shards of glass to eat this again.'

that was the last thing you'd see in your messages between each other. 

he was close to four years older than all of you, except for sukuna, they were only a year apart. he had this endearing scar across his lip that curved so achingly whenever he smiled or grinned. he was built gorgeously, his back a sight to behold whenever you got to see him fight. and his eyes, fuck, the bright mix between grey and green always had you throwing a fit in your bed and wishing you could have him. 

nevertheless, you go back to paying attention to satoru. 

"you profit from so many other stocks satoru. that one stock is just a random occurrence."

"but the ladies won't want to go out with a guy who loses even one stock!" he looks up from where he's sprawled across the table, pouting at you.

"the fact that you're a millionaire at the age of 23 already gets enough ladies." you roll your eyes, unable to help the twitch of your lips at the sight of a little bit of drool seeping from the corner of his mouth

"it's not enough." he mutters

this time, you and sukuna share a deadpan face and you flick satoru's forehead, leaning only slightly across the table.

"yeah you're right. satoru gojo is such a loser for losing a stock, none of the girls are gonna want him now."

out of the corner of your eye, you see toji huff a little laugh at your antics, it makes your heart skip a beat a little that he finds you, even if its mostly satoru, funny.

"don't mock me!" satoru's cheeks are red as he scowls at you the best he can.

"she's not mocking." sukuna snorts, taking a swig of his beer.

"yea she is!" satoru points at you, "I never mock you about toji!"

everybody in the group stills except for satoru, who looks like he's still revved up about the subject.

much like cassie's reaction in euphoria when rue asked her how long she had been fucking nate, all you could do was nervously laugh.

"what–what are you talking about?"

you can feel your entire body starting to shake in fear. it was like you were in elementary again and some mean friend of yours was going to expose your crush on the popular boy of your grade. the fear was something you never thought you'd experience again.

"don't act stupidddd." satoru drags on, as if toji fucking zenin wasn't right next to him, "you're always talking about how bad you want toji and that ' I wish I could talk to him' bullcrap!" he says the last part in imitation of you with a high pitched voice.

suguru is staring at satoru in terror. sukuna is looking at you, in peril for you. shoko looks like she mentally checked out so she couldn't feel your embarrassment.

...and toji is staring at you, his eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, like he doesn't know what to say.

your phone is in your pocket. check. your purse is on your lap. check. satoru can pay for your tab when he comes to his senses. check.

all you can do is abruptly get up and start to dash away, ignoring the yell for you from suguru. you don't look back, pure peril and adrenaline taking over your body as you make it out of the bar as quickly as possible, thanking whatever god that you chose to wear the easiest pair of heels to walk today.

the metro, the metro, the metro.

you look around for a quick second, only taking a second to remember what way the metro was before you rush in its direction. you feel a buzz coming from your pocket when you do, and you can only figure its one of your friends, trying to get you to come back.

you ignore it and rush down the escalator to the metro, making a glance behind you and noting that nobody was behind you. thank god. however, it doesn't stop your pace and your heels click and clack you all the way to a seat on the train to your part of town. 

fuck.

your entire body feels like its on fire and melting. 

toji knows you like him.

fuck.

suguru 5 missed calls

shoko girl where did you go?

sukuna 1 missed call dude, since when do you run track

you have to stop yourself from bashing your head on the pole in front of you. shakily, you press on suguru's contact to call him. you would tell him you were going to home so he wouldn't need to worry. what's the worst that could happen by now anyway. 

"y/n? hello?"

"I'm on the train home." you breathe

"that fast?" he doesn't exclaim, he's not the type to show his surprise so blatantly like his counterpart but you can hear his concern at the fact.

"yeah." you murmur, stomach churning now that the adrenaline's worn off.

suguru sighs, "satoru is scared you're going to kill him now."

and you can hear his wails in the background. 'no she's going to come after me!' 'I need to up my security!' 'is that her on the phone?! y/n pleasseee forgive me!'

your nose scrunches in annoyance and you blurt, "I'm not going to kill you stupid idiot!"

"she says she's not going to kill you." suguru says to satoru and you can hear what you presuppose is suguru pushing the drunk fiend off of him before he continues talking to you, "about toji–"

you feel your stomach drop at the mention of the name, he's still there with them, fully aware of your feelings for him

"ah! don't wanna hear it!"

the beginning of a call to your name from suguru went ignored as you immediately pulled your phone back and pressed the little red button.

the sky had literally fallen for you and now you had to deal with the aftermath—which you weren’t doing right this second, due to what you just did to your friends, but you’d do it eventually. being an adult made sure you had to face it sometime soon. its just that toji zenin learning from satoru gojo that you had a massive crush on him had not ever been something you expected. hell you never expected him to find out in any sort of way, ever. god, he was never supposed to know.

well, your fun was over, you had to move on now. if you wanted your friend group to stay normal and go back to the way it was, the looming existence of your feelings for the world renowned fighter had to die. you could tough it through that, you could come back and say ‘i thought it over and don’t have feelings for you anymore toji so don’t worry about acting weird with me. we’re casual friends like we’ve always been.’

a particular rattle of the train had you planting your feet on the floor purposefully and waiting for it to fully stop before you got up. you were five minutes from your apartment now, the walk you started now would pass by in a flash and you’d get to wallow in your misery soon.

ordering takeout sounded nice and so did watching your favorite show, especially after a warm shower, it had been quite chilly tonight. 

you had no room to really think about your predisposition in regards to toji zenin the next day, having to attend work then go to a work party afterwards at some high end restaurant/bar located at the top floor of a skyscraper overlooking tokyo. at work, you had to host various meetings and delegate new responsibilities you planned out the day before to your peers. it was all very hectic since it was all a completely new project. you had barely looked at your phone and even if you did, there wouldn’t be much to fret over, your friends had busy lives too. and right after, you had to head straight home and get ready for the party later that evening. 

you were sporting a tight black dress with light red flowers embellished across it later that night while you drank champagne and conversed with your coworkers. it had been a decent night so far and you had photos taken of you along with your peers, they’d probably be posted on the company website or social media. 

there had been some interesting work tea to listen in on too, your rival company was involved in it too and you were smushed against your coworkers in a red leather lined booth with dim lighting to listen in on all of it. it was more than worthy of your time by the end of it, you deemed. you would have to tell shoko and sukuna about it whenever you got the chance next time. yes, sukuna liked tea, he was an ass who loved hearing about ass things happening. 

the craving for a new glass of champagne sent you to the bar the moment the story ended, so you sat up on one of the chairs lining it while you waited for the bartender to get to you. you could see your ceo already getting shit-faced from where you were and it was funny, she always did that and always managed to get embarrassed the next time everyone saw her in the office. 

“are you part of that office party?”

a large and handsome figure suddenly appeared before you, blocking the view of your boss. he was wearing a rather expensive looking black suit with a silky blue dress shirt under, all of which couldn’t hide the obvious hard and sturdy muscles under them due to the complimentary tailoring. when you took in his face, you had to hold back the urge to widen your eyes. he was excessively good looking, with sharp and devilish features sketched across his face, intertwining hand in hand with his semi-long brown wavy hair pushed back and away from his face, save for a singular pretty strand falling near his brow and down his cheek. and that scar near his eye, it seemed so familiar…

you had to blink yourself back into reality when you realized you were taking a bit too long to answer his question. 

“yes,” you finally responded, trying your best to remain neutral and politely smile at him

he leaned against the open spot of the bar table between your seat and the empty one behind him, one hand in his pocket as he smiled down at you, “you’re very beautiful.”

your spit got caught in your throat at the blatant admission, this time unable to hide the way your head reeled back a little and started sporting a rising heat on your cheeks in slight shock, “oh–i–thank you.”

his smile grew wider at your flustered state and he reached a hand out for you to shake, “aizen sosuke.”

so at to remain polite, you shook his hand and repeated your name back to him in return for his, but in reality your head was falling in on itself

him.

fuck.

that’s aizen sosuke, the other world renowned mma fighter that you were very aware of due to his competitive nature and rivalry with toji. as far as you were aware, toji absolutely hated him, and you were sure aizen did too. anytime the rivalry came up into the conversation you saw toji’s eyes darken and his posture straighten in seething hate for the man. if satoru felt like getting on his nerves, as he did with everyone, he always knew to mention the tall brunette to get a visceral reaction out of him. it was bad. wait–

they have a fight tomorrow.

oh god, this was all types of fucked up. you've been pining after toji this whole year and he just found out yesterday and now you're talking to his rival who's very obviously flirting with you.

...but he was aizen sosuke, aside from that, and he just called you beautiful.

“is there any particular celebration happening?” he tilted his head to the side a little in curiosity 

“no, not this time,” you breathed, trying to shake the nerves off, “my boss just likes to treat us frequently and…well herself.”

“is that the only occasion where you get treated as of late?”

suave

and you can’t help the small knowing smile starting to creep up your lips, “as of late, yes, although she mostly does it in drinks.”

“dinner isn’t often?” he leans a little closer, his lips quirking up a little

“no,” you shake your head, aware of the way your eyes are smiling back at him too.

“allow me to treat you then,” he says confidently, watching as the bartender slides you your champagne

“In exchange for…?” you quirk a brow up at him as you take a sip

“what are you willing to give?” he bites back with a canine smile, still looming over you and infringing himself a little into your space even.

“nothing.” you snark back smoothly, pressing a finger into the middle expanse of his chest. he’s really sturdy, you note before continuing, “dinner with me should be a prize enough.”

he laughs at your response handsomely, reeling away from your space in accordance with the finger of yours pushing him away, “i’ll pay for everything. hell, send me the receipt for your outfit if you feel like it. i’m sure some sort of gratitude will overcome you.”

“ravenous,” you tut your glass in his direction, “i’ll politely decline then mr sosuke.”

“you haven’t even allowed yourself to grace over the thought of spending a night in my sheets,” he’s leaned down to speak so sensually next to your ear, “if your line of work is a stress, i can make you forget all about it.”

“i’ve allowed myself to grace it,” you speak back lowly, matching his game, “and i can only see you adding onto my stress by the end of it.”

“you’re oddly confident about that,” he smiles deviously, turning his head so that you’re face to face with him, “i aim to please, if any.”

“to please?” you question in haughty disbelief, squinting your eyes playfully at him

“to please,” he’s still smiling, eyes fleeting to your lips for a second, “i could relay the details if you’d like.”

“that’s unecessary,” you laugh at his boldness, turning your head away from his, “but it’s not something i’m interested in. im only looking for stability right now.”

“how unfortunate for the both of us tonight then,” he retreats back into his space before reaching into his pocket and taking out his phone, then splaying it out in his hand for you to take, “at least leave me your number. i can be capable of stability for the right woman.”

you feel your phone buzzing erratically that night, when you’ve washed away the night’s events and lay comfortably in your bed with a glass of water cradled to you. upon first looking at your messages, you were greeted by a paparazzi picture of you, courtesy screenshot from gojo, and aizen speaking at the bar. it was one of you smiling and looking up and him while he was leaning down, face inches away from yours as he returned your toothy grin.

satoru img_736 ?????? is that aizen sosuke?! dude are you fucking him rn

sukuna  take one of his trophy belts when you come back home

shoko lol he looks hot in blue

suguru  satoru, aren’t you supposed to be on your flight back from dubai right now?

satoru first class has excellent cell service ha and y/n hasn’t answered aizen def has his hands busy rn

shoko it’s only been five minutes since you sent that picture plus she’s at her work party, i think. she probably just met him there

satoru who cares bud looks like he’s ready to pounce 

sukuna heard he likes bdsm shit

satoru send pics of his paddle lol y/n

suguru both of you are despicable

shoko let us know if he has good stamina

suguru the three of you

all those messages had been sent ten minutes ago and you gaped at your friends’ mischief

y/n  I AM NOT WARMING AIZEN SOSUKE’S BED RN!

satoru liar, he’s in your mouth rn isn’t he

y/n  literally shut up toru i’m in my bed. no aizen near

sukuna  sure you are you looked real horned up smiling at him in the pics

y/n LMAO  he was a little funny ok, i couldn’t help laughing

shoko oh he was funny hm

suguru  actually worried a little at that statement wdym he was a little funny

y/n im going to crucify all of you he tried getting me to warm his bed and was very smooth abt it, but i said no gave him my number though :p since he asked for it

satoru was that before or after he told you you have great boobs img_737 could not have been more obvious about it

the stupid texts from your friend had you laughing out loud and setting down your glass of water on your bedside table before you pressed on the microphone button and sent a loud, giggly voice message for emphasis of your previous point.

“I didn’t fuck aizen! and he didn’t need to tell me i have great boobs, i saw him staring at them the entire time.”

sukuna you are not living this down if we see hickeys on you tomorrow

satoru what he said ^^

and there came the realization, 

toji and aizen’s fight was tomorrow

and all of you always showed up to toji’s fights ever since you befriended him

hell, fuck, you hadn’t even remembered he was in this group chat too. fuck fuck fuck. was this good? was this bad? he hadn’t said anything and he never really took too long to answer sometimes. no, this was the night before a fight, he’s probably already knocked out right now considering the late hour. but still, what of when he woke up to the messages tomorrow? would this help ease the knowledge of your being into him? oh she’s already flirting with some guy she’s not into me as much as a i thought so i dont feel as awkward around her anymore. but what if he thought you were doing this purposefully to get a reaction out of him and that you were so obsessed with him, you did it for that sole reason. you didn’t even want to come to the fight anymore. could you get out of it somehow? no, stupid satoru knows you’re free tomorrow and that would add more drama to your ‘up and dash’ incident from the bar yesterday night. 

you turned around and flailed on your bed, screaming into your pillow in the process.

regrettably, you show up to toji’s fight the following afternoon, trying your best to suppress the notion that aside from having to be near toji later, that aizen was going to see you too, and that whole ordeal would be something different entirely for you to deal with.

you dressed pretty well, you always did, but you added a little more effort than the usual when picking your outfit for the day. it was ufc fight night worthy and showed a generous amount of skin, the pictures you would upload later that night to instagram would be amazing. 

sukuna snickered when he saw you, pulling you in for a quick friendly hug as he said, “wanted zenin to see that you really didn’t fuck sosuke?”

you gaped at him and held back a smile as you smacked him with your purse, “i will hurt you ‘kuna.”

“try me, idiot,” he bites back with a snarky smile before sinking into one of the cage-side seats toji always managed to get for you guys. you had already said hi to the rest of your friends before getting to him and all felt normal until that dumbass made his dumb comment about your crush on toji. satoru, had of course, without a doubt, inspected you for hickeys and love bites immediately upon your arrival and had given you a suspicious look, as if to say, ‘you got away with it this time.’ he was always ridiculous like that, trying to cling onto random drama, even if he gaslit himself, all for his own fun. 

“i really did not expect to meet him last night at the bar,” you sighed after you sat down, taking in the bustling crowds of people gathering in the arena with him

“fuckin hilarous,” he all but barks evilly in amusement at your predicament before taking a swig of his beer, “paparazzi is gonna have a field day thinking you’re aizen’s girl now that you’re here.”

“WAIT!” 

you immediately sit upright at the realization and turn your body towards sukuna, jaw hung open and eyes wide in panic.

“holy shit. what the fuck.” you start having an existensial crisis and sukuna, the great friend he is starts snickering at your dilemma, finding humor in your panicked expression

“go sit near his side of the arena,” he jeers, “there’s some open seats.”

you run your hands down your face, stressed, “i thought the worst i had to deal with would be aizen seeing me here.”

“still is,” sukuna is still smirking at you evilly, “everything is shit about your day today.”

and then the lights dim and sporadic blue lights start sparkling across the arena

“get ready to say hi to your boyfriends,” sukuna teases with a canine grin before leaning over to see who would do their walkout first.

and it’s toji first.

he’s so beautiful and rugged, wearing skin tight black shorts that highlight every muscle underneath them and his eyes are glowing so pretty against the fluroscents, even if he has a murderous look on them right now. his staff are behind him as he walks through the arena, and looking at them almost distracts you from the way toji holds you in a cutthroat stare the moment he spots you, and only you.

you can hear satoru’s sly voice saying from near you, “nice.”

too scared to look away from toji, you can only speak to your friends without turning to address them, “why is toji giving me a death stare?”

“cause you fucked aizen,” satoru’s teasing lilt jeers

“yeah,” shoko agrees

“i did not fuck aizen,” you bite through gritted teeth as toji walks into the fighting cage, eyes still on you.

“tell that to him,” sukuna snickers

“don’t think about it too much,” suguru tries to comfort

then the lights starts blaring furiously again and aizen’s presence is announced throughout the entire arena. and you were really right about that suit being unable to hide those muscles, because without any clothing over them…they were enormous and mouth-watering.

all of you watch as he, accompanied by his staff too, walks to the cage, handsome smirk planted on his face. 

“would you look at that,” satoru starts, “he doesn’t have your scratch marks all over his back.”

“ha ha,” you sarcastically mutter back when aizen enters the cage and he situates himself in his side, taking in his surroundings, like those sitting in the cage side seats.

like you.

you know he’s spotted you because of the way his eyebrows raise in surprise and the wolfish smile that starts forming on his face the moment you make eye contact. and you know toji’s noticed too because of the way he turns to you too and keeps looking between you and the fighter in front of him.

satoru whistles while sukuna howls, both leaning down to elbow you from either side much to your annoyance

“scratch the paparazzi thinking youre here for aizen being the worst thing capable of happening today,” satoru sighs haughtily, “if toji loses, you’re in for it.”

you spin your head to him, panicked, “what?! is he gonna stop being my friend?!”

satoru shrugs, nonchalant, “don’t know, just keep watching sweetheart.”

so you did and it was unnerving.

when the fight started and toji and aizen started squaring up against each other, you could see aizen start speaking to him. his mouth was moving a little and a smile crept up on it when he jeered his chin in your direction, all of which you saw toji answer back with what looked like single word short answers and a sneer on his face.

“wonder what they’re talking about,” suguru questioned softly

“i have a small idea,” satoru said under his breath before toji threw the first punch and the chaos ensued.

the fight consisted of a lot of hisses and ows coming from everyone, including you, in the arena. toji and aizen were really putting in the work to beat the crap out of each other. ten minutes had passed and toji was already bleeding from his mouth and aizen had blood falling down his nose. both of their bodies were beat too, red splotches blossoming all over them as a reaction to the various kicks and punches both of them sent to each other. 

however it looked like it was reaching its cusp when aizen got toji in a headlock and muttered something while looking at you. 

which must have given toji enough energy to quickly peel himself off and knock his face in a couple of times. and when aizen stood up straight after it to counter, he was bleeding profusely from his mouth and smiled so devilshly at you before wandering into toji’s space again. 

“hot,” shoko commented while gnawing on a toothpick

and that continued, the smiles at you from him, with his questionably hot bleeding mouth while he sported a beating from toji or gave it to him. but it started dying down when toji actually started knocking him in so close to his own victory. and there wasn’t much aizen could do until toji pinned him down and forced him into submission,

all while aizen stared at you and even had the gall to wink while his loss was announced

satoru whistled again, “the balls on this guy. surprised you aren’t soaked right now.”

people were starting to filter out when the winner and loser were officially announced and were beginning to get escorted back to their locker rooms.

“come on,” sukuna muttered as he drank the last of his beer and got up with the rest of you to go to toji’s room.

when all of you are rushed into toji’s locker room, you somehow wound up standing next to him, where he’s seated on a bench and wiping the blood off his face with a hand towel.

“congrats,” you mumble, along with the others

“what’d he say to you during the fight,” leered satoru, both of his hands in his pockets and his shades over his eyes again now that he doesn’t have to watch the fight.

“none of your business,” muttered toji after wiping his face again, “where’s my fucking water?”

“here sir, here,” one of his goonies said while weaving through the people in the room and nervously handing him a water bottle

“thanks,” he huffs with a small glare before opening the bottle and starting to chug from it

“who do you fight after this,” sukuna asks

toji shrugs and looks towards his manager, who then starts to explain the next sequence of events after this win. and it lasts for thirty minutes before everyone falls quiet and toji gets up abruptly

“alright, get out. ‘m gonna change,” he all but demands for everyone to leave ominously

and you listen to his words, letting the half closest to the door start to filter out before you make to move your feet and suddenly toji’s holding onto your arm.

“where do you think you’re going?” he huffs when the last person leaves the room and the door clicks shut

you feel like a deer caught in headlights and feel yourself start to grow nervous, “outside…to let you change?”

“you gonna fuck him?”

and you gaslight yourself into pretending you don’t know what he’s talking about, “who?”

he deadpans at you with bored and almost annoyed green eyes and you have to look away from him when you murmur, “no…i don’t know. listen, me having a thing for you isn’t that serious and if i entertain aizen it isn’t so you can finally notice me or something, i just–”

“when the fuck did i say i never noticed you before?”

your eyes widen and you didn’t know what to say

“what? you think it’s so easy for me to try and talk to your dumbass too?” he pulls you closer by the arm he’s already holding, scowl etched across his face

“what,” is the only thing you can get out in your nerves

toji glares at you, “when silver spoon said you wish you could talk to me, did it ever cross your smartass that i don’t know how to talk to you either?”

“no,” you let out meekly, struggling to make eye contact with him and feeling your heart rate go up by a million beats per minute

“so,” toji tugs on your arm again, “are you gonna fuck him?”

you look away to a locker near when you mumble, “do you not want me to?”

“no, i fucking don’t.”

“then i won’t.”

“great,” he lets go of you and now centers himself to stand in front of you, quirking a brow up when he asks, “you gonna let me take you out on a date?”

you have to fight the urge to fiddle with your hands as you look back up at him, “when?”

“tonight.”

“shouldn’t you rest after a fight!?” your eyes almost bulge out of their sockets, pupils darting to the blood staining his lips

“not if i don’t feel like it,” he shrugs, before gaining a threatening aura, “or do you wanna bite the bullet and get lunch right now? you won’t have time to get a pretty dress on.”

panicked at his suggestion, you mindlessly put your hands against his chest and plead, “no! tonight is fine, tonight is fine!”

“thought so,” he huffs back at you, corners of his mouth quirking up a little 

and put on a pretty dress you did, a red sultry one that teetered between innocence and sex. it had toji staring you down as you took the unfathombly large bouquet of flowers he brought for you from his arms and set it on your kitchen island.

“where are we going?” you turned to look at him while he drove you to whatever destination he had in mind for tonight, playing with the metal clasp of your handbag

toji had been leaned against the driver side door of his car, with one hand holding onto his chin while the other steered, he seemed oddly pensive.

“allen’s,” he gruffly swallowed before straightening up and putting both of his hands on the steering wheel. you weren’t surprised by the mention of the michelin star restaurant, he could afford it and had the status for it anyways

so you couldn’t help but speak, “are you nervous?”

his entire body tensed visibly and his eyes slightly widened, glancing at you for a half second before looking back at the road and relaxing, “what do you think smartass?”

a smile crept its way onto your face, “well i am too.”

“you gonna run away again?” he side eyed you with a slight gleam of mischief

your face flushed and your mouth gaped, turning to look at the road too now instead of at him, crossing your arms as you huffed, “what else was i supposed to do? not like you had anything to say either, had your mouth open like a fish when i got exposed…”

“least i didn’t run,” he huffed back

“well you didnt try to contact me after,” you sasssed, sensing his growing irritation

“you’re a real pain in my ass,” he glared at you, “you know that right?”

“and you’re not acting like the guy who just won a fight earlier today.”

toji had just parked outside the restaurant and splayed his hands across the steering wheel, trying to control his breathing from what you could tell. 

“i didn’t know what to say, okay negative nancy?” he finally turned to you, green eyes striking under the night sky and neon lights from the restaurant name shining through, “and then when i was going to call your pretty ass the next day, i saw the pictures of fuck face raw dogging you at the bar.”

“he didn’t fuck me,” you whined in complaint as you splayed yourself across the center console of his car and batted your scorned eyes at him, “how many times do i have to tell you guys?”

“well you were real close to,” he smirked at you before something serious fell across his features and his eyes darted to your handbag, “matter a fact, block his number right now.”

your head perked up at the demand and you blinked at him, “i dont have his number.”

toji squinted his eyes at you, “you said you gave him your number in the group chat.”

“yeah but he hasn’t called me or anything, so i never got his.”

the ravenette rolled his eyes, taking his keys out of the ignition and pointing at you with them, “when he does, you better fucking block him.”

“i will,” you nod obediently, watching as he starts to get out of the car

you move to take off your seat belt and he leans back into the vehicle with a warning look, “i’ll unbuckle it, don’t move.”

and he does, closing the door of his side before walking over to you and opening the door to kneel in and take off your seat belt, then giving you a helping hand to get out.

“thank you,” you murmur appreciatively as you watch your step before landing a quick kiss to his cheek. and if it affected him, you wouldn’t know, he said nothing and held onto your arm softly while he guided the both of you to the restaurant entrance.

“you look hot by the way,” he breathed out before opening the door and entering with you, giving you no chance to respond when the hostess immediately greeted the both of you and began to lead you to a table.

it was intimate, the table. it was small and dainty, relatively little space would be between you and the gruff fighter. and both of your seats were at the same corner of the table, making the distance shorter than it would have been sitting across from each other. 

toji instinctively pulled out your chair for you and muttered out a sound of acknowledgement when you thanked him as he sat down. 

“you gonna drink?” he quirked a brow at you, gesturing towards the menu of alcohol planted right in front of the both of you

“a little red wine sounds nice,” you try to say politely, “you?”

“nah,” he responds while raising a hand for a waiter to come by, “i need to drive you home. you like sweet or bitter wine?”

“sweet.”

and so he orders a wine for you to drink right off the bat, saying a thank you as the waiter walks away to get the bottle.

“does your mouth hurt?”

toji hums mindlessly, as if his head had been somewhere else before he perks up again and says, “come again sweetheart?”

the pet name had you a little fluststered in speaking again, feeling your body grow hot as you gestured to his mouth meekly, “your mouth, it was bleeding after the fight, does it still hurt?”

the corners of his mouth start to rise as he encroaches into your space, eyes lusty, “nothing a little kiss won’t make better.” 

your breath hitches and you feel like pushing him away to hide how easily he’s affected you, “you’re shameless.”

toji is inches away from your face now, and he tilts his head in fake hurt, “i took those punches from the lowlife trying to steal my girl away, doesn’t that mean i deserve a reward?”

you try to keep your face serious as you deadpan, willing your need to laugh away as best you can, “your girl?”

“my girl,” toji grins sleazily 

you’re about to bite back when the waiter comes back with the bottle of wine toji ordered for you and the menus for tonight’s dinner. toji takes the bottle from the waiter and insists on serving you your glass himself while you begin to look at the menu. choosing a meal was difficult with all the delicious options available, every description making your mouth water, you wanted everything. when you complained to toji about not knowing what to get because of all the options, he brushed you off while still reading his menu.

“get whatever you want, we can come again and again until you try everything.”

well that’s one way to make you horny

so you settled for these sauteed calamari rings with a savory sounding sauce while toji got a steak under the pretense that ‘i need to stock up on protein after fights.’

while the both of you eat, good conversation comes up and the previous tense awkwardness of the both of you goes away.

“i haven’t dated anyone since my sophomore year of college,” you say while taking a sip of wine to wash down a bite of calamari

toji quirks up a brow in disbelief at your statement while he takes a sip of his water, a scowl almost, as if he’s offended for you, “what about that emo lookin kid—“

you tilt your head in confusion, not being able to pinpoint who he’s talking about, “emo?”

toji rolls his eyes, snapping his fingers at himself, “that kid, can’t even remember his name, with the blue hair, you know–“

“grimmjow?!” you gape, eyebrows knit

“yea that fucker,” toji nods before he takes a bite of his steak

“I never even got to have a thing with grimmjow,” you deadpan, swiveling the glass of wine in your hand, “we kissed like once and then he told me he wasn’t ready for anything the next day.”

“silver spoon made it seem like you guys fucked.”

you sigh in agonizing pain that your white haired freak best friend loves to say you fuck frequently, “satoru says that because he feels my dry spell more than me. horny ass. he wishes i could get laid.”

“what,” toji snickers, “haven’t fucked in a year or something?”

this was going to be a pain

“three years,” you clarify, staring at him with bored eyes because you know you’re going to get a reaction because of this, “with my ex was the last time. and i lost it to him.”

toji eyebrows immediately raise and he looks at you like you’re insane, “you’re lying.”

“don’t you think id rather say i just got laid two weeks ago or something?” you quizically ask him

“well yeah,” he scoffs, “but i'd rather you not at that point.”

you knowingly squint your eyes at him, jabbing a fork of calamari, “why’s that?”

and you laugh when toji drops his napkin back onto his lap very done with you and blankly stares you down.

“how long have you liked me anyway,” you continue, hoping and praying on the small chance that toji pined for you as much you did for him so that you didn’t feel as pathetic

he stays quiet for a bit, as if he didn’t hear you, and you feel embarrassed that you’re about to repeat himself until he looks up from his meal and says, “ever since business boy posted a picture of you before i got the chance to meet all of you.”

hoping and praying did you well

you had to physically stop yourself from giggling like a schoolgirl by holding your hands in fists under the table, “and..why did you never make a move?”

“i thought you had a crush on sukuna for a good four months,” he shrugged and if you were seeing right, there was a pink hue dusting the tips of his ears, “after i figured out you didn’t, i pussied out because i didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

then his eyes fixated on you, “what about you huh?”

you felt yourself growing small in your seat, beginning to play with the ends of your dress, “well, when we met and you told lent me your jacket because my cardigan was thin…”

“both of us have been idiots this entire year huh,” toji joked, laughing at himself and you

“yeah,” you meekly agreed, taking a woeful gulp of wine until you came to a realization, “wait, is that why sukuna thought you didn’t like him for the first few months of knowing him?!”

“i have no idea what you’re talking about,” the fighter grunted, looking to the side as he drank another gulp of water

by the time your date with toji ended you were as happy as could be, having felt fulfilled that yes you were on a date with your long time crush, but that you were also very compatible and had amazing chemistry. you kissed briefly, outside the restaurant when your heel got caught on a pebble and he held you upright so as to stop you from falling. you pulled him in for it to thank him and he held onto your waist so fucking well, the fact that his hand was almost the same size as your back was dizzying. 

he had asked for another date the following afternoon for brunch with him and you couldn’t deny, wanting to spend more time with him. you were telling satoru this on the phone before he said…

“so when are you guys getting it on?”

if you could, you’d throw something at him through the phone right now.

“you are such a pervert!”

“i am not,” satoru defends, “okay maybe a little, ha. but in all honesty when are you two going to rip off the bandaid? it’s not like you’re strangers and you have to do that awkward period of oh im respecting your space crap. oh my god, does he know you’ve never gotten head?”

your cheeks flush hot, “no.”

“this is hilarious,” satoru jeers, “try to last longer than two seconds when he eats it.”

you sprawl across your bed and almost scream, “stop, because im going to be really embarrassed if that happens!”

“i think it’d be a miracle if it didn’t happen,” you can hear the millionaire open another candy wrapper before stuffing the sweet into his mouth, “so when are you sealing the deal?”

“when even is the appropriate time?” you gaze at your ceiling, feeling hot all over your body and embarrassed that you’re talking to your friend about having sex with one of your other friends

“personally, i think he would’ve done it by tonight already.”

“you think?”

“he looks at your boobs when you aren’t looking.”

“what?! why didnt you tell me this before?” you sit upright in your bed

“him wanting to fuck you is obvious, i just didn’t know if he liked you, so i kept it to myself.”

“unfair,” you huff, falling back into your comforter, staring at the ceiling in silence until you felt your phone beginning to vibrate

pending call - toji

“toru, ill catch up with you some other time, toji’s calling me,” you usher out and immediately accept the incoming call before the snow haired devil can say something cheesy.

“hi,” you breathe out

“hey,” toji’s gruff voice responds through the small speaker, “how are you feelin?”

“about the food or you?” you tease

“both.”

“wish i could’ve eaten some of that peach cobbler the couple next to us ordered,” you fluff up a pillow behind you, wondering if you should go forward with a thought before you think fuck it, and say, “wish i could’ve kissed you more.”

“i can get you both angel.”

“what are you doing?”

“just put some patches on my back, ‘s sore,” theres a moment of silence before he quips, “was thinking about you.”

“me too,” you sigh, hoping he can’t hear how dreamy you unintentionally sounded

“what about me?” you can hear the smirk in his voice

and you indulge him a little, just to fuck with him, “how big your hands are.”

“you like ‘em?”

“mhm, they looked nice with the bruises on them too.”

“ ‘s that why you kept holding onto them?”

“maybe,” you watch as you kick your feet up in the air, finding something to exert your energy 

“yours are soft,” he breathes, “i like it.”

“you know what else is soft?”

“what?” you can hear his energy shift

“my hair, i use really good conditioner and product.”

“fuckin tease.”

you turned around in your bed to hold your head in one of your hands, “what ever do you mean by that toji?”

“you always pull shit like this and you know it. you made me think i forgot your birthday last week.”

you laugh at his offense, noting that you did get a good scare out of him last week when you pretended he said your birthday wrong, “okay that was a one time thing though.”

“and then you told me the chinese restaurant i sent you to had shitty lomein.”

he had recommened the restaurant to you last month based on the premise that the lomein was good as hell and that you’d like it. you didn’t think he’d fall for it, but you told him it was crap just to fuck with him and he couldn’t function for a minute. 

“okay okay maybe i do pull shit like that every once in a while,” you digress

“every once in a while…” the scowl on toji’s face is quite loud when he responds

“every once in a while,” you punctuate with a sing songy voice

after your brunch date with toji the following day, he took you vase shopping because when he showed up at your place to pick you up he had another very large bouquet of flowers in his hands for you. and unfortunately, you couldn’t even fit all the flowers from the night before into the three vases you had. 

he took you to a high end home furniture store that you were pretty sure millionaires only shopped in, your theory being proven when a rug you passed by was the exact same one satoru kept in his apartment and shamelessly replaced when shoko got red wine on it. 

“woah,” you say when you get to the vase section, “this is way different than the ones at ikea.”

“see anything you like?” toji moves to stand next to you while you take in the vast number of beautiful vases in front of you

and at first you think you have nothing to say, unable to pick from all the beauties in splayed out for you, until your eyes spot a pretty almost seashell shaped vase, with defining ridges, colored gold, it was beautiful and you wouldn’t mind a number of those decorating your apartment. 

“i like this one,” you murmur as you walk up to it, noticing the slight iridescent shimmers on it

you can see toji raise his hand and make some sort of mannerism towards someone, you assume a worker, out of the corner of your eye after you say that. 

which led to the predicament of accompanying toji into your apartment numerous times as he carried the multiple boxes carrying the same vase into your apartment. you weren’t allowed to, he had demanded. he even eyed you threatningly when you made to pick up your own box to take with him. 

by the time he had brought in the last box you were very antsy, trying to find something to do in return for him like offer a water or food, or what fucking ever, just anything in exchange for his buying you multiple luxury vases and carrying them into your apartment. 

“i did that shit because i like you and i think you deserve it,” toji huffed, eyeing you pointedly while he accepted the glass of water you had offered him, “don’t get all weird.”

“okay…” you nervously looked to the side as you traced invisible lines across your kitchen island, “at least sit for a while before we have to unpack them and put the flowers in them. please?”

the tall and buff fighter let your small and nimble hands drag him to your couch by the arm and then guide him to sit on it, with you following after.

“I was watching grey’s anatomy before you came over,” you start, looking at him earnestly, “do you wanna watch some with me?”

toji set the glass of water on your coffee table then splayed his arm behind you on the couch and nodded, “go for it.”

“okay,” you smiled lightly then, much to his obvious surprise, crawled over him and reached for the remote next to him, tucked into the corner of the couch just a little, then went back to your original spot next to him.

your eyes were focused on opening netflix when he spoke, “is that the uh–the show with the doctors and crap?”

you pressed play when you set the remote off to the side and leaned more into his space, “yeah! it’s a little cheesy, but it’s fun to watch, at least before a certain season. after that it just goes downhill.”

“alright,” the ravenette said, leaning closer to your space too

“glow in the dark,” toji exhales a light laugh at the mention of glow in the dark condoms

“ever tried those?” you look up at him from where you’re tucked underneath his arm, hand splayed across his chest and abdomen area

“never knew they were a thing,” he smirks, “you?”

“i don’t even know what head’s like,” you roll your eyes, “as if i would’ve gotten to the exploration stage of fucking.”

you can see toji visibly stiffen at your comment

“what?”

“there’s no way in hell that fucker didn’t eat you out,” he’s sat up straighter now, eyes pining you under his gaze

“well there is a way in hell,” you move your hands as if to gesture ‘it is what it is’, “he didn’t like the taste.”

“what, he got a wonder dick or something?” he looked annoyed, “that do the job?”

“i did not ever orgasm, so no,” you laugh, finding it funny how pissed he’s getting on your part, “why are you so pissy for me zenin?”

he gives you one glance before looking forward at the tv to avoid your gaze, sighing a little, “it’s stupid, is all.”

“me not getting head?” you’re still staring at him even though he’s watching george and alex bicker on the tv

“yeah,” he nods

and satoru’s words play through your mind again, ‘personally, i think he would’ve done it by tonight already.’

but you shake the thought away before you start something stupid and reassume your cuddling position next to toji, watching as it gets revealed that the neurosurgeon lover has a wife already. the previous piece of information making toji uncharacteristically scrunch his nose and look as if he wants to spit at the screen. 

“what,” he looks at you, eyes waiting in earnest for the next episode, “that the end? start the next one.”

“are you sure,” you giggle at his sudden interest in the soap opera.

toji sinks into his spot on the couch, bringing you closer to him with a hand on the skin just above your knee, “yeah, play it.”

while you take the remote to start the new season, you laugh, then place it down before leaning up and placing a chaste kiss on the fighter’s lips, “you’re cute.”

he gives you a bored look, obvious in expressing that cute is not something he wants to be described as, but you can also feel the grip he has on you twitch for a second. 

“what?” you smile, “can i not call you cute?”

“can’t you find something better?” he says, trying not to roll his eyes

“not when you’re acting cute,” you sit up a little and grab his face to place a kiss on his forehead, then his nose, which scrunches up cutely at the action. you can see toji try to chase your lips just the slightest when he sees your mouth fall away from his nose and wander so close to his mouth. you use the observation to tease him, making it look as if the next destination was his lips until you go further down and land a peck on his chin. 

toji’s had enough of it, it seems, when he swoops a hand under your jaw and near your neck and guides you to his own mouth. he's soft about it, simply trying to taste your lips and memorize the feeling of your lips on his, until–you dont know who–one of you takes a sensual turn and makes it much more intense than need be. although unable to find the culprit of before, you can say that toji’s first in sliding his tongue into your mouth moments after. he does it slowly, flicking the muscle to tease at your own before retreating, as if waiting for yours to give the same response and you do, shyly dipping yours in to lick across his tongue. almost like he lured you in, he intertwines his muscle with yours upon the interaction and you can’t help the small high pitched moan that escapes you. 

on some sort of instinct, toji uses the hand on your knee to hook it under his grasp and guide you to his lap, planting you thigh to thigh on top of him. your hands, having forgotten what to do in these situations, awkwardly place themselves on his chest, shakily feeling the hardness of his chest underneath them. he grabs onto one of them, caressing the skin of it, while his other hand finds comfort in your waist. 

a second moan makes it way out of your throat and toji’s hips buckle up subconsciously, which makes you gasp into his searing kisses. the action has you noting that he’s hard underneath you and the exact size of him is a curiosity to you, the thought making you reach a hand down to hold him. 

he’s big, an ‘it’s going to hurt’ kind of big. 

“don’t…” he grunts out, letting go of the hand holding onto his chest and reaching down to take off the one holding his length, “touch unless you’re ready.”

“i’m ready,” you shift your hips atop of him and being forced to look at him when he pulls away from the kiss, lips pink and splotched and his pupils blown out.

“I can wait,” he says, trying to control his breathing, the expanse of his chest rising and falling so controlled even though the look in his eyes says otherwise, “don’t worry about me, if that’s it.”

“well I can’t,” you tug at one of the buttons of his shirt for emphasis, then guide one of his hands underneath your skin and near your inner thighs, “feel me.”

slowly and hesitantly, toji moves his hand onto your panties and runs a finger across the excessively damp wet spot of them.

“fuckin tease,” he groans at the touch, sliding his finger across again and again, earning mewl after mewl from you

“do you want me?” you shyly pant as you hold onto his free arm, fighting the need to put your head in his shoulders

“yeah, i fucking want you,” toji growls as he pushes you onto his chest by a hand on your back

he maintains eye contact with you when his hand pushes your panties out of the way and immediately slips a finger into your heat. the pressure of his gaze turns feral when your eyebrows knit and a loud moan leaves your lips.

for some reason, trying to excuse the loud reactions he’s about to get from you, you heave, worried, “i—i haven’t done this in a long time and–oh mmmm–i won’t be able to help myself.”

“think i care?” he huffs, concentrating on you when he slips a second finger inside and curls them both curiously to find your spot, which he does, smirking a little when your hold on him grows tighter and your hips wiggle at the pleasure, “scream all you want princess.”

he starts jutting in his fingers quickly in and out of you after the words leave his mouth, and the stretch is so good, so unlike your small hands that haven’t been able to do crap for years, that you start squealing and hug toji in by the back of his neck and shoulders.

“there you go, there you go baby,” he coos, smiling a little at the cute sounds you’re making and relishing in the squelch of your pussy while his fingers abuse it. 

“wait–wait–” you heave, beginning to push him away, even though the advance is useless due to his iron grip and try to explain an embarrassing admission so as to warn him, “i feel like im gonna–”

he gives you no chance to finish your sentence when he punches in a third finger and makes you nearly scream.

“what?” he breathes, lusty eyes boring into your own, “you gonna cum?”

“no–”you shake your head, trying your best to still relay your message even though you can feel your orgasm taking its final steps near, “well yeah–but–but–”

your stomach starts dropping and toji picks up his pace so brashly that you release almost instantaneously all over him. your legs twitch uncontrollably and you bury your face into his neck while squealing through the feeling.

“shit.” he utters, still fingering you through it, “fuck, fuck.”

“i squirt,” you almost cry, embarrassed and shaken up by your orgasm, unable to look at him, “i’m sorry, i tried to tell–”

“shut up,” toji spanks your pussy and doesn’t care when you yelp as he throws you with your back on the couch and starts to tug your panties off, “you’re gonna do it again.”

submitting to him, you shimmy out of your dress nervously while he hastily undoes the buttons of his dress shirt. the burly fighter drags you, so your legs dangle off the couch before he kneels down and places his hands underneath your thighs to spread you out for him

“look at me when i eat you,” toji pinches your clit to get your full attention on his face, “don’t close your eyes or look at the ceiling, none of that shit. got that?”

you nod your head impishly, hesitantly putting a hand on your stomach, itching to hold onto his face or his hair. 

his eyes drift to your sex and you can see a hint of irritation paint itself across his features when he mutters under his breath, “didn’t like the taste my ass.”

within milliseconds, toji saves no mercy and starts to eat you out like a man starved. his mouth is hot and wet, and you don’t know where the mess is coming from, his lips or yours. the man spits onto your pussy and so sloppily makes out with your sticky heat, interchanging between that and sucking so harsly against your clit. 

your legs are twitching so wildly and the only thing keeping you from scrambling away is toji’s hands that are now wrapped around your thighs to keep you pressed against him. 

you’re basically screaming now, in utter bliss from the heavenly feeling, unable to speak. 

his eyes keep looking up to bore into yours all while he aggressively kisses your pussy. it has your breath picking up rapidly and goosebumps rising all across your skin. his tongue laps across your lips so foreign yet so deliciously that you can’t help the increasing reach of your orgasm.

“I'm close!” you squeal after a particular suck of your clit, thinking that he needs to heed to the warning because you’re so sure you’re about to squirt on his face

all toji does in response is growl and let go of one of your thighs to start fingering you with two digits rapidly.

he stares you down while you struggle to keep the eye contact, your whole body beginning to twitch uncontrollably and your vision starting to see white until the invisible cord snaps and you feel an immense relief wash over you–and him.

the juices seeping from you seem to spur him on and he doesn’t move in any sort of way to avoid them, instead choosing to lap at them and drink it in all while making growls and groans of satisfaction. 

he’s still going at it when you come to, and you start shuffling away–well try to–from him, yelping, “it’s sensitive toji!”

he seemingly listens to you after a few seconds, running his tongue flat against your folds before he lifts his face from you. the entire lower half of his face is covered in your juices and his spit and he looks outright animalistic as he looks back at you. 

he gets up and stalks towards you until he’s on top of your body and dives down to kiss you aggressively, making you taste yourself in the process. it’s so erotic, it has your pussy fluttering all over again. 

“fuck,” he groans deeply into your mouth, “you don’t have any condoms right doll?”

you shake your head a little, but you wrap your arms around his shoulders and offer something else, “i’m on the pill…so i don’t really mind…”

you can feel his breath hitch and you’re quick to add, “but! if you’re not comfortable without one–”

“you fine with me blowing a load in you?” he mutters and seizes the chance to nip at your bottom lip

“i wanna feel it,” you admit, glad he’s still kissing you so he doesn’t see the flustered look on your face.

“dirty fucking angel,” he says heavily against your mouth before he gets up to undo his belt buckle and push both his pants and briefs in one motion.

he doesn’t even really spring up free like you expected him to. his dick is so hung that well, it hangs. the size looks bigger than what you predicted already when you touched it earlier. your ex, the only person you’ve had sex with, was the stark opposite of this, easy to fiddle with and well below average. the difference of having toji’s thick length right in front of you now had you clenching around nothing. 

“you like it?” toji smirks at you while he goes up to you again and moves you so that you’re completely laying across the couch before he climbs up on top of you between your legs.

“mhm,” you nod, looking down and hoping his tip can at least graze your folds while it bobs down near your inner thigh and that’s when you get an idea.

“can we–” you almost hesitate, “can we do a mating press?”

“was planning on it,” he says gruffly when he leans forward and pins your legs next to your head. 

you giggle at the words and he smiles down at you, a moment of innocence before the both of you look down and he’s using one hand to guide his tip into you.

the pop of his tip inside of you is overwhelming. you feel like you’re going to push him out in a single clench with how girthy he is. and you think the previous two, very wet, orgasms are what lets him slide into you, even though it stings. 

“shit’s fucking tight,” toji groans, both hands back to your legs while he and you watch him pull out nearly all the way and sink back in.

“ ‘s so big,” you huff, feeling like he’s outright in your stomach, “feel so full.”

“bet you do,” he sounds so serious when he says it, still entranced when he starts to pound in and out of you at an average pace that, although it’s not fast, still has you starting to feel tears brim near your waterline

the man above you starts groaning in sync with your moans and whines, shuddering a little everytime you clench and suck him in

“beautiful,” toji groans under his breath and you can feel his pace start to pick up a bit, “getting fucked on a huge cock, little princess slut. tiny fucking hole’s begging for help.”

the mean words mixed with his praise has you feeling epically embarrassed yet turned on all at the same time and all you can do is moan in response 

“you like getting called a slut?” he presses himself against you, almost chest to chest, smirking evilly while he raggedly breathes, “or princess? or you like me talking about splitting your pussy open?”

“all…of it,” you gasp through two punctual thrusts of his, he’s hit your cervix multiple times but the pleasure is so overwhelming, you’re starting to enjoy it

toji snickers a little, opening your legs a bit further to expose more of your torso, your tits being part of it and his intention, you realize when he goes down to pop one of your nipples into his mouth. he swirls the bud around his mouth and bites at it with his teeth while he starts to jackhammer into you, making sure each thrust is deep.

his balls start making a pap–pap sound everytime he thrusts back in, accompanying the wet squelch of toji dragging himself inside of you repeatedly.

it’s rough and hard, but more intimate than anything considering the few words being exchanged. the both of you are more concentrated on each other’s presence and reactions because after toji comes back up from your tits, he finds your lips and starts to makeout with you languidly. 

the grip on your thighs grows bruising when you mix tongue into the kissing, coaxing him to do the same too. 

“feel so fucking good,” he hisses when you clench around him uncontrollably, a sign of your incoming orgasm, “pussy’s close isn’t it”

you nod instead of speaking, concentrating on the delicious drag of his veins against your walls and the prodding of his tip at your g-spot

toji leans close to your ear, voice hard and lusty as he starts to mutter sweet and dirty nothings, “such a pretty girl, taking this cock so good.”

he then bites your ear softly, “you gonna milk my cock like a good girl? squeeze my load all out?”

shivering, you nod again and make a whimper in response 

“squirt all over me angel, i know you want to,” toji starts plummeting a bit harder into your sweet spot, finding it again, the action has you looking down at where you’re both connected unable to fathom how large he is and just how he’s making it all fit inside, “look at me.”

one of his hands is gently under your chin now, guiding you to look at him since your eyes had strayed from his own. he’s breathing heavy now and his irises are almost completely gone considering the blown out size of his pupils. 

“cum with me sweetheart,” the hand from your chin snakes its way down to your clit so as to start rubbing harsh circles for you, and you just know you’re about to make a bigger mess than before, “wrap that pretty pussy around me. milk the shit out of this dick. cum’s all yours baby.”

“ ‘s too much,” you whine, breathing ragged, “i don’t think–oh my god!”

you feel the pleasure wash over your entire body and come out all over toji’s lower abdomen accompannied by the profuse hard flutters of your pussy on his cock. you release a combination between a whine and a cry, feeling completely wrecked by the sensation.

toji follows you the moment your release gets all over him, his hips stiling and jerking into you roughly, this time giving hard kisses to your cervix instead of the fleeting small pecks from earlier. his cum feels immense, its warmth you can feel pooling inside you as toji sputters it into you.

“shit! fuck!” he groans, watching himself push it all into you before looking back up and taking you into a passionate kiss

“atta girl,” he utters after swiping his tongue across your teeth, one of his hands coming up to tentatively hold one of your breasts, “that feel good?”

tired, you weakly nod and sigh a weak, “mhm”

he lets go of the one hand holding your thigh up and moves both of your legs so that they wrap around his waist. he hasn’t pulled out yet.

“gonna buy you a new couch,” his lips twitch a little as he looks at the surrounding area near the both of you, “shit’s soaked.”

“toji!” you whine, embarrased, and pull him into you so you can hide your face.

toji doesn’t let you, instead pulling away so he can get a good look at you and grin, “you got spare sheets?”

“yeah?” you furrow your eyebrows, “but what does that have to do with the couch?”

“it doesnt. I’m fucking you on your bed later,” he shifts both of your bodies so that you can sit on top of him now just as he shifts the conversation back to what it was, “we’ll go shopping for the couch tomorrow. make it celebratory gift.”

“for the first time we fucked?”

“nah,” he lands a teasing kiss on your nose, “for your first time.”

you roll your eyes at him, “just because its been three years–”

“don’t care, doesn’t count if you never came with shrimp dick.”

a fit of giggles escapes you as you press yourself up against him for physical support, “yeah okay, it’s my first time gift.” 

then your eyes stray to his very wet clothes on the floor next to yours, “sorry i got your clothes dirty though. I don’t think i have anything for you to wear either.”

toji puts both of his thumbs at the corner of your mouth to make your pout disappear, he snickers at himself for it, “i’ll call my assistant to drop off some clothes here.” 

“how long will that take?”

“long as our shower,” toji huffs as he lifts the both of you up and starts walking to your restroom.

“and how long will that take?” you laugh, wiggling your eyebrows at him and clinging onto his shoulders.

“three more orgasms,” he comments, opening the door and leading the both of you to a very steamy shower. 

“you haven’t even made the call yet!”

“shut up.”

[pomefioredove]

need overblot boys with epel, and floyd with a reader that randomly lore drops as if they're an old dad like "yeah lol my old school had a shooting once....anyways *SNOREE*" and when asked they just agree and walk away and never elaborate whatsoever💀 if you feel uncomfortable feel free to delete or ignore‼️love ya pookie💥

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ a reader with a backstory

I got u 🫡🫡

summary: wacky reader lore type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, azul, floyd, jamil, vil, epel, idia, malleus additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

you find new ways to raise Riddle's blood pressure every day

little guy is worried enough as it is

you've already got your school work, taking care of Ramshackle, taking care of Grim, taking care of all the other freshmen, taking care of-

well... you get it

the last thing he needs is to hear another one of your stories

"oh, yeah, that's like the time I got stabbed"

"????? WHAT??"

what's entertaining to you and ADeuce is mortifying to Riddle

if you're not careful you'll end up sleeping on the floor in his room

where he can keep a close eye on you

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

you're like Leona's little court jester

and he takes you with him everywhere

it's not easy to get a genuine laugh out of him, after all

besides, what's so bad about a little dark humor? it's not like you died or anything

he knows you're a resilient little thing

and you seem to love telling him about "that time you crawled into a drainage pipe", anyway

you make him laugh; he likes you

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Azul indulges you

his white noise machine stopped working last month and you make for excellent background ambience

so, he lets you talk yourself in circles about your school work, your friends, Grim, Grim again

and then you drop the most HEINOUS bombshells in the middle

"blah blah blah Grim, blah blah Crowley, blah blah, that one time I got lost in the woods for a day, blah blah-"

he loses his train of thought every time

now, Floyd is the complete opposite

he will hyperfocus on the most mundane details

and ignore the bombshells

will give you an, "oh, that's cool" to your ghost story but will find you the pair of socks you mentioned liking three months ago

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Jamil is just fascinated by you

you as a person, of course

but also the fact that you're still alive

one night, he's explaining the reason he makes all of Kalim's food and you're like

"oh, yeah, I get it. I got mold poisoning once and hallucinated for a week"

?????

then you go right back to asking him about the recipe

sitting on the counter, as happy as could be

"HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE!!!"

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil is used to this

he knows that look on your face

he will shush you with a finger to your lips before you even start

"don't tell me, I'm stressed enough as it is"

he's going to break out if you keep at it

he finds you quite... macabre

which is entertaining until he sees you going down a flight of stairs without holding onto the railing and remembers all those stories you'd told him

he's just... concerned for you, that's all

and he does NOT appreciate Epel for encouraging it

"tell us more about the time you fell down that hill into that pile of rocks, Prefect!"

:D

like a kid in a candy store

learning new Lore is like the highlight of his week

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

"talk about having a high luck stat..."

Idia is more entertained than anything

he thought these kinds of things only happened in anime, but...

...there you are

it sounds like you experience more in a single month than he has in his whole life

and you know what?

GOOD

you can keep your freaky real-world experiences!

he'll just live vicariously through you

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

poor Malleus

he's been putting so much effort into learning and blending with human culture, and now here you are with your terrifying stories

you tell him in such earnest, too

you seem so... unbothered by it

perhaps humans are less fragile than he thought?

of course, he shouldn't have underestimated you in the first place :)!

then you come over for dinner one night

"hahah, yeah, last time I was at someone's house their grandma threw a lamp at my head and I got a concussion"

Silver and Sebek both go >_>

Lilia goes <_<

and then Malleus is there like, "ah, another fascinating tale :)"

[meownotgood]

pillars. / viktor x gn!reader, fluff and angst, lots of angst actually, implied childhood friends, confession kisses, mentions of death, one singular czech pet name, kissing viktor's moles, takes place during s1 act 2, so technically no s2 spoilers but some things are implied. word count: 7.9k

read on ao3

════════════════════

"You look exhausted," You hum, your voice thick with fatigue in unison, "Don't you think you should rest?" 

Viktor takes a breath deep and slow enough to hear, his hands briefly faltering as he twirls a small, bronze magnifying glass with his fingers, but he doesn't reply, nor does he turn away from his notes. 

The lab is cool, quiet — aside from the distant hum of various pressure valves and idle machinery. The Hexcore thrums. Runic engravings litter each complex, geometric surface. Viktor rests his balled-up hand on his face, bony knuckles pressing into his cheek. With his inkpen, he messily scrawls something into his notebook. Low, blue light illuminates the cluttered room and his workspace. Each side of the Hexcore pulses when you approach behind him, twirling to its own complex, ominous rhythm. Acknowledging you, somewhat. 

Viktor inhales sharply, and shakes his head frustratedly, crossing out what he'd just written with jittery, forceful motions. 

It wouldn't be the first time you've found him here, like this, mulling over some sort of invention or idea when most of the city is already asleep. Falling into a focused routine is merely second nature. And normally, you wouldn't protest. 

When you were much, much younger, staying awake as long as you could felt fun. Helping Viktor cram studying for exams in between finishing an invention the night before Progress Day became a yearly occurrence. In the weeks before finalizing blueprints for the Hexgates, you'd almost forgotten when either of you had last seen the sun. It's just that this routine has been far more absorbing, far more taxing — and the repercussions are painted clearly on Viktor's shadowed face. 

He looks drained. Worn. Like if he tried to stand, if he wasn't leaning against his desk and absorbed in his research, the weight of his own exhaustion might make him crumble and collapse. The ends of his hair stick out in messy, curled strands, from where he's anxiously twirled them around his fingers. 

You hate the dark bags that have made their home under his eyes. You feel a knot in your gut as you watch Viktor's hands; shaky, and imprecise. Flipping through the pages of his notebook to search for something. Tracing a sentence with the end of his inkpen, only for his gaze to flicker back to the start when the words failed to register. 

You sigh. Forcing a smile, even though he can't see it, you take another stumbling step forwards. Your arms wrap around his thin figure loosely, and your weight settles gently yet firmly against his hunched back, in something of a tender, evocative hug. 

Viktor shifts, his grip tightens on his pen when it almost slips. You nuzzle into the perfect, head-shaped space at the crook of his neck, breathing him in — flooding your senses with a coffee-warm richness, with the scent of ash and sweat and lingering sparks. 

His gaze softens like melted honey. As if the simple press of your body to his returned pieces to himself he'd thought he lost. Brows unpinching, your heat at his neck spreads across him in waves, contradicting the collected edge kept in his tone. 

"I'm not yet tired," Viktor lies, trying his hardest not to lean into your embrace. "I'd like to analyze this for a few moments longer. This page is," He shakes his head. "Incomplete. If I could find the key to what induces some form of response, then-" 

As if on queue, the Hexcore sparks with energy, twirling faster, glowing with luminous constellations. Viktor swiftly moves to jot something down, but as fast as the Hexcore reacted, it's just as quick to return to normalcy. 

He mutters something under his breath, slightly jostling you from his shoulders when he leans forwards in focus. 

"I swear," You're grumbling; you rest your chin on the hard edge of his shoulder, glancing between the Hexcore and his notes with passive interest. "You've always been like this." 

"Like what?" Viktor flips through his notebook once more. "Stubborn, I'm assuming?" 

"Stubborn, yes. Smart. Terribly ambitious." You reach up, until you're able to place a few taps onto his forehead with the end of your finger. Viktor barely seems to notice. He adds onto an almost-full page by messily writing in the margins. 

"I know how hard it is for you to stop those gears in that brain of yours. Once they're going, it's impossible to get them to stop." 

"Mm. And you know how important this pursuit is in particular, yes?" 

He reaches for a notched turn dial on the opposite side of his desk, connected to the Hexcore by a series of braided wires and support poles. Your gaze follows his hands — gripping carefully, with delicate, calloused fingers. There's a distinct pause. A moment of palpable tension, as you both instinctively hold your breath. 

Viktor twists the dial. Once, twice. 

The Hexcore gives off a few miniscule, pitiful sparks, like a God's first attempt at a lightning storm. And he expels a long, drowsy, disappointed sigh. 

"I do," You murmur, sympathetic. 

Viktor grinds his jaw, hard enough to feel it aching, but even through his fierce familiarity with self-induced destruction, even though he isn't deserving of this, he can't hope to hold onto the ragged bites of stress in his veins. Not when you're so warm, when the feeling you ignite in his chest with your voice alone is so terribly soft. He has missed this. 

"But I also know," You're continuing, "Every time you get close to a breakthrough, once you let yourself rest," Viktor's head nods sleepily, struggling not to fall, and you playfully tap your index finger to the end of his nose. 

"That's when you find it." 

Part of him wishes he could keep himself from listening. Of course, as strongly as he wants to be better and more efficient, because taking a break is like admitting defeat, and defeat is worse than accepting he might've reached the end of his line — he knows you're right. 

Placing the cap on his pen, he leaves it in the middle of his notebook, closes the pages to save his spot before hastily, reluctantly pushing it aside. 

You grin. You slowly shift up, and Viktor feels your arms sliding from his shoulders, your weight leaving his body. For a second, he thinks you might move, believes you'll leave and feels a sharp grind between his ribs at the thought. Instead, you place your palms on his rigid shoulders, and you squeeze. 

His lashes flutter, eyes partially rolling into his skull. His head grows dizzy, like he'd been spun. Frustration melts out of him as warmth and light take its place, shining from your touch like the kiss of stars and the rays of the sun. Bright and lovely; galaxies weaving themselves into his tired muscles. 

Relaxing, he can't help but lean back, dropping his head against your waiting chest. 

"I saw Jayce before I left this morning," You're murmuring. It's in one ear, and out the other at first. You lean in, speaking close to him this time, to make sure you've been heard. Your voice shudders through him, warm like candle wax. "Says he hasn't seen you sleep in days." 

"In one day," Viktor corrects, rather matter-of-fact for someone who's busy melting into you like his limbs are boneless. "Technically, about twenty- no, twenty two hours. More or less. Honestly… hardly worth the over-exaggeration." 

"Vik," You scoff playfully, breath fanning warmly on his skin. "You're doing it again." 

Your palms move. They drift from his shoulders to his arms, fingertips gently toying with his sleeves in a foolish attempt to touch his skin. He tilts his head all the way back, and cracks his weary eyes open to look at you. 

"And what is it I'm doing?" 

"Saying things that make me worry about you. And then expecting me not to." 

"I am not-" 

Right then, before he can speak, your hands return to his now-tensed shoulders; they combat the ache in his chest and the tightness in his throat when they roll his muscles. His chest thrums with a soothing gentleness, rich and saccharine, difficult to swallow down. 

"You are worried about me?" Viktor questions, sighing slightly when your hands work out a particularly old, tightened knot. "I have not seen you in… who knows how many days. I have lost count." 

Your mouth forms a hard line. 

"I- I know," You're answering, hands drifting down smoothly, as if they're carried on waves. They find where his tie is neatly fastened around his collar, grasping the diamond and pulling to loosen it. "I've been trying not to get in your way. Everything is just- Jayce is a counselor now, and you're busy with a thousand different things. I'm not going to interrupt your work with my stupid-" 

"Our work." Viktor's tone is resolute. It holds you, grounds you against the raging winds in your mind that threaten to pull at your pieces. "Hextech was furthered by your contributions. Do not forget that." 

You swallow, but it does little to chase away the dryness in your throat. In a hasty, abrupt motion, your palm grasps Viktor's shoulder, this time twisting his chair to make him face you. He eyes you with surprise for a moment, his tired gaze tender and weak enough to light the shrapnel in your stomach. 

"Viktor." Your head tilts, affectionate. You reach up, and brush away the messy strands of hair that cover his pretty face and tickle his forehead. "This research, this dream of yours, it's-" 

"It is a necessary risk." 

Gaze wide, you freeze up. Viktor exhales sharply, glances away from you to focus on something in the distance instead — messy shelves of discarded machinery, inventions you once worked on together, etched with your signature and his — because the way you're looking at him has an ache prodding at his heart, sharp and thorned.  

"Finalizing this thesis would simply be the beginning," Viktor continues, passionate, gradually starting to talk with his hands. "Think of the lives we could save, of the good we could prosper from this sort of technology. Enough to improve the Undercity for the better, to provide rationale for the potential dangers. I understand you are worried- but this is our life's work we are talking about. If we were to determine the true limits of Hextech, it would make our efforts worth it, in spite of… even if…" 

He stops, trails off. Glances up, and decides he might've said too much. You understand. You have always understood where all of this is going. 

The lives he could change would be worth the price, even if he was to throw away his. 

Tattered threads tear from within you — unspoken, buried deep. You've become well acquainted with the taste of denial. Sharp on your tongue, thick in your throat to meld with the bile. It sits on your lips as words better left unspoken. Eats away at your skin and your flesh and your core, settles in your limbs and at the tips of your useless fingers. Reverberates, until the ringing in your ears begins to sound like him. 

Piltover feels so distant, with the idle noise of the lab filling the room. Miles away, even though you're right in its heart. Nothing has ever been fair. It cast you aside, it was never your home. He was. 

All you've received for ages now are fake sentiments, vague reassurances. Reminders of how terribly futile your ambitions have proven to be. Every sun has to set, every star will burn out — but fuck, you don't want him to burn. 

Your mind is dizzy. Each thought spins, tipped faster and faster. Light pounds from behind your eyelids, and your stomach churns, making you nauseous. The lines blur between Viktor's figure, the floor, and the dull aura of the Hexcore, beginning to overlap everything together. 

You aren't present, or perhaps you're wishing to be anywhere but here. Curled beneath the covers, hiding under your bed like you did when you were a child, running to the furthest, broken edge of the universe so you wouldn't have to imagine him slipping through your fingertips; Viktor draws you back, grasping your chin oh-so gently. He tilts you towards him, puts your focus on him to push the rest of the world into the background. 

"Though, I suppose there is no harm in stopping for the night," Viktor reasons, his tone a soft murmur, devastatingly gentle. "I have missed you. I believe I may have neglected to make myself clear." 

And for a brief reprieve, there isn't anything sweeter. Nothing this fatal. 

His arm braces behind him, elbow resting on the edge of the desk. You follow through when he gently keeps you in place, steady on his direction; you're a compass, and he's Polaris. Your gazes don't separate, magnetized together like a hex crystal to iron. 

For a moment, he forms a small pout, in a way that would have you grinning if the circumstances were different. His expression ripens, becomes soft. Almost guilty. A plea and an apology and some form of a confession, muddled into one dangerous, indecipherable nebula. 

"You sure?" You're muttering, trying to keep your tone upbeat, regardless. "Your project looks like it's itching to fly away." 

"Eh," Viktor shrugs, he allows his thumb to brush over your cheek. "I'm sure it can wait. It understands I have more important things to focus on." 

His touch makes you ache. Guides your sorrow to entwine with his, digs in deep to grasp at your chest with such devastating familiarity. 

It's an excruciating reminder of how much you have craved this. How badly it hurts, to feel Viktor's hand tremble as he touches you, slightly unsure, when you wish he wouldn't be. Exhaustion is wound so deeply into his system, you'd think he was born with it. He brushes his palm from your cheek to your jaw, caressing idly, in an absent, lazy motion. And it frustrates you, because you know you'll soon be lost, wishing you could feel his touch again. 

Every pound of your heart reminds you of everything — of the brushes of fingers, when passing tools and pens at the work table. Hands solidly grabbing one another to steady anxieties, to offer familiar reminders. Nights spent categorizing constellations, while in your eyes, Viktor's radiance burned brighter than any distant galaxy. 

Gentle touches pressed to weary limbs. Tightening machinery, releasing the gears on a brace. An arm offered to help him stand. Instinctually standing beside him, at the side that might need you. Fingertips exploring the notches of a spine, traveling rivers of veins, mapping out star-shaped clusters of freckles. 

Tired moments much like this, but instead of protests and strives against fate, there were lovely brushes of whispers. Twin dips in the same bed, murmurs of, I'm here, you can go back to sleep. Touches that wished for themselves to be something more, something lasting. Though they knew they'd evaporate by morning. 

It's far too late to still rely on daydreams. 

You let the haze die out, tracing the edges of his hard knuckles as an apology before you clumsily push his hand from your cheek. Standing up straight, the lab seeming more cold and quiet and empty than ever, you choose to put distance in between yourself, and your lost love. 

"Sorry. I shouldn't-" Breathe, you've got to remind yourself to breathe. Air catches in your lungs, sharp and dizzy, and you quickly shake your head. "Viktor, I-" 

Gods, Viktor shouldn't have to choose between you and his ambition. He shouldn't need to place his own body in the middle of making a difference, and saving himself. There's still so much you haven't done, haven't said. The life you both dreamed of and fought for is crumbling, he still has so much he was meant to accomplish, and yet — 

A hand grabs your wrist with surprising force, to keep you from taking another step back. 

Viktor's brows pinch. "Do not tell me you're thinking of leaving." 

Oh. Your gaze finally travels up from your feet, and he looks hurt; his voice barely manages to avoid cracking around the edges. His fingers dig into your wrist sharply, desperately. 

Viktor's jaw tightens, his firm grip causing veins to show in his wrist. Your shoulders slump, and you exhale. 

"I'll walk home with you. You shouldn't sleep here, it's bad for your-" 

"No, no you will not," Viktor interrupts, exasperation echoed through his tone, pain and worry laced through the lines of his palms to compel them to shake. "Tell me why you are refusing to stay. It's been weeks without change, why must you run off the moment I attempt to make time for you? I doubt you have any idea how much this torments me." 

Weeks of avoidance, days upon days where he'd watch you disappear too soon. Viktor would turn, he'd say something to the empty air because he expected you to be there, but you would be gone, absent from the lab or the hallways or the dorm you once shared. Bitter sentimentality, the hurt you forgot to take with you, is all that would linger in his bones. 

Just how far are you willing to run — in vain, until your legs might snap — to pretend you won't lose the only thing you have left, your friend, your partner, to imagine you might escape the certainty of his conclusion? 

Your gaze is flighty. It carries raindrops, flutters on soft wings, between him and the intricate, statuette angles of his face. Between the ground and the desk, and the glowing Hexcore. He has rarely seen you so unsettled. When your emotions run high, you hide them from him; unsuccessfully, he might add. Your wrist flexes beneath his palm as he feels your hand clench, and unclench. 

Little by little, you're tugging his heart from between his ribs. Tearing it apart like petals pulled, like the games you used to get lost in when you both were kids; you love him, you love him not —

"I can't stay. I wasn't- I shouldn't have tried to come back to the lab in the first place," You answer, dejected. His grip only tightens on your wrist when you pull. "Viktor, please." 

"Answer me. I need you to say something," Viktor grits out, voice getting louder, his shoulders tensed with frustration. "What is the cause of this- this fracture in between us?" 

Your arm drops. Your bottom lip quivers, and your breath gets caught in your lungs. The expression on your face is more sore than he's ever seen it, painful enough to kill, bordering on bursting into tears. 

And then, your voice quiets. "I don't want to watch you die." 

The Hexcore gives off a low, rumbling sound. The lab becomes quiet enough to hear the individual ticks of machinery gears. 

Viktor's grip loosens on your wrist, only slightly. He doesn't speak, he can't listen to his heart or his head when he's placed between the persistent thrumming of both. You aren't looking at him. Regret dawns on your face, then sadness, then something he can't recognize when you turn your head away. Fatigue curls into his system, and settles amongst everything else: the guilt, the anticipation. The raw, forceful tenderness. 

It's a reminder that you're right. 

The passing of each slow second seems to exist for just the two of you. Dragging on and on. Barely helping him to find any answers. If only there was more time. 

Words could never be enough, burying your emotions like lodging a knife way deep in your chest isn't working. Your partner was made to burn bright, to exist as an act of defiance itself. To dedicate his mind and his body and his bruised hands to progress, no matter the obstacles or limitations, the past grievances or untold emotions. 

So many moments were never adequately spent. Days and weeks across years taunted you, moments spent as friends and colleagues, despite half of you belonging to him. 

You just needed one push, one thrust into the light to stop you from holding back, because you knew you risked ruining everything. But if Viktor continues, if the Hexcore grows more and more dangerous, if the council continues to require more of him, and what you haven't spoken about becomes true — there won't be anything left to ruin.

And as he watches you collapse, firm on the outside but weak on the inside, turning back to him because you have to, not because you want to, Viktor finally understands. 

He knows this body is… wilting. 

Decaying; he can feel every ounce of newfound weakness in his limbs, knows he's a servant to his own existence as it waits for him to waste away. Many from the Undercity are much less fortunate. He is grateful you are stronger than him. 

More pressingly, he is acutely, abruptly aware of how little time he's spent with you — it runs as fierce in his chest as the hourglass-shaped reminders of the short span he has left. You used to be inseparable, you shared the same dreams. Your talks weren't limited to melancholy utterances of, Have you eaten yet? and, Is your leg okay? and, I never see you anymore, will this time be the last? 

How he's chosen to treat himself are small deaths, in a way. Promises to join you later that led to nothing, nights of exhaustion framed by mornings of fading in and out. He's followed his own guide to avoidance, the steps were simply laid out differently. He's grown sick of it, truly. And deep down, or perhaps on the surface, he is so, terribly exhausted. 

Swallowing thickly, you remain frozen in place, waiting for him to give up, for his hand to slip from your wrist. When it does, you continue to linger. Your heart pounds loud in your ears. Little glances at him greet you with his face downcast, his shoulders slumped. 

You sigh — and you decide this can't be it, or perhaps you're just not ready. You draw yourself dangerously close, to trail your knuckles down Viktor's sharp jaw as a weak apology. 

If there's one thing he isn't accustomed to, it's throwing logic to the wind. Viktor tries to think of this like his notes, attempts to categorize and interpret these emotions. He imagines there's diagrams and logs in his own swirly handwriting, outlines that would guide him to precisely what he needs to do. 

None of it works, of course. It's a terribly juvenile line of thinking. And he's rarely one to give into impulsivity, but you make it so difficult to think, to focus. 

His breathing is already quickening and sharpening, creating pockets of light in his weak lungs, even through the reminders of his own mortality's shadow. Nothing is more important than the feeling you cradle in his chest, bright and fate-defying. 

It would not be like him to accept this. To fade out with a hundred contributions unfinished, a thousand words unspoken. Confessions meant to fall from his voice like meteor showers, fears and regrets with no way to form on his tongue. The thought alone leaves him troubled, choked. His jaw tightens in frustration, only relaxing when the ghost of your fingertips guides him to. 

Low light frames you, the features of your face troubled; oh, he can hardly remember the last time he's seen your smile. But he remembers, knows it to be beautiful. The slight softening his gaze undergoes as it flickers across you is utterly familiar — you pointed it out, once. 

Your eyes overfill with warmth, they melt like amber. Your pupils widen like big, lovesick moons. His head can't help but spin; there's so much he never realized, when you did.

His hands like to absently search for something to fiddle with when he needs to think. His fingers have a habit of tapping against something methodically: his desk, the spine of his notebook, his own forehead. The mark above his mouth follows his lips, when they tip into a smile. He's doing it now, surely. Softening in your afterimage. Gaze warm, honeyed, hopeful. 

No, he isn't sure if his fate can be changed; he's treading close, but he isn't dying yet. The Hexcore is unresponsive to every stimulus he's attempted, but his research is far from complete. There are mountains of quandaries he isn't sure he can fix, pitfalls remaining just out of his control. All but one, all but this. This is something he could do, something he can change. 

You almost speak. Almost give some useless, parting words when his tired, gentle eyes drift back to yours, two ships on the same sea. He's inquisitive, hesitant, his brows creased together in thought and with conviction. The mere sight of him — hair a mess, skin pallid, ignites a thousand feelings and worries in your gut; a lighter tossed to a puddle of gasoline. 

It's something Viktor picks up on. 

You look pained. Unsure of yourself, from the way your eyes can't quite meet his own, from how your hand slips away from his cheek, as everything in you threatens to disappear. Weary, as you gaze at him like you've already lost him. 

You've forgotten how to read him, he realizes. Caught up on what you might lose, the both of you have forgotten what you could have. Viktor's heart feels like it might burst, with enough force to make the sun's implosion look weak, and you don't understand, he'd have to show you. 

He takes it as a sign. Grasps the last chance you've extended to him, and runs with it as fast as he can. 

His name dies on your mouth, before you have the chance to speak it. Echoes haunt your soul when his palm finds your cheek, solid, sure; Viktor pulls you in hard, threads of distance easily closed, and he presses his lips to yours with an intensity that feels vividly visceral. 

It won't fix what's already been done. This isn't a promise, falling short between being reassurance and becoming a goodbye. It isn't the way he would want to confess, if fate was kind enough to give him a choice. 

But Gods, logic and reason, worry and mortality are all melting into nothing. Fading and fizzing into the sky, budding and beginning anew in his lungs — because for so long, he has needed this, needed you. As fiercely as dead parchment longs to be burned. 

Your body immediately goes tense in surprise. Your arms awkwardly hover in place, until Viktor's head tilts, following the gentle aria, his palm brushing from your jaw to your cheek to hold you close — as though you're still prone to vanishing, if he were to let go. Like this is the beginning of too many firsts, and even more lasts. This kiss is worthy of savoring. 

So, you do. You let your eyes flutter closed. You shift forwards with a shaky step, practically stumbling into him. 

It's sweeter than you ever could have pictured. The subtle roughness to his chapped lips. The slight tickle of his breath, when you pull apart for long enough to hesitate, but not enough to gain the wisdom to stop. 

Soft kisses draw you further, closer. A hand holds his cheek, a palm braces to his shoulder. Careful to use little force, to avoid any accidental hurt. 

Viktor follows, leans back, has you bending closer as you get caught in his butterfly effect; blue light bathes you, and the Hexcore shifts, utterly radiant. There's a moment of separation, a brief second where your eyes barely get to flutter open. A pause that promises to be your last opportunity for regret. Greedy and urgent, brutally eager, Viktor drags you back in, keeping you caught in his penumbra. Coaxing you to cage him in — to kiss him like you mean it. 

The taste of you is vivid, perfect, intense, rich; you make charged electricity glitter down his spine when your fingers curl into the soft, chestnut tresses of his hair. Grasping, pulling, leaving it even messier than it already was before. 

Your lips part, your breath forms an intoxicating meld with his. And he is only foolishly, stupidly human. Made of flesh and bright dreams, etched with soft skin and fervent desires. Too weak, desperate, and caught in your echo to contemplate anything but the way his own name sounds — the V is a soft vibration, the completion of the consonants makes it sound like reverence — when it's breathed into his mouth. 

Hazily, he feels your palm press, shoving gently to his chest, pushing his back against the desk in a clumsy effort to bring yourself closer. His chair shifts slightly from the movement, rusted wheels grating the tile. Your palm finds its place between his lower back and the desk's firm edge, bracing some of his weight, and acting as a buffer, keeping him from pressing against it. 

Viktor melts underneath you, breathes a soft noise into your mouth that begs you not to stop — as if you could. As if you haven't wanted this in an unquantifiable amount of ways, across an infinitum of discarded daydreams. You're left to steal gasps in between, clinging onto quickened sighs that rival the struggle of keeping your head above water, as wild waves crash over your skull. 

Out of breath, he blindly fumbles to find your shoulder; pushes gently, silently asks you for a moment of reprieve. 

You draw back immediately. You're unable to stop yourself from shuddering when he softly breathes your name. Familiar accent curling around the syllables, giving them life and importance like your name was made for him to say. To whisper, to covet, to plead. 

"Lásko," Viktor coos, as his eyes grow heavy. Glinting, with a spark of zeal that tells you to stop holding back. 

You're well acquainted with the warm, softhearted nickname. You know it to be something Viktor taught you himself, between gentle explorations of the few things you didn't already know about one another, when your late-night curiosity and desire to learn led you to, Oh, and what name would you use for someone special? 

His jaw grits; his next words, murmured in his mother tongue, resemble a sharp, possessive swear. His head tilts with yours when you lean closer — but you shift, falling in to let your lips find his neck. 

The kisses you place there are hurried, desperate; like rays of light, as if you don't have time. Obediently, he stifles a whimper, and allows his head to fall back. It leaves plenty of room for your wandering hands to crinkle and press aside his shirt collar, and you place your lips on the firm, jutting curve of his collarbone. 

You find the twin moles on his neck tendon, blessing a kiss there, near desperate enough to bruise. You follow them like a treasure map, to kiss the perfectly-placed mole above his mouth. Your palms cup his face faintly. Then, you sweetly kiss the mark on his opposite cheek, your lips warm, laced with fervent sparks. 

Viktor shudders, he feels lighting race up his spine and split him open like a scythe. He's been avoiding his own declining reflection for weeks upon months now, but he doesn't need to remember much of himself to still know exactly where you're kissing, like the back of his hand. 

The ghost of your lips just above his mouth, and then to the apple of his cheek send a thick, syrup-sweet realization reeling through him. His moles. It reminds him of fingertips playfully tapping his face. Of soft comments and pretty compliments, portraits of his own image that he'd never forgotten because they were from you. 

When you hear the hitch in his breath, he swears he feels you smile against him. He's certain, once you shift back down to his neck, to repeat the process all over again. Placing messy kisses onto his soft skin, worshiping the intricacies he would've never thought were admirable. Memorizing each placement as though it's deliberate, like making a map of the night sky's constellations. And Viktor swallows, shakes, softens. 

Blindly, you search for where his hand has been kept at your side. You grasp it, and pursue the natural interlacing of fingers: yours fitting perfectly between the gaps of his. 

Trying not to shudder, failing when your breath fans against the right-angle corner of his jaw, he guides his free hand to trace the small of your back. His fingertips are gentle, hesitant. Careful brushes akin to a study, an exploration. 

With a dizzy mind and even more muddled thoughts, he doesn't expect when you support your weight by placing your knee on his stool, between his legs — when you lean in close and fast and hard, crashing your lips against his once more. One kiss isn't enough, so you kiss him again; you let yourself be pulled in on his current, and he forgoes breathing to drink you in instead. 

Your body arches into his touch, curves when his palm presses flat to your back, attempting to feel as much of you as possible. You want to be pliable beneath his warm hands like clay, because at least being molded would leave an imprint. You'd have something to remember what this meant, what his touch felt like. 

Seconds and minutes bleed into one another. You can barely tell where he begins, and you end. Two halves of the same anatomy, you can feel the thrum of his inherent light beneath your breastbone. 

The Hexcore watches. Pulses, hard enough to make pens begin to roll across the desk. To topple a precarious stack of diagrams, which sends a few papers fluttering to the ground, to make the steel marbles of a Newton's cradle clumsily clink together. 

Neither of you notice. The response Viktor's been searching for spikes just beyond his reach. You make him feel weightless, as though the fragility of his own vessel is more of an afterthought, until he could be ripped into fragments and you would be there to put him back together. Viktor's palm holds the back of your neck, his head tilts with yours, and you kiss. Falling into one another, only unfalling to breathe. Your atoms melt into his particles, blossoming a blur between your two shapes. Your heart pounds with his, to a rhythm so exact they could be mistaken for the same singular beat. 

Finally pulling away requires a mountain's worth of strength and effort. You only do so because you've got Viktor's back pressed hard against the desk, and he's practically about to fall off his chair. 

You both needed to breathe. It takes several moments for your head to stop spinning. You can barely focus on anything, but the bruising of your lips and the skip of your heartbeat. Stumbling back, sliding from his chair to offer him more room, you cup his jaw in both palms. Soft and blissfully tender, as though this is what they were made to hold. 

Viktor sighs hard, gasping heavily. His skin is slightly flushed, still warm to the touch. His gaze stays on you, basking in your afterglow. You're used to him flinching away. A slight hesitation always laces through his fingers when you try to grab his hand. His muscles tense on instinct whenever your arm wraps around him, braced to help support his weight. 

But this time, your palms hold his face, your thumbs brush his skin, and he melts into your touch, unburdened. Gaze fluttery, expression relaxed. Giving in at last, after countless ages of starvation. 

The low light of the lab, and the soft glow of the Hexcore's rune matrix — quiet, now — frame his face in outlines of shadow and hues of cerulean. Shades of blue meld with the honeycomb of his eyes, dulling the color. Clouds over a fading sun. 

He hears the slight shake in your breath first, before he feels a tiny droplet hit his cheek; and you're leaning forward, trying to hide. Eyes shut tight, as you rest your forehead against his. 

"Sorry, I-" Viktor murmurs, weak and faint. So quiet, you almost fail to hear. "I know this does not… fix things." 

Oh. He hasn't seen you cry since you were both kids. 

Viktor remembers clumsily trying to comfort you, making a crude somewhat-flower-pinwheel out of scrap metal as a gift, because he thought it wouldn't fix everything, but it might make things a little bit easier. For a time, anyway. 

Reality is often a cold, cruel overseer. Remembering how to breathe again brings sharp pain into his lungs, it returns an ache to his tired shoulders and his strained leg. His vision comes back into focus, his future returns to taunt him but this time, something is different. 

He feels a spark. A newfound wave of ambition. The radiant golden hour, before a bright, final breakthrough. 

"It's fine," You breathe, weak and fragile, with a meager shrug of your shoulders that says you are anything but. "I didn't expect it to." 

Viktor grasps your chin, gently shifting you back to give him space to look at you. His thumb brushes a stray droplet from your cheek. He tuts: a soft, teasing, tch sound. "Ah, but for a time, the world nearly felt miles away. Did it not?" 

His gaze is hopeful, almost nervous. Trying to gauge any slight shift in your reaction. Thankfully, his voice seems to swiftly bring you back to life. You laugh a bit, wiping the remainder of tears away with the back of your hand; there's the smile he's always admired. 

"Like we were melting into each other," You admit, a little shy, tenderly wistful. Your heart unfurls in your chest like a bright, pretty blossom. It's fitting for the both of you to recollect, to try and analyze the intricacies of every situation. "It was…" 

You're pausing, trying to find the right description, as you rest your arms around his shoulders in something of a half-hug. It was lovely? Captivating? Addicting? 

You shake your head. You're glancing away, because even remembering kissing him is enough to make your heart pound, enough to tempt you to pull him in again. Viktor tilts you back towards him, his finger lightly tapping your jaw. 

"Hm- Breathtaking?" He muses, "Better than you could have dreamed?" 

The brief lilt of confidence he embodies, words smooth as they're carried on his accent, pleasantly reminds you of when he was younger. Far too composed, and eager to prove himself. He follows it through, coaxing you forwards with a palm to your side. You're gentle; most of your weight, you support yourself, until Viktor pulls you down, patiently and decidedly guiding you to settle against his lap. 

"You know," You're cooing, head tilted, "That sounds an awful lot like a confession." 

You can see each subtle heave of Viktor's chest, expanding with every long breath he takes in. It's a tight fit. His stool is barely wide enough to accommodate himself, let alone you. His brace presses into the back of your leg just slightly: jutting metal, protruding bolts. The spread of his thighs leaves you with a small amount of space, but still forces your body to press awfully close to his. 

You're in the perfect position to witness every detail of his face. His tired eyes, the curve of his jaw, the slant of his nose. His thick brows pinch slightly, forming a faux pout, and you reach up. You brush your thumb from his temple to his brow, relishing in the instant softening of his expression. 

"Perhaps it is one. Or, actually-" Viktor hums, inquisitive. "It contains the potential to be one, if I decided to elaborate." 

"Oh? Enlighten me." 

A pause. Viktor bites the inside of his cheek as he ruminates, and your fingertips push fluffy strands of hair from his face to tuck behind his ears. 

"For so long, I… ached to be close to you." His tone is calm, temperate. It twists a shiver up your spine, cool and heaven-sent. His palm trails and caresses your face; a lesson in restraint, as he tries to stop himself from pulling you in once more. "It was a pipe dream. I assumed I was… too late." 

"I thought- I was sure you didn't-" Your shoulders grow tense and the bridge of your nose knots up, you twirl a strand of his hair around your finger and pull it away to admire the resounding curl. "Since when?" 

Viktor exhales. "We have been effectively inseparable since the day we met, I am certain you still remember when the Undercity kids would laugh and- and make jabs at my obvious crush. But, you are searching for something specific. In that case, there is one instance." 

This time, you don't have to ask him to elaborate. 

A palm tracing down the column of your neck, idle yet admiring, Viktor takes one more steady, deep breath. "It was the Progress Day after we had finalized the Hexgates. The council's afterparty was… stifling. I was fortunate to have convinced you to attend. You wore such gorgeous attire. Jayce commented, stated I was unable to take my eyes off of you. I denied it. In hindsight, it was more than obvious." 

The party was hardly your usual scene. Viktor was always the one who wound up convincing you to attend every Progress Day. 

He'd mention you should vouch for your contributions, try to mingle. You were fine with dressing up for an hour or two, but all of the drinking and fraternizing — you found the presentations about new technology to be interesting, but everything to happen afterwards was tiring, to put it bluntly. 

The occasion then was more special than most, though. There was a difference in the way Viktor asked you, sounding hopeful and stress-bound. It seemed important to him, and so it was doubly precious to you. 

"I joined you on the balcony, once I was able to shake the flocks of investors." Viktor continues, thinking, thumbing through all of the details, "You'd been saving a cocktail for me all night, if you remember. Something made with rum- apple cider, I believe." 

Viktor recalls overhearing several of your conversations. Your excitement to show off what you invented together was palpable. You made the room shine, he thinks. He watched you go on and on, when you thought he wasn't listening, assuming he was busy with his own consultations. Viktor zoned out of them, truly. Once the day's festivities are over, the rich folk of Piltover are more interested in finances than progress. 

Your words were so kind. Viktor is amazing, have you met him yet? Every sponsor and socialite would know your partner to be intelligent, inventive, incredible. He doesn't compare. It's funny, how Viktor saw the same qualities in you. 

For most of the night, you were separated; Viktor was busy with the swarm of fancy patrons, all of Piltover's finest hoping to get the latest gossip on what the partner to the Man of Progress would come up with next. Luckily, the both of you chose the same hideaway to try and escape the crowd. 

"I had been waiting for such a moment- to speak with you. You offered me your congratulations. Complimented me, on my performance of the short speech you helped me to memorize. And… so clearly, I remember you said, 'I'm so proud, Viktor. But I knew you could do this.'" 

I knew you could. No underestimations, never a doubt in his potential. You believed in him, even when no-one else did. When there weren't eager investors and a fawning council, just you and him, the suffocating smog of the Undercity, and his foolish dreams. Within the gaps in between, your praises sung as loud, unbidden, echoing strums. 

He supposes he's going to have to ask again for your faith, just one more time. 

Viktor's gaze stays focused down, for a moment. Contemplative, emotional.��

"I almost kissed you right then." He glances up to you, finally. "But-" He hums, then sighs, "There were benefactors still lingering just beyond the balcony, some of which already decided to inquire extensively about my personal life. I would have hated for our first kiss to incite such a scene." 

Viktor admires the tender kindling of gentleness on your face. Slightly pained, despite the hints of softness. It's his cue to find your cheek, to hold you close and oh-so softly like he did from the start; the cliff before the waterfall, his first step in to drown with you. 

Nothing will ever return to simplicity. But Viktor refuses to regret this, decides he should face it head on. Every building conflict, these budding emotions, the remnants of how your lips felt on his; tenderly unforgettable, a crucial step that he refuses to forget. 

You can feel the slight tremble to his fingers, the calluses on his palm — 

"Vik-" 

"I need to have your trust." 

Your eyes widen. 

"Viktor," You're starting again, "You already do- you always have. I don't want you to hesitate, you can-" 

"No, no, the Hexcore," Viktor corrects. He takes a quick glance between you, and the shifting runes of his project's surface. Glowing and fluctuating, a marvel even when it is dormant. "There is much I have not yet told the council. Nor Jayce, nor you." 

A newfound flicker of conviction blazes behind his sun-bound eyes. A brightened enthusiasm to solve any puzzle he's presented with, a key twisted into a door that he never thought would open. 

Your gaze is curious, attentive, then clearly conflicted, and he feels his jaw start to tighten. In spite, he continues, speaks with his entire chest, even though his hands tremor at the thought, and his voice is much too soft and broken and he hates the sound it makes when it's breaking — 

"You are the one thing I cannot lose." Viktor holds your face lovingly, captures you in a statue-like state of devotion, as he fights against the gnawing roughness at the back of his throat. "I believe I can solve this, but I need to know that to any end, you will follow. Please." 

It's something he's already sure of, against the faint threads of doubt in his mind. Of course you would, if he was the one to ask. The both of you are knit together as endlessly as the lines that connect the constellations, he just needs to hear you say it. 

You offer him a weakened smile, your touch brushing the curve of his face like fingertips would caress the arch of a flower's petal. "Do what you think is right. I trust you." 

Viktor softens. 

There's bittersweet catharsis in finally admitting the truth, along with an endless chasm threatening to swallow him whole — and for now, for the rest of the night, at least, he wants nothing more than to fall in with you. 

"My love," He murmurs; he draws you close, with the pull of the sea to the moon. He dares to press one more faint kiss to your cheek, despite knowing how infinitely difficult it will be to pull away. "My inspiration," A kiss to the opposite cheek, then. "My little spark." 

The lab remains quiet, dark, save for the low hum, and the glowing orbit of the Hexcore. Viktor leans his head against your chest, relaxes further once you begin gently toying with his hair. And finally, fully, he allows his heavy eyes to close. 

[poguehearted77]

Just Another Cliché

Summary: Rafe has been asking to take you out for years and you always shoot him down, but after a particularly bad day, you decide things can't get much worse.

<<Here's some fluffy angst for those who need it>>

Shitty was an understatement for the day you had. This day will go down in history as the worst day any soul has ever lived through.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." The murmur is bitter on your tongue as you stuff your hands deeper into your warm pockets. The breath of your words were visible in the crisp winter air as you were about to pass by Rafe Cameron who waited patiently outside of your apartment building with a single rose just like he always did.

Since your senior year of high school, every year on the fourteenth of February, he would wait outside your complex, asking you out, then you say no, then he goes home. That's the tradition.

Well, technically you never said no. You'd always make up some excuse. 'I don't have time for a relationship right now' or 'Now's a bad time' are just a few of the examples you've used over the last five years.

It's not that there was anything wrong with him. You actually did find him attractive. Aside from the sketchy reputation he had going for him back in high school, he was still a relatively nice guy.

You just didn't have the time for a relationship, or at least you didn't before.

A small smile forms on his face as he sees you, already knowing what to expect. Another excuse like "Fine," yup, just as he thought- Wait.

"Say that again?" His head shakes in disbelief, blue eyes bulging slightly. Your shoulders shrug under your heavy-duty winter jacket. "My car was towed, then I lost my job, so why not lose my dignity too? Let's go out." You say and his heart begins to bounce off the confines of his ribs.

Not sure if it was the frosty air nipping at his cheeks or his lifetime wish finally unwrapping before his eyes, his cheeks flushed and he blinked a few times. "You won't regret this, I promise." he holds out the rose for you to take, and you finally do. For the first time in five years. You bite back a scoff, not in the mood for empty promises.

"Why haven't you given up yet?" You ask and now he places his hands in his pockets as a chilling breeze sweeps past you. He's rocking back on his heels slightly, "Life's too short to give up." The tiny smile on his face does make you scoff this time but he moves past it, "I'll text you later," is the last thing he says before he walks off.

You look down at the rose, then at his shrinking figure as he heads for the distance. A little pep in his step and you shook your head, immediately regretting your decision.

Great, this is exactly what you needed, another cliché.

-

Just another cliché is exactly what it was. On the lowest day of your life, you finally gave Rafe a chance. Of course, he changes your life in ways you couldn't imagine and leaves you with a dead weight of regret for not giving in sooner.

Your first date wasn't anything out of the ordinary, but it was fun. The two of you were inexperienced skaters failing to skate in the middle of the town square during the heart of winter. With festive lights outlining the rink where you laughed every time one of you fell.

There was even a point in time when you'd both embraced the cold connection with the ice floor and had a deep conversation on the sidelines, watching the other skaters circle the rink.

"Why me?" The question slips out before you can catch it and he licks his lips. He anticipated the query would arise eventually. "You remember that party Hailey Vanderbilt threw back in senior year?"

You hum with a nod, that was a party you'll never forget. Pool toys ended up in the trees, broken windows, jello in the hot tub, fights in the front yard and gambling in the back. "You and a few of the girls were playing truth or dare and they had dared you to start a rumour that I'd shaved my head because my family had joined some cult or some shit."

It took you a second, but the memory came back to you. "You don't know this, but I was fucking wasted behind the couch, but I'll never forget the way you stood up for me to them and refused to do it, and I dunno, I jus' think that was really cool of you." His head turns to you, his gaze softening when he looks at you.

At that moment, you felt the butterflies flap around in your stomach for the first time. He clears his throat, expression becoming more sombre as he continues. "My mom," He starts, taking a difficult swallow to get the words out.

"She was really sick. I got caught up with the wrong crowd to deal with it. Doing anything people said would get me distracted, even for a little, but she got worse and me being high every day didn't help so I quit. Her chemo was taking everything from her and eventually, she just shaved it off, she hated looking in the mirror and it killed me."

Your chest tightened at the story, having a sneaking suspicion of where this was going, "So when you shaved your head..." You trail off and Rafe nods along, turning away from you as a stray tear falls. "It was for her. You sticking up for me meant so much more than you know."

So there you both sat, on the ice with your backs against the wall in silence while the faint Christmas music chimed in the background. The date had taken a sad turn but you're glad it did, it sparked the beginning of your forever-evolving bond.

That was only the first date of many. Dozens and dozens of dates had flown past you and with each one you hated yourself a little more for letting him stand outside of your complex for five years rather than invite him inside.

"This is a nice place." He compliments as he takes a look around before settling himself on the couch with you beside him. "Thanks, it used to be a lot nicer when I could afford it. Had to sell some stuff to keep it after I lost my job."

He chuckles, "That explains why we're facing a blank wall and no television." and you pinch him. "Sacrifices had to be made. Who needs a TV anyways when there's so many other things we could do to keep ourselves busy." Your wandering hand gently runs down his firm thigh and you can feel the muscles in his leg tighten.

This was unchartered territory for you. You'd been dating for almost three months now and have never been intimate in that way, but Rafe knew the kind of person you were. A perfectionist, you need to be sure of everything before you try it.

Based on how fervently you were currently kissing along the length of his neck he could assume he had a pretty good idea of where your head was at. "Baby, baby--" He struggles to keep you at bay so he can lock eyes with you. "Are you sure about this? We don't have-" You silence him with the passionate attack of your lips against his.

Nearly tackling him onto his back, your hips straddling his as you demonstrated your certainty to him.

-

The months went on and sleepovers became more frequent. Even when Rafe had that tired look in his eye which was more often these days, you kept him up with your bright eyes and wide smile as you explained to him the newest conspiracy that intrigued you.

He tried his best to listen to what you were saying but he'd often lose himself in the labyrinth of his own mind. You were just so cute when you were talking about what you were passionate about. Especially when you wore the glasses you cursed so much, opting for contacts during the day.

"Why don't you wear your glasses more often?" He asks and you frown, "Rafee, did you hear anything I just said?" He nods, "Of course I did. I heard every last word.... up until about five minutes ago." You whine and he hugs you tight as an apology, placing a sweet kiss on your forehead.

You couldn't stay mad at him. That was proven time and time again when even your biggest fights would be resolved within 24 hours. Rafe insisted on talking things out, no matter how hurt the both of you may feel. He never wanted to go to sleep without making things right. "Life's too short," He would say.

You both had your shortcomings, but that goes without saying. Rafe was short-tempered and you were stubborn, a bad combination for an opinionated conversation. Things can quickly spiral out of control but when it came to apologies, Rafe outdid you every time. Flowers, or a small gift to show his feelings.

Even now, as Rafe leant against your kitchen island as you transferred the flowers he'd gifted you 'just because'. A weak smile graced his lips as he noted the way you did everything with such intensity, putting your all into everything you did.

Leaning forward onto his crossed forearms he watches you. "You're staring, babe." You say and he can only hum. "Can't help it. I like what I see," His words elicit a soft warmth to radiate in your chest.

"I love you, y'know that?" You're startled as you feel his arms wrapping around your waist from behind. "You tell me only every day, Rafe." He comes down to peck your cheek before you're rotating in his hold to face him. "But I love you too." You're unable to contain your smile as you say it.

It wasn't the first time but every time the words left your mouth, it gave you a little bubbly feeling. Security blossomed within you anytime your eyes grazed over his features.

"Let's go out tonight, yeah? Let's go dancing." Rafe declares without thinking and you laugh, tilting your head to look at the time over the stove. "It's almost midnight, nothing's open at this hour." You reason, but he doesn't back down.

Holding you by the hand, he twirls you. "Not a problem, we'll just do it here." That night your apartment was filled with laughter and soft jazz. Rafe hardly ever had this much energy so late but you loved it.

Two days after that night of dancing, you woke up to an eerie silence that felt too heavy for the morning. You went about your routine, still buoyed by the memory of Rafe's laughter filling your apartment. You checked your phone—just the usual notifications, a missed call from an unknown number, and a message from Sarah that simply said, "Call me."

You barely had time to press dial before she picked up, her voice trembling. She tried to speak, but only the sound of soft, choked sobs came through. Finally, she managed, "I’m so sorry…"

The words hit you, but you didn’t understand them. You wanted her to stop, to say something else—anything else. She kept speaking, her words blurred and distant, as though you were underwater, drowning. Somewhere in her explanation, you heard the words, "peacefully… in his sleep." But it didn’t feel peaceful. Your mind raced, demanding answers. Why hadn’t he told you? How long had he known?

Over the days that followed, Rafe's family gently filled in the pieces: he’d been sick for years, silently enduring, doing everything he could to hide it. Every date, every moment spent laughing with you, was a deliberate choice he made to live his last days fully, in love and joy, with you.

He hadn’t wanted you to know because he couldn't bear to see you suffer for him the same way he was once familiar with in his senior year. Even in the end, he kept the truth locked away, shielding you from the loss he knew was coming.

The weight of his choice tore you apart. You wanted to be angry, to hate him for leaving you out, but in his silence, there was also a strange kind of love. A love that had given you a few precious, unburdened moments together. Still, the pain settled deep within you, refusing to ease.

The anger, hurt, and ache became constant companions in the days that followed. But in his absence, you began to understand just how much he’d given for you.

He'd shared with you how hard it was for him to deal with that eerie state of loss. The stage where the person isn't gone but you know you'll lose them. It alters you in a messed up kind of way and he wanted you as far from that reality as possible. He was protecting you from his own condition till the very end.

Helping his family to clear out his apartment was easily the hardest thing you'd ever done. You couldn't do it without tearing up with every belonging of his you touched.

His favourite hoodie that he never let you wear but loved when you did. The polaroids in his drawer that you took from your first date, taken from the floor of the ice rink.

You noticed he'd scribbled writing on the back of the photo.

She finally said yes.

That was all it took. The last bits of your composure were stolen from you and you wept on his bedroom floor. Everyone always told you it would get easier but it never did. How could things get easier when the other half of your heart was buried six feet below the ground?

You learned to live with the loss, forcing a smile when in the company of others and taking deep breaths every morning when you woke up. Mildly disappointed the realm beyond the living hadn't reaped you during your slumber.

Very slowly, you begin to adjust to this new reality. It’s not the life you imagined, but you learn to live with the loss, carrying him with you in the smallest, most tender ways. His favourite hoodie becomes your comfort on cold nights, wrapping you in his memory and his scent.

Just because he was gone doesn't mean you'd end all of your traditions. Each year on the fourteenth of February, you visit his grave, placing a single red rose on the stone as a quiet tribute.

Though the ache remains, you hold his spirit close, carrying him forward into every milestone and memory yet to come, honouring the love you shared while finding the strength to continue onward.

In some ways, your love story turned out to be just another cliché—until it ripped your heart out from your chest, leaving you with the unbearable ache of everything he left unsaid, every unfulfilled promise, and the haunting silence of a future that will always belong to him.

Somehow, even in the quietest, most heart-wrenching moments, you never gave up on finding the silver lining, because life’s too short.

[k-dgn]

The Real Encore

Reader x Yuna Smut Word Count: 7.1k

Following the show, you sat back in your seat in a daze, dumbfounded that you had finally gotten a chance to see your favorite group Itzy live in concert. They were everything you'd hoped they'd be and more. Nothing online could have prepared you for what it would be like finally laying your eyes on them in person. Months of preparation getting right physically paid off in dividends too, as multiple members came by your side of the stage to give you all the fanservice you could have ever wanted. You believed you must have been the luckiest guy in the building as it happened more than once. Each and every member came by to dance specifically for you, and you ate it all up. It was all surreal, and you could not imagine a more perfect night. 

As the audience continued to file out of the arena, you snapped out of your daze and started gathering your things to leave. You were about to leave when a staff member from the show got your attention from across the barricade and called you over. You were a little confused because you thought that maybe you had done something wrong, but that confusion was quickly washed away when they told you that your ticket had won a "special raffle", and that you were selected to come participate in a meet & greet with the group backstage. You were ecstatic, but told to keep your cool as the staff member did not want to draw the attention of the unluckier fans and cause a scene. They guided you around to the side of the stage and took you back through a hallway leading to the backstage area. You were brought to a room where a staff member took your belongings for safe keeping while another gave you some quick paperwork to sign. You were so excited at the prospect of meeting the members that you didn't even read most of it. Once everything was set, you were told to wait for a bit until they would take you to another room to meet the girls.

They sat you down in a long hallway backstage, on a row of foldable chairs seated against a wall. The rumble of JYP and Venue staff rushing through everything, packing up the show and making sure they get done as soon as possible to be able  to head down was dizzying. There were a total of 4 chairs lined up, including yours, but so far you were the only one sitting in one. Staff kept rushing back and forth as 5 minutes of waiting turned to 10 minutes turned to 15 minutes. You wondered if it was going to take much longer, and decided to ask one of the next staff members you saw.

"Excuse me" You addressed them. "When will the special raffle event start? Are there other winners we're still waiting on?" You asked, in your politest voice, but they just looked at you confused.

"Special raffle? What special raffle?" They replied, as if asking what the fuck you were talking about. "Are you allowed to be back here?" They continued, putting you on the spot. You tried to explain that one of the staff members told you to wait here, but you had nothing to show for it.

"They're fine, I told them to wait here!" The staff member from earlier came in just in time to save your skin, with another guy you could only assume to be another concert goer going off of their outfit in tow. The staff member you asked for clarification gave you a suspicious look, but backed off, going back to their urgent tasks.

"Sorry about that." The first staff member said. "Not everyone is made aware of all events. I hope the wait wasn't too unbearable, we still had to find our other winner. But we are ready to start now!" They explained that, considering the nature of the special event raffle, it was sometimes a little harder to get all the winners in the same place. You couldn't help but notice the discrepancy in between the amount of chairs, and the amount of winners, but maybe it just meant some winners already left and lost out on their luck. Or maybe something entirely else you were yet to find out.

The two of you were then ushered further down the hall, ultimately ending at a pair of doors. These rooms were a lot more secluded, a far cry from the chaotic mess that was the staff hurriedly packing up the show back where you were previously. You and your fellow raffle winner both exchanged pleasantries as you awaited for further instructions.

"Here we are. Please wait just one more second while I check to see if they're ready to see you" the staff member explained and then turned around to knock on the door and peek their head in. They asked something in Korean, to which you could hear the female voice responding. Satisfied, the staff member then turned back to the two of you. "Okay! Now sir, if you'd please," they instructed as they opened the door and gestured the other guy to come forward. You were about to follow suit but the staff member raised a hand to stop you in place. "Just him, please. You will be meeting someone else. You made and "O" face and nodded you head. You and the other winner exchanged nervous glances before you raised a fist of encouragement. He reciprocated the gesture then turned back to the door, taking a deep breath and walking in. 

As he rounded the bend, the staff member closed the door behind him, leaving you alone and now more nervous than ever. The staff member gave you a quick smile then headed to the other door, repeating the same actions he had done with the previous room's occupant. He then turned back to you, leaving the door slightly ajar for you to enter.

"Okay, she's ready for you. Please go in when you're ready." he instructed before stepping aside. Your eyes darted between him and the door. He gave you a nod and this time it was your turn to take a moment to collect yourself. You steeled yourself before mustering enough courage to take the step through the door. You walked a bit further into the room, hearing the sound of the door closing behind you. No turning back now, you thought to yourself. As you rounded the corner, you almost froze in place. In the center of the room was a couch facing away from you, and seated right in the middle of it was a girl with bright red hair, looking down at what presumably was her phone. You thought that maybe she hadn't heard you come in because she hadn't turned to greet you, so you decided to try and get her attention. 

"Ahem...Yuna...?"

The girl's head instantly perked up and she whipped her head around to face you. It was almost like a scene from a hair product commercial the way her bright red colored locks flared out before perfectly settling along her exposed shoulders. From what you could see since she was still seated, she was wearing a spaghetti strapped white tank top. She had a huge welcoming smile on her face, complimented by her beautiful eyes which were beaming with excitement. 

"Took you long enough! Come, sit with me!" she called out.

You couldn't help but notice two things when taking in the room. The first was the faint humming of some music playing at a low volume on a speaker, posited on a table in front of the couch. You weren't sure what song it was, but you could tell it was by Blackpink. The other thing was a faint smell, attacking your senses. It wasn't pungent, but if you focused on it, it was present. It wasn't anything like any smell of any perfume you'd ever smelled before. It had no traces of floral scents or any of the like, but instead had this deep sweetness to it. It was intoxicating, and you couldn't help yourself from drifting towards it.

The shock of being in a room alone with Yuna and her addressing you so directly almost caused you to dissociate long enough to get on the nerves of Yuna who just asked you a question. It wasn't your attention to ignore her, you just needed something to focus on and ground yourself with.

"Hello?" Called out again, snapping you out of your drifting gaze. You looked right at her again, and walked around the couch, staring at you the entire time before taking your seat next to her. She was still wearing her pink skirt from the encore, matched with her black boots. All she changed out of was her top.

"Hi!" She spoke to you, very high pitched and seemingly very excited to have your attention. Even after such an exhausting show, her fanservice was out of this world.

"H-Hi..." You mumbled out through your nervousness. You hadn't ever even been close to itzy before this show, let alone win a fancall or anything of the like. Not for lack of trying, mind you. "I'm your biggest fan!" You managed to push, almost as if yelling.

"I'm glad to hear that!" She replied, equally as full of gusto as you did. She didn't skip a beat however, and her smile pierced through your body before she placed her right hand on your left thigh, the one closest to her, before continuing. "What's your name?" She asked, tilting her head to the side, stunning you further.

"Y/N." You answered, the first sentence uttered without stuttering or an added ehm since stepping into the room. "Hmmmm, Y/N huh? That's a pretty name. You know my name too, right?" She asked, dragging her words out in a playful tone, her eyes intently staring at your face as she asked you.

You weren't really sure if this was a trick question. Who would end up going to this concert without knowing her name at least? You shook off your doubts, certain she was just giving you an easy question which she could use to give more fanservice as a response. "Yeah, Yuna..." You answered, tilting your head forwards as you answered her simple question, still unable to really feel comfortable with her hand on your thigh.

The instant her name left your mouth, her face rapidly came closer to yours, she closed her eyes, and planted her lips on yours. You were in complete shock, your eyes jolted open before slowly closing, oozing into the sudden kiss by Yuna. You felt her hand squeeze your thigh a little, before she pulled away, a small string of a mix of your and her spit trailing in between both of yours underlips.

"Hmmm, your lips taste nice when you say my name, Y/N." She divulged, wiping the spit off of her lip, before looking back at you, hungry eyes, studying how you were going to react. She took this chance to reposition herself, tucking her legs underneath her and sitting on her knees facing you. You couldn't help but stare, mute in shock at what was happening. You couldn't help but notice her short skirt wasn't fit to keep herself covered in her current position facing you, and your eyes drifted downwards, but all you could see were the same pink hue of her safety shorts. This action didn't go unnoticed, as Yuna's smile turned into a smirk, busting your perverted action.

She licked her lips, as her eyes grew smaller and focused. "Don't think I didn't see that, Y/N." She berated you in a sultry, teasing tone.

"I'm sorry!" You blurted out, afraid you might have pissed the younger girl off and was about to get thrown out for it.

"No, don't be!" She responded, once more putting her right hand on you, this time on top of your left hand, which was clinging onto your pants above your left thigh. Her touch tensed you up even further, before eventually giving into the feeling of her soft hand touching yours, causing your muscles to relax. You looked at her face, no trace of anger to see, her gaze fixated on you. Your eyes meeting caused her smile to grow wider, which instinctively caused you to smile as well before Yuna continued. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours!" She said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, a cute smile on her perfect face. Your hand tightened up again.

"I'm sorry?!" You exclaimed again, unable to believe you heard what she said correctly. Is this a dream? You weren't even sure anymore, and pinched yourself, but the pain was certainly real.

"Didn't you read the contract you signed? It's a non-disclosure agreement you know. You can't talk about what happens here today, what do you think that means?" She retorted, asking you with her head tilted, and her brows gathered between her eyes, almost as if asking if you were smart enough to read.

"I skimmed it?" You replied, grimacing at admitting your own incompetence. You could see Yuna's face cringe a little bit at your answer, which caused you to further explain yourself. "I was just so excited to be here, I'd sign anything for it!"

"So you're the hot but impulsive type huh? You're lucky I think that's cute." Yuna sighed, her eyes had drifted downwards, introspectively, before taking another look at you, this time, a smile but with the faintest hint of her pitying you mixed in. Her high-pitch and tension picked up once more. "Well? What's it going to be? Wanna show me yours?" She asked. No mistaking it now. Yuna just asked to see your cock, and you couldn't help but grow rock hard just from the thought of it. Your bulge had started to show through your pants, and Yuna noticed, honing in like a predator on its prey.

"Right, yes. Yes! I'll show you." You replied, not really finding the right words, but enough words to convey the essence of your message. You started unbuckling your belt, and slowly taking off of your pants, dropping it to your ankles, leaving your underwear on. Your bulge was clearly standing upright in your pants now, and you looked at Yuna once more to make sure you weren't misunderstanding.

"Aww, don't go teasing me now, Y/N!" She replied to the inquiry made by your eyes. Your confidence surged, and you started pushing your underwear down, the rim of it clinging against the tip of your rock hard dick before snapping off, revealing the full length of your cock. You were clean shaven down there as well, as you in your delusion like almost any concert-goer, had to be prepared for the impossible. You read somewhere that the lack of a bush makes a cock look bigger, and you wanted to look like you were at peak performance.

"Now that looks delicious." She licked her lips once more, her eyes focused on your stiff cock. "You pass this round, I don't like men with small cocks." She giggled to herself, retaining her smile towards you, as if proud of her compliment.

"Mind if I...?" Yuna asked you, without finishing her sentence, but you responded having a pretty good idea of what she was going to ask. "Please do." You responded, strangely more calm then you were at any given point since setting foot inside this room. Yuna's hand glided over to your cock, and her soft hand wrapped around the base of your cock, grasping it lightly. Her hand was barely gripping at all, a soft touch wrapped around you, before she started to twist and turn her hand up and down slightly. You couldn't help but moan at her touch, before she released your cock, taking her hands back to her side.

"So, you want to see mine now? It's only fair, right?" She asked you, her head tilted slightly downwards, causing her eyes to have to look up at you sitting straight across from you. You gulped your spit down and nodded your head yes. "Alright, but I'll sweeten the deal. I'll even let you touch it if you do a couple of things for me first."

You didn't have to think even a millisecond about it before responding. "I'll do it!" You almost screamed. Yuna chuckled out loud from this, causing her to respond in kind. "You really are impulsive! Very well. The first thing I want you to do is this:" She explained, as she turned around, grabbed her phone behind her on the couch, and unlocked it with her finger before turning on the camera app and extending it towards you. You tilted your head, looking a little confused. She giggled at your failure to understand. "I want you to take a picture of me with your dick in my mouth! Lia isn't here, but she loves updates on us having fun!" She explained. Your eyes widened. Of all the things, this was not what you expected. Wow, this girl is a fucking freak, You thought to yourself, but you were definitely not opposed to it. Your hesitation caused Yuna to speak up again.

"You already said you'd do it, no backing it out now!" She exclaimed, and as if that alone wasn't enough to snap you out of your gaze, she launched herself forward, taking the tip of your dick in her mouth, and looking towards your face, holding her head still there and her eyes clearly smiling. You tilted your head backwards, facing the ceiling, getting lost in the sensations she was bombarding you with, before Yuna pinched your thigh hard, making you aware of your part of the transaction. Her eyes had turned into a scowl towards you. You snapped back, took her phone, pointed it at her face, to which her visage once more bore a big eye-central smile, posing for the camera. You clicked the photo button a couple of times, before Yuna released your cock from her mouth with a big pop.

"Let's see!" She giddily said, as she took her phone back which you gladly extended back to her. "These will do! Thank you, Y/N." she continued.

"You're welcome." You meekly responded, undeniably a little sad your cock was no longer placed in between her lips. "You said there were a couple of things. What else do you need from me?" You inquired, showing you didn't forget and were not impulsive and stupid, just impulsive.

"I haven't been able to shower today, and I don't want to leave you alone like this right now." She replied, looking at you with giant doe eyes, her lip pouting. 

"Okay?" You asked back, not really sure what she was getting at. She smirked at you, then lifted both her hands above her head, exposing her cleanly shaved armpits to you.

"Can't you please clean me up, Y/N?" She asked of you, an irresistible charm in her pleading voice. She wasn't saying it outright, but you believe you knew what she wanted. Or rather even if you were wrong, if she wasn't going to be clear you were going to take your chance to do what you wanted to do.

You brought your head closer to her, inching towards her armpit, as one question from earlier started forming an answer. This deep, slightly sweet smell you found earlier was coming from Yuna. Now inching closer to her, she seemed to still be glistening a bit from fresh sweat still on her. The smell was intoxicating, and you looked at her face before continuing any further, and she had a big smile on her face, urging you to go on.

You extended your tongue outward, touching her armpit, causing her to stifle a small moan, before licking up her sweat. You had never done this before, but you were hooked. The taste was sweet, slightly salty, and her skin tasted refined. One lick turned into two, turned into 4, turned into 10, before moving onto her other armpit, licking that one equally clean as the other, motivating Yuna's moans, until you were certain you hadn't missed a single spot.

"Thank you, Y/N, I feel a lot better now." She admired your willingness. You licked your lips, your eyes now fiercely intent on hers, before you made your first unprompted comment of the night.

"You are fucking delicious, Yuna." You told her, admiring her taste, letting her know you probably enjoyed what you just did more than her. She blushed a little from this, before snapping out of it, and regaining her bubbly, refined aura.

"Well, a deal is a deal!" She giggled at you, her head at 45 degrees, her eyes closed in two half moons and her mouth a big smile. She started pushing off her skirt, attached to her safety shorts, revealing another shocking truth about her. She was wearing no underwear, and she now sat on her knees across from you, legs slightly pushed open as if to lure you in, her clean shaven pussy exposed for you to see.

Your cock throbbed, the sight of such a perfect and pink pussy begging to be devoured by you was almost too much to bear. Your cock grew just that tiny bit more, pulsing, looking ready to burst.

"Oh, you were holding out on me? No fair, Y/N!" Yuna exclaimed, posing one hand over her mouth and using the other to playfully tap you on your shoulder with her other hand.

"I can't help it! Seeing such a delicious pussy, anyone would want to dive right in." You fired back, finding yourself in this erotic groove, growing in confidence. Yuna giggled in response to your admiration. She looked back at you, her eyes ready to devour you, before speaking up again.

"I haven't..." she said, in a soft, whispering voice, having that high-pitched pleading cadence to it. Her eyes started looking down at her own knees, avoiding your eyes. Her knees started to part more ever so slightly, exposing more of her privates. "Been able to clean her either." She finished her sentence before looking back up at you with her head tilted downwards, almost as if begging for you. "Could you please clean me up here as well, Y/N?" She requested of you, her cute charm overwhelming all your senses. She bit her lip at you, sending you over the edge.

You smirked, one corner of your lips arching upwards, before getting up from the couch. You stood in front of her, your cock pointing towards her at her chest level, and before you even had the chance to lower yourself towards her, the girl had leaned forwards, her tongue licking the tip of your dick. Her tongue curled upwards and inwards into her mouth. She proceeded to look up at you, opening her mouth wide and sticking her tongue out with a loud "aaaaaah", showing the strings of pre-cum she had licked up which had been dripping out of your cock because of her provocations.

"You'll have to be clean too for what we do next, Y/N!" She exclaimed proudly, gulping down your liquid while you grew a devious smile. Yuna give your dick a quick peck before telling you "You can continue now, Y/N." You quickly got lost in the thought of grabbing her hair in two pigtails and fucking her face,  but you knew better than to throw away your chances at whatever could happen next here for such a risky play. You lowered yourself onto your knees, placing your hands underneath both of her thighs, and lifting the girl's underside up as to get both her legs off of the couch, and hanging off the edge, as to position yourself in between them. You pulled them apart, giving yourself a clear view of her entrance, causing her to coo at your assertiveness, and pushing her own hips forward for you.

You brought your face ever closer to her pussy, inching towards her. She was wet down there, but not drenched. You picked up another spark of her scent, the same tinge of sweetness but mixed in with a more organic, earthy smell. It was even more intoxicating than the smell of her sweat. You opened your mouth, close to her labia and breathed out onto her, your warm breath causing her to shudder in anticipation. You still felt the sensation of her kiss on your dick, and decided to return the favor. You purse your lips, planting a kiss over top of her clit. Yuna's soft vocalization of a satisfied "hmmmm" let you know you were on the right track, starting slow, and warming up over time.

You stopped the kiss, looked up at Yuna's face, who was staring back at you intensely, her eyes pleading for you to continue. No more words needed to be said, and smirked, reaching your tongue out, flicking it upwards over her clit. Yuna's legs twitched, her eyes jolted shut and her knees buckled around your head, tightening her thighs around your skull. You flicked your tongue again, and now having warmed Yuna up were mostly just rewarded with moans. You picked up your pace, and swapped your flicks from horizontal, to vertical, to letters. Her hands found her way to your hair, and grasped firmly around strands she managed to find, holding on tight to you. 

Yuna's breathing had grown labored, but she still managed to push some words out. "Don't you DARE... fucking stop...!" She moaned out, and you didn't dare defy her command. Your hands grasped her thighs where they could, squeezing tight, as you unleash your final assault. You pursed but your lips around her clit, sucking on it, getting it into your mouth and nibbling on it ever so softly with your teeth. This mixture of pleasure and pain seemed to send Yuna over the edge, as her back arched away from the couch, and her feet lifted up from the floor, her moans rising in pitch as you felt her entire body convulse.

You'd forgotten to breathe for the final part of that, and pulled your head back, gasping for big breaths of air. Yuna slowly opened her eyes, un-arching her back and leaning forwards. Her both hands cupped both sides of your face, squishing your cheeks as she leaned ever closer, licking her lips on her way to you. She kissed you another time on your lips, her lips firmly pressed against yours, before you felt her tongue entering your mouth. You pressed your tongue slightly against hers, wrapping around hers, coiling and twisting in wet ecstasy. Yuna pulled away from the kiss, and stared down at you with a big smile, but her eyes turned totally vixen.

"Hmmm, your lips taste nice when you've made me cum, Y/N." Yuna spoke seductively. You couldn't help but be overwhelmed with desire for this night to never end.

"Your lips taste nice when you're cumming, Yuna." You retorted, turning her own script on her. She giggled, before regaining her posture. She held out both her hands palm upwards, inviting your hands onto hers. You followed her guidance and placed your hands in hers, and she took firm grasp helping you stand up. She crossed her legs in front of you, denying further access to her. She pointed over to a chair with a bag sitting on it.

"Could you go and grab a condom from there, please?" She requested of you. Your mind raced. She hadn't needed a condom before when touching your dick with her hand or mouth. This had to meant you two were going to fuck, right?  Your excitement causes you to do as told without any questioning, turning your back on her and moving towards the bag. It was filled with Yuna's personal items, but you didn't take long to find a condom. You pulled one out, turning around to move towards Yuna again. This time, she surprised you once more, having removed her top, sitting on the couch waiting for you fully nude, her legs crossed and arms spread, leaning on the head of the couch beside her, exposing her pink nipples for you to admire.

Your mouth fell agape, admiring her every curve, curves that had been the subject of tons of speculation they were fake. If you had your phone with you know, you'd have saved the evidence they were all wrong in a heartbeat. You failed to comment anything on her appearance, being dumbfounded by her beauty, which caused her to raise one eyebrow at you, prodding you for a response. Your lack of vocal response causes Yuna to stand upright, her legs crossing over each other, causing her hips to sway, as she walks over towards you. Both her hands reach for your hips as she gets closer, grasping the edges of your shirt, the last piece of clothing you were wearing, and giving it a soft pull upwards. You got the hint, and lifted your arms up, allowing Yuna to take your shirt off, throwing it to the side.

"So what, you're not going to tell me how pretty I am?" Yuna teased you, shaking her head from side to side.  You snapped back to reality, and quickly thought of the best thing to say to remedy this situation.

"You have to be one of the most beautiful women to roam this earth." You spouted out in a panic, causing Yuna to have to hold back her laugh in response to your compliment. Yuna looked at you, and you weren't sure if it was lovingly or pitifully, but it was only for you, and that's all you seemed to care about.

"That's certainly a unique compliment. Calm down, babe. You're doing great, I'm not going to just randomly kick you out." Yuna reassured you, taking the condom out of your hands, placing her teeth on the edge of a corner of the wrapping, tearing it off, pulling it out and figuring out which way was inside out. You couldn't help but have your entire being flutter from her calling you babe, and her reassurance did wonders for you to relax.

"Thank you. You won't regret picking me." You responded, your eyes meeting hers filled with conviction, showing Yuna her words had worked. She smirked at your newfound confidence, handed you the condom, gave you a smile and posed you with a question. "So, how do you want to fuck me?" You accepted the condom, started wrapping it over your dick and gave some thought to her question.

"Hmmmm." You consciously vocalized out loud, making sure Yuna knew you were considering your options, and were not just too stunned to speak. You looked around the room, and couldn't help but focus your attention on the giant make-up mirror against the wall of the room, drawing your attention before being gifted with an idea. In one smooth motion, you picked Yuna up, carrying her bridal style over towards the make-up mirror. Your sudden heroics caused the unexpecting girl to yelp out in surprise, shocked at the sudden shift or impact her words had seemed to have in unlocking your boldness. She quickly held on tight however, enjoying your display of strength.

You planted your right arm firmly under her knees, freeing your hand and using it to toss the chair in front of the mirror to the side, freeing up all of the space in front of it. Yuna licked her lips at the performance you were putting on, and as soon as you put her down facing you in front of the mirror, she decided that this time it was her turn to hold you tight instead of you holding her tight. Her hand had found her way over to your cock, wrapping tightly around it, slowly stroking it back and forth while looking you into your eyes. Her head nodded in the same rhythm as her hand stroked you, causing your breathing to become louder. You weren't about to stop this momentum with a light handjob, and put your both hands on her shoulders, turning her around to face the mirror.

"I'm going to show you just how pretty you look when I'm fucking your brains out, babygirl." You shot back, taking the initiative on the teasing. Yuna's eyes were big, surprised from you spinning her around, and you could see them clearly in the reflection of the mirror. Upon hearing your provocation, she smirked back at you, as if to challenge you. Her eyes were clearly expecting great things from you, but her mouth made it even clearer, asking you to "make me fucking scream." She places her arms onto the counter of the makeup table in front of the mirror, stabilizing herself, arching her back for you as if she knew what to expect.

Your hands planted themselves firmly onto her wide hips, grasping her tightly with your fingers digging into her skin. You pulled her ass a little closer to you, causing her to arch her back further towards you, to which she playfully accepted and wiggled her hips at you, as if to invite you in. You placed your gift-wrapped cock against her mound, sliding it slowly up and down her entrance. You were teasing her, waiting for her to grow impatient for your moment to strike. Her smirk eventually turned into a frown, waiting for you to put yourself inside of her.

"Stop teasing me, Y/N. Start fu-" she had started to say, intending to finish her sentence with "cking me!". Unfortunately for her, you felt like the perfect time to strike would be right as she started saying fuck, causing her voice to grow louder, and scream out further with "UUUUUUUUUUUUUCK". You slammed your hips against her ass with full force, jamming the entire length and girth of your cock into her petite, drenched with anticipation, pristine pussy. Her eyes rolled back into her head, feeling the warmth of your cock pulse inside of her, and you weren't about to let up. Her moans were varying in pitch, her breathing unable to keep up with her voice, as you pulled your cock back until only the tip remained, instantly slamming back into her wet cunt.

"Ugh, ungghh nghhh, FUCK." Yuna kept moaning, unable to lower her voice, and you began to wonder whether or not she'd be heard outside of this room. She was beginning to hunch forward, unable to support herself through your rough slamming of her thin body, so you decided to take a chance and lend her a hand. You moved your left hand from her hips over to her stomach, pulling it closer to you, and your right hand all the way up, around her neck. You put some light pressure on the sides of her neck, before gripping her towards you, and into your body. You placed your head right next to hers, pulling her upwards to you, her arms now too far away from the make-up table to reach, causing her eyes to open, looking surprised at what was happening. She looked into your eyes through the mirror, and you whispered into her ears.

"I promised you I would show you how pretty you looked, so look. I want you to see the goddess that I see when I'm fucking you." you growled in a low, whispering voice, commanding her to follow your lead. She purred, biting her underlip and nodding slowly at you, looking straight ahead as you released the tension on your elbow, continuing to hold your hand around her neck but supporting her arch as you resumed your pounding. You enjoyed the feeling of control you had over her body in this position, but you couldn't help but feel that a slight shift could give you even more access to her weak spots. Her arms were dangling behind her, grabbing onto whatever part of you she could hold on to, but you had better usage in mind for them. You moved your left hand from her stomach onto her left wrist, grabbing it firmly, and once holding tight, did the same with your right. You had stopped pounding for these few seconds to properly get everything in place, causing the girl to look at you through the mirror and ask you "What's wrong? Why did you stop, babe?"

Her calling you babe again ignited something deep inside of you, and you addressed her concern. "I'm going to start really fucking you now." You touted, like a stone-cold killer wanting to intimidate their target. Her eyes panicked, darting to meet yours.

"What do you mean, really fucking me? Hey, wait, what do you-" She tried to ask of you, her arms now bent back behind her as you pulled on them, before you cut her off, slamming your cock so hard inside of her she stumble forwards, her hips getting pressed against the high make-up table, forcing her to lower her stomach onto it, which pulled back into a beautiful curved arch. The tension you forced upon her pushed all the air out of her lungs as she heaved and moaned out of pleasure, still looking at your and her reflection in the mirror. Her mouth was wide open, her tongue clearly showing, as the tip of her eyebrows pushed together into her forehead. She was trying to say something but having trouble pushing it out.

"Cu-... Cum! Fuck, cumming!" She yelled as loud as she could, and you felt her tight walls gripping your cock, making moving harder. Her hips moved upwards, as she was now standing on her toes, her legs trembling through your relentless siege of her womb, but you gave her no reprieve. You kept pounding, even picking up the pace when you felt her cum, like a man possessed by her sex-fueled body. You kept increasing the tension on her arms, pulling her back further and further.

"Nghhh, you're gonna... fucking... break my back! FUCK, ngghhh, don't! Don't stop OHHH" She moaned, her voice cracking as she begged you to continue. You hadn't cum yet, and you had no intention of stopping before you did. You were getting close and Yuna felt it. She used whatever force she had left in her body to push her hips into yours, grinding your cock up and down while you pounded deeper and deeper.

"Fuck, Yuna, I'm gonna cum for you!" You grunted out, moaning behind her, feeling your climax near. Her eyes elated, a slight smile formed, instantly pounded away into submission by your cock, before Yuna started pleading with you.

"Cum for me! Cum deep inside me please! PLEASE please please please-" She begged, a submissive little slut begging for your seed, which was just enough to send you over the edge. You didn't want to cum without her however, and decided to make one last play before reaching the finish line. You leaned forwards, playing on the knowledge you had gotten from what she liked earlier this evening, opening your mouth and protruding your tongue, licking her spine from as far down to the base you could move upwards. She started twitching upon feeling your spit on her back, soon followed by her legs twitching and her pussy tightening. If this wasn't enough to tell you your gamble was a success, her screaming "Yes!" sure was. Your cock pulsed, shooting load after load into the condom inside of her, her walls vibrating rhythmically, as you took in this sensation, almost unable to keep yourself standing during.

After you came, you pulled out of her and took a few steps back. Yuna was now standing on her toes, her entire upper body laying on the make-up table, and her head had turned to face you, but her eyes were momentarily closed. You took in the sight of the half-passed out, fucked silly girl, before dropping back into the couch, taking a seat and a much needed breather.

Yuna had heard you falling down onto the couch, causing her to open her eyes and look towards you. She picked herself up with whatever strength she had, stumbling towards you and falling down onto the couch next to you. She was laying on her stomach, her ass up, red from you crashing into her.

She tilted her head upwards and looked at you, satisfied with your performance and proud of herself for picking you out. Her feet were up in the air, kicking like a giddy schoolgirl, before forming a circle with her left thumb and index finger wrapping around the part of the condom dividing your tip and your cum. She squeezed tight, cutting off any flow, then pulled the condom off of your dick carefully so as not to leak a single drop of cum. She tied a knot at the bottom of the condom to make sure its contents were safe. You looked on as she did this, while her eyes focused on your groin, impressed with the fact that she still had any energy left.

"A souvenir to remind me of you." She murmured, loud enough for you to hear, before grabbing a Ziploc bag and pen that had been lying on the table all evening long, placing your condom inside and writing your name in it and zipping it closed.

"Thank you." You spoke up to her, still unable to believe any of this happened. "This was a once in a lifetime experience for me." You continued, grateful to have been given this chance. Yuna looked back up at you, her head ever so slightly tilted sideways, puzzled at your remark.

"Are you coming to any of our other shows?" She asked you in response, suddenly changing the topic.

"Ehm, actually, I'm coming to see you at your show in two days as well." You replied back ever so confused. You thought she must have felt burdened by your remark and just wanted to get this over with while still being polite.

She smirked the same devious smile you gave her when you pounded the life out of her, and in less than a second had thrown her entire mouth over your cock, her tongue wrapping around your shaft from tip to base, sucking and slurping hard, licking every inch before releasing you with a pop.

"You'll have to be clean for that show too." She taunted you, her voice daring, playful and bubbly all at the same time. "And I wouldn't be so sure about that ‘once in a lifetime’ part." She smiled seductively, her eyes wide open staring deep into your soul. "Your dick tastes nice after you've made me cum, after all."

[heathermason6060]

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader Smut: Matchmaker Merle

Warnings: slight drug use, mentions of Lori, Daryl is a virgin, Shane being Shane, No use of Y/N, unprotected sex

Summary: Merle tries to get Daryl laid with an old family friend. Apparently, Merle is a master matchmaker? Buildup to smut. 

Notes: Sorry for having the buildup so slow, I'm really bad at porn without at least a LITTLE plot lmao

You were allowed a little leeway your first day at camp. Glenn had found you, confused and lost, covered in dirt and blood after the bombs had gone off and separated you from your friends and family. You were on the highway, like everyone else, but as soon as they saw the city being lit up, all hell broke loose. They started acting like animals. Running and screaming, looting. The dead coming back to life didn't help much either. 

On your second day, you were expected to start pitching in. You didn't mind helping, it was the way Shane approached you that rubbed you the wrong way. You offered to help hunt, fish, and go out looking for supplies, but he just laughed at you. He laughed like you were a child asking for a gun. He handed you a brush and sat you down beside Carol, who was washing clothes at the bottom of the quarry. 

You found comfort in familiarity. Which came in the form of something extremely unexpected, Merle Dixon. Maybe it was because you'd seen each other a few times at the corner store back near where you lived, maybe it was the fact he had respect for your folks, but when you were taken back to camp he didn't treat you the way he treated the other women. 

He wasn't respectful or chivalrous by any means, but he didn't treat you like a piece of meat. He didn't constantly try to get in your pants or speak to you in that slimy demeaning way he had with Andrea or Amy. You were grateful for it, even if you did catch him staring at your ass more than once, because he was the one thing that made you feel a little more at home with the group.

You'd never met his brother before. You'd seen him once, at the small mechanic shop near the corner store you'd occasionally see Merle in. Rednecks were anything but rare where you grew up, but something about Daryl felt different. He was quieter, more of Merle's shadow than his own person. But you knew just by looking at him that he was anything but somebody's shadow.

He saw you on your second day, after you'd done your morning “chores” and went to sit next to the campfire. He was carving something, maybe a bolt for his crossbow, and he barely looked up when you sat down across from him. 

Daryl looked up again, a spark of recognition in his eyes. His voice, strong and firm, called your name as if it was a question. 

“Yes?” You could see the exact moment the realization clicked that he did in fact remember you.

He didn't know much about you at all. He knew Merle knew your folks, and you lived pretty close, but he'd never actually spoken to you before. 

He did like to watch you, though, you'd always go into the corner store next to the mechanic shop and buy a coke and a bag of chips at lunch. He thought you were the prettiest woman he'd ever seen. Merle had a different set of words he'd prefer to use for you, but Daryl thought they felt too nasty. You weren't white trash, you were pretty, out of place, and the words ‘hot piece of ass' just didn't fit you. 

“Shit. Didn't think it was you when they said your name yesterday.” His fingers absentmindedly rubbed the length of his stick, looking over you a few times as he tongued the inside of his cheek in thought. “Huh. You seen Merle yet?” 

“Yeah, I got here yesterday morning.” You answered, the day before Daryl had been gone most of the day hunting. By the time he got back you were already in your new tent, something that Glenn had made sure to pick up when he brought you back to his group. 

“What happened? Your folks alright?” He asked, knowing it was strange for you to be here without your family and friends. 

“I have no idea. Don't remember much. We were real close to the city when the bombs went off, all I remember is fire and screaming and I woke up in the back of a gas station.” 

He nodded again, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he listened. 

Daryl wanted to stay with you, talk for a while, having a familiar face made him feel like less of an outsider. But from the corner of his eye he saw Shane with his hands on his hips in that stupid pose he liked to do when he was about to give someone  attitude. Daryl looked back to you and gathered his crossbow and bolts, muttering a quick excuse about needing to go hunt and that he'd see you around. He couldn't stand Shane, he'd only known him for a few weeks, give or take, and he was doing everything he could to avoid the wife fucker. 

Shane gave you a talking to that evening, warning you about the “backwoods rednecks”, even though you knew it wasn't out of the kindness of his heart. It was just another way to control the people in his camp, something he got off on doing. He didn't trust either of the Dixon brothers, that was for certain, but going out of his way to ‘warn’ you? It took everything in you to just nod and say okay. 

“When you gonna tap that, baby brother?” Merle's voice and the way he said it made Daryl cringe. He needed to do a better job about not staring at you so blatantly. 

“Not my type.” Daryl lied through his teeth, picking another strip of stringy squirrel meat from the stick he'd used to roast it over the fire. 

The Dixon brothers usually had a smaller, separate fire away from the main groups. It was mostly Merle's idea, he'd tell Daryl ‘they're not like us, keep your distance, we're just redneck trash to them.’. Not that Daryl gave a shit. He mostly thought the same anyways. 

You were at the group fire, sitting beside Andrea and Amy, who were busy chattering about how they wished they could catch some fish instead of surviving off tree rats and canned peas. You didn't mind it, even though you preferred larger game, meat was meat. You ate your squirrel like it was a gourmet dinner, something Daryl took note of.

“Not your type? Hah! That's bullshit and we both know it. She's everybody's type, boy, you better get on that before someone else does.”

Daryl wasn't sure who Merle was referring to. Glenn could barely speak to women, T-Dog was far too respectful, Shane was so far up Lori’s ass he had shit in his ears. (That's so gross I'm so sorry) 

The sound of harsh sniffing had Daryl looking away from you and back to his brother. He wiped the white residue from his nose and offered Daryl his large knife, containing another line. 

“Nah. I'm good.” Daryl waved him off, not feeling like being on uppers around all these people. Made his temper even shorter than it already was. “Careful with that shit, if Shane sees-”

“He ain't gonna do shit about it. I'd like to see him say somethin’.” The fact Merle was always looking for an excuse to butt heads had Daryl on edge. “Take it, and go take her off in the woods before I do.” 

It never took too much demanding from Merle before Daryl would give in. It was a fatal flaw in his character. He looked up to him and whatever he said went, even when he didn't really want to. So he took the coke and worked up the nerves to talk to you. 

You'd just finished washing everyone's stupid dirty dishes and went into the woods to piss when you saw Daryl again. You gasped as you walked around the tree you'd used for cover and saw him walking through the treeline, worried he'd seen you. But he was too focused on his steps, and that put you at ease. 

You walked up the half-assed trail to meet him, not feeling like chatting next to your pee puddle. 

“Hey, you going hunting?” You asked, slipping your hands in your shorts pockets. 

He shook his head as he reached you, snatching a stray stick out of his hair. “Goin’ down to some of the old shops down the road. Tired of all these canned peas. You comin’?”

You eagerly nodded, happy to be away from the group. They were nice enough, but since you normally hung around Merle, they treated you as someone they didn't fully trust. Especially Lori, Shane and Dale. The amount of times you caught Lori staring daggers into you every time you were within ten feet of Carl was starting to drive you insane. 

“Been wanting to get out and do something for days. Can't fucking stand Shane's micromanaging.” You said as you walked, wishing you would've known you'd be going on an impromptu supply run. You only had your knife, you'd prefer to have your Ruger your father had given you. It was in the RV, where Shane had taken it to ‘clean’. You were more than suspicious that he just didn't want you carrying a gun around camp. 

Daryl snorted. “Yeah. Can't stand that asshole. What kinda man-” He stopped himself, shaking his head. 

“What?” You looked over at him, careful not to trip on the multiple storm blown  branches from the larger trees. 

“Nothin’. Just don't like ‘em.” 

You were silent for a few minutes as you thought of something to say. You know, in apocalypse type situations, you mainly think about securing your next meal, how to not get killed in your sleep, how to protect your friends and family. But here you were, trying to think of what to say to a man you were steadily growing attracted to. You always thought he was cute before this, but seeing how capable he was, how he was so sure of himself, it was a side to him you didn't expect. It was like he was one of those people always secretly hoping for an excuse to go live in the woods and live in anarchy. 

“How attached are you to this group?” He asked, catching you off guard. 

“Not at all. Can't stand most of them. Why?” 

“Just thinkin’ about leavin’. Don't belong here with these people. Lori screamed at a damn snake the other day and got the kids all riled up.” He had a visible look of distaste on his face. Of all things to scream your head off at in an apocalypse, wildlife wasn't on your list. 

“Are you asking me to come?” You asked, unsuccessfully attempting to hide your excitement. The idea of splitting off with the Dixon brothers seemed your best bet, even if Merle was, well, Merle. You knew you were probably one of the only women on earth that didn't have to worry about him constantly trying to get in your pants. What you didn't know though, was that he was trying his damnedest to get his little brother laid, even if you were the daughter of a family friend. 

“Yeah. You don't belong here either.” You didn't know if it was true or not, but it felt true to you. 

“Sure. As long as I'm not gonna be a burden, or anything.” You knew you'd need to rely on the two of them for protection and some food, at least until you got used to your new life. You adapted fairly quickly. 

“Wouldn't’ve asked if you were.” 

“Alright, well, if you make up your mind, let me know.”

You arrived at the first store, a small gas station much like the one the two of you used to frequent back then. It was fairly untouched, but you knew it wouldn't be that way for long. 

You broke into a bag of jerky, thankful it was Daryl with you and not anyone else. If someone gave you a speech on taking care of the group before yourself you might just take off on your own without Daryl. 

He scored a bunch of chips, some cup noodles, and a 6 pack of beer for Merle. 

Instead of going back like you'd originally planned, you talked each other into going further off down the road to an old Dollar General. You stored your stash in a hollowed out log next to the road so you wouldn't need to carry it the entire time and carried on. 

“This was a great idea.” Your tongue was stained red from sour patch kids, you went through five bags and gave Daryl the greens and yellows. 

Daryl licked the sour crystals from his fingertips and grunted in agreement, tossing the empty bag over his shoulder off the roof that the two of you had gone up to to indulge in your spoils. 

You laid on your back and sighed, surrounded by empty snack bags and wrappers. “Fuck. I needed this.” Neither of you cringed at your corny comment, because although a cliche, you really, really did need this. 

Daryl hadn't eaten much besides the gummies, thanks to being pressured into taking the coke by Merle. He cursed himself for it, wishing he had the nerve to just say no and stick with it. 

He glanced over at you, your body orange in the light of the setting sun. You still wore those cute short Bobbie Brooks shorts he'd always seen you wearing around town. His eyes drifted to your legs and he let out a soft exhale, wishing he was as silver tongued as he thought his brother was. Even if the ladies rarely appreciated Merle's filthy flirting, he had to admit his one liners were pretty impressive sometimes. 

You opened your eyes and used your hand as a shield from the sun to look at him. You'd barely caught him staring at your legs, and felt a smile tug at your lips. 

“You wanna fool around?” You half joked, prepared to laugh if he turned you down. But the look on his face told you he really, really didn't want to turn you down. 

He froze for a moment, his eyes looking anywhere but you, his heart hammering against his chest. His thoughts ran frantic, from Merle telling him to have sex with you, and to you, who he was terrified to have sex with. He was suddenly very grateful for the coke he'd taken, and it clicked in his mind why Merle had been so insistent on him taking it. He knew he wouldn't last three minutes without it. 

“You serious?” He asked, his brows knitted tightly together from the sun and in concentration as he read your face. 

“Yeah, why not?” You shrugged, sitting upright so you didn't have to keep squinting up at him. You looked cool on the outside, but on the inside you were barely holding it together. You'd never thought of Daryl this way before, given you'd only seen him once before all this, but now that you were, it felt like you were about to potentially have sex with the hottest man on earth. 

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” 

Awkward was an understatement. Daryl didn't know what to do with his hands. His dick had been hard off and on the whole trip with you, despite the coke. He didn't know what would feel good to you, something he found himself oddly concerned with. His only experience with women was watching them getting fucked in porn, so he tried it that way. 

Your eyes widened in surprise when he quickly turned and leaned over you, his hands slipping up your shirt. He choked out a gasp, looking down at the outline of his hands as he squeezed your tits. You were caught off guard by his sudden boldness, and the way he was roughly groping your chest wasn't helping. You grimaced, about to tell him to ease up, but he caught your mouth in an unexpected kiss before you could speak. 

You were way too horny to care about how messy his kissing was. Truthfully, it was pretty hot, filled with so much desire and lust that it didn't matter he was inexperienced. The fact he was this eager just because of you had you moaning into his mouth. 

He took that as a sign he was doing something right and rolled your nipples between his fingers, doing what felt right. He pinched them, making you gasp against his lips, and he couldn't hide the crooked grin from his face. He pulled back just long enough to start unbuttoning your shirt. 

You took over for him, not wanting him to get impatient and rip off one of your only good shirts. When his eyes landed on your chest he whimpered, he fucking whimpered! You groaned at the sound and pulled him back against you by his shoulders, sinking your head into the crook of his neck to kiss the skin there. 

He hadn't expected you to do anything to him. In the videos he watched, most of the time the dude just rips her clothes off and fucks her in different positions for half an hour while she screams and moans like she's hurt. He hated that sound, the over exaggerated noises, he much preferred the noises you made. 

You laid down on your back, grateful the sun had sunk below the tips of the trees so it wasn't so bright anymore. He was on you in a second, now kissing your neck, eager to give you the same pleasure you were making him feel. The moan that rumbled in your chest made his heart jump, knowing he was doing something right. 

“God, s’so good.” You exhaled lazily, your eyes closing as he used his knee to kick your thighs apart for his waist. He quickly ground against you, a stifled groan stuck in his throat at the feeling of friction. 

“Take ‘em off.” He demanded, tugging impatiently at your shorts before he went to unbuckle his belt. You happily obliged, unbuttoning your shorts and dragging them down your thighs. 

When Daryl saw your lacy red panties he shivered. At camp, most of the underwear he saw hanging up were more… practical? The women had quickly changed their lace panties and thongs for boy shorts, but here you were, the skin around your hips indented obscenely from the way they hugged you like magic. 

“Fuck.” He exhaled deeply, his forehead resting against yours as he looked down at your body under his. He was really, really glad Merle gave him coke. Just the sight of you mostly naked under him had his cock throbbing painfully.

He finished with his pants, only pulling them down enough to drag his leaking dick out, his jaw dropping when he saw you shimmying out of your panties. His head spun, his mouth watered, and before he could even think he was scooting down to plant his face between your legs. 

You gasped, your head falling back against the rough flooring of the roof. He was so eager., so heartbreakingly eager to please you, it had your pussy so wet it was almost unbearable. His hot tongue was sloppy, inaccurate, it couldn't decide where it wanted to be. He'd be licking broad stripes one second, and the next he was swirling it around your clit. You were beginning to think maybe he wasn't as inexperienced as you believed. 

Daryl learned all he knew about sex from porn. If there was one thing he was fascinated about, it was giving head. One of the first things he always wanted to do was eat out a woman. He never thought it would be someone as hot as you. 

He tried everything he knew that made the women in videos moan, and to his surprise, you moaned the most when he kept it simple and just sucked your clit. So he did that, hollowing out his cheeks and sucking it into his mouth to roll his tongue around. 

You were in shambles. You tried desperately to pull at his hair, but it was too short to grab so you settled on sinking your nails into his scalp as you rolled your hips against his face and tried not to be so loud. 

Your jaw dropped and your eyes squeezed shut when he dug his tongue into the side of your clit, dragging your orgasm out so unexpectedly that you gasped. 

“Fuck, oh, oh god!” You sputtered, your thighs squeezing his head to hold him there as you came, your back arching and your toes curling so hard your foot almost cramped up. 

Daryl slipped his hand under him and grabbed his cock, stroking it as he felt your body tremble and jerk under him. He was sure this was a dream, he'd wake up any second in his tent with Merle snoring beside him and you all the way across camp. He squeezed his dick, milking the precum from his tip as your thighs finally relaxed. 

“My god. You're really good at that.” You panted, your eyes blurry as you watched him slide up your body and take its place on top of you. 

He grinned, knowing you were unintentionally starting to give him an ego. “Yeah?” He racked his brain for dirty talk, but since it was fried from making you cum, all he could come up with was “I got somethin’ I'm even better at.” Complete lie. 

You, on the other hand, had no idea he was a virgin, and grinned widely at the implications, shifting your body up till you felt his heavy cock graze against your inner thigh. The feeling alone sent a bolt through your body, and your chest heaved with deep excited breaths. 

He leaned up and grabbed your shoulder, signaling for you to turn over. You didn't question it and rolled over, propping yourself on your hands and knees. 

The sight of you from behind had him falling apart. He let out a quiet whimper and bit his bottom lip before grabbing his cock and scooting forward to push it against you. 

“Jesus, so fuckin wet.” He breathed, his heart beating so loud he could hear the blood in his ears. He slid his dick between your folds, going through all the steps in his head that he'd seen countless times. He even slapped it against your pussy a few times, missing the amused expression on your face, and pushed himself into you. 

What Daryl  didn't learn from porn was that usually, you go in slow when someone hasn't had sex recently. So when he just pushed his dick inside you with no hesitation you cried out, the burn from the unprepared stretching making you jolt forward. He grabbed your hips to bring you back against him, his jaw going slack as he felt your hot wet walls squeezing the life out of him. 

“Fuck!” You spat, the burning and stabbing pain almost enough to turn you off completely. “You gotta be slower than that, Daryl.” 

He was too deep to process what you said. He finally let out the breath he'd been holding with a deep, guttural groan, still frozen inside you. “Sah-Sorry.” He sputtered, his hands squeezing your hips so hard you knew for a fact there'd be ten little light purple bruises there tomorrow. 

Before you could say or do anything else he started moving, setting the pace quickly, snapping his hips against your ass so roughly your hands almost slipped out from under you. The uncomfortable stretch quickly faded into a deep, primal pleasure, and soon you were letting out short moans with every thrust of his hips. 

You barely got used to the feeling before he grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked it back, drawing a cry from your throat. You weren't expecting this from Daryl, he was so confident, so rough, it confused you but drove you absolutely wild at the same time. 

His other hand kept its tight grip on your hip, pulling you back to meet each of his demanding thrusts, making sure his dick went as deep as possible each time. The way you were moaning and gasping fueled him to fuck you rougher, wanting to hear every sound that you were possible of making. 

“Dirty little whore.” He grunted, his jaw aching from how hard he'd been clenching his teeth. 

His words earned a strangled whimper from you, making his lips curl up in a cocky grin. 

He fucked you for a while like that, hips pounding against your ass so hard that the noises of your skin slapping was making your cheeks burn in embarrassed arousal. So much for keeping it quiet. 

“Hey-” The words were hard to get out from his aggressive thrusts, especially now that he was hunched over your body so he could squeeze your breasts. “I- wanna turn over.” 

He raised his chest from your back and took the opportunity to catch his breath while you shifted under him to roll over on your back. The look on your face made him shudder with a quiet gasp. Your face was tinted a light red, blissed out, your pupils blown and hair all messed up around your face. He was back on you immediately, kissing you hungrily as he slipped his cock back inside you, much easier this time. 

“Y’feel so fuckin’ good.” He breathed against your lips, wet from his sloppy kisses, and he kissed down your jaw to your neck. His accent was much thicker when he was inside you, barely pronouncing any words fully anymore. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and your legs around his waist, angling your hips up so he could drive his cock deeper into you. The new feeling made him moan pathetically into your neck, and he had to stifle the noises he didn't like with a bite to the skin where your neck met shoulder. 

The pressure of his teeth had your eyes rolling back in your head. There was so much stimulation, his dick driving relentlessly into your throbbing pussy, his fingers pinching your nipple and the other hand in your hair, pulling your head to the side to give him better access to your neck. A particularly deep thrust made you cry out, and you felt yourself nearing your second orgasm.

“Fuck!” You whined, your eyes squeezing tightly shut as you felt the tension building in your core as he fucked his dick into you. 

“That's it, y’gonna come for me?” His teeth drew away from your red neck, a string of spit connecting the two of you. 

All you could muster was an obscene “Mhmm!”, your thighs squeezing him tight around the waist. 

“C'mon girl.” His words were choppy from the force of his thrusts. He slowed for a second, readjusting himself before building back up to his former quick pace, each thrust sending your body scooting a little upwards along the floor of the roof. You were incredibly thankful it wasn't concrete. 

“Lemme hear it, c'mon.” His words alone were enough to send you falling over your edge. Your jaw dropped, your head tilting back as your back arched under his heavy body, and his arm slipped under you to hold your chest tight against his. 

The look on your face and the feeling of you cumming around his dick was all he needed. His face went slack and he let out a shameful whine, something he'd never heard himself make before, and came inside you. Neither of you noticed, too fucked out of your minds to even process it. 

You cried under him, twisting and squirming, impaled on his dick as your orgasm shook you to your core. Only when the final waves rolled off you did you relax, your eyes struggling to open as your breathing slowed.

Daryl raised his face from your chest and looked down at you, enjoying the look on your face as he regained his bearings. He ran his hands up and down your torso a few times, his eyes appreciating every little red mark on your neck and chest from his teeth.

 Only when the last jolts of pleasure left his body did he realize he came inside you. 

“Shit.” He grunted as he slowly drug his dick out of you, his breath catching in his throat when he saw the way his cum oozed out between your slick, puffy folds. 

“Hmm, ‘s fine.” You mumbled lazily, reaching up to push your hair from your face. “We're on top of a Dollar General. We'll get the morning after pill.” 

He nodded at your words, still hypnotized by the sight of his cum leaking out of you. A deep part of him wanted to stuff his dick back in you and keep it in, he didn't know why, but the idea was so hot he could've gone for a round two if you wanted. 

“We better get back.” You struggled to prop yourself up on your elbows, your weakened muscles protesting. The sun was well below the trees now, and if you got back when it was dark you knew Shane would throw a goddamn hissy fit. 

“We ain't gotta.” He half joked, a lazy grin on his face. “Can just stay here. Go back in the mornin’.”

You smiled, shaking your head, even though the idea was incredibly tempting. “Shane will kill us.”

“Fuck him.”

“I don't wanna piss him off when he's the one in possession of my gun right now.” Your words had him raising his brows and nodding in agreement. 

The two of you put your clothes back on and went through the back entrance, grabbing all your bags and making sure to pick up some morning after pills from the locked shelf behind the front desk. You caught him trying to discreetly grab some condoms, not knowing you saw, and you felt excitement bubble in your chest at the prospect of him expecting this to happen again. 

Thankfully Shane wasn't in camp when you snuck back in. He was down by the quarry, catching frogs or some shit, and you were able to share your spoils with the group before he came to ask questions. 

“Well, shit. Look at you.” Merle was smiling ear to ear, clapping Daryl on the back after he went to his brother's tent with a bag of goodies. 

It was extremely obvious what the two of you had done. Your hair was still messy despite you brushing it with your fingers on the way back, your face pink, your neck red. You were climbing into your own tent as Merle watched you from across camp. 

Daryl's neck and face were also red, and he had a few scratch marks on the back of his neck. 

And his fly was still down. 

“Shut up.” Daryl shrugged his brother's hand off him, opening a bag of Funyuns.

“My baby brothers no longer a fuckin’ loser!” He laughed, giving a wolf whistle before playfully ruffling his hair. “Atta boy. I told you.” 

“Ya’ ain't tell me shit.” Daryl grumbled, stuffing Funyuns in his mouth to hide the smile that was creeping onto his face. 

“Hey.”

“What?” Daryl groaned, exasperated already. 

“Think she’ll give me a ride?”

“Shut the hell up, man.” 

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 Cupid Walks Right.

Spencer Reid x BAU!reader

Summary: You've been hiding your attraction to your coworker for a long time, until a few pictures of him kissing a celebrity in a pool unleash emotions you can't control.

Words: 1,6k.

TW: fem!reader. mentions of crime and arms. spoilers for s1 e18 ("somebody's watching"). two idiots in love. lots of jealousy. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: The reader is simply me every time I watch that episode but with a lot more drama to make it interesting.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

One bullet after another hit the paper meters away from you, with each shot more accurate than the previous one. You had lost count of how many cartridges you had already spent because your mind was full of thoughts that only the sound of the shots echoing in the shooting room managed to silence and give you back a little control of the situation.

Memories of one of the last cases still lingered in your mind, and you couldn't understand why. It hadn't even been something relevant enough to stick in your mind that much, it was just a crazy stalker obsessed with a celebrity and more of the same old same old in terms of creating a profile. It was nothing you hadn't seen before, and it had ended well, with a happy ending that included Spencer kissing the victim he was supposed to be protecting.

That was the crux of the issue, the root of your problem.

You saw some photos that captured the moment in vivid detail and wanted to run out and throw up in the nearest trash can. You held back to avoid answering embarrassing questions, blaming your bad feelings on the last thing you ate and insisting that you were just satisfying your curiosity. But as they say, curiosity always kills the cat.

Maybe it was because it was unprofessional and unnecessary, maybe you were in a bad mood and needed to relax, maybe you were upset that the guy with the germ problem had shared saliva with a stranger, maybe you didn't like Lila Archer because of her performances, or maybe you just wanted to be in her shoes and have him kiss you like that. And for heaven's sake, maybe you've had a few inappropriate dreams about it lately.

You were just about to fire again to get the thoughts out of your mind when someone tapped you on the shoulder. You turned around, ready to defend yourself with the gun in your hand.

“Wait, wait, it's me. I'm sorry.” Spencer raised his arms in a sign of peace and took a few steps back. “Just me.”

“What are you doing here? You scared me.” You lowered the gun and placed it on the table, trying to sound less abrupt. “I thought everyone had gone home.”

He approached you again, checking the open shells and the pile of bullets on the ground. He was quite surprised to see how many times you had hit the target with perfect shots, and how you still seemed intent on continuing, even though it was almost two in the morning. It wasn't practice, because you didn't need it, it was something else, and you seemed quite angry about it.

“I spent the hour going through some papers and saw the light on in here. I thought I'd come and have a look.” He explained, trying to follow your gaze, which seemed to elude his. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, perfect.”

You started gathering your things and cleaning up the space you'd been using, planning to leave as soon as possible because of his presence. It had been weeks since you'd been alone with him because you'd managed to avoid seeing him as best you could. You'd even managed to convince Hotch that it was time for him to pair you up with someone else during the cases to experiment. You didn't even know why he'd listened to you, but it had been a great relief.

“You're leaving already?” Spencer asked, and you just nodded. “Can I take you home?”

Usually he drove you home, because your car was still at the mechanic and you refused to buy a new one. You always used the minutes you spent together to talk about something other than cases, they were moments of relaxation that you both appreciated. The big difference was that now you couldn't afford that luxury without feeling strange.

“Don't worry, I'll call a taxi.” You grabbed your jacket from a nearby locker. “I'm fine.” You added, with the intention of heading for the door until he stopped you by the wrist.

“Is everything okay...between us?” He asked as you looked up to meet his eyes. “Are you mad at me?”

“I'm sorry, what?” You said, feigning confusion. You always knew it was only a matter of time before he figured something was off with you. After all, he worked in profiling.

“Are you mad at me?” He asked again, in a lower voice, sounding a little more vulnerable than he'd intended. That instantly made you feel bad, you didn't want to hurt him with your confusion.

“No.”

He let out a sigh at your automatic response. His shoulders slumped a bit, and he felt a wave of relief for a few seconds. But then he looked into your eyes for a moment and hesitated, biting his lower lip.

“So...why are you looking at me like that?” He asked, sounding a little shy and with a hint of apprehension in his voice. “Or not looking at me at all.”

“I'm not doing anything.” You make excuses.

He got the chills when he heard your voice, which came across as cold and distant.

“You're giving me that look.”

You gave a little frown and folded your arms, as if to say you didn't agree.

“What look?"

“You look at me like I've done something wrong, like you're disappointed or angry...I think both. You barely look me in the eye, you walk away every time I want to talk to you, you don't sit near me on the jet or want to work with me anymore. And you've been like this for a week.” He paused for a second, remembering when your strange behavior started. “Ever since the L.A. case.”

The room was suddenly filled with silence and a palpable tension. You had been foolish to think Spencer wouldn't notice your remoteness, given his perceptive nature. But you didn't have a choice. You didn't want to appear jealous when you didn't even have feelings for him, you were just ovulating or something like that.

“Is it because...because of Lila? I heard Morgan say some things, and you haven't treated me the same since.” His wavering voice sounded more and more confident, as if he still had to convince himself of his point of view. “I want to know what you think, please.”

You could only curse Derek for exposing you like that. He was the only one who knew about your strange attraction to Reid because he had caught you looking at him several times and you had confessed it to him once in a bar after several drinks and a ridiculous game of cross questions. Since that night, the jokes and suggestions about making out with Spencer under a tree had begun.

But a beautiful actress did it before you, in her pool, with lots of pictures to prove it.

“I'm not one to tell you what to do, but I think your actions were unprofessional and most of all risky.” You spoke after a few seconds, clearing your throat and trying to contain the burning you felt. “It could have ended badly.”

Come on, you would have done the same thing. You often thought about what it would be like to kiss him in the middle of an investigation, especially when he kept giving important details. So you were a little hypocritical.

“I'm only saying that because I care about you.” You added, noticing how confused he looked.

“I know, I care about you too.” He replied calmly, taking a step toward you to touch your arm. “This has been bothering you?”

You froze at his warm touch and the implications you thought he was making about you, nodding as if hypnotized. Had he realized that you had been jealous all along? That you wanted to go back so he could kiss you and not her? That you wanted him to put his hands on your cheeks and kiss you deeply until you were breathless?

“I think I understand, but don't worry about me. I won't do anything dangerous anymore.”

Oh, he hadn't noticed.

Spencer really thought that you were just concerned about his safety because he was your friend and your partner on cases, that you were just frustrated that you weren't there to back him up in case things went wrong. It didn't even occur to him that it was something much deeper and more heated than that.

“So, all good?” He gave you a small smile that made your heart beat a little faster.

“Sure.” You lied, with a strange lump in your throat at the guarded words. “I just didn't know you liked blondes.” You added in a fake teasing tone.

Despite your clearly suspicious tone, Spencer laughed sheepishly. “Actually, I like your hair color.”

A strange bubbling sensation reached your stomach and made you smile.

“Mine?” You asked, lowering your gaze to the floor.

“Yes, it's like it's perfect for you.” He carefully brushed your hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear, causing the feeling in your stomach to identify itself as butterflies fluttering nonstop.

“You're telling me because I have a gun?” You tried to change the subject with a nervous laugh. “I'm not a celebrity, after all.”

“You don't have to be one to be as pretty as you are. But you could be if you wanted to, and...” He started to talk about statistics and a bunch of data you didn't even know, but strangely enough you didn't listen to him this time because you were stuck on the first sentence.

Spencer really thought you were pretty.

It was only then that you realized something had changed. The only successful shot had been Cupid's arrow to your heart.

Because, damn it, you were totally in love with that man.

[yan-randomfandom]

Hi! Is it possible to get a platonic Yandere Stanford with a teenager reader? The reader likes mysteries and monsters and all that just like him, so Stanford sees them and he’s like ‘yup. That’s my kid now’ lol

P!Yandere!Stanford Pines & Teenager!GN!Reader

warnings: violence(toward monsters), implied abuse

[THIS IS PLATONIC] I think I made this a tad too long... it's not even in bullet form anymore. thank you for the request! I love your idea sm 😭 [Word Count: 1047]

Stanford Pines has completed another mission. He lifted his head, his eyes squinting at the sight of the looming trees. The sun peeked between them, visibly on its way down.

To keep it short, he had to chase a dangerous, vile monster into the woods and take its life.

He probably saved thousands of lives. It's just that... it came down to the price of being lost. Ford has never gone this far from Gravity Falls before.

That's totally okay. Curious, even! This is perfect material for his research! He'll have to use a makeshift one for now—this cheap notebook he got from the gift shop.

As he was about to start writing, a panicked roar reverberated throughout the forest. Such strong growls—enough to blow away his clothes and body! Ford had to see it with his own eyes!

He ran and ran until he finally saw the giant. A single, widened eye stared at him, and suddenly he couldn't move anymore. Heavy breaths rose and plunged from his chest.

But he didn't have to worry any longer. A figure hopped down, continuously slicing the middle part of the eye as they descended.

Ford grunted, falling on his back as its blood squirted and leaked, even having some splatter on his nose. He watched the monster turn and run away, knowing that it'd die soon enough.

"Woah! Grandpa, you okay?" A small hand filled Ford's vision. "You froze up pretty quickly. I bet you'd be dead if I wasn't here!"

Once his vision finally cleared, he paused at the sight of a teenager. He's never seen this kid before. Ford cleared his throat, accepting your hand and standing up. "I'm fine. And don't call me that."

You hummed, tilting his open wallet with a nod. "I dunno. Being in your sixties sounds pretty old to me."

"What? How— When— Give me that!" Ford swiped his wallet out of you, to which you respond with a silly grin. He scoffed, crossing his arms. This is such a Stanley thing to do. "Who are you even, kid? Why are you out here?"

"I'm out adventuring!" you declared, placing your fists on your hips. You do certainly have equipment fit for an adventurer. "I mean, did you see me back there? Killed that monster with one swipe!"

Ford rubbed his chin in deep thought. He smiled. "That was pretty impressive. It reminds me of my nephew. You've gone straight towards the monster's weak point."

Unbeknownst to him, your face starts heating up from the praise. You've never received positive reactions from your oh-so-dangerous hobbies. "Well, yeah! It's no big deal. Eyes are usually common for being weak."

Ford chuckled. "Anyway, do you know the direction to Gravity Falls? I may be a little lost."

"Course, duh! It's like... that way! Opposite of the sun," you grinned, pointing behind him. He turned around to check, his shoulders slumping. You touched his nose with a grin when he looked back at you. What a Mabel type of personality. You were really just removing the monster's blood, though. "Boop!"

...Okay.

One glance at the sky, and Ford knew that there's no way he's going to go home at this time. While he loved adventuring, especially at night, he's still in undiscovered territory and would very much like to go home in one piece.

"Alrightnicetomeetyoudude! Byeeee! Good luck!" you exclaimed, already waving at him and walking away.

Wait! You're his only ticket out!

"Pray tell, kid, are you alone? Don't you have guardians or friends tagging along?" he asked hastily.

"Naw. I have parents waiting for me back home, though," you smiled.

Ford somehow convinced you to bring him home to yours.

Now, you stood in front of your house with him by your side. The older man couldn't help but notice that you looked a bit anxious, weirdly enough. You're scratching your arm.

The door finally opened. The first thing Ford saw was a frustrated face of an older woman, which was swiftly wiped when she took note of his presence. How odd.

"Oh, sweetie, who's this with you?"

"Found him in the woods! Isn't he neat?"

"Let's talk for a bit. Please give us a moment," the woman smiled at Ford, grabbing you before closing the door on him.

Ford awkwardly stood outside the house, checking his watch. Faint voices reached his ears. That's your mother, yes? She sounded upset. You sounded upset. He hasn't been in this dimension in a while, but would it really be so bad to take home a man you haven't met? He's just literally lost!

You opened the door. He froze when he met your tear-filled eyes.

"Sorry, whatever-your-name-is. I can't let you in," you muttered meekly. "But you can wait for me tomorrow. I'll help you go home. Bye."

The door closed. Why were you crying? That's not right.

Next day.

Ford waited for you on your front porch, mindlessly writing in his notebook. He had to sleep on a makeshift cushion of laundry. It wasn't the worst place to sleep, and he's just glad he didn't get caught.

"Good morning! You're early today!" you beamed, already walking.

"Is there anything I should know about your parents?" he deadpanned, trailing next to you.

You got uncomfortable quickly. "Uh, next question? Hey, look, a parasite! So weird!"

"Don't touch that! I can't believe it ranges up to here!"

The journey towards Gravity Falls felt long and tiring. But it simply made you and Ford closer.

"What's your name again?"

"Ford. Just call me Ford."

"For— Holy shit! I didn't even notice earlier! You have five fingers and a thumb!"

"Please—" he hid his hand in reflex.

"Six cylinders on your hand! That's so cool, Ford!"

Ford simply sighed, a smile growing on his lips.

Eventually, you both reach the mystery shack.

"Woah... That's yours? No wonder why you're so used to being in the woods. You live in one!"

Ford chuckled, opening the front door. "I can safely say you're going to get along with my family, kid."

...

You paused, hesitating. "I can't. I have to go home."

...

He smiled sweetly. "Not even for dinner? It'll be quick."

Your stomach growled quite loudly, causing your cheeks to heat up. "Okay, fine. Maybe a little."

Stepping right into the shack, Ford shuts the door behind you. He can't let you go back in that godforsaken house. You looked too miserable.

You can be happy with the Pines family here.

[xomakara]

Reconnecting Hearts

SUMMARY |  You meet this cute guy, Jeno, while you were studying overseas and start a fling with him during the year you were there. Months after returning home to Korea, your brother introduces you to his friend, not knowing that you already know him. And intimately at that.

PAIRINGS | Jeno x Reader

RATING | Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+

GENRE |  non-idol!Jeno, overseas fling, friends with benefits, smut

CONTENT/WARNINGS | profanity/strong language, filthy dirty thoughts, protected and unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), oral sex (both receiving/giving), dirty talk, praise kink, pet names, vaginal penetration

LENGTH | 8,844 words

TAGLIST | —

NETWORKS |  @k-vanity @ksmutsociety

AUTHOR’S NOTE | Jeno. Oh, Jeno. How in the world did you slip into the bias lane? No idea but I hope everyone likes this! 💚

"Jeno," you let out a breathy moan as he begins kissing the back of your neck. "Jaemin will be back soon. We shouldn't be doing this."

"But you don't want me to stop," he says, trailing kisses to your jaw. "Do you?"

He stops and places both hands on either side of the counter you are leaning against. He buries his face into the back of your neck, waiting for your response.

You both stop in the middle of the kitchen and suddenly feel chills shoot through your body. A few months ago when you went to America for your studies, Jeno was just some cute guy from one of your classes you'd fallen into bed with. It had all just happened so fast. One second you were studying in the school's library, the next you both were kissing in some storage closet and a few days later he was in your bed, inside you. For a full year that's how things were. 

Life returned back to normal once you came back to Korea, becoming an adult, partying with your friends, dating around. Hooking up with other guys from time to time, but it never felt right. Because he wasn't with you. In reality, you only thought of him, wished he was the one touching you, that he was the one laying with you at night. You missed the feeling of his body above yours as he railed you, and most of all, his sweet yet strong arms surrounding you and making you feel safe. He was what you thought about before closing your eyes, and all you dreamed about. 

So, imagine how surprised you were when one day your brother came home from work with his fellow coworker and friend in tow. The moment you made eye contact with him, time froze. A smile formed on his lips as he looked you over. Your breathing hitched and you fidgeted nervously.

And when Jeno introduced himself to you as if it was the first time, you played along because lord knows what Jaemin would do if he found out the kind of history you two shared.

"I..." you trail, lost in words as Jeno slides the sleeve of your blouse to the side so his lips could kiss your shoulder. Your brain is becoming fuzzy, not thinking properly. Your eyes close briefly, focusing on the feeling of his fingers and lips touching your skin. 

"Jeno..." you say softly.

It takes everything in him to not take you right then and there in the kitchen. The way his name leaves your lips almost does him in. But the fear of your brother's reaction keeps him from touching you any further than he's already been doing.

"Hmm," he hums into your skin, kissing you softly. "I really missed you." 

He backs away from you and you turn around to face him. You wrap your arms around his neck as he grips your hips with a smirk. You bite your lip softly.

"I really missed you too," you sigh. 

And just like that, everything returns to normal for a bit and you are back at square one with him. It's true. You really did miss him, more than words could even possibly begin to describe. It wasn't just sex, like it was in the beginning, no. Over time things progressed and developed, deep feelings stirring the closer you two became. At least, from your side they did.

The butterflies constantly filled your stomach whenever you two met or saw each other. And, when you did hookup, he was sweet and gentle, which made you fall a little harder every time. After every sexual act you exchanged, he always stayed a little bit longer and held you, so warm and comfortable in his arms that it was hard to breathe. His soothing fingers ran across your scalp and shoulders and your fingers touched and caressed every part of him, something you had become addicted to. It was something you couldn't get used to, not that you wanted to. No, instead you longed for it. Craved him, longed for his warmth, and yearned for him.

What you wouldn't give for him to say 'I love you' to you in that deep smooth voice of his, running those smooth lips all over your bare skin and whispering that you are beautiful and good to him. All of those feelings intensified exponentially and more each passing day. All you wanted, no need, was his love and touch.

A loud buzz sounds off, scaring you and causing you to jump out of Jeno's grasp. Both of you are breathing heavily.

You scramble around the kitchen, attempting to make your presence seem casual. After taking a deep breath, you press the speaker button, asking who's there.

"It's us, dummy," you hear Jaemin say over the speaker. "Now open the door, our hands are full."

After the doors unlock with a click, you release the breath you didn't know you were holding in.

"We'll be fine," Jeno mutters before Jaemin walks through the front door. "He doesn't know about us."

You take a second to fix yourself, your hair and blouse, before running back to the living room just in time to see Jaemin enter, the rest of your friends hot on his heels.

"Sorry we're late. We got held up at the register because someone–" your brother sends a playful glare over at Haechan, "was flirting with the cashier and held up the entire line. You should have come with us, Jeno. Then maybe the transaction would have been smoother."

The whole gang plops down in the living room after dropping the multiple bags of takeout on the coffee table. Everyone gets situated in their regular spots, opening the boxes and containers that fill the space on the table.

Jeno has seated himself across from you on the couch, leaning forward to grab a can of soda. It takes everything in you not to stare at the outline of his arm, but you manage to pry your eyes away just in time, trying hard to concentrate on the conversations around you.

For the most part, you succeed. However, that all goes away the moment you look up and make brief eye contact with Jeno, his tongue dragging across his bottom lip quickly before a smile appears on his face. You swear you catch a devilish smirk on his face before he faces away and turns to ask Jaemin a question.

Damn, that man will be the death of you.

In your peripheral view you see a hand wave in front of your face, causing you to gasp and jump slightly in your seat. Everyone sitting close laughs, except Jaemin, who's frowning from your reaction.

"Hey! What was that for?" you shout playfully, hitting his shoulder.

“You were spacing out,” Jaemin said. “We were calling you and everything.”

"Sorry," you chuckle awkwardly, glancing at Jeno for half a second. "Just thinking about what movie we should watch next. Do you guys have any suggestions?"

Jisung jumps from the floor, looking at everyone with a pout. "Please, nothing scary this time. I had nightmares for weeks after watching that last one."

"Let's watch a romantic drama!" Haechan adds with a squeal before shoving food in his mouth.

"Ew, pass," Chenle shouts from beside him.

"Yo, what about an action film?" Mark suggested.

The four of them bicker for a moment over what genre of film to watch until Renjun speaks up, settling the argument.

"Why not have a mix of genres? Like one scary, one comedy, and so on." He suggests.

Everyone nods in agreement, the bickering now gone. It is then settled.

One movie goes by before Haechan turns off the light, enveloping everyone in the dark, save for the TV. You watch the film until something else catches your attention. You're sitting next to Jeno, knees pressed against his, a throw blanket tossed over your laps, his hand squeezing your naked thigh, hidden under the soft material.

The sound from the television becomes distant as your senses focus on only him, his warm hand caressing your exposed skin. You turn to him, locking eyes as a shiver runs through you when his hand begins wandering further, dangerously close to where you want him the most. You slipped a hand under the blanket, sneaking to where Jeno's fingers are barely touching your pussy, letting him know silently you approve of his advances.

No one has seemed to notice what's happening beneath the blanket, and that's for the best. Jeno's eyes widen before a smirk forms on his face, the thumb of his hand circling your inner thigh, sending another shockwave through you, causing you to whimper ever so quietly. You thank the universe that no one is paying attention to you right now.

Your core is beginning to clench, craving the familiar feeling of Jeno's fingers touching you, filling you. It's been far too long since you've had him, but god do you miss him, need him.

Another quiet whimper slips from your lips when you see him bite his lip. This guy is fucking torturing you right now. How does he have the self control to be doing this right now with the others so close and him being right next to your brother? Your face is a deep red and is very thankful that the lights have been shut off to mask it.

“Hey, Jeno,” Jaemin said.

You snap out of it as Jaemin begins speaking. Jeno stops his hand from going any further, much to your dismay, and hums in acknowledgment.

“You’re back for good right? Like, living in Korea permanently?” Jaemin asked.

Jeno sits up straight, stretching his arms over his head before glancing down at you, then answering your brother. "Yeah. I've got all my stuff in order and moved back here for good a few days ago."

Your eyes scan Jeno's body for the hundredth time. Even now in the dim lighting, you can't help but drink him in.

God, his hands. The hands that had just been gripping you firmly are now running themselves through his thick hair. It's grown longer since the last time you saw him.

Stop. You mentally scold yourself before you let yourself drown any further into thoughts of him touching you and marking you as his, his moans filling your ear, his deep voice groaning as he–

"For real? Need a girlfriend? I have a cousin that might work out," Mark's voice drags you out of your little fantasy. "She's your type, or what I'm told is."

Jeno shakes his head. "I'm not exactly looking. You know? After just getting settled and all, I need time to figure things out. Work is becoming increasingly busy with a new branch of the company being established. It's really taking its toll. Not to mention having to move back, pack and unpack... Yeah, dating is far from the back of mind. Right now I'm just worried about-"

"Work," the rest of the group finishes his sentence for him and erupt into fits of laughter. You feel yourself laughing along with everyone, even though all you want right now is his hand to slide up under the shorts and rub circles onto your clit like the good boy you know he is. You know damn well he'd do it without a second thought. But the other six men being so near have you biting the bullet and refraining yourself from jumping on him, hoping the movies end soon. You'll just have to wait.

"It's already past one, guys. Do you all plan on sleeping here tonight?" you ask.

Renjun stretches out onto the floor, and you hear a loud popping sound emit from his bones. "I don't feel like moving. Let me crash here tonight. Pretty please?"

"Same. I don't have the energy to walk back," Haechan groans loudly.

Jaemin huffs and shoves both of the sleepy men off of him. "Alright alright. Stay, the more the merrier. It'll be like a giant sleepover."

"The moment you all get loud, I'm kicking you all out." you stand, stretching and yawning loudly, the volume from the tv now muted. "See ya tomorrow. I'm gonna go to bed."

As soon as the words leave your lips, the seven guys all begin pleading with you to watch another movie, which only prompts you to yawn again. You shake your head as you walk down the hall, ignoring them.

Their voices become background noise as you step into your room and shut the door behind you. Flopping onto your bed, the silence gives you a second to breathe, relax your mind after what had happened mere moments ago.

Your hand subconsciously trails to the spot that Jeno had his hand on before being rudely interrupted. You moan softly at the feeling of your fingertips on your throbbing clit. The hunger inside you is screaming to be satiated, but you decide you can hold out, at least for a couple more hours.

Instead of dwelling on the fact that your fling is in the other room, you flip to your side and start playing music on your phone, hoping the lyrics can put you into a deep sleep until morning. You cuddle under the covers and close your eyes, feeling the tiredness overcome your senses. The moment your eyes fall shut, your phone begins buzzing from somewhere above you.

You feel around under the blankets, nearly losing your hearing when a screech leaves the speakers. Tilting your screen towards you, a message from none other than the one guy you've been trying so desperately to forget appears before your eyes. Your heart flutters once you begin reading.

Jeno: In the living room, trying my best not to pop a boner thinking about what we started earlier. And about what you tasted like months ago when I shoved my cock down your throat, and what your face looks like when you cum.

You: Bold of you to assume I don't have a vibrator nestled between my legs right now, wishing it was you fucking me instead.

Without hesitation, you hit send, biting your bottom lip, hoping your tease will get some sort of response out of the other. The three little bubbles appear almost instantly, giving you a moment of anticipation.

Jeno: Keep your bedroom door unlocked and don't touch yourself until I'm touching you.

Oh boy. You toss your phone aside after reading and lay still in your bed, attempting to follow Jeno's wishes. A few minutes have passed by the time a quiet knock reaches your ears. You hop off the mattress, hurrying to the door. Slowly, you crack the door, peering out to see Jeno standing in the hallway, and all the guys' snores reaching your ears. Without hesitating, you pull him in, shutting the door softly and locking it.

His arms snake their way around your waist, pulling you into his chest and his lips press onto yours. Immediately, you lean into him, your tongue flicking across his, causing him to let out a slight grunt. You knew he missed this, and you had been too.

But at this moment, it's him and it's you.

The moonlight and the blue light from the LED strips adorning the top edge of the walls allows you to make out his facial features and movements as the two of you separate for a quick moment of air.

The hunger in Jeno's gaze makes you melt on the spot.

"Fuck," Jeno trails a finger down the curve of your cheek and across your lips. "I missed you so bad."

A warmth spreads throughout your body. It's been awhile, but nothing has really changed between the two of you. Despite the multiple guys you hooked up with while you were back in Seoul, they didn't do it for you the way Jeno did. They may have taken care of you physically, but none of them have made you feel the way he has. None of them can be a tender fuck buddy, switching roles and putting their needs aside just for you. The thought brings back old memories of the year abroad and the numerous times the both of you have met, making your core pulse with need.

With a finger under your chin, he lifts your head and the two of you lock eyes. With every word you speak, a puff of warm air leaves your lips and hits the skin of his face. 

"Then show me how bad," you say, biting your bottom lip.

An animalistic look forms on his face when the words reach his ears. A second passes and then his lips are crashing onto yours, his tongue fighting yours for dominance and your teeth scraping at one another, breathing hard and desperate for more. You tug at the fabric of his shirt, hands sliding up his abdomen to remove the piece of cloth from his body and allow your nails to trail their way back down and stop right at the edge of his pants. You pull away with a mischievous smile on your face.

"Someone's needy," Jeno taunts, leaning into you to nip your earlobe.

You allow him to guide you over to your bed and push you down. He takes a moment to just soak you in, his eyes drinking in every inch of your body, and when his gaze lands on the small sliver of your panties poking out from beneath your large shirt, he swallows hard.

"Please, Jeno," your soft, hushed voice pierces the heavy tension in the air. "I need you so bad."

Your lustful whine combined with the sight of you laying before him has his hard member pulsing and aching to be touched.

"Shit," he curses, slowly unzipping his jeans and letting them pool at his ankles. A low groan leaves him at the sight of his growing bulge. "Look what you've done to me, princess."

You lick your lips and slide your hips closer to the edge of the bed and sit up, face to face with his clothed cock. "May I?"

"You know you don't have to ask, right?" His thumb swipes a piece of hair out of your face and tucks it behind your ear. "Go on, baby. I want that pretty mouth around me."

You shoot him a shy grin and waste no time removing his briefs. His erection pops out, and a shuddering gasp falls from your lips. God, this man is the walking embodiment of a god. You immediately take him in your hand, earning a low moan from Jeno. A hand is placed onto the top of your head, guiding your lips toward the tip of his cock.

"C'mon, princess," his voice is rough and urgent with need as he taps the tip against your bottom lip. "Open up for me."

Without protest, you obey and part your lips, letting him push himself deeper, sheathing his length in your warm, wet mouth. Your eyes flicker upwards, and you are met with a look of lust in his eyes. He gives you a nod and you let out a groan, your eyes rolling into the back of your head at the taste of his length against your tongue. His scent fills you with a longing desire that aches at the bottom of your gut.

You slowly wrap your hand around him, squeezing slightly and starting a steady rhythm, drawing soft moans of approval from him as you do so. With each stroke, you run your thumb in little circles around the tip, gathering precum on your finger.

The sound of him becoming undone under your ministrations fills the room.

"F-f-uck," he lets out an audible groan, tangling his fingers in your hair. "Look at you, so eager to swallow all of my cum." His grip on your hair tightens, pulling harshly, earning him a yelp, which travels through his cock and gives him goosebumps.

He has always loved being inside your mouth, watching you take him all the way down your throat, feeling the hot, wet warmth envelope him entirely. The sight of his length disappearing between your perfect lips sends him over the edge. Jeno pulls at the roots of your hair again, his hips slamming forward as his climax comes undone and spilling out into your eager throat.

"Do you want me to return the favor?" He offers sweetly after his orgasm subsides and his length pulls out of your mouth with a pop. You can only answer him with a lazy smile.

After adjusting back onto the bed, you lie there, still, barely having recovered from the intense orgasm that had washed over your body.

"C'mon baby," a chuckle escaped his lips when he heard the sluggish moan you give him when he tugs at your underwear, "these gotta go."

He doesn't have to tell you twice. You quickly lift your lower body up for him, the wet spot on the article of clothing clearly visible, and he laughs at the sight of the stained garment.

“If that’s any sign of how bad you want me, then I have to give you what you desire,” Jeno said.

"Fuck, I hate you," you scoff as Jeno removes them at an antagonizing slow pace, slowly driving you mad with lust and longing.

"No you don't," he presses a wet, sloppy kiss to your inner thigh, teasing you. A finger lightly traces the wet mess, which you've made due to the lack of attention down there.

You buck your hips when his lips move further down.

"Be good," Jeno says between kisses. "Don't want the others to wake up now, do you?"

Before you have a chance to answer, his tongue flicks at your entrance, and a loud moan reverberates through the room. You clasp your hand over your mouth, muffling your screams of pleasure. His tongue keeps up a delicious pace, hitting just the right places as his mouth works magic. His name slips off the tip of your tongue, breathless and strangled, as if his mouth was stealing your breath. The flat side of his tongue slowly teases you as he applies light pressure on your clit. The pressure builds inside you, causing your core to pulse. Your free hand threads itself into his hair, tangling it into knots as you grip it.

"Jeno," your voice is uneven as you moan his name over and over again, "I'm almost there."

"Good," is all you hear before he starts fucking you with his tongue, harder than ever.

"I want you inside me, please," you cry, panting for dear life as your climax approaches faster than ever, "I want you so bad. I've missed you so fucking much-"

Before you finish your sentence, he's flipping your body over so that your ass is in the air, your face buried into the pillow, trying your damned hardest not to make a sound. After finding the condoms that you know are buried inside the third drawer in your dresser, he discards his remaining clothes, swiftly rolls it on, and shoves into you in one thrust, making your eyes roll into the back of your skull.

"Fuck," Jeno growls, pausing when you clench your walls around his cock. "So tight."

You shudder violently, and you have a hard time thinking clearly because he's still pressing his tip right up against that special spot that has you seeing stars. The thrusts of his hips start out slow, deep, and have your body craving for more. He snaps his hips, and your eyes widen.

"Oh, Jeno, there," you cry, "there. Oh, fuck.."

Jeno continues to slide his girthy cock in and out, continuously hitting that sweet spot inside you over and over again. Each of his strokes is perfectly timed with the grinding of your hips. All your feelings are completely amplified, sending shocks throughout your entire body with each pump of his hips. It isn't long before Jeno feels the familiar tension building, and you feel your walls closing around him once again. The thrusting of his hips grow faster, deeper, and sloppier until you and him reach the precipice at the same time.

He keeps going for a few more thrusts before he eventually comes to a halt. Jeno presses his forehead into your back, his breath labored and his voice groggy and thick with satisfaction and pleasure. "Fuck, sweetheart." His body presses fully into yours before you feel a warm liquid spurt inside the latex around his dick, a wetness between your thighs that was there beforehand.

Once the two of you have managed to catch your breath, Jeno slides himself out of you, quickly disposing of the rubber. Jeno moves to your side, looking you over, his eyes lidded and satisfied, your hair tousled and sticking out everywhere, your face flushed.

He slides the sheets over both of you and settles himself, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and wrapping an arm around your bare torso. You rest your chin onto his messy black locks, the faint scent of the conditioner from his previous shower lingering around him.

You feel the sleepiness hit your body, as does it in Jeno's.

"Hey," you whisper, and he grunts in acknowledgement, eyes still shut as his breathing calms and his expression relaxes. "Jeno?"

"Hm? Yeah? What is it?" His eyes open just a bit, peering at you.

"I was wondering," you trail off, eyes staring up at the ceiling, "since you're staying in Seoul for good...can we continue, well, whatever the fuck it is we're doing?"

It takes him a minute, but he turns himself onto his back and cracks an eye open, looking up at the ceiling the same way you were seconds ago.

A loud yawn interrupts him and you bite the inside of your cheek, a nervousness creeping in.

"Yes, for sure. I'm down if you are," the tone of his voice makes a warm and fuzzy feeling burst in your stomach. "It's been over a year and we haven't stopped. No reason why it should." 

He trails off and tilts his head to look at your face and meets your eyes. "What about your brother? Won't he notice? Be suspicious?"

You sigh and run a finger across his chest. "I'm not ready to tell Jaemin. Don't know when I'm ever gonna be."

You hadn't told him or anyone about the fling and had no plans on it for a while.

Jeno shifts his body weight, the other side of him settling against your chest. He wraps his arms around your body and hums slowly. "When it happens, it happens. We can deal with it then."

And with that, you lean into him and finally succumb to a deep slumber.

“When it happens, we’ll talk to him,” Jeno said.

"You're spending a lot of time with Jeno, lately," Haechan leans his hip onto your bedroom doorway, a playful smirk forming.

It's been several weeks since Jeno's first night here in your house, and not a single moment has gone by that you haven't both had your hands all over each other.

For some odd reason, despite the obvious suspicion and careful remarks from the others, the two of you haven't been busted for what you're doing.

It's a Saturday evening, and you and the guys are getting ready to head out for drinks together. The last to finish getting ready, you were finishing up the last touches of your makeup before turning around.

“Huh?” you asked.

He flashes a suspicious smile at you. "You. Jeno."

"What about us?" Your tone is full of caution and defense. "Are we not allowed to? Lastly, I remember you guys are his friends too."

"Ya'll fucking, aren't you?" Haechan raises an eyebrow at you.

"Please don't tell Jaemin," it takes you a few moments of gathering the words to respond to him and when you do, the plea is pathetic and desperate.

"For real? I was just joking, not actually asking if it was true–" Haechan blinks. "Damn, Y/N. Never took you to be this kinda woman."

"I have a history with him, you know," you slap Haechan's arm with the back of your hand. "A very, very dirty history. Not a lot of people are privy to it."

Haechan feigns a shocked gasp. "Do tell."

Your gaze becomes downcast, almost as though you are trying to hide from him, but he already knows too much.

"Seriously. Don't tell the others," the last thing you need is another set of idiots hounding you about it.

Haechan moves closer, keeping his eyes on you.

"If they find out, you're fucking screwed. Especially your brother," he shakes his head, a frown visible on his lips. "Are you two at least being safe?"

“We’ve always kept it safe. Haven’t slipped up in that department and I intend for it not to happen,” you reassured him.

Haechan releases the breath he didn't know he was holding and sighs deeply. He wasn't planning on pressuring you into spilling your heart out, nor did he want you to feel uncomfortable or obliged to give him a full play by play. You are a grown woman, able to take care of yourself and make the decisions you want. So why should he try to dictate or change your mind, or worse, your lifestyle?

"Look. As long as he makes you happy and isn't hurting you, I support you," he places a soft hand on top of your head and smiles widely.

That alone warms your heart. Haechan was never one to pry or gossip. This side of him never ceased to amaze you.

"Thank you," you breathe and return his smile, feeling your mood perk up again.

"Sure. But!" He snaps his fingers. Your smile turns into a playful pout. "You guys have to be more careful and figure your shit out. I can't promise you my silence when things go sideways, alright?"

"Right," you said and playfully smacked Haechan's shoulder with a laugh. "Now can we head to the damn bar?"

After pulling on an oversized jacket, the two of you walk out into the hallway where the rest of the gang has been waiting for the longest five minutes of their life.

"Fucking finally," Renjun stretches his legs. "Can we go now?"

You quickly duck down and slip your shoes on, smoothing out any wrinkles in your outfit. You try not to pay attention to Jeno, who watched you closely, especially how your jeans cling perfectly to the outline of your body.

The drive is longer than anticipated, leaving plenty of time to chat with your companions, and after nearly a half hour, you finally arrive and everyone hurries to exit the van, running up to the entrance. The bouncer flashes a warm smile upon recognizing you and the others, allowing them to walk in without much hassle.

Renjun quickly finds an empty booth for all of you to occupy, and the others quickly follow suit, plopping down and shoving each other over and over until there is room for everyone. Jeno finds his seat right next to you, leaning back against his seat, his arm sneakingly sliding over the leather surface to settle behind the back of your neck. A drink is placed in front of the both of you a few minutes later and the guys get lost in their conversations, ignoring everyone else but each other.

Jeno's arm stays put behind you while you play on your phone, having some casual conversation with the guys here and there. Jaemin glances your way, noting how close Jeno is to you, not saying a single word. He raises his eyebrows questioningly and continues chattering with Mark. The looks Jaemin shoots you and Jeno doesn't go unnoticed, and Haechan elbows you. You and Jeno take that as your signal to stop behaving so foolishly, so you put some distance between your bodies, the arm behind your neck retreating and his body leaning in to speak quietly.

"Alright, I'm going for round three," Chenle announces, a satisfied groan as he empties his beer bottle and rises to his feet. He glances toward his left, motioning to you with his hand and you nod your head. You rise from the booth, moving aside to let him out. "Wanna come with, Y/N?"

You shuffle out behind him. "Why not?"

With that, you and the younger walk your way to the bar and get the bartenders' attention. After ordering and paying, the two of you linger at the counter, having a few moments alone to converse.

"So," he begins, tapping his nails against the surface and clicking his tongue, "you and Jeno, huh?"

A look of amusement creeps its way across Chenle's features, his expression holding a mix of something else that you can't quite identify. The latter sits in the middle of the table, hands under his chin, contemplating how exactly to handle the conversation.

"Is it that obvious?" your eyes widen, your voice a breathy whisper.

"Come on. Anyone within a mile could tell," Chenle chuckles and shrugs, not meaning any harm or judgment behind the tone he's taken with you.

"Shit, shit, shit," you slap a palm against your face and peek in between your fingers, catching a glimpse of Chenle's contagious smile. "First Haechan and now you? God, I'm fucked, aren't I?"

Chenle lifts himself from the stool and settles next to you, a friendly smile on his face. The mood around him softens immediately and his aura is enough to calm you, to lift a weight from your shoulders. He doesn't mean any ill-will, afterall.

"Look, Y/N. Nobody will think negatively of you. Jaemin will probably say shit because he's your brother but if you like Jeno, like actually like him, then go for him," his words are genuine, his thoughts pure of concern for a friend.

He does have a point. Things aren't quite simple and clear when it comes to the situation between you and Jeno, however, this would definitely end things for good. No more sneaking around or secret meetings.

No more worrying.

"So, will you tell him?" Chenle asks you gently, placing his hand upon yours with reassurance. "You can't keep this going if it isn't working. You owe that to yourself. Jeno, too."

You muster the courage and exhale a shaky sigh. "Maybe. I'll try."

When the two of you return, the rest of your company has made themselves scarce around the place, spread out around and dancing wildly, yelling in each other's faces, drinking and drinking to drown whatever feelings they were struggling with at the present moment. The place begins to fill with even more patrons, causing it to become cramped, your nerves and anxiety to rise and rise and rise until you can barely manage a calm facial expression.

Jeno pulls you down onto the seat next to him, his lips next to your ear, husky voice rumbling in his chest. "You ok, princess? Wanna sit for a few?"

You nod, appreciating the thoughtfulness he's put into trying to comfort you.The tension leaves your body when he lets a hand rest over yours in the space between you two. "Yeah, thank you, Jeno." 

"Been thinking 'bout you for a little," Jeno flashes his eyes towards you, a small, teasing smile growing. "Maybe a few things have been popping in my head..."

"Mhm," the corner of your lip lifts as you smirk. "Care to elaborate, or?"

"Nah," Jeno answers smoothly, pulling you a little bit closer. "It's a conversation that we can have later."

You roll your eyes playfully. "Why don't we get out of here?"

Jeno hums again. "And if the guys notice?"

"I don't care any more," you looked at him. You realized there was no need to hold back anything anymore. "All I want is you, Jeno. And I'm done hiding us."

Jeno shifts to get a better look at your face, the warmth of your skin touching his in the crowded, bustling bar. He presses his palm against the side of your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb. "Let's get out of here then."

Grabbing a few scattered items lying on the table, the two of you get up from the seats and, taking your hands in his, move to exit the bar with no resistance or arguments coming your way, an enormous sigh of relief passing from your lungs.

"C'mon, sweetheart," he whispers against your ear. A small shiver creeps up your spine. "I got you."

You quickly meet a brisk and cold night's air the instant the two of you step outside, the crickets making a loud chirping sound as Jeno and you speed walk back towards the direction of his vehicle. Once arriving and getting in, Jeno reaches over and buckles you in, his free hand cradling the base of your skull when you lean forward to give him a heated and needy kiss, sucking the bottom of his lips harshly. The instant he shuts his door, Jeno reaches for your face, tilting it toward his, kissing you with urgency, deep and searching, an almost desperation underlying in the action. The way he looks at you after parting his lips from yours, dark irises staring into your soul, almost makes your breath stop altogether.

"Now will you tell me?" you ask quietly.

"When we get home. I'll tell you," he tells you as he backs out of the parking spot. The corners of his mouth quirk. "And I'll show you, too."

It doesn't take the two of you long to get to his place, the ride quiet and short, barely a car in sight in front or behind Jeno's. Pulling into his driveway, Jeno drives right up and parks the car, killing the ignition and taking a breath before moving. Unbuckling and exiting his door, you meet Jeno near the entrance, keys jingling as he unlocks and opens the heavy metal, letting you walk in first. After stepping foot in, the cool air conditioning hits, causing a small shiver.

"Chilly?" Jeno walks into his kitchen and heads towards a cabinet, grabbing two mugs and the bag of green tea that Jaemin bought for him as a gift, as a welcoming token. "Want me to turn up the heater?"

You nod and rub your hands together in a feeble attempt to warm yourself.

"Yeah, if that's not a problem," you plop onto his couch, draping the throw blanket over yourself. It wasn't even a second later before he's bringing the hot cups of tea and sitting down next to you, a steam of minty, earthy and comforting smell flowing from the mugs. You took a whiff and let the warm and flavorful aroma relax you. The warmth that travels through you isn't just from the liquid.

"Better?" Jeno rests his mug on the coffee table in front and draws you to his chest. The heat from his body keeps you warm and you let yourself get lost in it. "Nice?"

"Much. Thanks," you cuddle into his shoulder. "Now are you gonna explain or are you gonna keep dancing around the subject?"

He laughs, a loud and airy one, his laugh lines crinkling, his nose scrunching. Your stomach does that familiar flipping thing as you try your best not to blush like a crazy person and curl yourself into a ball right here and now. "I know when we first agreed to this thing it was only gonna be sex, y'know?"

You chuckle under your breath, suddenly finding a loose string on his hoodie rather interesting as you toy with it.

"The thing is…" Jeno begins. "This...us? Fuck. We've been doing this thing for a full year. The sex is nice, so nice, but I find myself missing every other damn thing you do. What you sound like when you first wake up. How cute you look when you sleep, and when you laugh. Just being around you. Damn. And honestly-" His hands land on top of yours, the tingles settling in, the warmth growing. You feel his heart quicken in his chest, thumping loudly and so hard you feel it about to burst. He clears his throat. "The fact is...Y/N, I've been madly, deeply in love with you for a damn long time, and it's impossible for me not to fall deeper and deeper, because you are so beautiful and amazing that it makes my chest fucking burst sometimes and–"

He's stopped mid sentence by your finger gently pressing over his lips, your cheeks glowing.

"Jeno," you breathed. "You have no idea how long I've wanted you, truly wanted you. Ever since I came home from overseas, you've been the one person in this damn world I've been thinking about. Like nonstop. No one else comes close. The feelings, they're mutual, Jeno, for real." 

Your throat tightens, your emotions spilling out before you could control yourself. "I'm pretty fucking sure I'm in love with you, Lee Jeno. Fucking love you. All of you. Every single bit of you. And I don't care if Jaemin or the world knows that."

You take your finger away, allowing him to speak. 

"Then be with me," he leans forward and presses a tender and slow kiss to your lips, so sweet that it sends a delightful flutter in the pit of your stomach. He parts for just a moment to press another tender kiss to your neck, then another higher up. "Let's give this a shot. Officially. Because I'm very fucking in love with you. For the last year I haven't stopped thinking about you, all the sweet little things you do for me, the late night chats, the mornings I get to wake up with you and talk to you."

He smiles down at you, all boyish, but that dimple of his is undeniably adorable. You've always been fascinated by it. It's the first thing that attracted you to him the first time the two of you met.

You don't say a word as you cup his face and bring his lips down onto yours, this kiss much more eager and a bit forceful, so passionate you almost gasp and whine from the sensation of it. He reaches an arm up and tangles it in your hair, bringing your mouths closer and closer.

Pulling away after what seems like hours, your breathing becomes labored, heavy, and Jeno stands, placing both hands under you and carrying you to his room, your arms draped around his neck and a shy smile playing on his lips.

"God, I'm in so much trouble," he sets you down on the bed.

"Yeah?" you stare up at him from where you lie on the mattress.

"Fuck yes," he shakes his head in amazement, still staring at you as though you've cast a spell upon him and there's no turning back from this.

You spread your legs and motion for him to join. Jeno settles himself above you, his weight resting between your legs and on his arms that he keeps next to your head, staring deeply into your eyes. He leans down and you tilt your head to capture his lips, whimpering slightly, the noise making him groan and your stomach tightens in anticipation.

"Mhm, and how much are you in trouble?" you mumble against his lips.

Jeno doesn't respond, only kisses your lips with such vigor and intensity you let out an airy whine, deepening the kiss. With expert hands, he undressed you, tugging your clothes off piece by piece, lips pressed into every patch of exposed skin. Once you're completely bare and laid bare under him, you could see Jeno swallow the lump that formed in his throat, pupils blown wide and wanting and full of lust and wonder. He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear with his index and traces it across your cheek.

"For starters," Jeno lets out, eyes wandering from the top of your head, the downcast gaze slowly going to the valley of your chest and lower and lower until your abdomen. He hums appreciatively and smirks when he comes back up. 

"You have the most beautiful face." His other hand comes up to stroke your hair softly. "Most beautiful lips, most beautiful skin." Jeno tucks your hair behind your ear and leans closer.

"So you only fell in love with my beauty?" you jest, earning a teasing nip from him.

"Such a sassy mouth," Jeno tugs your ear. "Definitely more."

"Then don't just say that and show me what that trouble is all about," you sit up and give him a push. Jeno's quick to obey as he flips you on top of him, hands moving to rub and grope your ass, hips circling to meet his. Your fingers are under his shirt and lifting it to pull it over his head. Your fingers work his belt buckle and buttons of his jeans, his briefs quickly following and joining your clothes on his floor. He sits back and watches you with a lascivious gaze.

"Go on," you order gently. "Tell me more. I wanna hear what kind of trouble I cause you."

Your voice takes Jeno's body prisoner as you speak in a seductive, smoky tone, whispering and purring in his ear as you press the pad of your middle finger against the middle of his chest, rubbing slowly downward and leaving a trail of tingly goosebumps, a breathless groan coming from his throat.

"Do I have to?" he throws his head back, sighing blissfully when you run both hands down his sides, brushing the tip of your thumbs under his collar bones and digging them in, relishing the little hisses and grunts. Jeno lets you handle his body the way you want, turning his body at will and pulling and pushing him, settling on top of his torso as you drag the blunt fingernails of your index finger, lightly down his abdomen and chuckling. "Baby, you're driving me insane right now."

"That's the point," you reply smugly.

"Do what you want," Jeno lays back, defeated.

"Yeah?" He's mesmerized the second your fingers intertwine with his, the intensity and chemistry sparking between the two of you burning and heavy with raw arousal, and he loves every fucking second of it. Loves that you've allowed him the opportunity to love and indulge in a human like you. You settle down on his thighs, the heat of the fire pooling below, his length twitching and hardening to life. "Trouble's gonna be fucking huge."

Jeno's laughing at your silly behavior and your hands running along every crevice of his body. It's all so warm and sweet and pleasant and just feels so damn right and-

"You're my fucking trouble, Jeno," you swipe your tongue over his jaw. "Only you and you alone."

"You're my trouble too, sweetheart," he responds smoothly, voice thick and raspy. "Everything about you is trouble and there's no looking back."

He tilts his head and plants a tender kiss to your parted lips, this time with no sense of hurry or hurry. It's an act of affection and honesty. You feel yourself melt in his palms and inside the recess of his heart. You could stay like this, here with Jeno, forever.

You'd gladly welcome a future with him.

You place your forehead against Jeno's, hands holding his jaw as he runs his fingers up and down your bare back. Jeno is everything and more that you've wanted and more. With every touch and soft kiss, a rush runs through you, an electricity in the air.  You slowly lowered yourself on his shaft, feeling yourself clench around him, sighing his name.

"I'm fine," you answered, rocking your hips back and forth and placing a chaste kiss on his lips.

He's gazing intently in the low light of his room. "Sure?"

Buried to the hilt, you find his hands with yours, entwining them together with ease. They're bigger than yours and your hands fit perfectly around the grooves in his palms. Jeno rolls his hips into yours slowly. The tingles are back, the sweet sounds of pleasure elicited from his lips sending your heart on an endless beat. "Yeah, I'm more than sure."

With a firm and steady grasp on your hips and the curve in your backside, the pair of you become one. The motion of your bodies blends in perfect synchrony and all other noises fade. You can feel the ecstasy as his cock slips in and out with every grind of your hips. He leans forward, brushing your nose before angling his mouth to meet yours. It's a deep, emotional kiss; Jeno holds you tenderly while you gently caress the nape of his neck. As his lips move with yours, his cock presses in deeper and you're unable to resist moaning. It's a delicious rhythm that fills your senses. You'll remember his gentle thrusting for the rest of your life, each movement slow, allowing the sensation to build. Jeno feels too good and you can't help yourself from breaking away and gasping his name into the silence.

"That's my girl," Jeno trails his teeth along your collarbone. You grab at his back, sure that the scratches will leave a mark or two. You don't want to imagine it ending. You grip his ass with one hand and encourage the tempo of his hips.

You continue rocking with him, wanting it to last, savouring the feel. His pace builds in intensity as the need builds, the thickness filling you so nicely. He continues with long and even strokes. With his cock driving in and out of you at a tantalizing speed, you could feel your own need for release rising. 

"Fuck, sweetheart, you're so fucking amazing," he breathes. The pleasure is exquisite and you whimper. 

"J-Jeno, oh my god..." your moans rise in pitch as you get lost in the sensations and reach the highest peak of bliss, waves of orgasmic shudders rolling through you, and his name spilling from your lips.

"Come on, cum for me baby. Come for me, princess, just like that. Good girl," Jeno groans when you release, burying your nails into his scalp, your walls tightening around him and his cock still deep inside.

Waves crash through Jeno as his hot seed hits your wall, filling you up, a final curse falling from his lips. He holds your head and sighs heavily. His heart pounds as he holds you, a reassuring palm resting between your shoulder blades. He collapses back on the bed, bringing you down on his chest, listening to the heavy, ragged pants as you recover from your high.

When the moment settles and you can think coherently again, Jeno lifts himself up to lean against the bedrest while you perch your chin upon his pec, hands roaming along the contours of his shoulders and upper body, eyes fixated and mesmerized by him, eyes almost glossed over.

"Hey," he whispers.

"Hey there," you respond breathlessly.

A large hand moves the strands of sweat slicked hair plastered to your face. His touch is a little ticklish on your skin and you resist the temptation to wriggle away.

"Thirsty? I know I'm really thirsty," Jeno grins when you nod and sigh, and walks out of his bedroom stark naked and ready to fetch drinks for the two of you. The sound of his bare feet patting down the hallway fills the room as you stretch and throw yourself back on the pillows and his scent. It's him. Nothing else but him.

Just Jeno.

Minutes later he returns with a cold glass of water for you, helping you sit up and urging you to take it all. A pleased, content moan is expelled as he drinks his beverage.

“Feel better now?” Jeno asked.

You nod. He climbs back into bed, reaching over to place his own cup on the nightstand.

"Now come here and let's cuddle," he spreads his arms for you to curl up in them.

"Scooch over then," you commanded.

"Scooch?" he asks incredulously and laughs.

"Yes," you position yourself against his body, loving the way his muscular body curves around and around. "You and your massive shoulders are too wide and there's barely enough room on this bed. Scooch and cuddle me."

His laugh shakes you, making you join in the fun, a happy, airy tingle zinging up and down your spine.

"So bossy," Jeno complains, though his hand is warm on your lower back and his chin is hooked on top of your head. 

You love this position because you get to use the strong planes of his body like a pillow, nestling between the nooks and crannies of him. "And you love it."

"Mhm, yeah." A blanket is drawn up over the two of you and you settle in, nose rubbing in the hollow of his neck, comfort and the calming presence of Jeno lulling you to sleep. "I really do."

[bunnys-kisses]

bark, bark, bark

hybrid!john "soap" mactavish

cw: hybrid!au, smut/pwp, heat/rut, breeding, pregnancy, enemies-to-lovers, dog!reader, dog!john, owner!simon, doggy style filth

bunny says: like the fic? leave a comment! really love the fic? request your own!

"well, aren't ya just a dream." john said as he sat at the kitchen table. his tail swayed from side to side as he looked at you.

you were standing close to your new owner, simon riley. you had a pretty pink collar on and your ears were flat against your head. your arms were crossed and you looked annoyed.

john or 'soap' as simon called him, was a dog. as were you. while your breed was defined and regal. you were certain that simon found john behind a dumpster of a fish n' chips place. but you'd have to get along with your fellow hybrid if you didn't want to end up being re-homed.

john just thought you were perfect, but in as sneering kind of way. almost mocking as he pulled at your floppy ears and your hair. he even got you by the collar once and brought you to the tiled floor of the farmhouse the three of you lived in.

you'd often yip and growl at one another in the living room as you fought over the remote. which often left you both scolded by your owner. if you were on your knees one last time in front of simon while the larger man wagged a finger at you, you were going to put the mutt's throat between your teeth and clamp down.

but then it happened. something you had dreaded, you thought at least simon would've gotten you some birth control shots before you heat took over. you felt some embarrassed, like a fucking idiot because you were leaking all over the bed you slept in.

hybrids slept in beds like any other human, but while simon kept his minimal. yours was covered in all manners of pillows and stuffed animals. which gave you ample room to find something to put between your legs. you covered your mouth with your head as you got on your knees with the pillow between your legs.

you rutted against it, hoping that the fabric would catch your clit through your shorts. you whimpered a little but tightened your hand across your mouth. you hoped that john didn't catch the smell of your heat. the last thing you wanted was for that stupid dog to be smelling your pussy like the animal he was.

"fuck." you muttered to yourself as you found you couldn't get enough friction from the pillow. you peeled of your shorts with the crotch of your panties soaked, and put your legs on either side of the pillow once more and rutted against the edge.

you squeaked a little and panted around your hand as you rolled your hips. heat raced through your body and electricity was shot through your clit from the sensation of the pillow against it. you could only imagine the stain that would be left on the pillow by the time you were done.

your toes curled as you continued to move, you were getting lost in your head as you moved across the fabric. you let out the smalles tnoises and couldn't even stop to hear if you could hear anyone outside your door.

it was why you didn't hear the stealthy john come into your room, or creep towards you in the dark. his nose was in the air as the alluring scent of fertile hybrid filled his brain. you didn't even know he was so close until he pounced onto the bed and shoved you into the mountain of soft objects.

you yelped and tried to kick your legs out in defense, but he kept you pinned rather tightly to the bed. his nose was in your neck as he took a healthy inhale. he groaned and you felt his cock twitch against your bare ass.

you knew your pussy was getting the front of his shorts soaked.

"what do we have here?" he asked, already a little drunk from the scent, "is my girl fuckin' her pillows? bein' bad." he growled against your neck as he pushed you further into the bed, causing your hips to raise higher.

"john!" you yelped.

"that's it, doll. my precious girl. i know i tease ya, but this is worse than anything i've ever done." he said with a dark edge to his tone, "ruttin' in your bed all alone. with your mate."

you melted at the word, you hated him but the lust was clotting your brain from coherent thought. all you could feel about was the heat against you. the larger hybrid up against you.

"please, john." you whimpered, "you can't breed me. get simon."

he kissed at your neck, his fangs nipped against the back of it, he continued to rub up against you, "i don't think so, doll. i think you need me more than you need simon." his voice was low, "you need some cock." he chuckled, "my cock."

you whimpered, "please."

"don't worry, i promise i was a easy pup to rear." he chuckled lowly, "you, me and baby, quite the trio. maybe if we're lucky, we'll have two boys."

you whimpered, in your state the thought sounded alluring. you couldn't imagine alife without john in that moment. even though he bullied you, you couldn't imagine him NOT fucking you in that moment.

"ya like that don't ya, girlie. you like the idea of you being all pregnant with my pups. you'd be a lovely girl like that." he chuckled as he pulled down his shorts under his cock, freeing it.

his cock was impressive, it was large with heavy balls that showed that he'd be a good breeder. he was impressed with it and hoped it would fit in your tight virgin hole.

"here it comes, love." he said, "now be good for me, i want to feel every inch in ya." he chuckled as he guided his cock into your sweet hole, effectively ruining your virginity. he sank into it slowly and felt the air leave his chest.

"ah!" you whimpered as you buried your head further into the stuffed animals on your bed. you exhaled deeply to keep yourself relaxed so you didn't hurt yourself. but his cock was already deep in you.

"holy shit. i wished you went into heat sooner." he growled, "you feel amazin', doll. i could fuck ya forever, give ya a whole bunch of litters to take care of." he chuckled as he puffed his chest out with pride. his cock was a tight fit in you, but it felt so good. you were so wet that he slid in easily, there was no struggle to fuck his little wife.

wife, that was a term he would ever think that he'd call you. but what else would you be? a slut? his fuck hole?" the thought made him chuckle as he started to thrust in and out of you.

your eyes rolled back, his cock soothed the fire in your belly. it was what the primal part of your brain needed. you needed cock, specically HIS cock. it was the only thing that you'd allow in you. you didn't NEED simon, you just needed john to fuck the discomfort away!

easy as that, and john was happily able to do that for you. he would make you feel nice and good. he held you down by your head and you felt hot all over as he thrusted up into you. he growled and tried not to make too much noise to alert his owned.

your breathing was shaky as you clutched onto a pillow under your head. you panted heavily as you felt hot all over. this heat was almost painful and it ran like a current in your body. you felt skittish but drowning in the depths of pleasure.

"ah! please! ah!" you panted, "john, please."

"i got ya, lass." he chuckled, "don't worry. i'll make it all better. don't worry about anything." he continued to thrust in and out of you. he felt hot all over too. his head was clouded with the scent of your want for him.

his heart raced as he felt his t-shirt cling to his chest as he continued to move. you tried to meet his pace but your brain was so empty that you could barely keep up. you had never felt this full before. you whimpered so pathetically, john just knew that he would have to take care of you. after all that was what a husband did.

your lover, your husband, the father to your many, many pups. that was a title he could be proud of. it only fueled him to bury his cock deeper inside of you. the bed squeaked and john breathed heavily through his nose as his hips slapped against your ass.

"pretty thing." he purred, "bein' such a bitch all this time. but i knew better, i knew you wanted me." he chuckled a little, proud of himself that he got to bed the little birdie that has been in his home the past couple of months.

"john." you said lazily, "it feels so good." you panted wildly. you felt like there was a flat line in your head, everything kind of rolled off your tongue without thinking much of it. ypur cutn was soaked, you could feel the wetness all the way down to the back fo your thighs.

"so good." he said, "simon is gonna know how good you were for me. once you're all swollen with my puppies. keep ya nice and fat with litter after litter. i'll make sure nothin' happens to them, our little family." he panted wildly like the dog he was. he threw his head back as his hips bounced against you. his cock pushed in and out of your aching hole.

he would douse the fire in your soul, he'll simmer you down. but in exchange you'll get morning sickness and in nine months squirming hybrids in your arms. you moaned at the thought, you knew you were close to your climax.

"mine. got it?" he said, less like a question and more like a statement as he pulled your head away from the pillows. you gasped for air after being in the heat of the pillows.

you moaned loudly as you felt yourself climax around his cock. further making a mess. he growled in happiness as he gave one last thrust of his hips and he finished inside of you.

the noise must've woken up simon. because when he went into your room, he found you going at it once more. he sighed and made a note to get you some plan b in the morning. he didn't need more puppies roaming the halls of the farmhouse.

he also reminded himself to get you some birth control shots to make sure this didn't happen again.

-

simon's plan failed. it failed pretty badly. because by the time he got the birth control. it was too late, you were pregnant with john's baby. simon was thankful that it was just ONE.

at least you two got along...

"goodamnit, soap!" you shrieked.

there was a commotion in the kitchen. simon sighed and got up from his seat. he saw one very pregnant hybrid and the one who got her pregnant in the kitchen. you two were snapping jaws at one another.

"i wish you'd go back to fuckin'." he grumbled.

[amiableness]

Dad!James Potter x Bsf!Reader ☼ 1036 words | briefly 18+, and thank you to @moonpascal for your thoughts and ideas!

You only agreed to go to the pub because James seemed keen, but in all honesty, you’d much rather be tangled up in his bedsheets with him. Slipping into a dress that hugged you perfectly and dabbing on a pretty red lip was a definite perk, though. 

This was one of your first outings with your friends now that James and you were officially together. Telling your friends had caused quite a scene. Marlene’s excitement was so loud you half-wondered if your hearing would ever be the same, while Lily, genuinely happy for you, seemed like she might tear up any second.

The pub is buzzing with chatter and clinking glasses as you settle into a cozy corner with your friends. James has his arm draped casually around your shoulders, his thumb absentmindedly tracing circles on your skin. 

You’re lost in thought, your mind drifting to Henry and wondering how he’s doing with the babysitter. You know he’s probably fine—he always lights up when Angela’s around—but it still feels strange not being the one there with him. Sure, it means you get a night out with James, but part of you can’t help missing those quiet nights with Henry, just the two of you.

You're so lost in thought that you don’t even notice the man approaching the table. He claps Sirius and Remus, both of whom have their backs to him, on the shoulder with a bit too much enthusiasm. Remus flinches, startled, while Sirius practically leaps out of his seat.

“Boys!” he calls out, a cheery smile on his face, and you can tell he’s been drinking a tad too much. “Long time no see, mates.”

"Colin!" James lights up, his grin matching the man's excitement. You barely recognize him—maybe you’ve seen him in old photos with James and the boys, but it’s clear they haven’t kept in touch much since school. "How’ve you been?"

Colin launches into a debrief about his life after school. And the boys listen and sprinkle in a few comments to show they’re listening. Marlene meets your eye and fakes a yawn, which makes you smile. You weren’t listening all that much, either.

“Wait!” You glance up at Colin’s sharp exclamation and realize he’s looking at you. “You’re Henry’s mum!”

Without thinking, you smile and nod. If you hadn’t had those two drinks, you might have hesitated and weighed your words more carefully. But in your heart, you already considered yourself Henry’s mum—James had even told you that Henry called you that when they were alone. The only thing missing was Henry saying it to your face. “Yeah,” you say softly, a warmth spreading in your chest. “I am.”

James nearly knocks over his drink, freezing mid-reach as your words sink in. His eyes widen in surprise, and the usual confident grin falters, leaving him completely flustered. Sirius and Remus exchange an amused glance, barely containing their smirks at how thoroughly you've caught him off guard.

He knew you hadn’t wanted to go out tonight. The way you’d flashed him that pouty lip when he mentioned the group plans and how you'd been invited—it had almost broken him. Now, as he sat here, he was wishing he’d caved and stayed in with you. 

But then, he wouldn’t have heard you call yourself Henry’s mum.

He hardly hears the conversation happening between you and Colin. Instead, he’s lost in thoughts of making you his wife and giving Henry a sibling—or maybe two or three. His mind flashes with images of you, stomach full and swollen. He likes the idea of everyone knowing how well he’d fucked you. So pretty and so full of him. His throat feels dry, and the last place he wants to be is in this pub. He wants to be home, burying himself inside of you as you beg him to make you a mum.

He stands up abruptly, the chair squeaking as it scrapes against the floor, propelled back with surprising force. All eyes turn toward him, curiosity etched on their faces as he reaches for your purse, which hangs off the back of your chair.

“I’ve forgotten that our babysitter has to go by midnight.” James rushes out. “We have to get home.” 

Colin doesn’t seem to notice James’ sudden urgency, but you do, your brow furrowing as you catch his impatient glance. She didn’t have to leave by midnight—James had told you both that the night would stretch longer. Still, when he stands and extends his hand to you, you take it without hesitation. Your goodbyes to Colin and the others are rushed, barely uttered, before James is already tugging you out of the pub, his grip firm as if he can’t wait another second to get you alone.

“Jamie, what is going on?” You ask as you step into the cool night air, the door slamming shut behind you and effectively cutting off the lively chatter of the pub.

“Fuck, do you know what hearing you call yourself Henry’s mum did to me?” He rasps out your name, and the tone of his voice sends a thrill through you—it's unmistakably filled with desire. You reach his parked car, and he sharply flings open the door for you, the sudden movement catching you off guard. 

You stand there, fully aware that he’s waiting for you to get in, but you don’t move. Instead, you watch him closely, taking in every detail. His cheeks are flushed, and his breathing is uneven, revealing just how much your comment has affected him. The anticipation hangs between you, thick and electric, and you revel in the power you have over him in this moment.

“Baby, get in the car. Please,” He nearly begs, “I can’t wait any longer.”

“You don’t want me in the car?” You tease, the flirtation in your voice almost sending him over the edge. You can see the effect it has on him by the way he inhales sharply, his eyes fluttering shut as if he’s trying to regain control.

“I’m trying to be a gentleman, which means getting you home so I can take you in our bed,” He breathes out. “Get in the car.”

You don’t need any more convincing after that.

please please please consider reblogging and/or commenting. they keep me motivated to continue writing and reblogging spreads my work 🤍

[muchosbesitos]

DOUBLE OR NOTHING— featuring toji fushiguro x wife! reader

after countless empty promises spilled from his lips, you wanted to believe that he’d show up to your anniversary of all things.

contents: 18+ content, minors dni. marriage problems, talks of divorce, (some) angst, smut, porn w minimal plot, cunnilingus w fingering, toji being a panty sniffer briefly mentioned, unprotected p in v, spanking (twice), backshots, missionary against a wall, toji kinda being an ass (what did you expect), pet names (ma, doll, etc.)

word count: 5k

author’s note: back from the dead sry

"I'll make it home to you by six, mama. Take you out on a nice date, get you some flowers, all that stuff you like. Promise."

The clock was nearing eight o'clock with no signs of Toji coming through the door anytime soon, your own patience starting to run out with every tick. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. The sound echoed through your ears since you'd sat down on the leather couch nearly two hours ago, waiting for Toji to fulfill the promise. A promise that he'd made after flaking out on the date planned prior to that one.

And prior to that one. And prior. It'd been more missed dates than actual ones that he'd taken you out by now—you weren't exactly sure why you'd hoped for tonight to be different. Well, you knew exactly why. Today marked three years of being married to one another. You knew that he didn't prioritize date nights with you as much as he should, but you had held some sort of foolish hope that your anniversary would mean something—anything to him.

The divorce papers felt like a dead weight in your hand, much like how your relationship would be the second that you brought it up. It all just seemed so final, seeing the terms laid out that would end years of marriage. Just by the flick of a pen. But the idea was almost like a reprieve, like something that was worth looking forward to. You shook your head, getting up from the couch to set the stack of papers on the kitchen table where Toji wouldn't miss them.

Another half hour of eerie silence and Toji still hadn't come through the door. It was getting increasingly difficult to keep some semblance of hope that he'd even show up at all, much less for your date. You admitted defeat, slipping off your heels and pulling up a throw blanket over yourself. Succumbing to the sleep that was weighing down on your eyelids.

You weren't even sure how much time had passed when you heard the door swing open, the door hitting the wall from the force. The thud of his shoes hitting the tile followed, a grumble leaving Toji's lips. "Fuckin' bastards rigged that race. Robbed me of fifty bucks," he muttered to himself, slipping his coat off before placing it up on the coat rack.

"You're home late," you called out, watching as Toji turned to look at the couch before flicking on one of the living room lights. "Jesus woman, you scared me," he grumbled, a large hand resting by his chest as he looked over in your direction. Toji rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion lingering on his face like a second skin. It was only then that he looked over at you, really looked at you, and what you were wearing.

Ah shit.

Almost as if he wanted to make the situation worse, he'd chosen to go with, "You got all dolled up just to fall asleep on the couch?" You could've sworn you felt your eye twitch at the question. He'd barely opened up his mouth and you were already wishing that he didn't even bother showing up for the night.

Toji knew he was in deep shit with each step he took into the living room, his mind already starting to work overdrive to figure out what he could do for what he'd missed. A date? No, you wouldn't have put on the very expensive pair of Louboutins for just any date. His mind was blanking on anything other than the numbers that he'd lost with earlier in the day. Come on, think.

"No, I got dolled up because I thought I'd be going out with my husband tonight," you retorted dryly, smudges of eyeshadow sticking to your hand when you went to rub at your eyes. You could see Toji's brows furrow, the wheels seeming to turn in his head for once, before a look of realization settled on his features.

"Look, I'm sorry. I got carried away at the casino," one of the many excuses you'd heard before coming back to bite you in the ass. The same excuse that he'd used last month when he forgot about a work party you'd mentioned to him. Which wouldn't have been too bad if it weren't for all the snide comments being whispered in your direction and all the unwarranted marriage advice.

Advice that you ended up forgetting about chugging down two glasses of tequila like water. "I'll make it up to you, I swear. You can pick the place and all that shit." There went another one. He'd really topped himself using the two of them in a row. You rubbed the bridge of your nose, looking over at him in disbelief. "Do you even know what today was? Why I'm so pissed off?"

"It's your birthday?" Toji spoke after a couple seconds, the answer clearly wrong just by the look on his face. You rubbed a hand over your face, standing up from your spot on the couch. "It's our wedding anniversary, Toji," you spoke up before he made another guess that would just piss you off even further, "And I have something I need to talk to you about. It's on the kitchen table."

Underneath the vase filled with wilted flowers—a collection more than anything that you kept around as a reminder that Toji used to care, was a stack of papers. He placed the vase down on the table with more force than necessary upon realizing what the documents were. "A divorce?" The words slipped out of him with such venom, such distaste, like the idea was unfathomable.

Toji slammed the papers down on the table, the salt and pepper shakers trembling before falling over. "Is that really what you want?" He stepped closer to you when you approached the table, his hands instinctively moving to hold your hips. Holding you close to his body. "No, I didn't get married with the intention of getting a divorce. But you've been neglecting this marriage for a couple months now."

"I'll make it up to you now," Toji spoke quickly, like he was afraid of losing you at any moment. Like you'd disappear if he didn't. And as much as you wanted to avoid looking over at him, the task had just become all that much difficult when you had nowhere else to look at. It only took one glance at his face to realize just what he meant by 'making it up to you.'

"You think you're gonna fix months of pushing me aside with just sex?"

"Nah, I know it's gonna take more. But you've been so tired, isn't that right? So tired of tryin' to keep this marriage from falling apart and nobody taking care of you?" His words were like a siren's song when he whispered them in your ear, your traitorous body leaning back to meet the drag of your fingertips. It was almost laughable at how easily your resolve had melted. "Lemme take care of you mama. Promise I'll make you feel good."

"You wanna call me a dick, never wanna see me again? That's fine, just don't deny me one last taste. Please," And while Toji wasn't a man to beg for anything in his life, he found himself saying the words anyways. "Thought this was you making it up to me," and as much as you were willing yourself not to fold, you felt yourself spreading your legs almost instinctively when his finger dragged up your inner thigh.

"Can't it be both?" Toji's teeth nipped at your neck, licking a stripe up the junction of your neck. Practically salivating at the taste of you, of the expensive perfume you'd put on just a mere hours beforehand. "One could say that you're just being selfish," your words quickly died out when Toji started sucking on your pulse point, your own heartbeat betraying you. You'd expected Toji to sass you back, say something about how your body was just so needy against his touch.

But instead, he dropped down to his knees in front of you. The wooden floor underneath his knees almost made him feel bad for all the times he had you in a similar position. Almost. Toji looked up at you, "Selfish only when it comes to you."

Every slow drag of his fingertips across your smooth skin seemed almost reverent— like you were something to worship. You were, he just failed to realize that until now. Until you were almost out the door. "I'm sorry," the first real apology of the night slipped out of his mouth, his lips pressed against your shin. "I'm sorry," he moved up to your knee, repeating the action. Hushed whispers of I'm sorry's and featherlight kisses moving up your legs, stopping only when he gets to your clothed cunt.

"I'm sorry," Toji uttered his last apology against your cunt, his eyes locking onto yours as he applied an open mouthed kiss on your clothed clit. Barely darting his tongue out, swirling it against the nerves that were just begging for one ounce of stimulation. And he was practically reveling in how needy he made you in the span of seconds. Your back arched to rest against the seat behind you, one of your hands going to rest on his head.

Toji's fingers dragged slowly in between your folds, feeling the wet patch already starting to form through the thin lace material. You refused to make eye contact with him, knowing that if you did, he'd be able to see just how desperate you were in just a manner of seconds. Even if the bastard probably had a clue already. "You sure your pussy agrees with the divorce?" His voice came out to something akin to a purr, the drag of his fingers slowing down.

Getting you even more worked up than you were already. "Fucking hate you, can't even apologize right," you let out a hiss, your hand going down to his hair. Pulling his head even closer to you despite your previous claim. "Fine, I'll apologize correctly," Toji sounded like you were the one inconveniencing him—to which you were. He wanted to take his time with his meal, have you begging for him to touch you. And normally, he would've.

If he weren't desperate to have your cunt on his face again after weeks, months? of just having his fist to work with. His fist and a used pair of your panties up to his nose like a pervert, hips humping the air in desperation. Imagining that it was your tongue flicking across his leaking tip instead of his thumb, that it was your soft hands in exchange of his rough ones. And as easy as it was for him to get laid—he didn't want to be with anyone that wasn't you.

Toji hadn't tasted someone as sweet as you, heard someone so angelic before, but now he supposed that maybe he'd have to put that theory to the test if you left him after all. Just the idea was maddening. That someone else would be doing the same thing that he's doing to you now, that they'd give you the affection that he should've given.

"Especially sorry to you. Been neglecting you for too long," he hooked his fingers around the side of your panties, pulling them to the side just enough to reveal your slick folds to him. Toji swiped the tip of his finger along your entrance, your slick glistening against the harsh kitchen lighting before he stuck in his mouth. Swirling his tongue around it, licking away at it like the slut he was.

And like the deprived man that he'd been, Toji's hands went to the lace of your underwear and stretched it out until a loud rip echoed throughout the kitchen. "You always this wet for people you hate? Or is that just for me?" Toji taunted, pushing your tattered panties down to your ankles. Finally leaning in closer to where you were aching for him to touch you. To do something other than just tease you relentlessly.

Toji settled on his knees behind you, spreading your legs open like you were his favorite meal. His tongue swiped up on your dripping cunt, licking up your essence with sheer greed. "Mmph fuck, so good," his words came out muffled, his tongue swiping across your folds before darting inside of your cunt. Your grip on the table tightened, your hips working on their own accord to push back onto his face. Practically suffocating him in your pussy. Not that he minded. By any means.

Toji practically welcomed it, his hands pushing you down onto his face. Getting absorbed in your cunt completely. "A-Ah fuck, Toji!" You could already see the noise complaint hanging on your front door first thing in the morning. But how could you be expected to keep your voice down? Toji spread your folds apart with two fingers as if he were preparing for a feast, his tongue feverishly licking in between.

"Fuckin' soaked already, knew you loved me," The vibration of the low chuckle that followed his words shot currents up your spine, your ass jiggling all that much more in his face. With such a decadent taste coating his taste buds, dying by your pussy would be nothing short of a blissful way to go out. One of the fingers that he'd been using to spread your folds had been pushed inside of your cunt, your walls clenching around him.

Toji's tongue flicked against your clit, swirling the tip around the bud while his finger slowly pushed further inside of you. The loud squelch of your cunt was the only thing that filled the apartment, everything else completely silent. Your fingers dug deeper into his scalp, a low groan leaving his lips. "F-Fuck, Toji Toji," he pushed another thick finger inside, moving them in a scissoring motion to stretch you out.

"You think y're gonna find someone who can do this?" Toji looked up at you, his fingers curling up to hit that spongy spot inside of you almost perfectly. And if you didn't know any better, you'd almost say that he looked vulnerable while he made the question. Toji's lips wrapped around your clit, gently sucking on it as his fingers worked you closer and closer to your orgasm. You couldn't bring yourself to answer—didn't trust yourself to speak.

"Toji, Toji, gonna cum," you gave him a warning, your jaw falling slack and your lips parting in a o-shape. Soundless moans leaving your lips, feeling that coil in your lower tummy start to tighten up all the much more. With one final pump of his fingers, you were covering his lips with your release. His tongue swiped across his lips, across the scar that he hated, collecting every drop. Savoring what he imagined would be the last taste of you.

"Turn around," It was almost embarrassing how quickly you'd turned around per your soon-to-be ex husband's request.

Toji didn't take more than a couple seconds in unbuttoning his pants and taking them off, his cock hitting his stomach once it was released from its confines. Precum dribbled from his annoyingly almost pretty pink tip, dripping onto the floor. Drip. Drip. Drip. His cock slid through your folds like a slip n slide, your previous orgasm coating his tip with every lazy drag. "Toji," your voice bordered on a whine, pushing your hips to try to meet his movements.

"Tell me what you want," Toji clicked his tongue, one of his hands moving to hold your waist. Keeping you completely still until he got what he wanted. You figured there wasn't any harm in whining—you were already fucking the man after you brought up a divorce. There truly wasn't that much more to lose. "Why do I have to ask for it when you're the one apologizing?"

"Because you're the one pushing your hips back against me. All needy 'n shit. So.. beg."

"Want you inside me, Toji. Please."

"Want?"

You let out a huff before correcting yourself, "Need."

"Come on, doll. You can say it nicer than that, right?" Toji's pointer trailed up your torso, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

So goddamn annoying. You swallowed whatever pride you had left before looking back over at him, "Please, Toji. Need your cock in me. Please."

Toji clicked his tongue, one hand wrapping around his cock and giving himself a couple tentative pumps. "Think you can beg better than that. But since I'm feeling nice, I guess I'll let it slide." So much for feeling apologetic. Toji pushed his cock inside of you in one swift motion, a hiss leaving your lips at the stretch. Even with the fingers that'd been inside of you, nothing could've really prepared you.

"You okay?" Toji dropped his head to rest on your shoulder, whispering the words in your ear. Staying still while your walls tried to adjust to the overwhelming stretch. "You try taking your cock," you muttered dryly, giving him a nod to start moving. "Why would I do that when you take it so well?" Toji pushed the rest of his cock inside, his hands resting on your hips.

Toji wasn't particularly known for being gentle—the one hospital visit after he'd injured your cervix more than enough proof of that, but he started off slow. Slow, shallow thrusts. Fucking you in a way that he hasn't since your honeymoon. "Toji, you can speed up," you assured him, your words getting cut off with a smack to your ass. "What I'd say about tellin' me what to do?" Ah, there was the mean Toji that you recognized.

"Wouldn't need to tell you what to do if my vibrator wasn't looking more appealing right now."

Famous last words.

The change was almost immediate. Mascara dribbled down your cheeks, the sight of your once composed makeup all ruined making Toji's cock twitch inside of you. "Fucking pretty like this, y'know?" His teeth sunk down on the junction of your shoulder, his teeth grazing across the sensitive flesh. His hips snapped roughly into yours, your breathing growing erratic. "Fuck, Fuck, Toji!"

The coldness of his gold wedding band hit your skin as soon as he went to grip your hips, holding you against him like he needed to be close to you. The two of you had been distant for some time and he hadn't bothered to take off his wedding band once, not even on the rare occasion that he actually did happen to take a job. Toji would never admit it, of course—but he was starved for the feeling of your skin against his own.

To confirm that you were still here after all.

Your hands reached out to grab to whatever you could grab—anything, and of course, it just happened to be the divorce papers sitting on the middle of the table. Practically taunting you as your own signature glared back at you. "This good enough for you, princess?" Toji taunted in your ear, his blunt fingernails digging into your sides. "Mhm, j-just like that," your voice came out in a mewl, all bits of defiance completely out of your system.

"There you go. Nasty fucking girl," Toji all but purred in your ear the moment you started to jerk your hips back to meet his own, your ass bouncing with each one of his thrusts. "Just needed Toji to take care of ya," all you could was nod your head fervently, your grip on the divorce papers tightening. And Toji, of course, took notice. He took the papers from you with one hand, giving them a once-over before passing them back over.

"Come on, since ya wanted it so bad, read me those divorce papers," Toji handed you the stack of papers, pointing to where you'd signed your initials just a couple hours prior. Your hands shook as you held the papers, your vision blurry as you tried to make out the legal jargon in front of you. Even the simplest of words seemed all too complicated to try to make out.

"T-Toji, I can't," your voice cracked, your grip on the papers tightening when his cock reached all that much deeper inside of you. Toji clicked his tongue, peering over your shoulder to read the first sentence from the document. "That's not what it says ma, try again."

"Without all the stuttering too."

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to focus on the words in front of you instead of Toji's cock sinking further and further into you. "S-Says that the divorce agreement was made today between us," you clutched the sheets tighter, your eyes almost rolling back when Toji bottomed out inside of you. The tip of his cock dripping precum, your walls fluttering as you tried to get adjusted.

"Mm, yeah, keep goin'," Toji really couldn't care—his focus solely on the way that your cunt stretched out to fit his cock. Leaking around his shaft, loud squelches when he pulled out overplaying whatever shitty soap opera was playing. "And what'd I say about the s-stuttering?" Toji mocked your words, his own hips stuttering mere seconds later while he tried not to get absorbed in your cunt. Not that it was an easy task by any means.

It was hard, especially with the way that you claimed to be over this marriage despite your pussy claiming otherwise. When you opened your mouth to speak, the only thing that left you was a moan. "F-Fuck Toji, right there," your eyes shut tightly at the touch of his calloused hand making itself in between your legs, his thumb rubbing at your clit in a speed that felt like it combated his own running abilities.

"That's not what it says, c'mon," Toji grabbed your chin with his thumb and pointer, turning your head to face the overwhelmingly long divorce papers. You wouldn't finish tonight if he intended for you to read the whole thing, you knew that much. A harsh slap against your swollen clit made the pleasure coursing through your veins mix with pain, a shaky gasp leaving your kiss-swollen lips.

Drool leaked from the corner of your mouth, the black ink smearing with each drop that fell from your parted lips. Your walls enveloped every inch of his cock perfectly, your cunt holding his cock in a vice-like grip. "That I won't try to t-take your things," you managed to get out, hoping that it would be good enough. You knew the two of you wouldn't finish today if he made you read the never ending stack of papers. 

"Good enough," Toji sounded like he would've kept it going if he could, but you set them down as quickly as he spoke. It was almost like Toji was trying to remind you of why you'd fallen in love with him in the first place—the man reverent to your cunt and your cunt only. Every grip of your hips kept you closer and closer to his body, almost as a way for Toji to make sure you weren't slipping away.

"Wh—" Before you had the chance to complain about the loss of contact, Toji had already carried you without a smidge of struggle. His hands hooked underneath your plush thighs, hoisting you up against the wall. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his slutty waist, practically clinging onto him like a koala. "There we go, there's that pretty lil face," Toji placed his pointer underneath your chin, taking in the view in front of him.

The glazed over look in your eyes, the sweat beading up on your forehead, the makeup that he'd successfully ruined—everything about you was just so beautiful. How you tried to avoid looking in his direction for too long. "Don't leave me ma, need you in my life," the words were whispered into your ear, his cock pushing back inside of you in one swift motion. Toji's fingers went back to your throbbing clit, his pointer and middle rubbing against it at the perfect speed.

Not too fast, not too slow, and not too rough.

"Don't ask me to do that," you almost sounded pained as you spoke—not from him filling you up, but for the implication of his words. You'd practically babble anything right now, anything for him to keep going. To forget about the reality that awaits the two of you. Toji's lips found yours in an instant, the exchange between the two of you almost depraved. His mouth was feverish in the way that it moved against yours, like he'd never get the chance again.

Your hand went to the back of his head, pushing him closer against you. Letting yourself forget for just a little while longer. A string of saliva connected your lips to his when you pulled away—only to catch air. "I’m close, Toji, so close," you whined against his lips, your release coating his shaft a mere moments later. Toji only used that as lubricant, his movements quicker against your cunt to chase his own release.

"There's no one else for me, I'll stop goin' to t-the casino, stop gettin' into trouble," Toji had been reduced to a babbling the first thing he pulled out of his ass, if only to get you to stay. His head rested against the junction of your neck, basking in the remnants of proximity that he could get. Shaky breaths left his lips with each thrust of his hips, feeling himself getting closer and closer. "You've been saying that since we've been married."

"I mean it this time, I promise," you'd never heard a lie sound so pretty slipping from someone's lips before until now.

He bit down on the side of your neck, hard. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to where you'd probably have to use a tube of concealer to even attempt to cover up the bruising mark. Causing you problems even now. But you'd be lying if the sudden act of possessiveness had your walls clenching against him even tighter, if that was even possible anymore.

His cock was barely moving against the tight grip you held around his shaft, his pace stuttering. "Fuck, fuck, so tight," Toji let out a loud groan, completely at the will of your pussy. He threw his head back, a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks in this lighting. Ropes and ropes of cum decorated your cunt, his softening length snug inside of you. Toji ended up pulling out a couple moments later, scooping the drops of cum that leaked down your thighs with his finger.

Toji was shameless in the way that he stuck the finger in his mouth, a low moan leaving his lips at the combined taste of him and you. Before your rationality came back, before you got the chance to even think about regretting this, you leaned in and crashed your lips against his own. Tasting yourself on his tongue. The kiss lingered between the two of you more than it needed to, it was less rushed than the prior ones you'd shared.

Like a last taste.

"So, you still want to get that divorce?" Toji knew you would've just babbled whatever for him to keep going, saving the question until now. His movements were almost reluctant as he pulled his pants over his legs once again, making little attempt to fix up his hair. If anything, his fingers only ended up messing the strands even more. Despite knowing the answer deep down, Toji still held out hope. That maybe you'd had some eye-opening moment while he was balls-deep.

You stood up properly, looking over at the ruined sheets on the table before looking back over at him. "I do," you spoke after a couple seconds, grabbing your tattered panties from the floor and smoothing over your dress. Trying to maintain whatever semblance of dignity you had left. Even if it was probably just as tattered up as your underwear at this point.

"Why? You know I love you. You know that you love me. So why should we get separated?" You did know that. But you also weren't sure that he'd ever loved you enough to consider changing. To consider the fact that you needed some sort of affection outside of sex.

"Because you think that somehow every problem between us can be resolved with sex. You say that you want to do better and yet, you never do. It doesn't even feel like you're my husband half of the time," all the bottled up feelings from the past couple months spilled out of you in a manner of seconds. All the bottled up thoughts that maybe you should've told your husband about earlier. Though, you weren't even sure if Toji would've paid it any mind.

And almost as if he'd read your train of thought, "Why didn't you tell me about all this before just hittin' me with divorce papers?"

"Because the few times that I did, you told me to stop bitching. That I shouldn't have anything to complain about with a roof over my head and a fridge full of food," you started off, almost waiting for him to deny what you were saying, "And while I'm not saying that I'm not thankful for those things, I also don't want to feel ungrateful for saying that I miss my husband."

Silence lingered between the two of you, each second that passed by only confirming what the two of you already knew by now. That a divorce wasn't such a far-fetched idea. Toji knew there wasn't left to even attempt fighting for, so he simply just told you, "I'll sign 'em when you get the new ones."