#maybe some sort of pre-game thing?

[crossdressingdeath]

Now that I have everyone's responses to the "Durge was an Absolutist leader" reveal, I have thoughts. I think the whole thing works best if you tell the party about you being Bhaalspawn before going to the inauguration, because if you do that they're all like "It's okay, you don't have to be evil, you can fight your father, you have to fight your father" and while some Durges would probably be upset about the repeated insistence that they Mustn't Be Evil it's definitely well-intentioned and they want to support you. And then you get to the inauguration and they're furious about the Absolutist reveal. Which is mostly fair (Shadowheart getting mad at you specifically for not telling anyone when she knows you have amnesia is just a little unreasonable), but it's also like. all that support goes away the second they learn you weren't a good little non-murdery heroic Bhaalspawn like Gorion's Ward. To be fair, their anger and sense of betrayal are understandable, it's a hell of a thing to learn and I get the sense that the party really doesn't grasp just how strong Bhaal's hold on Durge is (I don't think it's a coincidence that Jaheira and Minsc are two of the calmest about the Bhaalspawn reveal or that Jaheira takes the Bhaal's Chosen reveal better than most of the party, they have more experience and so have a better understanding of what being Bhaalspawn actually means, but even they don't as far as I'm aware know about the "literally crafted from Bhaal's divine essence" situation)! I can definitely see why they for the most part react so overwhelmingly negatively, I would too in their position. But at the same time... poor Durge? I mean, they've just learned that they were a leader of the cult that stuck a tadpole in their and most of their friends' heads and is trying to take over the world. While the response to that would vary depending on the Durge, that's a heavy thing to suddenly have to deal with! And then the closest thing to support they get from the party is Minthara and Jaheira saying "Well, you fucked up big time but you can still sort of make up for it" and a couple party members not responding to it at all. The only person in this situation who seems pleased to have them around right now is Gortash.

...I wonder if that's part of the reason why Gortash chooses to reveal all of this here and now in front of the party rather than trying to find a moment to talk to Durge privately. It wouldn't have been hard for him to say "Well, I want to talk to the leader of your group privately and I won't give you any information until I get to do so," make it into some sort of power play or something and then explain the situation once they were alone. It might even have been smarter, since that way the party wouldn't be suspicious of Durge. But instead he spills the beans in front of everyone, driving a wedge between Durge and the rest of the group. The others love Durge enough to stick by them even after the reveal, but Gortash couldn't have known that would be the case when he told them! It doesn't make sense to deliberately cause problems among the party if he wants them working together as a team to deal with Orin for him, but it does make sense if his ultimate goal is to get rid of the rest of the party so he and Durge can rule together as was the original plan. After all, if the group decided they don't want a (former) Absolutist leader around and chase Durge away, where could Durge go other than straight to Gortash?

[sonknuxadow]

okay im definitely going to be away from home when sxs gens comes out i need to figure out how im going to deal with this

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

how do you think leona would do if he falls in love?

Here are my thoughts in bullet-point/headcanon form for ease of reading! Key word there being my thoughts. (There will of course be different interpretations based on who you ask this question to.)

Standard disclaimer: These points are nothing more than my opinions and I am NOT saying my opinions are any more or less valid or “correct” than yours. Please, I’m not pre-book 1 Riddle/j It’s fine to have other takes; just remember to be mindful in how you communicate differences in opinion.

To start with, here's how I think Leona would deal with the experience of first love:

Firstly, I definitely feel that Leona is the type of person to not easily fall in love. There are many examples in canon of Leona rejecting the love he receives from others, whether it be from his own family (Cheka, Falena), dorm members (Ruggie, Jack, Savanaclaw mobs, etc.), or other peers. Even though he desires others’ approval and praise, he also simultaneously believes the compliments are insincere or that he may not be deserving or worthy of it, that he hasn’t “earned” it. It’s also difficult for him to be emotionally vulnerable with others, and I feel that this would extend to romantic circumstances.

Continuing from the previous point, I think it’d be a slow burn. Like, the feelings develop gradually and manifest in small but increasingly more forward-facing ways like his gaze lingering for a second or two longer than usual, him getting slightly irritable when he smells (I 100% believe that smell is a Big Thing for beastmen) some other guy on the object of his affections, or simply… his mind wandering to them, maybe in a daydream.

A lot of it is Leona musing about the situation and then being in denial. He’s not so oblivious as to ignore what are clearly blossoming feelings, but he's not so hasty as to act on them right away. He'd sit with those feelings, examine them, question them. What is it that he is experiencing and why, how did things come to this, etc. He may even try to convince himself it's a phase or he's "too good" for this or he's "above" this. Really takes a long time to wrestle with his emotions and to sort them out. And then when he has come to his conclusion, he might not be very pleased with it because (as I said before), he has self-esteem and self-worth issues despite outwardly presenting himself as confident and in-charge.

For a while, he keeps his distance and observes. He’s nothing if not a big cat biding his time, keeping an eye on his prey until—BAM! Down comes his paw, ensnaring the mouse. It's like a game of chess or... cat and mouse. You have to watch your opponent and predict their moves, then plan your own moves two or three or more steps ahead of them. He'd want to gauge if they're already taken, if they seem to express an interest in him too, what they like and dislike, information like that. The last thing Leona'd want to do is charge in, guns blazing, only to be rejected and have his pride hurt.

He may also go out of his way to test the object of his affections by purposefully engineering scenarios to see how they react. At first, it's subtle things that could easily be passed off as coincidence or happenstance. For example, maybe Leona would accidentally bump his shoulder against yours or as he's walking by his tail flicks you. That's just the start though. He'd put more pressure on over time. Like he'd be more confrontational, putting himself in your path as some obstacle to overcome, still being sort of an asshole to see how you handle yourself around him.

Leona tells himself he has the upper hand, and he's usually pretty consistent about hiding his feelings to that end. It might peek through here and there, but they easily read as him being tsundere as per usual. I think that would be his way of coping, because deep down he doesn't want to admit that a part of him is scared to feel this way. It's something else he could fail at, someone else he could frighten away or destroy.

With time, I think he'd become more confident. He has a better grasp of the other person, he's been able to sort out his thoughts. But the thing is, his pride is still a major deterrent. Instead of coming out and saying it, it would become another game. If you've ever read or watched Kaguya-sama: Love is War, it'd be similar to that. Leona would push for the other person to be the one to fall for him and confess first. Part of it is he's kind of afraid to be so emotionally vulnerable, part of it is that he's desperate to be wanted and needed by others, and part of it is that he feels he needs to "earn" that love by winning you over. He wants that sweet, sweet validation from you. He wants YOU to choose HIM.

I think he expects a certain amount of push and pull. If the game's too easy for him, the (psychological) hunt loses some of its thrill. I think he'd also be the type to seek a partner that isn't just a blind yes man (despite him giving off the vibes that he wants to be in total control, especially in his own dormitory); they should be able to keep him on his toes one way or another, and they shouldn't idolize him in a really unrealistic way--because then he worries what would happen if they learn about his flaws. Would they see him differently? Reject him? Etc.

It'd take a considerable amount of time and effort, but slowly he'd let the walls around his heart down to let you in--but ONLY if you pass his tests and prove that you can be loyal, trustworthy, and cognizant + accepting of all his flaws. He has high standards, so he's pretty picky about who he allows to be by his side. I don't think he'd be happy having to like... put in a fake "perfect prince" act or airs for someone else. Pretending to be someone you're not in order to have love might be just another source of stress for him.

He would take a more aggressive approach if the object of his affections makes it obvious that they return his feelings. More "accidental" touching (but of course nothing that breaches into something they find discomforting), intentionally dropping phrases that come off as flirtatious, demanding to spend more time together, etc.

If they're not into it, he'd respectfully back off. However, that won't stop him from moping about it in private later.

Then, assuming a scenario in which he and the person he's romantically interested in get together/start formally dating:

I think he'd be a lot more blatant and shameless about "showing off" his affections and/or the relationship in general. Overt flirting at this point, casually laying his head on the shoulder or wrapping an arm or tail around you, etc. Who cares who sees? Let them know you're already taken.

Oh yeah, he's really into physical touch (within whatever limits you deem to be acceptable; he respects your autonomy). Cuddles while napping, hand holding, head pats, listening to your heartbeat, etc. It grants him a sense of security that you're like... physically there with him.

I think words of affirmation are also up there, however I don't think he would appreciate it if it's like... overdone. Too many compliments might start to feel disingenuous or even smothering after a while (what comes to my mind specifically is how he reacts negatively or with denial to his brother, Cheka, Kifaji, and even his own dorm members praising him).

As I mentioned earlier, I think there'd be a lot of banter and teasing; Leona strikes me as someone who likes to toy with his pre or puts up a fight; he still has his pride and won't take sass lying down, he'd definitely retaliate but in a playful way.

Slightly whiny and needy. Key word: SLIGHTLY. He's not going to go full yandere on you. I believe that Leona would be somewhat insecure about the relationship and wants you to validate him with your presence. Like, if you're lying down somewhere and try to get up to leave... he might pout and be all dramatic about it, maybe throw in a sarcastic line about how he's "a delicate prince" and how he'll "wither like a flower" without you.

Slightly possessive. Again, the key word: SLIGHTLY. He's not going to restrict your movements or demand complete control of your life. However, he might sulk if he like... sees some other guy hovering or getting handsy, obviously making you uncomfortable. (If it's a particularly bad day for him, Leona might get intrusive thoughts about being the "second pick" and his partner leaving him for some "better" guy.) We've already seen he can get pretty territorial when it comes to Savanaclaw and the Botanical Garden, so I think at some point he'd also step in to intimidate people he feels are becoming a problem for his S/O. It's not the case for every situation though; his partner should be able to handle themselves or let him know when he's overstepping.

I think he'd be a little more tolerant of things his partner pulls. They're the one exception for certain things, like touching his ears or being more willing to listen to their requests to go to class or to try this new vegetable.

He'd try to distance his S/O from his family, especially in the beginning. Leona would tell them he doesn't think they're ready to meet the royal family yet (especially knowing the rocky relationship he has with his family), but really a lot of this stems from his pride. Falena, for example, honestly might make him look uncool by infantilizing his "baby bro".

Leona doesn't really go out of his way to plan grand gestures (he's not Kalim). If he does anything "big", it's probably like sending Ruggie to your doorstep with fancy flowers and a notecard or something. What he values isn't the "frivolous" stuff, but spending quality time together (even if it's doing nothing in particular). Might still spoil you on, say, special occasions, but he generally dislikes making a big deal of these things.

I think he'd be into you wearing his clothes. It's an easy visual indication that you're intimate enough to do this, but also it cloaks you in his smell so every other beastman in the immediate vicinity also knows you're "marked". Leona tosses his unworn blazer over you, casually saying, "Keep it."

Speaking of!! I think he’d also really like the idea of marking (bites, scratch marks, etc.) or scenting his partner. Just animalistic stuff like that, y’know. I’m sure he could hold himself back if they’re not comfortable with these aspects.

I do believe he has the capacity to be very sappy, but I don't think he'd want to be at this level all of the time. It would probably be limited to private settings and done sparingly, sort of like a treat?? Cuz if he does it too often, then it might lose its "special" feeling, and I also feel like he wouldn't be open to being all squimshy 24/7. Usually his sappiness is sarcastic.

Going to keep it 100 here, he's going to be more vulnerable around you (especially in private), and that means potential traumadumping. That's not to say that he'd do it super frequently to go into full-blown details, but his S/O would be one of the few people he feels comfortable enough with to open about his deepest insecurities and fears. He sometimes needs someone to hear him out, a shoulder to cry on, etc. Of course, he's not going to treat his partner like an unpaid therapist. Leona just... needs some extra support every now and again, reminders that he's doing fine, you know??

IMPORTANT ADDITIONAL NOTES:

Leona being in love would NOT smooth out all the rough edges to his personality. He's not going to white knight/act like you constantly need his protection, he's not going to bend over backwards and do anything and everything his partner asks of him. He still has a will and he can and will disagree or argue if he's opposed to something. He'll still let you handle yourself as needed.

Leona being in love would also NOT magically cure him of his personal issues and struggles. This is also true of the other characters who have deeply rooted trauma, but I feel this point should be included as a reminder anyway. It's of course not his entire personality, but his past experiences will impact how he interprets and reacts to things in present day (hence him being needy/wanting validation, etc.).

Like all relationships (whether romantic or platonic), it would not be flawless. There will be highs and lows, fights and disagreements, etc. This is normal in any relationship; what matters is that you're able to be mature enough to patch things up afterwards and learn from those rough patches.

[mattsstarlet]

fully introducing…dealer!matt and goodgirl!reader

in which…your friend brings you along to a trap house party, where you meet the dealer himself.

warnings: mentions of drugs, alcohol, and suggestive content. no smut.

note: my first ever prompt is here! i’m not the best writer so i really do hope u enjoy.

your heart thumped the same rhythm as the loud bass blasting off the walls. as you walked into the trap house, the more you saw, the tighter your hand gripped your friend.

it was much wilder than you had ever imagined, or maybe it was because parties weren’t your thing. you’d rather be cooped up in your cozy bed with your nose stuck in some romance book. 

the lights are down low, and a small disco ball flashes colors, matching the pace of whatever rap song is playing. you scrunch your nose as you smell a whiff of weed and alcohol lingering in the air. 

 a bunch of rowdy boys huddle up over a table, playing some sort of game involving alcohol, though it looks like they’ve done a lot of drinking and less playing. as you walk in further, each corner is busy with horny couples sticking their tongues down each other's throats.

your friend looks back at you, tightening her hold as you two make your way past a busy crowd. she’s only been here a few times, but she’s already familiar with the layout, having some sort of relationship with a guy who lives here. 

squeezing past the sweaty bodies, your friend pulls you towards the direction of a couch. one of the guys sitting there raises his head, a small grin appearing on his face.

“what’s up, baby?” he lifts himself off the couch and snakes his arm around her waist. “y’made it.” 

“hi,” her voice soft and gentle. she motions to you with a wave, signaling you to get closer. “chris, this is my friend and roommate.”

he nods, “s’nice to meet you. heard a lot about you actually,” he smirks. 

chris goes on, joking about how much of a yapper your friend is. you on your end, block out their conversation, distracted by the items on the coffee table. 

teeny tiny bags of colored pills lay on the flat surface, as well as lines of white powder and expired credit cards. in the middle, cold bottles of high-quality alcohol sit next to an ashtray with stones of a certain green plant and cut-up brown paper. 

a tattooed arm brings you back to focus when it reaches over, picking up a pre-rolled joint and a lighter. your eyes shift towards the owner, chewing on your bottom lip as you take in the mysterious man.

the first thing you noticed was his stubble, and how well it defined his sharp jaw. the messy hair look makes it seem like it was made for him. it just fell perfectly into place around his sculptured face. 

“y’starin’ mad hard, sweetheart.” his low, husky voice snapped you out of your daze. “y’tryna buy or… jus’ like whatcha see?” a slight smirk appeared as he finally pulled his gaze from the joint to your wide eyes. he glances at your pouty lips, licking his own before meeting your gaze once again. 

you shake your head; the thought of trying pills or weed alone makes your skin crawl. it’s no secret that you’ve at least tried alcohol, but then again, it was just a tiny sip.

“oh, no thank you... I—I don’t do that,” you say nervously.

he chuckles lowly, “of course you don’t…” he mutters. he looks around, noticing chris had taken off with your friend to most likely fool around in his bedroom.

matt takes in your nervous state; he shouldn’t care if you'll be fine on your own or not. the drugs in his system have already been fucking with his head, but the thought of a pretty innocent girl being all on her own didn’t sit right with him—or maybe he was already making you his… and matt hates when people take what’s his.

“sit. lemme keep you some company, yeah? you...your uh friend dipped. can’t have a quiet little angel all by herself in a place like this.”

you clear your throat as you slowly make your way next to him. being this close to him makes your head foggy; he’s intimidating, and the scent of his spicy cologne mixed with a hint of weed doesn’t help either. he’s got this…thing that creates an unfamiliar warm fuzzy feeling in your core. 

you play with the hem of your skirt as you sit inches away from him, rubbing your slick thighs together. the action doesn’t go unnoticed by matt, his imagination running wild, wanting to throw you over his shoulder and into his bed. his cock hard as a rock just imagining your pouty face as he eats your sweet cunt out. 

matt runs a hand through his brown hair, trying to shake off the dirty things he wants to do to you. he places his rough, clasped hand on your knee. it’s light and gentle, yet it doesn't help the growing fire in your tummy.

“easy, sweetheart… i'm gonna be honest, angel,” he rubs your thigh in an up-and-down motion, going as high as where the end of your skirt touches his fingertips.

 “that thing you’re doin’… ‘s’makin’ me think some things… naughty things.” 

you stop the action immediately, your skin filling up with goosebumps as his hand moves to your inner thigh, not that close where you need him but close enough that matt could feel the heat. glancing at him with those big eyes, you mutter a little ‘sorry.’ 

matt squeezes your thigh, his mind too caught up in the way you’re nervously biting on your bottom lip, “relax, babydoll. jus’ sit back and be a good girl, yeah? i got you, angel.” 

he smirks slyly when you nod again. swallowing thickly, you relax your shoulders and sit back. matt’s hand moves higher, up your soft skin when your skirt rises. “there we go, gooood girl,” he praises, his smirk growing wider. he leans in, his hot breath fanning your ear, “y'know...i think we’re gonna get along jus’ well, angel.”

© 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗌𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗅𝖾𝗍

interact under this post to be notified when i upload posts like this!

a/n: been in my drafts for so long, i can’t keep hiding there. also feel free to send me some inbox’s about these two!

TAGS: @mbbsgf

[eowynstwin]

Ghoap x reader. Autistic reader. Christmas angst. Allusions to Ghost’s backstory. Salacious use of ribbon. Soap being inappropriate. NSFW.

Soap fidgets on the train the whole way over to the light show. You don’t notice, of course, your earplugs are in, but Ghost, hypervigilant for the season, cocks an eyebrow.

“Itches like mad,” Soap grouses. He tugs at the collar of his sweater, a ghastly thing in fuzzy green, red, and gold, with LED bulbs embroidered down the front.

Ghost scowls at him. Soap purses his lips, not chastened. You sit between them, oblivious, fingering the zipper of your purse.

There’s enough cheer on the train to make up for their collective lack. More than one person wears a dumb Santa hat, and at least every other has on something colorful and festive. It seems like everyone feels some sort of Christmas spirit but Ghost, and it makes his hackles tense up.

Your hand slips into his then, smooth like silk settling over his palm. He looks at you; your gaze is fixed steadily ahead, unfocused. He’s not sure whether you reached for him to find comfort or offer it, but he closes his fingers around yours anyway.

He looks over—Soap has your other hand. Reaching to find, then. He squeezes.

The three of you wait until the very last moment to disembark when you arrive, letting the crowd out first. Ghost’s choice. The absolute last thing he wants is to lose either you or Soap in the stream of people flowing from the train—Soap will get distracted, and you hate it when strangers crowd you. This is going to be a trial as it is.

Ghost has to admit—once they reach the grounds, the displays are something to see. Together, you walk through a tunnel of lights leading you to the beginning of the walk, rings of warm white gently shining overhead, and Ghost, despite himself, can’t help but admire how it makes both of his partners look like they’re glowing.

Then Soap tugs at his sweater again, and Ghost bites down a growl.

“Oh, hot chocolate,” you say at the end of the tunnel, looking over at a cart laden with a few big steel samovars. “I’m going to get some, either of you want any?”

“Cider,” Ghost says, softening the curtness of his tone with the tenner he hands you. “If they’ve got any.”

“Coffee for me, hen, if you don’t mind,” Soap adds with a smile. You nod, and scurry toward the drinks.

Soap eyes him. Ghost knows what he sees—his back has been ramrod straight since the bloody month started. He holds his shoulders the same way he might if he had his rifle across his chest. His jaw has been hard as a cinder block any time the market clerk tossed “happy holidays” at him when he did his best to get away as fast as he could.

“Don’t,” Ghost says.

Soap says nothing.

This is not their first Christmas together, but it is their first with you. The sergeant already knows how Ghost feels about the holiday; you do not, and Ghost wants to keep it that way for a little while longer.

Divining your feelings about anything takes a little longer than it might with anyone else, but he’s pretty sure you’re excited, in your way. Soap, for whom pine trees and glitter and the smell of snow in the air seem to activate a sleeper agent in his brain that orgasms at the mere sight of tinsel, already has a Wellington resting in their shared fridge, and artfully wrapped presents crammed under their pre-lit tree. The two of you together have flooded the flat with lights, candy-cane frippery, crocheted snowflake doilies, and ski-lodge scented candles.

Ghost, for his part, has scrolled various travel websites to figure out if assassinating Santa Claus is something actually feasible. Maybe if he defeats the final boss of Christmas he can actually sleep through the night at least once this month.

It isn’t that he hates it, exactly. It’s just that Christmas, to him, began as a hazy game of roulette, wondering if the wild animal of his father would appear to ruin the exchange of charity-shop gifts wrapped in reused paper, and then solidified as an image reflected in pools of spreading blood.

The last happy Christmas, he had to burn down. That’s no reason that he has to ruin it for everyone else, though.

You return with three paper cups held awkwardly in your two hands, and Ghost and Soap relieve you of your burden. Your cup has a peppermint stick jutting up out of it, and you use it to stir your steaming drink periodically as the three of you proceed.

The path leads through an army of glowing snowmen in mismatched sizes, life-size gingerbread houses, past multicolor balls tossed across the top of a frozen pond. Trees banded with so many strings they look like branches of lightning reaching up from the earth. Electric snowflakes dangling above your heads from netting stretched between lampposts.

Ghost keeps clenching and unclenching his fist. His cider goes rapidly cold in his other hand, untouched. He probably can’t get his money back for it, but he’s agitated enough to start a fight and try.

Meanwhile—it’s obvious, you’re enjoying yourself immensely. You don’t say much as you flit between installations, running a hand over the glowing bulbs, tilting your head this way and that like a curious little bird. You take your phone out more than once to open your camera, and Ghost knows you’re saving pictures to put together a slideshow later on.

More than once, you look back at him and Soap, and grin wide at some novelty or another. Ghost manages to nod his head at you—go on, little birdie, keep having fun.

“Jesus,” Soap mutters, trying to scratch at a spot on his back for the third time.

“Fuck’s sake, Soap, just take the fucking thing off,” Ghost snaps.

“Canna,” Soap says.

“Why the fuck not?”

Soap’s mouth slants sideways. He looks around for spectators, and, finding none within eyeshot, lifts the bottom of the sweater.

Bright, shiny, very red ribbon runs in two lines along the naked cut of his obliques—down past the waistband of his trousers.

Ghost tosses the cider out of his cup and grips Soap by the back of the neck, throws, “OY! Duckie! Bathroom!” at you, and drags his boyfriend to the nearby public loo.

It’s empty, thank god, so Ghost wastes no time yanking the closure of Soap’s trousers open. The ribbon continues downward, downward, the V narrowing and narrowing until—

It converges in a (somewhat lopsided) bow tied right around the base of Soap’s dick.

“Soap, what the fuck,” Ghost says.

The sergeant backs up, and pulls the sweater fully off. It reveals a latticework of satiny red crisscrossing his chiseled torso: lines of ribbon accenting the curves of his pectorals, his toned abdomen, highlighting the small indent of his trim waist.

Soap’s cheeks flush pink.

“Goes further down,” he mutters, not meeting Ghost’s eye.

“What the fuck,” Ghost repeats.

“Was gonna do a big reveal when we got home,” Soap says. “Start stripping when we got the door closed. That rubbish.”

Ghost, incredulously, snorts, and Soap smiles at him.

“First time you’ve laughed this month,” he says quietly. “S’ why I did it.”

Ghost steps up to him and takes Soap’s chin between thumb and forefinger. “You fucking idiot,” he says, and kisses him.

The bathroom door opens, letting in a gust of wind, and Ghost and Soap jump back from each other momentarily, before relaxing when your voice reaches them.

“There better not be a handjob happening in here without me—oh,” you say, stopping short.

Shoving the waist of his pants down further, Soap turns around to show off to you the full extent of what he’s done. It gives Ghost a good look at the pretty intersections happening overtop of the muscles of Soap’s back, and the dip of the ribbon down between the two perfect globes of Soap’s arse.

You blink several times. “There isn’t a lock on this door, Soap. If I get down to suck you off, someone is going to come in.”

Impossibly, Ghost snorts again, and then laughs for real, a full-belly guffaw that comes out a little more harsh than it should. But you grin at him, and the line of Soap’s shoulders, which Ghost suddenly realizes has been as tense as his this whole time, relaxes.

He pecks the bare swell of Soap’s bicep, and then the crown of your head as he passes you by.

“I’ll hold it closed, duckie,” he says. “Do whatever you want.”

He only leaves the door once when he hears you shriek suddenly with laughter—to find that Soap has decorated his cock with a peppermint-loop of red lipstick, all the way to the tip.

“Fucking idiot,” Ghost repeats, and cancels his trip to the North Pole then and there.

[doctormonocat]

Replaced

Self Aware! Rafayel x Unaware! Player

Can you guess which other game character this is inspired by? I will be doing a series for each of the LADS boys being self aware. A little angsty, once again. It will hopefully become clear, but this is a story about Rafayel, your favorite LI, becoming self aware, and eventually being replaced by Caleb. I just picked Caleb bc he just released, but Sylus or any LI released after start would work. Hope you enjoy! I'll prolly do a part 2. A bit long, sorry!

Self Aware! Rafayel who becomes aware slowly but surely. Rather than an instant moment of understanding, he begins to recognize new things in his world, things he didn’t understand before. Things seem… out of order. Time is disjointed, his senses thrown into a black void just as often as he is alive. 

Self Aware! Rafayel realizes he is a game character long before he ever becomes aware of you. His existence seems to dull with each passing day before he meets you. His life, his suffering, his love… none of its real. He realizes that he is pre programmed into a virtual reality. But he wonders, why? And why does he feel a sort of… presence? 

Self Aware! Rafayel who feels the presence everywhere. In his battles with his… lover? (is she still? Does he even want her to be? Rafayel doesn’t know. Even she seems fake now) There is an unknowing force watching him. Despite the oddity of it, Rafayel isn’t alarmed by it. If anything, it’s comforting. Warm. It feels like his first hug after a life of being touch starved. 

Self Aware! Rafayel becomes addicted to the presence. Comforted by the ever watching force. He looks forward to his limited interactions with it in that cafe everyday. His dulled world begins to spill with color. 

Self Aware! Rafayel who one day sees… you. You’re the presence that’s been there for what seems like years, the only thing allowing sunshine to pour into Rafayel’s darkened world. He preens under your attention, feeling like a deep sea fish seeing the light for the first time. 

Self Aware! Rafayel who finally realizes his world is a dating game. It's a bit of a shock, but a surprising comfort. You had become his everything before he was even aware who you were, and being able to actually see you everyday has only deepened his feelings. So, learning that you joined this game to date the characters, and that he is your main focus is a relief. He feels requited. You care about him just as much as he does you (maybe not quite as much, he realizes. Currently, you are his only tether to realness, and are still unaware of his awareness or his feelings. But, it won’t be like that for much longer). 

Self Aware! Rafayel who is aware of the other male love interests, but doesn’t pay them much of a mind besides the occasional twinge of jealousy. After all, you only complete their events out of a sense of obligation. But he is your focus. You pull for his cards, spend your in game currency on his outfits, and have him accompany you for card games and plushie hunting. It’s clear to him, he is your favorite. And he hopes that when he makes you aware of his presence too, that your favoritism will turn into something more. So, in response to those other boys, all he does is give you a pout the next time you visit him in your cafe. But, seeing your smile in his presence makes the painter’s grumpy mood vanish quickly. He loves your smile, direct just at him; teasing, joking, and flirting all the time just to see it whenever he wants. Yeah. He needs to see that smile more often.

Self Aware! Rafayel who wants everything to be perfect for when he confesses. He’s been picking up some coding skills on the side, trying to keep it hidden from you as he carves out a small place in his world just for you to. The perfect place by the beach, with the perfect light. The perfect gift (a painting of you), the perfect words to say to make you understand the depth of his sentience and of his love. His perfect moment. He’s worried he might spoil it accidentally though, with the extra attention he’s been lavishing on you. You’re just so cute, that every time you cheer after the two of you win a battle together he can’t help but laugh along. He’s a little tired of waiting, but he still wants everything to be perfect. He just hopes you can chalk up your excellent luck pulling cards and his extra smiles to a new game mechanic. 

Self Aware! Rafayel who is vaguely aware of the announcement of a new male love interest. Colin? Or maybe Cade? Who cares? Rafayel’s been your favorite since launch. Truly, he doesn’t pay too much attention. He’s too focused on making his confession to you just perfect. 

Self Aware! Rafayel who starts paying attention when he hears it come from your mouth. 

“Caleb is almost here!” You say, cheerily. 

Self Aware! Rafayel who feels his heart clench a little. Now he begins to remember the details clearly. Caleb. Thats his name. The jealousy he feels is a bit more papabile than it has been before with the other boys, feeling like a heavy stone pulling his heart down into a dark ocean. He remembers you playing that chapter with that… man… in it a couple times, but he dismissed it as you trying to better understand the story. He knows it's not because you want to see that guy. Is it? 

| | | | |

Self Aware! Rafayel who doesn't realize how black everything has been until he’s let out into the light again. How long has it been? He feels his body physically react when he checks your phone’s internal clock and realizes a month has passed. His world had become dull again without you at least visiting him; fake, and flat and just black. It scares him for two reasons. The first, that without you he might stop being aware, stop existing as he is now. He might start being like the other nothings that populate his world without you, pre programmed to run in circles. It terrifies him. And the second, that something might have happened to you in the time you were away from him. He is even more scared that something in your large and expansive reality might be able to harm you. With his dulled senses, he hasn’t felt your presence visiting him at all in the past month (that went by all too fast to him. Add that to his growing list of things that will keep him up at night.)

Self Aware! Rafayel who is scared now for an entirely different reason. He manages to use his coding skills in the brief time period where you are visiting to tether himself to the game outright. At least it will be harder now to pull him away from you. Even if you stop visiting, he’ll be aware. But with that, comes an even worse realization. You’d been here, actually. In the game, playing as usual. Just not with him. 

Self Aware! Rafayel who wants to cry and shout all at once. Who the hell is this Caleb, and how dare he take you from him (he tries to push down the feeling that you have betrayed him as well. He doesn’t want to fall into that rabbit hole of resenting the only thing that makes him feel alive). So, instead he blames this… usurper, who has stolen your love, your light, your attention away from him. 

Self Aware! Rafayel who has a plan to get your attention back. Screw the perfect moment. He just needs to confess the next time he sees you. You’ll throw away apple boy the second you realize you have a sentient fishie who loves you more than anything. 

Self Aware! Rafayel begins to slowly realize a couple of harrowing things. The first, that you haven’t visited him in a long time. The last time you did, his first gasp of air in over a month, seemed to be irregular, if not a fluke entirely. You were too focused on Caleb (the name still sickens him to think about) to spend anytime with him anymore. Who knows if you would even give him the chance to confess. The second, even more harrowing thought. Was it your attention, your love, that brought him sentience? If so, could that same awareness be brought to another? Would Rafayel’s competition soon extend to another man who knew of your existence just as he did? The third, that it might not even matter for him or the “colonel” either. You had discarded and neglected Rafayel so easily when a new shiny toy came into your view. Did you even see him as real? Would you ever? Were you even capable of that? 

Self Aware! Rafayel chose to push that thought down deep. He would cross that bridge when he got to it. No, he should deal with the problem at hand. Caleb. Just the very thought of him made fire burn in Rafayel’s veins and a sting like salt water in his throat. At the very least, he should deal with this so-called replacement. 

Self Aware! Rafayel who knows deep in his soul, in the very essence of his being that you love him. You’ve just been… distracted. Tempted. Lured. But Rafayel knows about luring also. He is a siren, a vision of seduction and temptation. Colonel apple can’t compare. Rafayel will use very weapon in his arsenal. His newly acquired coding skills will force you to see him, force you to let him win your love back. He’ll shower you with gifts, with digital seashells, in game currency, and his sweet words. He’ll hold off on confessing, just until his competition is not even a memory in your mind. 

Self Aware! Rafayel decides that even if that fails, he has other ways of convincing you to his side. He wonders what would happen if he were to alter the game code, to make Caleb repulsive to you, or even better, gone (the thought of messing with the game code, with the very essence of the world does still make him a bit queasy. Perhaps that will be his last resort). Instead, he wonders what would happen if he decided to find Caleb in his world. Maybe a recreation of a certain explosion might be in order, certain to actually find it’s target this time. 

Self Aware! Rafayel who is becoming desperate. He’s willing to do anything. Even if it means removing all other obstacles by any means necessary. You will love him again. 

After all, why wouldn’t you? With no one else but him and you, everything will be just as it should be. 

[citruslullabies]

OMG. I SAW UR CURLY HEADCANONS AND I TOUGHT THEY WERE AMAZING!! COULD U MAYBE DO THE SAME THING BUT WITH DAISUKE?? :O

Coming right up hon!

Daisuke Mouthwashing headcannons

Romantic

Pre-crash Daisuke:

He's a silly guy

Constantly cracking jokes, trying to make you laugh

People wouldn't know if you two were dating or just best friends if it weren't for the fact he's a puppy dog with you

Following you around whenever he can, looking at you for praise whenever he can

It's kind of like the meme "no, I'm not calling you good boy. That mission was shit."

..other than he is a good boy so call him such

And boy does he love PDA

Well, not really

He just loves affection, public or private

I like to think he's just a bit more silly in public

Kisses your cheek and makes an over exaggerated pop whenever he pulls away

Daisuke was hanging out with Swansea, goofing off as usual. But he saw you in the corner of his eye and without a second thought, ran to you and practically pounced. Before you could get anything but a giggle in, he pressed his lips to your cheek and kissed you with a loud pop!

He's not really a petname sort of person either

It's mostly funny nicknames for him

He will call you his grumpasaur when you're grumpy first thing in the morning. I don't make the rules.

Post-crash Daisuke:

For awhile, he still acts the same. But his personality is a little watered down, y'know?

He's stressed and scared after what happened

But he tries not to let that get him down!

Although he is more clingy, more scared of letting go of you. One accident already happened and almost wiped their captain out, what if you were next?

He didn't want to think about that

It made him nauseated to think about

And eventually well.. he crawled through that vent to get to Anya

And he got severely injured. You couldn't bear to see him like that

You most likely died soon before, trying to keep Swansea from killing Daisuke

Begging and pleading that there had to be some other way

But it didn't work out in anyone's favor

Platonic

Pre-crash Daisuke:

You guys are super duper close!!

Lots of jokes and pranks on the other crew members

Constantly goofing off whenever you can

Not too affectionate.. the occasional hug here and there. But besides that it's all fun and games

He has definitely drawn on your face before while you slept

I'm sorry. I don't make the rules. He would definitely make an attempt at drawing a flower on your cheek and it look like a penis

He'd still giggle about it though.. maybe it wasn't an accident

He has definitely (jokingly and lovingly) made fun of Swansea

Just standing up and trying to mimic his mannerisms while you're laughing

..yeah, too bad Swansea was in at that very moment

"look at me, I'm Swansea! I'm a big smelly engineer!" Daisuke said in a forcefully deeper voice, making you laugh as he held his arms out in front of him as if to mimic toting a stomach around. Swansea in question could only look unamused as he cleared his throat, making you both stop in your tracks. Oh if looks could kill.

But yeah you guys have a purely goofy relationship

Post-crash Daisuke:

It's the exact same as the romantic, but the difference is, he tries to convince you to go into the vent with him. He wants to get Anya and doesn't want to be alone

But you of course refused, stating it wasn't safe but did he listen?

No

In fact he continued on to the vent and got himself injured

You gave him the 'i told you so' look but.. you felt really bad when looking at your friend. He was in bad shape.

And so you died a similar way

The only big difference is, you died after discovering him

Thanks for requesting!

[a-substantial-trash-pile]

mouthwashing responsibility au rambles below cut 🫡

(spoiler warning for the actual game obviously)

- even though jimmy got deservedly knocked out by anya and thrown into the cryopod early on, the crash still does happen. it's a freak accident this time, like maybe a piece of space debris just happened to hurtle right into them without time to dodge. it's like the tulpar is destined to crash. but this time it's a story about a group of people finding hope and strength in each other and finding what they themselves can be capable of in a time of crisis. btw i just mean curly, anya, swansea, and daisuke. i am NOT repenting jimmy. he ain't "fixing" shit.

- i'm sorry for frying curly again even though this is supposed to be an au with a happier ending 😭 the way his loss of autonomy reflects anya's own loss of it, making him feel firsthand the suffering she went through in a way, felt too important to just remove. curly's injuries aren't as terrible as in the original timeline since swansea rescued him earlier. and by "not as terrible" i mean he only loses a leg and not all of his limbs. he will get some function in his hands eventually and anya teaches him sign language to help him communicate (she teaches the others too).

- speaking of anya, she really shows her stuff as a nurse (even in the original timeline she does, managing to keep curly alive like that). she treats curly and swansea and is much more of a pillar of strength for the crew than she herself realizes. pre-crash and post-jimmy-getting-fired, she was able to relax and open up more with everyone, building a stronger bond. when the crash happens, anya is of course terrified and hella stressed, but now she knows she has people who have her back, and it helps. she can be more confident in herself without a certain someone being there to belittle and hurt her. this time when she has to deal with something difficult, something traumatizing, she has people to support her. in this au, she is not pregnant because if she was, i don't see how keeping the baby would be a good thing for her. and i don't want her to have to deal with that situation without the proper medical supplies on top of everything else. she's been through enough.

- btw there is no shipping in this au. i personally really don't see how it could happen between anyone on the crew. if there was some sort of spark between anya and curly, it's definitely gone now and won't happen again. the most they'll be are friends (although the friendship/trust will have to be built from the ground up again after everything that's happened with jimmy). the only ship here is the tulpar.

- i know daisuke is seen as a "dumb kid" but i really don't think that's the case. we are seeing him thru jimmy's perspective mostly after all and jimmy is the definition of an unreliable narrator. i headcanon daisuke as having adhd like me who tends to lose focus on tasks easily because your brain is just going 102929 miles a minute and wandering to all sorts of places like me. he feels like someone who doesn't exactly know where they want to go in life like me. also he's definitely a hawaii kid born and raised and talks pidgin sometimes like me except i lost the pidgin :(. i'm totally not projecting my asian ass on the asian boy or anything. BUT ANYWAY i wanted to give daisuke more stuff to do and a chance to prove to himself that he can do these things, he can step up. so that's partially why i made swansea burn his hands rescuing curly. daisuke can now be filled with Determination and be swansea's hands in repairing things as he heals. it's going to be hard and it's going to be frustrating for both parties and sometimes they'll get upset at each other. but it will inevitably be a great bonding experience for the two. i cannot resist the call for more father-son moments.

- swansea my beloved. i am so sorry for burning your beautiful hands please forgive 😔🙏 i have to make my faves suffer a little. swansea's hands will heal up eventually and he'll be able to use them again, but there will be scars. i think him having to guide daisuke with doing repairs n stuff on the ship as his hands recover gives him a mission. something to distract him from completely falling into despair and alcoholism. that man is hanging on by a thread but by god he's going to help get these kids through this. they've all grown closer since jimmy was sacked and swansea feels a sort of responsibility towards protecting anya, daisuke and curly as the oldest one there. it's the dad instincts y'know? on the real hard days, sometimes swansea thinks about cracking open a bottle of mouthwash, but he holds back because he feels he needs to stay strong for the crew. however he does have to learn that he can't shoulder everything and that he can rely on others. him having no choice but to have daisuke take over his tasks is a good way for him to learn that, i think. swansea is definitely a pillar of strength in this and the rest of the crew have a lot of affection for him (and vice versa even if swansea won't admit it). can you tell i really like swansea. he is such a foil to jimmy—a guy who has fucked up a lot in his life but actually acknowledges his mistakes and is trying his hardest to be a better person. aghh swansea i love you 💛💛

- after the crash happens, the cryopod room becomes inaccessible, so nobody is able to check on the state of jimmy in there. so they don't see that the crypod he's in eventually fails from damage and he escapes. this happens a couple weeks into the crash. jimmy is still pissed about everything and still can't see how he's done anything wrong (this is because he is a delusional asshole). in fact, he feels like he's the one who's been wronged and betrayed by everyone on the crew and he wants revenge. there will be a final confrontation between jimmy and the crew. spoilers: jimmy loses. i'm just undecided on who finishes it. it would be fitting if anya shot him, but i'm not sure that's something she'd necessarily want to do. she chose to be in the medical field after all. don't get me wrong, i think she would pull the trigger if it meant protecting the others. but i'd hate to have her kill, because even if jimmy deserves it, anya is a healer and would still probably feel guilty about it. i don't want to put even more shit on her plate. so i think swansea is the one to put jimmy down in the end. with the axe of course. i think he'd feel less guilty about doing it because it's something he's wanted to do since anya first told him about jimmy. oooh what if jimmy gets his hands on the gun, but daisuke tackles him, making him drop it, and anya gets it and shoots jimmy in the shoulder or leg or something to get him off of daisuke, and then swansea comes in with the axe to finish him off. that could be fun. that way anya won't have to actually kill but she'll still get to shoot jimmy. bless.

- the crew gets rescued eventually, but it's going to be a few months because pony express is a nightmare company. i'm honestly still not sure if pony express is even the one who will rescue them or even bother to look. i'm tempted to just have another ship happen across them by some miracle and help. real tempted to make that ship The Unreliable and turn this into a Mouthwashing x The Outer Worlds crossover quite honestly since both settings share similarities (megacorporations, cryosleep, etc). but idk. it's not like i can just write a fanfic or anything since writing is harder for me and who knows how long it will be before i even draw the idea. it's just yet another self-indulgent daydream for now.

[thatbadadvice]

Dear Advisor,

I tend to be a very reserved and shy person so making friends is super hard. Recently I’ve been wanting to socialize more , but I genuinely don’t know how. Is there any advice that you have that can make me look more approachable and not be scared to talk to people. I’m so stressed about being alone and not having any friends, but I just find it so hard to go up to people and make a conversation. I tried once but it became super awkward. I just really need good advice from someone on how to approach a person and continue a conversation.

Dear Awkward Anonymous,

It would be so easy to get into a whole deep let's-skeetshoot-therapy-on-the-internet session and try to help a total stranger unpack all of the GA-FUCKING-ZILLION ways in which social awkwardness shows up in a person's life. It seems easy, and it even seems meaningful and worthwhile, but to do so I would have to presume a bunch about your life, and make a bunch of assumptions about the ways in which my own experiences maybe/probably track with yours, and it would be a whole big wank-fest, and frankly ... it would be awkward. I'd be like you, standing there at the party, hoping that what I'm saying resonates or lands or even vaguely tracks with anything a stranger has ever known or experienced, presuming (probably rightly!) that it doesn't, and then flailing and blaming myself when I didn't emerge from the interaction with all the world's gold stars.

So here's what: stop talking to other people as a primary social occupation. Going up to people and just talking is fucking terrifying. The Bad Advisor says this as a Certified Extrovert™ who rarely shuts the fuck up.

Instead, find a thing to do with other people that involves some sort of task or goal or activity. Talk about the thing you're doing together, when you're doing it. If it feels okay, maybe introduce one or two of your own relatable-to-the-activity experiences in the process. See who picks up on it. Ask the people who pick up on it genuinely interested questions in response. This is what we awkward people call: engineering a conversation. It is the way, I am told, humans make connections with other humans. I have seen it work in my own life.

Depending on where you live and your ability level and skill set, I bet you have some options! You could seek out an open board game night, pub quiz session, knitting/quilting circle, or mutual aid meetup that's looking for volunteers. Especially look for social activities with strangers that involve a dedicated, pre-prescribed activity (such as a hiking or mall-walking group, stuffing envelopes for a political candidate or cause you care about, planting trees at your local park, or tasting tea/wine/beer/etc.). (Somebody is going to say join a ballroom dancing club or suchlike; I am personally terrified of this, but if you have a higher tolerance for strangers touching you and fewer than two left feet: it's literally an option. Line-dancing, on the other hand ... absofuckinglutely.)

Even if what's available in your area isn't your precise and specific interest, it might be worthwhile to check out something you are decidedly meh about -- you might not be the only meh person there. You can bond over shit that's boring or shitty with other people who find it boring or shitty! Some of my best friends, arguably my very best friends, came out of experiences we mutually loathed or found at least moderately and mutually miserable.

Consider especially finding an activity where you yourself are the manager of operations and/or have a designated task to take care of that is unique to your position! This doesn't have to be complicated or skill-dependent; can you become a voter registrar in your area? Well, bam! You've got paperwork people have to fill out and a good reason to jibber-jabber with folks who have to ask you the questions. Other ideas: join your local neighborhood association board, become a notary public, or see if your local pet rescue is looking for intake line volunteers. Do you have a trustworthy, especially outgoing friend who might agree to play "social glue" for you a couple of times at their activity-centric events? Make it explicit! Ask them if they'll play friendly wing-person for you at their D&D game, fantasy sports league, or some such.

Alternately: Do you have a unique and fun and shareable skillset you can share with others? Are you pretty good at drawing, programming? Simply a font of endless Merlin or NFL or Real Housewives knowledge? You might start a local Discord or other online social group to discuss and share your interests, then move it to the real world in a few weeks once folks get comfortable. You get the idea.

Most of all: Look for stuff that has more-than-just-talking opportunities available outside the designated group jam for you to maintain connections. Perhaps a group chat, a Discord, a Slack, what-have-you, where you can take more time to consider and draft your responses and posts? Connections with humans get made a thousand ways, and talking raw-dog with strangers is but one.

It takes a true social unicorn to be simply good at talking and only talking to other people. There are some of these one-horned wonders out there, to be sure — but let me assure you that the vast majority of folks want to be accepted and seen just as much as you do, and they're staring at the ceiling at night thinking just as much (more, probably) about all the weird, wonky shit they themselves threw at you than they are anything you ever said to them.

[xgryffinwhore]

You should do a enemies to lovers kind of thing. Like Johnny and the reader are enemies but everyone knows they like each other. The reader is like this girly rich girl and she acts disgusted by Johnny when in reality, you know😭 It can be a smut or whatever, I’ just loving the Johnny five you’re feeding us

All attitude, no brains(pt 1?)

Summary: Johnny and the reader really "hate" each other...

Warnings: Drinking, smut

Word Count: 8.2k

The sun’s dipping low over the California coastline, painting the sky orange and pink. Music’s blaring from a boombox someone set up near the volleyball net, and the Cobra Kai crew is camped out on the sand. Johnny Lawrence leans against his dirt bike, arms crossed, a cocky grin on his face as he surveys the scene. He’s got his trademark swagger, a little smirk that makes people either love him or hate him—and he’s used to both.

Across the beach, she’s perched on a striped lounge chair, sipping from a soda can with a straw, legs crossed, looking like she just walked out of some glossy magazine ad. Her laugh cuts through the music, light and sweet, and for a second, Johnny’s eyes linger.

“Man, you’re staring again,” Tommy says, nudging him in the ribs. “You gonna make a move or just keep drooling?”

Johnny shoves him off with a scoff. “Yeah, right. Like I’d waste my time on her.”

Tommy grins. “Sure, bro. Whatever you say.”

Meanwhile, over on her side of the beach, the teasing isn’t much different.

“Johnny Lawrence, really?” one of her friends says with a dramatic eye roll. “That guy’s a total tool. All attitude, no brains.”

She shrugs, tilting her sunglasses down to glance his way for half a second. “He’s harmless. Besides, I’ve got better things to worry about.”

“Uh-huh,” her friend says, smirking. “So that’s why you’re practically blushing every time he looks over here?”

Before she can come up with a snarky comeback, Johnny saunters over, his hands shoved in his pockets, the picture of smug confidence. His friends stay back, watching with grins on their faces like they already know how this is gonna go.

“Hey, Princess,” Johnny says, stopping just close enough to tower over her a little. His voice is dripping with mockery, but there’s a glint in his eye that’s hard to miss. “You having fun slumming it with the rest of us, or did Daddy cut off your country club allowance?”

She looks up at him, unfazed, and arches an eyebrow. “Funny. I didn’t realize the beach came with free entertainment. You’re like a walking punchline.”

His grin widens, and he steps a little closer. “You think you’re real cute, don’t you?”

She stands, dusting off her skirt, and meets his gaze with a smirk of her own. “I don’t think, Johnny. I know. And trust me, I wouldn’t waste my time trying to impress you.”

The tension between them is as thick as the ocean air, but neither of them breaks. Around them, their friends are stifling laughter, exchanging knowing looks like this is the most predictable thing they’ve ever seen.

Johnny leans in slightly, his voice low so only she can hear. “You keep telling yourself that, Princess. But we both know you’d miss me if I wasn’t around.”

She doesn’t respond right away—just gives him a look that says he might be right. Or maybe he’s just imagining it.

“Keep dreaming, Lawrence,” she says, brushing past him, but the faintest smile tugs at her lips.

And Johnny? He’s already grinning, watching her walk away.

Over the next few weeks, Johnny and the girl find themselves in a strange kind of routine. They don’t hang out, and they don’t exactly avoid each other either. They just sort of… orbit around each other, like two planets that can’t quite decide whether to collide or keep their distance.

Every time they cross paths, it's like a battle of wits, a game of trying to outdo each other with the wittiest comebacks or the most sarcastic remarks.

The sun blazes over the school parking lot, it's the first week of senior year and everyone is buzzing. Their friend groups are close in proximity, She pretends he’s not there. He pretends he’s not staring. 

Johnny’s leaning against the hood of his car, sunglasses on, arms crossed. His friends are next to him, throwing around a ball, teasing him about something—but he’s not paying attention. His eyes are locked on her, watching the way she laughs with her friends, the sunlight catching in her hair.

"Oh yea, you really hate her" Bobby teases, noticing Johnny staring. The rest of the cobra's join in on the giggles. 

Johnny snaps out of it, tearing his eyes away from her to glare at his friends. “Shut up, man. You wouldn’t know the first thing about women.”

His friends just grin wider, shoving him playfully. They know.

Dutch leans in closer, loving how easy it is to get under his skin. They all knew he didn't really hate her. "And what dont we know, exactly?" Dutch adds fuel. 

"Look, just… lay off, alright? I don’t wanna hear it." Johnny looks back at her, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. He can’t help it. She’s just so goddamn infuriating and charming at the same time.

She steals a look at him, blushing when their eyes meet. She quickly looks away, she hated how easy it was for her to crumble under his gaze. "Slick, really slick" one of her friends teased, she shot her a glare that could kill.

Johnny’s lips curve into a cocky grin. He knows she’s looking and he loves every second of it. He gives a little salute, winking before turning back to his boys.

Bobby raises an eyebrow. “You two are so full of it. Just admit it already.”

Johnny shoves him away, scoffing. “Admit what?”

"That you love how she can give it back to you, you want her bad" Bobby exclaims, the bell rings and they begin to head inside.

Johnny scoffs. “She’s a snob, a total know-it-all. No way I’d want to be caught dead with her.”

Tommy claps him on the shoulder, grinning. “Keep telling yourself that, Johnny. But we all see right through you.”

The crowd of high schoolers head inside, spreading off into their classes. Unfortunately- or fortunately for her, her first class was calculus, with Johnny. He sat a few rows behind her, always in the back of the room.

Johnny’s sitting in his usual spot in the back, trying to look interested as the teacher drones on about equations that might as well be ancient hieroglyphics. Across the room, she’s taking diligent notes, her pen moving lightning fast as she makes sense of the gibberish on the board.

He can’t help himself. He watches her, mesmerized by how focused and confident she looks. Why does she have to be so good at everything?

"And would the answer be A,B, or C?" the teacher asks, no one raises their hand. She looks around, her hand slowly comes up and the teacher immediately calls on her. "It would be C," the teacher gives a knowing nod, she got it right, she always does. 

Johnny can’t help but grin to himself. Of course she got it right. She’s probably the only one in this room who actually enjoys this nerdy crap. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms, still staring at her.

She moves her hair over her shoulder, locking eyes with him once again and moving her head back to the front of the room faster than the speed of light. 

The teacher asks another question, and just like before, she’s the first one with her hand in the air—and of course, she gets it right. The teacher smiles, clearly impressed. Johnny leans over to his friends beside him. “Showoff,” he mutters, but there’s a hint of admiration in his eyes.

His friends snicker, she pretends to not hear. The bell rings, she packs up her stuff and slings her bag over her shoulder, heading to her next class.

Johnny catches up to her in the hallway, matching her stride. “So, how does it feel to be the teacher's pet? Bet they'll just hand you your diploma now, won't they?”

She rolls her eyes, trying hard to fight off a smirk, instead feigning an annoyed look. "You know, if you stopped doodling skulls- or whatever you do instead of paying attention- it's easier than you'd think" she says. "But I'm pretty sure you've got brain damage from karate, so I don't see that in the cards for you." 

Johnny scoffs. “Oh, real clever, Princess. But you don’t know me. You don’t know the first thing about karate or my brain.”

He glances down at the books in her hands. “Maybe you should stick to your textbooks and I’ll keep knocking people out with my fists. At least one of us is having fun.”

They come up to her next class, her preppy friends already inside, noticing the two of them. "Yeah Johnny, wearing a leather jacket and pushing guys on a matt *totally* makes you look cool" she bites, walking into class, a smirk spreading as she turns away from him.

Johnny clenches his jaw, watching her walk away. He wants to come up with some witty retort, something to wipe that stupid smirk off her face. But the bell’s ringing and he’s got to get to P.E.

He shakes his head, muttering to himself. “Unbelievable.”

Their friends are watching from their lockers, rolling their eyes and laughing. “You two are gonna end up killing each other, or making out. I can’t decide which one is worse.”

Johnny storms past the guys, grabbing his gym bag from his locker and slamming the door. "Would you guys shut up? She's nothing to me, alright? Jesus."

Johnny's in a mood for the rest of the day, trying to shake off his encounter with her. He barely pays attention in his classes, his mind still on their little argument. And every time they run into each other in the hallways, he shoots her a glare that could kill. But the more he tries to ignore her, the more his thoughts keep drifting back to her. It pisses him off.

Finally, the last bell rings and Johnny's practically sprinting out of school. He's desperate to burn off the frustration of this day and to maybe, just maybe, keep his mind off of her.

She unlocks her car, her eyes lingering on him and his bike for a second too long. She shakes it off, getting into her car.

But he notices. Of course he does. His eyes linger on her for a beat too long before finally revving his engine and taking off, tearing out of the lot. God, what is she doing to him?

He rides faster, weaving in and out of traffic. The wind's in his face and the pavement flies beneath his wheels but he can't shake her from his thoughts. And as the sun starts to set, casting a warm glow over the city, he realizes he's headed in the same direction as her.

She pulls into the beach parking lot, she comes here sometimes to think about things. As of recently, it's always been about him ,her feelings are battling it out like a world war in her heart. She turns off her car, sighing as she slumps back into her seat. 

Johnny's bike rumbles into the lot a moment later. He spots her car on the opposite end and curses under his breath, but he doesn't leave. Something pulls him toward her, the same way it always does.

She gets out of her car, not noticing him, as she walks down the hill to the water. She needed a walk to clear her head.

Johnny watches her walk to the water, her hair blowing in the breeze. Against his better judgment, he finds himself following her. He can't help it. He's drawn to her, like a moth to a flame, even though he knows he shouldn't be.

She gets out of her car, not noticing him, as she walks down the hill to the water. She needed a walk to clear her head.

He stays a fair distance behind her, hidden behind a cluster of beach grass. He has no idea what he's doing, what he's even hoping for. He just wants to be near her, to hear her voice again, even if it's just to insult him.

She senses someone is near, she peaks behind her and sees him, her heart nearly stops. 

Johnny freezes when he sees her look back at him. He can't tell if she's angry or confused or what. He waits for her to say something, anything.

"What the hell, Johnny?" she shouts, the distance is pulverizing. She didn't know why he was following her, and why she was sort of happy about it.

“What, I can't be here?” Johnny shouts back, slowly coming out from behind the grass. He shoves his hands in his pockets, standing his ground. “You don't own this beach.”

Johnny follows, his boots sinking into the soft sand with each step. They walk in silence for a few moments, the tension crackling in the air between them. Finally, he speaks up, his voice softer than before.

"Why do you always have to be such a pain in the ass?"

"That is really rich coming from you, Lawrence" her tone laced with venom. 

Johnny rolls his eyes, kicking at the sand. "You know, for someone who hates my guts, you sure seem to love picking fights with me."

"Shut up," she urges.

Johnny grins, shaking his head. "See? That's exactly what I mean. You can't resist trying to get the last word, can you?"

She shrugs, feeling a little defeated at how on point he was. "So?"

Johnny shrugs back. "Just saying. Maybe you enjoy arguing with me more than you let on." He shoots her a playful grin, trying to bait her.

She shakes her head, she can't believe him. "No, It's because I can't stand you."

Johnny smirks, raising an eyebrow. "Then why haven't you walked away yet?"

She steps back, "You followed me."

Johnny takes a step closer, meeting her gaze. "I know I did. But you could've told me to leave the second you saw me, and you didn't. So, here we are."

His eyes look just like the ocean, she couldn't unwind herself from his trap even if she wanted to. "Fine, Leave" she shrugged

Johnny hesitates, his eyes locked on hers. He could leave. He knows that. But he doesn't want to. And judging by the way she's looking at him, she doesn't want him to either. 

He takes another step closer, their faces inches apart. "You really want me to?" he asks.

"Y-yes" her voice betrays her, her face giving her true feeling away.

"Liar." The word leaves his lips in a low rumble, barely a whisper between them. The air around them is charged with a newfound tension that neither of them can ignore.

Johnny's hand slowly comes up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. His touch is gentle, almost reverent.

.HIs touch makes her tremble, his calloused hands so close to her perfect soft skin. The brain of her existence, the boy that she hated, making her stomach tie in knots. She closed her eyes, leaning into the action

Johnny's gaze is fixed on her, his thumb lingering on her cheek for a moment too long. He's caught in her orbit, pulled in by her magnetism. He leans in closer, his breath hot on her skin, and for a split second, it's like the rest of the world fades away.

But then she pulls back, shaking her head. "This--this is wrong. We can't."

Johnny's heart sinks. He knows she's right. He doesn't want to admit it, but he knows. "But what if it feels right?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. "What if I don't want to feel like I'm fighting with you all the damn time?"

She laughs bitterly, stepping back into reality for a second. "Then what else would we do?"

Johnny smirks, raising an eyebrow. "I can think of a few things." He leans in again, his lips hovering just above hers, as if asking for permission.

Her breath catches, her heart feeling like it's going to beat out of her chest. She looks at him with longing eyes, she knew she couldn't, but dammit if she could resist him.

Johnny's eyes search hers, looking for any sign of hesitation. When he doesn't find any, he closes the gap, his lips finally meeting hers in a kiss that's both tentative and powerful. His arms wrap around her waist, pulling her close as he deepens the kiss, pouring all of his pent-up feelings into that one moment.

She feels herself unravel, all of the hate, all of the resentment, melts away into a passion she always knew was there. One of her hands moves to his back, and the over on his side.

Johnny's response is immediate, his hands running down her back, fingers tracing the curve of her spine. He tilts his head, slanting his mouth over hers, coaxing her lips open to delve deeper. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore is drowned out by the pounding of his heart, the feeling of her body pressed against his sending a jolt of electricity through his veins.

She slips her tongue through the gates of his lips, a risky action that really paid off. He tastes good, better than she ever imagined. 

Johnny groans against her lips, the sound vibrating through him as he pulls her even closer, if that were possible. His tongue tangles with hers, exploring her mouth with a hunger that only seems to grow with every passing moment.  

His hands wander further down, coming to rest on the swell of her hip, his fingers pressing into her soft curves.

Her fingers dance under the back of his shirt, feeling his muscular back as they pant and groan within broken kisses. Her heart and body was lit ablaze, Johnny Lawrence was something she always needed, in one way or another.

Johnny's breath hitches at the feel of her hands against his bare skin, and he breaks the kiss, trailing his lips down her jaw and neck. His fingers toy with the hem of her shirt, teasing the soft skin below, but he restrains himself. Instead, he finds her earlobe with his mouth, sucking gently.

She shivers at his touch, all she could think about was why the hell they didn't do this before. 

Johnny slowly pulls away, pressing his forehead against hers, both of them breathless and flushed. He tries to gather his thoughts, his heart still pounding like a drum in his chest. "We can't keep fighting..." he breathes. "Not when it feels like this."

She nods in agreement, trying to catch her breath. "Yea.. this is.." she started, but she didn't need to finish. They both knew there was no going back from this.

Johnny runs a hand through his hair, still panting slightly. "So, what now?" he asks. "I mean, we still hate each other sometimes, right?" He's trying to make light of the situation, but there's a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. He doesn't want to lose this feeling, this connection they've just discovered.

Johnny's stomach drops at her words. He doesn't want her to go, not now, not after they've crossed this line. But he doesn't stop her, doesn't try to convince her to stay. "Yeah, okay," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. He watches her start to walk away, every step she takes feeling like a punch to the gut.

She fights the urge to look back, walking up the hill and bee lining to her car. She needed to think about all of this, the new territory they've discovered. 

Johnny watches her until she's out of sight, then lets out a long exhale. His mind's reeling, thoughts swirling in a storm of confusion and desire. He can still taste her on his lips, feel her in his arms. He runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head. "What the hell have we got ourselves into?"

That weekend, there was a house party thrown by one of the richies. Everyone was going, including her and all of her friends. She did her hair and makeup, her friends all trying on clothes in her room as they prepared to leave.

Johnny's also going to the party, because how could he miss the chance to show off his bike and party with half the school. He pulls on a black shirt, tugging it down over his toned abs, and grabs his leather jacket. He looks in the mirror, running a hand through his hair and checking his reflection. He looks good, he knows it. And she'll be there. The thought alone makes him grin like an idiot.

The party was bumping, the booze flowing, the rooms filled with light smoke and sweat. Her and her friends were socializing with their typical crowd, she tried desperately not to notice Johnny, looking anywhere but the direct of the cobra kai's.

Johnny rolls into the house on his bike, the engine roaring as he parks it. He strides inside, immediately spotting her and her friends across the room. His eyes linger on her for a moment longer than they should, but he catches himself and looks away. His buddies slap him on the back, pulling him into the party with the promise of booze and good times. They drink and dance, Johnny not-so-subtly stealing glances in her direction every chance he gets.

The night wears on, everyone getting more and more inebriated. Johnny's had a few too many beers, his head buzzing as he leans against the wall. His eyes keep finding her across the room, the sight of her both thrilling and infuriating him. He wants to talk to her, to touch her again, but instead, he takes another swig of beer and sulks.

"Why do you keep looking at her?" Tommy asks, "I thought she was your mortal enemy." 

Johnny shrugs, taking another sip of beer. "Just keeping an eye on her, you know? She's in trouble." He says, but his eyes betray his words, still stealing glances at her across the room.

She keeps looking over to Johnny, the memories of a few days prior swimming in her mind. Their private moment on the beach has been consuming every thought she's had. 

The more the night goes on, the more Johnny's inhibitions start to slip away. He's always been a bit impulsive, and the alcohol is just fueling that fire. He pushes away from the wall, making his way through the crowd, his eyes never leaving her. His friends follow, some cheering him on, the rest just shaking their heads, knowing he's about to do something stupid.

She watches him approach, her friends preparing for their normal battle of insults. "Oh god" her friend sighs, ready for the war to begin.

Johnny stumbles up to her, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Hey," he says, his voice slightly slurred. He's definitely drunk, probably more than he should be. His eyes roam over her, taking in her outfit, her hair, her everything.

She rolls her eyes, taking a sip of her drink."Oh good, another drunk idiot" she spits, a hint of playfulness in her voice. 

"Always so sweet to me," Johnny chuckles, leaning against the wall next to her. "You look good tonight," he adds, his voice low. He's way more honest when he's been drinking, all of his usual defenses lowered.

Her friends gasp, surprised he wasn't insulting her. "That means close to nothing, coming from you" she laughed.

Johnny smirks, shaking his head. "You can't resist teasing me, can you?" He steps closer, his hand finding her hip as he leans in. His voice drops, barely above a rough whisper, "Come outside with me."

She glares at him, he really wasn't subtle. She thought the other day was a fluke, a secret between them. Him grabbing her in front of everyone made both friend groups stare in awe and horror. "Johnny.. not in front of everyone" she pleaded silently. 

"Just come on" he begs, his hand tightening on her hip, "Just for a minute." He's already too far gone to care about the states around them, his only focus is getting her alone, away from the prying eyes of the party. His fingers toy with the fabric of her dress, a silent promise of more if she would just say yes.

She looks back at her friends, all of them pale and faces ridden with wonder. She looks back at him and nods silently, following him outside. The cold air nips at her cheeks, making them flush.

Johnny leads her around the back of the house, far enough away from the party that they have some privacy, but close enough that they can still hear the thumping beats of the music. He's sobered up slightly from the cold air, but he's still feeling pretty buzzed. He turns to her, his eyes hooded and filled with a mixture of desire and mischief. "So, you're gonna tell me I look horrible tonight?" he asks, a teasing grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Well you do" she lets a laugh escape her lips. She takes a sip of her drink, she can feel the energy shift between them, just how it did the other day.

Johnny chuckles, leaning in closer, his breath hot on her skin. "Oh yeah? You gonna hurt my feelings?" He teases, closing the gap between them, his hand finding her hip once more. "I seem to remember you thinking otherwise on the beach the other day," he whispers low in her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

Her chest rises and falls rapidly, the space between them is thin to nothing. "Johnny.." she says warningly, trying to keep her guard high, "We- we can't do this again." She looks up at him, his eyes filled with booze and lust, messy blonde hair draped on his head.

Johnny's expression softens slightly at her words. "Why not?" His hand slides up her side, the touch achingly gentle. His thumb grazes the exposed skin above her dress, making her inhale sharply. "We both wanted it," he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the distant sounds of the party. "I still want it."

Her hands ghost his back, scared to reach out, but impossible to resist. Her lips part to let needy breathes out, her inside turning to mush at his tempting words. "I...I' she stutters, blinking slowly.

Johnny's other hand moves to rest on the small of her back, pulling her even closer. Their faces are inches away now, the tension thick between them. "Tell me to stop," he says, his voice raspy, his eyes locked on her lips. He's testing the waters, seeing how far she's willing to let this go.

Her fingers roam his sides, betraying the words she couldn't even get out. She bites her lip to ease the tension, holding on to her last strand of control. The hate, the arguments all fueled into this, the moment on the beach was only a preview. She couldn't deny him much longer.

Johnny takes her silence as an answer, that last bit of self-control he had snapping. He crashes his lips into hers, kissing her with a searing intensity. His hands roam her back, one fisting in her hair, tugging gently, the other dipping down to her bare thigh.

She grips onto his built figure like it would disappear, engulfing herself in the magic that was his mouth. His warm lips were a nice contrast to the cold night, the alcohol etched into his gums. 

Johnny moans against her, his tongue slipping past her lips to explore her mouth. He presses her against the side of the house, his body hard against hers, every inch of her curves on fire where they touch. His hands wander, gripping her hips, her waist, her thighs, as if trying to memorize every part of her through touch alone.

Their tongues dance together, little gasps come out between kisses. One hand moves to the back of his head, trying to push him impossibly closer. 

The hand in her hair tightens, tilting her head back as he deepens the kiss. He's lost in her, in the taste and feel of her, every rational thought in his head shut down.

She breaks the kiss to catch her breath, then dives down peppering open mouthed kisses down Johnny's neck.

Johnny throws his head back, letting out a low growl as her lips find his neck. His hips thrust forward instinctively, grinding against her, desperate for more. "Fuck" he gasps, his fingers digging into her thigh. "Keep going," he rasps, wanting to feel her lips everywhere.

She glides her tongue down his neck, her lips assaulting the tan skin of his neck. She moved the collar of his shirt to the side to access his collarbone, nipping at the thin, sensitive skin. 

Johnny's breathing is ragged now, his chest heaving as he tries to maintain control. Her lips on his skin feels like pure bliss, setting off sparks of pleasure throughout his entire body. His hips jerk forward again, more out of reflex than anything, pressing her harder against the side of the house. He can feel himself getting hard, the sensation almost painful, restricted by his jeans. He moans softly, his body on fire from her touch.

She palms his bulge, kissing back up his neck to his jaw. The smell of his skin, how his cocky facade crumbled under her touch, it was perfectly intoxicating.

 "Yo! Johnny, where are you?" Dutch yells, walking around the house.

"Fuck" Johnny curses, his head snapping toward the sound of his best friend's voice. He quickly steps away from her, trying to compose himself as best he can. His voice is strained when he calls out, "I'm back here!"

She brushes out her hair with her fingers, trying to make it look like they weren't doing what they were just doing. Dutch rounds the corner "We need help lifting the keg-" he stops mid sentence once he sees who Johnny is with, A smirk plays on Dutch's face, "I'm not interrupting anything, huh?" he teases.

Johnny gives Dutch a death glare, his eyes screaming 'not a word'. "Yea, yea, we're coming" he grumbles, adjusting his clothes to hide the evidence of their heated moment. He throws one last glance at her before following Dutch back to the party, his mind still swirling with the sensation of her touch.

She says outside for a second, his absence making her cold once more. She couldn't help but miss him, wanting him back outside, having her against the house. The composition of their relationship was one you couldn't get enough of, despite every insult, they felt the opposite of those words. She heads back instead, getting another drink to clear her head.

"So" Bobby taps her shoulder with a grin, she almost drops her cup. "I thought you two hated each other" he gestured to Johnny. "We do," she replies, taking a long sip.

Bobby chuckles, leaning against the wall next to her. "Sure looks like it" he teases, raising an eyebrow. "I think you're both confusing hate with something else." he says knowingly.

She shakes her head, "I can't stand him, we can't stand me. Everyone knows that. She tries to play it off, but she steals another look at him, and his lazy drunken smile.

"Mhmm" Bobby hums, not buying it for a second. "Well, keep 'hating' him like that and it's gonna get real obvious, real fast." He nudges her with his elbow, "People might start thinkin' you like him."

"Shut it, Bobby" she snaps, pushing past him to get back to her friends. She knew he was right, but boy, the rest of the cobra's almost pissed her off as much as Johnny did. 

Johnny rejoins the party, a smug grin on his face as he sees her arguing with Bobby. He rolls his eyes, muttering to himself, "Typical." But he can't help the twinge of jealousy he feels, seeing her so close to his best friend. He grabs a beer from a cooler and leans against the wall, watching her from across the room, their unspoken tension thick in the air.

Her and her friends gossip in the corner, but she can't help but feel distracted. Her mind flashes with the images of earlier, how good it felt, how wrong it was. She spaced out, looking at him, undressing him mentally.

Johnny notices her watching him, his cocky grin growing wider as he catches her eye. He takes a slow sip of his beer, his gaze never leaving hers. He just wants her to come back, to feel her body pressed against his again. He tilts his head slightly, a silent invitation for her to come join him.

She shakes her head softly, fighting back a small smile. 

Johnny chuckles, shaking his head. "Stubborn as always." He pushes off the wall, striding through the crowd towards her, ignoring the questioning looks from his friends. He makes his way over to where she's standing, stopping close enough that he can feel her body heat.

She feigned annoyance at his presence for her friends, but secretly, her heart palpitated at every step he took. "What do you want?" she raises an eyebrow at him.

Johnny's grin only widens as he leans in closer, speaking low so only she can hear. "You know what I want" he murmurs, his tone laced with innuendo. He reaches out, tracing a finger along the edge of her dress, teasingly. "And I know you want it too." He moves closer, his chest grazing hers, the proximity making her head spin. "The question is...when are you gonna stop denying it?"

Her eyes dart around as people begin to stare again, the second time this night Johnny has cornered her in front of everyone. "You do realize we are in a room full of people.. people that know we don't like each other" she tries to change the topic, and draw attention to the show they're putting on.

Johnny gives her a challenging grin, "You really think they care? They're all half-drunk and most of them wish they were in my shoes right now." He leans in even closer, his lips almost touching her ear. "But if you want me to stop, just say the word and I'll back off." His voice drops, low and teasing. "You know you don't want me to stop though."

His words were cocky, seductive, and infuriating. The kind that made her want to smack him upside the head, then kiss him senseless. "I'm over this game" she bluffs, walking away, the hallway feeling like it's miles long.

Johnny watches her walk away, his eyes dark with lust. He knows he's gotten under her skin, just like she's gotten under his. But he isn't about to just let her walk away. He waits a beat, then follows her, pushing past dancing bodies and stumbling partygoers. He catches up to her before she can make it far, grabbing her wrist and spinning her around to face him.

Her eyes dart down to his veiny hand grasping hers, and how small her hands look compared to his. "What now?" she huffed, pulling her hand back.

Johnny doesn't let go, instead using his grip to tug her closer. He leans against the wall behind her, caging her in with his body. His eyes roam over her, a wild, hungry look in his gaze. "You keep running away, and I'm gonna start thinking you want me to chase you," he murmurs, his voice rough and low.

"I-I dont" her gaze planted on the floor, lying through her teeth.

Johnny sees right through her. He knows this cat and mouse game they're playing, and it's only making his desire for her grow stronger. "I don't believe you," he whispers, tilting her chin up with a finger, forcing her to meet his gaze. He can see the lust in her eyes, reflecting his own. He tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear, leaning forward so their lips are barely apart. His breath ghosts against her parted lips. "Tell me I'm wrong."

"Jesus, shut up Johnny!" she crosses her arms, wishing those damn lips would just stop moving, stop saying all of these things that make her head spin. 

Johnny chuckles, a mixture of amusement and arousal washing over him at her response. "Not gonna happen," he quips. He reaches out, uncrossing her arms and pinning them above her head, their bodies pressed together. He leans in, his lips finding the spot behind her jaw that makes her go weak in the knees. "Tell me to stop."

 It was sweet torture, he knew her better now to know she wouldn't tell him to stop. She would give in, she basically had to. Her skin felt like it was blazing, his lips causing her to lose every sensible thought once again.

Johnny senses her weakening. Her body melts against him, her breathing shallow. "That's what I thought." he teases, his voice barely a whisper. He places another kiss on her neck, just below her ear, as his hips press into hers. "You want me. Admit it."

She doesn't answer as her hands slowly grab his back, she could tell Johnny was enjoying this way too much. 

The feel of her hands on him sends a jolt of heat straight to his groin, and he grinds into her, his self control wearing thin. "Say it," he growls, teeth grazing her skin. He wants to hear it from her, the words he already knows are the truth.

"I want you" she whispered, her eyes screwed shut. She reaches behind her, fumbling with the door handle behind her as she opens it to what looks like a spare bedroom.

Surprise sparks in Johnny's eyes when she opens the door, his lips still leaving a trail of hot kisses down her neck. He grabs her hand pulling her into the room, shutting the door behind them. His lips find hers, kissing her with fierce intensity as he backs her towards the bed.

She gently falls back, holding herself up. by her elbows as she looks up at him with eager eyes. She reaches up and drags him down by his collar, bringing him into a passionate kiss. 

Jonny falls into her eager kiss, his hands exploring her body everywhere. He tugs her dress up, bunching the material at her hips as their kiss deepens, heated and desperate. He presses his body against hers, pinning her down on the bed.

The straps of her dress behind to drape over the sides of her shoulders as she submits to his figure. Their tongues lock with gasps of relief as they taste each other again. 

Johnny's hips rock into her, his hands slipping between their bodies to feel bare skin. He groans as the kiss gets even wilder, his brain fuzzy with lust. "God, I want you," he pants into the kiss. His hand grips her thigh, sliding up, pushing her dress even further up her body.

She tugs off his shirt, the sight making her mouth practically water. She turns her cold hands down his chest, "I want you, too." The admission makes her shy as she dives in for another kiss, her head turning to get deeper into his mouth. 

Johnny moans as she strips his shirt, a shiver coursing through him from her cold hands. The words go straight to his already painfully hard cock, and he growls as the kiss deepens. His large fingers grip her thighs, squeezing the soft flesh. His body presses into hers, desperate to feel her completely. "I'm yours, I always was"  he whispers against her mouth.

She groans in disbelief and pleasure, how did she deny what they had for so long? The hate melted away into something so much more electric that had always been there. She pulls up her dress more, her lacy panties on display for him and only him. "Yeah, you too.."

Johnny takes in her sight with a sharp inhale. He always knew she was gorgeous, but there's something about seeing her like this, a delicious temptation, just for him. He groans again as he watches her pull her dress up, his fingers tracing up her thighs to toy with the hem of her panties. 

Johnny smirks, biting his lip. "Yeah, I'm yours."

The light touch sends shock waves down her spine, her body curls in response. "God.." she says breathlessly, his fingers teasing her in the most perfect way. 

Johnny grins at this reaction, loving the power he has over her body. He watches her eyes flutter, taking in every sound she makes. He slides a finger under her panties, teasing her through the fabric, his lips ghosting over hers. "What was that?" he teases.

"Feels.. different" she jokes through her whimpers, she was becoming more desperate for Johnny with each beat of her heart. HIs smell, his touch, that look in his eyes was about enough to kill her. 

"I know," Johnny replies, his cocky smirk on display. He loves seeing her squirm, knowing he's the one causing it. His fingers continue to tease her, still only grazing over the thin material. "Do you want me to keep going?" he asks, his lips against her ear.

"I think I'd just about lose my mind if you didn't," she laughed, tracing his shoulder. Her light touch teasing him, driving him closer to completely losing control. It was a tension that had been accumulating for months, finally coming to fruition. 

Johnns finger dips below the elastic waistline, his middle finger grazing her clit. A glow groan escapes her soft lips, plump from assault. He watches her every reaction, drinking her in like an oasis in the middle of the desert.

She unzips his pants, Johnny lets out a shaky breath, he can hardly believe this is finally happening.

 Johnny lets out a shaky breath as she pulls down his zipper, his hips rocking into her touch. Her lips, her body, the sounds she makes, it's driving him feral with desire. "Touch me," he groans, pressing into her. He needs her hands on him, her skin on his.

She reaches down his boxers, finding he was already very aroused. "You're.. woah" she sighs, he was well endowed, that was for sure. She began to stroke him as he picked up the pace on her core.

Johnny moans, his head tilting back as pleasure courses through him. Her touch was perfect, her fingers knowing what he wanted, but not giving him enough, just enough to drive him mad with anticipation. "Mm- ah- Jesus," he groans, the combination of her hand on him and his fingers on her is intense, building the fire deep in his gut. "You- mmm-" he gasps, his fingers moving faster, wanting her to lose control, too.

"I want you so bad" she moans into Johnny's shoulder as her toes curl. She looked up at him, his blonde hair was sweaty and messy over his forehead and god- he looked amazing.

Johnny is losing himself, giving his whole body over to her. He's panting, his pupils blown wide, his fingers pushing a little deeper, moving a little faster. "You have me," he groans. "You always have." He can feel the tension building in his gut, the heat rushing to his lower body.

She smirks, biting her lip at his honesty. "That's not what I meant..." she sits up and takes off her dress. She wanted all of him, she wanted him so deep in her that she could hardly form any words. 

Johnny's breath catches, his eyes roaming over her body once again, greedily taking in her form. She was perfect. He stands, kicking off his pants and boxers as he leans back down over her, his mouth devouring hers as he presses himself against her. He needs her. "Tell me what you want," he growls.

Her heart raced as she could hardly contain the butterflies in her stomach. She admired his muscular physique, his large body, and the way he was desperate to please her. "I want you to fuck me" she whispered like it was a sin.

Johnny groans as he presses into her, her words igniting a flame in him. "I was hoping you'd say that," he whispers into her neck, biting down gently as he presses his lips against her soft skin. He was desperate, aching for more as he nipped at her neck, sucking at the skin.

She moans at the feeling of him teasing her entrance, the warmth building between the both of them was unmatchable. "More" she begged.

The sounds she makes, her soft skin, Johnny groans again, needing to hear her beg more. "I want to hear it," he rasps, his hand running down her side. "Say please."

"Please, Johnny" she said in a soft moan, goosebumps rising at the touch of his calloused hands.

God, the sound of her saying please in the sweetest tone, his head is swimming, aching with lust. Johnny smirks, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thighs. "Good girl," he murmurs, his eyes locking on hers. "Want me that badly?" He presses against her again, just teasing her as he watches her expression.

"Jesus, Johnny" she gives out an exasperated sigh, "No wonder I hated you for so long." She looks deep into his icy eyes, needing him more than she ever needed anything in her life "Please fuck me, Johnny."

Johnny can barely suppress a grin at her words, the sweet mix of lust and praise pushing him to the edge. He kisses her, long and hard, as he presses into her, a long groan being stifled by her mouth. He breaks the kiss, looking at her heatedly, "Say it again."

"Fuck me, now" she became impatient, although she liked the teasing. But it had gone on for too long, she needed him now.

Johnny's grin widens at this, "I've wanted you, needed you so badly." He leans down, kissing her hard, needing her closer as he rocks into her. He groans, feeling her against him and it's euphoric.

The pressure of him inside her made her let out a primal moan, he stretched her out in a way no one else ever would. "Holy- fuck" she groaned as he began to slide in and out of her wet heat. "Feels good" she whimpered, drunk off of him. 

"Oh god, you feel perfect" he moans, his mouth at her ear as he rocks with a steady rhythm. His hands roam her body, trying to find every sensitive spot. He can't get enough of her, his lips moving to her neck, marking her soft skin. This was like a dream, his body burning everywhere they touched. It's overwhelming, her sounds sending shocks down his back to his cock. He keeps moving, trying to make her lose control, to lose herself in him. They've waited too long for this, and needed it too much.

She pants as he lifts up her leg, sliding in at a deeper angle. "Oh god!' she screams, it feels way too good after all of the teasing tonight. He was so deep inside her, hitting every spot, making her see stars.

Johnny's breath hitches as he rocks into her, the sounds of his groan and her panting filling the entire room. He needs her, all of her, every sound she makes. He reaches down, taking her thighs with his hands, his lips finding her collarbone as he kisses her hard. "That's it," he moans, "I'm right here." And gods, she feels incredible, the way her body moves with him, he doesn't want it to stop. His pace is hard, but it isn't enough. He wants all that she'll give him. 

"You're so tight," he groaned. 

Herheat tightens around him, "I'm getting so close" she cries. Tears of pleasure rolled down her cheeks, her lips parted letting out the most sultry sounds Johnny had ever heard.

Johnny groans, his jaw going slack from her noises and her words. He's so close, her pleasure bringing him right to the edge with her. He wants her to go first, to feel her fall apart around him. "Look at me," he groans, moving his lips from her neck to her mouth.

Her climax sends him tumbling over the edge right after, his lips capturing hers almost desperately, muffling his loud groan as he rocks into her. His grip on her thighs tightens as he rides out his orgasm, the intense pleasure making his vision go white. He pulls back, panting softly as he drinks her in. 

"That was..." Johnny starts, but he doesn't know how to finish. His mind was a fuzzy mess, but he's never been so happy.

"Yeah.." she breathes, smiling. 

Johnny kisses her, slower, softer. This was not the way he imagined their first time, but he wouldn't change it for the world. He wraps his arms around her, holding her close as his breathing finally slows.

"I still can't stand you," she teases, being swallowed by his touch. She began to think about what comes after this, what their friends will think.

"Ditto," he chuckles, kissing her neck. He could stay like this forever, but he can already feel reality creeping back in. Johnny knows there are a million questions to answer, like, how the hell they're getting out of this situation. But he just wants to hold her in his arms for a few more moments.

LET ME KNOW IF YALL WANT A PART 2!

[konpeitonom]

general dating headcanons for captain grant curly.

sfw— lowercase intended ^_^

g/n reader - no pronouns mentioned

requests are open, i do all the characters ^.^

notes; i love this guy. all of these are pre-crash on earth. i would love to write for post-crash/found curly someday perhaps. these are kind of everywhere. not proofread oopsies. wrote them sleep deprived zzz .. going to bed now!

— this man is extremely overbearing when it comes to his love. i mean there’s a reason everyone compares him to a golden retriever.

— in my small brain he is 6’2 and very beefy. he works out! it’s canon! gym bro and will annoy you about your protein intake.. but it’s because he cares!

— he is a morning person. it’s annoying unless you are one too. he will get up at 5 on the dot! he is not a coffee drinker in my opinion, or at least a morning one. he heard cold water is best in the mornings as a teen and stuck with it since.

— by the time you’re awake he’s already had breakfast (prepared you some as well, of course), ran a couple miles, and did all his chores.

— this man is the definition of acts of service. he is extremely considerate. If you're particular about food, how it’s cooked- how it’s served, he will make the effort to do so correctly.

— if you ever bring it up though he’ll just say ‘it’s the bare minimum for a man’ haha

— sort of likes it when you’re sick. not in a weird way, he just thinks it’s cute how you act. and he likes to take care of you. he is a very traditional man in that sense.

— i think he’s very private with his love! like everyone would know you’re together, no doubt about it. maybe subtle hand or cheek kisses in public but not much more than that. i think he thinks love is a very intimate, private thing.

— he’s not materialistic in any sense, quite the opposite. he’d invest and save in high quality things, get you the exact ring you’d want or do research in your hobbies to make sure you’d like what he’d purchase.

— i also like to think he sort of puts up a front when with others, but not with you. ideally, he’d want someone he can be vulnerable with from time to time and not feel as if he has to walk on eggshells constantly.

— he’d like pinching/poking at your tummy. he seems like a tummy guy. like he’d grab at it and squish it. i think he’d find thighs cute too.

— i think he’s definitely a cute-over-sexy kind of guy!! i stand by this!! no one can convince me otherwise.

— he likes playful banter! playful teasing! someone quick-witted. it eases up any potential tension.

— he would also just hold your hands and rub your fingers softly, kissing your knuckles. again, he’s very soft with his love. he’d be upset to hurt you in any way, especially physically. he knows he can be a bit too much when it comes to affection. and he never wants to make you uncomfortable!!

— back to his whole ‘private intimacy’ thing. he feels closest to you when you’re ‘parallel playing’.. doing mundane things, your own hobbies, but being beside each other- he feels so lucky to be able to do that. it feels domestic.

— we’ve already seen it in-game, but he does not like to argue whatsoever. sometimes it does him good, apologizes quickly, but in more serious moments it could definitely come off as him brushing off your feelings.

— he doesn’t intend to, he just wants to avoid arguing at all costs.

— more of a “let’s just talk things through” kind of guy. haha. as his partner you’ll have to understand how to talk to him, i assume.

— he is a good man. a great man even… husband material..

[anathemaspeaks]

come and get your love

character(s): gojo satoru synopsis: the one in which your best friend needs only one thing - you. or; the three times he's wanted you, and the one time he got you. word count: 4k warning(s): smut a/n: ALL DAY ALL NIGHT NO LUBE NO PROTECTION PLEASE requests are open <3 likes, reblogs, and follows are appreciated!

you and gojo satoru were neighbors.

that was how you met in the first place - you were walking home from college, your new dior perfume (which cost a kidney and a half) in one hand, and dinner in the other. you were walking across the corridor-

crash!

a 6"3 blur of white just ran past you, bumping into you and yelling a "sorry!" and muttering something about cursing someone. perfume bottle now in pieces and on the floor, you were pissed, but he was long gone. asshole.

that was the blur you came to know as satoru. while you were eating dinner, satoru had showed up at your door with a bottle of the exact same perfume - not smushed this time. well, maybe he wasn't so bad.

you invited in the handsome stranger to thank him, and asked if he wanted to eat anything. he was about to refuse, until he saw the untouched chocolate cake lying in your kitchen. who could say no to that?

and that was the beginning of your friendship.

that was the first and last time he wasn't a constant pain in your ass. now, he was your self-declared best friend and it's been almost a year since you both first met, and you enjoyed his company a lot more than you'd ever admit.

in more ways than one, too.

the first time:

in this year you'd also discovered something. well, watched it unfold, really. some smartass (read: geto) decided to give satoru an ipad for his birthday.

safe to say, he was addicted to it within a day.

he became an actual ipad kid. everytime he came over he'd have his ipad out, playing games or watching something. why he couldn't just use a normal phone or laptop like a normal person was beyond you. and he never went anywhere without it. he even took it to college.

well, he did just get an ipad, so you could sort of understand it. but still. weirdo.

you both were both going out to a club tonight with all of your friends. you'd finished doing your hair, and you were almost done with your makeup. you still had to wear your dress. you'd decided to go with a sleeveless blue corset dress that reached mid-thigh.

you were done pre-gaming, if you drank anymore, you weren't going to get through the night. you were applying your lip liner, when you heard a knock on the door. knowing exactly who it was, you went to open it.

the second you opened the door, you slammed it shut. he looked good - he was wearing a white shirt rolled up to his forearms, with the top two buttons undone, and black pants. but that wasn't the problem.

he was wearing a bright blue backpack. a fucking backpack. and you knew exactly what was in it. you had to mentally prepare yourself before you talked him out of it.

"satoru, either you leave the bag or you're not coming."

"but-"

"no, you can't carry an ipad with you to a club."

"okay okay, i'll..." he paused, his eyes moving lower, followed by silence.

"well?" you asked, breaking the pause.

"...that dress looks really good on you" he said, voice a bit breathier than normal.

"what?" you asked, cheeks now dusted pink.

suddenly, he moved closer and leaned down right next to your ear, voice just above a murmur. "i said, that dress looks incredible on you," he glanced down again, raking his eyes over your form, eyes lingering a beat too long on your curves.

"though, i think it would look even better on my bedroom floor"

your visibly choked. was he finally making a bolder move on you, one that isn't a really cheesy pick-up line, or a failed attempt at flirting? fuck.

"i think you've pre-gamed a little too hard, satoru," you whispered, the heat in your cheeks betraying you, a warmth slowly spreading through your body just by looking at him. he was gorgeous.

he pouted at that, and you almost gave in. his pretty blue eyes wide with hope, and his pouty lips practically begging you to kiss the frown away.

and you don't know whether you were drunk on the alcohol or on your proximity to the god of a man in front of you, but you found yourself thinking about what it would feel like to really kiss his plump lips.

"i'm not drunk!" he protested.

"i know, 'toru, but we've gotta go, come on." it was probably just him being delirious, but you couldn't help the butterflies in your stomach.

but then, at the club, he didn't leave your side on the dance floor even once. he was so close you could feel his body heat, eyes locked in a silent conversation. it sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

as he dropped you off, with his voice an octave deeper, he said, "you should wear blue more often."

then, he straightened up and went into his house like it was nothing, a stupid smirk on his face.

collapsing onto the couch, you buried your face in a pillow, the scent of his cologne still lingering on your dress, infiltrating your senses. sleep wouldn't come. all you could see were his stormy blue eyes, filled with unspoken desire - one you tried denying you felt for him too, until today.

why was he so irresistible?

a muted scream found its way out of your mouth, muffled by the pillow, a delicious mix of frustration and something far more needy. damn him and those strong shoulders that seemed to stretch on forever beneath his thin white shirt, the poor fabric straining against his biceps with every movement.

and his face? his lips, so full and slightly parted, an invitation for you to kiss them, the moonlight casting a sinful glow on the way his jaw clenched with unspoken desire all night long. you swore he was a walking sculpture come to life, every line and angle sculpted by the gods themselves.

now, satoru knew he wanted you since the day he met you. your angry pout, yet somehow kind eyes had him falling hook, line and sinker. but this was different. he had never felt a longing this deep, and only you brought out that side of him.

it drove him insane.

his hands on your waist all night, lips only a few inches away from each other, that fucking dress that took his breath away - it felt so intoxicating.

things were going to change between the both of you for the better, he hoped.

the second time:

it had been a week since that night, and now you both were attending suguru's 21st birthday party. you were all going to stay at an expensive hotel in las vegas for the whole weekend.

god, you loved being friends with rich people.

it was three people per room, and you were all to be assigned your rooms by the birthday boy himself. you read the text he sent. you were paired up with shoko... and satoru.

you could already tell this was going to be a long weekend.

the roar of the plane engines on the way there served as a backdrop for the girls' chatter - you included. every few seconds your gaze would flicker to him, seemingly engrossed in his ipad. but his scorching glances that lingered a beat too long told you it was a blatant lie.

he was watching you. watching with an intensity that almost made you fold in half, and made you feel your heartbeat in your throat. every laugh, every word you said, you knew he was looking. at you.

when the plane finally touched down in vegas, the desert heat slapped you in the face.

a wave of relief washed over you when you finally reached the hotel lobby. this place was huge. as you finished unpacking and settling into the room, shoko decided she wanted to leave and explore the hotel.

"you coming?" she asked both of you.

"be right there!" you replied. you still needed to fix up your outfit and makeup. now the only ones in the room were you and satoru, who claimed he had to freshen up.

as you applied your mascara, you felt his warm hand right above the waistband of your jeans, fingers barely brushing past your hips, the touch alone sending a heat through you.

but then he straightened up, the moment ending too soon for you liking. fucking tease.

"sorry!" he said, batting his long eyelashes at you and acting oh-so-innocent. he didn't know what he just started.

the rest of the afternoon was a blur. you all unpacked, shared stories and spent the entire day lounging around. as the sun set, you went to change your clothes into something more fitting for the casino.

you picked a short, black dress this time, neckline dipping just a little bit too low, knowing he'd be looking at you. the dress clung to you like a second skin. you were a sight to see in that outfit - maybe it was even better than your last one.

you ended up at the bar, the air thick with the mingled scent of expensive liquor and something far more exhilarating. just then, a rather handsome man approached you, his voice smooth and deep. he asked you if you would like a drink.

you decided to have a little fun and play along, enjoying the blatant display of interest - but you were very aware of satoru's gaze burning into you. his jaw was clenched tight, eyes narrowed a fraction. his stare was so intense it sent chills down your spine.

you took a sip of your drink, eyes meeting satoru's across the room. a slow smile spread across your lips, he definitely wouldn't back down now. not when you looked that divine. not when you had that scum talking to you - an absolute goddess.

you continued sipping your drink and listening to the man's attempt at smooth talking you. you decided you'd had enough for now, so you excused myself and headed towards the ground floor balcony. you didn't have to look back to know satoru was following you.

the cool desert air on the balcony offered a welcome respite. the real thrill came in the form of satoru, appearing beside you. he looked amazing, navy blue suit doing nothing to hide his body. you were positive he wasn't real.

"need some fresh air?" he asked, clearly trying to act nonchalant.

"oh, something like that" you replied, a playful smile dancing on your lips. "maybe i just needed a moment to appreciate the view... besides the one inside, you know."

he grinned a bit mockingly, tilting his head and leaning down so that he could look directly into your eyes from above his sunglasses, "don't think i haven't noticed what you're up to" he said, voice husky.

a warmth flared through you, and a barely concealed smile of triumph found its way onto your face. mission accomplished.

"god, that dress is making it impossible to breathe, impossible to think of anything else but you. makes me wanna forget this whole damn night and just..." he trails off, gaze flickering to your lips, then back to your eyes.

fuck it, he won.

you leaned in closer, the distance between your lips shrinking with every passing second. this was it. you were so close, your lips inches away from-

"there you two are. everyone's looking for you, let's go dance."

your softly sighed in frustration. satoru straightened up, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features before they returned to his normal overly happy ones.

"didn't know you were looking for us! let's go," he replied.

you grabbed shoko's arm and went to the dance floor, thoughts of satoru and how he was so close to you, how he almost had his lips on yours on your mind as you tried to dance the night away.

the rest of the weekend unfolded in a blur of flashing lights and pounding music. you were in a group, inseparable yet frustratingly apart. every stolen touch, every lingering look, felt like a secret whispered in a crowded room.

but in the end, the chance for a private conversation never came again. this had to be some cruel joke.

the third time:

two weeks after the party, you all met up at shoko's house. you left to go upstairs and find the bathroom. when you came back down, everyone had started a water fight in the backyard.

you left them alone for two minutes.

you walked out, only to get drenched from head to toe almost instantly. you were going to kill suguru for soaking your new gray shirt, which was now see through.

you spotted satoru amidst everyone, his stare locked onto your chest. you were wearing sky blue lingerie. it was a blatant stare - raw, and hungry. it gave you goosebumps. it wasn't planned, but god, you were glad it happened.

you set a mental reminder to thank geto.

before you could do anything, his eyes shifted back up, meeting yours. a flicker of apology danced in his gaze, quickly overshadowed by something much deeper.

suddenly remembering where you are, you sneakily grabbed the nearest water balloon, a mischievous glint in your eyes. you aimed square at his torso. the balloon hit satoru's chest with a loud slap!

if your shirt was soaked, it was only fair that his was too, right? now he was completely wet. bull's eye.

he sputtered, the shock quickly giving way to a wide, mischievous grin. water dripped down his face, tracing a path along the sharp line of his jaw and disappearing down his neck to his abs.

oh. his abs. the sight alone drenched you in a place where the water balloon didn't. he shook himself off with a laugh, raising his hands in surrender and unintentionally flexing his biceps. oh wow.

was he trying to kill you?

this time, though, his eyes remained fixed on yours with a look that almost had you fighting for air. you both continued to drown each other, competing to see who caused the most damage, taking any chance to get closer.

as the sun started to set, you all started leaving. you and satoru said your goodbyes to shoko and started walking towards the car, talking about how fun the day was.

you stole a glance at satoru. fuck.

his drenched t-shirt clung to his broad frame, outlining the way his muscles flexed with every step. your cheeks burned at the memory of his stare, the way his gaze had lingered on your tits, making your face heat up.

"think you'll survive the drive home like that, princess? i did do some damage, you know," he teasingly asked, amusement evident in his voice.

"oh i will, don't you worry princess," you replied. "just more proof that i completely demolished your snow white ass." he laughed at that, smile making him glow even more in the golden hour lighting.

you both continued bantering until you reached the basement and he parked the car.

you were walking towards your apartment. you tilted your head up, a shine in your eyes. "so," you started, "what do you say we call a truce until next time? and then winner takes it all."

a slow smile spread across his face.

"truce it is" he conceded, "but winner gets any prize of their choice," he said with a slight smirk.

he leaned in ever so slightly, his lips hovering a tantalizing distance from yours. the scent of his cologne, somehow still present, invaded your senses completely.

"oh? and how do you propose we decide this prize?" you asked, indulging him.

he chuckled, the pretty sound ringing in your ears. "let's just say," he leaned in again, close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek again, "i have a few ideas in mind."

you slowly tilted your head upwards and batted your eyelashes, leaning into him before saying "mm, goodnight, 'toru." you let your gaze shift to his full lips before meeting his eyes.

but you pulled away before he could make a move. you relished in the look on his face - like a man starved, eyes filled with a desperate need. for you.

you played off your own need for him with a teasing, innocent smile as you entered your apartment. you needed him. fast.

the fourth time:

satoru was a mess. the usual carefree, playful glint in his eyes was replaced by sadness, his usual smile replaced by a deep pout. he was draped in a giant, fuzzy blanket, clutching a tub of ice cream like a lifeline.

the culprit? a broken ipad.

how he managed to break it beyond repair was quite impressive, actually.

'good riddance,' you thought, thinking about his avid screen addiction.

but the sight of him trudging around your apartment like a kicked puppy, a half-eaten tub of ice cream clutched in one hand and a giant blanket draped over his broad shoulders - you almost felt bad.

you turned on the tv, hoping to distract him, but the suggestion was met with a watery glare and a choked sob. "it's not the same," he moaned, his voice thick with despair, "nothing can make me forget about my broken heart," he sighed.

what a drama queen.

you stifled a smile, the jab dying on your tongue. this wasn't like satoru. this was a whole new level of gloominess. it was kind of adorable, actually. he slumped onto the couch, sitting next to you, the oversized blanket engulfing him like a cocoon of misery.

hesitantly, you reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead. his skin was warm beneath your touch, and his eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were clouded with a vulnerability you would never guess was caused by an ipad of all things.

"maybe you need a different kind of distraction," you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. you felt bold.

he turned towards you, gaze locking onto yours. you swore you saw a hint of something other than vulnerability - something that made the butterflies in your stomach flutter. the air hung heavy with the weight of what you said.

neither of you moved, still maintaining eye contact.

"you sure about what you're asking for?" he asked softly, already leaning in towards you.

your gaze flickered from his perfect lips, full and inviting, to the hint of stubble darkening his jawline. every fiber of your being yearned to bridge the gap, to kiss him like you needed to.

"positive," you breathed, neediness evident in your tone.

the space between you vanished in a blink. he leaned in, breath warm against your lips as he filled up the space between you. one hand cupped your cheek, touch surprisingly gentle in contrast to the primal need in his eyes.

his lips met yours with a hunger that stole your breath away, the taste of him a delicious combination of cookie dough from the ice cream, and something else, something so... satoru.

his hand on your face deepened its hold, his thumb tracing a path down your jawline in a slow, deliberate caress. you mirrored the movement, fingers tangling themselves in the soft fabric of his t-shirt, desperate to feel the solid warmth of his body against yours.

the kiss deepened, a tangle of limbs and breathless gasps. his hand moved lower, the thin fabric of your shirt allowing you to feel the searing heat of his palm on your back, his lips moving perfectly against yours

your breath hitched as his hand went under your shirt to grip your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

as much as you wanted to continue, the heat pooling in your lower stomach became harder and harder to ignore with every passing second.

you broke apart from the kiss reluctantly, a string of saliva connecting you both.

"bedroom" you demanded, not wanting to spend another second without his lips on yours. you closed the gap between you both, desperate to taste him again. you felt his arm hook under your thighs as he lifted you up, never once breaking the kiss, the other hand remaining on your jaw, picking you up like it was nothing.

he pressed you up against every wall on the way to the room, lips practically devouring you. your nails dug into the muscles of his back from under his shirt, urging him closer, closer. you were definitely going to leave marks, ones that he would wear proudly.

he chuckled in pride at the thought of that, a low rumble against your lips that made your skin tingle, before pulling back just enough to trail a searing kiss down your jawline. he nipped at your neck before biting it. hard. he continued until he was positive you would see them for the rest of the week.

you felt his cock growing under you. your breath hitched in excitement as his lips dipped lower, sending shivers dancing across the exposed skin of your shoulders. and finally, you reached your room.

you were a trembling mess, body aching in anticipation and need for him, panties so soaked you were sure he could feel it.

in the dim light of the moon filtering through the window, he looked like an angel - chest heaving, lips swollen from all the kissing, eyes almost black with desire - all for you.

he placed you onto the bed, getting up to take off his shirt. you let your eyes wander, drinking in the sight of him. he was heavenly. toned muscles glistening with a light sheen of sweat from the heat, hair disheveled from you running your hands through it and tugging at it.

you sat up to take your shirt off as well, but he interjected. "let me," he whispered, "been waiting for this for so long, fuck."

he stared at you, now fully naked underneath him. hair spread out on your pillow, lips still wet from his hungry kisses, eyes focused only on him. he was convinced this moment wasn't real.

he took off his shorts and boxers, and-

oh fuck. he was huge, and just as pretty as the rest of him. veins ran up and down the length of his throbbing cock, tip flushed pink - almost red, and leaking pre-cum.

"you did that to me, babygirl" he said, noticing your gaze.

you had to taste him. as you reached out, he stopped you. "i'd love that, but not today," he choked out, voice deep and filled with desperation.

"if i'm not inside you within the next minute, i might actually lose my mind," he groaned, large, calloused hands spreading your thighs apart.

the last of your resolve crumbling, "then fuck me, 'toru, please, need you s'bad" you whined, pulling him down into a searing kiss.

he lined up with your entrance, pushing in just the tip. you felt stretched out already. "'s too big" you cried out. "aw, you can take it pretty girl," he cooed. he was barely inside but it just felt so good. you needed more, more satoru.

you bucked your hips up a little pleading for more. taking the message, he bottomed out in a single thrust, causing you to moan his name. "shit baby. keep saying my name like that and i'm not gonna last long" he grunted, pulling almost fully out of you.

your mind was consumed with only him. satoru, satoru, satoru - fuck, you couldn't get enough. he was practically splitting you in half with his cock, but you took it like a good girl. his good girl.

"fuck, you're takin' me so well. god, look at you, such a good girl f'me, my perfect girl" you reveled in the praise, mind almost numb from how well he was fucking you, cock drilling into your dripping cunt like a man deprived.

"y'know how long i've waited for this? to have you all spread out f'me? oh, you're such a damn tease, doll. you knew exactly what you were doing, huh? wearin' that damn blue dress, and blue lingerie f'me too? what a slut."

his words sent a heat flooding through you - warm, plush walls clamping down on him, moans and whines ripping from your throat, so cock drunk all you could say was his name like a prayer, over and over again.

"mm, y-you weren't so innocent either, y'know" you bit back, whines escaping your throat. god, he loved that mouth of yours.

"shit, wanted you since i first met you, baby. you drive me fuckin' insane" he choked out, voice getting raspier. he was a vision. muscles flexing so deliciously with every thrust of his hips, teeth biting on his lip as he moaned out your name, eyes looking only at you.

fuck, he really was perfect. he leaned down to kiss you again, a large hand finding its way to your tits. he caressed it, playing with your nipple while fucking you.

you were so painfully close.

his balls slapped against your ass, cock pushing into you with a force only he could possess. you loved the feeling of how right he felt inside you, the squelching sound of your pussy fluttering around him as he relentlessly thrust into you driving you both to the edge.

"s'toru i'm- 'm gonna- hngh" you clenched down on him impossibly tighter as you came. he came after a few more thrusts, release mixing with yours and seeping down onto your now very stained sheets.

he collapsed down next to you, an arm around your waist, pulling you to face him.

it was such a stark contrast - two minutes ago he was fucking you like there was no tomorrow, and now here he was, looking at you with a dopey smile on his face and a shine in his bright blue irises.

you couldn't help but grin back. you stayed like that until you caught your breaths, heartbeats slowly returning back to normal.

"so, since the day you first met me, huh?" you asked, a playful smile finding its way onto your face. you were met with a blush of embarrassment spreading across his cheeks. only satoru could go from the epitome of a sex god to a flustered mess within two minutes.

"been obsessed with you since i first saw that look on your face when i broke your expensive perfume. that was hot. but then, i got to know you better, and you were so sweet and funny and so goddamn pretty and i- i just couldn't help but... you know." he admitted, eyes averting from yours.

he said it with the demeanor of a man who wasn't fucking your brains out a minute ago.

you gripped his jaw, making him look at you again. and then you kissed him - a soft, tender one, pouring in all of your emotions. you wanted him to know you reciprocated his emotions.

"good, because i felt the same way 'toru" you smiled against his lips.

"well what took you so long then?"

"what took me so long? what about you?"

"you're the one who liked me," he replied, as if it was oh-so-obvious.

"well you liked me first satoru!" you sassed, trying to turn away from him.

he pulled you back, arms wrapping around your middle and made you face him again, grip on your waist never faltering.

"so, round two?"

bonus points if you can guess where the title's from

the ipad kid part is kinda random but i totally think he'd be one so 😭

[copepods]

so, there's no official place im aware of that's compiled the names of every music track in rain world which includes DLC, unused tracks, alpha tracks, and includes every location those tracks can be found, so! i made one :) mostly just for my own fun bc i love cataloguing things.

sadly i cant include links bc there's a limit on tumblr, but these should all be pretty easy to find with a quick google search. to find the rooms listed here, since room names aren't necessarily very descriptive, you can use the interactive map!

black text = track plays in vanilla game (these songs may appear additional times with blue text in other sections)

purple text = track is unique to the downpour ost

orange text= unused vanilla track, from the files or james' soundtrack albums, which was added in-game in downpour

blue text= track used for a new location in downpour, but also appears somewhere in vanilla (these songs also appear with black text in their original vanilla locations)

all in-game tracks are sorted by the regions they appear in. some tracks play in multiple regions- these will appear on the list multiple times, sorted into each region they play in.

Trailer and promotional music (Can all be found on Youtube)

RW dayns: promotional material (Remix of Sundown)

Threat - Superstructure (Trailer Remix): Switch trailer

What Fate A Slugcat: Release trailer (Alt version of Urban Jungle)

Together: Co-op trailer

Overskog: Downpour launch trailer, creatures teaser

Downpour: Downpour teaser trailer

Triptrap: Downpour regions teaser

Landmarks: Downpour lizards teaser

Task: Challenge mode teaser

Unused threat layers (can be found on Music page of RW Wiki)

Threat - Outskirts: with unused layer SU_4

Threat - Farm Arrays: with unused layer TH_LF - CHORDS

(note: listed on the wiki are two additional unused layers for Threat - Garbage Wastes and Threat - Heavy Industrial, but listening to them I can find literally zero difference from the original release. maybe it's just my ears idk)

Alpha tracks (from the original Alpha release of the game, called Alpha_8, later added to Alphas, Gems and Junk)

RW_2: Alpha_8

RW_3: Alpha_8

RW_4: Alpha_8, Alpha Trailer Music

RW_5: Alpha_8

RW_6: Alpha_8 (titled Deathpit in James Primate's Soundcloud)

RW_11: Alpha_8

Album Exclusives

RW_12: Alphas, Gems and Junk (titled 3 Moon Sunset on James' Soundcloud)

Illegible Neon Signs (RW_17): Alphas, Gems and Junk

Beat (RW_21): Alphas, Gems and Junk

Beat (RW_22): Alphas, Gems and Junk

Beat (RW_23): Alphas, Gems and Junk

Sky Islands (RW_24): Alphas, Gems and Junk

Night City (RW_25): Alphas, Gems and Junk

Free Mind Loop (RW_30): Alphas, Gems and Junk

Sub Sub Sub (RW_31): Alphas, Gems and Junk

Frost Reaper (RW_98): Downpour OST album

Threat - Rubicon (TH_HR): Downpour OST album

Arena music

Noisy (RW_10): Arena

Action Scene (RW_13): Arena (titled Breakbeat Bonebreak on James' Soundcloud)

Weyuon (RW_33): Arena

Slaughter (RW_34): Arena

Wired (RW_68): Arena

GREY CLOUD (RW_32): Arena

Rooftops (RW_7): Arena (titled Skyline in James' Soundcloud)

Menu and cutscene

Sundown (Theme I) (RW_8): Main menu and credits (Technically combination of Sundown (no rain) and TitleRollRain) [titled Adagio for Rain World on James' Soundcloud]

Pictures of the past (RW_Intro_Theme): Survivor and Monk intro cutscene

Passages: passage screen

Reclaiming Entropy (RW_92): Saint end cutscene and credits (Was formerly named Theme V - Credits pre-Downpour)

Outro Theme (RW_Outro_Theme_B): Survivor, Monk, and Gourmand end cutscenes

Satellite (RW_72): SI_A07 (Spearmaster end cutscene)

BM_SS_DOOR: Saint intro cutscene

Train Tunnels (RW_27): Expedition menu

Garden (RW_65): Expedition loss screen

Halcyon Memories (NA_19): CL_AI, RM_AI (Music pearl), Rivulet end cutscene and credits (Spelled Halcon Memories in OST album)

BM_CC_CANOPY: Artificer end cutscene

Deep Light (Theme IV): Ascension end cutscenes (Technically combination of Deep Ghosts/VS_E_DEEP_GHOSTS, The Core/VS_F_THE_CORE and Outro Theme/RW_Outro_Theme)

Game Music

Outskirts (SU)

Threat - Outskirts (TH_SU)

Unseen Lands (NA_40): SU_A53

Urban Jungle (RW_1): SU_B04

Proxima (NA_01): SU_A07

Frosted Festival (RW_80): SU_A53 (Saint only)

Distance (NA_30): SU_PUMP03

Drainage System (DS)

Mud Pits (RW_09): DS_B02

The Wet Moist (RW_38): DS_B04

Old Growth (RW_15): DS_B01

Swaying Fronds (RW_51): DS_A26

Breathing Hyometer (RW_81): DS_GUTTER01

Industrial Complex (HI)

Threat - Heavy Industrial (TH_HI)

BM_HI_GATE: HI_B04

Bio-Engineering (RW_43): HI_B04, HI_A07

Mist Engine (RW_50): HI_A18

Sheer Ice Torrent (RW_91): HI_A07 (Saint only), HI_B04 (Saint only)

Garbage Wastes (GW)

Threat - Garbage Wastes (TH_GW)

Garbage Worms (RW_52): GW_B01, GW_TOWER02, GW_TOWER03

Lack of Comfort (RW_39): GW_D02, GW_B09_PAST

Garbage City Shuffle (RW_37): GW_C02, GW_C04, GW_TOWER15

Albino (RW_43): GW_E01

Stone Heads (RW_19): GW_C03

Overcast (RW_79): GW_A25

Accidented Condition (RW_83): GW_E01 (Saint only)

Eyes of Iron (RW_90): GW_C03 (Saint only)

Shoreline (SL)

Threat - Shoreline (TH_SL)

BM_SL_SHORE: SL_B02, SL_D05, SL_F01

Lonesound (RW_46): SL_D06

New Terra (NA_21): SL_A06

The Captain (RW_18): SL_A05

Moondown (Theme II) (NA_11): SL_AI, SL_WALL06 (also called Digital Sundown)

Vast Unlife (RW_89): SL_D05 (Saint only), SL_F01 (Saint only), SL_TUNNELA (Saint only)

New Else VIII (NA_42): SL_WALL06 (ECHO) (Saint only)

Veiled Northstar (RW_93): SL_TUNNELA

Shaded Citadel (SH)

Black Moonlight (RW_26): SH_D01

Demonic Riser (NA_25): SH_B17

Dripping Time (NA_17): SH_A05

Lantern Mice (RW_58): SH_C10, SH_A21

Floes (RW_40): SH_E05

ELSE III (NA_34): SH_A08 (ECHO)

Dark Sus (NA_08): SH_B05, SH_A24

BM_SH_CRYPTS: SH_B12 (Vanilla, patched out)

The Exterior (UW)

White Lizard (RW_55): UW_D02

Underhang (BM_UW_UNDERHANG): UW_C03

BM_UW_WALL: UW_D07

ELSE IV (NA_35): UW_A14 (ECHO)

Stargazer (NA_28): UW_H01

Pictures of the Past (RW_Intro_Theme): UW_J01 (Inv only)

Passages: UW_A14 (Inv only)

Five Pebbles (SS)

Threat - Superstructure (TH_SS)

BM_DS_GATE: SS_B01

Interest Pad (NA_09): SS_A09

Drastic FM (NA_16): SS_F03

Energy Circuit (NA_26): SS_D03

Random Gods (Theme III) (NA_41): SS_E07, SS_L01, SS_E06

Chimney Canopy (CC)

Threat - Chimney Canopy (TH_CC)

Threat - Chimney Canopy (The Gutter variant)

BM_CC_CANOPY: CC_A02, CC_H01 (Saint only)

Wind Chimes (RW_48): CC_B06

Sky Sprite (RW_55): CC_C11

ELSE I (NA_32): CC_C12 (ECHO), SB_A14

Cracked Earth (NA_39): CC_OUTPUT

Sky Islands (SI)

Threat - Sky Islands (TH_SI)

Lovely Arps (RW_29): SI_D03

Kayava (RW_42): SI_D01

Speaking Systems (NA_23): SI_C06

Crystalline (NA_20): SI_B11, SI_D05

ELSE VII (NA_38): SI_B11 (ECHO)

Silicon (NA_04): SI_B12

BM_SI_STRUT: SI_B13, SI_F01

Chillblain Grace (RW_84): SI_C02 (Saint only)

Farm Arrays (LF)

Threat - Farm Arrays (TH_LF)

All Thats Left (RW_14): LF_A14

ELSE V (NA_36): LF_B01 (ECHO)

Distance (NA_30): LF_D01

Nest in Metal (RW_49): LF_A01

Maze of Soil (RW_47): LF_D08

Raindeer Ride (RW_54): LF_H01

Emotion Thread (NA_24): LF_J01

Subterranean (SB)

Ferrous Forest (RW_28): SB_G02, SB_G03

Leviathan Cave (RW_53): SB_J02

Grumblebum (RW_41): SB_A03, SB_H02

Deep Energy (RW_45): SB_F03

ELSE II (NA_33): SB_A10 (ECHO)

Silent Construct (NA_27): SB_D04, SB_F02, SB_I01, SB_B04, SB_E07

Gold Swim (VS_A_GOLD_SWIM): Upper void sea

Big Open (VS_B_BIG_OPEN): Central void sea

Worm Inferno (VS_C_WORM_INFERNO): Central void sea

The Ride (VS_D_THE_RIDE): Void sea

Deep Light (Theme IV): Bottom void sea (Technically combination of Deep Ghosts/VS_E_DEEP_GHOSTS, The Core/VS_F_THE_CORE and Outro Theme/RW_Outro_Theme)

BM_SB_FILTER: SB_J03

BM_SB_SUBWAY: SB_C10, SB_F01, SB_H03

Orange Lizard (RW_62): SB_TESTB, SB_TESTC

BM_SH_CRYPTS: SB_D04

Else I (NA_32): SB_A14, SB_D03

ELSE VII (NA_38): SB_D01

Pipeyard (VS)

Rooftops (RW_7): VS_A01

Rain (RW_61): VS_B02, VS_B10, VS_C13

Veiled Northstar (RW_93): VS_A09

Fragments (RW_96): VS_F01

Threat - Pipe Yard (TH_VS)

Metropolis (LC)

GREY CLOUD (RW_32): LC_GIRDERWALK

ELSE VI (NA_37): LC_highestpoint (ECHO)

Dustcloud (NA_02): LC_TEMPLEENTRANCE

Phasing (NA_06): LC_C08

Lost City (RW_59): LC_ENTRANCEZONE

Threat - Metropolis (Day) (TH_LC)

Threat - Metropolis (Night)

Train Tunnels (RW_27): Can play when cycle ends

Outer Expanse (OE)

Sparkles (NA_05): OE_RAIL01, OE_TOWER09

Reminiscence (NA_11): OE_TREETOP

Bloom (RW_60): OE_JUNGLE05

Wandering Cut (RW_63): OE_RAIL02

Daze (RW_64): OE_RUIN14

Ancient (RW_69): OE_RUIN02

Open Skies (RW_97): OE_RUINBACKHALL

Threat - Outer Expanse (TH_OE)

Threat - Outer Expanse (Night)

Pictures of the Past (RW_Intro_Theme): OE_CAVE02

Waterfront Facility (LF)

The Coast (RW_16): LM_D06 (also called Shoreline)

BM_UW_UPPERWALL: LM_WALL01, LM_WALL02

Metal Canopy (RW_66): LM_TOWER09

Trusted Component (RW_82): LM_BRIDGE02, LM_BRIDGE03

Threat - Waterfront Facility (TH_LM)

BM_SL_SHORE: LM_D05, LM_F01

New Terra (NA_21): LM_A06

Veiled Northstar (RW_93): LM_TUNNELA

The Rot (RM)

Wormpad (NA_03): RM_GSB1

Qanda (NA_07): RM_D02

Sparkling Pendulum (RW_71): RM_B04

Flicker (RW_73): RM_I03

Not Your Rain (RW_76): RM_ROT01

Threat - Superstructure (TH_SS)

BM_DS_GATE: RM_B01

Interest Pad (NA_09): RM_A09

Energy Circuit (NA_26): RM_D03

Looks to the Moon (DM)

Glass Arcs (NA_18): DM_I02, DM_I05

Flutter (NA_29): DM_WALL06

Scapeless Doubt (RW_70): DM_LEG01

Obverse of the Old Wind (RW_78): DM_ROOF01

Reflection of the Moon (RW_95): DM_ROOF04, DM_MOONCHAMBER

Threat - Looks to the Moon (TH_DM)

Underhang (BM_UW_Underhang): DM_LEG07, DM_U09

Silicon (NA_04): DM_VISTA

Silent Construct (NA_27): DM_CROSSOVER02

Random Fate (RW_67) DM_I11

Undergrowth (UG)

Past Echoes (NA_06): UG_C02 (ECHO)

They Say (NA_22): UG_B02, UG_B10

Breathing Hyometer (RW_81): UG_GUTTER01

Weathered Steps (RW_94): UG_A05

Swaying Fronds (RW_51): UG_A26

Submerged Superstructure (MS)

Garden (RW_65): MS_BITTERENTRANCE, MS_SPLITSEWERS

Random Fate (RW_67): MS_LAB14

Aquaphobia (RW_74): MS_I06

Onto A New Dawn (RW_75): MS_FARSIDE

Fragile (RW_77): MS_BITTERAERIE2

Ascent (RW_85): MS_ENTRANCE

Flux (RW_88): MS_I02, MS_I03

ELSE IV (NA_35): MS_COMMS (ECHO, Saint only)

Silent Construct (CL)

Fading Light (RW_87): CL_D01

Demonic Riser (NA_25): CL_B17

Dark Sus (NA_08): CL_A24

ELSE IV (NA_35): CL_D05

Rubicon (HR)

Pulse (NA_31): Saint ending

The Cycle (RW_86): HR_M01, HR_M02, HR_M03, HR_M04, HR_FINAL

ELSE II (NA_33): HR_C01

[adascore]

The Missed Swap

pairing: alexia putellas x england!reader

warnings: swearing. reader receives a push. jealous alexia. mentions of alexia doing her acl.

author's note: finally finished this!! love writing about the complexity of their rivalry!

part 1 | masterlist

•••••••

The press conference room was filled with all sorts of journalists; Spaniards, Brits or just avid women's football researchers who were hyped about the upcoming friendly between Spain and England.

Between Y/N and Alexia rested only a few metres, their respective coaches accompanying them. Sarina and her captain sat composed waiting on the start of the conference, while their opposition exuded a calm confidence that would have intimidated any other pair.

Despite the heartwarming interaction at the Champions League final a month prior, there was no evidence of any kind of friendship as the two star players avoided each other's eyes, and any traces of the camaraderie from Turin seemed distant.

In an attempt to break the ice, Alexia discreetly sought a glance from the striker, hoping for a sign of recognition or acknowledgment, but the Spaniard was only met with a polite smile from Sarina.

The midfielder felt almost stupid for having looked forward to this, seeing her again after Turin. She'd hoped it was the start of a change, one where they could talk to one another without the forced formalities and could even become friends.

Yeah, she felt incredibly stupid.

The moderator signaled the start of the pre-match press conference. ''Good morning, everyone. Welcome to the press conference with Spain coach and captain Jorge Vilda and Alexia Putellas, as well as England coach and captain Sarina Wiegman and Y/N Y/L. We are going to start with the questions.''

The first few minutes were standard; asking about the expectations, main thoughts about the opposition, how they were all feeling about the upcoming European Championships, etc. The four of them answered all the questions directly and in a diplomatic manner.

However, it was a certain Spanish journalist that decided to shake things up. ''Hello, everyone. This question is for Alexia,'' the man spoke up in his native language, ''after the Champions League final, we witnessed, what seemed, an emotional interaction between you and Y/N. Would you say your relationship has changed since then? Or was it just a moment for the camera's? Will it have any impact on the game tomorrow?''

Alexia maintained her diplomatic tone, carefully choosing her words. ''Good morning. The final in Turin was an intense and emotional moment for both of our teams. With Y/N, we share respect for football, the game. Now, we are here to represent our countries in preparation for the Euro's.''

The reporter, undeterred by the captain's media-trained answer, pressed with a sly smile. ''But is there a good relationship between you two? There seemed to have been a connection of some sorts.''

''I understand there might be interest in our personal relationship, but I want to focus on our match tomorrow.'' She answered with poise, not entertaining the controversy he was trying to stir.

Y/N couldn't help but smirk at the journalist's persistence. Despite not understand their language, it was clear Alexia hadn't given him the satisfaction of actually answering his question.

The moderator urged for someone else to take the microphone, quickly wanting to move on before it became more of an issue. The word was then given to an English journalist.

''Hi, for the Daily Mail,'' he greeted them, Y/N having to fight the urge to roll her eyes at the mention of for which news outlet he worked for, ''for Y/N, uh, many of the players of the Spanish team play for Barcelona, and we all saw what happened last month. Do you think their defeat had something to do with your presence or maybe that the rivalry between you and Alexia Putellas was a factor in that?''

Y/N raised an eyebrow at the loaded question, but remained composed. ''Every match is different, and Spain is also different from Barcelona. Football is a team sport, and the outcome of a match depends on a lot of different factors. I don't think it is fair to attribute the result of a match to the presence or absence of a single player. I mean- I'm a footballer, not a witch.'' She concluded her answer with a lighthearted joke, relieved it caused some of the tension in the room to disappear.

''A question for both the coaches,'' the conference moved on again, ''how do each of you feel about another meeting between Alexia and Y/N? They're not just the star players of your teams, but also of women's football. Does it add any excitement or pressure to the match?''

Sarina responded first. ''Well, every match is a great opportunity to have good battles, as a group or as individuals. They're both exceptional talents so it will be a treat to watch for all of us, but the main focus is on the team performance and preparing for the European Championship next month.''

Jorge nodded, seemingly agreeing. ''Individual matchups add excitement, but the success of the team remains a priority.''

The press conference concluded not much later, the four of them alleviated they could get up and leave.

As they exited, Y/N and Alexia found themselves walking side by side, albeit a bit awkwardly. The corridor felt like a neutral ground, free from the scrutiny of the media.

“They're always searching for stuff…” Y/N broke the silence, still somewhat frustrated over the questions about their personal relationship.

Alexia nodded in agreement, her expression reflecting a similar feeling. “Yeah, so stupid.”

The quietness returned, both women unsure of what to say.

“Congrats on winning the league again, by the way.” Alexia rambled, the words leaving her mouth like a speed train.

Y/N smiled, appreciating the attempt to continue the conversation. “Thanks, you too.”

“Thank you.” The midfielder hesitated, a subtle struggle visible on her face.

Alexia sighed, searching for the right words. “Look, about Turin…”

Y/N raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “What about it?”

There was a pause as they walked, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air.

“I wanted to talk more, you know, after the match.” She admitted, a hint of vulnerability in her voice.

The England captain slowly nodded. “Ah, yeah, it looked like that, but then your coach whisked you away.” She awkwardly laughed.

“I don't know why he did that, it probably felt as weird to me as it did to you,” Alexia responded, “but I just wanted to thank you for your words, cause… you didn't have to come up to me, but you did.”

Y/N smiled warmly. “You really don't have to thank me. I know what it's like as captain, it's tough. It just felt like the right thing to do.”

“What you said about our growth and stuff, it means more than you think, you know, to the team.” The Spaniard quickly added the last bit, not wanting to get too sentimental.

“I'm glad if it brought a bit of comfort to your team. I meant it, you guys have really made a great transition.” Y/N wasn't by any means a great loser, but she would always give a team credit when it's due.

Alexia nodded appreciatively. “Thanks. I'm, uh, excited about tomorrow.”

The England captain grinned, feeling a subtle shift in their dynamic. "Yeah, it should be a good game.''

“Yes, it should. Hopefully it goes my way this time.''

Y/N loudly laughed at Alexia's words, taking the Barcelona midfielder by surprise. ''I didn't know you were this funny, Putellas.''

Alexia chuckled, a genuine smile breaking through.

“Y/N…”

The striker turned back to where the call of her name came from, and she was met with the hesitant face of Sarina.

She gave her coach a hand motion that said ‘I'm right there, let me wrap this up'. The Dutchwoman seemed to understand as she gave both players a nod.

“Uh, I gotta go- team stuff, but I'll see you tomorrow then.” Y/N bid goodbye.

“Yeah, tomorrow.”

Alexia watched her rival leave, eyes roaming over her athletic figure that was adorned in an England training kit that seemed to highlight every curve of her body.

The Spaniard had to shake herself out of her daze, not knowing what came over her.

As she turned to head in the opposite direction, she refocused herself on the game ahead and realized she had to put aside the emotions and complexities that seemed to find her every time she encountered the England captain.

It had already cost her one match, she wouldn't dare let it happen again.

The score wasn't reflective of how exciting and high-pressing the match actually was. Neither side had scored, but there had been plenty of great chances.

It also included a lot of fouls, specifically on the English captain by the Spanish players.

Y/N found herself on the receiving end of another rough challenge, this time from Carmona.

As the referee's whistle pierced through the stadium, signaling the foul, Y/N couldn't contain her frustration. “Fucking cunt.” She muttered under her breath.

The Real Madrid defender, catching wind of the insult, didn't take it lightly. “What did you say?” She exclaimed, responding with a push.

The striker didn't budge, simply giving her an unimpressed look. “I said you're a fucking cunt.” She repeated her words, not one bit intimidated.

The tension escalated, and the players from both teams rushed to get involved.

More of the Spanish players stepped in to defend the young player, throwing insults at Y/N. While the England players tried to form a protective barrier around their captain, not shy of vulgar words themselves.

Amidst the chaos, Alexia took a step forward, signaling to her Spanish teammates to calm down. “That's enough.” She told Olga, placing herself in-between the Brit and the defender.

“Let it go, it's just a friendly. No need for this.” Her authoritative tone resonated, and she managed to diffuse the situation.

Olga, still visibly upset, reluctantly stepped back, but mumbled some more Spanish swear words that had Patri giving her a light push.

Alexia, with an apologetic look, turned around to address Y/N, but Rachel intervened, pulling her captain away from the aftermath of the chaos.

“We need to take more advantage of the counterattacks, we're just giving everything away.” Rachel immediately focused back on the game, whispering her thoughts.

Y/N caught Alexia's intention, but let it go, redirecting her attention to the unfolding match.

In a retaliatory turn of events, Georgia committed a foul against Alexia.

The England captain didn't want it to escalate the way it had only a few minutes before, so she quickly addressed her teammate.

“G, tone it down!”

The midfielder gave a thumbs up and an apology to Alexia, which the Spaniard accepted.

The final whistle blew, ending the intense encounter with a draw. Both sides were disappointed not to walk away with the win, but the result felt right to the match.

As the players exchanged handshakes and words of sportsmanship, Y/N and Alexia found themselves facing each other once more.

“Good match.” They chorused, shaking hands with a content smile.

“I guess it didn't really go your way this time.” Y/N chuckled, recalling Alexia's words from the day before.

The midfielder laughed, relieved there was no tension between them anymore. “It was tough today. Great defense from your team.”

“Thanks, your attacks warranted it.” The Brit playfully rolled her eyes.

They walked together towards the officials to shake their hands, making small talk about the match.

“Hey… your shirt…” Y/N switched topics, pointing at the red Spain jersey.

“Yeah?” Alexia's eyes widened slightly, almost beaming at the fact that the striker would want to swap shirts.

“My teammate, Katie, she's quite the fan and would you do me a favor and like, ask her to exchange kits? She didn't get to play today and it would really cheer her up.”

A tinge of red colored Alexia's cheeks as she realized her misinterpretation. “Oh, uh, yeah, no problem.”

“You don't have to, if you want to keep the shirt.” Y/N noticed the slight expression change in the opposition's face.

“No, I really want to. I'll ask her, no big deal.” Alexia quickly brushed it off, embarrassed by her own thoughts.

“Thank you so much, it will mean a lot to her. Usually she's a chatterbox, but…” The striker trailed off.

Alexia nodded, finding it a sweet gesture of the rivaling captain.

“Uh, actually, could you do the same? One of the younger girls, Claudia, really looks up to you and would appreciate the shirt.”

The midfielder saw her younger teammate lingering not too far from where they were standing, not subtle in observing the captains' interaction.

“She's the small girl that's standing behind you.” Alexia smiled, laughing as Pina pretended to look at the crowd once she caught her Barcelona teammate watching her.

Y/N followed her eyes and gave Claudia a wave, which the girl shyly returned.

“I‘ll ask as well,” she softly responded, “uh, so I'll see you in the Euro's final then?” Y/N grinned, teasingly.

“Yeah, I'll see you there.”

As they parted ways, each player headed toward the teammate they had promised to exchange shirts with.

“ALEXIA PUTELLAS TEARS ACL BEFORE WOMEN's EUROS”

Y/N read the headline in utter shock, in disbelief that the Spain captain had tore her ACL in training, the day before the start of the tournament.

“You heard about Putellas?” Jill interrupted her thoughts, joining her in the lounge that had been set up for the team.

“Yeah.” She nodded, closing her phone.

“I feel for her.” The Manchester City player sympathized.

Y/N remained quiet, wondering how Alexia was doing- mentally then.

“Are you two friends?” Jill inquired, confused by the captain's silence.

She looked at her older friend, lifting her shoulders. “I don't know. We're not enemies.”

Intrigued by the cryptic response, Jill couldn't resist probing further. “You guys were laughing with each other after the Spain match.”

“Yeah, and?” Y/N chuckled, uncomfortable by her teammate's stare.

The midfielder raised an eyebrow. “What's the story?”

“There is no story, we just had a laugh.” The captain retorted.

“You used to shut down like a toddler whenever someone mentioned her, and now you're acting like buddies together. What happened, Cap?” Jill was properly confused on what the status was with the two football stars.

“I won, that's what happened.” Y/N opened her phone again, hoping her response was enough to satisfy Jill's curiosity.

The older one frowned. “Won what?”

“I won the final. Champions League. She lost.” It was a vague clarification, they both knew that.

“And that makes you friends?”

Y/N sighed, sensing the skepticism in Jill's tone. “You don't get it, Scott- be glad that you don't.”

“So what if you hadn't won?” Jill asked, a subtle gravity behind her question.

Y/N took a moment before responding, contemplating the hypothetical scenario. “There was no way I would have lost that final. Not in a hundred years.”

“So humble you are.” Her teammate sarcastically commented.

The captain dramatically winked at the older woman.

“But seriously… what is that?” Jill made a gesture with her hand, as if she was physically pointing between her and Alexia.

“Don't know, I guess she isn't as pretentious as I thought she was.” Y/N answered, recognizing the wrong perspective she had of the Spaniard.

Jill raised an eyebrow. “She probably thought the same of you.” She laughed.

“I guess so.” The younger player admitted. “Should I send her a message? Like wishing her well or something?” Y/N asked Jill, holding up her phone.

She looked at the striker's phone, considering the suggestion. “Why not? I can't think of one player who wouldn't be happy to get a message from you.”

“Alright…” Y/N mumbled, opening Instagram and pulling up Alexia's account.

Jill glanced at her screen. “You don't even follow her!” She scoffed.

The captain looked from her screen to Jill, and back to her screen. “Yeah, and?”

“Follow her, and send the message.” The midfielder instructed.

“Are you my boss?” Y/N playfully rolled her eyes, but followed up on Jill's instruction.

| Y/N.Y/L: hey, heard about the injury. hope you're doing alright, and know that a lot of people are behind you. take care ❤️

“Good enough for Miss Scott?” Y/N asked her teammate.

Jill nodded, approvingly. “Look at you, extending an olive branch.'' She teased.

''An olive branch? We never had any problems.'' The younger one frowned, as an olive branch usually meant for there to have been a conflict.

The Manchester City player chuckled at her confusion. ''Well, it's a nice gesture. I'm sure she'll appreciate it.''

Y/N shrugged. ''It's a serious injury, she's at least out for like 8-9 months. I can't imagine her not playing with Spain and Barca.''

Jill nodded, a similar sympathetic look on her face. ''Yeah, I just hope she comes out better of it.''

''She will.'' Y/N said, voice full of confidence.

It was still Alexia. La Reina. She would not be taken down easily.

Meanwhile, freshly arrived in her home country, Alexia finally unlocked her phone after a long and hectic day. A certain notification stood out, it couldn't be could it?

She could feel her heartbeat as she saw the message from Y/N. She hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether to open it immediately or not. Alexia edged herself, answering everyone else's messages before getting to the Brit's.

After an eternity, she decided to open and read it as her curiosity got the better of her.

Alexia's eyes softened as she read over the words. Y/N's DM was not something that anyone hadn't told her before, but her rivaling captain had taken the time to wish her well and that meant more than Alexia was ready to admit yet.

| alexiaputellas: hey, I am back home now so doing better! thank you for your words and good luck at the tournament! ❤️

The captain stared at her phone, pondering on how their relationship had changed so much- at least to the point where they were sending messages to one another. Yet, here they were, exchanging words beyond the constraints of the game.

She couldn't deny the intrigue she had towards the striker. The phenomenon that was the England captain was unexplored territory for the Spaniard. Everything she had though before about Y/N all seemed to fade as she got more and more glimpses of who her rival actually was.

As Alexia wondered about the new dynamics, her train of thought was interrupted by a new notification.

| Y/N.Y/L: that's great to her! too bad we can't meet in the final now

The Catalan smiled, her fingers swiftly moving over the screen to compose a reply.

| alexiaputellas: yeah, maybe another time!

| alexiaputellas: if you do play against Spain, I don't want you to win, though 😉

| Y/N.Y/L: ooooohhhh, im gonna play extra harder against them now :)

| Y/N.Y/L: are you coming back to England to watch them?

| alexiaputellas: yes, after I've had my surgery!

| Y/N.Y/L: good luck with that, btw

| alexiaputellas: thank you ☺

The messages continued on for a while, mostly staying on the joking side. Alexia appreciated the unexpected distraction Y/N provided for her, her torn knee having become forgotten for just a few moments.

Their next meeting came 2 weeks later as England took on Spain in the quarterfinals. Y/N was wary about meeting their team still quite early on in the tournament, but it would be a great test for them, and not having Alexia on the pitch could only be a benefit to the English- even if it happened due to unfortunate circumstances.

The match was intense, reminiscent of their friendly match the month before. In the 54th minute, England fell behind, conceding a goal. The pressure only intensified as the entire team and stadium looked at their captain, in serious need of a solution.

Y/N screamed more motivation at her teammates, applauding and praising every pass and chance they made. Fortunately, Ella managed to equalize, and Georgia had everyone going crazy as she put one extra in the net during extra time.

The striker jumped into the young midfielder's arms, yelling inaudible things as they celebrated her world of a goal. ''You're a legend, G!''

''Come on, girls! We can do this!'' Millie exclaimed, clapping her hands to hype everyone up to keep their lead.

''Keep pressuring them! It's in our hands now! You're doing amazing!'' Y/N joined in, her infectious energy working on the team as they all nodded and got back to their spots on the pitch.

The whistle blew and the entire squad could feel a huge weight leaving their shoulders, relieved this tribulation was over and they could focus on the semifinals.

In the post-match rituals, Y/N glanced towards the Spanish team. A bittersweet realization struck her- the victory was nice, but a part of the competition was missing without the direct face-off with the Spanish captain. She almost forgot her colleague would not be on the pitch to shake hands with, or to analyze the match with.

She tried finding her in the crowd, but Alexia must have already made an escape to the locker rooms. The Brit didn't blame her, she probably didn't want to stick around to see a rival team celebrating knocking their team out. 

Half an hour later, Alexia watched Irene stroll into their changing rooms- one of the last players to arrive, holding a white England shirt in her hand.

Her curiosity got the better of her and she approached her fellow captain on the other side of the room. ''Irene, who did you swap with?'' She asked.

Irene grinned, unfolding the jersey as Y/N's name and number was displayed in front of Alexia's eyes. ''Our favorite girl,'' Irene sarcastically said, the England player had caused a lot of damage to both of the women, on club and international level, ''she asked me. You just can't say no to that face, can you?'' The defender chuckled.

A subtle flicker of disbelief crossed Alexia's features as Irene continued chatting about the exchange. The realization that Y/N had chosen to swap shirts with the older woman stung a bit, sparking an unfamiliar emotion in her. Perhaps, it was a fleeting sense of envy for the seeming connection that her and Irene had. The Spaniard had played against the Lyon striker numerous times during her stint at PSG.

Despite her attempt to keep a neutral expression, Alexia's reaction was far from enthusiastic. ''Oh, that's great.'' She replied, her tone a bit more dejected than she had wanted.

Irene noticed the shift in her teammate's demeanor. She raised an eyebrow and shot a look at Alexia. ''Something on your mind?'' She questioned, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she sensed there might be more to the midfielder's reaction.

''No, nothing at all. Just… surprised.'' Alexia forced a smile, attempting to downplay the jealousy. However, her eyes betrayed her.

The defender raised an eyebrow, her grin only widening. ''Surprised? Why? We've known each other for a long time, played against her a bunch of times.'' She responded casually, enjoying whatever was happening at the moment.

''Yeah, true. Well, good for you.'' Alexia nodded, trying to mask her unease with a nonchalant tone.

The Barcelona player chuckled, starting to recognize what this might be about. She held up the England shirt, a teasing glint in her own eyes. ''You want it? I still have a Lyon one from a few years ago.'' She playfully extended the jersey towards Alexia.

The midfielder shook her head, again forcing herself to laugh. ''No, no. It's all yours, don't even want it, anyway.'' Alexia waved off the offered shirt with a dismissive gesture.

''Alright, whatever suits you.'' Irene smiled, placing the shirt in her own bag.

She left the blonde alone, walking back to where she had settled before the defender had waltzed into the room.

Alone with her thoughts, Alexia couldn’t shake off the uncomfortable feeling. Watching Irene prance around with Y/N’s shirt left her with a strange mix of emotions that she hadn’t dealt with before, or at least not when it pertained to her teammate and rival.

What puzzled her even more was why Y/N had never asked her for a shirt swap. She wondered if their rivalry and everyone’s comparisons of the two, overshadowed the possibility of something more- whatever that something more was. Did the England captain only see their interactions through the lens of competition?

Alexia grappled with a simple yet difficult question: did she want Y/N to ask for a shirt swap or did it bother her more that she didn’t seem to be considered for one?

[revehae]

dear hyuckie

pairing ↠ athlete!haechan x (f) reader

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, noncon, mc is a terrible person, stalking, unprotected sex, baby trapping

summary ↠ for the longest time, you've been obsessed with haechan and wanted him to yourself, but he hardly notices you. to grab his attention, you start sending him anonymous love letters.

wc ↠ 6.0k

a/n ↠ part 5/5 of the college-capades series!

don’t like it, don’t read.

so fucking annoying, you hissed to yourself, poking around the corner. 

your eyes were fixed on the boy’s locker room door that was, to your chagrin, being guarded by the basketball team captain.

who you never liked. jung jaehyun, you thought irritably. he was undeniably good-looking, you’d give him that, but he was arrogant. haechan would make a much finer captain. where jaehyun was a cocky asshole, haechan was none too prideful but enthusiastic nonetheless.

you’d heard haechan giving pre-game pep talks to his team and motivating them not to feel guilty on the occasions where they lost. he was a natural at lifting other’s spirits. obviously, he was the driving force in the team. 

not jung jaehyun, who leaned on the door, laughing at texts on his phone most likely from a bunch of girls dying to do him. though you most definitely weren’t one of them, there were many. 

and you happened to know one of them.

“thought i’d find you here,” you said, pretending to only now be walking up the path. given that his eyes were locked on his phone screen, jaehyun was none the wiser. 

jaehyun flitted his gaze to you. “how’d you figure that?”

“oh, you know. my hot guy radar was going off,” you flirted, your own words like poison on your tongue. but hopefully worth it.

that had his attention. jaehyun chuckled, pocketing his phone, then said, “i thought you said i wasn’t your type?”

“you’re not,” you replied flatly. “but i know somebody who’s a little more open-minded.”

jaehyun’s brows furrowed. the implications behind that weren’t lost on him. “are you joking?”

“nope,” you chirped, though you were absolutely lying. “rosé wants you to come over. she’s too chicken to tell you herself and i was nearby, so she sent me instead.”

rosé and jaehyun had raging heart eyes (and boners) for each other since the day they locked eyes. though rosé, your dear friend and the only reason you knew jaehyun, was scared that he was too much of a fuckboy. their interactions never amounted to anything more than flirty exchanges after a game, but they definitely wanted each other.

maybe it was a slight fib. rosé had said nothing of the sort, but it was the best lie you could come up with and you desperately needed something impactful enough to get jaehyun away from that door. your best friend would be thanking you later.

“shit, okay. what’s her address?”

maybe it wasn’t the best move to give a boy both of you barely knew your best friend’s address, even if she had the hots for him, but you were in too much of a hurry to give a damn about ethical decision-making. 

“and jaehyun,” you called out after him when he started to leave. 

jaehyun turned his head. “yeah?”

donning the role of a helpful acquaintance, in spite of how much you loathed this guy, you advised sweetly, “maybe stop to the store first. get her some flowers or a box of chocolates. she likes those. i know you probably don’t leave the house without condoms.”

jaehyun’s shoulders shook while he laughed and threw his hands up. “you got me. thanks for looking out.”

your answer was kind, though in reality, the only reason you gave him helpful advice was because you wanted to slow him down just in case rosé wasn’t home. you quickly sent her a vague text and unapologetically mentioned that you would make it up to her later.

jesus, the things i do for you, lee donghyuck, you thought dreamily. if only he knew how much you liked him.

for lack of a better word, of course. to be frank, you were enamored with his whole being. just the thought of haechan had your legs quivering and your heart thumping against your chest. thoughts of him were all-consuming. you couldn’t eat sometimes without wondering if he had ate.

given that you were running out of time, you quickly slipped into the locker room, glancing around to make sure the coast was clear before you invaded. fortunately, with jaehyun set on getting laid, there was nobody else around. 

except for the love of your life.

you heard a shower running, just as you knew it would be. you happened to overhear haechan mentioning to a friend that he would be in the locker rooms for a moment to shower and figured it was your time to spy. your footsteps were quiet, gentle. half of the time, it didn’t bother you so bad that he wasn’t attracted to you. it was better that way.

after tiptoeing around, you reached his locker, shoving a letter inside the slit. although it would have been rational to leave then and there, you couldn’t shake the temptations brewing in your guts where you desperately needed him. he was naked, just in the shower room. and you wanted a sneak peak.

against your better judgment, you crept around the corner, poking your head out to see if he was exposed. there was a long column of showers and just your luck, the curtains of the seventh stall were drawn. guess he wasn’t very shy. you could see a sliver of haechan’s dampened skin, bits of his leg and shoulder.

you licked your lips at the mouth-watering thought you’d had. given the chance, you wouldn’t waste a second to get down on your knees for him and give him the best head of his life. your plans were nothing short of vile, but a part of you liked to assume all would be forgiven when he realized that you were made for each other. 

not if. when.

when the shower came to a dry stop, you snapped out of your thoughts and took it as a sign to get out unnoticed, slipping away like a thief in the night.

but the letter in haechan’s locker didn’t go unnoticed.

well, kind of. he thought it was a joke, but he read it nonetheless. it wasn’t that far-fetched to assume that one of the guys were probably pranking him. granted, none of them called him by the nickname hyuckie, but they sometimes called him hyuck.

naturally, haechan didn’t think much of it until the second letter appeared, and it was somewhat more descriptive.

dear hyuckie, why do you wither in the wind and come to life in the sun, the letter started. i always think it’s unfair that nobody can match your undeniable charm, let it be on a swabbed court or with a bewitched crowd. kidding. others should envy what is yours.

there was more, of course, but haechan didn’t get to read that far before the letter was rudely snatched out of his hands.

“what’s that?” jaemin asked, nosily pulling the letter out haechan’s hand. 

haechan groaned, “dude, give it back.”

jaemin instead backed off, just out of arm’s reach of haechan. “guys, you’ve gotta come read this shit,” he said in amusement. “‘dear hyuckie, why do you wither in the wind and come to life in the sun?’”

jaemin continued to read until the end, blocking haechan’s attempts to steal the letter back while somehow also keeping the high-pitched, mocking tone of a woman. not too much later, haechan gave up on keeping it to himself, accepting defeat. the letter droned on about his performances on the court, how you watched every game with your eyes fixed to only him. how you wanted to be there to kiss him during his triumphs, but hold him during his losses.

haechan was used to fangirls. he was one of the most prominent members of a prominent team at an equally prominent school, backed by deals and endorsements. needless to say, there were more than a lot of girls that felt the same as you.

it was his first time getting a letter addressed directly to his locker, however. uproar was what he was accustomed to. this was quieter, subtle. you didn’t want to blend in with everybody else, and yet, you chose to be unheard.

johnny nudged his side. “shit, hyuck. looks like you’ve got a secret admirer on your hands.”

jaehyun laughed. “wither in the wind, come to life in the sun. what does that even mean?”

“yeah, i’m sure you wouldn’t have the wits to know,” mark quipped.

jaehyun shot him a glare while everybody else laughed at jaehyun’s expense. except for haechan, who was irritated.

“i thought you guys sent this,” haechan mused. “you know, ‘cause of the hyuckie thing.”

jaemin placed a hand on his teammate’s shoulder and jeered, “hate to break it to you, man, but nobody in this room wants to suck your dick.”

“fuck off, man,” haechan said, shoving him off. “i meant i thought it was a prank the first time.”

johnny lifted a brow. “the first time? you mean you got one before this?”

plopping down on a bench, haechan bobbed his head. “yeah, the exact same way. same delivery, same salutation, same handwriting, different content,” he explained.

“you scared?” jaehyun asked, teasing. 

“i’m not scared, i’m just a little worried. i mean, nobody should be able to get inside the locker room,” haechan ranted. 

“thing’s old,” johnny retorted. “might fall apart if they don’t renovate this summer. relax, man. it’s just some chick that wants to bone you. you should be happy bitches are lining up for you.”

haechan heaved a breath and gave in, letting the guys convince him that he was being overdramatic. it wasn’t that haechan didn’t enjoy feeling wanted, that couldn’t have been any further from the truth, but there was something in his gut that told him that you weren’t like the others.

you were far more dangerous than he would ever know, until the moment when it was too late for him to be saved.

but days of letters became weeks and haechan was becoming increasingly more alarmed. the letters multiplied, the content intensifying. though he wanted to tell someone, maybe get somebody to check some security camera footage, he didn’t want to be called a wimp.

so he thugged it out.

you, on the other hand, were over the moon that he was finally paying attention to you - kind of. you were sick of just being another girl in the arena. the letters differentiated you from the others. and at one point, they weren’t just letters anymore. they were bralettes and panties sticky with your arousal, attached with letters of you describing intricately how you got yourself off to him.

never once did you touch yourself without thinking of haechan, of how badly you wanted to break him and ruin him for the next woman (not that there would be one. ultimately, you were going to make sure that there wouldn’t be). wincing your eyes closed, hands buried between your own legs, you pictured his moist, dampened face, sticky with sweat that chased down his backside.

you wanted to tire him, to test his limits. you stalked him more or less everyday, peeking behind the bleachers to watch him practice. you knew what he could take, how far he could be pushed and shoved before the force became entirely too brutal and knocked the wind out of him.

sometimes the thoughts of him became overbearing. you couldn’t sleep because of him, falling behind in your classes because you couldn’t think of any that didn’t concern him. too much time was invested on keeping an eye on him during practice and following him on his way home. just to make sure he was safe, of course.

not that he had anything to worry about, though that wasn’t your definition of keeping him safe. any girls that dared deter him, even breathe in his general direction, you perceived as threats that needed to be eliminated.

you just had to fall for a popular guy. he was well-liked for a reason, and it went beyond his undeniably good looks. the charisma he wielded in the palm of his hands, how he dominated the whole court. the golden player, you thought with whimsical hope, pining. it was the title he’d been dubbed for obvious reasons.

nevertheless, he would always be your hyuckie. more often than not, it didn’t always register within you quickly when those around you referred to him as haechan, because he was so much more than that to you. nobody would ever understand the life you’d already crafted together in your brain, revolving utterly around him. where he wanted you just as much as you wanted him.

nobody could tell you that he wasn’t reading your letters, even if you never saw it in real time to be certain. because when his eyes flitted around during practice as you discreetly kept yours fixed to his frame, when he glanced over his shoulder while he took the journey home, you knew it was because he was uneasy. almost as if he could feel you watching. 

haechan could feel you watching.

he couldn’t see you, he couldn’t be sure who exactly you were, but he knew you were there somewhere. it was a gut feeling that sickened him almost too frequently.

it started during practice, the final preparations for the night’s game. during said game that night, the wrenching in his gut only intensified. you were there, obviously, like you never failed to be. antsy, haechan struggled to keep himself together during the match, but nobody would’ve ever guessed from simply looking.

nobody except you. you’d learned to recognize him in the distraught that was natural around you, as if it was his body’s self-preservation instincts.

still, he talked to you for the first time that night. rosé evidently knew of your more than little crush on haechan, though she was none the wiser to how desperately you needed a fix. she thought it was an innocent fondness. your impromptu trick (unfortunately) thrusted rosé and jaehyun into a relationship, and when it became known to him that you had the hots for his teammate, he didn’t wait a second to introduce you to each other.

to your shock, it was a pleasantly good first encounter. haechan still felt the nerves, but reduced them to post-game jitters, something he made up solely to feel comfortable again.

it wasn’t like you were the secret admirer or stalker, or whatever weirdo that was obsessed with him. for lack of a better word, you were just so normal-looking.

you didn’t at all seem like how he imagined a debatably batshit stalker to be. haechan thought you were pretty and amusing, matched his personality like you’d met in a past life. haechan had seen you before, you were besties with one of the most popular girls on campus and his captain’s crush, but he never thought he would enjoy your company.

that was how it all began. you talked for weeks, not leaving without each other’s numbers. when he wasn’t looking, you pinched yourself over and over, wondering if you were dreaming. you knew that you would click. you knew that you were fated to be together. 

as annoying as it was to admit, you actually owed jaehyun. he’d done you a massive favor. though, when you remembered that you were the sole reason he was even dating rosé in the first place, you considered yourself even. nevermind that it was an inadvertent mistake.

you spent many nights on the phone with haechan. given that you’d commited yourself to learning everything there was to know about him already, you came prepared with more than a handful of facts, though you pretended not to know so that you could impress him. chess, not checkers, you thought smugly to yourself, noticing the envious glares of multiple girls when you walked hand in hand with haechan.

you were winning. and you couldn’t believe it. but just when you were starting to have a taste of sweet, sweet victory, your self-restraint crumbled.

you’d been waiting too long. something needed to be done to satiate all the carnal energies running rampant through your veins, and it was no secret what the cure was.

haechan could feel that borderline debilitating sensation stirring in his gut again. it was like a shiver chilling its way down his spine, an itch that he just couldn’t shake.

to make matters even stranger, he was alone in his apartment.

or so he thought. midnight loomed over the night sky, thick clouds draped over probably bright stars. they stared back at him, just outside his bedroom window that he’d forgotten to draw the curtains of.

haechan had that habit, you noticed. men typically didn’t have to worry about the same things that women did, locking their car doors at gas stations and looking over their shoulders when they walked alone at night. it was so naive of him to believe he would ever truly be safe.

then again, you were only as dangerous as he allowed you to be.

checking his phone, haechan noted that he missed a call from you, having fallen asleep nearly the second he stepped out of the shower. practice was long and rough; his muscles were sore. he had wanted nothing more than to collapse on the nearest flat surface.

for whatever reason, he dialed you back. he remembered you mentioning that you would be up all night, catching up on some classwork you never explained why you were behind on and he never asked, but he also felt safer when he heard your voice. the letters stopped shortly after he started talking to you and that idiotically wasn’t suspicious to him. he was making this all too easy.

your voice sounded a little surprised. “hello?”

“hey,” haechan said, voice raspy from drowsiness. “bad time?”

“no, never,” was what you said, because you were always down to talk, though needless to say, the call took you by surprise.

haechan thought nothing of it. he assumed you were working and didn’t expect a call this late. “sorry for missing your call. i passed out after i came back from practice.”

“it’s fine, hyuckie. i promise. i understand,” you crooned sweetly. you saw how hard he worked and you respected it.

“okay, cool,” haechan replied, heaving a breath of relief. then it hit him - that nickname and where he’d heard it before, and his heart stopped. “wait, what did you just call me?”

you swore under your breath, realizing that you’d officially blown your cover. you could have played it off, could have played dumb and innocently pretended not to know, but that shipped sailed the second haechan heard your cursing from his hallway.

haechan sat up, speaking your name. “why are you in my apartment?”

the call disconnected. haechan’s stomach was beset with unease, knots taut. somewhere entangled in the attraction to you was the inescapable feeling that you weren’t safe.

all haechan could hear for a moment was his own ragged breathing. there was no sign of you. no footsteps, no breathing. it would’ve been in his best interest to stand to his feet, or maybe just call the police, given that you’d somehow broken in. but maybe he underestimated just how threatening you were.

because when the doors suddenly burst open, there you stood, holding a gun in your hand.

“sit down,” you commanded when you noticed him abruptly stand. aiming the gun a little higher, you persisted, “i said, sit down!”

“okay, okay. i’m sitting,” haechan replied, dropping back against his sheets.

you took long, quick strides towards his bed, holding the weapon squarely at his brain while you emptied your pockets and cuffed him down. it was a graceless, clumsy exploit. for whatever reason, haechan watched you struggle, when it would’ve been his greatest opportunity to escape.

after a moment of struggling to cuff him with one hand to spare, the other too occupied with the gun directed towards his head, you leaned back to admire your handiwork. haechan didn’t even notice that you’d straddled him until you rocked a little, swallowing his apprehension with one gulp.

haechan released a shaky breath, calling out your name again. “what are you doing?”

“the obvious,” was all you said.

“it’s you.” haechan’s mind was ablaze with thought, remembering how you’d tortured him for all these weeks endlessly. “you’re the stalker.”

“i’m not just any old fucking stalker, hyuckie,” you hissed, bristling at that word. it distanced you from him. it belittled the connection sparked to life between the two of you. “i’m your lover. don’t you see?”

his lover of a long time. he never noticed you before, how you’d prance behind him in high school during your free time, surrendering your lunch time to watch him play around with his friends. how you always made sure there was a spare pencil on his desk in middle school, because he frequently got scolded for never remembering to bring one. 

you’d watched him turn into a beautiful young man over the years, but haechan never spared you a glance, not until you were forced to be slightly relevant in his life. you were sick and tired of being ignored. you were at the end of your tether, a lifetime of pining culminating in destruction. 

haechan’s head hung low, like he wasn’t even paying attention to you. it made your blood boil, rage and loathing seeping throbbing in your chest. “look at me!” you screamed. “why won’t you look at me?”

haechan, heart thumping violently, lifted his head to make eye contact with you. tears stung your eyes, reddening them. “you aren’t who i thought you were,” he whispered.

the audacity on this boy. “don’t you dare treat yourself like a fucking victim,” you snarled, seething. “this wasn’t a secret. not for us. i can tell from how you looked at me that deep down inside, you knew. our brains know the truth.”

haechan shook his head. “what are you talking about?”

“you could have easily snatched the gun out my hands and pushed me off. i’m not superwoman. but you didn’t, you didn’t do anything, because you knew what you wanted,” you responded, frantic, almost like you were deluding yourself.

but you weren’t - not this time. haechan sensed that something was off about you and still continued to talk to you. he watched you struggle, when it would’ve taken nothing for an athlete like him to throw you off, to overpower you and render you defenseless.

“i don’t…,” haechan trailed. 

“you do,” you sneered, vicious. “and you aren’t going to ruin our moment together just because you don’t want to admit it, hyuckie. you don’t know how long i’ve wanted this. how long i’ve worked to this.”

you threw the gun aside, because it was never loaded in the first place, and you couldn’t fathom ever hurting him. it was strictly to keep him pliant, to make sure that he didn’t ruin the moment. you’d been planning this for ages. you’d be damned if you let it deviate in any way from the plan etched into your brain.

shifting your attention to what you were really after, you allowed your hands to wander up his thighs, pulling at his boxers. haechan’s eyes widened with panic. “stop,” he told you, fretful.

what made the moment even more bizarre to haechan was that you merely giggled. “relax, hyuckie,” you crooned, at least in your head reassuring. “i’ll go slow, i promise. i really want to savor our first time forever. make it something we’ll never forget.”

haechan’s alarm only strengthened. 

when you grew tired of his frequent protests, you blew out an irritated breath and grabbed the ducktape that had fallen from your jacket pockets, dangling it in his face as you threatened, “keep bitching and i’ll have to shut you up. i don’t want that and i know you don’t want it either.”

haechan quieted, pinching his lips together. he was in no place to deny you.

you removed his underwear, revealing his soft cock, although that was an easy fix. gently gripping his cock in your palm, you began to fist him to life, a sensitive little sigh breaking out of him at the first touch of your supple hand.

the whiplash haechan was getting was jarring and he felt nothing short of conflicted. on the one hand, you were his daring stalker, the one sending him dubious letters alongside the inappropriate clothing and used sex items. he should’ve darted the second he had a chance. but on the other, he found himself genuinely starting to grow attached to you, and you seemingly knew what to do with your hands.

in a matter of moments, haechan was very much hard, and it was much simpler than you would’ve thought to get him up, all things considered. all it took was squeezing his balls a little.

you were eyeing him like a predator and it made haechan feel justifiably uncomfortable. many nights were spent with a thick toy stuffed between your legs in lieu of his stiff cock, your eyes fluttering closed, with you moaning his name as you imagined you were riding the soul out of him. the same toys you would send to him, showing him just how badly he’d ruined you.

none of it was in vain. you finally had the real deal right in front of you, cock as thick and delicious as you imagined it to be, and the sight was mouth-watering.

you grabbed haechan’s jaw, correcting his gaze, and said assertively, “eyes on me.”

it was very pleasing when he obeyed, keeping his eyes fixed to your frame as you undressed. underneath the thick jacket you’d worn to stuff all of your supplies, you were sporting nothing but a racy set of lingerie.

haechan visibly gulped and you giggled, never bothering to cloak yourself amusement. just like he couldn’t cloak his desire, no matter how much he balked. “do you like it, hyuckie?” you asked, cocking your head. “i wore it just for you.”

as of right now, it would’ve been in his best interest to tell you what you wanted to hear. that was what this was all about. you were claiming this moment as a rendezvous between lovers, even if haechan didn’t quite reciprocate your feelings, and you wanted him to feed into your delusions.

but it helped that you were stunning, and if you’d done this the normal way, haechan probably would’ve voluntarily slept with you. he mustered the courage to speak, “you’re gorgeous.”

“don’t flatter me,” you joked, glancing to the mattress as you giggled, playing coy. “well, if you like it so much, then i guess i’ll keep it on.”

like he was shy or something, haechan just nodded his head to show that he understood.

though it was you that had terrified him out of speaking in the first place, you prodded him on, asking, “do you want to touch me, hyuckie?”

“touch you how?” haechan knew the answer, it was obvious at this point, but he was reluctant. 

again, you giggled, twinkling with mischief. you freed one of his hands and grabbed it, slipping it right under your panties, and made a noise when you felt his warmth against your aroused, aching core. “see, i’m so wet for you,” you whispered, sticking his hand back out and bringing his fingers to his lip. “taste.”

it did haechan no good to refuse you of what you wanted, so he opened his mouth, sucking your arousal off of his own fingers. 

you watched him attentively. “do i taste good?”

when he nodded, the brightest smile slipped onto your lips. for the longest time, you’d imagined riding his face into oblivion, but that would have to be scheduled for another time. right now, you wanted to ride his cock.

without a second thought, you grabbed haechan’s cock in your hand, slipping your panties to the side just enough so that you could sink down on his size. you moaned immediately, and so did haechan, his lips parted.

something about his cock just scratched something in your brain. he was much warmer than the dildos you played make-believe with, and a little thicker, too. you took your sweet, precious time to sink down on him completely, going slow and steady because you wanted to linger in the heat of him.

haechan was wallowing in the kneading warmth of your tight pussy way too much to realize that you hadn’t even thought of a condom. all of the little things you brought for this sexcapade, from the duct tape to the gun, and not a single condom was in sight.

“you know, i’ve been saving myself for you,” you confessed, staring haechan plain in the eye. 

knowing just how committed you were to making a life with him through haechan for a loop. “you did?” he asked.

“why are you surprised? haven’t you been reading my letters?” you questioned, grinning. your heart was warm and there was nothing that could be done to undo your ecstasy. “i’ll never want anyone as much as i want you, hyuckie. there’s no point in other guys. i only see you.”

if this situation had unfolded any differently, your feelings and devotion would be something haechan was lucky enough to have, but he knew your true, reckless nature. it wasn’t romantic and it wasn’t beautiful, not like you thought it was inside of your head. it was creepy and it was off-putting, and you were a threat.

but you had been blind to reality for so long that you didn’t realize how unlawful your behavior really was, and if you did realize, you didn’t care. you were numbed by love, driven by fear of losing the love of your life to an undeserving whore.

leaning to grab the tiny little key perched on his nightstand, you decided haechan had earned to have his other hand uncuffed, though it was really because you wanted him to touch you. you grabbed his wrists, guiding his hands flat against your hips, and told him to keep them there.

even though haechan wanted to be terrified, and part of him was exactly that, he couldn’t deny that he was enamored with how your pussy squeezed him for dear life. you heard the little noises of his that filled the air, the desperate, shaky moans, and knew what he wanted.

all you ever wanted was for the longing to be mutual and at least, how it occurred to you in your mind, you were finally starting to get what you always wanted. it drove you crazy, hearing those pitched whines of your name from his own mouth.

he’s going to be mine forever. i’ll make sure of it, came your raging thoughts, and though they warred endlessly over him, your whole being agreed on one thing.

lee donghyuck belonged to you, and anyone who dared try to steal what was rightfully yours would be eradicated by any means necessary.

“i love you so much,” you admitted, even though it wasn’t a secret. you had poured out your heart to him through your letters, but the heat and passion of the sex made you even more vulnerable. “it’s okay you don’t feel the same way right now, because you will. one day, you’ll love me so much, you won’t even think of another girl.”

haechan said nothing, maybe blocking out your crazy rambles, maybe it was all white noise to him. what you did know, though, was that he couldn’t escape the undiscriminating reins of temptation. you felt how he tried to match your thrusts, grinding his cock into your pussy from below. he might’ve hated how crazy you were, but he loved how you gushed around his cock.

through the misty haze of pleasure, everything else failed to matter. he could only think with his dick, about how you were pulsing around him, the sweet sounds your pussy made as it wrapped around him with all the desire a human could possess.

you could feel his quick, hot breaths, practically hear his heart begging for a break. his face was flushed, warm and red all over, his hair sticking to his face. sweaty moisture was inescapable, cooling down his back and up his face. your attention was fixed to his plush lips, though, wanting to kiss them desperately.

and that was exactly what you did. you anchored yourself on his shoulders, pressing your lips to haechan’s mouth as you continued to bounce on his perfect, thick cock, wanting to suck the very last breath out of him. haechan didn’t fight it, because in the heat of the moment, when tangled in the highs of sex, the windows of judgment were far too cloudy.

you hated that you could feel that fever in your gut already, though from the looks of it, you weren’t alone in your need for climax. haechan’s hips moved quicker, ravenous. he needed to cum like he needed air to breathe, and that was exactly what you wanted. if he depended on you, he would never need anybody else ever again.

whatever haechan wanted, you were willing to give to him, even if it meant going to the ends of the earth and back. because you needed him too, and you would never truly be happy until you had him right where you wanted him, wrapped around your finger.

his face tensed with pleasure, his hold on your hips getting increasingly tighter as he chased orgasm. he was practically doing all of the heavy-lifting for you, a slave to his temptations, just like every other man you’d ever met. i know all of your strengths, hyuckie, you crooned in your head. but i know all of your shortcomings, too. they’re what make you so human.

“fuck,” haechan whined, defeat heavy on his face. “i’m so close, fuck. i’m gonna cum.”

i know you are. you reached for his hand, begging, “cum with me, hyuckie. please. please, please, please.”

haechan slipped his fingers through yours, overcome by the warmth stretching through his body and tensing his muscles. he couldn’t think properly, not through the blinding mist of satisfaction.

and the two of you came just like that, hand in hand, moving your hips in a true, desperate sync that only lovers would ever know. you whined that name while haechan cried out yours, neither of you stopping in your tracks until the fog passed. haechan’s warm, plentiful cum filled your cunt, your spasming pussy milking him for every bit.

you couldn’t think of a time where you’d been more thrilled. you’d just lost your virginity to the only man you’d ever loved, and the only man you would ever love, and it was like heaven. you were in love with that gone fucking stare in his eyes, no thought or soul behind them.

you grinned with contentment. you did that. you broke that out of him. 

even after the high started to fade, you didn’t want to move off of his softening cock, keeping all of his cum buried there for a minute. you gazed to haechan, a pleading gleam in your stare as you whispered, “i don’t want you to leave me.”

haechan blinked, starting to sober. all his apprehensions came back the second he realized what he’d done. he said your name and all, attempting to let you down gently, “listen, you’re, uh… great and all. this was great. but...”

you faked a pout, because you weren’t completely an idiot. you saw this coming. even giving haechan the best sex of his life wouldn’t make him fall in love for you. you cut him off, “are you really going to abandon your own baby, hyuckie? even if you do, it’s okay, because i’ll always carry a piece of you… inside me.”

there was a smug, sly smile on your lips. not even the pleasure of the sex couldn’t rival the satisfaction of watching the realization dawn on his face.

oh, hyuckie, you sighed to yourself. you’re a fool if you thought you were getting rid of me that easily.

[roseykat]

KINKTOBER DAY 1

Title: Same coin, different faces

PAIRING: Bang Chan x Reader

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work and page whatsoever.

SUMMARY: Despite not being together with Chan anymore, you somehow end up in the back of his car...fogging up the windows.

TAGS: pre-established breakup trope, swearing, a dash of angst but also a hint of resolve, mentions of alcohol (neither the reader nor Chan is drunk), a bit of manhandling by both parties, oral sex (reader receiving), car sex, unprotected, sort of hate/rough sex. 

MASTERLIST - KINKTOBER LIST

(This is currently unedited but I will be proofing it later on)

It wasn’t as fun as you had hoped it to be, a party that is. Given it was the end of the semester, people usually prefer to go all out - which they did, but you weren’t feeling it. There were far too many people off of their faces, including your entire friend group that you showed up with.

Two of them were playing drinking games in the kitchen, one of them - Minho, who had completely disappeared for the past few hours, and another one who had found himself someone to hook up with. 

In the end, you were on your own for the remainder of the party. After having found a way into the lounge through the masses of people attending and remained on the couch, watching those around you for a while, you decided to get back up and grab a drink. There wasn’t an entire selection to choose from; either warm beer or cheap wine, which you grab from the latter and pour some in a plastic cup to try and fit in with everyone else. 

The briny taste of the wine was enough to make you think that maybe it was time to go home. It wasn’t fun, interesting, nor a good way to spend your time on a Friday night. Before being able to make the decision to leave, you find yourself planted on the ground when your eyes catch onto a familiar figure amongst the people. 

Chan. Your ex-boyfriend - your ex-best friend at that too. 

It was a surprise to see him given that he isn’t really a party goer, but also a surprise to see him in general after the pair of you went through such a tumultuous breakup a month ago. Things just didn’t work out the way they were supposed to which was unfortunate because Chan is one of a kind.

There isn’t anybody like him that exists in this world. He’s gentle, caring, and has a bottomless well of love to give. Now that you’re not together anymore, you know that whoever he ends up with in the future is well taken care of. 

“Hi,” Chan says, walking up to you. 

“Hey,” you respond back, unsure of how to actually talk to him now. “What are you doing here?” 

Chan sighs, looking at the screen of his phone momentarily then turning his attention back to you, “trying to find Minho. I’m here to pick him up, but I can’t find him. Is he here?”

“I haven’t seen him for the past couple of hours,” you answer. “I highly doubt he’s actually here still.”

He sighs and rolls his eyes, “course he’s not.”

“He probably went to Jisung’s at some point,” you add.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” he replies before his eyes peer down at the plastic cup. “Drinking? That’s not like you.” 

“It’s the end of the semester,” you say in your own defence. “I was trying to finish off strong.”

“Right. Have you got a ride home then?” 

Your eyes dart beyond Chan to ‘your ride home’ who has probably now consumed half of his body weight in alcohol. Chan catches your gaze, turns around and sees Seungmin throwing back another shot with a couple of strangers, presumably his classmates.

Chan sighs once more and faces you again, “don’t tell me he was supposed to sober drive.” 

“He won’t be now,” you respond. 

“Okay well, I can drop you off. Minho’s not replying and he’s probably not here, plus I’m getting tired,” he offers. 

You ponder for a moment. Since Chan had come up to you, you hadn’t felt that sting of pain that a breakup usually induces. Not since the day you both called it quits on the relationship. But that’s only because things were never awkward with him. It’s only until now that you realise how depleting life has been without him. It’s not colourful anymore. 

It’s an issue because you don’t want to be reminded of what you don’t have anymore. Sometimes, the best things can be the worst for us. 

“It’s okay, thank you though,” you decline respectfully. “I might tell the others to get ready to head off.” 

“And who’s going to drive them? You?” He asks with a brow raised then shakes his head with disapproval. “You’ve been drinking.”

“Not that much,” you retort. “I’m not even tipsy, plus I don’t want to leave them behind.”

“Seems like they left you behind,” Chan points out a very good point which you find hard to not be in denial about. 

He takes the plastic cup out of your hand and places it on the nearest surface cluttered with other discarded items. He then returns back to you to gently take hold of your wrist and leads you out of the lounge full of people. 

“Wait-”

“I’m not letting you drive under the influence, end of story,” he decides. 

With that matter in hand, you’re quickly reminded that Chan has always had a strong head on his shoulders and his morals are very clear cut. He held reasonably strong opinions on doing unnecessarily dangerous things, particularly when it comes to you. It happened to be one of the poisonous factors that pierced the final dagger into the relationship. 

The cold air then hits you when you both make it out into the front yard. 

“I can walk thank you,” you say to Chan who forgets that he’s still holding your wrist. He looks down at his hand and releases. 

“Sorry,” he apologises. “Car’s this way.”

He leads you once more just across the street to the vehicle while you think about the fact that you never actually agreed you were going to accept his offer to take you home. In saying that, there was no other alternative other than walking which Chan wouldn’t have put up with anyway. 

The pair of you hop in his car, finally able to catch a break from the blaring music that was blasting throughout the house. After both of your seatbelts are on, Chan starts the car and drives away down the street. 

It’s not long until silence falls quickly. Things had never been this terribly awkward between you both, but there had been pockets of quietness which used to be comfortable to sit in. Now you can see that it’s not as nice. 

“So what have you been up to these days?” Chan asks out of the blue, breaking that silence. 

“Nothing interesting I guess,” you answer blandly. “Just studies and that’s it.” 

He nods, “how’s that going so far?”

“Fine, I suppose.”

Chan lets out a small huff, “you know, it’s still okay for us to talk right? We don’t need to be so hostile.”

The glow of your phone from your lap catches your attention away from his comment. You blink down at the screen and read a text from Felix. 

Lix: ‘Saw you leave with Chan. Please tell me you’re both back on.’ 

You roll your eyes. You love Felix, but sometimes he can be too optimistic. There wasn’t any way you and Chan were going to find your way back to each other. If anything, it wouldn’t be the same anymore. 

“I wasn’t being hostile, plus there’s not much to my answer anyway unless you want me to lie?” You respond back.

“No, I don’t want you to lie,” Chan adjusts his tight grip on the steering wheel. “But you speaking just proves my point on why we shouldn’t act like that.” 

You turn your head, shooting him a well-deserved glare. This isn’t usually how Chan acts. He never says backhanded things as such even though he can be relatively blunt. Whatever subtle malice was behind his words obviously came from the same place that helped the relationship tear apart. 

“This is why we never worked out because you always had to have some degree of control,” you scoff, ignoring the fact that you’ve now doused the flicker of the argument with petrol.

“I was only doing what I though was safest for you,” Chan argues back strongly. “It was never about having any type of control, it was because you couldn’t see what the consequences were.” 

“Then why couldn’t you have let me figure it out for myself? How else am I supposed to learn, when you’re not here anymore?” 

“You, driving drunk isn’t something that you just learn not to do. You don’t do it, full stop. Anyone with common sense knows that,” Chan bites back. 

“I’m not even talking about that! When have I ever driven drunk? Now you’re just fucking reaching for things! All I’m saying is that it didn’t matter how much time I spent with you, I never got to be my own person. It was like I was turning into another ‘you’.”

Chan shrugs, “in comparison to what you can be like sometimes, I honestly don’t think that’s so much of a bad thing.” 

The last nerve inside you, had been struck.

“Stop the car, I’m getting out.” 

“No, we’re nearly at your h-”

“I don’t care Chris, I seriously don’t want to be anywhere near you right now,” you cut him off sharply, not wanting to hear another word come out of his mouth. 

Chan looks over at you, absorbing how painfully angry you look right now and the fact that your hand is on the door handle, ready to bolt as soon as he pulls over. It was fairly obvious because once he did, you were out of the vehicle before he could say anything more. But as fast as you are out the door, Chan is already on the other side to meet you. 

“Don’t go home angry,” he says urgently. 

You shoot him a dirty look, thinking who the hell is he to tell you what to do, “or what?”

“Well can we at least talk then?” He questions, trying to grasp onto some common ground here. 

With as much force as you can muster, your arms come up to shove Chan by the chest, “fuck you.”

He stumbles back a few steps and is not as nearly as surprised as you are by your own behaviour. Never has anyone elicited as much of a reaction from you until now. The shock has you to the point where you can barely assemble an apology to Chan. Even so when he comes back forward, grabbing you by the sides of your arms, and shoving you right back against his own car. 

Before either of you say another word, his mouth crashes straight against yours. His swift hands are quickly groping and roaming in every place around your body that he can reach while you submit to his moves. You’ve forgotten how electrifying Chan can be at times when it comes to intimacy, that you really start to feel it when he slides his knee in between your thighs. 

You gasp against his lips, yelping almost when his hands reach behind you to squeeze your ass and to try to bring your body as impossibly close to his as he can. For a split second, you break away to consolidate what is happening. Chan remains latched onto you, his mouth now working its way to your jaw and down to your throat, sucking and biting into your skin. 

Neither of you care about whether or not he’s going to mark you up. All you care about at this point in time, is the hope that he’s going to fuck you. 

“The door…open the door,” you mumble to him, even though you’re trying to find the handle yourself. 

Even with the unshakeable frame of mind that he’s in right now, Chan listens to you. He pulls you forward with him so that he can yank the backdoor open. You hop onto the seat, pushing yourself backwards to the other side of the car to create room for him to join you. But Chan had his own idea planted already. 

He grabs you by the ankles and pulls you right back to the edge of the seat closest to him. His hands take pride in reaching underneath your skirt and tearing your underwear down your legs. 

He doesn’t even get the opportunity to fully take them off as they dangle on one leg. In saying that, it doesn’t take you very long to click onto what he wants to do. So you help him by doing your best to hike your skirt further up your thighs. Chan decides to take a few seconds to appreciate being able to relive this moment once more by using his thumb to swipe over your wet slit, collecting your juices only to bring it up to his mouth and suck it right off. 

“Fucking missed this,” he speaks for the first time in about five minutes before lifting both of your legs and separating them for his head to slot in perfectly between. 

The fan of his hot breath washes over your skin, already making your squirm forward towards his mouth. It’s been a long time since someone had touched you and Chan could tell. He knows how needy you can be, but not when you’re like this. Not when you’re straining to reach for the back of his head to pull him closer to your pussy. Not when you’re already moaning when he’s barely touched you.

Not when you’re wetter than what he usually thinks you are.

“Y-Yes…right there,” you sigh out and lie back down, waiting eagerly. 

One of your hands threads through his dark hair and tugs every time he sucks on your clit. Shivers of pleasure reverberate throughout your body, already making your legs tremble on his shoulders. If anyone were to drive past, you know you and Chan would get done for public indecency. Except that devious consequence became an elicit far away thought drowned out by your own moans the more Chan continued to eat you out. 

The best thing about it is that he’s not going easy on you. He’s being deceptively rough by digging his nails into your thighs and showing zero remorse when he relentlessly licks over that same sweet spot. The more work he puts into trying to make you cum, the harder he gets in his pants, straining at this point.

“P-Please Chan, hurry,” you cry out, trying to sit up and slide down further into his mouth. “Need to cum, please.”

When your begging and moaning become increasingly louder and more frequent, Chan knows you’re on the cusp of an orgasm. However, as much as he used to enjoy you cumming on his face, the idea of you cumming on his cock is just as good, if not better. So just as you’re about to tip over the edge, Chan pulls back. 

You blink in amongst the haziness of what was about to be a mind shattering orgasm to see Chan who’s head had lifted up from in between your legs. His mouth and chin were covered in your juices, and is completely unashamed about it. 

“You can just fucking wait,” he snaps and begins to adjust your legs so that he makes sure they cage his body at his sides, that way he can grab onto your thighs and fuck you hard and steady. 

Although you can barely see, you hear the zipper to his pants open before he takes out his cock, hard and ready to put it to use on you. You bite down on your bottom lip when Chan uses his tip to tease your entrance. He pushes his hips forward, enough to make his cock slide up and in between your pussy. 

Chan’s shaky hand manages to get a proper hold around his dick, aligning it with your wet hole, and slowly pushes in as the heat begins to encapsulate around his length. The top half of his body nearly falters forward if it weren’t for his hips that thrust forward first. 

“Chris…” you mutter in an aspirated voice, feeling the fullness of his cock stretch you out.  

There is no forewarning for the strength he has behind each buck of his hips. It takes you back to times before during your relationship and how deliciously memorable the sex always was. Chan’s main priority was to always make you cum first and regardless of his own needs and pleasure. Whether you misbehaved or were being an outright undeserving brat in bed, even then he would still let you cum. That’s how much he loved you. 

“Nobody can ever fuck you the way I do,” Chan grits his teeth, his eyes watching his cock disappear inside of you each time he rams forward, hard and fast. 

Every second that goes by, you’re grappling more and more onto your last threads of sanity. It’s hard to keep up and absorb Chris’s stamina and pace - a relentless and unapologetic pace that hits the same spot inside you over and over again until that build up of pleasure starts spreading around your lower abdomen. 

“Make me feel…so good,” you mumble incoherently. “Gonna make me cum.” 

It’s been a long time since Chan has heard you say those words - hell, even heard you moan at the very least. It’s enough to keep his pace steady but he’s very wary of the fact that he himself is already near the edge of an orgasm too. Nonetheless, he’s determined to get you there first once more. 

So Chan lets go of one of your legs at his side so that he can use his thumb to now rub fast circles over your clit. Your hands grip at the hem of your skirt, back arching as you start submitting to the crest of intense pleasure Chan has built up for you. Then within seconds, Chan has you cumming hard around his cock, shuddering, and straining his name out of your mouth as it rings throughout his car. 

“Fuck, baby…” he groans as his head tips back before he starts spilling white inside of you. 

His hips stutter finally, gently slowing down to a leisurely pace while he drowns in the afterglow from one of the most transcendent orgasms he’s ever had. He gives you both time to come down before he carefully slides out of you. It takes you a while to fully fathom what just happened, but you allow yourself to think about it. Whatever it is, it’s not regret. There’s a longing feeling there, a borderline sense of relief. 

Once Chan is decent, he helps you slide your underwear back on even though you’re both fully aware of the fact that he just came inside you. It’s not like either of you were prepared for this to happen. In saying that, Chan gently takes hold of both your hands and gets you to sit up.

“You okay?” he questions, using his finger to hook some of your messed hair out of your face. 

You nod, “yes. You?” 

“I’ve been worse,” he answers, making you smile. “I’m really sorry for what I said earlier.” 

You shake your head, “I’m sorry as well for being so stubborn. I figured that the more hostile I am towards you, the more I push myself away so that I don’t have to deal with any feelings from before.” 

Chan completely gets it, “I know. I thought I could do the same, but it seems that I’m too nice.”

You roll your eyes, “you’ve had your moments.” 

“I definitely have,” he replies. “Anyway, we should go in case anybody just saw that.” 

A bashful sense of embarrassment washes over you. It’s been minutes before you realised that you just fucked your ex. But even so, it doesn’t really feel that way. It’s just Chan, someone who you still have a lot of love for. 

“You can stay at mine, it’s late,” you suggest to him. 

Chan smiles softly, “as if I’m going to say no.”

-

A/N: Yes, I am a day late already to Kinktober - I just realised bc my dumb ass was trying to figure out time zones and when would be the best time to upload for people bc I’m quite some hours ahead from other countries. So I’ll just stick to my time zone, that way you’ll get my works a few hours earlier x

KINKTOBER TAGLIST: @mal-lunar-28 @fairy-lixie @dreamingaboutjisung @lizzetmv @luneskies 🩷🩷