#much more at peace and I needed to say that somewhere

[promptedwordsmith]

Please mayhaps could you write something cute of Mc/Reader falling asleep while laying on their chest listening to their heartbeat 😭

inspired by this dialogue from Zayne I just got 🙈

Love your writing btw, I binge read all your stuff earlier…😭

Aww thank you!

Caleb

The night was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city in the distance. The stars stretched endlessly above you, faint against the glow of streetlights filtering through the window. The air was cool, a soft breeze shifting the curtains, but the warmth of Caleb beside you made the world feel impossibly small, like the only thing that mattered was the space between you.

You hadn’t meant to stay this late.

It had started with a casual visit—an excuse, really. Just an evening spent together after days of missing each other between missions and responsibilities. You had barely managed to steal moments alone lately, both of you too caught up in the demands of your work, your Evols, your duties. And now, here you were, hours later, lying on his couch, wrapped up in his presence as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Caleb sat against the cushions, his black and orange jacket tossed somewhere over the armrest, leaving him in just a simple t-shirt. He had one arm resting lazily behind his head, the other draped across your back. Your body was half on top of him, your cheek pressed against his chest, rising and falling with each steady breath he took.

The sound of his heartbeat filled your ears.

Strong. Constant. Safe.

You hadn’t planned on falling asleep like this. But after everything—after the exhaustion, the weeks of pushing forward without rest—this felt… inevitable. Like gravity pulling you down.

Caleb hadn’t moved much since you’d settled there, just enough to shift comfortably, to make sure you had the space to breathe. His fingers ghosted over your back, absentminded, soothing. He wasn’t speaking, but he didn’t need to. The warmth of his body, the solid presence of him beneath you—it was enough.

You felt his chest rumble slightly as he let out a breath, a soft chuckle you almost missed.

"Didn’t think you’d get this comfortable with me so soon."

You made a small noise in protest but didn’t lift your head. It was too much effort, and you were too content.

His fingers brushed against the curve of your shoulder, warm and slow. "Not that I mind," he murmured.

You sighed, shifting just slightly, letting your body mold more against his. “M’not comfortable,” you mumbled sleepily, words muffled against his shirt.

"Oh?" Amusement colored his voice.

"M’just… too tired to move."

He huffed a quiet laugh. "Right. That’s it."

You didn’t argue. You barely had the energy to think, much less banter with him. The steady thump-thump of his heart was lulling you under, making it hard to focus on anything but the warmth beneath your fingertips.

A few minutes passed in silence, peaceful and undisturbed. Caleb wasn’t one to stay still for long, not with the kind of life he led, but right now, he hadn’t moved an inch. Maybe he didn’t want to wake you. Maybe he just liked this as much as you did.

And then, in a voice quieter than before, he spoke again.

"Feels nice."

You made a questioning sound, but you didn’t open your eyes.

His fingers traced a slow, lazy path down your back. "Having you here like this."

Your heart skipped.

It wasn’t like Caleb to say things outright. Not when it came to feelings, anyway. He showed his affection in actions—through protection, through thoughtfulness, through every quiet way he looked after you. But every now and then, he let things slip.

And for some reason, this moment felt more intimate than any of the ones before.

You swallowed, suddenly more aware of how close you were. His heartbeat, still steady beneath your ear, was the only thing grounding you.

You exhaled. "I like it too."

His hand stilled for half a second, then continued its slow, absentminded movements.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, saying nothing at all.

Time didn’t matter.

The world outside didn’t matter.

All that mattered was the quiet rise and fall of his chest, the way his heart beat for you, with you.

And eventually, before you even realized it, you drifted into sleep, safe in his arms.

Caleb had lost count of how long he’d been lying there, unmoving, just watching you.

You had fallen asleep so easily against him, so naturally, as if you had always belonged there. Your breaths were soft, steady, barely more than a whisper against his skin. And your weight—light but present—felt right.

He exhaled, staring at the ceiling.

He should’ve moved. He should’ve carried you to bed, tucked you in properly, maybe even left the room to give you space.

But he didn’t.

Because some part of him—some deep, selfish part—couldn’t bring himself to let go.

His arms tightened around you, just slightly. He felt the way you shifted in response, curling closer in your sleep, like even unconscious, you knew you were safe with him.

That did something to him.

He had spent so long protecting you, making sure you were okay, keeping his distance where he thought you needed it. But now, here you were—sleeping soundly on his chest, trusting him without hesitation.

And it undid him.

His fingers traced absent patterns against your back, slow, thoughtful. He didn’t know if you’d even remember this in the morning, if you’d be embarrassed, if you’d pull away and act like it hadn’t happened. But he’d remember.

He’d remember the way your breathing synced with his, the way your body had fit against him like it was meant to be there. He’d remember the warmth of you, the way you had melted into him without fear.

And, more than anything, he’d remember the moment he realized—he never wanted this to end.

He exhaled, tilting his head just enough to press the lightest of kisses against your hair. A whisper of a touch, something you wouldn’t feel, something just for him.

"Sleep well," he murmured against your temple. "I’ll be here when you wake up."

And for once, he truly meant it.

Rafayel

Rafayel always ran a little warmer than most, his body heat like an ember refusing to die out. It was comforting in a way that made it difficult to resist curling up beside him, though you rarely admitted that out loud. He’d be insufferable if you did, teasing you with that lazy grin, calling you clingy despite the fact that he was the one who draped himself over you like a heavy blanket more often than not.

Tonight was no different.

It had been a long day—one of those days where exhaustion settled into your bones like a permanent weight. The kind of day where even lifting a hand to wave away Rafayel’s usual antics felt like too much effort. You had barely managed to shuffle into his home, kicking off your shoes in a haphazard heap by the door before collapsing onto his couch without so much as a greeting.

Rafayel, ever the dramatic one, had let out an exaggerated sigh as he flopped down beside you, slouching against the cushions as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “You look like you’ve fought an entire army and lost.”

You hummed in response, not even bothering to open your eyes.

That wasn’t enough for him, of course. He prodded your arm with a single finger, then two, then your cheek, then your forehead—until you swatted weakly at his hand, cracking one eye open to glare at him.

“If you don’t let me rest, I’ll—”

“What?” He smirked, all sharp teeth and amusement. “Throw me out? I live here.”

You groaned, rolling onto your side to put your back to him, but it was no use. Rafayel was persistent when he wanted to be. His arm slung itself over your waist, not quite pulling you in, but making sure you couldn’t wriggle away either.

“Stay up with me,” he murmured.

“No.”

“Rude.”

You huffed a small laugh, but the exhaustion was winning. You felt the weight of his arm shift slightly, and before you knew it, he was adjusting, coaxing you effortlessly into his embrace as if it was second nature.

You barely resisted.

His chest was warm beneath your cheek, rising and falling in an easy rhythm, his heartbeat a steady thump-thump against your ear. You listened without thinking, without meaning to, letting the sound ground you in a way that nothing else could.

“Comfortable?” Rafayel’s voice was softer now, lacking his usual teasing lilt.

You made a vague sound of agreement, nuzzling just a little closer.

His fingers skimmed lightly over your back, absentmindedly tracing little shapes into your shirt. “You’re hopeless, you know that?”

“Mhm.”

“You weren’t supposed to agree.”

You smiled sleepily.

Silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t empty. It was full of the warmth of his body, the scent of sea breeze and something faintly sweet, the quiet lull of his breathing.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

You wondered if he even realized how soothing it was. If he knew how easily he could lull you to sleep just by being there.

His hand stilled against your back, and for a moment, you thought maybe he had fallen asleep too. But then, his voice—softer now, barely above a whisper—broke the silence.

“You do this a lot.”

You hummed, half-asleep already. “Do what?”

“Listen to my heartbeat.”

Your eyes cracked open just enough to peek up at him, but his expression was unreadable in the dim light. His gaze was focused on the ceiling, his lips pressed together in quiet contemplation.

You shrugged, your fingers absentmindedly curling into the fabric of his shirt. “It’s… nice.”

Rafayel let out a small breath of amusement, though there was something thoughtful in the way he tightened his grip around you, as if trying to pull you just a little closer. “I don’t think anyone’s ever told me that before.”

You blinked sleepily. “Really?”

He tilted his head slightly, as if considering it. “Most people don’t get close enough to notice.”

That made sense, you supposed. Rafayel was not an easy person to get close to. He could charm his way into any room, could captivate entire crowds with his talent and confidence—but when it came to true closeness, true intimacy, he chose his moments carefully. He built walls around himself, kept his distance from the world even as he stood in its spotlight.

But with you…

You weren’t entirely sure when it had changed. When the teasing had shifted into something softer, something real. When he had stopped keeping you at arm’s length.

Maybe it had been gradual, like the way the tide reshapes the shore over time.

Or maybe it had always been there, waiting to be acknowledged.

His fingers resumed their absentminded tracing against your back. “Does it make you feel safe?”

You hesitated for only a second before nodding. “Yeah.”

Rafayel exhaled, a breath that sounded far too heavy for such a simple conversation. But he didn’t say anything else.

His heartbeat continued its steady rhythm beneath your ear.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

You sighed, letting your eyes drift shut again. Sleep pulled at you like a tide, warm and steady.

You didn’t know how long you lay there, tangled up in each other, before Rafayel finally spoke again, voice so quiet you almost thought you imagined it.

“…Good.”

And then, as if nothing had happened, his fingers continued their slow, lazy patterns against your back, lulling you further into sleep.

The last thing you felt before drifting off completely was the faintest press of lips against the top of your head.

Rafayel didn’t say anything else.

He didn’t need to.

Sylus

The night was warm, the kind of heat that settled under your skin and refused to let go. The air carried the faint scent of rain from earlier, mixing with the smoky tang of the fire burning low in Sylus’ study. You had been sprawled across the couch for what felt like hours, tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable, but no matter what you did, rest wouldn’t come.

You huffed, rolling onto your stomach, cheek pressing into the cushion. Across the room, Sylus sat at his desk, flipping through a dossier with the kind of effortless focus that made you want to be a distraction. He had been watching you from the corner of his eye for a while now, though he hadn’t said anything—probably waiting for you to admit defeat first.

"You’re brooding," he finally murmured, flipping another page.

You groaned. "I don’t brood."

His lips curled slightly, but he didn’t look up. "You do when you don’t get your way."

Your head snapped up, eyes narrowing. "Excuse me?"

He turned a page with an infuriating level of ease. Smug bastard.

"You heard me," he mused. "Something’s bothering you. You don’t want to admit it, but you also want me to figure it out for you. You’re restless, and I don’t like it."

You scoffed, pushing yourself up. "You don’t like it? Oh no, whatever shall I do?"

Sylus sighed, finally looking up at you, his crimson gaze dark and knowing. "Come here."

You sat up fully, arms crossing over your chest. "No."

His expression didn’t change, but you saw the flicker of amusement in his eyes. "No?"

You smirked, lifting your chin. "You want me? You come get me."

For a moment, he just stared at you, as if weighing his options. Then, without warning, he moved.

You barely had time to react before a shadow loomed over you, arms slipping around you with the kind of effortless strength that made resistance seem laughable.

"Sylus!" you yelped, squirming as he lifted you off the couch like you weighed nothing.

"Problem, kitten?" he murmured, the warmth of his breath brushing against your temple as he adjusted you against his chest.

You kicked your feet, half-heartedly shoving at his shoulder, but he didn’t so much as flinch. Instead, he sank back into his chair, pulling you down with him, settling you against him.

Your back rested against his chest, his arms lazily draped around your waist, as if holding you there was the most natural thing in the world.

"You’re ridiculous," you grumbled.

"And yet," he mused, resting his chin lightly against the top of your head, "you always end up right where I want you."

You huffed, about to argue, but then—you heard it.

The steady, unshaken rhythm of his heartbeat.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Slow. Certain. Unyielding.

For a moment, you forgot why you had been restless in the first place. The world outside faded, the tension in your limbs melting into the warmth of his body. His heartbeat filled the silence, a constant, grounding sound that made everything else feel so small.

You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of everything—his warmth, the slow rise and fall of his chest against your back, the way his fingers had started tracing small, absentminded circles against your ribs.

"You’re listening," he murmured, voice quieter now.

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

His heartbeat was so steady, so sure. A deep, resounding thing that made you realize just how erratic your own had been all night. But now… now you were matching him, falling into the rhythm of him.

A breath.

A beat.

A moment.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his sleeve, gripping just a little tighter.

"...You’re annoying," you mumbled.

Sylus huffed a quiet laugh, his fingers slipping up to cup your jaw, tilting your face just enough for your eyes to meet his. "And you’re a brat," he murmured.

Your lips parted, but no words came.

Because his gaze wasn’t teasing anymore. It was soft. Intense in a way that made your stomach twist and your pulse stutter, despite the slow, grounding rhythm of his own beneath you.

"...Don’t do that again," he said after a moment.

Your brow furrowed slightly. "Do what?"

"Try to deal with things on your own when you don’t have to." His voice was low, serious. Final.

You swallowed hard.

Sylus was not a man who needed anyone. He was self-sufficient, independent, a lone wolf who had built an empire from the shadows. But with you, he let himself be different.

And this? This was him asking you to do the same.

You let out a slow breath, turning your face back into his chest. His heartbeat was still there, still steady, still constant.

Your fingers loosened against his sleeve, your grip no longer desperate, but something else. Something trusting.

"...Okay," you whispered.

Sylus let out a quiet hum, satisfied with your answer. His arm tightened just slightly around you, and for the first time that night, you weren’t restless anymore.

You listened.

To the crackling fire. To the distant city.

To him.

To his heartbeat.

And slowly, carefully—you matched it.

Xavier

The steady rhythm of Xavier’s heartbeat was the only sound you could focus on. A soft, constant thump-thump, thump-thump beneath your ear, grounding and unwavering. It was late—too late—but exhaustion had long since settled into your bones, making your eyelids heavy.

You hadn’t meant to end up like this, curled against him with your cheek resting over his chest, legs tangled loosely. It had started as a simple evening together, the two of you stretched out on the couch, basking in the rare quiet. The mission earlier had been grueling—physically and mentally draining—and you had been too sore to move much, content just to exist in Xavier’s presence.

He had been the one to pull you close, an arm draped lazily around your waist as if it was second nature. And now, as you lay against him, your body melting into the warmth of his own, you realized how easy this felt.

His fingers traced light, absent-minded patterns against your back, the touch featherlight, almost reverent. You could feel his breath ruffle your hair every now and then, slow and even. The city lights outside cast a faint glow across the room, flickering against the walls, but neither of you made a move to turn on the lamp.

"You're quiet," Xavier murmured. His voice was deep, a little rough, the kind of tone that made something inside you settle. "Tired?"

You hummed in response, nuzzling just slightly into his chest. "Mm. Comfy."

A soft chuckle rumbled beneath you, and you could feel his amusement more than you could hear it. "So, you're just using me as a pillow, then?"

You smirked but didn’t open your eyes. "You make a good one."

Xavier huffed, but his hand on your back didn't stop its slow, lazy movements. "Lucky me."

There was no teasing in his voice, though—just something warm, something fond.

It wasn’t often that you got to be like this with him. Unrushed. No missions, no battle wounds, no chaos pulling you in opposite directions. Just you and him, together.

And God, it felt good.

His heartbeat was steady beneath your cheek, a quiet, comforting rhythm that made the exhaustion settle even deeper in your body.

Xavier didn’t push you to stay awake, didn’t urge you into conversation. He just let you rest.

And maybe that was what made it so easy to finally let yourself relax.

At some point, you started drifting.

It was slow, like sinking into warm water, the world softening around the edges. You could still hear him breathing, still feel the rise and fall of his chest, but everything was beginning to feel lighter.

And then—

A soft voice, close. "You gonna fall asleep on me?"

You made a vague noise of acknowledgment but didn’t move.

Another chuckle. "That’s a yes."

You felt him shift slightly, adjusting his hold on you, but he didn’t pull away. If anything, his grip on your waist tightened just slightly, as if anchoring you to him.

"You’re warm," you muttered, your voice sluggish with exhaustion.

Xavier huffed out a breath. "You're barely awake and that's what you choose to say?"

You smiled against his shirt. "Mhm."

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then, softer—quieter—"Good."

You might have imagined it, but his hand moved to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your hair. A touch so light it almost wasn’t there at all.

You sighed, content, before finally letting yourself fall.

When you woke up, you weren’t sure how long you had been asleep.

The first thing you noticed was that you were still on Xavier’s chest, still curled up against him like you had never moved. The second thing you noticed was that he hadn't moved either.

His arms were still wrapped around you, one hand resting at your lower back, the other still tangled lightly in your hair. His breathing was deep and even, but you weren’t sure if he was actually asleep or just resting.

You shifted slightly, tilting your head to glance up at him, and—

He was awake.

His blue eyes, always sharp and focused, were soft as they met yours. There was no teasing smirk, no witty remark. Just quiet warmth, something unreadable flickering in his expression.

"Morning," he murmured.

You blinked, still groggy. "Is it?"

A small, amused huff. "No. But you’ve been out for a while."

You exhaled, stretching slightly but making no effort to move away. "Why didn’t you wake me?"

Xavier’s fingers ghosted against your back again, tracing idle shapes. "Because you looked peaceful."

You stared at him for a moment, then rested your head back against his chest. "...Still comfy."

This time, he laughed—a soft, real laugh, not one of his usual teasing chuckles.

"You just gonna stay here forever, then?"

You hummed. "Might."

His heartbeat was still steady beneath your ear, his warmth still pulling you under. And God, if it was up to you, you wouldn’t move at all.

You must have fallen asleep again, because when you woke up next, the lights outside had shifted. The city was still glowing, but the colors were different—softer, cooler, as if the night had settled deeper.

You yawned, stretching slightly before blinking up at Xavier again. He was asleep now, his face more relaxed than you had ever seen it.

And something about that made you pause.

Xavier never truly let his guard down. Even when he was exhausted, even when he was resting, there was always something about him that remained sharp. Always aware, always prepared for whatever came next.

But right now?

Right now, he was peaceful. His lips were slightly parted, his expression free of tension, his breathing slow and even.

And you realized, with a quiet pang in your chest, that he had fallen asleep because he trusted you.

Carefully, hesitantly, you lifted a hand to brush a strand of silver hair from his forehead. Your fingers barely grazed his skin, but he didn’t stir.

You swallowed, something unspoken tightening in your throat.

You were safe with him.

And maybe—just maybe—he was safe with you, too.

You smiled, small but genuine, before settling back against him.

"Sleep well, Xavier," you whispered, knowing he wouldn’t hear you.

Then, listening to the steady sound of his heartbeat, you let yourself drift off once more.

Zayne

The world outside had slipped into an almost unnatural silence, the kind that only seemed to happen in the late hours of the night when everything around you had finally fallen still. The air was crisp and cool, but inside, the warmth of the apartment wrapped around you like a soft blanket. You had spent the evening together—dinner, quiet conversation, and some small talk that had faded into comfortable silence. Zayne’s usual stoic nature had softened somewhat, allowing you a glimpse of the ease he usually kept hidden behind the layers of his professionalism.

The clock on the wall ticked slowly as you settled beside him on the couch. Zayne sat with his legs stretched out in front of him, his back straight despite the fact that he had obviously spent long hours at work. His three-piece suit was loosened now—the jacket discarded, the top button of his shirt undone, and his glasses resting casually on the coffee table in front of him.

You noticed the tension in his shoulders, how he unconsciously worked his jaw, as if the stress of the day was still weighing heavily on him. Even after everything he had done, the hours he had put in, he still couldn’t seem to let go.

Without a word, you shifted closer, your body naturally gravitating toward his warmth. Zayne didn’t seem to notice at first, absorbed in his own thoughts, but when you rested your head gently against his chest, you felt him pause.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The quiet in the room was broken only by the soft hum of the city in the distance and the low sound of Zayne’s breathing.

Then, you heard it.

Thud-thud.

His heartbeat.

Slow, steady, and constant.

It was like a pulse that reverberated through his body, steadying your own. You hadn’t realized how much you missed it, how much you needed to hear it, until now. There was something about the sound of his heartbeat—something reassuring. Something grounding.

Zayne shifted, his hand slowly moving to your back, his touch light and hesitant at first, as though unsure whether he should be the one to initiate any sort of contact. But when he felt you settle against him, the tension in his fingers eased.

“You’re tired,” he whispered softly, his voice low and warm.

You hummed in response, not sure if you wanted to admit how exhausted you truly were.

“I know,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Zayne’s hand moved slightly, his fingers brushing gently against your back, tracing light patterns across your shirt. There was no hurry in his movements—no urgency, just a simple, soft touch that seemed to say more than words ever could. The rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear grew louder, the thudding echoing in your mind as you closed your eyes, allowing it to lull you further into the moment.

His fingers brushed the nape of your neck, the motion tender, and for a fleeting moment, you felt the warmth of his touch in places you didn’t know you’d been longing for. The affection in his actions, the unspoken connection between you, was enough to make you feel more at ease than you ever had before.

Zayne was never one to show too much emotion, at least not outwardly. His professional demeanor kept him composed, distant even when he cared deeply. But in moments like this, where the world outside faded into a blur, it was as though his true self could breathe, and you could feel the softness beneath the armor he wore so often.

Thud-thud.

It was so constant, so unchanging. A reminder that no matter what the day had thrown at either of you, here, in this moment, things were calm. You were safe.

You pressed your ear a little closer to his chest, your cheek resting on the fabric of his shirt. The steady beat of his heart was becoming something you could depend on, something more constant than the passage of time.

“I’ve got you,” he said after a long pause, and even though it was a simple statement, it was one that carried the weight of his every unspoken promise.

You felt his hand move up, brushing softly through your hair, the action slow and deliberate. It wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t forceful. It was just him, being present. Being there.

“I know,” you whispered back.

The room was so still, so quiet. Zayne didn’t speak again. He didn’t need to. His presence, his heartbeat, was enough to keep you tethered to the moment, to him.

You allowed yourself to settle even further, your exhaustion beginning to take hold in a deeper way now. But there was something else there too—a feeling of peace, of contentment that you hadn’t realized you were craving. His touch was the anchor that kept you from drifting into sleep completely.

When you let your eyes fall shut, the warmth of his body against yours seemed to blanket you in comfort. You could feel the faint rise and fall of his chest beneath you, the subtle movement of his body, and the weight of his hand against your back. Everything about him—the rhythm of his heart, the quiet of his breathing, the soothing motions of his hand—wrapped you in something that felt like home.

“Stay with me for a little longer,” Zayne murmured, his voice a soft plea in the dim light of the room.

You didn’t answer immediately, simply nuzzling closer, breathing in the familiar scent of him—clean, calm, and grounded.

There was no rush. No need to go anywhere.

It was just you and him.

The thud of his heartbeat was all you needed. It was enough to lull you deeper into sleep, into dreams where his presence remained close.

Thud-thud.

The rhythm of his heart.

And in that moment, you knew there was nowhere else you’d rather be.

[wonboni]

☁︎꙳ FALLING FOR YOU┆N.RIKI

『•˙synopsis: Ni-ki, the popular boy, forms an unexpected bond with you, the quiet girl. As they grow closer, they face the challenges of high school and their different worlds.

『•˙pairing: Nishimura Riki x female reader

『•˙genre: Romance, High School Drama, Fluff, Slow Burn

『•˙warnings: Mild language, bullying, high school drama

『•˙word count: 1.3k

『•˙note: Ni-ki would def be one of those popular kids

Ni-ki had always been the one everyone noticed. The boy who seemed to glide through school without a care in the world. His effortless charm and the way people gravitated toward him made him a fixture in the school’s social scene. He was always surrounded by friends, admired by peers, and never alone. But for all the attention he received, Ni-ki still felt like something was missing—something that couldn’t be found in the glitz and glam of popularity.

And then there was you.

You weren’t the type to stand out. Quiet, reserved, and incredibly focused on your studies, you were the girl who lived in the background, surrounded by books rather than friends. You were comfortable in your little corner of the school, hidden away from the chaos of cliques and high school drama. It was safer that way.

At first, you never gave Ni-ki much thought. He was just another popular boy, someone who seemed so out of reach from your world. You didn’t even think he knew you existed. That was until one day, during lunch in the school library.

You were sitting at your usual table, flipping through a book that had long since become your escape. Your lunch remained untouched beside you as you became engrossed in the story. It was peaceful, calm—just the way you liked it. That is, until the sound of footsteps interrupted your reading.

"Hey," a voice called out, breaking your focus. "Is this seat taken?"

You looked up, blinking in surprise. Standing in front of you was none other than Ni-ki. His familiar, confident smile made your heart skip a beat. You quickly glanced around, but the library was unusually empty, and no one seemed to be watching.

"No, I don't mind," you stammered, unsure of why he was speaking to you.

He pulled out the chair across from you and sat down, his eyes casually glancing over the book in your hands. "What are you reading?" he asked, a slight tilt to his head.

You hesitated, not sure what to say. "Just... a fantasy novel," you replied, feeling awkward.

He nodded, seemingly intrigued. "Sounds interesting."

For a moment, there was an awkward silence between you two. You were waiting for him to leave—he probably just needed somewhere to sit—but then, to your surprise, he spoke again.

“I always see you here during lunch. Do you ever go to the cafeteria?”

You chuckled lightly, feeling the heat rise to your face. "Not really. I like the quiet."

“That’s cool. I’ve never really been into the cafeteria crowd either. Too loud,” Ni-ki said, his voice more relaxed now, like he had let his guard down just a little. "So, what’s the book about?"

This time, the conversation flowed more naturally. You began talking about your favorite books, and to your astonishment, Ni-ki seemed genuinely interested in what you were saying. You weren’t sure if he was just being polite, but there was something in the way he listened, the way his eyes never strayed from your face, that made you feel like he actually cared.

Over the next few days, Ni-ki started to sit with you in the library more often. At first, you thought it was just a fluke, that maybe he was bored and needed a quiet place to get away from the crowds. But soon enough, it became a regular routine. Every lunch, Ni-ki would show up, sit across from you, and ask about your books, your day, and even your thoughts on different topics. It was strange to have someone like him—someone so out of your league—care about your opinions.

One afternoon, he surprised you when he asked if you’d like to study together for the upcoming math test. “I’ve heard you’re good at this stuff,” he said with a playful smirk, “and I could use some help.”

You blinked at him in disbelief. “Wait, you want me to tutor you?”

“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly a math genius,” he admitted. “But I’ll buy you coffee afterward, so it’s a win-win.” He raised an eyebrow, as if daring you to turn him down.

With a soft laugh, you agreed. "Fine, I’ll help you."

That study session became the first of many. Ni-ki showed up to your table in the library day after day, determined to improve his grades. But as the sessions progressed, you both started to realize that it wasn’t just about studying anymore.

There were moments when he’d glance over at you, his eyes soft and focused, as you explained a tricky concept. Or when he’d look at you with that mischievous smile, teasing you about your ability to solve problems faster than he could. You found yourself looking forward to those moments, to the way he would make you laugh or the way his presence seemed to bring warmth to your otherwise quiet world.

One day, Ni-ki showed up late to their usual study session, looking a little out of breath. "Sorry I’m late," he said with a sheepish grin. “Had some… stuff to do.”

You smiled but noticed the slight tension in his shoulders. “Is everything okay?”

He hesitated for a moment before nodding, though there was something in his eyes that hinted at something more. "Yeah, everything’s fine. Just a lot of drama with the guys. You know how it is."

You didn’t fully understand, but you didn’t press him. Instead, you let the conversation shift back to math. As the session continued, however, you couldn’t help but wonder what had been on his mind.

Weeks passed, and the connection between you and Ni-ki only deepened. It wasn’t just about schoolwork anymore. You started to talk about everything—family, hopes for the future, fears, and dreams. There was an ease to being around him, a comfort you hadn’t expected.

One afternoon, as you were walking out of the library together, Ni-ki suddenly stopped. You turned, puzzled, only to see him staring at the ground for a moment before he looked up at you, his expression softer than usual.

“Hey,” he began, his voice quieter than usual. “I just wanted to say… thanks. For all the study sessions, the talks, and for just being... well, you.”

You blinked, unsure of how to respond, but the sincerity in his eyes made your heart flutter. “Of course. I’m happy to help.”

Ni-ki’s gaze held yours for a few moments, and for the first time, you saw a glimpse of something more than the confident, charming guy everyone else saw. There was vulnerability there, something you hadn’t expected.

“You know,” he said, breaking the silence with a smirk, “I think I might actually be starting to look forward to these study sessions. Not just for the math, but because… well, I like spending time with you.”

You felt your cheeks warm at his words, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause. Ni-ki—of all people—was saying this. He was looking at you like you meant something to him.

“You do?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

He nodded, his playful grin returning. “Yeah, I do.”

From that moment, things between you and Ni-ki started to change. It wasn’t just about studying anymore. The more time you spent together, the more obvious it became that there was something deeper between you two. But even as you grew closer, there were still challenges. Ni-ki’s popularity came with its own set of pressures, and you couldn’t ignore the whispers in the halls whenever people saw you together.

But no matter what anyone said, Ni-ki made it clear: he wanted to be with you. And for the first time, you felt like you didn’t have to hide who you were.

It wasn’t going to be easy, but it was worth it. Together, you and Ni-ki would face whatever high school threw your way, learning that sometimes, the most unexpected connections were the ones that changed you forever.

©️ WONBONI

[dearweirdme]

Sorry I'm sure you're tired of the airport head kiss asks. But my opinion is that if it were ANY other pairing from BTS everyone would most likely be agreeing it was a kiss. But since it's taekook ppl need to argue that it's anything but. It's exhausting being a tkkr sometimes... 🙄

Hi anon!

I think the issue is, that people think we’re claiming a definite romantic acts here.. and they’re partly right.. because within my believes about Tae and Jk I do think there’s things they do that are romantic. I don’t claim this moment as something inherently romantic though, but rather of their closeness and how they want to show that. That one anon’s ‘openly kissing in a public place’ is willfully turning our thoughts into something they are not. They wouldn’t say something like this about Tae kissing Jin on his head during a live.

Going to go a bit ranty here, because yesterday’s conversation has me thinking a lot…

None of the tkkrs I know are on here trying to figure out whether it’s Taekook or if it’s jikook. I’m sure there’s a subsection of fandom somewhere where that happens, but it’s very far from what we encounter here. It’s also not a mindset that I find agreeable, because it seems to originate from wanting to ship in general rather than actually seeing something special between two persons. What I am doing here and what most of us are doing here is looking at Tae and Jk and thinking about the extent of their relationship. Jkk is not a factor in that at all. For me Jm’s place in this is as both Jk and Tae’s friend and bandmember. Jkk as a fandom is spoken about because that fandom causes false narratives and hate, not because their ship ‘triggers me because deep inside I know it’s real’.

Talk about closeting comes with a lot of grey area imo. There’s a big deal of space between someone in a country where there’s a death penalty for being queer and who’s closeted and someone being closeted because their advisors tell them it’s bad for business. Both are horrible imo, and both can be extremely damaging on a personal level. It’s hard to speak about being privileged when it come to a closeted person, but at the same time I think such privilege does exist. It exists because aside from being queer.. there’s other factors that make up a person. Tae and Jk have the privilege of wealth and of having a great network of friends and family. I love knowing they have this privilege. I think it allows them some peace in a messed up situation that has harmed them immensely. I think they would have been out had it not been for their careers. Neither one of them is actually afraid of being seen as queer imo. What they’re afraid of is losing their careers and the effect it will have on BTS as a whole and the good they do through BTS. It’s also very much a question if their contract (which will have image clauses) allows them to be out at all. When I look at Tae especially, he’s not been afraid to show his queer self at all.. so I think there’s space that allows for signals.

I see their situation like this: there are things they definitely can’t do. Living together publicly, enlisting together, obviously romantic acts like kissing on the lips, telling the world they are queer, things that fall in that category in general.

There are also things Hybe hasn’t allowed, but that I feel would have been manageable. A taekook collab. Being portrayed as close friends throughout.

The grey area would be things that shows them as close, but not necessarily romantically involved. This is a huge area in my opinion and the reason why there’s so much discussion on ‘are they, aren’t they’. It’s why at times we see things that make us go 😳 (like hearing a person sleep next to Tae, and the sweetheart shirts, and the airport kiss, and Jk flying to Hawaii) but other times we have mentions of ‘why doesn’t Jk support Tae more’. It’s stuff that’s highly dependent on moments. Stuff that has temporary impact, but not much in the long run (like enlisting together will have).

This is what I apply to both Tkk and Jkk. There are things that I know can’t happen and there’s grey space.

Imagine for a bit being them. Being young, in one of the most popular bands in the world, still on a rise to more fame…. And you fall in love with each other. So deeply in love, it’s impossible not to be together, because you aren’t even able to stay away on a practical level. The company catches on.. what does your boss tell you? Does he tell you to hide and be professional or else you’re putting your (and your member’s) career at risk? Or does your boss go and allow you to publish footage of your romantic getaway to Tokyo for everyone to see? Does your boss give you boundaries to what you can do together or does he put a spotlight on the two of you as a duo?

It is exhausting to be a tkkr at times. I know I have gone through periods of huge fandom fatigue (honestly have only found pleasure in blogging back only recently) because of it. The exhaustion that comes from people trying to place what we say in black and whites, people willfully bending our words or only pointing out one specific sentence without looking at what we say as a whole. Tkk is a very sensitive topic for many. I try to balance my own peace and allowing for interesting conversations and different opinions, but it is hard at times. I’m at times too trusting, at times too reactive, at times I do get triggered. What’s helped me a lot though is just keeping my focus on Tae and Jk. Them together, but also them as individuals just give me such joy.. that truly trumps fandom shenanigans for me every time.

[thesassywitchofthenortheast]

—

[sieglinde-freud]

ive probably talked about it before but there is obviously an inherent tragedy when it comes to the awakening second gen that is present in all of their characters, but some of them are definitely more comic relief-y than others? which is fine but i think the funniest thing ever is the devs making inigo fire emblem almost entirely a gimmick haha funny character (with like. TWO exceptions in his supports and those two exceptions are literally just his parents) and then realizing “hey people kinda like this guy. lets switch it up a bit for the dlc” and then made like. the best character in the world. like who knew all people needed to enjoy the womanizer trope was to drop him in situations where flirting was no longer an option. then come fates hes like a whole different guy (in a good way!) which, yes you can chalk up to him growing up, but theres a clear difference in how he was written and how selena and odin were written in the same guy and you can just see how the writers were like “holy shit we struck gold with this one” like its crazy hes crazy hes my favorite guy in the world. AND HES STILL FUNNY

[girlivealwaysbean]

it's not sinking in that today might be the last day in my house and town for many months to come

[pepprs]

just went thru all of the notes on that post and like. YEAH. it’s a fucking wonder. like i should get to scream. i should get to lie down. i should get to have as many treats as i want for free.

[inkskinned]

i think a lot about exactly 1 thing from the roman empire: the concept of bread and circus. the idea was that if your population was fed and entertained, they wouldn't revolt. you are asking us to give up our one small life, is the thing - for under 15 dollars an hour.

what would that buy, even. i am trading weekends and late nights and my back health. i am trading slow mornings and long walks and cortisol levels. i am trading sleep and silence and peace. for ... this. for what barely-covers-rent.

life really is more expensive right now. you aren't making that up. i make almost 3 times what i did 5 years ago, and despite an incredibly equal series of bills - i am still struggling. the most expensive line item i added was to own a dog. the money is just evaporating.

we were okay with it because it's a cost-benefit analysis. i could handle the customer harassment and standing all day and the manager's constantly changing temperament - i was coming home to hope, and my life planned in a blue envelope. three hours would buy me my dog's food for a month. i can give up three hours for him, for his shiny coat and wide, happy mouth. three days could be a new mattress, if i was thrifty. if i really scrimped and saved, we could maybe afford a trip into the city.

recently i cried in the car about the price of groceries.

business majors will be mad at me, but my most inflammatory opinion is that people should never be valued at the same place as products. your staff should not be a series of numbers in an excel sheet that you can just "replace" whenever you need something at that moment. your staff should be people, end of sentence.

it feels like someone somewhere is playing a very bad video game. like my life is a toy. like someone opened an app on their phone and hired me in diner dash ultra. they don't need to pay me well or treat me alright - they can always just show me the door. there is always someone more desperate, always someone more willing.

but i go to work and know i could save for years and not afford housing. i am never going to own my own home, most likely. i have no idea how to afford her ring, much less the wedding. my dog doesn't have his own yard. everything i love is on subscription. if i lose my job, i have no "nest egg" to catch my falling.

this thin life - they want me to give up summer for it. to open my mouth and throat and swallow the horrible hours and counted keystrokes. they want me to give up mountains and any non-federal holiday. to give up snow days. to give up talking to my mom whenever i want. to give up visiting the ocean and hearing the waves.

bread and circus worked for a while, actually. it was the kind of plan that would probably now be denounced by republicans as socialist commie liberal pronoun bullshit.

but sometimes i wonder if we should point them to the part of the history book that says: it worked until it didn't.

[unluckilyimnot]

Playing with their hair – aether, kinich, wanderer, rin, sae, sakura

note: i'm just in love with aether and kinich recently and i needed to write something with aether's hair so why not had some of my fav characters along with them. that's probably not really good but i guess it's cute. ooc

m.list | rules

Aether is used to your hands suddenly laying on his hair, running through them when you walk behind him – it’s like an urge, you just have to. You stopped on your track, bowing to kiss his head, inhaling his shampoo a little and hummed at the sweet scent.

“You took my shampoo again,” you mentioned, not in a warning way, more like you appreciate it. He nodded lightly, delighting himself from the feeling of your hands still running through his hair, scratching his scalp a little before kissing it again.

Sensing that you’re about to go away, his hands take yours gently and his head bent down to look up at you. “Already leaving ? We can both take a break…” he said, subtly implying you to not stop yet, making you giggle.

“Sure, we can.”

That’s basically how he ended up sitting on the floor between your thighs, watching a movie while you brush his hair for him, kindly letting your fingers run down his beautifully long hair – trying small, low buns to one high ponytail.

“Having fun ?” You can hear the smile in his voice, amused as always when he let you enjoy his hair more than he does.

“Always.” you said while kissing his nose from above, hiding the tv from his sight for a mere second but he still whines at you for doing so. Such a crybaby.

Kinich sighs as he feels your hands examining his hair again. “Would you stop doing that ?”

He knows you’re not doing this to annoy him, yet it always kind of stresses him to picture you scanning his scalp without any invitation to do so. He also knows that you don’t care about what he says, continuing to play with his hair while you swipe away some dandruff here and there.

“What’s the matter,” you talked back, seemingly frustrated. “You never say anything when it’s to help you fall asleep.” you argued, feeling really satisfied when he doesn’t find anything to say after that. It for sure helps a lot, he can’t argue with that, but he really hoped you could realize that it works all the time and not only when he wants it to – which means he was getting sleepy, slightly closing his eyes while he still had a lot to do.

A satisfied sigh escaped his lips before he could hold it in and you hummed teasingly. Your hands moved from his head to his chest, your arms caging him against you and you laid your head on top of his. “Tired already ?”

“Shut it.” he sounded harsh but he still rested against your chest as well, feeling at peace being so close to you. He wasn’t really tired but if you let him, Kinich would for sure appreciate some quality time with his head in your chest and your hands in his hair. Not that he’ll say it to you.

Wanderer honestly never mind when you ask him if you can play with his hair, he’s usually already busy and not moving so someone touching his hair while studying doesn’t change much for him. He won’t say that it doesn’t make it easy to concentrate since he, sometimes, tends to focus on this more than on the words written in front of him but he still appreciates how peaceful it makes him feel when he’s particularly worried or stressed.

Your hand running through his short strands of hair takes him somewhere else where he doesn’t need to worry as much, he likes it, even if he would never be physically capable of telling you.

“You’re braiding it ?” he asks, half absent in his question – he just wanted to confirm the feeling of your fingers brushing past his cheeks repeatedly. You hummed softly in response, leaving the braid dying the second you let it go since his hair was too short to handle it. It doesn’t discourage you though, and before he can ask what you’ll do next, he can already feel your steady movement back to the same scheme and a soft chuckle left his lips.

“You want me to stop ?” you asked under your breath, probably still concentrated on what you were doing but still caught his sigh.

“No, it’s fine. Go on.” he assured before stepping back again into his study, more than relaxing by this short break.

Rin loves movie dates to his core, but it always gets him when you start touching his hair in the middle of the movie. It's like he's never getting used to it and he's jolting a bit every single time, making you chuckle. But you always kiss his head as an excuse after. 

There's something relaxing when your fingers start to twirl around his short hair, making him wonder who appreciates it the most between you and him. Because he for sure loves it. 

His mind drifts away easily despite himself and how badly he wants to follow the movie. He always finds some way to lean into you, craving for more like a cat and more often than not, he ends up laying on top of you. 

“Don't fall asleep this time Rin,” you joke while scratching his head playfully. He simply nodded, absorbed in the movie more than you gave him credit for. He just didn't want you to stop.

Sae hates it when he feels your hands finding his hair in the middle of the day. He spends quite some time styling his hair in the morning, even if it doesn’t look like it, and you being nearby automatically becomes a danger for that.

Not that he doesn’t like you touching his hair, he’s fond of it, he wishes he could die with you touching his hair, but not during the day. So as soon as he feels it, he immediately gets up and warns you. “Please don’t.”

But he knows it can't be helped and soon your lips meet his, kissing him sweetly – your successful way to distract him – so you can end up with your hands reaching the hair in his neck. Twirling your fingers around it, pulling ever so slightly to annoy him but he still lets you. Not without a sigh against your lips, but he knows damn well he can't hold you back when you're determined to do something. 

He wishes he could keep his hair pretty for the day at least once in a while but he can't blame you ; both of you like it very much. He can forget his image for yet another day if that means he can appreciate the relaxing feint of your fingernails on his scalp. Even if lately it's starting to be everyday, he won't mention it – or not seriously. 

Your smile is more precious than some good hair day. 

Sakura still isn't used to you touching his hair, he hasn't been used to gentle gestures in his life before coming here  –  especially regarding his looks. The second your hands find his hair, he flinches by reflex even if he knows that it’s only you around him. He doesn’t turn you down anymore though since you always let him know how you love his hair, for the color or the fluffiness ; it’s just the best thing in the word and it got to be your boyfriend’s hair. You must be blessed. 

You still try not to frighten him too much, and start by touching his shoulders then going up to his neck and finally the hair in the nape of it. Twirling it lightly with your fingers and you’re sure to catch him snapping his head to you with a blush. 

“What are you doing ?!” he asked as always, flustered but not telling you to stop anyway which made you smile sweetly. 

“I’m playing with your hair ? You want me to stop ?” you tilted your head to the side, trying to act cute and confused so he doesn’t have the heart to tell you no. And with a resigned look but his brows still frowned, he compiled without adding anything.It’s a win, once again. 

You then slowly but surely brush through all his hair, tossing it one side to another, mixing the two colors together then separating it again like a puzzle. That’s something you grew to love, separating his hair for him and that’s also your best excuse to touch it even when there’s people around. Even if he’s not fond of it.

He tends to lay a bit in your hand when you do so, or when you stop your hand in his hair, quietly liking the feeling now that you’ve given him some time. Not that he’ll say it to you, never, but he doesn’t need to for you to know. It’s just like you to notice how he relaxes around you and when you do it. There’s a small smile on your lips when he tries to catch your eyes but looks away instantly, blushing again, and it makes you wonder when he’ll stop blushing around you. 

“You’re cute, Haruka,” you said, brushing away his bang to kiss his forehead. And without a second of hesitation – when in fact yes, but you tried to ignore it –  he was arguing with you about how he is NOT cute, simply proving your point again and again.

Let me know if you like it !

[reidsworld]

A Different Kind of Training

Summary: When sparring with Logan turns into something more.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Fem!Mutant!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: sparring, cursing, mentions of alcohol, teasing, flirting, kissing, making out, tit sucking, fingering, heavy petting, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), creampie, knife play? (the claws come out), use of Y/N, pet names (baby, bub, darlin’) — you are responsible for the content you consume, if you are not comfortable with any of these warnings or are a minor, DNI!!

Word Count: 2.8k

Mars speaks… Two fics in one day? What can I say, I’m a sucker for writing (and Logan Howlett). I originally wasn’t gonna write smut for this but I locked in and nearly 1.4k words of smut later, I’m happy with how it turned out! I was imagining Logan in X-Men but this gif is too hot not to use.

Masterlist

The sun was setting over Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, casting a warm, golden light through the large windows of the gym. The usual buzz of activity had quieted down, leaving you alone to get in some extra training. The silence was almost calming, a rare moment of peace after everything that had happened over the past few days.

You were lost in your thoughts, practising your kicks against a heavy bag, when the door creaked open. Without needing to look, you knew who it was. There was only one person who could move so silently yet make his presence known so effortlessly.

“Looks like someone’s been working hard,” Logan’s gruff voice came from behind you, a teasing edge to it. You could practically hear the smirk in his tone.

You turned, arching an eyebrow as you met his gaze. “Just trying to stay sharp. Didn’t expect you to drop in. Thought you’d be nursing a beer somewhere.”

He shrugged, leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Beer can wait. Figured you could use some real training instead of beating up that bag.”

You couldn’t help but grin. “Oh, so you’re volunteering to be my punching bag?”

Logan pushed off the wall and strolled toward you, his movements fluid and controlled. There was always something captivating about the way he moved—like a predator, always aware of his surroundings, always ready to strike.

“Something like that,” he said, his voice low as he came to a stop a few feet from you. “If you think you can handle it, bub.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at your lips. “Big words, Wolverine. Hope you can back them up.”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. “Guess we’ll find out.”

The session began as it always did—circling each other, testing the waters with light jabs and quick footwork. But there was an underlying tension tonight, more than usual. Maybe it was the way Logan’s eyes kept straying to your lips, or the way your heart raced every time he got close.

“You’re getting slow, old man,” you teased as you dodged a punch and spun away, landing a light tap on his shoulder.

Logan’s lips curled into a smirk. “And you’re getting cocky. Might have to teach you a lesson.”

His words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you both just stood there, staring at each other. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, you both lunged forward, fists flying in a blur of motion.

The sparring intensified, the lighthearted banter replaced by focused determination. But even as you fought, there was a spark of playfulness, a dance of words and movements that only the two of you shared.

“Is that all you’ve got, bub?” Logan grunted as he blocked a kick and spun you around, his grip on your arm firm but not painful.

You twisted out of his hold, a sly smile on your lips. “Wouldn’t want to hurt your ego too much, Wolvie.”

His laughter was low and genuine, and it made something warm unfurl in your chest. Logan was a hard man, but moments like these—when he let his guard down, even just a little—made you feel like you were seeing the real him. The one beneath all the gruff exterior and adamantium claws.

As the session continued, you found yourself pushing harder, testing his limits just as much as your own. Each time he got close, you felt the heat of his body, the brush of his skin against yours, and it was becoming harder to focus on the fight and not on how much you wanted him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of back-and-forth, you saw your opening. With a quick feint, you managed to sweep Logan’s legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the mat with a surprised grunt.

You didn’t waste a second, straddling him and pinning him down with a triumphant grin. “Looks like I’ve got you.”

Logan looked up at you, his eyes dark and intense, but there was a hint of amusement in his gaze. “Seems so. What’s your plan now, darlin’?”

The way he said “darlin’” sent a jolt through you, and suddenly the playful atmosphere shifted into something heavier, more charged. You leaned in closer, your faces just inches apart, your breath mingling with his.

“Maybe I’ll make you beg for mercy,” you whispered, your voice low and teasing.

Logan’s lips curled into a slow, wicked grin, his hands coming up to rest on your hips. “Or maybe I’ll turn the tables on you.”

The challenge in his voice was clear, and you felt your pulse quicken in response. But before you could think of a retort, Logan’s grip tightened, and with a swift, effortless movement, he flipped you over, reversing your positions so that he was the one hovering over you.

“Gotcha,” he murmured, his voice rough and gravelly, but his eyes were soft as they searched your face. He wasn’t pinning you down, not really—there was still room for you to escape, but neither of you made a move to do so.

The tension between you was palpable now, crackling in the air like electricity. Logan’s gaze flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes, as if asking permission. You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest, but you gave a small nod, unable to find your voice.

That was all the encouragement Logan needed. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was as fierce as it was gentle. It was like everything that had been building between you two—the banter, the flirting, the unspoken tension—was pouring out into that one kiss.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, your hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer. The rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you, lost in each other.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads resting against each other’s. Logan’s eyes were still closed, his grip on your hip gentle but firm as if he didn’t want to let you go, while his other hand was on the floor, positioned next to your head.

He leaned down to lay passionate but gentle kisses against your neck.

You bit your lip, suppressing the almost vile moan that was on the tip of your tongue, feeling the warmth of his breath against your skin. “I’ve been waiting for you to make the first move.”

Logan chuckled, raising his head to look at you. “Guess I’m not as patient as I thought.”

You laughed softly, your fingers tracing the lines of his face. “Guess not.”

The mood between you had shifted, the playful teasing giving way to something deeper, something more intimate. You felt a connection with Logan that you hadn’t allowed yourself to fully acknowledge before, and now that it was out in the open, it felt right.

“So, what now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s eyes darkened with a new intensity, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “How about we take this workout somewhere more private? I’ve got a few ideas on how to… optimise our training.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the suggestive tone in his voice. “Lead the way,” you murmured, your heart pounding with anticipation.

Logan smirked, pulling back just enough to help you to your feet. But before you could move, he captured your lips in another heated kiss, this one more urgent, more demanding. It left you breathless, your knees weak as you clung to him for support.

When he finally released you, there was a hunger in his eyes that mirrored your own. Without another word, he took your hand and led you out of the gym, his pace quick and determined. The cool night air hit your skin as you stepped outside, but you barely noticed, too focused on the man beside you.

Logan’s room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting long shadows on the walls. The air was filled with a quiet intensity as you both entered, the door closing behind you with a soft click.

Logan’s gaze was fixed on you, his eyes dark with an unspoken promise. He stepped closer, his rough hands finding your waist, pulling you gently towards him. The world outside seemed to fade away as you stood there, the anticipation crackling between you.

You looked up at him, your heart racing, as his hands slid up your back, his touch both firm and tender. “So, this is your idea of a private training session?” you teased, your voice breathless.

Logan’s lips curled into a smirk as he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “Just thought we could continue our workout in a more…personal setting.”

Before you could respond, Logan’s lips were on yours, his kiss fierce and hungry. The sudden intensity took your breath away, but you melted into it, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, gripping him as you kissed him back with equal fervour.

His hands roamed your back, pulling you closer as if he wanted to absorb every inch of you. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent as you both lost yourselves in the sensation. The roughness of his hands contrasted with the softness of your skin, creating a delicious tension that only heightened the experience.

Logan’s lips were warm and insistent, moving with a rhythm that made your pulse quicken. He gently pushed you against the wall, his body pressing against yours, the heat and strength of him undeniable. You responded eagerly, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, your lips moving in perfect harmony with his.

The kiss was a dance of passion and exploration, each touch and caress filled with a mix of tenderness and desire. Logan’s hands slid down to your hips, his grip strong and possessive as he pressed you closer against him. You could feel the heat of his body, the hardness of his muscles, and it only made you want him more.

“Jump,” Logan said, though it sounded more like a grunt than actual words. As you jump, his arms catch you, holding you by both of your legs as your hands threaded through his hair. You could feel him straining against his pants while he walked you over to the bed. You looked up at him with a smirk from where he tossed you on the bed. You slowly begin to undress, leaving you bare in front of him with the exception of your bra and panties.

“Stunning,” He muttered under his breath as he stared at you in a trance. His hand travelled down to his aching bulge, palming himself at the sight of you.

“Just gonna stand there and stare or are ya gonna do something, Wolvie.”

He let out an almost animalistic growl as he climbed on top of you, capturing your lips with his. His rough hands hands felt smooth against your skin as they travelled across your body. He pulls away from you, looking at his hands as his claws come out. He gently slides a claw under your bra, snapping it, freeing your breasts.

His claws retract and discard the bra across the room. His head quickly dives down to your tits, mouth latching onto one of your hard nipples as his hand kneads at the neglected breast. A yelp escapes your lips as he gently bites down on your nipple.

Your hands twine themselves in his hard, tugging gently as he moves his attention to your other breast. As he focuses on your breast, he shifts so that his elbow is holding him up while playing with your breast. His free hand slides down your body, slipping into your panties.

His fingers brush over your clit, making you let out a very solicited moan. His fingers run up your slit, making him groan.

“Fuck, you're already so wet and I’ve barely done anything yet, bub,” you let out an almost pathetic whimper in response. You feel him rut against your leg, attempting to get some much-needed relief. One of your hands leaves his hair and moves to push off his pants before planning him through his underwear, earning a groan from his lips.

You gasp as you feel one of his thick fingers enter you, pumping and curling in and out. It feels so good, all you can do is moan out his name. Looking into your eyes, he pulls you into a kiss as another finger slips into you. He swallows your moan with his mouth.

“Logan, ‘m so close baby,” you moan into his lips before whimpering at the loss of contact as his hand pulls your of you.

“Need to be inside you, want you to cum around my cock, darlin’” he says making you nod quickly, pulling your hand away from his groin.

He stands up, pulling off his boxers. As his cock frees, it slaps against his stomach and you almost whimper at the sheer size of it. His claws slowly extend out of his fist. He crawls back on top of you before using one of his claws to gently rip off your panties.

He positions himself at your entrance and looks up at you for approval.

“Please Logan just fuck me already.”

Gently and slowly, he pushes himself inside of you. His head falls back at the feeling of you around him. You wince at the slight sting from the size of him. He slows down and looks at you. You nod at him and moan as he bottoms out.

The two of you stay still for a minute as you adjust to him.

“Ok, you can move now, Lo.”

“How d’ya want it darlin’?” his raspy voice sounds out, making you even wetter.

“Rough baby, I thought this was supposed to be private training not–,” you tease him but are quickly cut off by your own moan as he roughly pulls out to the tip before slamming back in. His hands grip your legs, pulling them over his shoulder before moving to tightly grip the pillows next to your head. Your arms move up my your head, loosely wrapping around his.

The room is filled with loud moans and grunts as he fucks you. One of his hands moves down to circle your clit, making you cry out at the feeling. He drops one of your legs off his shoulder, changing the angle slightly.

“Oh fuck, right there!” you scream out as he pistons into your sweet spot. He throws his head back with a loud growl as your pussy clenches around him.

“Holy shit bub, so fuckin’ tight, wrapping around me just right.”

You hear the loud noise of his claws right next to your head as they extend into the bed. He uses them to give him more leverage as he fucks you harder, making you arch your back.

“‘M so close baby,” you moan into his ear as his head drops to your neck.

He doesn’t give up his relentless pace as he brings you closer to your orgasm. The sounds of his feral grunts in your ear throw you over the mess, making you scream as your insides tighten and you cum around his cock.

“Almost there,” he says as his thrusts become sloppier and his dick twitches inside of you.

“Where d’ya want it?”

“Inside, please,” you say, desperately.

Logan moves to kiss your tender lips roughly as he cums in you with a loud groan. His thrusts slow down before he comes to a stop. He drops on top of you with heavy breaths as you both lie there in silence.

Slowly pulling out of you, Logan rolls onto his back next to you before you both turn your heads to look at each other. He grins at your fucked-out expression.

“That was even better than I imagined,” he admits.

“Same,” you agree as you lean over to kiss him, smiling against his lips and muttering as you pull away,

“This was definitely a different kind of training, but I think that I still need a little more work on my form, think ya could help?”

Mars speaks... (again) I don't think I've ever locked in more than I did for writing the smut part of this. Any feedback is greatly appreciated🫶

[ozzgin]

OZZ OMG OMG OMG THAT YANDERE PRISON THING OMG OMG OMG

*jitters with excitement*

I NEED MORE AHHHHH IT TICKLED MY BRAIN THE RIGHT AND WRONG WAY AT THE SAME TIME

Like if you're nice they'll just become your dogs and if you're not nice they'll give you a very rough foursome I'm down for either OMG OMG OMG help I have problems

To quote Markiplier: "I'm not a masochist, this is about power"

*drops dead*

*instantly revives*

Ahem, I saw you mention you might come up with small plots, so I'll do the logical thing to try to inspire you:

- clueless darling ask the leaders about their gangs and whatnot. Like nonchalantly. Because they're too nice darling thought it's no big deal lol

- darling subconsciously avoid blonde man (even tho he is my favourite hahah) after seeing him beat up the guy

- darling got drunk (somehow in a prison) and either gets horny (and try to let it out under the blankets forgetting they got roommates)or innocently touchy hugging all three of them and poking their unique features, sitting in their laps and so on. Or better yet, touches/approaches other inmates in front of the roommates...

content: gender neutral reader, alcohol consumption, NSFW below the cut!

Inmates are creative. They will always find a way around the rules, and this time it happened to be a rather clumsy attempt at brewing alcohol. Had this been discovered by a guard, whoever concocted the beverage would've landed in detention.

Instead, it was you who found it, innocently assuming someone must've forgotten their water behind. You gulped down the clear liquid, thirsty after you walk, then promptly grimaced at its unexpected bitterness.

Safe to say you're now quite drunk.

That in itself would already be troublesome enough, but another thing is endangering yours and everyone else's peace: you're in a particularly flirty mood.

"What the hell are you doing?"

The officer's smile drops instantly, and he turns towards the deep voice. One of your criminal roommates glares at the sight with hollow eyes. You were clinging to the officer's arm, a dumb grin plastered on your face. The man in uniform quickly shoves you aside, his features pale and drained.

"It wasn't me who started it," he pleads.

You're quickly picked up by your bunkie, who is still staring at the guard. He won't be leaving this prison alive, that's for sure. Now, however, his priorities lie somewhere else.

The hallway spins as you're being carried away, and you shamelessly cling to your ride, feeling and groping the muscles and tracing along his tattooed skin.

"My God, at least wait until we're back to our cell," he groans with flushed cheeks.

The blonde one is trying to play it cool. Come, now, you're obviously out of it. He needs to be mature and tuck you in, or something along the line.

Easier said than done, especially with a raging boner. You're quick to notice it, and you certainly don't hesitate to point it out, making lewd gestures with your hands as some sort of offer.

"Are you sure you won't regret it tomorrow?"

"Hey now, I'm drunk, not unconscious," you bark between hiccups.

He may have interrogated you further, but the thought of your pretty little mouth struggling to take him in is too much to bear. He's essentially drooling by the time he pats his knee for you to come over.

The pierced one drops you on your bed with a flat expression. Annoyance? A closer look at his pursed lips, and one can tell he's really just struggling to maintain his composure.

"Please, I really need to-"

You hold him back by the arm and bat your eyelashes. In return, he clicks his tongue. Is this some sort of test from above? His beloved Darling is essentially begging to be fingered. Yet, he shouldn't be taking advantage of your state. He shouldn't...

Too late. You gasp at his rough fingers making their way in.

"Alright, don't be too loud," he concludes with a faint smirk.

The masked one gently places you on your bed, then plants himself before you with crossed arms.

"Nonsense. You're drunk."

"I mean it", you repeat yourself.

He does his best to look imposing. Truth be told, his knees weakened from the moment "fuck me" slipped out of your mouth. He gladly would, but he has morals. Well, when it comes to you, anyways.

Your pout seems to suggest this would be a long standoff. He sighs, then pushes you back onto the mattress.

"How about this? I'll take care of it," he explains quietly, his cloth hovering above your groin. "I'll be awaiting your offer again once you're sober."

For now, his tongue will have to do.

[Yandere Prison] | [More Yandere Stories]

[moonlightwritingf1]

Christmas Morning | LN4

🎄 summary ━━━━━━━ Morning sex with Lando on Christmas morning

🎄 pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

🎄 word count ━━━━━━━ 3.9k

🎄 warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content

The first thing Y/N noticed was the warmth. It seeped through her skin, wrapping around her like a cocoon, and for a moment, she forgot where she was. The faint aroma of pine needles and cinnamon lingered in the air, intertwined with a scent unmistakably his—a blend of cedarwood cologne and the subtle musk she now instinctively linked to Lando. Her eyelids fluttered open, and there he was, still asleep beside her, his dark curls tousled against the white pillowcase.

“Merry Christmas,” she whispered softly, though she knew he couldn’t hear her yet. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, one arm draped lazily across her waist, pulling her closer even in sleep. She smiled, tracing the line of his jaw with her fingertips, marveling at how peaceful he looked. There were no cameras here, no fans or flashing lights—just them, wrapped up in each other.

Lando stirred, his nose scrunching adorably before his eyes blinked open. For a moment, he seemed disoriented, but then his gaze found hers, and a slow, sleepy smile spread across his face. “Morning,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep but impossibly warm. He shifted slightly, his hand sliding up her back to tangle in her hair. “Did Santa come?”

Y/N laughed softly, the sound muffled as she buried her face in his chest. “I think so,” she teased, pressing a light kiss to his collarbone. “But I don’t need presents. Not when I have you.”

He chuckled, the vibration rumbling through her as he tightened his hold on her. “Cheesy,” he accused, but there was no bite to his words. Instead, his fingers began to trace idle patterns along her spine, sending shivers down her body. “But I like it.”

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, the world outside their little bubble fading into insignificance. The sun crept higher, casting golden streaks across the room, and somewhere in the distance, they could hear the faint jingle of bells—probably someone walking their dog in the snow. But neither of them paid it any mind. Right now, there was only this: the softness of his touch, the way his breath tickled her ear, the lazy, contented smiles they exchanged without needing to say a word.

Eventually, Lando’s hand stilled against her back, and he tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes were darker now, more intense, and Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat. “You’re beautiful,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Especially like this, all sleepy and soft.”

She blushed, her cheeks heating under his scrutiny, but she didn’t look away. Instead, she reached up to brush a curl from his forehead, her fingers lingering on his temple. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

He grinned, that mischievous spark she loved so much lighting up his eyes. “Not so bad, huh? Damn, I must be losing my touch.” Before she could respond, he leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that started off sweet but quickly deepened. His tongue brushed against hers, coaxing a soft moan from her as she melted into him.

Their bodies pressed together, every curve and angle perfectly aligned, and Y/N could feel the heat building between them. His hands roamed her body, leaving trails of fire in their wake, and she arched into his touch, craving more. “Lando,” she breathed against his lips, her voice trembling with need.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down her spine. His fingers slipped beneath the hem of her shirt, brushing against the sensitive skin of her stomach, and she gasped.

“You,” she answered without hesitation, her hands gripping his shoulders as if to anchor herself. “Just you.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. In one swift motion, he rolled them over so that she was beneath him, his weight pressing her into the mattress in the most delicious way. His lips found hers again, hungry and demanding, and Y/N surrendered completely, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer.

His hands slid up her sides, pushing her shirt up until it pooled around her shoulders, and then he broke the kiss just long enough to pull it over her head and toss it aside. His eyes darkened as they roamed over her, taking in every inch of exposed skin, and Y/N shivered under his gaze. “So perfect,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire. He bent his head, his lips trailing hot kisses down her neck, across her collarbone, and lower still, until he reached the lace edge of her bra.

Y/N gasped as he unhooked it with practiced ease, his mouth immediately seeking out her breast. His tongue flicked over her nipple, teasing it into a hardened peak, and she cried out, her hips arching off the bed. “Lando,” she moaned, her nails scraping lightly against his scalp.

He hummed in response, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure rippling through her, before switching his attention to her other breast. His hands weren’t idle either; one slid down her side, skimming over her hipbone, while the other cupped her breast, kneading it gently as he lavished it with attention.

By the time he finally lifted his head, Y/N was trembling, her breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. “Please,” she begged, her voice barely recognizable to her own ears.

“Please what, love?” he asked, his lips curving into a wicked smile as he watched her squirm beneath him.

“Touch me,” she pleaded, her hand reaching for his, guiding it downward until it rested between her legs. Even through the thin fabric of her panties, she could feel his warmth, and she whimpered, desperate for more.

Lando groaned, his forehead dropping to rest against hers as he cupped her through the lace, his fingers rubbing slow, deliberate circles that had her gasping. “You’re so wet already,” he growled, his voice thick with need. “God, I love how much you want me.”

She didn’t have the breath to respond, her entire body thrumming with anticipation as he tugged her panties down her legs and tossed them aside. And then his hand was on her again, his fingers sliding through her slick folds before slipping inside her, curling in just the right way to make her cry out.

“Lando! Oh, God,” she moaned, her hips bucking against his hand as he added another finger, stretching her, filling her. His thumb found her clit, circling it in time with the thrust of his fingers, and Y/N felt the coil in her belly tighten, threatening to snap.

“Come for me, baby,” he urged, his voice rough with desire. “Let go.”

And she did. With a strangled cry, her body convulsed around his fingers, waves of pleasure crashing over her until she thought she might drown in them. Her vision blurred, her limbs turned to jelly, and it took everything she had just to keep breathing.

When she finally came back to herself, Lando was watching her with a satisfied smirk, his fingers slowly withdrawing from her body. “You’re incredible,” he said, his voice filled with awe, as if he couldn’t quite believe she was real.

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, her heart swelling with love and a hint of mischief as she met Lando’s gaze. Before he could react, she placed her hands firmly on his shoulders, shoving him back. He landed on the bed with a startled laugh, his hair falling messily across his forehead as he looked up at her with wide, amused eyes.

“Your turn,” she murmured, her voice low and laced with a daring edge. Her fingers found the waistband of his boxers, curling around the fabric with deliberate intent.

Lando’s breath hitched, the playful glint in his eyes quickly replaced by something deeper, more intense. His hips lifted instinctively, a silent invitation, as her touch sent a spark coursing through him. The air between them was charged, her steady gaze trailing over him like a flame, leaving him utterly captivated.

She didn’t hesitate, her lips parting slightly as she took him into her hand, feeling the weight and heat of him. Lando groaned softly, his head falling back against the pillow as she began to stroke him slowly, her thumb brushing over the sensitive tip. His hands fisted in the sheets, the muscles in his arms tensing as he tried to keep himself still.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” she murmured, her voice low and husky, filled with a mixture of admiration and desire. She leaned down, her breath ghosting over him before she pressed a soft kiss to the base of his length. His whole body shuddered, a choked sound escaping his throat.

Y/N wasn’t teasing now. She wanted to give him everything—every ounce of pleasure she could. Her tongue flicked out, licking a slow path up the underside of his shaft, savoring the way he twitched beneath her touch. When she reached the top, she circled the tip with her tongue, tasting the salty precum that had gathered there. Lando’s hips bucked involuntarily, and a deep growl rumbled in his chest.

“Fuck, Y/N…” he gasped, his voice raw and desperate. “Just like that.”

Encouraged by his reaction, she took him into her mouth, sinking down inch by inch until she felt him nudging the back of her throat. She relaxed her jaw, letting him slide deeper, her hand moving in tandem with her mouth. His moans grew louder, filling the room, and she could feel the tension building in his body, his thighs trembling beneath her.

Her free hand trailed up his stomach, feeling the tight muscles contract under her fingertips. She loved how responsive he was, how every touch, every lick, every suck brought him closer to the edge. And she intended to push him right to that brink before pulling him back, wanting to draw out his pleasure as long as possible.

Lando’s hand tangled in her hair, not forcing or guiding, just holding on for dear life as she worked him over. He was close—so close—and she could feel it in the way his breathing became erratic, the way his grip tightened ever so slightly. His hips jerked again, and he let out a strangled cry, his entire body tightening like a coiled spring.

But just as he was about to tip over the edge, Y/N pulled back, releasing him with a wet pop. Lando’s eyes flew open, wild and disoriented, and he stared at her in disbelief. “Y/N… what are you—?”

She didn’t answer with words. Instead, she straddled him, positioning herself above him. His hands instinctively gripped her hips, steadying her as she lowered herself onto him, taking him inside her in one smooth motion. They both groaned in unison, the sensation overwhelming.

“Christ…” Lando hissed through clenched teeth, his head falling back against the pillow again. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Y/N didn’t respond right away, too consumed by the feeling of him filling her completely. She moved slowly at first, rolling her hips in a lazy rhythm, savoring the friction and the way his hands dug into her skin. His eyes never left hers, their connection deepening with every thrust.

As she picked up the pace, her movements became more urgent, more desperate. She braced herself on his chest, her nails lightly scraping his skin as she rode him harder. Lando’s groans turned into low, guttural sounds, his hands sliding up to cup her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples. The dual sensations made her whimper, her own pleasure building rapidly.

“You feel so good,” she breathed, her voice trembling with need. “I love being with you like this.”

Lando’s response was a rough, almost primal growl as he sat up suddenly, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. Their foreheads touched, their breaths mingling as he thrust into her from below, meeting her every movement with equal intensity. The shift in angle sent sparks shooting through her, and she clung to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. “I love you. So much.”

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, overwhelmed by the depth of his words and the way he was looking at her. “I love you too,” she managed to choke out, her voice thick with emotion.

Their kisses were frantic now, messy and uncoordinated, but filled with passion. Every touch, every thrust, every word was an affirmation of their love for each other. Y/N could feel herself teetering on the edge, her body begging for release, but she held on, wanting to prolong this moment for as long as possible.

Lando, however, seemed to have other plans. One hand slid down between them, his fingers finding her clit and rubbing tight circles around it. The added stimulation was too much, and she cried out, her body convulsing around him as she came hard.

Watching her fall apart pushed him over the edge, and with a low, guttural groan, he spilled himself inside her, his hips stuttering as he followed her into oblivion. They clung to each other, their bodies trembling as wave after wave of pleasure washed over them.

When they finally came down, they collapsed back onto the bed, tangled together in a sweaty, sated heap. Lando pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, his arms tightening around her. “That was… incredible,” he murmured, his voice hoarse but filled with contentment.

Y/N nuzzled into his chest, her heart swelling with love. “It always is with you,” she replied softly, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his skin.

For a while, they just lay there, basking in the afterglow and the warmth of each other’s embrace. But soon, Y/N felt a familiar ache building again, a quiet yearning that refused to be ignored. She shifted slightly, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone before whispering, “Do you think we can go again?”

Lando chuckled, his fingers threading through her hair. “You’re insatiable,” he teased, but there was no mistaking the desire in his voice.

Lando’s chuckle rumbled through his chest, vibrating against Y/N’s cheek as she nestled closer. His fingers still tangled in her hair, he tilted her face up to meet his gaze. “Maybe we should open presents first,” he suggested, his voice low and teasing. “I think I got you something special.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “Oh? And what makes you so sure I can wait that long?” she countered, her hand trailing down his chest, skimming over the faint sheen of sweat still clinging to his skin.

He caught her wrist gently, bringing her fingers to his lips for a soft kiss. “Because I know how much you love surprises,” he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “And trust me, this one’s worth it.”

She sighed dramatically, though her heart fluttered at the look in his eyes. “Fine,” she relented, sitting up and stretching lazily. “But if this present isn’t as good as you’re making it out to be, I expect compensation.”

Lando’s laughter filled the room, a warm, infectious sound that made Y/N smile. Before she could process what was happening, he leaned down and swept her into his arms effortlessly. She gasped, her hands flying to his shoulders as he grinned down at her, his boyish charm on full display.

“Lando!” she protested through a laugh, though she didn’t resist.

“Patience, love,” he teased, carrying her out of the bedroom and into the living room, where the soft glow of the Christmas tree bathed everything in a golden light. He gently lowered her onto the sofa, his touch lingering as he made sure she was comfortable.

“Wait here,” he murmured, winking before turning to kneel by the tree. His shoulders flexed as he reached beneath the branches, rummaging through the pile of gifts with practiced ease. Y/N couldn’t help but admire the way his muscles moved, her heart fluttering at the effortless strength he exuded.

After a moment, he straightened up, a neatly wrapped box in his hands. Turning back to her with a triumphant grin, he walked over and held out the package, his eyes alight with affection.

“For you, my love,” he said softly, his voice warm and brimming with excitement, as though he couldn’t wait to see her reaction.

She took the box, her fingers brushing against his as she did. The wrapping paper was delicate, adorned with tiny snowflakes, and she felt a pang of guilt for wanting to tear into it immediately. But Lando’s expectant gaze urged her on, and she carefully peeled back the paper to reveal a velvet jewelry box underneath.

Her breath hitched as she opened it, revealing a stunning silver necklace with a pendant shaped like a snowflake. It sparkled even in the soft morning light, and Y/N felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “Lando… it’s beautiful,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

“Not as beautiful as you,” he replied softly, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. “Here, let me put it on you.”

She turned around, presenting her back to him, and felt the cool metal press against her skin as he fastened the clasp. His fingers lingered on her neck, tracing slow, deliberate patterns that sent shivers down her spine. When he finally leaned in to press a kiss to the space between her shoulder blades, Y/N couldn’t suppress a soft gasp.

Y/N pushed herself up from the sofa, her movements deliberate as she made her way to the Christmas tree. She crouched down, carefully retrieving a small, rectangular box tucked away beneath the glowing branches. Her fingers lingered on the neatly wrapped present for a moment before she straightened up and returned to the sofa.

Settling back into her spot, she turned to Lando, her cheeks slightly flushed. “Your turn,” she murmured, holding the gift out to him with a soft smile. Her heart raced as his curious gaze flicked between her and the box, his hands brushing against hers as he took it.

Lando’s brow furrowed slightly with intrigue, and he began to unwrap the gift, his movements slow and deliberate, savoring the moment. Y/N’s pulse quickened as she watched him, her anticipation growing with every tear of the paper.

Inside was a custom-made photo book, filled with pictures of their time together—moments captured in candid laughter, stolen kisses, and quiet mornings just like this one. Lando flipped through the pages, his expression softening more with each photograph. “Y/N… this is incredible,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing over a picture of the two of them at sunset, silhouetted against the sky.

“I wanted you to have something to remind you of us,” she explained, her voice trembling slightly. “Of everything we’ve been through, and everything we’ll still do together.”

Lando set the book aside, his eyes locking onto hers. “You don’t need to give me anything to remember us,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “You’re all I think about, every day. You’re my everything.”

Tears welled up in her eyes again, and she leaned in to kiss him, pouring all the love she felt into the gesture. His hands came up to cradle her face, deepening the kiss until they were both breathless. When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, their breaths mingling in the quiet space between them.

“I love you,” Y/N whispered, her voice barely audible.

“I love you too,” Lando replied, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from her cheek. “More than anything.”

The atmosphere around them shifted, a charged intimacy settling between them that made Y/N’s breath hitch. Lando’s gaze locked onto hers, his eyes dark and filled with intent. Slowly, his hands slid down her arms, leaving a trail of warmth that sent shivers coursing through her. His touch lingered at her wrists for a moment before he grasped her waist, firm yet gentle.

Without breaking eye contact, he guided her onto his lap, her legs straddling him as their bodies pressed flush against each other. The closeness was overwhelming, every point of contact sparking with heat. Y/N could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her palms, mirroring the rapid thud of her own.

“Do you want…” he began, his voice low and husky, but Y/N cut him off with another kiss, her hands tangling in his hair as she pressed herself against him. There was no need for words; the way she arched into him, the way her breath hitched when his fingers traced the curve of her waist, said everything.

Lando laid her back against the pillows, his lips never leaving hers as he covered her body with his own. His touch was tender but insistent, exploring every inch of her as though he was memorizing her all over again. When his mouth found her neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin, Y/N couldn’t hold back a moan.

“Lando…” she breathed, her hands clutching at his shoulders. “Please…”

He didn’t need further encouragement. His hand slipped between her thighs, parting her folds with practiced ease, and she gasped as his fingers found her already slick and aching. He teased her slowly, circling her clit with just enough pressure to make her squirm, but not enough to push her over the edge.

“You’re so wet for me,” he murmured against her ear, his voice sending shivers down her spine. “Is this what you wanted earlier?”

“Yes,” she whimpered, her hips bucking against his hand. “Lando, please…”

He chuckled darkly, his teeth grazing her earlobe. “So impatient,” he teased, but finally gave her what she craved, sliding two fingers inside her and curling them just right. Y/N cried out, her back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crashed over her.

“That’s it, love,” he encouraged, his pace steady and unrelenting. “Let go for me.”

She obeyed, her climax hitting her hard and fast, her body trembling as she clung to him. Lando held her through it, whispering sweet nothings in her ear until she finally came down, her breathing ragged and her limbs heavy.

Before she could catch her breath, Lando shifted, his movements deliberate and unhurried. He hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers, maintaining eye contact as he slid them down and kicked them aside. The tension between them crackled like static electricity, every movement charged with anticipation. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, his hands gripping her hips as he entered her in one smooth thrust. They both groaned, the sensation overwhelming after the intensity of her orgasm.

He started slow, savoring every second, every movement. Each thrust was deliberate, drawing out every ounce of pleasure until Y/N was writhing beneath him once more. “You feel so good,” he murmured, his voice strained with effort. “I’ll never get tired of this.”

“Neither will I,” she gasped, her nails digging into his back as she lifted her hips to meet his. Their rhythm grew faster, more urgent, until neither could hold back any longer. Lando’s name fell from Y/N’s lips like a prayer as she came undone again, her body tightening around him. He followed close behind, burying his face in her neck as he spilled himself inside her.

[starlitscars]

Made of ice

Jackson era! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: One stormy night in the safety of Wyoming, it occurs to Joel that even though life has turned his heart into a slab of ice, there's a soft, melting spot buried deep inside... Only reserved for you.

Word count: 5.2k

Masterlist

Tags/warnings: MDNI, NSFW, implied age gap, canon-typical violence, Joel Miller needs his own warning, protective! Joel, soft! Joel, angst, fluff, smut, finger sucking, fingering, pet names, praise kink, language, no use of y/n, soft dom! Joel, negative thoughts, dea*h wish, self-doubt, self-confidence issues, Joel is a sweetheart here (but he doesn't think he's worthy of peace), rain, lots of rain, lightning, stormy weather, kinda established relationship, let me know if a tag has gone unnoticed.

Author's note: This is my very first attempt at writing for Joel Miller. I've had the idea in my mind for a few weeks now and it's hard to resist when it comes to him (did I say Pedro Pascal?) So I hope the details are accurate and if you decide to read this one shot, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did while writing it. If you want to be mutuals, I'll be more than glad <3

Divider by: saradika-graphics

Made of ice

You should've seen what you made of him.

The calm, slow beats in his chest are strikingly different from how he remembers them. In fact, he vaguely recalls the way those racing, dreadful patterns had carved themselves into his memory. With a rigid heart made of ice, it was nearly impossible to find the pulse in him, even at his most frightened, disappointed state. 

Joel used to walk into the face of danger with a rifle clutched in his dying grip, a life to save and thousands to destroy, and in all those moments any sign of life was nonexistent in him. There used to be rage, hatred, regret, and frustration... Oh lots of frustration, running through the veins in his body. He used to walk, talk, and breathe. But he wasn't alive.

Now he doesn't find it in himself to call it miracle. But somewhere between the lines, you happened. You happened and fuelled the dying fire in the far corner of his heart. He used to keep it empty and dark, like a deserted house with no furniture, a perfect place for the noises in his head to become loud and maybe help him stand the never-ending days of what everyone called life. 

You entered his life and now most of what he feels in these old veins is warmth, safety and attachment. Yes, he doesn't call it miracle, because his past doings are too  stained and unforgivable to deserve a miracle. To deserve you. The real miracle. The fathomable idea of what it feels to be alive.

Joel feels alive.

Some days, it feels like his wretched past is clawing its way back into his mind, calling those demons to end his days of peace with you. Some nights, he's restless... So terribly restless. What if you get injured on your next patrol? What if the Raiders attack you when you're out of the gates of Jackson? What if something bad happens to you the moment his eyes close? What if these damn what ifs come to life? This old mind tricks him into seeing pictures of what has never happened and probably never will. You always assure him that you'll be careful. He trusts you and your abilities, but he does not trust his fears. Because if life is too good, it scares him. 

It scares Joel Miller, way more than it would if he was trapped in a dark room with all of his fears and demons creeping on the cold hard floor towards him. He'd rather spend every day fighting off the Clickers and Raiders and every nasty threat out there, instead of pacing around the room and waiting to see if your patrols end well or not.

So he has no choice but to either convince Tommy to pick him as your patrol partner every damn time you have to do it – which he makes sure is as limited as possible – or occasionally keep an eye on you from a distance and let his thoughts consume him at the same time. Just like what he's doing now. 

His persistence in being close to you tends to earn him annoyed eye rolls and "She's more capable than that, Joel." comments from his brother... almost all the time. But he simply can't help it, and he thinks that you know it. Because you never complain nor haul him over the coals for his instincts and worries and the immense amount of care his rigid heart feels for you. He's silently thankful for that understanding.

You are safe here, he thinks. Even though he feels restless, his heartbeat has never been this calm. He sits and watches you on nights like this and there's only one thought ringing in his head. All the scolding is worth it. You're sprawled out peacefully on the bed. His bed. It must be straight out of a fucking impossible dream. You're here, in his atmosphere, in his menacing, guilty, dark presence... And you have chosen it knowingly. It's all he can ever ask for. 

The dim moonlight is swimming in through the curtains, casting a soft, silvery shadow over your face. Your hair is falling all around you like you're knowingly doing it... Posing for an artist just to paint this delicate beauty on a canva. 

Despite his bitter mood, a content smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Tearing his gaze from you, he downs the remaining whiskey and silently places the empty glass on the table, deciding that he needs a short walk to free his troubled mind. One morning, Maria woke up and decided that Joel needs to stay behind and help Tommy in fixing the issues in the town's only library. So you should have another partner for your patrol days for god knows how long. He fucking hates being told what to do. He fought tooth and nail to prevent that, and if you weren't there to stop him, he would as well turn the mess hall into another ruin that needed to be fixed – which only meant more time away from you. 

So it's going to take only two weeks, at worst. Only a terrible fortnight before things go back to normal. It's almost unbelievable how you have managed to awaken a sense of normalcy in him that he hasn't known in decades. Your absence is an instant threat to this normal life.

Maybe it's about time he gets used to it. He's not that weak. He shouldn't let his angers and worries run him. More importantly, he shouldn't ruin your much needed sleep with his usual problems right now. You've still got the weekend. He'll take a walk and be back here before you as much as stir in your deep slumber.

Oh. The damn library.

...

Jackson is eerily quiet in the middle of the night, enveloped by darkness and as isolated as it can be in this corner of the world. It's a stark contrast to how busy the whole community is during the daylight – bustling with happy greetings, careless jokes, movie days, small parties, and lots of work to do. It all asks for social interaction and he deeply hates it.

He hates when every passer-by's attention turns to you every time you step out in the open. He hates how prying eyes rove up and down your frame every time you walk into the bar. He hates how... He shakes his head, almost rolling his eyes at the loudness of these thoughts. Joel has to remind himself that he is the one you hold onto and introduce to everyone in every social gathering. The proud gleam in your eyes always placates him. There's no need to break a jaw in this town... Perhaps.

Lights flicker by the porches and the sound of his boots on the ground is the only sound that disturbs the silence. The sky is clouding over, distantly promising another stormy night in its gloomy wake. Occasional flashes of lightning light up the road and before Joel knows it, he's passing by the Tipsy Bison. It's 3 past midnight, no wonder why its doors are locked and closed. Either way he comes to a halt, letting the gears turn in his head as he opts for a very familiar path.

Your house. It's a short walk away from the bar.

Joel still recalls that day. How long has it been? Five, six, seven months? It feels like yesterday to him.

He'd had a terrible conversation with Tommy, not at all the way he'd planned it on his first day in Jackson. Things got heated up pretty quickly, leaving a bitter taste of rejection lingering on his tongue, the burn of the whiskey only worsening his mood.

"Just because life stopped for you, doesn't mean it has to stop for me..."

The words were ringing in his head as he stormed out of the bar. Shrugging his jacket on, all he wanted was to walk as far away from that area as possible. This affronted, begrudging, irrational sting was boiling in him and in that moment he was more than ready to leave the gates of Jackson even if it called for more danger. Life had really ended for him years ago, but to hear it from Tommy right after the hell he'd went through to find him... It really hurt. 

The pain was resurfacing in rapid tides.

If his boots could dig deeper, get stuck in the snow and propel him into the cold biting blanket of the earth, he'd welcome it. If life had really ended for him, he had to make it make sense by ending himself as well. This... There was this distant melody echoing in the air and cutting through his troubled thoughts. The wind was harsh against his ears, and each step brought the melody closer. 

It really could be the last song that played before his funeral.  

Joel was surrounded by all the colors, and all he could see was white, eyes fixed on the ground. He didn't pay much attention as he bumped into someone. He barely lifted his head to apologize, and then his gaze settled on the crackling fire on the left side of the road. 

Red and orange and yellow hues. It was a fresh contrast. His eyes were hurting from all the white snow.

He came to a halt, mindlessly waving at the person he'd bumped into. A dozen of kids had gathered around the burning logs in a barrel on the porch, rubbing their hands together and listening to the same melody he was entranced by. The same melody that he thought would be his burial hymn.

Joel's eyes followed their excited faces, wondering who they were looking at. He saw you mirroring their hopeful gleams first, and then he registered the guitar on your lap. 

To make the matters worse, you had tilted your head, shooting him a funnily quizzical look. He might've looked weird back then. The town's newcomer, with a permanent scowl on his face, maybe plotting murder as well (considering that it was the main topic in all the words that already flew around about him).

He didn't answer, still dead in his tracks as if he was immobilized by some invisible force. So you shifted in your seat, silently offering him a spot among the children as if to say "You can come over and join us."

He had two choices in that moment, either a polite decline was on the table or a dismissive frown. He looked over his shoulder at the bar and finally opted for the third choice – or so his mind created another choice for him – and he nodded, joining in on your little gathering without as much as saying a word. He really wanted to hear that song.

He never asked whether you knew the words to that song, but that night when he lay in bed and his thoughts were far from the idea that he wanted to bury himself in the snow, he vaguely remembered the lyrics. And it hit him hard, like a punch to the gut.

Yeah, I don't want to hurt

There's so much in this world 

To make me bleed

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Stay with me

You're all I see

He wanted to ignore how the words affected him in the middle of the night. It was the first night he could feel some semblance of peace, not sleeping with an eye open in case someone attacked them. Ellie was safe in another room. So he really considered that. He considered the possibility of staying. He was relatively new to the community... And so damn unaccustomed to the whole arrangement. He almost woke up the next morning and started packing before he remembered where he was.

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Those words stuck with him.

And his first encounter with you was a harbinger of different things to come.

One day of patrolling with you led to another, one night of inviting you for a drink led to another. One peaceful afternoon in the stable led to another. One gloomy evening in the clinic did not lead to another. He was way too protective of you to let that happen again.

He truly feels lucky. You could be anywhere else, better off if you picked anyone other than this grumpy, old man. And yet you still want him. You silly girl. You've melted his heart with your warmth. 

But he's like a lake, deserted in the middle of a haunted forest and engulfed in coldness. Even though the center is warm and gooey, he keeps the surface frozen and rigid and menacing. Hard enough to keep his instincts sane and alarmed. Cold enough to let everyone know that you're his and he will not fucking share. 

Lightning strikes again in the sky.

He lifts himself up and off your front stairs with a heavy grunt. An hour has passed since he left for a walk. The clouds have fully gathered in the sky and he thinks that he should be by your side now.

Joel really cares little for the details, always asking Tommy and Ellie to spare him the explanation and get straight to the point. But with you, it's hard to forget a couple of things. One night, a few weeks ago, you were pulling him past the threshold of your house. So adorably drunk and inviting. He was still a little pissed by how the rainstorm had ruined your nightly walk. Despite your complaints about sharing a kiss in the rain, he'd dragged you back to the nearest shelter possible, because he just didn't want to get fucking soaked. Joel didn't find it romantic at all. He was frowning, still pinning you against the wall for a begrudgingly needy kiss. You giggled into his mouth, playful fingers pocking at his chest. "Come on Joel. Let yourself enjoy it... All these neverending drops on the roof, the fresh earthy scent that comes after it... It's just really beautiful. One of the few things that kept me sane before I came here..." 

He's not really against the idea. But the changing weather doesn't bode well with him. One day is sunny, and the next is rainy and it just goes to show how he has no power over the situation.

Hell. A part of Joel is really terrified of the changing weather. One day it was scorching hot, and the next his boots crunched against the white blankets of neverending snow, reprimanding him for his carelessness. Time would pass whether he wanted to or not. He is still terrified, wishing he could stretch the time he could spend with you. God knows he wants an eternity with you. 

He has seen enough rain for a lifetime. He hasn't seen you enough. How could he enjoy getting soaked in tiny drops of water when all he wanted was to bury his face in the crook of your neck and stay there for a while – maybe forever and a little more?

But he has considered it since then. If there are a few things that keep you happy and rainy days have to be one of them, he'll give you that. He'll get used to that. There's no pattern with the rainfall in here, and the weather forecast is pretty much nonexistent. He has promised himself to tell you whenever it rains, even though he despises the idea of you catching a cold after minutes or hours of dancing in the cold, letting droplets of water wash over you without a care in this wretched world. 

He also despises the idea of waking you up.

But he knows you'll like it. You careless, adorable girl. He lives to see that excited gleam in your eyes. Everytime you show it, this old heart pounds impatiently in his chest and it all feels like the first time it has happened.

He's back home in no time. 

So, kicking his boots off as silently as possible, he trudges over and settles down by the edge of the bed, suppressing a low groan. His knees still ache from all the never-ending effort he's put in repairing the library over the past few days. Jesus, he just wants it to be done as soon as possible. It feels like he's losing so much time when he's away from you. Now that you're still pretty much asleep in the same position he last saw you, all Joel wants is to lie down by your side and melt in your warm embrace instead of having to fight with his thoughts and the world to not take away yet another precious piece of him. He can't afford to even think about losing you.

Each flash of lightning illuminates the contours of your beautiful face and he can't help himself when he lifts a hand and lets his knuckles gently stroke your cheek. Your lips are parted ever so slightly and you look so innocent in your unconscious dream. He almost backs down, part of him hoping that it rains throughout the day, just so he doesn't guilt trip himself for the pout on your face if you miss it. You need to rest.

As if you sense his hesitation, you stir in bed and lean into his touch. A low hum escapes you, and Joel is too weak to deny himself the softness it brings. His wounded knuckles are soon replaced with a calloused thumb and he wonders what's so interesting about these hands that never ceases to catch your attention.

One night at the bar, Joel had caught you actually staring at them and when he teased you a little about it, you just shrugged and grinned mischievously. "I mean... I just like them so much. Your hands are always warm, and... and that's all."

He shrugged it off that night. Ellie had also considered it a flex for him to have warm hands even in the coldest days of winter, but with you and the way you looked at him... It was different. He knew it was more than that. 

And when the nights he shared with you went further than his sinful thoughts had planned, you showed him that it was more than that. It was more than the warmth you found there. If anything, your helpless whimpers were an indication of how capable and strong these hands were.

Heat blooms in his chest. It simply is endearing. The way you always seem to recognize his touch and send his head spiraling with the idea that you want him to do more. You've never been afraid of him. You've never pushed him away. You've never judged him for the horrible things he's done. Jesus, it should terrify him. Joel should've pushed you away at some point, because he knows you'd be better off without him, but how could he muster the strength to do so? Since that fateful moment on your porch, your presence keeps on inviting him for more. More than simply existing. And God, if you knew how he wants to do more than that every second of the day... Only if the world lets him breathe a little.

There's another bolt of lightning and raindrops finally begin to drum against the window pane.

Joel shakes his head to get rid of those worrisome ideas. Propping himself on one elbow, he leans over ever so slightly and lets his thumb trace its way to your chin, up to your jawline, and then back to the soft skin on your cheek. He draws circles over the blooming flush and then his thumb is traveling down to your lower lip. Your mouth parts just a little more, breathing even and content and if he gets a grip on himself, he may notice that there's a ghost of a smile in there as well.

"Baby..." He whispers softly, his gaze drifting all over your adorable face. You really are a piece of art, tangled in the sheets, in the safety of his house, and your innocent hums are doing something to him. Some obscene voice that silently pleads for more. More and more... Just to give you more. 

You stir a little more.

He leans over and places a gentle kiss on your forehead, the sweet, fruity scent he's come to like a lot about you engulfing his senses. He watches every little movement with amusement. "My sweet baby... You want to see what's waitin' for you outside."

"Joel," you mumble sleepily, voice drowsy and laced with a hint of confusion as you rub your eyes and stretch your arms before looking around the dark room with a quizzical expression on your face. It doesn't take long for the realization to hit you and the familiar gleam in your gaze makes him smile. You stare a him, wide-eyed. "Is it- again?"

He chuckles and gestures at the window. "Yes, a heavy one at that."

Again, there's that hum of delight as you follow his gaze. The pitter-patter of the rain cheers you up like a lollipop would do to a child. It's maddeningly adorable.

You should be running to the backyard by now, but instead you stare at him for a while. It's his turn to be confused. Your smile gets broader by each passing second as your delicate hands trace his face and run over the salt and pepper patches of his beard. When you playfully ruffle his hair, your eyes are still droopy and dreamy and so damn kissable that he just can't help himself.

His other hand fondles with a loose strand of hair beside you on the pillow before twirling it between his fingers. You bite your lower lip and lift your head just enough for a brief peck on the tip of his nose. He chuckles, letting his fingers draw a line over the column of your neck, down to your chest, and at last they disappear beneath the sheets, settling comfortably on the warm expanse of your belly. 

Joel assumes that his presence is not too close to lock you in place, and yet not too loose to let you drift back into unconsciousness. You just have the perfect moment to escape. For goodness sake, rain is the one thing you choose over anything else. The thing you like a lot.

But you're still here, dazed eyes flickering all over his face and it just gives him a second thought. A new idea to test your patience. Seeing you still pinned under him and unmoving, was not really in his list when he decided to walk back home and wake you up. He chortles with amusement. If you want what he thinks you do, he could give you that... "Come on sweetheart, what's stoppin' you?"

His fingers drift lower, exploring the bare flesh of your thigh, right where his mouth was hours ago. Still as warm as he remembers, maybe a little bruised too. "It's all rainy outside. Ain't that what you wanted?"

"I know..." You mumble, an undertone of need sewn in your voice as you look down over the sheets that cover every movement of his hand. It's too dark for you to see anything anyway. He could easily toss the covers aside, but it's wickedly satisfying this way. "I'm- um, just feeling a little under the influence...and it's- uh, it's distracting."

His hand caresses its way to where he knows you need it the most, and you barely repress a shudder when his fingertips glide over your folds. But he barely feels you, a ghost of a touch hovering there as a smirk threatens to flicker at the corner of his mouth.

"Wonder if my hand's makin' a good influence or a bad one. What d'you say, baby?"

It pelts down steadily outside, but you don't seem to care the slightest about it. Neither does Joel. A low gasp emanates from you when his touch becomes proper, rubbing circles and spreading the slick over your clit as slow and unrushed as he physically can manage. You're still indecently wet after he'd brought you over the edge again and again before you dozed off... and the fact that some of his cum might be gathering in his hand is fueling his lewd thoughts.

You naughty girl.

"A very bad one, I see." He tuts, feeling your chest heaving up and down beneath him. It's easy to rile you up this way. Desperation is written in your expression... and he hasn't even started yet.

"She needs fixin', doesn't she?" Joel asks, bringing his movement to a sudden halt. You're too distracted by everything he does to form a coherent thought. He lifts an expectant brow, now actually waiting for an answer.

"Yes- yes Joel... need it so bad... so bad it hurts." You breathe, a helpless pout forming on your lips.

"I know baby. I know... Jus' lay down and let me take care of it, hm? How's that sound?" He demands again, but this time he doesn't give you a chance to respond as he pushes two fingers past your weeping hole, burying them knuckles deep within your warmth. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, eyelids heavy as you grasp his arm, squirming like a helpless, needy girl.

What a cruel man he is.

"Not off to a good start, angel. I know you can be more patient."

You nod quickly, biting your lip in an attempt to stop yourself from wriggling and twisting on the bed. For a split second, Joel considers pulling out to nuzzle his face between your legs and let the heat consume him. A perfect place to brave the cold, restless seasons. 

But his fingers aren't shy either. He starts with slow thrusts, effortlessly sliding in and out before picking up the pace. He makes you adjust to his rhythm, and when you let go and open up, the obscene moans and chocked out cries are all that fill the silence of the house. Jesus, he lives to hear them every day. He rewards you by curling his fingertips to hit that spot that makes you see stars.

You shudder particularly hard at that, more arousal pooling inside you and soaking his fingers. You're losing your grip with reality, and he can sense it as your legs begin to shake and your knee brushes over the denim of his jeans, but you still remember to abide by his "No squirming" rule.

You're so pliant and obedient in his hands that it does nothing but to spur Joel to give you more. And so he does.

"I like these sounds," He adds a third finger, tilting his head to whisper in your ear. "I dream about them all the time."

You whimper and tighten your hold around Joel's arm. When he feels that your orgasm is creeping impossibly close, his thumb joins and rubs rapid circles over your bundle of nerves and that's your undoing. You clench around him, walls tightening and squeezing his fingers deeper – if that's even possible – as waves of white-hot euphoria crash over your worn-out body and take over your senses. Your back arches involuntarily into him. A sound between a groan and a curse escapes his throat.

"That's it. Atta girl... that's it, so fuckin' beautiful."

His touch is unrelenting as he talks you through it with a string of sweet nothings. 

Only when you come down and rest back on the bed he slowly pulls out. You're panting heavily, face flushed and heated and so effortlessly seductive that Joel is sure no fucking artist could ever capture it in words of a poem or colors of a painting. Joel is the only one to witness this moment and it swells his chest with pride. He wants to drink it in, let it run through his veins like never-ending liquor.

He lifts his hand, smirking as you gape at the way it's glistening under the dim light. You're in awe. He softly places the tips between your swollen lips and you waste no time in swirling your tongue around them, licking the slick off as if it's a delightful lollipop. And the hazy look on your face says that it's more than just a sweet treat.

His own breathing hitches when you open your mouth a little wider and take him fully in, sucking and humming and driving him absolutely crazy. He shakes his head slightly, catching the playful gleam in your gaze.

"Hm. Still a very bad influence."

When you're fully recovered and satisfied, Joel lifts you up in his arms and walks towards the backyard, chuckling at your confused expression. You give a squeal and wrap your hands around his neck to keep yourself steady, at the same time trying to gauge what his next plan would be. You really have forgotten about the rain, haven't you?

He comes to a halt, making sure the blanket he'd just picked off the bed is not leaving any part of your body uncovered. The rainstorm has eased off considerably over the past hour, but he doesn't want to risk it. Keeping you warm and safe in the cold is and will always be his top priority, no matter if his back or knees protest from how much they ache. Hell, he aches for you and that content smile on your face. Nothing beats it.

"My girl still wants to go out, hm?"

Your eyes flicker between him and the half-open door, filled with excitement and delight and a tiny flicker of doubt. "Yes Joel... but...you sure you want to join in?"

"I don't know," He feigns innocence, pretending to think for a short while before his face lights up with an idea. "Do I get a kiss for it?"

You laugh and lean up to press your lips into his in a soft, lingering kiss. It's so tender and reassuring that he has to pull back before changing his mind and taking you back to the bed.

"Then it's settled."

It has been settled for a long time.

Maybe he can get used to it. Maybe you get a better idea of what you've made of him with your presence at times when he easily complies with things that make you happy. A heart made of ice, molten enough to experience the world with you all over again. Even if he gets soaked in the rain, he's alright with it. You kiss him and all the discomfort is forgotten.

He should give it time and learn to breathe again. Learn to stay, to settle. To let you know that you're all he sees.

Yeah, I don't want to hurt

There's so much in this world 

To make me bleed

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Stay with me

You're all I see

The words are carved in his head. He chances a glance at the living room before walking past the door. Your guitar is placed on the couch. Maybe one day he'll bring himself to play his melodies for you too. He thinks that he's got a lot of time for it now. He wants an eternity with you, and in this wretched world, eternity lasts as long as you'll have him.

One, two... Ten droplets fall over him. He kisses you again, harder and longer. His ice-cold heart melts just a little more at your careless laughter. Just stay with me.

[grandline-fics]

Hi!!! I LOVED the unconscious one and I was wondering if you could do a version of that with Law and Sanji?

DESCRIPTION: When you suddenly lose consciousness

WARNINGS: descriptions of fainting/ falling asleep. fluff

CHARACTERS: Law, Sanji, Ace | Luffy, Zoro | Sabo, Killer, Marco

WORDS: 1824

A/N: Thank you for this request! Someone else also requested this prompt so I doubled up the characters. I hope you like what I came up with for this one.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

———————

LAW

You understood Law’s unstoppable need to further his already extensive and impressive medical skills. Every island was researched thoroughly, including the kinds of herbs and other plants that were native to there to use in future medicines he could make. When he ventured to his own lab after an island visit with the newest additions you knew he’d be shut inside for hours on end until he’d found every possible use and countermeasure for his research in the event that anything turned out to be poisonous or bring about negative side affects. 

When night had fallen and there was still no sign of movement or sound of activity from his lab, you volunteered to go and fetch your Captain for dinner. You knew he hadn’t eaten anything since the breakfast you’d all shared together but even then it hadn’t been much given how fast he wanted to dock at the island. Leaning against the cold steel wall of the Tang you lightly knocked on the lab door, listening to the dull echo from inside. Thankfully a more human sound followed, footsteps but he never opened the door. “Captain? It’s time to eat and don’t say you’re not hungry because we both know you haven’t eaten much today.”

“I’ve eaten enough.” Law’s muffled reply came and you scoffed.

“Okay so if I ate what you’d consumed today and then skipped dinner you’d say…?”

“That’s not the point.” You smirked at the grumbled reply, knowing that was the most out of him by means of admitting he wasn’t looking after himself. 

“If I bring you a plate of food will you eat it?” You asked, knowing you had to compromise with him on days like these. 

“Fine…” For someone so serious and in charge all the time, Law really could become a grumpy child at times. Laughing softly you went to the kitchen to grab a plate of food for him. Your plan had been to hand him the food and then return to the dining hall and eat with the others so Law could continue with his work in solitude. Since he knew you were coming back you knocked once on the door and continued inside, not needing to wait. 

However the second you did you were hit with the overwhelming strength of the smell of Law’s different experiments with the plants. One second your vision was clearly on his face, the next it was blurring and you were swaying and toppling over, the plate dropping from your hands. Law saw it happen in slow motion. Immediately he activated his room ability and had you safely in his arms while what would have been his dinner smashed on the ground. Law looked at you and let out a slow sigh. He hadn’t expected that kind of reaction and made a mental note to write down this new outcome from the combination of the plants but that would have to wait. Shifting you so you were held more comfortably in his hold he carried you out of the lab and to his room so you were away from the fumes that caused this in the first place and somewhere you could rest peacefully. You were the priority and he refused to let you out of his sight or hold until you woke up.

SANJI

Another day on the Sunny, another day of typical chaos and noise. By now you were used to it to the point that if things were peaceful for too long you’d be concerned. On today’s schedule of activity Sanji and Zoro were bickering as usual in the build up to lunch time. Franky and Usopp were working on their own separate weapon modifications. When Usopp proudly announced that now his Kabuto was even more improved that practically anyone could use it Luffy loudly demanded to try it out, springing it up from his perch on Sunny’s head. After a lot of back and forth, Usopp gave in to his Captain’s whims and reluctantly handing Kabuto over along with his more harmless ammunition pellets. 

Luffy being in charge of the weapon managed to grab everyone’s attention, even halting Sanji and Zoro’s routine brawl. Even with Usopp’s assurances that everything would be safe, you knew better than to doubt Luffy’s ability to cause trouble even with little to no outside influence. To be on the safe side you abandoned your comfy place on the deck to observe from the kitchen, believing that being in an entirely different room was your best option. Watching in amusement you saw Luffy mostly strike poses with Usopp’s weapon before actually trying to use it and the safe ammunition he’d been given to play with. Then Luffy pulled back the pouch, wondering how far it would go with his added stretching ability. 

However this was something Usopp had never taken into account and when Luffy pulled beyond the strain the weapon was capable of, one of the elastic cables snapped. Not expecting it, Luffy released the weapon and toppled over as the pellet sailed through the air and directly into the kitchen. You didn’t have time to dodge and the tiny blue pellet connected against your shoulder, bursting into a small cloud of smoke. All it took was a small breath and it overcame your senses completely, sending your already unconscious body to the floor. 

Sanji was the first to drop to your side with Chopped quickly behind him. While Chopper checked you over Sanji began yelling at Luffy for being so stupid and at Usopp for being even more idiotic that the Captain by allowing this to even happen. “You better not have harmed a hair on their head or I’m not feeding either of you morons for a week!”

“I promise they’ll wake up!” Usopp insisted while grabbing Luffy to stop him from launching himself at your sleeping form to try and wake you with force at Sanji’s threat of no food. “It’ll just…take a little while.”

“What do you mean a little while!?” Sanji demanded with a glare, his anger faltering when in your sleep you rolled onto your side and relaxed closer beside Sanji, subconsciously seeking the warmth of his hand that was protectively laid on your arm. As reassuring as it was to see you seemed okay and merely sleeping soundly you were still in this situation because of his stupid crewmate and Captain. Quickly he looked to the sniper for his explanation, his anger returning in force.

“W-well I made those sleep stars to ensure whoever we used them against wouldn’t wake up right away and give us all enough time to make our escape if we needed them.”

“How long Usopp?!”

“A few hours at least.” At that revelation and the look of murder in Sanji’s eyes both Usopp and Luffy fled, slamming the kitchen door behind them. Even that didn’t rouse you. Chopper reassured Sanji that you would be okay and also left. With a small sigh, Sanji gathered you into his arms and carried you to the sofa against the wall so you could sleep comfortably while he cooked and could keep a close eye on you at the same time.

ACE

Ace took Whitebeard’s belief that everyone on the ship was a family to heart. As commander of the second division he knew the responsibility on his shoulders to ensure everyone under his command was protected and safe. Did he pay you a little extra attention and ensure you were protected and happy and safe first before the others? Maybe but he couldn’t help it. You were so easy to talk to and work along side. You made his days better and he always had a smile on his face when he was near you. Every morning he woke and would make his way to share breakfast with the crew, his spot at the table almost always either beside or opposite you. So long as you were in range to talk to that was all that mattered.

On this adventure on the winter island, Ace kept a close eye on you. While he could just boost the internal heat of his devil fruit so he couldn’t feel the cold you were left to huddle closer into your thick coat and layers when a surge of bitter wind cut through the air. You suppressed the constant urge to shiver and focused your mind on thinking of other things all the while trying to avoid looking Ace’s way otherwise you would only become increasingly jealous each time you saw how unaffected he was by the snow and cold. He was getting to truly enjoy the beauty of the island and all it had to offer. You wanted to step closer to your division commander but you resisted, not wanting him to think you were only doing so to make use of his body heat. On that principle you held back a little more than you normally would and suffered the cold.

Every step seemed to sap your strength. Even with all of your resilience and training, the walk through the elements like this always took its toll. Ace glanced back when your footing slipped for the third time in twenty minutes and saw the exhaustion clear in your face. The dropping temperature from you both trudging through a shaded area and the day dragging on wasn’t a good combination. “Hey let’s stop for a while, catch our breath?”

“Ace, you don’t need a break.” You protested with a small huff, rubbing your arms as you tried not to get too close to Ace now that he’d stopped. The second you felt his body heat, the second you’d all but give in to his suggestion. 

“Sure I do.” Ace grinned at you, offering you his winning smile, the one that could convince you to do anything. “C’mon please? Feel like you’ve been avoiding me. I don’t stink do I?”

“Oh that’s playing dirty.” You lectured with a small pout. “You know I’m not avoiding you.”

“Prove it.” Ace’s smile broadened into a grin and held out his arms to gesture you to finally come closer. Knowing you didn’t have the energy to resist Ace watched you finally close the distance. When you were in touching distance Ace slung an arm around your shoulder in a light embrace. “There we go! Geez you’re freezing!”

You weren’t even listening to Ace’s comment. The second you were in the warmth your body began to relax and your heavy limbs finally felt lighter. Your eyes began to droop and you let out a long yawn, pressing your head against Ace’s body. Before you knew it Ace had stooped down and lifted you to settle onto his back. He let out a soft laugh at the feeling of your body completely relaxing and sound of your breath evening out. You’d already passed out. “You rest up back there. We’ll be at the town soon.”

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa

[thelostconsultant]

What are we?

pairing: Oscar Piastri x reader

summary: After a bittersweet maiden win, Oscar needs his best friend's company. But maybe it's time to put a label on what you two really are.

Since Oscar had other obligations after the race, you waited for him in his driver's room, browsing the internet to see what people had to say about everything that happened today. It was pure chaos out there, and this was a bittersweet win for your friend. He deserved better. Much better than this.

At one point you must have fallen asleep, because you woke up to the bed shifting next to you, and opened your eyes with a short laugh when you felt the newcomer press a kiss on your forehead. “You're done for today?” you asked sleepily.

Nodding, Oscar lied down on his back and put his head in your lap. “I just want some peace and quiet,” he muttered as he closed his eyes. “You weren't waiting for me after the race. I missed you.”

“Didn’t know you wanted me there.”

He opened one eye to look at you. “I always want you there. I need my best friend to be there for me.”

“I'm always there for you, you know that,” you told him with your hand tangled in his hair. “Oh, congrats, by the way. I'm so happy for you!”

To your surprise, Oscar let out a groan. “What a well deserved win, wasn't it?” You gave him a disapproving look that made him reach out to take your hand. “I feel so stupid, I should have refused to overtake Lando when he slowed down.”

“Hey, listen, you were good out there today. You were in the lead until the team fucked you over.” He looked up at you with a sad smile. “You don't believe me,” you said with a sigh.

Oscar suddenly sat up and turned around to face you. “Look, I just… Everyone believes I didn't deserve this win. And it sucks. Last year I won my first sprint race, but everyone forgot about it because Max became the world champion that day. Today I won my first grand prix and everyone's talking about team orders.”

It was easy to spot the pain in his eyes as he watched you, but you had no idea how to make him feel better. He was beating himself up for something that was out of his control, and the sight broke your heart into pieces. He didn't deserve this, he was too nice to go through these emotional rollercoasters.

With a kind smile on your face, you put your palm on his cheek as you leaned closer, letting your lips gently brush against his chin. “You should stop using your brain for a few hours. That would probably help you see clearer later,” you whispered to him.

The corners of his lips curled into a playful smile, and you saw a mischievous glint in his eyes when his lips captured yours in a kiss. People knew you were good friends and that's why you were a regular guest at races, but behind closed doors you were sometimes a little more than that.

It all began around last Christmas, when you visited his family in Australia. His sisters bullied him until he came to let out some steam in your company, telling you about their wild idea that the two of you were secretly dating and he was about to propose, that's why he wanted them to meet you.

Of course, it was stupid, you would never be more than friends. Or so you thought. Because at one point later in the evening, Oscar cornered you in his old room and the two of you somehow fell into his bed. Naked. Happens to the best of us, right?

And ever since then, you were keeping up this friends with benefits situation, having fun occasionally without the commitment of a proper romantic relationship. Although there had been cracks in this setup lately, you knew that deep down. Because when you began flirting with a guy, Oscar became protective and somehow scared him away. You knew it was him. Your almost-boyfriend told you later.

“You should stop thinking too,” he suddenly spoke up as he grabbed your chin and forced you to look him in the eye. “I can tell your head is somewhere else.”

“I'm sorry, you're right,” you told him with a sheepish smile.

“What were you thinking about?”

You didn't want to talk about that, not now. You'd been avoiding this topic for a few weeks now, today just wasn't the day to discuss this. So you did the only thing you hoped could avert his thoughts, and pushed him on his back so you could climb on top of him.

And yet, despite the lustful look in his eyes, he kept talking. “That won't work on me, baby, spit it out,” he said with a smirk as his fingers dug into the plush of your thighs. You didn't respond, instead you pulled off your shirt and reached up to unclip your bra as well. “Nice try.”

You leaned down to kiss him again as your fingernails gently scratched the skin of his abdomen under his shirt. At first he played along, his hands began to roam your body between sloppy kisses, but just when you reached down to unbutton his pants, he was quick to stop you.

“I already told you what's going on in my head, it's your turn now. I want to hear it, otherwise there's no way I'm gonna fuck you today, no matter how badly I want to,” he informed you.

With a sigh, you steadied yourself by putting your hands on his shoulders. “It's silly,” you began, hoping he would let it go, but he just raised an eyebrow and listened carefully. “What do you want from… this?” you asked with your fingers moving back on forth between the two of you.

“Having fun,” was all he said in response.

You rolled your eyes at him. “Okay, but if it's nothing more but fun without commitments, why did you chase Aaron away?” Oscar tilted his head to the side as he tried to figure out who you were talking about, but then a quiet ‘oh’ left his lips when he remembered. “Yeah, he told me you talked to him. Look, I just want to understand what this is right now. I really liked that guy.”

Oscar reached up to pull your head closer to his. “You like me more, don't you?” he asked, his lips hovering above yours as he waited for your response. “Say it.”

“Don't ruin my relationships. Please, Oscar, give me the chance to be happy with someone else,” you whispered with a quiet sob.

“I don't want you to be happy with someone else. I want you to be happy with me.”

Did he really not understand? “I want to go out on dates, I want to have a relationship that I can talk about,” you tried to make him understand. It's been a conversation that was a long time coming anyway.

He nodded, seemingly understanding what you meant. “Then let's be more than what we are now. I'm ready to make it official.”

This made you freeze. “I'm not,” you admitted, which made him give you a confused look. “People think I'm just your best friend, yet some of your fans are speculating that I just want to be famous through you. Imagine how much worse it would be if we were together.”

“Ignore them. They're just jealous.” When he saw you weren't convinced, he spoke up again. “If that happens, just remind yourself that I love you,” he said. You couldn't believe your ears. Did he just say that? “I love you. That's what caught your attention, wasn't it? Look, it's complicated, I know, but we'll figure it out. I promise.”

You believed him. There was sincerity in his voice as he spoke, and the kiss he gave you was full of raw emotions. “You always get what you want, don't you?” you asked with a laugh, to which he only replied with a laugh and a nod.

[cumironi]

GOJO : NOWHERE TO BE FOUND! s. geto

☆ sum. is it acceptable to geto when you have him all to yourself but still moping around for gojo who’s away for a mission? absolutely not. but. . . is it acceptable for him to remind you who you are with? absolutely yes. so yeah, gojo is nowhere to be found, while geto? he is between your legs.

warning. established relationship au, poly relationships, pet names, praise, creampied, unprotected sēx, fluff, jealous geto, bear with me please :'), #longfic.

gojo’s version | request by anon.

the morning light seeps through the open door, casting a soft glow around gojo as he stands in front of you, his figure backlit by the gentle sunrise. it almost gives him an ethereal quality, as if he’s already slipping away, and your heart tightens at the thought. the birds are chirping melodiously in the distance, a sound that would normally bring you peace. but today, their song seems too cheerful, a painful contrast to the ache settling in your chest.

you tighten your hold on gojo’s hands, your fingers clinging to his as if you could keep him here just a little longer. the pout on your lips deepens as you gaze up at him, eyes tracing every detail of his face, as though memorizing it for the days you’ll be apart. “how long will you be gone?” you ask quietly, voice laced with the sadness you’re trying to hold back, though it slips through in each word.

gojo’s eyes soften as he looks down at you, a gentle smile tugging at the corner of his lips, though his usual playful spark is subdued. “just a week,” he murmurs, giving your hands a reassuring squeeze, his thumb tracing slow circles over your knuckles. “it’ll fly by, you’ll see.”

“just a week?” you echo, your voice tinged with disbelief. “that’s easy for you to say. for me, it’ll feel like forever.” you give his hands another squeeze, refusing to let go, as if your grip alone could keep him from stepping through that door.

from your side, you hear an exasperated sigh, and you don’t even need to look to know that geto’s standing there, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and mild irritation. “you act like he’s going away for a year,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. “it’s just a week, you’ll survive.”

you shoot him a quick glare, though it’s half-hearted, more a habit than anything, before turning back to gojo, who’s watching the exchange with a hint of amusement in his gaze. “ignore him,” you mumble, a slight whine in your tone. “i just... i don’t like when you’re gone, ’toru. it’s too quiet without you around.”

gojo can’t help but chuckle at your words, his heart warming at the way you look up at him with those pleading eyes and puffed up pout, as if trying to convince him not to leave for the mission— you almost did. “i’m sorry, my sweet,” he murmurs, voice soft and loving, “i wish i didn’t have to go, but you know how it is. duty calls.”

he gives your hands a light squeeze, his thumb brushing against your knuckles in a soothing gesture, trying to comfort you. “but hey, it’s just a week. i’ll be back before you know it.”

geto rolls his eyes at the tenderness in gojo’s voice, his arms remaining crossed as he leans against the doorframe. his expression is a mixture of irritation and mild jealousy. “you’re coddling her too much,” he mutters, a hint of disapproval in his tone. “you know how dramatic she gets every time you leave. and you’re just making it worse by babying her,” he continues.

gojo looks over at geto with a hint of annoyance in his eyes, his grip on your hands tightening ever so slightly. “i’m not coddling her,” he retorts, a slight bite in his tone. “i’m just trying to comfort her. she’s allowed to be upset, you know.” geto just snorts, shaking his head. “yeah, but she acts like you’re leaving for a year every time,” he says, still with that slightly jealous edge, sharp eyes but narrowing without a bite. “it’s ridiculous.”

you ignore geto’s grumbling, his words rolling right off your shoulders as you focus solely on gojo, gaze softening as you look up at him. his eyes, as blue as the sky just starting to lighten behind him, meet yours with that familiar warmth, and you feel your heart squeeze at the thought of him being away, even if just for a week. without another word, you slip your arms around his waist, pressing yourself against him, your cheek resting on the sturdy fabric of his jujutsu uniform.

“can i come with you?” you mumble softly, your voice carrying a hint of hope, though both of you know it’s impossible. there’s a gentle desperation in your words, like if you asked just right, maybe—just maybe—he’d take you along, and you wouldn’t have to spend the next seven days missing him.

gojo’s heart softens at the way you cling to him, and he gut-wrenchingly instinctive lifts his arms to wrap around you, holding you close against him. he looks down at you, a mix of love and guilt in his gaze. his hands run gently through your hair, touch gentle and soothing. “you know i’d love to have you by my side, sweet girl,” he murmurs, his voice laced with a hint of apology, “but it’s too dangerous for you. i can’t take that risk. and i don’t think the higher-ups would like that very much.”

you huff against his chest, your pout only deepening as you snuggle closer, pressing your forehead into his shoulder, now. “well, maybe they need to lighten up,” you grumble, your voice muffled but clear enough to make him laugh again. his laughter vibrates through his chest, and you feel it resonate within you, easing some of the ache of separation you’re already feeling.

gojo can’t help but chuckle at your defiance, finding it endearing, even as he knows you’re just grumbling to get a reaction. he continues to thread his fingers through your hair, the other hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. “they can be a bunch of hardasses, that’s for sure,” he agrees, a hint of amusement in his voice. “but still, i won’t risk your safety, love. i’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you. you know that.”

geto, still leaning against the doorframe, lets out an exaggerated sigh. “love,” he mimics, his voice tinged with mild disgust jealousy as he rolls his eyes, his irritation at the show of affection evident. “you’re nauseating,” he mutters, crossing his arms again, “can you both stop being so damn adorable? god, it’s too early for this.”

before you even get the chance to respond, geto’s hand is on your head, guiding you gently but firmly away from gojo. “alright, that’s enough of the mushy stuff,” he says, his tone carrying a hint of amusement despite his exaggerated annoyance. he pulls you to his side, keeping his hand on top of your head as if to hold you in place, and you can feel the warmth of his touch radiating through your hair.

“ijichi’s waiting,” he adds, his jaw cocks in the direction of the vehicle, and his expression is a blend of impatience and mild exasperation— the car parked a little way down the drive. “you want him to die of old age out there? you two can’t take all day saying goodbye.”

you pout, glancing back at gojo, but geto’s hand keeps you steady, grounding you by his side as he rolls his eyes. he doesn’t let go, his fingers giving a small, almost affectionate pat atop your head. “he’ll be fine,” he assures you, his voice softening ever so slightly, almost as if he’s trying to reassure himself as well.

as the car idles in the driveway, a mischievous glint in your eye despite the lingering sadness. “at least give me a kiss before you go,” you say, tilting your head up at the white-haired man, lips curving into a small pout. your tone is both a plea and a playful demand, as if challenging him to say no.

gojo looks at you with an expression that can only be described as smitten, and he steps closer to you, a fond smirk on his lips. “since you’re being soooo demanding,” he teases, his voice low and honey-sweet. he leans down, one hand coming up to cup your face, and he gently presses his lips against yours, his kiss both gentle and dawdling, as if he’s trying to capture the sweetness of your goodbye.

his other hand finds its way to your waist, gently pulling you closer, and for a brief second, it feels like time has stopped. his touch is soft and gentle but a silent reassurance, filled with a promise to come back to you. “happy now?” he whispers against your lips as he pulls away, his thumb brushing across your cheek. there’s a twinkle in his eye, as if he’s savoring the look on your face.

before you can respond, geto lets out an exaggerated groan from behind. “ugh, enough with the romance already,” he grumbles, though there’s a hint of amusement in his tone as he rolls his eyes. “we get it—you’re both madly in love.”

with a final glance at you, gojo laughs, shooting geto a smirk. “take care of her for me, alright?” he says, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “yeah, yeah,” geto sighs, grabbing you by the shoulders and gently steering you away from gojo. “now, get out of here before i have to witness another heartwarming moment.”

you can’t help but roll your eyes, even as geto holds you firmly by his side. “don’t act like you’re not gonna miss him too,” you tease, glancing up at him. geto scoffs, but there’s a soft smile playing at his lips. “just get inside,” he mutters, guiding you back into the house once gojo is gone, but his hold on you is gentle, as if he’s quietly reassuring you that he’s here, ready to keep you company until gojo returns.

as you make your way back into the house, geto keeps his hands on your shoulders, steering you away from the door and into the living room. a part of you wants to turn back, to catch one last glimpse of gojo before he leaves, but you resist the urge, knowing it would only make the parting more difficult.

he guides you to the sofa, gently pushing you down to sit, before taking a seat beside you. geto is characteristically quiet, his expression a mix of annoyance and... something else you can comfortably decipher— jealousy. the air in the room is heavy with an unspoken tension. geto is silently gazing into space, his thoughts seemingly far away. you glance at him, your gaze lingering on his profile.

the sunlight streaming through the windows casts a warm glow on his features, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the slight furrow of his brow. he’s always been handsome, you’ve known that from the day you met him, but in this light, he’s almost unfairly beautiful. after a brief pause, he finally speaks, his voice low and strangely serious. “you’re too clingy, y’know,” he mutters, not looking at you.

you pout, sink into the couch, letting out a sigh. “i just miss him,” you murmur, your voice a bit quieter, softer. “he’s been going on missions non-stop lately. it’s like the moment he’s back, they send him off again.”

your gaze drops to your hands resting in your lap, fingers fidgeting with the fabric of your sleeve as you try to make sense of the mix of emotions welling up inside. the frustration, the loneliness, the worry—each time he leaves, it feels like a piece of you goes with him. you want him safe and sound here, not off somewhere you can’t reach him.

geto sighs, his annoyance melting into a softer, more understanding expression. he glances at you for a moment, his eyes scanning your face, and he can almost feel your worry and frustration mirrored in his own heart.

“i know,” he murmurs, his voice unexpectedly gentle. “it sucks, huh? they treat him like he’s invincible, sending him on one mission after another. it’s like the higher-ups forget that he has someone waiting for him at home.”

the words hang in the air, lingering with an unwelcome sense of truth. you can hear the undercurrent of frustration and worry in geto’s voice, something he rarely allows himself to show. he looks at you, his gaze, drowning in nothing bot love for you. “he’ll come back,” he says firmly, as if trying to convince himself as much as you. “he’s gojo. you know he can take care of himself.”

the warmth of geto’s voice, with its steady reassurance, settles into your heart. but then he whispers, “come here,” his tone softer than before, and before you can process it, he pulls you into his arms, his embrace gentle but firm. he shifts, bringing you both down to lie on the couch, his arms circling you securely, as if protecting you from your own worry.

you let out a sigh, the tension slowly melting away as you rest your head against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. it’s calming, grounding, and in this quiet moment, it feels like everything might actually be okay. you wrap your arm around his waist, clinging to him as if he’s the anchor keeping you steady— like how he is.

the silence is filled only by the sound of his heartbeat beneath your ear, strong and reassuring. he gently strokes your hair, his hand moving in slow, soothing motions, and you find yourself relaxing more with each breath. it’s not rare for him to show this side of himself, the part that isn’t just strength or sharp words, but softness and quiet care when it comes to you.

“he’ll come back, love,” geto murmurs again, his voice almost a whisper, a shape of promising for you and himself at the same time. “and until then… i’m here. so don’t worry so much.”

a faint smile tugs at your lips, and you nuzzle into his chest, letting his warmth surround you. “thank you, sugu’,” you say softly, your words muffled against him but carrying all the gratitude you feel. he doesn’t respond right away, but his arm tightens around you slightly, as if that’s answer enough.

geto holds you close, his fingers continuing to run through your hair, the motion soothing for both of you. he can feel your body relax in his arms, the tension slowly dissipating as you melt into him.

he takes a deep breath, still trying to control the swirl of emotions inside him. the words he wants to say linger on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows them back, keeping them locked away for now. “try to get back to sleep, love, it still morning,” he murmurs, nuzzling his nose into your hair. “i’m not going anywhere.”

you don’t say a word, letting the warmth of his quiet presence surround you. instead, you shift slightly, reaching for his hand, your fingers finding his. without a second thought, you intertwine them, feeling the familiar strength and roughness of his hand against yours. it’s a simple gesture, but it carries all the things you’re too tired to put into words — the trust, the comfort, the gratitude.

geto’s fingers close around yours, and for a brief moment, he gives your hand a gentle squeeze, as if to tell you he understands. his thumb brushes over your knuckles, a soft, grounding touch, and you feel a small part of the heaviness lift from your heart. you close your eyes, letting the steady rhythm of his breathing and the warmth of his embrace calm the lingering worry.

he leans his head down, pressing a feather-light kiss to the top of your head, lips remain there as if to say, i’m here. “you are such a baby,” he teased, despite the jealousy burning inside his heart. geto tries to keep his voice light, the tease gently masking the more complicated feelings swirling beneath the surface. he feels the weight of your body against his, the way you cling to him, seeking comfort and reassurance. and as much as he tries to hide it, he revels in it, the feeling of having you close, needing him.

but there’s also a pang of jealousy gnawing at him still, a bitter taste in his mouth he tries to swallow back. he doesn’t want to think about gojo, about how he’s getting more of your affection than usual.

“always so needy,” he murmurs, his tone a mixture of fondness and annoyance, “and so clingy. can’t even handle a week alone.” he let out a soft huff at your clinginess, his eyes studying your face, the expression on your face so open, so at peace, that he can’t help feeling just the smallest twinge of possessiveness.

you’re his right now.

you tilt your head up to look at him, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “oh, please, babe,” you whisper, the playful lilt in your voice matching his tease, “if it were you going on missions all the time, i’d be just as clingy. maybe even worse.” your words are light, but there’s a flicker of honesty in your gaze, and geto can see it, feel it in the way you hold him a little tighter.

for a moment, he doesn’t respond. his eyes search yours, and the soft teasing mask he usually wears slips, just a little. the warmth in his expression, mixed with something deeper, tells you he understands, even if he’d never admit to feeling the same. he reaches out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering there.

“oh, so you’re saying you’d actually miss me?” he murmurs, a hint of challenge in his tone, but there’s a gentleness there, too— an unspoken desire for that closeness, for you to need him the way you need gojo.

you roll your eyes, pretending to scoff as you press closer against him. “obviously,” you reply, your voice dropping to a whisper, “maybe i’d even be... clingy.” the word is playful, but it carries a certain weight, a confession you both understand without having to say it.

geto’s eyes darkened slightly as he feels your body pressing closer to his, your words sending a shiver down his spine. he can’t help the way his heart clenches, the pang of jealousy mixed with a desperate need for you to want him instead, to cling to him instead.

he lets out a scoff, his voice low and filled with a mixture of annoyance and desire. “clingy?” he repeats, “you are clingy. all the time. you just can’t seem to keep your hands off me.” he moves his hand, untangling it from yours to gently grab your chin, desperate for you to look up at him, for those eye-contact. his eyes are a hue of violet, almost intense, as they meet yours, a small smirk on his lips. “always all over me, like a little leech,” he continues, his words a mixture of teasing and honesty.

he studies your face, a mixture of irritation and affection in his dark eyes. “you’re always glued to me, sticking like a damn limpet. seems like you can’t even handle a few moments apart without clinging to someone.”

his tone is as sharp as ever, but there’s an edge of protectiveness that betrays his concern, his possessiveness, and geto, is for sure diving for validation from you. he keeps his hold on your chin, not willing to let you look away, not right now. “it’s annoying,” he mutters, the words not carrying the irritation they should, giving your chin a little squeeze.

you don’t bother with a reply, letting your actions speak louder than words. shifting even closer, you nuzzle against his chest, letting your nose brush against the soft fabric of his shirt. a quiet hum escapes you as you tangle your legs with his, wrapping yourself around him like he’s the only thing anchoring you. if he wanted to tease you for being clingy, you’d prove just how right he was.

your response, the way you cling to him with every fiber of your being, it’s both satisfying and frustrating. a deep, possessive part of him relishes in the way you’ve wrapped yourself around him; it’s exactly what he wants. but another part of him, the part that’s still struggling with jealousy, it’s a stark reminder of how he isn’t your first choice. gojo gets all your sweet words and loving gazes, while he’s left with the scraps of your affection.

a frustrated sigh escapes his lips.

geto’s hand is still on your chin, but his grip loosens slightly, as though taken off guard by how naturally you mold yourself to him. his gaze softens, the teasing sharpness in his eyes dimming just a bit as he takes in the sight of you — nestled against him, as if you truly can’t bear even the smallest distance between you. his fingers trace along your jaw, down to your shoulder, finally settling at the small of your back, holding you just as close.

a soft sigh slips from him, his hand firm and warm on your back, as if he’s accepted his role as your personal anchor, whether he likes it or not. he doesn’t say anything, but you can feel the subtle shift in his posture, the way he settles into the embrace, his other hand resting against your tangled legs, as though to keep you even closer— as if it’s even possible.

in the quiet of the moment, with your legs intertwined and your face nestled against him, you feel his heart beating steadily beneath your cheek. there’s no need for words; the tension fades, replaced by a silent understanding that neither of you wants to break this closeness. his hand resumes its gentle, absent-minded strokes along your back, a gesture both protective and tender.

“so much for needing space,” he murmurs softly, his voice barely above a whisper, but there’s a hint of warmth behind it— a warmth that feels almost like an unspoken confession.

he continues to hold you, his grip tightening almost imperceptibly, as if he’s holding onto you tighter than before, desperate to became one. he can feel the warmth of your breath on his chest, the way your body presses against him, the way you’ve wrapped yourself around him like a clinging vine.

he can’t deny the way it makes him feel— the possessive need to keep you close, the satisfaction in knowing that you’re choosing him now, in this moment. he pushes the intrusive thoughts of gojo away, focusing only on the feeling of you against him.

geto’s grip tightens as he holds you close, feeling that satisfying warmth seep into his chest as you cling to him with every bit of yourself. there’s a certain possessive satisfaction in knowing you’re nestled against him so naturally, as if it’s where you belong. it’s exactly what he wants, and for a moment, he lets himself believe it’s all his.

but it wasn’t last long, few second of faith and the familiar ache starts creeping back in, that unshakable jealousy lurking beneath the surface. the reminder that, despite this closeness, he still isn’t the one who occupies your thoughts most of the time. gojo gets your smiles, your sweet glances, and sometimes it feels like he’s just here to fill the spaces left behind.

his hand on your back stills for a second as he tries to quell the frustration bubbling up within him. he lets out a soft sigh, his gaze softening as he takes in your peaceful expression against his chest. he’s just about to release that jealousy, to accept that maybe, just maybe, this moment could belong to him.

then, you speak.

“how long is ’toru’s flight?” your voice is soft, almost hesitant but still leak with the same longing, “do you think i can call him soon?”

your words cut through him sharper than he expects, and for a moment, he can’t mask the flash of hurt that crosses his face. he pulls back just enough to look at you, searching your expression for any sign that this is some sort of joke— but there’s only genuine curiosity in your eyes. it’s as though the thought of gojo is always there, lingering on the edge of your mind, even when you’re wrapped up in his arms.

“thinking about him again, huh?” he murmurs, a bitter edge sneaking into his voice. his hand loosens slightly on your back, his thumb tracing a faint, absent-minded pattern along your shoulder as he tries to keep himself composed when he nearly going spiral from the unbound jealousy. it’s a small gesture, but it betrays the tension he’s trying so hard to hide. “can’t go a moment without wondering about him?”

the words are quiet, almost more to himself than to you, as if he’s not sure he even wants an answer. he knows it’s unfair, knows he’s being unreasonable— but he can’t deny the sting, the way your question pulls him back to that reality where he’s still second in your heart even though it was all his insecurity.

he takes a steadying breath, closing his eyes for a moment before he speaks again, his tone softer this time, though there’s a faint trace of melancholy lingering beneath it. “gojo’s flight… should be landing in two hour or so,” he answers, finally looking down at you with a resigned smile, the kind that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “you’ll be able to talk to him soon enough.”

but even as he says it, his arms still slide back around you, holding you close with a renewed sense of determination. because if this is all he can have, if these fleeting moments are all that belong to him, then he’ll take them. his hand resumes its gentle strokes along your back, his touch firm and always tender, grounding himself in this closeness that he knows he’ll have to let go of eventually.

geto shifts on the couch, his movements slow and deliberate as he gently lays you down against the cushions. he hovers over you, one hand braced beside you, the other coming to rest softly against your cheek. his gaze is intense, filled with something raw and unspoken, and for a moment, he just looks at you, his thumb brushing tenderly over your skin.

“stop thinking about him,” he murmurs, his voice a low whisper, almost a plea. “i’m here. not satoru. right here, with you.”

the words are quiet, but there’s a weight to them, a vulnerability that he rarely lets show unless it’s needed— which is, often. his fingers trace along your jaw, grounding you in the moment, anchoring you to him alone. his eyes search yours, looking for any hint that you understand— that maybe, just this once, you’ll let go of gojo’s hold on your thoughts and give yourself completely to him.

“i need you to see me, too,” he continues, his tone softening, almost breaking. “just me.”

his hand slips to the small of your back for hundred times, pulling you closer, his face inches from yours as he holds your gaze. there’s something possessive in the way he looks at you, a quiet desperation mingling with the need in his eyes. he leans in, his lips ghosting over yours, barely touching as if he’s giving you the chance to close the distance— to show him that you want this, that you want him.

but instead, you hum softly, your fingers finding their way to his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw as you meet his gaze with a knowing smile. there’s a glimmer of playfulness in your eyes, and you can feel his breath hitch as you lean just a little closer.

“you’re always so jealous of satoru,” you tease, voice laced with gentle amusement, a slight tilt to your smile that says you know exactly what kind of effect you have on him.

a flicker of irritation flashes in his eyes, but it’s tempered by the warmth lingering there, an exasperation softened by how much he cares. his hand tightens on your waist, a gentle but firm reminder of his presence. he’s almost pouting now, his brow furrowing slightly as if trying to find the words to deny it— but he doesn’t.

“you know,” he murmurs, voice low and almost a little sulky, “you make it really hard not to be.” his thumb brushes over your hip, his other hand cupping the side of your face, his touch, like a glue, stick around like he’s savoring every moment. “i just... i just want you to look at me that way too.”

there’s a softness now, a vulnerability barely hidden beneath the usual confidence. his fingers trail along your jaw, and his eyes search yours, almost pleading, even as his lips curl into a slight smirk. “but if you keep teasing me like that,” he whispers, leaning in until his lips are a breath away from yours, “i might just have to make sure you only think about me.”

“oh? promise, promise,” you teased.

geto lets out a scoff at your teasing tone, the sound caught between mockery and affection. he leans closer, his eyes darkening slightly as he meets your taunting expression, the hint of playfulness in your gaze only fuelling the possessive fire inside him.

“oh, you want me to promise?” he murmurs, his voice low and edged with a quiet challenge. “you want me to prove it?” his hand slides down to your waist, his grip firm as he pulls you closer, closing the distance between you. his lips graze yours, a tantalisingly whisper of a touch.

“you really think i won’t?” he murmurs against your lips, his hot breath sending a jolt of shudder in your being. “that i can’t make you forget about that idiot satoru?”

he gently pushes you deepened, back against the couch, leaning over you with a possessiveness that’s verging on territorial. his hand slides up your side, coming to rest just beneath your chin, tilting your face up towards him. his eyes burn with a quiet intensity, a mixture of irritation and desire.

“i can make you forget your own name, if i wanted,” he whispers, his thumb gently tracing your bottom lip, gently tracing the contour, his gaze locked on yours as if he’s memorizing every detail. his voice is low and rough, and there’s a possessive edge to it that makes your heart skip a beat.

“i could make you obsessed with me, if i tried hard enough,” he continues, his lips hovering a breath away from yours, like he is playing game who’s going to kiss first before move down to your neck, his body pressing against you in a way that feels almost predatory. “just you and me, all alone, no one else. i’m not like satoru, y’know,” he murmurs, “and i don’t want to be.” he leans in deeper, lips just barely grazing the skin of your neck. “i don’t want to share you, i don’t want to have to compete with him for your attention. i want you to be mine, and mine alone.”

he leans down deeper, his lips tracing a path along the length of your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses as he slowly descends. he finds that spot right behind your ear, the one that makes you shiver, and he lingers there for a moment, his tongue gently teasing the sensitive skin.

he nibbles softly, just enough to drive you wild before pulling back, a smug smirk on his lips as he returns his attention to your face. “you’ll have no choice but to think of me.”

a breathless sigh escapes you, fingers curling around his shoulder as he holds you beneath him, his lips still searing a path down your neck. every soft kiss, every teasing graze of his teeth against your skin, it all makes your chest feel tight, your heart pounding with the intensity of his touch.

“a little too late for that, don’t you think?” you whisper, voice barely above a murmur, eyes simmering with a playful, daring gleam. your words carry a note of surrender, as if admitting that he’s already woven himself too deeply into your thoughts, filling every corner of your mind in a way that’s both thrilling and terrifying. he is already woven into something complicated, tangled up with you and gojo for years, making it impossible for him to truly claim you as his alone now.

a sharp pang of possessiveness jolts through geto as you whisper those words. he pauses in his trail of kisses, his breath warm against your skin as he pulls back just enough to look at you. his eyes are dark, almost possessive as he holds your gaze, a flicker of irritation and arousal swirling in his expression.

“too late, huh?” he murmurs back, his voice edged with a soft growl. “i don’t like that answer. doesn’t sound like you’re all mine, yet.” he leans in again, his lips meeting yours in a fierce kiss that’s all possession. he kisses you like he’s trying to prove something, teeth nipping at your bottom lip as his hands slide down to your hips, holding you still against the couch.

when he finally pulls back, his breath is coming in ragged gasps, his gaze still intense as he looks down at you. “i’ll make you mine,” he whispers against your mouth, his voice firm, almost a promise. “i’ll make you forget everything else. satoru, anyone else. just me.”

in split second, geto have you gasp as you’re suddenly straddling his lap, his lips capturing yours in a possessive kiss, his teeth tugging at your bottom lip for the second time. the intensity of his hold makes your breath hitch, but you quickly regain your composure. as he pulls back, you push his face away with a teasing smirk, eyes gleaming mischievously.

“again with your sadistic strike,” you murmur, voice light and playful despite the heat between you both. you tilt your head, amused by how easily he falls into this possessive role, your fingers lightly tracing along his jaw as you continue to tease him. “you’re really not giving up, are you?”

geto lets out a scoff as you push him away, a mix of irritation and desire flashing in his eyes as he looks up at you, straddling his lap. he can feel the heat between you, the way your body responds to his touch, and it only fuels the possessive fire within him.

“not giving up?” he repeats, his voice edged with a rough edge. “you’re damn right i’m not. you think i’m gonna just let you keep thinking about him when i’m right here?” he grips your hips a little harder, pulling you closer and grinding against you in a way that makes your breath hitch. he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he continues, his voice low and dangerous.

“i’ll do whatever it takes to make you forget about him. you’ll be screaming my name before the night is through, i promise you that.”

second thought is far away in the back of his head, and geto pulled his cock out from the sweatpants he wore— already hard and throbbing— pre-cum leaking from the swollen tip, red and angry, like how he is. his other neat-handed hand is lifting the only oversized t-shirt you’ve had wearing and your little lace panties filling his violet hue pupils. his index finger poking the fabric aside, and, in one push, his cock was already deep inside you.

a deep, rumble groans tears from his chest, having the raven-haired man throws his head back against the cushion while you gasp from the sudden feeling of fullness inside your cunt— both feeling like a cloud nine just drape its hands on you both, making cocoon of pleasure. your nails dig into his broad shoulders, clutching the fabric of his shirt.

geto’s hands grip your hips ever tightly, holding you still as he savors the feeling of being buried deep inside you. he can feel your walls clenching around him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you adjust to his size— every single fucking time. a low groan rumbles in his chest, his breathing heavy with barely restrained lust and flame of jealousy.

he tilts his head, looking up at you with those intense purple eyes, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. “that’s it, take every inch of me,” he purrs, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction. “this is where you belong, wrapped around my cock like you were made for it.” one hand slides up your side, under the oversized shirt, caressing the smooth skin of your stomach and ribcage. his other hand remains firmly gripping your hip, keeping you impaled on his thick length.

you moan softly, your body relaxing the way geto’s hand glides over your skin, sending shivers down your spine like twinkling stars dancing around your skin. the sensation of being so deeply filled, stretched to your limits, is almost overwhelming. you bite your lip, trying to stifle the sounds of pleasure that threaten to spill free.

you look down at geto, seeing the raw hunger in his gaze, and it sends a shiver down your spine. his words, laced with possessiveness and dominance, make your cunt throb around him. your hands slide up to tangle in his hair, tugging gently as you lean down to capture his lips in a searing kiss. tongue tied, a heady mix of arousal and something uniquely geto. breaking the kiss, you nip at his bottom lip before whispering hotly in his ear, “don’t move yet, baby. let me feel you for a moment.”

a guttural growl escapes geto’s throat at your whispered command, his hips twitching involuntarily as he struggles to obey. unlike gojo, geto is a man of patience and a single words coming from you, he will bent down and fighting his will to do as you say— even when his cock buried deep inside your perfect, beautiful cunt he is nearly explode. he wants nothing more than to start thrusting into you, to claim you with every fiber of his being. but the need to please you, to surrender control to your whim, overrides his own desires.

“fuck,” he mutters under his breath, his forehead pressing against yours as he tries to calm his racing heart. “you’re killing me, you know that?”

his hand tightens on your hip while the other grasps a fistful of your breast, the only part of him not trembling with restraint. he can feel the pulse of your heartbeat, the subtle rise and fall of your chest as you breathe, and it’s intoxicating, really. being still, being patient, feels foreign to him—but for you, he’d endure anything.

after what feels like an eternity, he manages a strained nod.

a sight of his struggle nod bring a satisfied smile curves your lips as you watch geto struggle to maintain his self-control, even if it’s clearly costing him. you press a gentle kiss to his temple, savoring the warmth of his skin beneath your lips. the tension in his body palpable. you can practically feel the heat radiating off him, the primal urge to claim you, to dominate and possess. it’s intoxicating, addicting knowing you have such power over him.

“good boy,” you praise softly, your voice dripping with affection. you lean in, nuzzling your nose against his, inhaling the scent of his skin, musky and masculine. “i love watching you try to rein it in,” you murmur, your voice husky with desire, “it’s so sexy, seeing you fight for control.”

geto’s chest rises and falls rapidly as he fights to maintain his composure, his body thrumming with pent-up energy. the praise from your lips sends a jolt straight to his cock, making it twitch within you. he grits his teeth, trying to focus on the sensations you’re evoking rather than giving in to the overwhelming impulse to move.

your hand trails down his chest, over the ridges of his abs, until you reach the hem of his shirt, tugging the material upward, a silent command to banish the material, exposing his toned torso to your appreciative gaze, and geto lets out a low hiss. his abs flex beneath your fingertips, the defined muscles a testament to his strength and dedication. he knows every dip and curve of your body, has worshipped them with his mouth and hands, and the knowledge fills him with pride.

“you’ve got no idea,” he rasps, his voice strained with effort, “how much i want to fuck you senseless right now.”

a pleased hum vibrates in your throat at geto’s admission, your fingers dancing across his exposed skin, tracing the lines of his muscles. you lean in, placing open-mouthed kisses along his collarbone, tasting the salt of his sweat. the confession ignites a fire within you, your inner walls clenching around his thickness. “what’s with the rush?” you murmur, your voice a sultry purr, “we have all week for ourselves, no need to take things too fast.”

your fingers trace the lines of his chiseled abdomen, marveling at the sheer power coiled beneath his skin. you can feel the heat emanating from him, the raw energy simmering just below the surface. it’s exhilarating, knowing you have the power to unravel him completely. “let’s just enjoy this together,” you continue, hands roam lower, squeezing his muscular thighs as you grind against him, your clit kissing his pelvis. you nip at his neck, leaving a trail of love bites as you mark him as yours, tearing a low, animalistic groan rumbles in his chest, follow you. the air is thick with tension, the promise of unbridled passion hanging precariously balanced.

the possessive act sends a surge of heat straight to his groin, his balls drawing up tight. he can feel the coil of tension building within him, the warning signs of an impending release.

with that, you begin to slowly rock your hips, rolling them in a slow, sensual rhythm. each movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through your veins, your inner walls fluttering around geto’s thick length. you keep your pace deliberate and controlled, not wanting to overwhelm him, but instead coaxing him deeper into the blissful haze of lust and possession.

geto’s entire body shudders at the first deliberate roll of your hips, his cock throbbing in response. the sensation of your slick heat enveloping him, combined with the erotic dance of your grinding, is nearly unbearable. he clenches his jaw, fighting the urge to buck wildly into you, to lose himself in the primal need to claim you utterly. “fuuuck, baby,” he gasps, his voice strained, “you’re going to be the death of me.”

----

your hips continue their languid undulations, each movement designed to tease and tantalize, to draw out the exquisite pleasure for both of you. you can feel geto’s resolve crumbling, his body tensing, straining for release. the thought sends a thrill through you, knowing you hold such power over him.

you lean back slightly, changing the angle of your connection, allowing geto's thick length to brush against your sensitive spots with each roll of your hips. a soft moan escapes your lips as the new position sends sparks of pleasure shooting through you. your fingers dig into the firm shoulder, urging him to meet your movements, to sink deeper into your welcoming heat. “fuuuck,” you whimper, your voice a husky whisper, “hold me, baby.”

geto’s arms wrap around you instinctively, pulling you flush against his heaving chest. he cradles you close, his large hands splayed across your back, fingers digging into the supple flesh. the intimate contact only fuels the growing urgency between you, his hardness pressing insistently against your softer curves.

geto meets each roll with a slow, deliberate thrust of his own, driving into you with measured strokes. his breath hitches in his throat, a low growl building in his chest as he loses himself in the rhythmic dance of pleasure.

“god, you feel incredible,” he pants against your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “so fucking perfect, so fucking beautiful.” his words are a heated promise, a vow to cherish and worship every inch of your body as he makes love to you.

a contented sigh escapes your lips as geto’s strong arms enfold you, holding you securely against his solid form. the feeling of being cherished, adored, and desired washes over you, filling you with a profound sense of belonging. you melt into his embrace, your body molding to his as if you were made to fit together perfectly.

geto’s deep, rumbling words send tingles down your spine, his praise and devotion igniting a fierce passion within you. you tilt your head back, offering your mouth to his, and he claims it in a searing kiss— it was intimate, warm and gentle. the taste of him, the feel of his tongue exploring your depths, sets your very soul ablaze.

breaking the kiss, you gaze up at him, your eyes shimmering with adoration and lust. “i love you, suguru,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper, forehead bound against his.

geto’s eyes darken with emotion as he looks down at you, his face etched with tender adoration. a soft, choked sound escapes him, somewhere between a laugh and a sob, as he pulls you impossibly closer.

“i love you too, my beautiful girl,” he murmurs, his voice thick with sentiment. geto’s heart swells, his love for you burning brighter than ever before. he captures your lips once more, pouring all his devotion and longing into the passionate kiss. the kiss tender and loving, a sweet expression of the depth of his feelings for you. his tongue delves deeply, savoring the sweetness of your mouth as he loses himself in the tender intimacy of the moment.

as you break apart, geto gazes down at you with an expression of pure adoration, his purple eyes shimmering undeniable love and happiness. slowly, deliberately, geto begins to move within you again, his thrusts slower now, more measured, as if savoring every moment of your intimate connection. he rocks into you with a soothing rhythm, the subtle undulation of his hips sending waves of pleasure rippling through your core.

“we’re home, aren’t we?” he whispers against your lips, his breath mingling with yours. his hands slide down to cup your ass, kneading the supple flesh as he deepens the embrace.

tears prick at the corners of your eyes as geto professes his love, the sincerity and depth of his emotions overwhelming you. you cling to him, your fingers threading through his hair as you press your lips to his, relishing in the tender affection he pours into the kiss.

when you finally part, you rest your forehead against his, basking in the warmth of his presence, the comforting beat of his heart against your own. “yes, we’re home, we are always home,” you agree softly, a contented smile playing on your lips. “right here, with you.”

geto’s renewed lovemaking is a symphony of slow, sensual movements, each deliberate stroke stoking the flames of your desire. his heartbeat syncs with yours, a powerful drumbeat that resonates deep within your soul. he gazes at you with unabashed adoration, his purple eyes drinking in every detail of your radiant beauty— from the sparkling tears clinging to your lashes to the blissful curve of your lips. in this moment, he knows he would move heaven and earth to keep you safe, to make you happy.

you arch into him, meeting his thrusts with eager rolls of your hips, the friction sending sparks of pleasure dancing along your nerve endings, having geto’s breath catches in his throat. the way you welcome him, the eagerness with which you meet his thrusts, ignites a wildfire of passion within him. his grip on your hips tightens, fingers digging into your skin as he loses himself in the erotic dance of your bodies.

“fucking perfection,” he groans, his voice raw with desire. his grip on your ass tightens as you meet his movements with equal fervor, his control wavering under the onslaught of your passion. the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by your mutual gasps and moans of pleasure.

he breaks the intimate seal of your foreheads, instead burying his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply as he nips and kisses a trail down to your collarbone. geto’s hot breath fans over your sensitive skin, sending shivers coursing through you.

“mine,” he growls, the word a possessive declaration as he marks you with small, open-mouthed kisses. “all mine, forever and always.” geto’s hands roam your body, mapping the curves he knows so well, his touch reverent and hungry all at once.

your body trembles beneath geto's intense ministrations, every nip and kiss sending electric jolts straight to your core. the possessive growl vibrating against your skin, coupled with his fervent declarations, only serves to heighten your arousal. you feel owned, treasured, and utterly consumed by this man who holds your heart in the palm of his hand.

reaching up, you tangle your fingers in geto’s silky locks, guiding his head back to capture your lips in a searing kiss— his lips, oh, you could never have enough of his lips on yours. the clash of tongues, the battle for dominance, is a thrilling prelude to the explosive climax you both crave. breaking away, you pant heavily, your chest heaving against his. “i’m close,” you mumble, your voice husky with need.

geto’s eyes blaze with unbridled hunger as he watches you writhe on top of him, your desperate pleas music to his ears. he can feel your walls fluttering around him, tightening with each thrust, signaling your impending release. with a feral snarl, he redoubles his efforts, pounding into you with relentless ferocity.

his hands find purchase on your thighs, spreading them wider to accommodate his punishing pace. the lewd slap of flesh echoes through the room, a primal soundtrack to your frenzied coupling. geto’s breathing grows ragged, his vision tunneling until all he sees is you— your flushed cheeks, your pleading eyes, the exquisite contours of your body as it yields to his possession.

“you’re mine,” he rasps, his voice a guttural animalistic growl. “never forget it.” overwhelmed by the intensity of geto’s lovemaking, you can barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words. your mind goes blank, replaced by a haze of white-hot pleasure that consumes every fiber of your being. each brutal thrust sends shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through your veins, threatening to shatter you into a million pieces.

geto’s dominant claim, spoken with such raw, primal authority, snaps the last threads of your self-control. a scream rips from your throat as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your inner muscles clamping down on geto’s pulsing length in rhythmic spasms. stars burst and your head spinning, and you’re certain the room spins, but all you can focus on is the overwhelming sensation of release.

as the aftershocks ebb, you collapse against geto, your body limp and spent. your legs trembling on his lap. “fuuuck, i’m cumming,” and geto follows shortly after, letting out a guttural roar as your velvet walls milk him dry. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his hot breath puffing against your sweat-dampened skin as he fights to regain his composure.

panting heavily, geto refuse to extricates himself from your cunt, so instead he collapses onto his back on the couch pulling you into his arms. his touch gentle and tender, having you nestle into the comfort of his embrace, your body still humming with the afterglow of your shared passion. he nuzzles into your hair, savoring the intoxicating mix of your scent and the lingering traces of their shared passion.

“i love you so much,” he murmurs, his voice rough with satisfaction. the sound of his voice, hoarse and satisfied, rings like a soothing melody in your ears as he whispers those three words. geto peppers feather-light kisses across your forehead, your closed eyelids, the tip of your nose, each one a silent vow of eternal devotion.

gently, he strokes your hair, his fingers tangling in the silken strands as he holds you close. you bask in the soothing sensation of his fingers raking through your hair, each stroke a soft, intimate caress that ignites a wave of warmth and contentment within you. your chest heaves against his, breaths coming in short, laboured gasps as you both try to recover from the raw intensity of their passion.

you can feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath your hands, the way his body trembles slightly from the residue. “i love you, too,” you murmur back, your voice soft and reverent, barely above a whisper.

still joined together, geto’s arms wrap firmly around your waist, pulling you close as he shifts, finding more comfortable position against the couch and settling you on top of him. his embrace is steady, his touch lingering, as if he never wants to let go. you rest against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath you, its warmth radiating through every inch of you.

he runs his hands slowly up and down your back, still covered with your shirt, tracing gentle, soothing patterns as he holds you close. the room is silent, save for the soft sounds of breath and the steady rhythm of geto’s heart beating beneath you. his fingers continue their tender journey across your back, tracing invisible patterns and sending warm shivers down your spine.

he presses a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your head, his arms holding you closer, a silent declaration of his unwavering love. you snuggle into his chest, your body perfectly molding into him as you bask in the comfort of his embrace.

geto’s hand pauses for a moment on your back, and a playful smirk tugs at his lips. he tilts his head down to look at you, his eyes gleaming with that familiar, mischievous spark. “think you’ve finally forgotten about satoru now?” he murmurs, his voice a soft tease as he leans closer, his breath warm against your ear. his fingers resume their gentle path, tracing soothing patterns along your spine, as if grounding you in this moment with him.

before you can respond, he presses another kiss to your forehead, holding you even tighter. “good,” he whispers against your skin, “because i plan on making sure you don’t have a single thought left for anyone but me.”

you roll your eyes, a smirk tugging at your lips as you lift your head to meet his gaze. “not yet,” you tease, voice laced with a playful challenge, sitting up abruptly before taking your shirt off— your breast on full display to your boyfriend’s eyes. a soft thud could be heard once the material landed somewhere.

geto lets out a low, appreciative whistle as you take off your shirt, his gaze darkening impossibly as he takes in the sight of your bare skin. he can’t help the way his eyes roam over your curves, a mixture of hunger and raw desire flashing across his face.

his hands slide to your hips, his touch firm and possessive as he pulls you closer, forcing you to straddle his waist. he leans back against the couch— prop his elbows, his expression intense, his eyes burning with a mixture of desire and determination.

his lips part, breathing a wee bit heavy as he looks up at you through hooded eyes, “not yet, huh?” he echoed back to you, voice a little rougher than before, his gaze heated and intensely focused on your perky nipples, “oh, you’re not making this easy on me, you know, baby?” he growls, his voice a low, husky promise. the sound low and deep in his throat, as if he’s struggling to control himself.

a mischievous glint sparks in your eyes as you hum softly, trailing your hands down his bare chest, fingers tracing over the lines of his muscles with teasing slowness. “i thought you were going to make sure i forgot about ‘toru,” you murmur, voice laced with playful defiance. you tilt your head, meeting his darkened gaze with a smirk.

“because, honestly, right now…” you pause, leaning in closer, your lips a mere breath away from his. “my mind’s still pretty full of my beloved ‘toru, and he’s all i can think about,” you tease, each word a deliberate challenge.

geto’s grip on your hips tightens, his eyes narrowing as he lets out a low, rumbling chuckle, the sound full of dark amusement. “is that so?” he mutters, his voice now a dangerously low whisper. “guess i’m not trying hard enough, then.” his hands slide up, fingers grazing your skin in a way that sends shivers down your spine, as his gaze turns sharp and possessive.

without warning, he pulls you even closer, his lips brushing over yours in a tantalizing, barely-there kiss. “let’s see if i can change that, hm?” he challenges, his eyes locked on yours with unwavering intensity, daring you to hold on to the thought of anyone else but him.

lifting you effortlessly off the couch and carrying you to the nearby window seat. they way he hold you, you can feel the possessive strength in his grip. the cool glass presses against your front as geto settles you onto the hard surface, his hard length still nestled inside you. the change in position allows him to delve even deeper, his pelvis grinding against yours as he starts to move once more.

geto buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as he nips and licks at the delicate skin. “one way or another, you will forget satoru even exists for a whole fucking week, i’ll make sure of that,” he grumbles on your skin, hips one after another start to thrust into your cunt. big hand grip a fistful of your hair, face push to the hard surface while his other hand kissing your ass, harder each kiss. no gentleness, no tenderness like earlier, only a maddening, desperate thrust to drive his point dick to your brain.

and when geto says something, he means it.