#my favorite painting in the entire world

[proodence]

I'm rewatching Alex Rider for like the 7th time but with my boyfriend and guys season 2 is so fucking good SEASON 2 IS SOOO GOOD

Alex being such a cheeky brat with the department and Alan Blunt losing his mind because Alex is being so clever and annoying

The slowly building mystery with all the pieces that gradually come together

Alex and Kyra being so cute with the washer and "survivors club" and "keeping score" of who has saved each other's life the most (and the end scene where he's looking up at her from the stage🥹😭)

Jack having her own storyline that actually serves the story and gives her character a purpose

Tom and Kyra both helping to progress the plot in ways that are genuinely required from them and makes sense for their characters

The subtle hints that Yassen is going to wind up helping Alex in the end, the way his character gradually becomes more complex with each episode

Alex just generally being so smart, so resourceful, so capable and just really encompassing his character, not to mention the genuine depth that comes from his trauma + him accidentally getting people killed over the course of the season (Blunt telling him he has blood on his hands)

The tension that builds within The Department as Smithers and Mrs. Jones start keeping secrets from Blunt about Alex

Damian Cray just getting absolutely dogpiled by Alex and the gang who just keep screwing over his plan again and again

Alex and Yassen FINALLY having a full conversation and it holds so much weight and hits so good

The part where Sabina cracks Anders over the head with her own laptop (honorable mention)

All the cheeky light hearted bits where the kids are just being shitheads with too much power, like cutting off the electricity to the whole postal code just to use the computer lab

And then on the flip the angst that comes from literally no one believing Alex about anything for like 60% of the season

It's just scene after scene of "oH THIS PARTS SO GOOD" and it doesn't stop until the very end

has it been long enough that I can say that season 3 just doesn't hit the same😭

[popperazzi]

living room gallery wall is coming along!

[cc-kote]

There's a huge abandoned building just outside my city where you're allowed to paint on the walls so my girlfriend and I went on a little date there today! ❤️

[salem-witch-slut]

Prostitution (18+)

Sevika x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Of all the girls in the brothel, and she picked you.

WARNINGS: Brothel work (prostitute!reader), dom!Sevika, sub!reader, hair pulling, leather lingerie, grinding, fingering, strap-on use (r!receiving), Daddy Sevika, biting (briefly)

WORD COUNT: 2.1K

A/N: In honor of Arcane Season 2 coming out today, thought I would bring back one of my best kinktober prompts with everybody's favorite muscle mommy. Briefly considered making a part 2 for this but lemme know what you guys think?

dividers made by @cafekitsune

Why did you think this was a good idea?

Well, truth be told, you didn’t think this was a good idea… But it was the only idea you had left. Your family was dead, like everyone was in the Undercity. Your partner got herself killed from a shimmer overdose, and you were facing being homeless. Your entire world was turned upside down and it was all fucked to no end. But now you had to pick up the pieces.

You were hired at the brothel. What the actual fuck were you thinking? Well, you knew Babette, and she was willing to give you a chance. It was decent money, and you were given free food during every shift. How could you turn it down?

It was your first week and you have already been through hell. The women who came to the brothel tended to be high on shimmer and sloppy at best, but the men; they were aggressive, vicious, and you found yourself leaving with aches and pains every single night.

And yet, when you entered the room that you were assigned to today, you were surprised to say the least. The outfit on the bench was… strange. Normally, the clientele wanted something revealing, lace, and soft bright colors. No, you were given something black, made of leather, and matching black heels to complete the look.

“Don’t question it,” You told yourself. “Just put it on.”

You slowly stripped off all your clothes and pulled on the leather bustier and black lace panties. Your fingers twitched slightly as you strapped the heels to your feet and ran your fingers through your hair… Your lipstick was a deep maroon color, and you had dark, dramatic eyeliner. Seems like you thought it all out already?

Who was your client today? Why were you so nervous? What if it was a man that was three times your size? What if it was more than one man? What if you got hurt today?

“Did you hear about who she picked today?” A shiver raced down your spine as you approached the curtains in front of your door, biting down on your painted lip. Who were they talking about?

“Oh, I heard. Cute little new girl is about to get ruined today, huh?” You… they were talking about you! But who else? Who was she?

You’ll get your answer soon enough.

It felt like forever until you heard heavy footfalls in the hallways. Whispers carried in the corridors, along with the aggressive clicks of heels from your fellow ‘coworkers’ running away from whoever was making their presence known inside of the building. Your fingers trembled as you dared a peek out from behind your curtain.

Not even a second later, the curtain was being pulled back and in walked your client… Tall, muscular, handsome, and absolutely terrifying.

The brothel’s most regular visitor. Silco’s right hand… the person that everyone in the underground fears.

Sevika.

You nearly fell down the stairs, heels slipping on the concrete flooring as you tried to back away and give her the space she deserved. But it seemed she had other ideas.

Before your body could come in contact with the ground, the woman reached out and grabbed both of your hips with her hands. Her right hand was warm and calloused, a pulse beneath her flesh, but her left hand? Cold, sharp, and thrumming with the energy of her mechanical arm hidden beneath that cloak she always wears.

“Easy, doll,” Her voice is deep, husky almost as she steps forward and lowers you down to the stable surface behind you. Shivers raced down your back, and you couldn’t stop yourself from trembling in her grasp. For a moment, neither of you said anything. But then her eyes raked all over your body and she breathed, hard. “Damn, look at you… Pretty little thing all dressed up just for me?”

Were you supposed to speak? You have heard so many stories about Sevika… how aggressive and cruel she is out there on the streets, and how she kills without mercy or a care in the world. You were scared of her, to say the least… And Sevika could see it in your eyes. She knew what her reputation was and was more than happy to push the agenda.

“Scared of me?”

You inhaled sharply, your hands slowly sliding from your sides to hold onto her forearms. The whirring of the mechanics of her arm made your thighs tremble. “N-No, miss…”

“Funny,” Sevika reached down and gently ran her rough fingertips along the edge of your jaw before she slid her hand in your hair. “Only dumb girls feel no fear… Now, you aren’t dumb, are you sweet thing?”

 You breathed slowly for a second, fearing you said something wrong to her. She looked amused, but looks could be deceiving… The gap between her two front teeth was cute. You focused on the crease of her jawline, the scars on her face, and the way her brows were pulled down.

She was so fucking hot that you forgot why you were afraid… and then, she grabbed at your hair, making you yelp and submit. Your hands had slid far too high up, and she was punishing you… Fuck, she was punishing you! “Better watch it. I’m paying to touch you, not the other way around.”

“But—” You hiccupped, looking into her eyes for the briefest second. She waited for your words to continue. “S-sorry…”

“Oh, she has manners?” Sevika showed off the smile that made your stomach flutter for a brief moment and reached down with both hands, gripping your thighs and lifting you off the floor like you weighed almost nothing to her. Out of instinct, your hands reached up and grabbed onto her shoulders for stability. “We’re going to have fun.”

Before you could utter another sound, you felt something press against you… something solid, and stiff. Something that felt like it was alive, right against the wet spot on your panties. A low moan left your throat, and you just immediately knew what it was.

“Take it off, doll,” Sevika breathed against your neck. “You know you want to.”

Fingers trembled as you reached for the cloak on her shoulders and slowly pulled it over her head. The brown fabric dropped to the floor behind her, and you looked down, confirming your suspicion. Sevika was strapped under her pants… the bulge was now way more obvious without the cloak.

“Feel that?” Sevika pressed her flesh hand to your rear and stepped forward, spinning you around and sitting herself down on the couch behind you. The second you were in her lap, she was pushing you down onto her hips and grinding the bulge against your cunt like it was her damn birthright to do so.

Your pulse quickened with every passing second, and you dropped your face down against her chest, breathing in the scent of tobacco and her natural scent… Strong, earthy, like a roaring wood fire. You didn’t know what came over you, but before you could scold yourself for knowing better, your tongue came in contact with her bear neck and your lips trailed all over her exposed skin.

Sevika tensed up and her fingers went from holding your hips to sliding under the fabric of your panties, grabbing at your flesh and making you instinctively bite down on her shoulder. Nowhere near enough to hurt, but enough for her to feel it. Sevika looked like she was about to start climbing the walls as she felt your hips roll forward on top of her.

With a simple flick of her metallic fingers, the underwear given to you was ripped off your body and you barely had time to recover before Sevika was lifting you off her lap and reaching to pull the zipper of her pants down. A sigh left your throat, and you could only push your face into her neck; Sevika didn’t like that.

“Nuh-uh,” She grabbed your chin with her flesh hand, pulling you back to look down into her eyes. Her grey irises were staring directly passed your fears and into your soul. It was like she was lighting you on fire from the inside out. “You look at me. Prettiest fucking girl is going to look at me when I fuck her.”

Her words made you blush from the tips of your ears down to your neck and you almost forgot that this was your job… It was easy to think that Sevika had just picked you out of everyone in the underground to have a night with. Not… that she was paying for it.

“Don’t worry,” Sevika smirked, that crease in her brow becoming more prominent as you felt her hand leave your face and slide down between your legs. When you felt her calloused fingers against your soft wet folds, you forgot how to breathe. “Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.”

The sound you made was beyond pornographic. Two of her fingers slipped inside of your wetness without any kind of resistance. Your entire body went rigid, and your eyes fluttered for a brief second before you forced yourself to look at her. Sevika smirked and basked in your expressions, slowly pushing you up and down on her digits.

What did you even say? What were you supposed to do? Sevika isn’t like your other clients… She’s so intense, even when she’s barely touching you. It feels like you are drowning, even if it’s just her presence surrounding you. Your inner walls squeeze at her fingers as she curls them at just the right angle. Sevika smirked.

“Oh, you like that?” Sevika kept you steady on her lap with her metal hand while the other one worked in and out of your pussy. “So wet for me, already? Barely touched you, doll.”

“Fuuck...” You rolled your entire body forward, biting your lip and leaning down just enough to press soft kisses against her face. “P-Please—”

“Please, what?” Sevika said sternly. “Use your words, doll.”

“I… I n-need… ohfuck...”

“Come on,” She smirked, curling her fingers at just the right angle that you almost feel your legs give out. “Just say it—”

“Fuck me,” You whine, finally giving in. “Please, please, please… fuck me, daddy.”

There was a hunger in her eyes that wasn’t there before. It was like a switch had flipped inside of her because in mere seconds, you went from sitting on her lap to her pushing you down into the floor that was littered with pillows, blankets, anything you could desire to make this as comfortable as possible.

Sevika all but ripped her pants to try and free what had been teasing you initially. You only had a few seconds to really look at the strap around her hips before she was lining the tip of the bright purple silicone against your core.

“Pretty little thing,” Sevika growled, almost ferally as she slammed down overtop of you. Suddenly, the leather around your chest felt entirely too tight, like you couldn’t breathe. You began frantically reaching for the ties to undo the restraint on your chest, and Sevika noticed because you gasped at her ripping the ropes off the bustier and pushing the fabric apart to really look at you.

“Now, because you were a good girl…” Sevika gently prodded your opening, making you whimper and reach for her biceps. “You get a warning before you get fucked.”

“Daddy, please—”

That was her trigger. You could only grab at her muscles before she was plunging all of her strap inside of your cunt like it belonged to her. You tried to scream, but nothing came out other than a strangled squeak as your head went back on the pillows and tears filled your eyes.

You aren’t a stranger to being stretched out like this. It wasn’t like it was your first day at the brothel… but it was your first day with Sevika. She only gave you a few seconds to adjust to that cock before she was reaching down with her flesh fingers and gently rubbing at your clit.

Your soft squeaks faded into intense moans, much to the woman’s delight. She chuckled, watching you squirm and look at her like she was an alien of some sort.

“Not what you expected, doll?” Sevika teased, rolling her hips forward and making you moan like the whore you were. “Didn’t think I’d care about making you feel good?”

Very stupidly, you nodded.

“Let me fix that,” She leaned down, and you curled your fingers into the leather of her jacket before bracing yourself for the most intense workday of your entire fucking life.

“Be good for daddy and I’ll make you cum so hard that you’ll beg me not to leave.”

And that is exactly what Sevika did.

[way-to-go-lad]

time to paint some pumpkins 🎃

[miupow]

beeeestie i am a new follower aaaand im just in love w ur blog 😩❤️

plllllsssss talk about husband!skz, i just cant go to sleep without this on mind 😫😫😫

you can include nsfw if you are comfortable with

˗ˏˋ ★ ― HUSBAND!STRAY KIDS HEADCANONS .ᐟ

╰┈⪼ ot8 x fem!reader ✦ fluff + smut , NSFW minors do not interact !

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 。。。public sex , unprotected sex , creampies , breeding kink , marking , public sex , spanking , bondage , dom/sub dynamics , brat tamer minho , sex toys , shibari , oral (f. rec) , squirting , voice kink , oral (m. rec) mention , orgasm control , pet play sort of

notes from lia。ouuu husbant. my favorite genre of skz.. hehe thank u for the follow!! i hope u enjoy this.. it makes me so happy to hear that u love my blog ^^

SFW :

husband!bangchan who acts like he's your sugar daddy on top of being your husband. you could ask for the entire nation of korea and he'd try his best to give it to you. anything you want and more, it doesn't matter the price; chan just loves spoiling his baby girl. designer bags and jewelry, pretty clothes and expensive dinners... you don't even have to ask.

husband!minho who loves to cook with you, even though he acts like he doesn't. when he's complaining about you being in his way and making snide remarks about your culinary skills, it's out of endearment instead of actual irritation. he just finds it so funny when you throw your own retorts back at him, pouting in that way he adores so much <3 he just loves riling you up

husband!changbin who loves to work out with you! he sees it as a bonding activity, something for the two of you to do together to spend time with eachother. he helps you with all of your stretches, you spot eachother when you need to, exchanging kisses inbetween sets <3 holding his feet while he does sit ups, kissing u every time he comes up hehe

husband!hyunjin who views you as his greatest muse. his favorite subject to draw or paint is your pretty face, your smile his favorite to photograph. he shows you some of it, but most he keeps for himself-- for his eyes only, to admire when he's away on tour and he misses you.

husband!jisung who has an endless amount of inside jokes with you from all of your years together, showing up in gag gifts and one-liners that make you double over in laughter. ji loves to make you laugh, it’s his favorite sound in the entire world <3 he’s always doing something silly in hopes that you’ll give him a pretty giggle, smile and roll your eyes, make his heart skip a beat in his chest ~

husband!felix who treats you like a princess, maybe even a queen— he all but worships the ground you walk on, forever gushing about how beautiful and amazing his wife is <3 the honeymoon phase never ends with him, you’re still as disgustingly in love with each other as you were when you first started dating. he calls you all sorts of sappy pet names, giving you kisses everywhere he can reach, always needing to be touching you even if it’s just holding your hand

husband!seungmin who still acts like a tsundere even when you’ve been married for years lol. he complains about you being lazy but he’ll never let you lift a finger, he groans about you being needy when he’s the one always reaching for you and demanding ur attention >< you love him just the way he is, and he loves you more than he’ll ever care to admit. it’s so obvious that he adores you cos he’s always looking at you when he thinks you aren’t paying attention, eyes lit up like you hung the stars yourself <3

husband!jeongin who wants to spend absolutely every moment he can by your side, and he hates being away from you for any reason. a perfect day for him would be glued to your hip, from when you wake up to when you go to sleep, his favorite person and his partner in crime, his ride or die… he’d take you with him on tour if he could, but he’ll settle for being on facetime 24/7 while he’s away lol

NSFW :

husband!bangchan who can't wait to start a family <3 he figures that now you're married, it's only natural to start trying for a baby... fucks you hard and fills you up every night, fully intent on getting your belly all swollen with his babies… so much cum it’s spilling out of your hole down your hickey-marked thighs, chan pushing it back inside with his thick fingers talking about making sure it takes…

husband!minho who will put you back in your place when you’re being bratty. he will not tolerate his wife having an attitude with him!! he’ll put you over his lap and make you count in an instant, or tie you up and torture you with your favorite vibrator for hours, and he won’t stop until you’re crying and begging for his forgiveness <3 he doesn’t care if you’re out in public or out with friends, he’s whispering threats in your ear, and if you still don’t stop he’ll grab you by the wrist and drag you back home.

husband!changbin who can't help but find your workout wear incredibly sexy, the way your leggings hug your ass and curves, the way ur sports bra pushes up ur tits.. and he knows you find him sexy too, in his tank top and gym shorts, sweaty muscles all out on display.... he's drooling over you while you're drooling over him, and you can both only take so much... its not uncommon for the two of you to end up fucking in the gym showers or in the locker rooms, sometimes even getting touchy in the weight room if it's empty!! changbin slapping and gripping on your ass cos he can't stop himself from touching anymore, and you grind back onto his crotch to feel his erection... his fat dick splitting you open in the showers, his thick buff arms holding you up against the cold shower wall with your legs apart..

husband!hyunjin who loves to tie you up, more than any of the other boys. it’s like an art form to him and he takes it very seriously, buying expensive rope in pretty colors, taking immaculate care of it.. he loves to take pictures of his work, the intricate knots that bind you in place or suspend you from the ceiling— you look so beautiful like that to him, his perfect tied up angel for him to admire and destroy <3

husband!jisung who is an absolute pussy fiend… he could spend all day with his face buried between your legs, talented tongue making you cum over and over again until you squirt hehe <3 he’s not satisfied until his entire face is drenched with ur arousal, dripping slick from his nose and chin, and then he wants to fuck you until you can’t walk ! and you better believe he’s going in raw, because why would he wear a condom when his ring is on your finger? you better be careful, because jisung wants to fuck every day and every night… you wouldn’t mind if you got pregnant, would you? because he definitely wouldn’t

husband!felix who thinks it’s so cute that you find his voice so hot. all he has to do is whisper some dirty words in your ear and you’re blushing and squirming like a virgin… he just can’t help but do it all of the time. deep aussie accent mumbling about how he’s going to ruin your pussy when you get home, or about how hard and needy he is for you to take care of him <3 his hand on your thigh dangerously close to where you need him most… he loves to rile you up until you can’t take any more, till you snap <3

husband!seungmin who loves his wife submissive and needy <3 he won’t let you touch yourself without his permission, just because he loves to listen to you beg, so desperate and dependent on him … he’s trained you to be a perfect pup for him, down to the collar he likes to have you wear. you’d do anything to hear him say “good girl”, wouldn’t you?

husband!jeongin who loves to fuck in public !! getting head in the park, balls deep in your pussy in a bathroom stall, fucking under a blanket in the dorm living room, loud movie covering up your sounds. the riskiness of it gets him so hot, the idea of getting caught slutting you out in a dressing room, closet, break room… maybe it’s because he’s so possessive, that nasty freaky part of him relishing the idea of showing off to others how you belong to him… and he loves watching you stumble around with cum dripping down your legs from under your skirt, disheveled and redfaced desperate to hide what you and your husband were just up to…

[suksatoru]

if there's one thing sae itoshi knows about you, it's that you are shameless when it comes to his back muscles.

he's used to feeling your curious hands rubbing up and over the slopes and expanse of his back in the early hours of the morning. and you're cheeky—you make him shiver under the duvet whenever you place those feather light kisses all over him.

you start by moving the hair resting at the nape of his neck, pressing a single kiss onto the soft skin before gliding your lips downwards, your path traveling to his shoulder blades. and from there, you move down to his back.

sae is used to it now. the moment he feels your fingers brush against his cheek and move towards his neck—he hides the small, rare smile threatening to break out onto his face by smushing his cheek into his pillow. today, you start by pressing a soft kiss onto his scalp.

"good morning, handsome," you giggle, eyes gleaming and far too lively for it being six am in the morning as sae hums sleepily, his voice gravely and deep with exhaustion. instinctively, sae rolls onto his stomach for you, folding his arms and resting his head onto his forearms in the process.

you're crawling onto his back moments later, with your thighs pressed flush against his bare skin. the light streaming from the open balcony window shines directly onto sae, and you pause—taking a moment to admire the sight in front of you.

the sunlight makes him appear like he's glowing—pink tufts curl and wrap around his head like a halo, and the particles in the air look like shimmering glitter in sae itoshi's presence.

sae had that effect on things around him. your eyes move down to his back—your favorite part—and you're trying so hard not to sigh at the mere sight. his muscles flex with impatience when he doesn't feel your sweet kisses worshipping his body like they did every morning, and he squints an eye open to glare at you from where he laid.

"y/n," he mumbles, moving a hand backwards to tap your thigh impatiently as you shush him

"shh...let me grab my phone. my 'sae itoshi's wet hair out of the shower' wallpaper is about to be replaced by my 'sae itoshi's back in the morning' wallpaper," you laugh quietly, leaning over to grab your phone off your bedside table as you snap a quick picture—tossing it onto the edge of the bed once you get a good angle.

sae is the perfect muse—he stayed still for you while you took your picture. whether it was out of laziness or the fact that he just didn't care, you were grateful either way. he rolls his shoulders, and you watch his muscles ripple like waves as he lets out a quiet come on now.

and so your sweet assault begins. sae's entire body relaxes, and he feels like butter melting under you as your lips and tongue paint their devotion in the most passionate manner he'd ever have the pleasure of knowing. no one does it like you do—loves him, that is. those words are muffled by the pillow he's smushed his face into as he speaks them, and sae wonders how he ever woke up peacefully before you came into his life.

your lips transverse sae's back longingly—and you're peppering kisses onto his milky white skin, creating your very own constellation of stars. and sae thinks nothing, absolutely nothing in the world could bring him out of this moment of pure serenity with you.

well, that is until you bite him.

"fucking—ow!"

"oops! sorry baby!"

blue lock masterlist! :P

[promptedwordsmith]

LADS guys in the morning

Caleb

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a gentle glow on the room. It was early, the kind of early that still felt like the night had only just let go of its hold. You stirred in the bed, the familiar warmth of Caleb's presence gone, but it wasn’t the absence of him that made you blink awake—it was the little things he always left behind.

The scent of fresh coffee wafted in from the kitchen, mingling with the faint smell of something sweet. Caleb’s careful hand had already prepared breakfast—your favorite pancakes, golden and soft, stacked high on the table with syrup and fresh fruit. The toast was perfectly browned, just the way you liked it. A glass of orange juice stood beside the plate, and a small note was tucked under the edge of your mug.

“Eat up. You’ve got a big day ahead, and you deserve to start it right. I’ll be back soon. – C”

You smiled, feeling a soft warmth spread through you. Caleb had a way of making you feel loved, even when he wasn’t there. It was in the little gestures—the things he did when you weren’t looking. The things that told you more than words could.

He’d also laid out your clothes from the night before—your favorite sweater, jeans, and boots—neatly folded on the chair beside the dresser. It was the kind of thoughtful detail that had become second nature to him. Even when he wasn’t physically present, he made sure your world was as comfortable as possible.

Today, though, was different. Today, Caleb had the rare gift of a day off. It wasn’t often, especially with his responsibilities as a Colonel, but when he did manage to carve out time for himself, he always spent it with you. You didn’t rush to get up this time. Instead, you lingered under the covers, wrapping yourself in the softness of the sheets as you listened to the quiet of the house.

You could hear the subtle sound of him stirring just before you opened your eyes. He was always the first to wake, even when he had nothing pressing to attend to. As you slowly turned toward him, you found Caleb already looking at you, his deep purple eyes soft and tender, a gentle smile curving his lips.

Without a word, he pulled you into his chest, his warmth surrounding you like a protective cocoon. His fingers brushed through your hair, and for a moment, the world outside didn’t matter. In his arms, there was nothing but peace—no Colonel, no responsibilities, just Caleb, quietly loving you in the stillness of the morning.

Rafayel

Mornings with Rafayel were something else entirely. The room would be painted soft golds and pinks from the sky outside, but it wasn’t the sunrise that woke you. It was the quiet rustling of paper, the scratch of a pencil on canvas.

Most mornings, Rafayel was already awake before you, his long, lean form sat up against the headboard, his back slightly arched as he studied you. There was something so serene about the way he observed you while you slept, his purple eyes filled with quiet fascination. His pencil would move swiftly, capturing the curve of your lips, the delicate flutter of your eyelashes as you dreamed.

Sometimes, he’d exaggerate the softness of your expression, emphasizing the way your mouth hung open just the slightest bit, or the way your hair curled around your face. Other times, he’d capture the stillness, the peacefulness of you in your slumber. Each sketch was a reflection of how deeply he saw you, how much he cherished those fleeting, quiet moments when you were unaware of his gaze.

You never seemed to mind when you woke to find his sketchbook open beside him, his focused eyes glimmering with excitement as he waited for you to stir. Sometimes, when you finally blinked awake, he’d stop mid-pencil stroke and reach out for you, pulling you into the warmth of his arms. You’d feel his warmth as he buried his face in your hair, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, as if the morning was simply an extension of his affection.

“Good morning, my muse,” he’d murmur with a lazy smile, his voice thick with sleep. His hands would cradle your face gently, before guiding you to look at what he’d drawn. His eyes were bright with that gleam of expectation, the same one he wore when he’d created something he was proud of.

“Do you like it?” he’d ask eagerly, always seeking your praise. He was always so excited, like a child showing off a new treasure.

You’d smile, tracing the sketch of your sleeping self. “It’s beautiful, Rafayel,” you’d say, meaning it with all your heart.

He’d grin, a little smug but undeniably pleased. “I always capture the best parts of you,” he’d reply, his voice soft but full of pride.

And then, without fail, he’d pull you back into his arms, content to simply hold you there. His mornings were filled with soft gestures, a quiet intimacy, and an overwhelming love that he could never quite put into words—but his sketches said it all.

Sylus

Sylus would, of course, be the kind of man who is already awake by the time you stir, his movements as precise and controlled as everything else in his life. He rises before the sun, not because he must, but because the silence of the early hours gives him the space he craves to think, to plan, and to stay one step ahead. His study, as usual, is a place of order, with books stacked neatly, papers spread out in meticulous arrangements, and the dim glow of a single desk lamp casting a warm light over the room.

Mephisto, ever loyal and ever watchful, is stationed by the door, alert for any shift in your slumber. As soon as you stir, the smallest of movements, Mephisto’s sharp eyes are on you, and in an instant, Sylus is informed. There's no urgency in his steps as he moves toward you, only a quiet confidence as if he’s already planned this out in his mind.

When he finds you awake, bleary-eyed and still wrapped in the soft warmth of sleep, he’s already there—waiting, his hands gentle as they guide you back to a state of comfort. He bundles you in a blanket with a tenderness that few would expect from someone like him, his touch both soft and commanding as he settles you in his lap.

"Rest," he murmurs, his voice low, smooth—too soft for anyone else to hear but just right for you. "You’ve been working hard enough already." He adjusts the blanket around you, pulling it tight so that you can feel nothing but the warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his breath.

Though he's clearly busy with his work, papers and books spread across the desk in front of him, there’s a quiet attentiveness to his actions. He’s accustomed to juggling multiple tasks at once, but now, with you in his lap, the world feels a bit more still.

“Such a lazy morning,” he teases, his fingers brushing the hair from your face. His eyes glint with mischief as he watches you try to fight the sleepiness tugging at your mind. “I should be the one napping, don’t you think?”

Every now and then, he’ll steal a glance down at you, his sharp gaze softening just slightly as he listens to you breathe, the warmth of his hand gently stroking your arm or tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

“You know,” he continues with a wry smile, voice still a teasing whisper, “if you insist on being so adorable, I’ll have to keep you here all day. It would be a shame to let you go back to the world just yet.”

Even in moments like this, when he’s clearly enjoying the quiet of the morning, there’s an air of command in his voice—playful, but still deeply controlling, as though everything, even this, is part of his careful design. The contrast of his calm authority and the tenderness with which he holds you makes it clear that he’s in no hurry to let this peaceful moment end.

Xavier

The early morning light barely creeps from the windows, soft and cool, just enough to cast a faint glow over the room where Xavier stirs beneath the covers. Silver hair tousled, his blue eyes squinting against the early light, Xavier slowly wakes, blinking like he’s not sure if the world around him is real or if he's still trapped in the fog of a dream. His tall frame is partially buried beneath the sheets, and for a moment, he seems so much younger, more vulnerable than he usually does in his usual, mysterious Lightseeker uniform.

You smile to yourself, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you quietly slip out of bed. The bed is warm from the shared comfort of the night, and for a second, you pause to glance at him. His usual calm demeanor is almost absent this morning—he’s just a groggy, sleepy version of the man you know, the one who would casually step into a battle against Wanderers and come out without a scratch. Yet here, in your space, he seems so much more human.

Xavier's eyes follow you as you get up, still too tired to make a move but enough to watch you. “Morning,” he murmurs, his voice rough from sleep, like the words are coming from somewhere deep inside, half-asleep and disoriented.

"Morning, sleepyhead," you tease lightly, but he doesn’t even attempt to push himself up. Instead, he just watches you, his gaze soft but filled with that ever-present curiosity, that hunger for knowledge—the kind that always makes him so intent on understanding you, even in the quietest of moments.

Despite the fact that he’s clearly still too tired to function properly, Xavier pulls himself up when you do, following you with an almost submissive air, like he's too comfortable to not move with you. It’s such a gentle, rare thing to witness in him, the man who always carries a burden heavier than most can even fathom. His silver hair, tousled and messy from sleep, contrasts with the light, soft fabric of his white sweater, giving him an almost ethereal, boyish charm in these quiet mornings.

You head to the kitchen, and without missing a beat, he lumbers after you, his long limbs sluggishly following your movements. His big armored gloves are nowhere to be seen, of course—he’s not in his Lightseeker uniform—but there's something about the absence of his usual intensity that makes him even more approachable.

He watches with barely contained interest as you move around, setting the coffee to brew and preparing some pancakes. He leans against the doorway, eyes still half-closed. “I’ll cook,” he says lazily, but you can tell by the way his voice drifts off that he’s not awake enough to do much of anything.

“Mm, no, Xavier,” you say with a laugh, nudging him back. “You’re way too sleepy. Go get ready. I’ll make breakfast.”

He gives a half-hearted sigh and turns toward the bathroom, shuffling with slow, uncertain steps. He moves like a person still tangled in his own dreams, like the weight of the world has yet to catch up with him this morning.

The sound of the shower runs as you prepare the pancakes, the soft scent of cinnamon drifting through the air. It’s simple, but in these moments, you both share something more than words could express—a rare quiet that only deepens the connection between you.

When he returns, freshly showered and looking like he’s been reborn, he crosses the room with that natural, quiet grace of his, now wide awake and looking as close to perfect as he ever does. There’s an elegance to the way he moves, even in something as mundane as getting ready for work, a hint of old-world nobility that you find hard to ignore.

The pancakes are ready, steaming and golden brown, and you hand him a plate. His blue eyes meet yours, still warm and soft but hinting at something more. “Thank you.”

You just smile, nudging him gently. “You’re welcome. Now, let’s get ready for the day.”

You both slip into the rhythm of preparing for work—two different lives interwoven in a moment of quiet normalcy. The contrast between Xavier’s world of danger and the soft simplicity of your mornings together always catches you off guard, but somehow, you’re learning to treasure it.

And as you move through the motions of the day, whether it’s grabbing coffee or quickly packing your bag for work, you’re already looking forward to the next moment you’ll get to share with him—however simple or mundane it may be. It’s those quiet, everyday moments that make you feel like, despite everything, you’ve found something worth holding onto.

Zayne

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room. Zayne’s alarm had gone off—right on time, as it always did—but he stirred only slightly, his brow furrowing slightly before he reluctantly pulled himself awake. He was a light sleeper, and mornings were often a quiet struggle for him, though he tried his best not to show it. He reached over and turned off the alarm, the small action marking the start of his daily routine.

Though you were still wrapped in the warmth of your blankets, you could hear the quiet rustling of his movements, his footsteps soft on the hardwood floor. Zayne, ever the early riser, always took his time in the mornings, careful and deliberate in the rituals he’d perfected over the years.

By the time you finally rolled out of bed, still half-dreaming, you found him in the kitchen. The faint scent of jasmine filled the air as he brewed the tea, its delicate fragrance wafting through the room and wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. He turned as you entered, offering a small, but knowing smile.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice clearer after drinking some of the tea. He handed you the steaming cup of tea, his eyes warm but steady. “Doctor’s orders,” he said with a teasing glint, knowing full well that his gentle insistence was more of a care than a command.

You took the cup, savoring the warmth as you sat down at the kitchen table. Zayne began to move with quiet purpose, grabbing his things from one room to the next. The soft sound of his footsteps was familiar, grounding. First his jacket from the hallway, then his watch from the bedroom, and finally his stethoscope from the counter.

As you brushed your teeth together, the sound of the water running and the occasional soft hum of conversation filled the space between you. His words were thoughtful and calm as always, asking how you slept, commenting on the weather, or offering little pieces of advice about your day. His routines were steady, predictable, and somehow comforting.

Eventually, he stood by the door, ready to go. His eyes softened as he leaned in to press a quick kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll see you later,” he whispered, his voice low and warm.

You nodded, a sleepy smile tugging at your lips as he turned to leave. You watched him disappear down the hallway, and as the front door closed behind him, you made your way back to bed, the scent of jasmine lingering in the air—a reminder of the soft start to your morning, and the quiet love that filled it.

[beombunni]

PAINTED BRUISES AND PAPER WINGS - ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ H.K

》 Kai had one goal. Tutor the most popular girl on campus without getting a boner…

》 𝔱𝔵𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 & 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢…

pairings » loser tutor!kai x popular cheerleader!fem reader

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 » smut » college au

warnings » smut, pwp, tit job, pussy drunk kai, unprotected sex, oral (m rec.), not explicitly mentioned loss of virginity, mention of masturbation, corruption kink, cowgirl, choking (m rec), hickeys, innocent kai, kai wears glasses, reader teaches him how to kiss, slight sub!kai, rushed ending

« 𝔭𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔟𝔬𝔞𝔯𝔡 »

word count « 5.3k »

You swing the door open, leaning casually against the frame as if you have all the time in the world. Kai is standing there, clutching his backpack like it’s a lifeline, his glasses slightly askew on his nose. He’s got that deer-in-headlights look, the one that’s half terror and half disbelief, like he’s still trying to convince himself this is actually happening. “Took you long enough,” you say, arching an eyebrow. You’re still in your cheer uniform—not because you forgot to change, but because you know it makes him uncomfortable. The smug smile tugging at your lips deepens when you catch the way his eyes dart to your pom-poms tossed carelessly on the bed and then quickly away, like even looking too long might be a sin.��

“Uh, sorry, I, uh…” He’s already stammering, which you’ll admit is kind of adorable in a pathetic way. His cheeks flush bright red, and you resist the urge to laugh. Barely.

“Relax, Kai, I don’t bite.” You step back, holding the door open wider. “Unless you’re into that of course.” You send him a smirk, one that leaves him flustered. His lips move soundlessly for a second, and you swear he’s about to say something clever, but he just ducks his head and shuffles inside. The door clicks shut behind him, and the room feels smaller somehow, the air charged with a tension that’s equal parts amusing and intriguing. He sets his backpack down on the desk, pulling out a textbook and a neatly organized notebook. Of course he’s the type to have color-coded tabs. You lean against the edge of your bed, arms crossed, watching him like a cat might watch a particularly nervous mouse.

“You always this twitchy, or is it just me?” you ask, tilting your head. 

“I—what?” He looks up, eyes wide behind those thick lenses. 

“You heard me.” You smirk, leaning forward just enough to watch him squirm. “What, do I intimidate you?” His eyes flickered downwards only for a second catching sight of your cleavage spilling over in your cheer top. It was so quick you weren’t entirely sure it even happened. 

“No! I mean, not… really,” he says, but his voice cracks on the last word, and you have to bite your lip to keep from laughing outright. 

“Sure, Kai. Whatever you say.” You push off the bed and stroll over to where he’s awkwardly standing, flipping through his notes like they might suddenly disappear. You pluck the notebook out of his hands before he can react, flipping it open to the first page. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.” 

“Wait, that’s—” He protested, his hand stretched out towards you.

“Oh, my God, is this your handwriting?” you interrupt, holding up the page like it’s a work of art. “It’s so… neat. You’re like a human printer or something.” You teased him. 

“I just like to keep things organized,” he mutters, grabbing for the notebook, but you hold it out of his reach, grinning. 

“Relax, I’m kidding.” You hand it back, and he clutches it to his chest like you’ve just handed him a baby. “Alright, let’s get this over with. What are we working on today? Quadratics? Polynomials? Something else that sounds like a disease?” 

He blinks at you, clearly unsure if you’re serious or not. “Uh, geometry, actually.” His face was tinted red with heat, an adorably shy expression on his face. 

“Great. Geometry. My favorite.” You flop onto your bed, propping yourself up on your elbows. “Alright, Professor Kai, teach me your nerdy ways.” He hesitates, glancing at the desk like he’s debating whether to sit there or risk the empty spot on the bed. You pat the mattress beside you, and his face does that adorable tomato thing again. He eventually perches on the very edge, stiff as a board, and you have to fight the urge to mess with him more. For now, anyway. 

“Okay, so, um,” he starts, opening the textbook to a bookmarked page. “We’ll start with angles.” 

“Lead the way,” you say, grinning. This is going to be fun. Not. 

After about twenty minutes, you’re already bored. Angles, lines, and proofs swirl together into one big mess of blah in your brain. You let out an exaggerated sigh, flopping back onto the bed dramatically. “Kai, this is torture. You’re supposed to be making me smarter, not putting me to sleep.” 

He glances up, startled. “Uh, well, maybe if you focused a little—” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

“Focus is for nerds,” you interrupt, sitting up and fixing him with a teasing grin. “Speaking of which, you’re like, the king of nerds, right? Have you ever even had a girlfriend?” You twirled your hair around your finger intently watching Kai get even more flustered. You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t sexy. 

His face does that adorable flush thing again, and he looks anywhere but at you. “I—I don’t think that’s relevant,” he mutters. 

“Oh my God, you haven’t!” You laugh, clapping your hands together. “That’s so cute.” 

“It’s not—” He pushes his glasses up his nose, clearly flustered. “I’ve just been… busy. With school.” 

“Sure, sure,” you say, scooting closer to him on the bed. “Too busy for girls, huh? You’re missing out, Kai. I bet there’s a whole line of girls just waiting for you to notice them.” He glances at you briefly, and for a second, you think he might actually believe you. Then he shakes his head, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I doubt that.” 

“Aw, come on. You’re, like, totally adorable in a dorky way,” you say, poking his arm playfully. “If you ever want tips, I’m available. I could totally turn you into boyfriend material.” 

“Uh, thanks, but I think I’ll pass,” he says, and you can tell he’s trying to sound confident, but the red in his cheeks gives him away. 

“Are you sure? Because I can teach you a lotttt of things.” You drawled the word out with a seductive lit, learning forward on your palms knees laid flat on the bed you both sat on. “Just say the word.” Kai nodded, licking his lips before looking down at the paper in between you two. 

He fumbles with his notebook, flipping back to the page he’d marked. “Uh, we should probably stick with the angles,” he says, his voice a little steadier now. You let him drone on for a few more minutes, but your attention starts to wander again. You catch yourself studying him instead—how his brow furrows when he’s concentrating, the way his glasses slip down his nose and he pushes them back up without even realizing it. It’s… kind of endearing. 

“Hey, Kai,” you interrupt suddenly, making him jump. 

“Uh, yeah?” he says, looking up nervously. 

“What do you even do for fun? Like, do you have hobbies? Or is it just… math and more math?” 

“I, um…” He hesitates, clearly caught off guard. “I like reading. And, uh, video games, sometimes.” 

“Video games? Really?” You sit up, intrigued. “What kind of games? Please don’t say something boring like Sudoku.” 

He actually laughs, which surprises you. “No, not Sudoku. Mostly RPGs. You know, role-playing games?”

“Roleplay, huh. Cute.” You tsk. 

“Yeah i mainly play in my freetime an-” 

“Have you ever kissed a girl?” You asked, your intrusive horny thoughts getting the best of you. 

The poor boy freezes mid-sentence. His eyes go wide, and his mouth opens and closes like a goldfish. “I—what?”

“You heard me,” you say, your grin widening. “Do you know how to kiss? Or is that something else you’ve been ‘too busy’ for?”

“I… I…” His face is a spectacular shade of red now. “That’s not really—why would you even ask that?”

“Because I’m curious,” you reply, resting your chin in your hand as you watch him squirm. “And maybe a little concerned. You’re going to need to know eventually, you know.” 

“I don’t—uh, I mean, it’s not like it’s a priority,” he stammers, looking anywhere but at you. 

You laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, Kai. You’re hopeless. Want me to teach you?” 

His head snaps toward you so fast you’re surprised he doesn’t get whiplash. “W-what?” 

“I’m serious.” You sit up straighter, your expression playful but not unkind. “Consider it part of your ‘cool lessons.’ Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. It’ll be our little secret.” 

“I—I don’t think…” He trails off, clearly torn between mortification and… something else. Curiosity, maybe? 

“Relax,” you say, your tone softer now. “It’s not a big deal. And it’s better to practice with someone who knows what they’re doing than to wing it with a girl you actually like, right?” 

He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I… guess that makes sense,” he mumbles. 

“Exactly.” You grin, scooting closer to him. “So, what do you say? You in?” 

He nods almost robotically at you, his face red with heat. You smiled at him and his adorableness. “If at any point you want me to stop, just tell me okay?” 

“Alright.” His chest heaved slightly up and down. His breath was so hot and heavy it started to fog up his glasses. 

In truth, You didn’t plan on this. Not exactly. When you invited Kai over for your usual tutoring session, you didn’t think the lesson would take such a... personal turn. But here you are, sitting cross-legged on your bed, looking down at your awkward, painfully shy tutor as he tries to figure out what to do with his long legs on your bedroom floor. He’s nervous. It's painfully obvious but also you think it’s kind of cute. Kai’s got this whole quiet, scruffy puppy vibe that’s weirdly irresistible, even when he’s rambling about physics equations you’ll never understand. “Okay,” you say, leaning forward and grinning at him. “So, we’re doing this.” 

Kai looks up from where he’s fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie. “Like, actually?” he asks, his voice soft and uncertain, like he’s afraid of the answer. 

“If you want to.” You reassured. You didn't want to make him do something he really didn't want to do. 

“Ok.” He nods again. 

“So you really haven’t kissed anyone?” You asked him. 

“No. Really.” He mumbled. 

“Well,” you say, clapping your hands together. “That’s tragic, and we’re fixing it. Right now.”

Kai stays quiet keeping his eyes glued to the notebook below him. His fingers curl the ends of the papers as a distraction. “Relax,” you say, scooting closer. “It’s just practice. Like studying for a test. You’re good at that, right?” 

“This is not like studying,” he mutters, his eyes darting everywhere but your face.

“It kinda is,” you tease, grinning. “You don’t wanna bomb your first real kiss, do you?”

He groans, his head falling forward so his messy hair hides his face. “This is so embarrassing.” The action sent a bolt of pure adrenaline straight to your core, heat pooling in your stomach. 

“Aww, don’t be like that,” you say, reaching out to nudge his knee. He flinches at the contact, which just makes you smile harder. “You’ve got me, like, the best teacher ever. You’ll be fine.” 

Kai hesitates for a long moment, his fingers twitching nervously against the blanket. Then, finally, he nods. It’s barely a movement, but it’s enough. “Okay,” you say, sitting up a little straighter. “First rule: don’t overthink it. Just lean in slowly, and don’t bump my nose, okay?”

He nods again, his face so red it almost matches the physics textbook on your desk. Taking a deep breath, he leans in, his movements jerky and uncertain. His nose brushes yours, and his glasses bump your forehead, making you giggle. “Hold up,” you say, reaching out to adjust his glasses. Your fingers graze his temple, and he freezes, his breath hitching. “There. Now try again.” Kai swallows hard and leans in once more, this time slower and more deliberate. When his lips finally meet yours, it’s hesitant—soft and shy, like he’s afraid of messing up. But then, something shifts. 

Maybe it’s the way you relax into him, or maybe he’s not as clueless as he seems, but his movements become a little bolder. His hand brushes against yours on the bed, tentative at first, then firmer as his fingers curl around yours. His lips move against yours with surprising tenderness, and for someone who’s never kissed a girl before, he’s… actually pretty good at this. When he pulls back, his glasses are fogged up, and his hair is sticking up on one side from where your hand accidentally ruffled it. He looks at you like he’s not sure if he should apologize or thank you. His lips were red and stained from your lip stink. It was a sight for sore eyes. That was for sure. “Well,” you say, tilting your head and pretending to think. “That was definitely better than I expected.” 

Kai blinks at you, his mouth opening and closing like he’s trying to find words. “It… it was?”

“Uh, yeah,” you say, laughing. “You’ve got, like, natural talent or something.”

His ears turn red, and he looks down at his lap, clearly flustered. “I don’t know about that…” 

“I’m serious.” You say with a cheeky smile. “I’m surprised you’ve never kissed a girl before.” 

Kai doesn’t say anything at first, his gaze fixed on the bed like it’s suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. He’s holding his breath, you realize, like he’s still processing what just happened. You lean back a little, smirking as you nudge his knee with your toes. “Earth to Kai. You good?”

“Y-yeah,” he stammers, pushing his glasses up his nose with shaking fingers. “I’m… I’m fine.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, grinning at how flustered he is. “You sure? You look like you just ran a marathon or something.”

He laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… I didn’t think…”

“Didn’t think what?” you prompt, leaning in a little.

He glances up at you through his lashes, his brown eyes wide and uncertain. Then, so quietly you almost don’t catch it, he says, “Can we… do it again? For practice?” You blink, surprised. For someone who looked like he wanted to crawl under the bed two minutes ago, that’s a pretty bold request. But then you see the way he’s fidgeting, his fingers twisting the hem of his hoodie again, and you realize he’s just as nervous as before—maybe more. 

“You want more practice?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Kai nods, his cheeks turning pink. “I just… I don’t want to mess it up. You said I was okay, but… I want to get it right.”

You laugh, the sound light and teasing. “Wow, look at you. Mr. Overachiever even when it comes to kissing.”

“I’m serious,” he says quickly, his voice a little firmer than before. “I-I mean… if you don’t mind.” You tilt your head, studying him for a moment. There’s something endearing about how earnest he is, like he’s genuinely trying to learn. And, okay, maybe you’re a little curious to see if he’s as good as you thought.

“Alright,” you say, grinning as you scoot closer. “But you better pay attention, because I’m not giving extra credit.” Kai swallows hard, nodding as you lean in. This time, he doesn’t wait for you to guide him. He closes the distance himself, his movements still hesitant but more deliberate. When his lips meet yours, it’s like he’s more sure of himself—less scared of getting it wrong. His hand brushes against your arm, tentative at first, then bolder as his fingers trail down to your wrist. There’s a softness to his touch, like he’s still afraid of crossing some invisible line, but there’s also something else—a quiet intensity that surprises you. You let out a soft hum of approval, and that seems to encourage him. He leans in closer, his glasses briefly pressing against your cheek before he adjusts. His lips move against yours with more confidence now, and when his hand comes to rest lightly on your waist, your heart skips a beat. 

“Okay,” you murmur against his mouth, pulling back just enough to catch your breath. “That was… definitely an improvement.” 

Kai looks at you, his face flushed and his glasses slightly fogged. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you say, laughing softly as you brush a stray piece of hair from his forehead. “You’re, like, dangerously close to being good at this.” 

He bites his lip, a small, bashful smile creeping onto his face. “Do you think… we could keep practicing? Just, you know, to be sure.” 

You snort, shaking your head. “Wow, you’re really taking this whole ‘study session’ thing seriously, huh?”

Kai shrugs, his smile turning sheepish. “I just… I don’t want to forget what I learned.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no hiding the grin tugging at your lips. “Fine,” you say, leaning in again. “But if you get too good at this, you’re gonna owe me, like, a hundred bucks in tutoring fees.”

He laughs, the sound soft and a little breathless. “Deal.”

This time, when your lips meet, it’s different. The hesitancy is still there—Kai’s nothing if not cautious—but there’s also a growing confidence in the way his mouth moves against yours. His hand on your waist tightens slightly, pulling you just a little closer, and when his fingers brush against the curve of your hip, you feel a shiver run down your spine. You grabbed his other hand guiding it up to cup your breast over your cheer top. His breath hitches in his throat but his lips do not disconnect from yours. His hand squeezes gently, fondling your breast clumsily. You deepen the kiss, letting your hands slide up to his shoulders. His breath hitches, and for a split second, he freezes, but then he responds, tilting his head to match your movements.

It’s almost funny how natural it feels now, like he’s been hiding this talent the whole time. And maybe he’s still a little clumsy, but there’s something kind of perfect about that—like he’s not just going through the motions, but actually feeling every second of it. His hand falls from your breast down the expanse of your body, like he was taking in every part of you. When you finally break apart, both of you are breathing harder than before. Kai looks dazed, his hair a mess and his glasses slipping down his nose again.

“Well,” you say, sitting back and trying to catch your breath. “That was… definitely better.” Kai sits there for a moment, blinking at you like he’s trying to process what just happened. His lips are slightly parted, still red from the kiss, and his glasses are askew again, but he doesn’t seem to notice. 

You lean back on your hands, smirking at him. “You’re seriously gonna have to stop being so cute when you’re flustered,” you tease. “It’s not fair.”

He ducks his head, his hair falling into his face as he adjusts his glasses with trembling fingers. “I—I’m not…” he starts, but his voice trails off, too shy to finish.

“Not what?” you prod, leaning forward. “Not cute? Hate to break it to you, Kai, but you totally are.”

He groans softly, covering his face with his hands. “You’re just saying that,” he mumbles.

You reach out, tugging his hands away from his face. “Nope,” you say, your voice softer now. “I mean it. You’re adorable.”

Kai looks up at you then, his brown eyes wide and uncertain. There’s something vulnerable about the way he’s looking at you, like he’s trying to figure out if this is real or just some kind of joke. “You okay?” you ask, tilting your head. 

He hesitates, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. His voice is barely audible when he says, “Can we… do that again?”

You laugh, the sound soft and a little breathless. “Practice makes perfect, huh?”

Kai doesn’t laugh this time. Instead, he shakes his head, his cheeks turning pink. “Not… not practice,” he says quietly. “I just… want to.” For a moment, you’re too surprised to say anything. Kai, who practically turned into a human tomato at the idea of kissing you earlier, is asking to do it again—just because. And the way he’s looking at you now, with something like quiet determination beneath all that shyness, makes your heart skip a beat.

“Well,” you say, leaning in slowly, your voice dropping to a whisper. “How can I say no to that?”

This time, there’s no hesitation. Kai leans in, closing the distance between you, and when his lips meet yours, it’s like something clicks. He’s still careful, still soft and tentative, but there’s a new kind of intensity in the way his mouth moves against yours—like he’s finally letting himself want this. You pull away just slightly, your lips hovering over his “Did you like touching me earlier?” Your voice slightly ragged as you brought your own hand up to paw your breast. 

“Yes.” Was all he responded, eyelids heavy with lust. 

“Touch me.” You spoke with assertion bringing his palm up to your breast again. He squeezed lightly causing a small whimper to leave your lips. “Do you like my tits baby?” 

Kai’s nod was almost bobbled as he continued to fondle at your breast. You reattached your lips to his in a tangle of teeth and tongue. Your hands slide up to his shoulders, then into his hair, tugging lightly. He makes a sound in the back of his throat—half a gasp, half a hum—that sends a shiver down your spine. The hand that was on your breast left for only a brief moment before it was up and under your cheer top and his bare hand cupped at your boob under your top. “Wow,” you murmur against his lips, pulling back just enough to catch your breath. “Someone’s getting confident.”

Kai’s face flushes, but he doesn’t look away this time. Instead, he surprises you by leaning back in, capturing your mouth in a kiss that’s deeper, hungrier than before. It’s clumsy in a way that’s still undeniably Kai, but there’s so much raw emotion behind it that you don’t care. Your fingers tighten in his hair as you press closer, your heartbeat thundering in your chest. His glasses are getting in the way again, and you reach up to pull them off, tossing them onto the bed without breaking the kiss. Kai freezes for half a second, like he’s startled, but then he relaxes, his grip on your waist tightening as he pulls you closer. 

You can feel the heat radiating off him, his breathing uneven against your lips. There’s a tension in the air now, something electric that makes your skin tingle and your heart race. “Kai,” you murmur, your voice barely more than a whisper. 

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his face flushed and his eyes darker than you’ve ever seen them. “Is this… okay?” he asks, his voice shaky but earnest. 

You smile, brushing your thumb against his cheek. “More than okay,” you say softly. “Take it off.” You heaved, referring to your cheer top. Kai pulled back a look of bewilderment on his face before he made quick work of lifting your cheer top and exposing your bare chest to his eyes. “You're doing a good job baby boy.” 

He lets out a nervous laugh, his hands still resting on your waist. “I’m just… following your lead.” 

“Well,” you say, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You’re doing a pretty amazing job.” 

Kai’s breath hitches, and for a moment, it feels like the whole world has shrunk down to just the two of you. You’re not thinking about tutoring sessions or practice kisses anymore. All you can think about is him—how warm he is, how his lips feel against yours, and how you never want this moment to end. “Can we keep going?” he whispers, his voice so soft you almost don’t hear it. 

Your heart skips a beat at the vulnerability in his tone, the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that matters. You smile, threading your fingers through his hair again. “Yeah,” you say, your voice just as soft. “We can keep going.” And when he leans in to kiss you again, there’s no hesitation, no awkwardness. 

“You know…” You trailed off separating yourself from his touch. “I can teach you other things too..” 

“R-really?” He stutters out, his eyes flicking back and forth from your face to your chest. 

“Mhm..” You hummed. You pulled back more creating a bit of distance between the two of you. Your finger poked Kai’s broad chest causing him to fall back against the plush pillows of the bed with a huff. 

“How often do you play with yourself Kai?” You asked him, licking your lips. His face turned flushed at the question. 

“Uh-..” He stumbled on the words “Couple-couple times a week.” 

“Yeah?” You hooked the loops of his pants with your fingers slowly pulling them down and around his ankles as he laid almost flat on your bed. “Do you cum?” 

“Y-yeah.” He huffed “A lot.” 

“Good, good.” You hummed. “I’m going to help you. Is that ok?” 

Kai nodded his lips parting as he watched you reach for his boxers next. 

“Since you like my tits so much… I'm going to use them to make you cum.” You yanked his boxers down with one fail swoop. “Then i’m going to fuck you, and as a prize you can cum inside me.” 

Kai’s groan rang free throughout the entire room, his chest heaving up and down in tandem with his quick breaths. “O-ok” With his erection now front and center you brought your lips forward, licking up the expanse of his dick all the way to head before leaving a light kiss on the bright red tip. 

“Oh.” Kai hissed at the small amount of contact. You let a glob of spit form in your mouth spitting out so it landed onto his length with a splatter.

“I need to get it wet.” You said sheepishly, taking his dick in your hands and pumping up and down using your spit as lubricant. Kai was flustered, his chest moving up and down and his face as bright as a tomato. 

You squeezed your breasts together before engulfing his length between them, pushing them up and down on his length creating the perfect pocket for him. 

“Does that feel good, baby boy?” You asked him, moving your tits at a steady pace. Kai didn't respond, his mouth completely agape as he pushed himself onto his elbows to watch you as you worked. 

“I said, does it feel good?” You grit out landing a quick smack to his thigh in an attempt to get him to use his words. He was a mess. 

“Yes!” He hissed “Feels s-so good.” 

“Better than your hand, huh.” You quirked, continuing to move your tits along his length. 

“Y-yes so much better.” His voice carried as a catalyst for you to keep going. His hips stuttered as you moved your tits fast along his length squeezing them together to create a tight hold on his throbbing cock. “Tight” His lips were lined with what looked like a tight lipped smile. You were surprised he was lasting this long for a virgin. You bobbed your head forward licking at his tip that poked out of your tits every once and while. A whine left his lips, high pitched and oh so adorable. 

“Close, baby?” You asked him, continuing your movements on his cock. 

“Mhm.” He mumbled watching where your tits and his cock met. There was no way his eyes were looking away from the sight. He was entranced, looking down at you with big doe eyes. His expression itself was enough to make you near your own end even without being touched. You rubbed your thighs together searching for some semblance of friction. 

“I-i’m going to cum-” Kai whined. He raised off the bed, jerking up creating more friction. “F-uck.” 

“That’s it.” You praised as ropes of his cum landed onto your tits painting them with his spend. “Good job.” You smiled, running your hands up and down his thighs in an attempt to calm him down. 

“You ok?” You asked, as he continued to breathe heavily. His nod was the only confirmation you received. 

“That was way better than my hand has ever been.” He chuckled, plopping down on the mattress. 

“If you thought that was good, wait until you feel how tight my pussy is.” You sent him a playful grin reaching for the hem of your skirt and panties in one, pulling them down until you were completely bare in front of him. Kai sat back up his eyes narrowing in on your body in all it’s naked glory. 

“Holy-” He stuttered, eyes adorably wide. 

“What?” You asked tilting your head playfully “Never seen a naked girl before?” 

“Not in the flesh.” He mumbled with red cheeks. “Only ever in porn.” 

You took it upon yourself to crawl onto the bed stopping just before him. “I assume you don't have any condoms?” 

“No..” He trailed off. 

“That’s ok.” You smiled straddling him. “I’m clean and on the pill.” You ran your hands up and down his shirt covered chest. Sitting fully naked on him, his cock resting on your thigh. You could feel the thump of his heart against his rib cage under your palms. It was cute how nervous he was.

“Are you ready?” You said, lifting his cock in your hand running your fist up and down on him. He gasped at the pleasure of your fist, licking his lips. 

“I’m ready.” He steadied his voice trying to show some dominance. You giggled at him before lifting your hips. You tapped his tip against your entrance before sinking down on him. You gasped slowly, allowing yourself to feel him all the way to the hilt. 

“Fuck.” You cursed. You steadied yourself on his chest, looking down to see him looking up at you. His mouth was slightly agape but no sound had fallen from his lips. His chest rising and falling. “You're big.” You grunted as you finally lifted yourself up, to slam yourself back down. 

“Oh god.” He hissed out. Kai grabbed onto your hips with an almost bruising grip. Moans fell from his lips like a mantra allowing himself to feel the pleasure coursing through his veins. “You feel so…warm.” 

“Touch me.” You pant grabbing his hand and bringing it to where your heat meets his pelvis. “Circle my clit- just like that.” 

Kai’s hips jerked up a surge of pleasure shooting up your spine at the sudden movement. “Oh-” 

“Keep doing that.” You hissed “Keep lifting your hips like that baby.” Your hand wrapped around the base of Kai’s throat squeezing at it. Kai’s hips lifted again, reaching places you didn't even know you could reach. His gasp was heard around the room as you tightened your hold on his neck. 

“I’m close, keep touching me.” You begged moving your hips faster against him. 

“I’m going to cum-” His voice loudly said you wouldn't be surprised if the rooms around you didn't hear. “Keep going.”

You continued your movements on him lifting yourself up and down chasing your high to the very end. 

“I’m-oh fuck.” Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, jerking your body forward onto his chest. Kai’s gasp was the only thing you heard as you felt his warm ropes of cum fill you to the brim inside of you. 

“Holy fuck.” He breathed, jerking his hips a bit more before stilling inside of you. His hands ran down the expanse of your back as the both of you fought to catch your breath. 

You sat up still inside of him, a smile reaching the corner of your lips. Kai’s eyes were wide as if he was just now realising what the two of you had done. 

“I have to admit..” You trailed off “Out of all my tutors I'd say you’re for sure my favorite.” 

taglist - (★) @izzyy-stuff , @beomiracles , @filmnings , @dawngyu , @hyukascampfire , @saejinniestar , @notevenheretbh1, @biteyoubiteme

[mischievousmoony]

hi, ok i have another idea for a fic which again totally up to you to write!! but i had an idea with dad!james and r where their kid is like equally obsessed with their mum as james is with r and one day james decides to prank their kid by saying something bad about the r while their kid is present and the baby just goes off. i feel like you would do an amazing job with this! feel free to ignore too. have a perfectly splendid day!!

-🪷

"the baby just goes off" painted a hilarious picture of an infant yelling at his dad in my mind lmao. ty for the request this warmed my heart to write + special thanks to @moonpascal for chatting a little about kids, gave me the reassurance & inspiration i needed

𝚋𝚞𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚜

⟢ dad!james potter x fem!reader ⊹ 1.1k ⟢ warnings/tags: fluff, dad/husband!james, mom/wife!reader, no use of y/n, no name for the son, idk how to write a child's dialogue tbh son's supposed to sound 4 years old

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

James gladly goes out of his way to mention to anyone who will listen that his little one is unmistakably a Mummy's boy. From family to friends to the poor souls who bag his groceries, James will talk the ear off of anyone he can.

He finds it to be the most endearing thing in the world— the way that your son is as obsessed with you as James is. Always staying close and clinging to you, touching affection radiating from every hug and smile.

Today, as he watches his son run back and forth across the carpet, handing his mother block after block just to see her face light up after each gift, his awe and admiration are insurmountable.

Last night, James surprised you with a pair of earrings that you have been wishing for. When your face lit up upon receiving the little leatherette box, so did your son's. He didn't quite understand why you were so excited about some cube, but since then he's been trying to replicate your excitement with presents of his own.

"Oh my! Another one! Thank you, buddy," you beam, you're gratefulness and delight unwavering as he hands you the sixth block.

Your son giggles, bouncing in his spot as you inspect each side of the little wooden toy, telling him how much you adore the blue penguin painted on one of its faces.

That's another thing that touches James' heart: the tender nurture and care that you bestow upon your son with such unwavering devotion and warmth. It has James convinced that you must be the best mum in the entire world.

He might just melt at the sight of you now, kneeling happily in front of a growing pile of blocks as your son scurries back and forth, adding to your collection. James sits cross-legged to your right, resting his elbow on his knee and laying his head in his hand, watching the two he loves most in the world with hearts in his eyes.

You gasp, as if surprised when handed block number seven. "Oh, this is my favorite one yet. How did you know I love zebras?" you ask, your thumb tracing over the red acrylic paint on the side of the block.

By the time you have twelve, nearly half of his collection, you say, "I have a lot of blocks here, buddy, do you want to give some to Daddy?"

"No!" your son protests immediately, running off to his toy box for the thirteenth time.

You and James both chuckle, exchanging amused glances. Finding your son's reaction hilarious, James’s mischievous side has him dreaming up new ways to push his buttons. Your son thinks the world of you, and James is curious to see what the little guy will do if he claims otherwise.

"Well, what am I gonna do with all of this? Should I..."

You leave your son in suspense for a moment, and his hands hover over his toy box as looks at you, hanging onto your every word in anticipation.

"...build a castle!?"

“Yeah!” your son cheers, scooping three more blocks into his arms, thrilled to supply the bricks for your castle.

James nudges you, a sign of his upcoming playfulness. “You sure about that, bud? Mummy is absolutely rotten at building castles.”

Halfway across the carpet, your son stops in his tracks, glaring at his father as he tries to keep his blocks from falling out of his arms.

Stifling a laugh, you press your fingertips to your lips. By now, you’re used to James’ bursts of mischief, and you’re more than happy to sit back and let them play out. Unless you’re an active participant, of course.

You muster up a scandalized gasp as he reaches for your mountain of presents, claiming three blocks in one hand.

“No!” your little one complains, rushing to drop his three in your lap to replace the ones that James stole, “those are Mummy’s!”

“You sure Mummy deserves all these blocks?” James asks, starting to stack them into a tower, “You watch, I’ll build a castle that’ll make her’s look like rubbish.”

Your son hastily makes his way over to his dad, both arms extended as he collides with the tower and sends the blocks flying. "Stop it," he says as he scoops up the nearest block and runs it back over to you, shouting, "Mummy's castles are the best!"

He climbs into your lap, clutching onto the toy tightly as one of your arms wraps around him, and you feel your heart start to melt as you rub soothing circles into his back. You look over your son's head, your eyes sparkling with affection as you meet your husband's tender gaze.

Not having the heart to mess with him for very long, James concedes, "You're right, I'm not being very nice, am I?"

"Nuh-uh!" your son replies, shaking his head with exaggeratedly vigor, the curls he gets from his dad bouncing about.

"What can I do to make it up to her?" James asks, turning the ordeal into a subtle lesson as he dramatically feigns sorrow and despair over his actions.

"'Pologize," your son commands, his head swiveling to look at James expectantly over his shoulder.

James puts on his most sheepish, apologetic smile, looking from his son to you. "I'm very sorry. He's right, your castles are the best. Can you forgive me, love?"

"Aw, of course I forgive you," you say warmly, your amusement manifesting as a wide smile. You lean back so you can get a good view of your son's face when you tell him, "You know, I bet what Daddy really wants is to build a castle with us. I love your presents, bud, but we don't want to leave Daddy out do we?"

He looks down at the block in his little hand. "No," he replies shyly.

"So why don't you ask him to build a castle with us?" You give him a pat on the back before releasing him from your arms. "Go on," you coax.

He steps closer to James, holding the block close to his chest. "We can all build a castle," he offers.

"Yeah?" James' face lights up, and it's not for show. Genuine joy takes over his features as he ruffles your son's hair, responding, "I'd love nothing more, little man."

"But you have to be nice to Mummy!" he demands, his little voice firm and earnest as he looks up at James with wide, serious eyes.

"I promise, I will be on my best behavior," James assures him, his voice sincere as he gives a playful salute. That's enough for your son, because he finally awards James with his very first block, which he accepts with pride.

"Good!" your son cheers, already moving on to the pile of blocks to start stacking them as he proclaims, "Mummy is the best, and we have to show it!"

Your lips part as you suck in a breath, a quiet gasp. Receiving your son's affection never fails to make your heart swell.

You don't feel James' eyes on you, but he's watching— admiring, more like, as he takes in the way that you soften at your son's sweet words. A smitten smile plays at his lips as he agrees, "She is the best, isn't she?"

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

I WANT YOU CLOSER, CLOSER EVEN STILL ; SUGURU GETO

synopsis; in the midst of a rainshower, you run into your mysterious classmate.

word count; 6.1k

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, implied no curses au, fluffy summer vibes, forced proximity (my beloved <3), pining, very shoujo manga coded, vague allusions to sugu having a troubled background, (kind of same w reader), switching povs, gojo slander, stsg implications if you squint (my brand), he’s a sweet sweet boy and i love him :((

a/n; teen sugu reminds me a lot of the kind upperclassman type of otome game li… with secret emotional baggage that makes his route really hard to complete….. anyway i dedicate this fic to hit mobage jujutsu kaisen: phantom parade PLEASE bring sugu home to me please please please ple

geto looks beautiful in the rain. 

it’s an embarrassing first thought to have, as he rounds the corner and comes into view. a black head of hair, making you stop in your tracks, breathe in a gulp of humid air.

you can’t help it, though.

it’s raining. droplets ricochet against the sidewalk in an endless cadence, the sky above you blanketed by gray clouds; enveloping your city in a summery shadow, the scent of hot concrete and blossoming hydrangeas. everything smells of a blistering summer, youth in a bottle cap. tasty on your tongue.

those very same hydrangeas surround him, on all sides, framing his figure like a painting come to life — splotches of colour, flecks of purple and pink and blue, clashing with the gray sky and the black umbrella in his hand. he looks a little disheveled, hair a little frizzy, bangs sticking to his skin. oddly at peace. when his eyes meet yours, you see a flash of recognition — a tiny spark in the amber hue. 

you take that as your cue to move closer. 

he waits for you, always so patient, smiling as you look both ways before crossing the street — shoes hitting the concrete in a steady thud, thud, thud. a splash from the puddle you step in.

you’re in a good mood. veins flooding with sugar and buzzing with joy, raindrops sticking to your skin and the plastic bag in your hand, absently humming along to a song playing through your headphones. your clothes are soaked, but you’re smiling; swinging the bag of treats as you walk. bags of chips, colourful lollipops, bottles of ramune, clinking together for every step you take. enough to last you a couple weeks. in your good mood, you ended up stocking up on your classmates’ favorites — bouncing on the balls of your feet at the thought of giving them away, seeing their satisfied little expressions.

you even got something for gojo. he’ll have to fight for it, obviously, but you look forward to seeing his face light up when he takes a bite of the soft mochi.

(you like giving them things. it’s fun. it makes you feel like a normal high school kid.)

nothing can dampen your spirits right now. the entire world smells of rain, and hydrangeas, and apple blossoms from the backyards behind you. a scent that creeps into your bloodstream, sneaks into your breath. a smile grows on your lips — blooming even brighter when you step into your classmate’s orbit.

”hey!” you chirp, raising a hand up in greeting.

”hey,” geto echoes, voice honeyed and smooth, bringing a hand up to wipe at his forehead. wet from the humid air. ”out on a walk?”

with a smile, you lift the plastic bag, grabbing his attention. clasping it tightly, with your wet fingers. ”just went to get some snacks. you?”

”i wanted to get some fresh air,” he smiles. eyeing you up and down. ”did you forget your umbrella?” 

silently, he takes in your appearance. your breathing is a tiny bit laboured, and the flimsy, oversized hoodie you’re wearing is sticking to your skin. it’s all that protects you from the steady downpour; no umbrella to be seen. you look small, tilting your head up, meeting his gaze. he feels the beginnings of a smile play at his lips. exasperated. all you do is blink, seemingly unbothered, as if you aren’t straight on the road to catching a cold. you can be a little scatterbrained. 

maybe that’s why he can’t help but dote on you.

(that’s what satoru calls it, at least. suguru thinks it’s just called being nice — not like satoru would know anything about that.)

”oh. no, i didn’t forget.” you scratch at the back of your neck. ”just didn’t know it was going to rain.”

the sudden downpour gave you no time to prepare, heavy and abrupt — clouds obscuring the glowing sun in what felt like no more than a second. like someone high above flicked the light switch of the world. all you could do was pull your hood up, try to walk under whatever apple tree you came across. it didn’t help much, though. 

you shift your weight from one foot to the other, soles weighed down with dew. sort of sheepish.

geto chuckles, raspy and soft. the sound makes your heart skip a beat. ”didn’t you see the weather report?”

”well, it… just slipped my mind, i guess.”

silently, you avert your gaze. now you remember — yaga-sensei did mention that, didn’t he? you heard him say it. but you just forgot.

geto is laughing at you, a little, from within his eyes; at least that’s the impression you get. so you continue, eager to defend your honour. 

”it’s fine, though,” you assure him, smiling brightly. a sunny grin. ”i like the rain!”

geto raises an unimpressed brow, but the expression fades away just as swiftly — giving way to something softer. ”you’re heading back to the dorms, right?” he asks, continuing once you give him a slight nod. ”then we can share.”

you blink. one moment passes, then two. but geto only smiles, shifting his umbrella a little, hoping you’ll get the hint. silently beckoning you over. 

it makes you feel oddly flustered.

in truth, you and him aren’t particularly close. he’s nice to you, sure, but geto is nice to everyone. you’d like to call him a friend, but what do you actually know about him? not much. 

suguru geto is a bit of an enigma. a little mysterious. he’s polite, well-mannered, and he seems like the most normal of your classmates — but the bar is in hell, because you know for a fact geto isn’t normal either. no normal guy deliberately chooses to keep his bangs like that. 

there’s a gap, there. a kind of inconsistency. he’s hard to approach, but he puts you at ease. pulls you in and scares you off. with a soft voice and kind smile, keen eyes and a heavy palm on your head. sometimes he brings you snacks when you study in the library, or helps you with homework. kind of like a dependable senpai. someone to lean on.

… but then there’s that gap. 

the real geto, who you’ve only seen glimpses of, only ever in gojo’s vicinity, is boyish and bright — he laughs and pouts and takes up space. he glows brighter than the sun. but the geto you’re seeing, right now, is more like the moon. wearing a polite, patient smile. standing up straight.

waiting for you to join him under his umbrella.

(he’s kind. but is he doing it because wants to, or because he feels obliged to?)

”… oh.” a pause. ”no, it’s fine!” you take a step back, quick to reassure him. ”i can walk there without it! i’m already soaked, anyway.”

geto observes you. for a moment, something in his expression flickers; a crease between his brows.

then he shakes his head. still wearing a comforting smile, the same one he always slips on when he’s around you. ”still. we don’t want you catching a cold,” he persists, sounding something like a nagging mother. ”you’ll miss the exam next week.”

and with that, your shoulders drop. 

right — the exam. the one you haven’t been studying for in the slightest, completely distracted by the feeling of summer in the air. the one you can’t fail, under any circumstances, because yaga-sensei can and will force you to take summer classes ad compensation. that exam. 

a wistful sigh leaves your lips. ”god, i wish.”

geto chuckles — a little deeper than usual. it makes your heart flutter. then he’s beckoning you over, again, with a slight shake of his head. 

”c’mon. there’s enough room for two.”

he gives you that same familiar smile, and you’re forced to admit that you might be slightly weak to it. something about the way his lips tug upwards, the light crinkle of his eyes. a certain glint in them that tells you he’s not budging on the issue. 

you’re still a little hesitant. but…

(this is a chance, isn’t it? a chance to bridge that gap between you.)

silently, shyly, you join him under his umbrella. shielding you from the still falling rain.

pitter patter, pitter patter. you don’t know where the rain ends and your own heartbeat begins. he’s so close — your shoulders nearly brushing together. it makes your nerves bubble up, in rhythm with the droplets bouncing off the cover up above. you feel stiff. the tiny, miniscule gap between you feels like a sweltering stove, radiating a heat that warns you to stay away. as if his touch could burn you. like this, you can even smell him; fresh laundry, an earthy cologne. the slightest hint of caffeine and tobacco. you blame it on shoko — the whole dormitory smells of cigarettes, thanks to her. 

it’s comforting, though. his scent. blending together with the aroma of rain, wet earth, blooming flowers. with his fragrance smoothing over all your senses, the closeness between you a constant reminder of the situation you’re in, you can’t bring yourself to look at him. 

all you do is murmur out a quick thanks, as you begin to walk, in tandem.

geto can’t help but steal a glance at you, out of the corner of his eye. you look a little meek, a little flustered. he hopes the narrow distance between you isn’t making you feel too uncomfortable. 

just to be sure, he angles his body away from yours. ever so slightly, one subtle step away, to make the gap a little wider. then, as discreetly as he can manage, he tilts the umbrella in your direction — not wanting the never-ending drops of rain to graze your skin. he can feel them, now, soaking through the material of his shirt, hitting his shoulder. but he doesn’t mind. to his relief, you don’t seem to notice. he’s pretty sure you’d protest; and as enjoyable as another friendly squabble would be, he’d prefer to avoid it for now.

you’re nice. accommodating, he thinks, in a subtle kind of way. always showing up with trinkets after your little outings, offering to get everyone a drink on your way to the vending machines. you’re friendly with the other two; always nagging at shoko to stop smoking, even when she just rolls her eyes and calls you a goody two shoes. recently, you’ve even started to be patient with satoru, even when he tries to get a rise out of you. it wasn’t like that at the start of the year. geto wonders what changed. 

he’s a little interested in you. just a little. you’re sweeter than the other two, easier to worry over. he saw you trip over your own shoelaces last week. you’re a little clumsy, a bit of a ditz — airheaded. maybe that’s why he can’t help but feel protective of you. satoru brushes everything off with a cheeky grin, and shoko is self-sustaining, but you’re often in need of a helping hand. the last time he tried that with the other two, they wouldn’t stop calling him mother geto until he smacked them over the head with satoru’s shounen jump issue. 

it makes him feel out of place — when he doesn’t have anything to tend to. itchy, a feeling of dread crawling up his throat. peace and quiet feels suffocating, when he isn’t in total control over it.

so, in his own way, small as it may be, geto enjoys taking care of you. grabbing you a carton of strawberry milk, or warding satoru away when he’s annoying you a little too much. he likes the smile you grace him with when he does. it’s pretty. and it’s all geto really knows about you — that, and that there’s a tenderness to you that’s hard to fake. it’s not much to go on.

so this is the perfect opportunity to learn more. 

(a heartfelt connection. something he’s always, always craved. something that maybe he can finally have, with satoru, and shoko, and you — 

if you’re willing, that is.)

”hey,” he starts, breaking the rainfilled silence. keeping his umbrella steady, leading you both away from a big puddle in the middle of the sidewalk. ”can i ask you something?”

you raise your head to look at him. blinking owlishly, at the sudden question, nerves beginning to rise again. he sounds kind of serious. did you do something? paranoia gnaws anxiously at the ridges of your ribs, but all you can do is swallow empty air and stammer out a meek reply.

”… uh, sure!”

geto glances over at you, his eyes meeting yours. that gaze of his is kind of heavy — the deep colour of his eyes coaxing you closer, luring you in. honey and amber, splotches of cedar and flecks of gold.

they’re pretty.

”this might be kind of a weird question,” he begins, reaching a hand up to adjust his bun, sneaking a finger under the black hair tie. voice light; to put you at ease. ”but i’m just curious.” 

he looks ahead, at the street before you, only meeting your stare once you give him a slight tilt of your head. then he parts his lips.

”why did you come here?”

you blink. 

silently, confusion painting the interior of your iris, you stare at him. waiting for a clarification that doesn’t come, before giving him a hesitant answer. ”… to get snacks?”

geto has the audacity to laugh, after such a vague question. the sound is light and breathy, melting together with the pitter patter of the rain, and for some reason it strikes you as sincere. ”not like that,” he grins. ”i mean, why did you come to the school in the first place?”

ah. 

that’s a different question. harder to answer. he must notice your hesitance, the puzzlement in your features, because he’s quick to elaborate. hiding a smile behind his fist, disguised as a cough.

(you’re sort of cute when you’re confused.)

”i mean — it’s an odd choice, isn’t it? far off the map, barely any students....” you nod along, and he continues. ”i don’t know about your background. but moving away from home must be kind of tough, right?” when he glances in your direction, you notice a sparkle of genuine curiosity in his eyes. ”so i was curious about your reason. if you feel comfortable telling me, i mean.”

a hum. it buzzes in your throat, absentminded, as you stare into space. brows furrowed. 

geto gives you time, as much time as you need, always willing to wait. for a minute or so, the only sounds that fill the space around you are the pitter patter of raindrops hitting the plastic cover of umbrella, and the sound of your shoes meeting puddles on the street. silently, you ponder the question. thinking of your answer.

geto has a point. you’ve been curious, too — about how your classmates ended up in such an eccentric little school, so detached from the rest of the world. a quirky private school in the middle of nowhere. you must all be a little eccentric yourselves. that’s probably why you feel so safe with them — you get the sense that you’re all lacking something. something that would ward normal kids away from such an unorthodox choice.

you could say you were just going with the flow. a relative of yours used to work with yaga-sensei, and heard about his position at a newly reinstated private school — heard that he was looking for students to fill the roster. 

so you accepted.

(if it was really that simple, geto would already have his answer.)

what drew you in, more than anything, was the promise of something new. a strange, small school, far away from home; from the people you know, the town you know, the life that you’ve lived. far away from the person you are, the person you was, the person you’ve always been.

an escape. that’s all it was. 

a way out.

he’s still waiting for your answer, even now, trying to read your thoughts off your face. eyes trailing over every contour. very briefly, you consider dodging the question — but his silent, steady presence squeezes a little honesty out of you. 

you want to give him a genuine answer.

”… i guess,” you begin, weighing the words on your tongue. they feel stale, a little awkward, but not dishonest. ”i wanted to stop being me for a bit.” 

the words are unexpected, surprising even to your own ears — like your mouth and your mind weren’t quite cooperating, one ahead of the other, one not weighing in on the honest choice. they catch geto off guard. 

he looks at you, silently, attempts to dissect your expression; but he doesn’t succeed. 

for a second, something flashes in his eyes. a glimmer that you just barely catch, that you can still sense behind his eyelids when they flutter shut. you’re not sure what to call it. recognition, maybe, or something like empathy. a sense of acknowledgement. it’s gone when he opens his eyes. 

he doesn’t look at you when he answers.

”… i get that.”

there’s a depth to his words that you’re afraid to uncover. you feel their weight, all the same, glancing up at him, studying his expression, the humid drops of dew that stick to his lashes. and you feel a tug. faint, non-existent, the string between your pinkies —

a growing connection. 

(it makes you feel oddly bare.)

all you can give him is a chuckle, a little breathless. ”do you?” you ask, grinning weakly. ”it’s a little melodramatic.”

geto only smiles. silent, comfort personified. there’s no judgement in his eyes, none whatsoever — because he knows exactly what you mean.

fleeing from the past. 

it’s a kind of murder, he thinks. a rebirth.

maybe the two of you are similar. similar in the sense that he recognizes the shadow in your eyes, the one he sometimes sees in mirrors; familiar in the sense that you both suffer from that same sickening awareness. 

(maybe you want the same thing he wants, what he’s always wanted — 

control.)

it’s a realization that creeps up on you, the both of you, slow and steady. a sense of kinship. it envelops you, cradles you close, in the same way molten clouds cover the summer sky.

geto isn’t lying, you can tell. he does get it. you know, just from that tilt of his voice, the way his eyelashes flutter, his absent shifting from one foot to another. and it soothes your worries.

everything is silent, for a bit. you look down at the asphalt, at your own reflection in a puddle, and geto gazes at the bushes of hydrangeas to his right. you feel safe, right next to him, under his umbrella. and he feels content to have you there. your shoulders brush together, for a moment, and it sends a jolt through your heartbeat.

geto inhales a breath.

”by the way —” 

”— have you studied for the exam?”

you both still. blurting out the words at the same time, turning to look at each other; sheepishly blinking in the other’s direction.

then he barks out a laugh.

”sorry,” he hums, a sleek smile on his lips. bright and sheepish. ”what was that? the exam?”

”ah — yeah,” you feel heat settle on the back of your neck, crawling up your ears. ”have you, um, studied for it at all?”

geto moves the umbrella from one arm to the other, smoothly directing you to stand on his right instead of his left. guiding you with his hand on your lower back, ghosting the fabric of your clothing. he stretches his free arm, a little stiff.

”yeah,” he exhales. ”not a lot, though.”

”really?” you blink up at him, trying not to blush at how easily he maneuvered you. stupid, stupid heartbeat. ”you strike me as the honour student type…”

geto scoffs. it leaves his lips before he can tug it back. ”satoru said the same thing.”

a breath spills from your lips, almost a chuckle. you’re not sure how to feel about being compared to gojo, of all people, but you’ll let it slide this once. ”well, you just kinda have that vibe.”

now he’s huffing, tethering on the edge of something childish, and your smile grows. you’re seeing him make a lot of new expressions today. 

”why, though?” comes a sigh. he must be playing it up, a little — you almost get fooled into thinking he’s pouting. ”is it the hair? i don’t even wear glasses anymore...”

”well —” you pause. ”hold on, you used to wear glasses?”

all you get is an absent hum. he doesn’t notice your wide, shellshocked eyes. ”when i was younger. i got rid of them a couple years back.”

“oh…” you try to imagine it, for a second. he’d look frighteningly good in them. just barely, you manage to keep yourself from saying it out loud. ”i think it’s more just your general personality. like, you’re responsible and polite… or something.”

and geto chuckles; the intersection between a teasing smile and a soft grin. it’s just a little bit ethereal, painted over with the humid summer air. he turns towards you.

”and that makes me an honour student?” 

”… okay, maybe not.” you bring a hand up to your hair, fixing it absently. deflating a little. ”you just strike me as intelligent, i guess.”

geto smiles, again, as always. the chuckle that escapes him is faint and fond, and awfully soft, dripping down his lips. ”well, thank you.” 

his eyes are warm, burning into yours. all you can do is glance away. you still don’t really understand this sensation — why he’s suddenly so easy to talk to. why he feels like something other than just a classmate, when he looks at you like that. 

then again, geto has always been a natural at putting people at ease. maybe that’s why you can’t help but warm up to him, compliantly, the way a child dutifully follows the first butterfly they ever see — it’s a little too pretty to resist. 

you want to slip deeper into his world, you realize. you don’t want this moment to end so soon.

”you guys really get along, huh?” you change the subject, speaking slowly, savouring every syllable. there isn’t any rush to get the words out all at once, when you’re with him. 

geto blinks, tilting his head. 

”hm?”

“you and gojo, i mean.”

a glimmer passes through his eyes, as your query sinks in. ”ah. yeah.” his gaze strays upwards, and a contemplative look settles into his face. he knows what you’re after, what you’re really asking; why are the two of you so close? why do you put up with his antics? 

what do you see in him? 

he thinks it’s a fair question. it’s not like he hasn’t asked himself the very same thing, before — satoru can be annoying. ignorant, too, and terribly rude. a little prick. when he stole his curry bun yesterday, geto wanted to kill him. spoiled little brat.

(then again, he’s…)

”he’s… well.” geto exhales, a little breathless. tasting the words on his tongue. ”you know how he is — but he’s not a bad guy.” 

and it’s true. he really isn’t. satoru is a lot of things; rude and spoiled, cocky and bratty, an expert at ticking everyone off. but there’s a kind of charm, there. an innocence that geto admires. 

satoru is childish — because he is a child. a child who knows a lot of things that children shouldn’t know. a child who doesn’t know the most basic of things. satoru doesn’t know how to make friends. he doesn’t know how to ask for help, doesn’t know how to give it. he doesn’t know what cotton candy tastes like, because he’s never tried it before. 

his childhood couldn't have been very warm. it definitely wasn’t normal. 

is that why he puts up with him, then? out of pity? of course not. the bare thought of it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. he’d never look down on satoru, like that — and he knows he’d hate him for it. if anything, geto thinks that maybe the two of them are close because he doesn’t give him any special treatment. even if satoru wasn’t treated with warmth or love, he was certainly coddled. spoiled. it’s evident, in the way that he acts.

but satoru isn’t a god, and he shouldn’t act like one. 

one punch, right across the face; knocking the white-haired boy off his feet. that’s where their friendship began. there were stars in satoru’s eyes, geto thinks, when he looked up at him from the ground. sunglasses fallen off from the impact, blue eyes entirely on display, catching the light of the sun — gleaming with a certain bewilderment. almost amazement. like he didn’t know he could be hit, didn’t know it was possible. the sun shone down on him, illuminating the vague bruising on his cheek, and geto wondered if that was the first punch the boy had ever taken.

it certainly wasn’t a first for him, when satoru lunged at him next —

it was a little juvenile. more than a little deranged. geto isn’t one to throw fists, in the first place — he’s out of practice. the punch he fed satoru might’ve been a little too forceful. he couldn’t help but feel bad, every so slightly, for putting a bruise on that irritatingly pretty face of his. 

but it still ended with satoru’s arm around his shoulder, a buzzing voice by his ear, proclaiming them as friends. cheery and bright.

geto couldn’t help but echo the statement.

(satoru is a lot of things. 

most of all, he’s really hard to hate.)

geto’s answer brings a smile to your face. ”yeah,” you hum, soft voice breaking him out of his reverie. ”he isn’t.”

he looks at you. silently, a question of his own brewing in his irises — and with you so close, close enough to touch, smiling at him like he’s an old friend… geto can’t help but indulge in his own curiosity. 

he tries to appear nonchalant, stealing a glance at you out of the corner of his eye. ”seems like the two of you are getting along better, too.” 

”me and gojo?” you blink, surprised. a little flustered. huffing out an amused breath, trying to brush off the bare thought. ”no way.”

geto laughs — it’s a deep sound, a full one. somehow very earnest. you wonder if that’s how his laugh always sounds, whenever gojo’s involved. ”oh, come on. you don’t hate him that much.” a teasing glint blooms in his eyes, as he scrutinizes you. ”or am i wrong?”

you pause. faltering, a little, gaze falling down to the pavement — then to the sky — then to him. and then back to the pavement. 

”… i mean…” you attempt to squeeze the words out from within your chest, but you can’t help but feel hesitant. as if gojo could jump out of the bushes at any moment, ready to tease you if you say anything that paints him in an even moderately decent light. ”i don’t… hate him. but he’s still annoying.” a pout slips onto your lips. “he has it out for me, you know.”

geto laughs, again. you note that you’re fond of the sound. ”isn’t that because he likes you, though? he just doesn’t know how to show it. it’s like pulling pigtails.”

”don’t even joke about that,” you scoff, shooting him a scowl. “and that wouldn’t make it any better, even if it was true.”

a fond smile. ”yeah, you’re right.” he opts to dial down on the teasing, shifting into a more sincere tone. ”you do seem more friendly now, though. before it felt like you really hated his guts.”

a hum buzzes in your throat. brows furrowing, as you mull on what to answer with. unsure how you really feel. it’s not like you’re suddenly super close, or anything — but you have gotten friendlier. just by a smidge, but still. you’ve gotten better at putting up with him and his antics, at finding comfort in how open he can be.

after a tiny pause, you speak up. 

”… i still don’t really understand him.” you gnaw at the skin of your bottom lip, trapping it between your teeth. “but i think i might be starting to.” 

you’re a little embarrassed over the words that fall from your lips, barely above a whisper. 

”… he’s not the worst.”

geto smiles, but you don’t see it — gaze still lingering on the droplets that bounce off the pavement. ”i’m glad,” he hums, earnest. ”that guy needs more friends.”

something about his tone of voice urges you to look at him. that smile of his is bright, gleaming in the rain, in the midst of the flowers all around you. a little teasing, a little boyish, but somehow very sincere. you didn’t think you’d get to see it up close.

and you can’t help but chuckle. the raven-haired boy glances over at you, confusion in his eyes.

noticing it, you breathe out a quiet chuckle. ”sorry, it’s just —” a teasing grin smooths over your lips. ”you guys bicker a lot, and you act like he annoys you… but you really care for him, don’t you?”

this time, geto almost stops in his tracks. his eyes widen, slightly, and you’re not sure why he seems surprised — when he always sounds so fond saying satoru’s name, talking about him like they understand each other fully. maybe he didn’t notice it until now. 

a moment passes, before he collects himself, clearing his throat and averting his gaze. awfully good at keeping his composure. 

(though he fails to fully conceal the flustered look on his face.)

”i wouldn’t go that far,” he mumbles, but it only makes you chuckle again. his lips curl up slightly, at the sound; despite his embarrassment. ”someone’s gotta look out for that idiot.”

”right. of course.”

geto gives you a displeased little look. you bite back a laugh. feeling at ease, by his side — you get the sense that you can trust him, that you could tell him absolutely anything, and he still wouldn't use it against you. it’s a relief.

standing there, under geto’s umbrella, in the shadow of summer, rain obscuring the world — you reach a definitive conclusion.

you want to get to know him. want to see inside his heart, hear more of his thoughts. if you could only step over that gap between you, wriggle your way into his world — 

you think you’d be happy.

so, as you walk side by side, narrowly avoiding puddles and breathing in the humid summer air, you try to coax them out of him. little thoughts, bits and pieces of the suguru geto you yearn to meet.

(unbeknownst to you, he’s doing the same.)

you continue to talk. about miniscule things, meaningless things, a comfortable sensation of trust simmering in the air between you. and before you know it, you’ve stepped onto the school grounds, stopping right in front of the dormitory.

”here we are,” geto hums, folding the umbrella and tucking it between his arm and torso. you turn to look him in the eye, taking an absent step away.

”thanks, geto,” you can’t help but smile. ”for letting me walk with you.”

”don’t mention it.” he brushes you off with ease, quick to drag the door open; waiting for you to step inside before following suit. always so accommodating. 

for a second, he hesitates. a glimmer of uncertainty, in his eyes, that you miss — stretching out your tired limbs with a shallow groan, enjoying the warm and dry air on your skin. 

finally, geto takes the leap.

when he parts his lips, his voice comes out soothing. natural and breathy, floral patterns blooming on his tongue; as silky as jasmine petals. ”you can call me suguru, you know.” he lets the silence linger, for a moment. ”if you want to.”

you turn to look at him, eyes widening, at the sudden offer, and he can’t get a good read on the emotion reflected in them. you seem caught off guard, but he can’t tell if it’s a good or bad thing.

after a moment or two, you fumble for a response. 

”oh. um — okay? i will, then.” you shake your head, as if brushing off the hesitance you feel, mustering the courage to imitate his offer. ”in that case, you can call me by my first name, too.” 

a brief pause. 

”… if you want to.”

geto smiles. it’s laced with relief, hard to notice, impossible to miss. instead of answering with an affirmation, he takes a more teasing approach — unable to resist the temptation.

so he says your name. your first name, dragging the syllables out on his tongue, as if tasting it. trying to get used to the way the letters bend as they come out of his mouth. despite the teasing lilt it carries, the sound is oddly earnest; he pronounces it clearly, like he’s trying to call you to his side. you almost feel compelled to take a step towards him. 

geto looks you in the eye, as he calls you by your given name, for the very first time — and you can’t help but grow flustered.

”… suguru,” you echo, for whatever reason. you think your brain may be slightly fried. but it feels right, to say it. suguru. 

(what a pretty name.)

suguru smiles at you. you think it’s just a little wider than usual, a little more sincere. almost giddy, if you squint. in the open air, the intimate atmosphere simmers.

finally, you clear your throat, glancing in the direction of your dorm room. a silent que for him to follow.

and he does. leaving the umbrella by the hall, before walking you to your door. his steady, soothing presence sticking to your skin. you’re just about to place your fingers on the doorknob, when a pang of realization hits you — stopping you in your tracks.

”oh — right!”

swiftly, you turn on your heel, facing suguru again. he gazes down at you, bemusement in his eyes. watching as you rummage through the plastic bag hanging off your arm. finally, you find what you were looking for; holding it out towards him. 

”here,” you give him a warm smile. ”as thanks.”

suguru accepts it, compliantly, allowing you to slip a pack of gum into his palm. he recognizes the brand, one he favours over others. it helps him, on days he can’t find his appetite. 

did you see him chewing it at some point, he wonders? when, though? 

maybe you’re always paying attention to the people around you. the way they like their coffee, their favoured flavour of gum. it may be a small kindness, an absentminded one, but suguru thinks that makes it all the more meaningful. a kindness that seeps out of you, that draws him in. 

he wants to know more, about you. he really does.

but for now, this is enough. a walk back to your dorm, your shared home, talking and growing closer than before. 

it’s a small step, but in the right direction. 

the pack of gum stirs a mellow, tender feeling in his chest. all he can do is give you a smile, and a thank you that you’re quick to brush off. then you say your goodbyes, and you close the door behind you — flopping down on your bed with a muffled squeal. a giddy kind of excitement swimming in your veins. because finally, finally, you feel like the gap between you has been dented.

you know what his real laugh sounds like. that the tips of his ears turn pink when he’s embarrassed. you know that he used to wear glasses, that you’re a little more similar than either of you could have assumed.

you know that you’re fond of him. fond of a boy with black hair, who smells of summer and rain and chewing gum. fond of a boy you’ve only scratched the surface of.

on the other side of the door, suguru walks back to his room. with a pep in his step, one that satoru notices — because of course he does — appearing from around the corner with a shit-eating grin.

“oh? what were you doing over there, suguru?”

suguru ignores him. popping a piece of the gum you gave him into his mouth, a flavour of apricot melting on his tongue — he sinks his teeth into it, slowly, feeling his lips curl up into a smile.

it tastes of summer and youth. a memory that both of you will savour, for many years to come.

[happy74827]

Talk To Me

[Eggsy Unwin x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: With your boyfriend sneaking out 24/7 and always returning with carefully concealed injuries, it's only natural to be concerned.

WC: 3033

Category: Slight Angst + Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

I watched Carry-On last night (10/10 so good), and it got me re-thinking about one of my favorite films. Kingsman supremacy 🙌

『••✎••』

You loved Eggsy. Dearly. Truly.

You loved him so much that sometimes it scared you. How fiercely your heart clung to his smile, how tenderly your hands always seemed to reach for his, how naturally your entire world had shifted around him without you even realizing it. He was yours—scruffy, sweet Eggsy Unwin—and you believed you knew him. At least, you thought you did.

But then, the nights started.

At first, you didn’t think much of it. Everyone had their own struggles, and Eggsy never struck you as someone who’d open up easily about his. He’d always been the type to handle his own problems, to wear his hardships like armor rather than show them. But that was before the late-night disappearances, before the quiet footsteps across your floorboards, before you’d wake up in a cold bed at 3 a.m. to find him gone.

It didn’t happen all at once. It was gradual—so gradual you could almost convince yourself you were imagining it. One night turned into two. Two turned into a week. And before long, you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

The first time you tried to confront him, you did it gently. You’d asked him if everything was okay, masking your concern with casual curiosity. "You seem really tired lately, Eggsy. Is work being a pain?"

Eggsy had smiled, all teeth and dimples, and said, "Nah, luv. Just gotta lot on my plate, s’all."

You believed him because you wanted to.

But then there were the bruises.

The first one you noticed was along his jaw, faint and shadowed under the soft light of your kitchen. He’d winced when you kissed him there, just a tiny twitch of his lips, but enough to make you pull back. "You alright?" you’d asked.

Eggsy had waved you off. "Yeah, yeah, fine."

"Fine."

The word had felt too tight on his tongue, too forced. But you’d let it go because that’s what you did when someone you loved was hurting. You gave them space.

Except the bruises kept coming, each one a little harder to miss than the last. The faint cut above his brow, the stiffness in his shoulders when you hugged him, the way he’d flinch—just barely—when your fingers brushed against his ribs. And you noticed. Of course, you did. How could you not?

There was the other stuff, too. The sudden shift in his wardrobe. Gone were the trainers and bomber jackets, replaced with sharp suits and polished shoes. He’d started wearing glasses—ridiculous little round things that didn’t even have a prescription—and he carried himself differently now. Straighter. More serious. It wasn’t that you didn’t like the change. You did. Eggsy looked good in a suit, and you’d told him as much. But it was the why that lingered in the back of your mind.

Everything about him was changing, and yet you were still supposed to believe he was fine.

You weren’t stupid.

And so tonight, when you’d felt him slip out of bed yet again, something inside you had snapped. Enough was enough.

You stayed awake, feigning sleep as you listened to him shuffle around the room. You heard the soft clink of his belt buckle, the muted sound of a zipper, and then the quiet groan he let out as he bent to tie his shoes. He was trying to be quiet, but you could feel his movements, his tension, the exhaustion radiating off of him like smoke.

The front door closed behind him.

For a moment, you thought about following him. Your mind painted a dozen possibilities—none of them good—and the urge to know was almost overwhelming. But something held you back. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was the sick feeling that if you saw what Eggsy was hiding, you wouldn’t be able to unsee it.

So, instead, you stayed. You waited.

And you waited.

Hours slipped by, the quiet hum of the room punctuated only by the ticking of the clock and the occasional thump of your restless heartbeat. You sat in the darkness, curled up on the couch with nothing but your thoughts to keep you company.

It was almost dawn when you heard it—the sound of keys fumbling at the door.

Your breath caught as the door swung open, and there he was. Eggsy. Exhausted, disheveled, and dragging himself inside like he’d just run a marathon. He tripped over the shoes you’d left by the door, letting out a hushed curse as he stumbled and caught himself on the wall. "For fuck’s sake…"

You watched him for a long moment, your heart twisting. His shoulders were slumped, his face pale under the bruises, and there was an air of defeat clinging to him that you’d never seen before.

Your hand hovered over the lamp beside you.

Click.

Light flooded the room.

Eggsy froze. His wide, tired eyes met yours, and for a second, neither of you said anything.

"…Where were you?"

Your voice came out steady—colder than you intended—but you didn’t care. You needed answers.

Eggsy straightened up, wincing slightly as he did, and ran a hand through his messy hair. "What’re you doin’ awake?"

"Where were you, Eggsy?" you repeated, softer this time.

He opened his mouth to answer, but you saw the hesitation in his eyes. That flicker of guilt, of indecision. And it hurt.

You watched him—really watched him—take in the situation, his gaze darting from you to the lamp and back again. He looked so tired, the dark circles under his eyes stark against the pale exhaustion in his face. His bottom lip pulled tight between his teeth, and for a fleeting moment, you thought he might lie to you.

He always did that when he was nervous, chewing his lip like he was trying to hold the words inside.

And then he sighed.

"Look, luv—"

"No." You cut him off, surprising even yourself with the sharpness in your voice. Your heart was pounding now, a steady thud in your chest, and you swallowed the knot rising in your throat. "Don’t 'look, love' me, Eggsy. I’ve given you space. I’ve ignored the bruises. I’ve let you—whatever this is—carry on without question. But not anymore."

Eggsy’s mouth closed. He shifted on his feet, his wince almost imperceptible, but you caught it. You always caught it.

"Are you hurt?" you asked, voice trembling slightly despite the resolve you tried to hold. Your eyes dropped to the faint, bloodied scrape on his knuckles and the stiff way he held his side. "Jesus, Eggsy…"

"I’m fine." The words came out fast—too fast—and though they were meant to be firm, they only sounded hollow.

You flinched like the word was a slap. "You’re not fine."

He sighed again, this time deeper, and rubbed a hand over his face. "It’s complicated."

"Complicated?" you echoed, your voice pitching with disbelief. "Complicated is when you forget an anniversary or don’t know how to split rent. This isn’t complicated, Eggsy—this is you sneaking out in the middle of the night and coming home bruised and battered, and I’m scared."

There it was. The confession you’d been holding back. The thing that had been gnawing at you for weeks, clawing at your chest every time he slipped away. Your voice broke slightly, the words tumbling out like a dam had burst, and Eggsy’s face softened in a way that almost broke you.

You could see the guilt then, raw and unguarded, etched into the lines of his expression. He took a cautious step forward, but you held up a hand, needing the space to breathe.

"Do you…" Your voice faltered. You didn’t want to say it—didn’t want to voice the fear that had whispered in your mind during the loneliest hours of those nights. “Do you not trust me, Eggsy? Is there something you can’t tell me?”

Eggsy’s head snapped up at that, his brow knitting as if you’d insulted him. "What? No. No, it’s not like that."

"Then what is it?" Your voice cracked, and for the first time since this all started, you felt your eyes sting with tears. "Because I’m running out of scenarios, Eggsy. I thought maybe… maybe it was someone else, maybe you’d stopped loving me. But then I’d see the bruises, and I’d hear you groaning in your sleep, and…" You trailed off, pressing a hand to your forehead. "I can’t keep pretending everything’s fine when you’re falling apart right in front of me."

The room was silent save for your quiet, unsteady breaths. For a moment, you thought Eggsy wouldn’t answer, that he’d slip into that shell of his again and leave you stranded in this mess of unanswered questions.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he crossed the room in two quick strides, cupped your face in his hands, and kissed you.

It wasn’t a soft kiss—not like the ones he’d give you after long days or lazy mornings. It was desperate and grounding, like he needed to make sure you were real and that you still loved him despite everything. You froze for half a second, caught off guard by the sudden warmth of his lips on yours before you melted into it. Your hands gripped his wrists, holding onto him like an anchor as your heart hammered against your ribcage.

When he finally pulled away, you stared at him, breathless and reeling.

"Eggsy—"

"I’m sorry," he muttered, his forehead resting gently against yours. "I didn’t… I didn’t mean to make you think that. Any of that." His voice was low and earnest, the accent softening as the words spilled out. "You’re the only good thing in my life, alright? The only thing that keeps me goin’. It ain’t you—it’s me. I’m just… I’m tryin’ to keep you safe."

"Safe?" Your brows furrowed as you leaned back to look at him. "Safe from what, Eggsy?"

He hesitated. You could see the war playing out in his eyes—the push and pull of wanting to tell you the truth but still trying to protect you from it. He was holding something back; you knew that much. Something big.

Finally, he exhaled slowly. "It’s work. The bruises, the nights—I can’t tell you everything, but you gotta trust me when I say I’m doin’ it for you. For us."

"Eggsy…"

His thumb brushed along your cheek, and you realized then that you were crying—just a little.

"You’re right," he admitted softly, the words heavy with guilt. "I shoulda told you somethin’. Not everythin’, but… somethin’. I just didn’t want you to worry, love. Didn’t want you to see this part o’ me." He smiled faintly, the corners of his lips tilting upward. "You deserve better than this mess."

You stared at him, the boy who had somehow become a man without you noticing. His rough edges were still there—still scrappy, still stubborn—but there was something more now, too. He carried weight on his shoulders, weight he hadn’t let you see until tonight.

"I don’t care about the mess," you whispered, your hands sliding down to hold his. "I care about you. And if you’re hurting, I want to know. I want to help."

Eggsy blinked at you like he wasn’t sure he deserved to hear that. Then he pulled you into his arms, wrapping you up tightly as if trying to shield you from the rest of the world.

"You’re mental, you know that?" he mumbled into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. "Too good for me, you are."

Eggsy was warm against you, his arms solid and grounding, but you couldn’t let yourself melt into it—not entirely. Not when you could still feel the lingering tremor in his body, the careful way he was holding you like he was afraid of falling apart completely if he let go.

So you didn’t let it slide. Not this time.

You pulled back slightly, enough to look at him, your hands sliding to rest against his chest. He avoided your eyes for a beat too long, gaze flicking toward the floor as if the answers to all of your questions were scattered across the floorboards.

"Eggsy," you said softly, forcing him to look at you. "You’re doing it again."

His brows furrowed slightly. "Doin’ what?"

"Avoiding." You swallowed hard, your voice gentle but firm. "You keep saying you’re trying to protect me, but from what? From you? From whatever it is you’ve gotten yourself into? I can’t keep pretending I’m okay with half-truths and cryptic excuses."

He didn’t answer. His jaw clenched, his lips pressing into a tight line as the silence stretched between you like a taut wire. You watched him, the Eggsy you knew—the one who laughed too loudly, who lit up rooms with his smile—hidden behind this new, heavier version of himself. A man weighed down by secrets you weren’t allowed to touch.

You felt your throat tighten. "If you’re in trouble, I need to know."

"I’m not—"

"Gary." You said his name softly, but with enough weight that he stopped, his shoulders sagging just a little under your gaze. You could see the walls going back up, the way his expression started to close off again, and your heart ached. This wasn’t about control. It wasn’t about digging into things he didn’t want to share. This was about him—the man you loved. The man standing in front of you with bruises and exhaustion, painting him in shades of worry and pain you didn’t recognize.

"I love you," you whispered, the words breaking through the quiet. His head snapped up, his eyes finally locking onto yours. "I love you, Eggsy. But this—" you gestured gently between the two of you "—this isn’t fair. You don’t get to shoulder all of this alone. Not when I’m right here."

You could see the cracks in his resolve then, the guilt splintering through his expression like fractures in glass. Eggsy exhaled, a heavy breath that deflated his entire posture, and he reached up to cup your cheek again, his thumb brushing faintly at the tears still lingering there.

"It ain’t trouble," he muttered after a long pause, his voice low and rough like gravel. "Not like you’re thinkin’. I ain’t into anythin’ shady, I swear."

"Then what is it?" you asked softly. "Please, Eggsy. I’m not leaving. I’m not running. I just need to know what’s doing this to you."

He hesitated again, clearly grappling with something you couldn’t see. For the briefest moment, you thought he might tell you—might rip off the Band-Aid and let you into whatever world he’d been keeping you out of. But then, as if on instinct, he sighed and shook his head, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before resting his own against it again.

"You don’t wanna know, luv," he murmured, voice so soft it nearly disappeared into the space between you. "I promise you don’t."

You stared at him, your heart twisting painfully. You could feel it now—the invisible door he was trying to close, to lock between you—and the worst part was, you knew he thought he was doing the right thing. He thought he was protecting you.

But all you felt was the sting of being shut out.

"This isn’t fair," you said again, your voice trembling slightly. "You don’t get to decide what I can and can’t handle, Eggsy."

His lips parted slightly, and for once, he didn’t have a rebuttal. He just looked at you—really looked at you—as if weighing the woman in front of him against whatever dark reality he’d been hiding.

"I can handle it," you pressed, your voice steady this time. "Whatever it is, I can handle it. I can handle you."

Eggsy pulled back slightly, his hands slipping to your shoulders. There was a flicker of conflict in his eyes, and for the first time that night, you saw a hint of vulnerability beneath the surface. "It ain’t about you not bein’ strong enough," he said finally, his words slow and deliberate. "It’s about me not wantin’ you to see the worst parts of what I do."

"What you do?" you repeated carefully, and you saw him flinch—just barely—like he’d said too much.

"Eggsy, I don’t…"

He let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his messy hair. "Jesus Christ, I’m shite at this."

Your eyes searched his. Part of you wanted to press further—to keep pushing until the dam broke—but the other part could see his exhaustion, the way he was leaning slightly against the counter like his legs were struggling to hold him up. He looked so tired. So defeated. And you hated it.

You let out a soft sigh, taking his hand and lacing your fingers through his.

He stiffened.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. There was a question lingering between you, the same one you knew he was struggling to answer.

Tell her.

Don't.

It felt like an eternity had passed when you finally said his name, squeezing his hand gently.

His gaze lifted to yours.

And you let it go.

You didn't push. You didn't demand. You didn't ask. Because this wasn't a fight, you were going to win.

He wasn't ready.

So, instead, you just said, "Promise me something."

"Yeah?"

You hesitated, the words feeling heavier on your tongue than they had any right to be. You swallowed the lump rising in your throat and whispered, "Promise me you’ll come home."

Eggsy stilled.

It wasn't much of a request—more of a desperate hope that this wasn't all leading to some unavoidable ending you weren't ready for. It was an offer of surrender. A silent, exhausted plea to put the pieces back together, to stitch up the cracks before they could break.

He studied you, his tired eyes roaming over the lines of your face as if he could read the question lingering there.

And then he pulled you into his arms, a hand cradling the back of your head. You felt the warmth of his embrace, the weight of his body against yours, and your arms wrapped around him as tightly as you could. For a second, you weren’t sure if he would answer. If he even could.

And then, in the softest voice you'd ever heard, he whispered, "Always."

"For you, always."

[lostinlads]

Fluffy Treatment

Synopsis: Leaving for a month to travel around the world had been a breath of fresh air, but returning to your family's home is where your heart resided. Your first day back had been hectic, a grand meal with all of your parent's wealthy friends would be held to honor your return. But as you are getting ready, your family's cat butler, Zayne, has come to your side to help you. The mutual missing and longing couldn't be denied as it flowed between the both of you. He would obey his master.

Tags: zayne x femme!reader, MDNI IF YOU ARE A MINOR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED, smut, catboy!zayne, footjob, footplay, p in v, unprotected sex, master/servant play, secret relationship, aphrodisiac (catnip), no use of y/n

Words: 4.4k

an: Here is my fic of zayne's latest catboy card! this isnt completely accurate to the card just taking some inspiration from it, but i hope you enjoy either way!

ao3 | Yes, Cat Caretaker mini series | kofi

One month has come and gone - traveling the world, visiting friends, partying through the night. It honestly felt like a never-ending dream, but this morning when your driver pulled up to your family's estate, you couldn't help but feel relieved. 

One face has been plaguing your thoughts. Well, let's admit it, it's been more than just a face. 

Memories of his hands running over your naked flesh, his hot mouth on yours to silence your moans, soft ears and a bushy tail that drew goosebumps across your skin. You craved him. Dashing hazel eyes that looked at you like you were the finest meal he has ever seen, wanting to feast on you.

Those same eyes that stared at you now through the mirror in your bedroom as you tried on your dinner gown. Not hiding any shame as they sweep over every single blessed inch of your jaw dropping body. 

You stare back, eyes drawing over his wide shoulders, his broad chest, the thick arms that are pulled behind his back. 

The tension in the air between you both is almost electric, one spark could send the entire room ablaze. 

Your fingers twitch at your side, wanting to turn around and reach towards him. Pull him to you just so you can feel him under your fingertips again. Something so forbidden between the both of you yet so sweet and delicious, addictive. You had no intentions of sleeping with your family's cat butler, but the way he falls apart under your touch, breath hitching as he whimpers your name. How could you control yourself?

"How do I look?" You ask, not turning but meeting his eyes in the mirror. They flick up, pouring his heart out in them. The corners of his mouth lift, barely but just enough for you to notice.

"Breath taking as always, my lady." Heart racing in your chest, but you know he can hear it, his sensitive ears flicking to the beat like a drum. Smoothing your hands over your dress, you give yourself one final onceover, making sure every hair is put in place, your dress falling where it's supposed to and hugging what it needs to. 

Satisfied, you turn, letting your eyes run up Zayne's tall figure. He stands there unmoving as always, forced to remain stoic, to not give in. Maybe that's what drew you to him, wanting to break down his reserve and find the man deep within, or maybe it was that he is undeniably attractive. Sharp jaw matching his sharp eyes, large, sure hands, legs that go on for days. Something so magnetic drawing you to him.

"I got you something, you know." A smile playing on your painted lips, because who could honestly forget their favorite cat butler in a month without bringing him a gift in return. He cocks an eyebrow towards you.

"Oh?" Lips pulling up in that barely there smile again. "No need to come baring gifts, my lady. Just being graced by your presence once more is a gift in itself." The flush that coated your cheeks were more than enough, feelings showing without speaking words. You smile up at him, grabbing the small box from the bed and placing it in his hands. 

"It's an 'I missed you' present," Words so quiet, almost as if you were scared of getting caught. Zayne looks at you for a moment, pausing as he feels the weight in his hands, eyes searching yours. 

Slowly, Zayne pulls the lid off and sets it on your bed. You watch as his hazel eyes dilate, nostrils flaring at the scent of catnip. Taking the box from his hands, you hold the cat wand, the bell jingling softly as you move. His eyes darkening, zeroing in on it as you toss the box onto your bed. 

Though he is every bit man, he was still part feline, crumbling and growing hungry over the intoxicating scent of the drug. He doesn't indulge often in treats or toys, but something cracked in his composure every time catnip swirled in his senses. 

His ears twitch as you shake the wand, trying so hard to keep his eyes locked on yours but ultimately failing as you draw the wand up. A ragged breath releases from his lungs almost as if he was holding it. You move, reaching your arm higher towards his head and shake it again. His body shifts, zoned in on the movement and the scent of the toy. Playing like this had always been so pleasuring to you, watching as he fights off his instincts and tries to remain loyal to his orders. 

You move again, walking back, drawing him to you as you shake the toy in front of your own face. His eyes fighting to stay locked on yours but ultimately failing as he snaps them back. His large, glove clad hand reaches out, just barely missing the wand as you pull it away, higher in the air out of his reach. He straightens at once, looming over you with his massive height, brows pinched together tight in disbelief. You got him right where you wanted him, clouded his mind and drew him to you. Tossing the now useless toy to the side you straighten your back, sizing him up. 

Zayne walks towards you, eyes dark and jaw set. Footsteps so sure and precise. Times like these he looked almost intimidating, not being able to help it as you took a few steps back. 

Suddenly you trip, unstrapped heel slipping off of your stocking covered foot. You look down, the shoe laying helpless between the both of you. Sighing you walk to the wide armchair lining the wall, a few steps behind you. Crossing your legs and propping your head in your palm. Zayne walks to you, eyes softening and ears drooping to a more relaxed position.

"Do you know what this cat likes most?" He sighs out, voice hushed. 

"Catnip? Or a cat wand?" Though you knew where he was going, you wanted to play this game, this push and pull you both ended up in. His chuckle is breathy, ears twitching in delight as he looks away for just a moment. 

"Neither," Leaning forward hands caging you in, a smile playing on his lips. "He likes his owner more than anything else." Thick bushy tail swaying lazily behind him, face so close to yours you can feel the heat of his breath as it washes over your face. 

"You made my shoe come off," Eyes drawing down at the discarded shoe, ignoring his advances. 

Obeying, he kneels down, picking up your far too expensive heel, inspecting it as he holds it in his hands. You take the opportunity to reach forward, attempting to grasp his velvet like ears. But he is too fast, twitching them just out of reach, his eyes playful as he catches you in the act.

"Looks like someone hasn't forgotten about touching his ears," The low rumble of his words make your stomach flip. The slow swishes of his tail taunting you from behind him. "A cat won't fulfill all your requests." 

"Really?" You lean forward again, pinching the base of his ear softly before rubbing soothing circles in it. A sharp hiss through his teeth at the contact, making you drop your hand back down to your side. His comes up, caressing the spot, eyes soft and sad.

"It hurts..." Zayne's ears had always been sensitive, the slightest touch always drawing a quiet gasp from him. 

You look down, expectantly as you eye your shoeless foot.

"Help me put on this shoe," Lifting your leg, toes pointed towards his hand as you wait.

"All right." His large hand coming to clasp around the back of your ankle, lifting your foot up as he bends slightly. Lips placing a firm kiss through your stockings, goose bumps rising, drawing out a dull pulse between your legs. "At your service, my lady."

His fingers delicately dance up your arched sole, towards your heel before curling back around your ankle once more, catching your breath in your throat. Cheeks on fire as you watch him with such an intensity, sliding the toe of the shoe over yours, fixing the strap securely on your ankle with a smile playing on his lips. His long fingers dancing along your clothed skin. He looks up at you, a pink blush dusting over his cheeks as he lets out a chuckle. 

"Your hands..." Zayne looks down at them, letting your foot fall back to the floor. Brows drawing back together in the smallest movement. "They still smell like catnip." 

"They do?" You ask in a teasing tone, reaching your index finger forward. Running it along his bottom lip, his hand grasps yours, mouth falling open as he gasps out. Zayne pulls your hand closer, finger resting just between his lips. 

Then you feel his teeth, a small nip to your skin. Not enough to cause blood but just enough for you to let out a shocked gasp, stomach flipping in delight. You pull your hand back a few inches, making him look up at you. Hazel eyes consumed in nothing but lust from the aphrodisiac and the scent of you. Pink blush dusting over his nose. 

"Ow! You know, a good cat butler doesn't bite its owner," You scold with a scoff, eyes flicking to the side for just a moment. But then a rough, wet tongue laps at your skin. The hot stripe of saliva tingles on your skin as you stare at him, trying your hardest to not squeeze your slick thighs together, to not give in and let him know just how bad you need him inside of you.

"This is how I express my affection," Zayne says matter-of-factly, his barely there smile making a return as his tail shows his emotions behind him. 

You pull your hand from his grasp, lunging forward as you take his face in your hands. His ears quickly airplane in shock at your movements.

"Then let me express my affection," You command, shaking his head lightly to the side. "You like that?" 

A breathy moan slips from his lips as you caress his cheeks, his eyes slowly blinking in affection at you. The undeniable smile tugging at your lips as you watch him indulge, letting you warm his skin with yours finally. A deep rumbling purr emanating from his chest as he basks in your touch.

"Besides affection," Pausing, your hand still, cupping his cheek with one as the other ghosts down towards his chin. "I'm curious, do cats feel possessive towards their owners?" Voice dropping an octave, slow and sultry as you lean in and lift his chin, watching his eyes widen. 

Your cat butler smiles, wrapping his fingers around the wrist that cupped his face, clothed thumb brushing over your silky flesh. 

"Of course," Voice so sweet, a million emotions dancing behind it as he speaks. "Just like this..." He nuzzles into your awaiting hand before continuing, a heavy breath drawing in his lungs. "What this gesture means is - this is mine." Eyes meeting yours at the word 'mine'; possessive and claiming. His thick tail swishing behind faster. Zayne places a kiss to your open palm before he nuzzles back into it, the purr becoming so strong it vibrates in your hand. 

"Mmm," You hum, a smirk on your lips as you shake your head. "Kitty, I think you're confused, you're all mine." Words forming a purr as you lean in, faces so close you could smell his scent. Another slow, loving blink of his eyes, his tail coming around to brush up your calf.

"You have no idea how much I've missed this," The raw emotion in his eyes almost makes you pull back, his smile falling. 

You wished you could tell him you loved him, throw all the back and forth aside, throw aside how forbidden it would be to expose your relationship with your family's butler. But him melting into your touch, telling you how he missed your skin on his with those fucking bone melting eyes. Just pour your heart to him, leave everything behind for him.

But that wasn't possible. So, you stone your emotions, forcing a smirk on your lips.

"Why don't you show me?" Thumb brushing just under his eyes as you push him, trying to get him to indulge, take as much as he wants from you.

Zayne's fingers curl around your ankle, pulling your foot forward towards him as he lets out a hot pant of breath. As he grinds against you, his hard erection presses onto your shin. You feel him shutter from the contact, his eyes rolling closed as he presses his face more into your palm, open lips on your skin, feeling every exhale.

Slipping your foot out of your unbuckled shoe, you pull back, hand falling from his face as your back presses against the chair. His eyes flutter open, the slightest pout at the loss of contact from both your hand and shin. But he remains still, refusing to reach out and pull you back to him, diving in for friction. Through his black slacks, you can make out the tent growing at his groin. 

"Already so worked up..." You tsk, shaking your head from side to side, clicking your tongue. "What will we do about that, hm?" Cocking your head to the side, you cross your legs, shoeless foot over the other, tapping it up and down teasing him.

"Please... my lady," He reaches up, fingers drifting up, dusting over your heel, down your arch and latching around your clothed toes. His empty hand clenches at his side, refusing to touch himself as he begs you for any sort of relief. 

With a sigh you uncross your legs, bringing your foot to his chest with his fingers still attached. The shaky, uneven breath could be felt through his suit as you run your foot down his chest and stomach towards the place he needed you the most. Ears sloping as they relax under the building pleasure inside of him.

Finally, you press your foot to his groin, feeling his lengthy erection under your hot skin. He sighs, shifting his hips just slightly enough to get the smallest friction. The smile that spread on your lips couldn't be helped, the mingling emotions of his pleasure and the excited anticipation bubbling inside of you. The month had been too long, the nights too expansive, and Zayne too far away. But here he is, already falling apart, breaking down his walls for you just over a touch. Drool worthy cock so hard, so ready for you. You shift your foot, dragging it down to his base, watching the shudder run under his shoulders. The length mapping itself out under your toes, but far too many layers separated it for your liking. 

"Strip," You command, voice nothing higher than a breath. In an instant, he shrugs his coat off, fingers fiddling with the buttons of his shirt before that too has been discarded. He rises to his knees, thumbing the button of his slacks open, unzipping, then pulling them down along with his boxers. But you stop him there, raising your heeled foot up, right in front of his erect cock. "Fuck it," Eyes locked on his, your chest rising and falling as you wait for him to obey. 

The slick between your thighs growing as you drink him in, deep pink tip inches away from your foot, in need of release. Veins wrapping around his massive length, your mind already drifting to how they feel, every single inch of him a delicious pleasure that you needed inside of you.

Zayne shifts to the side, hands holding your heel still as he slips the tip of his cock between your clothed foot and your shoe. The groan that graces your ears has you gripping your hands at your side is enough to get your mind reeling, trying to control your urges of pushing him down and fucking yourself on him, losing all sense of control and just give in. 

"Feels so good," He groans out through is teeth as he sinks himself to the hilt, pausing there as he catches his breath. His member hot against your arched sole, blood pumping through his veins. 

After a moment, his hips shift, pulling back before thrusting forward, fucking your foot. The friction of his cock through your stockings sent tingles up your spine, shifting in your seat as the uncomfortable thrumming of arousal pooled between your thighs. Watching himself fuck his cock in your shoe, the way his mouth hung open as his chest rose and fell with every heavy breath. You never wanted it to end, not being able to get enough after being deprived for so long. 

Zayne's fingers tighten as you flex your toes, tightening your arch, making the small opening even smaller. He groans out, brows pinching as his pace picks up, cock head disappearing and reappearing as he continues. After you're done, you'd have to toss your stockings away, the wetness growing on them from his leaking cock head soiling them, unable to wear them. But the thought of walking into the dining hall, stockings stained with his precum, a claim of him, made your stomach flip. You flex your toes again, drawing a hungry moan from him as you watch the beads of sweat form at his brows. Eyes trailing down his bare chest, down his flexing stomach, and landing on his freshly shaved groin. You wanted to reach out, run your nails down his skin and watch his muscles seize as he fights back his orgasm.

"Fuck," He swears under his breath, hips moving faster, bumping into the side of your foot, stockings already soaked as his cock easily slides between. You could see how painfully erect he was, feel it. Tip flushed with the rush of blood, aching to release, cock twitching after every few thrusts. 

"You like fucking my feet?" Cooing, his eyes snap to yours, a smile playing on your lips. Your fingers brushing the hair from his damp forehead.

"Love it," Your butler breathes out, hips never stilling, but growing sloppy, the rhythm stalling every once in a while. "Love it, my lady." He repeats with a grunt, hips jerking with a harsh thrust. 

You could tell how close he was, the jerky movements, the rising and falling of his chest in jagged breaths, his hazel eyes cloudy and glossy in a haze. If you didn't stop him, he'd cum all over your foot, leaving nothing left for you. Just that thought alone was more than enough for you to stop him, gripping his strong, muscular arm to still his movements. His ears shifted to the side, confusion and frustration, eyes slowly dragging to your reddened face. 

"Go lay on the bed," Voice sounding distant, you command him. With a swish of his tail he obliges, slowly pulling his aching cock from your shoe and pushing himself up to stand. Shucking the rest of his clothes off, he walks towards your bed - your eyes never leaving his naked frame, raking in every inch. From his tight, toned ass, his fluffy tail that swayed with every footstep, to his muscular back and his wide shoulders. Every single aspect of this man made your core ache for him, like he was made just to pleasure you. 

Not wasting time, you rise to your feet, discarding your lone shoe and pad over to him. Zayne sat on the edge of your massive bed, large thigs spread, red, angry cock resting against his stomach as he allowed himself to be used. You slot yourself between his thighs, hands resting on his shoulders as you feel the heat of his body radiate around you. His hands cup the back of your knees, you can feel how clammy they were through the thin, skintight fabric. Hands pushing you to him, lifting your legs to climb onto his bare lap, hovering just over his wet cock. His face leaning in, lips hovering over yours, teasing.

"Let me please you, mistress," Breath washing over you, filling your lungs as you inhale him. Before you know it, his hands reach up, fingers curling around your tights. The rip of them sounded so overwhelmingly loud in your silent room, almost echoing off the walls. The moan that slipped from your lips wasn't intentional, eyes rolling back as your muscles almost giving out from just the action alone. You could hear his chuckle through the cloud of arousal in your mind, almost taunting at how quickly you fall while he's in control.

That wakes you up, snapping out of the fog. You push him back onto the mattress, a woosh of breath leaving his lungs as he falls, eyes widening and ears standing to attention. Not wasting any time, you reach between your bodies and push your panties to the side, guiding his cock inside of your soaked cunt. He fills you slowly, pushing through your walls, knocking your head back as you try to control yourself from being too loud. Your family was here after all, floating around the house, getting last minute preparations finished for your welcome home party. But somehow that only turned you on even more, fucking your cat butler while you should be getting dressed, ruining your clothes just so he could cum inside of you again.

Zayne's hands grip your hips, desperate for more. Once you take him completely, he hisses through his teeth, thick thighs tensing beneath your body, willing himself not to release yet. You wouldn't last long either, one entire month without his cock inside of you made your stamina nonexistent, just him alone inside of you now, you could feel the familiar tight coil binding on itself in your core. As you both catch your breath, your small hand runs up his chest, so smooth under your touch, freshly shaved how you told him you liked it. You fought back a smile, not giving into your emotions, not yet. Instead, you keep going higher, hand resting at the base of his throat, feeling the groan he lets out as you tighten your fingers slightly, feeling the jump of his cock at the movement. A rumbling purr in his chest, vibrations so strong you can feel them jitter up your arm.

He couldn't hold back any longer, tightening his hands around your hips, bucking his hard cock deep inside of you. Throwing your head back you cry out, eyes wide as you can feel him brush against that mind numbing spot inside of you, his head kissing it with every movement. He thrusts again, a low growl as he grinds his teeth together, your body jumping with his hips. He is relentless, pounding himself in your pussy at a desperate attempt to chase both of your highs, them building together in an almost perfect sync. Drawing the most beautiful noises from your lips, sending his predator instincts into a frenzy, feeding on them as he fights for more. 

"Oh!" You cry, falling to his chest, burying your face into his damp neck, his cock hitting impossibly deeper into your quivering cunt. You could taste it, your orgasm looming over you as you try to meet his now sloppy thrusts.

"'M close-" He hisses out, hands repositioning onto your ass, fingers sinking into the fatty flesh. He pushes you down, meeting his thrusts as the lewd wet slapping of your bodies bounce around the room. Anyone standing in the hall would be able to hear, but you couldn't give less of a care right now, the way he fucks himself inside of you dumbing your brain and making you drool. His tail brushing against your foot as it swipes up your leg, curling around you in need to touch you. Your hand grips his chest, nails sinking in as your mouth falls open into an O, orgasm on the tip of your tongue.

"Zayne-" You try to choke out, a whimper cutting your words of as your eyes roll back. "Coming!" Is all you manage before the hot heat runs over your body, curling your toes and burying your face into his neck as you cry out. The gush of wetness between the both of you only intensifying the noises your bodies made as his last few thrusts fuck himself inside of you. Then you feel the first hot rope, a deep groan ripping from his throat as his cock leaks into you. You feel how it pulsates, the throbbing only making the last lick of your orgasm even more intense, legs shaking just from his feeling alone. Zayne's strong arms wrap around you, holding you both still as he empties completely inside of you. 

The both of you lay like that, breath heavy as you can feel his load seeping out of your abused hole, cock softening inside. His arms stay locked around you, not wanting to let you go just yet, or maybe ever again now that he finally has you back. But right now, you don't mind, listening to his rapid beating heart, feeling his damp skin on yours, the scent of him surrounding you. 

"I love you," Your ears almost don't catch those three little words. Said so lightly it could've been a blowing breeze through the room. But his unmistakable voice is what blessed your ears. Body growing hot, his confession slipping out. You don't move, shock settling in your bones. "I know it's inappropriate, I understand if you want me to leave, my lady. But I couldn't-" You cut him off, pushing yourself from his chest, both of your arms holding you up, caging him in. 

The smile on your lips seemed to relax him, eyes softening, ears relaxing - even his tail lightly thumped against the bed. 

"I love you," You whisper, watching the flush bloom on his face, lips falling open in a gasp. You were finally able to admit it, after months of sneaking around and shoving your emotions deep down your throat, they felt so easy as they flowed from your mouth. 

His sudden movement shocked you, a shriek squealing from your lips as he lifts you and flips you onto your back. He hovers over you with a lazy smile, one only ever reserved for these secret moments with you. Without stopping himself, he leans in and kisses you, lips molding together like puzzle pieces, your heart pounding in your chest but your skin growing warm. 

Cupping his face, you give in. Allowing yourself to bask in his love while he was here with you. Never wanting it to end.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

House Calls.

Summary: Aaliyah has an elusive charm that can be alluring to some and frustrating to others. Professor Terry is compelled to have her. On one fateful evening at his college buddies bachelor party, he runs into Aaliyah. An interaction he hadn’t imagined would ever happen.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ CONTENT, based off of Players Club, Nasty Talk, Professor!Student. ANGST.

Part three

1999:

Walking into a hair salon was an interesting experience. Pulling into an overly stuffed parking lot in futile anticipation of being in and out “in a decent time.” opening the salon door and walking into a room overflowing with peering eyes full of a mixture of both curiosity and judgment that covers you from your head to the bottom of your favorite shoes. Slinking down into chairs that go from stuffed and comfortable to hard as steel while waiting for the appointment that was due more than an hour ago. Out bursts of group laughter, “girllll, no she didn’t!” and “say what now?!” coupled with the familiar smell of hair sheen spray and neutralizing shampoo that seeps through the fog of sporadic steam that fills the air from the super-wattage, neck-burning hair dyers, steamers and marcel ‘top of your ear frying’ irons, reminds you that this is going to be long day.

Aaliyah Noelle Davenport sat in an unoccupied salon chair within a popular salon in Baton Rouge called Gina’s. Gina’s had been around for over ten years. The pages of her coloring book she was currently scribbling in with old crayons kept her busy so she wouldn’t go snooping around like last time. She burned her fingers touching a curling iron heater.

“He’s back home…coming to pick Aaliyah up in a few…”

Aaliyah’s mother, Rochelle, was currently doing a roller set on a client. She worked the rollers around thick strands of hair with her long, curved, golden nails. Rochelle was a hard working woman. She did hair and worked night shifts at a local motel to pay the bills. Anything to make up for Aaliyah’s father being in prison for six years.

She was the epitome of 90s fine: Rochelle embodied a beauty that was both timeless and undefinable, leaving a permanent imprint on anyone that crossed her path. Her unique blend of elegance, confidence, and charisma inspired and resonated with Aaliyah. That kind of fine isn’t just about looks — it’s about attitude, style, and an effortless grace.

“Make the money, don’t let it make you. Money can't make you anything…only your actions can make you something. Money can buy you things that make life easier but one thing it can’t buy is happiness…”

“Girl, stop acting like you ain’t happy he back home...”

One of her mother’s friends and fellow stylist, Donna, was flipping through one of many hair catalogs the shop owned.

“The less he know the better,” Rochelle added the final touches before she walked her client over to the hooded dryers, “It was one time, that’s it…”

“Rochelle, if you don’t calm your fucking nerves. He won’t ever find the fuck out if you don’t hush!”

“Okay, okay…shit–that’s him coming up right now. Aaliyah?”

“Mhm?” Aaliyah mumbled from her seat while coloring in a teddy bear.

“Your father is here…come on and get ya stuff. He’s gonna take you back to the house while I finish up. C’mon, little girl!”

Aaliyah frowned and pouted her lip while packing away her crayons and coloring book.

“Fix that face. You got homework to do…”

She climbed down from her seat and slipped her Barbie book bag over her shoulders. A candy painted Donk with shiny rims slowed to a stop outside of the salon and Aaliyah’s eyes lit up when she recognized her father’s low–cut ceasar with the deep waves. He shut his door and strolled over to the entrance of the salon with swagger.

Roland Davenport AKA Pressure. He was a smooth cat from Baton Rouge with a nefarious past and a deep love for his daughter. Aaliyah was his entire world.

“Is that my little girl! What’s up, Princess!”

He scooped up his six year old and spun her around. Aaliyah giggled joyfully while clinging onto her father’s crisp white tee. His skin was the deepest brown and blemish free. He flashed his pearly whites at her before giving her a kiss to the forehead. Roland put Aaliyah down and then he made his way over to Rochelle.

Aaliyah watched her parents hug each other affectionately. Their lips connected with a gluttonous passion. Roland’s hands roamed down to cuff Rochelle’s dump trunk and she squeezed his bulging biceps in return.

“Stop! Stop…I’m with a client…”

“How long ya gonna be, baby? I was thinking ‘bout taking my favorite girls out to eat.”

“Oh, yeah?” Rochelle grinned flirtatiously, “Where to?”

“It’s a surprise…”

Aaliyah’s parents talked for a few more minutes before her dad led her out of the salon hand in hand. She skipped along the way. Roland opened the back door and took her back pack so that she could buckle in.

“Daddy, I wanna sit up front.” Aaliyah protested with her sweet little voice, “Please?”

“Liyah. You can’t sit up here today. Maybe next time, okay?”

Aaliyah hung her head before fastening her seatbelt. Roland made his way to the drivers side and climbed in.

“How was school today?” Roland questioned, staring back at his daughter through the rear view mirror.

“Good.” Aaliyah flashed a grin with no two front teeth.

“That’s not what ya momma told me…”

Her smile disintegrated.

Aaliyah fiddled with her pleated, khaki uniform skirt. She avoided her father’s gaze, afraid he’d appear angry and she would be in big trouble.

“Look at me, Liyah…”

She did as she was told, staring up at her father.

“I’m not mad. You had every right to defend yourself. ‘Dem lil’ boys won’t mess with you again after what ya did…”

Aaliyah had been dealing with constant bullying from two little boys in her first grade class. They would pull her long plats, kick the back of her chair, call her names, and other cruel things that always resulted in her crying in the bathroom.

“Now if these lil’ niggas wanna have kids of their own someday, they better leave my daughter alone or I’m putting foot in ass…”

Roland made a silly face at Aaliyah and she couldn’t help but to smile and laugh.

“How ‘bout we make a pit stop to grab a snowball?”

“YAY!!!” Aaliyah cheered, her little arms up in the air like she’d just had a victory lap.

Roland cranked the radio, Sho Nuff by 8ball & MJG blasting through the speakers. Aaliyah could feel the seat beneath her vibrate. She watched her father rap the lyrics, a sudden gush of humid air flooding the car when he let the windows down. Roland extended his arm from the window to greet people he knew, the Chevrolet Impala Donk slow gliding through the hood.

They pulled up to a snowball stand that was situated next to a bowling alley and roller-skate rink. Rolland turned his music down before looking back at Aaliyah over the headrest of his seat.

“Which flavor?”

“Georgia Peach!”

“Aight, munchkin. I’ll be back…”

Roland climbed out of the car, shutting the door behind him. Aaliyah peered out of the open window, her eyes following her father’s retreating frame. What she hadn’t noticed, however, was the way an all black Escalade crept up, all four doors opening in unison.

Everything went in slow motion.

Repeated muzzle flashes sparked the air like it was the Fourth of July.

RAT–rat-rat-rat-rat!!!

Her scream pierced the air.

——

Those memories flooded Aaliyah’s mind that Wednesday morning. She’d woken up in good spirits, ready for her Ethics and Psychology class and a lunch date with a special someone. After showering, Aaliyah slipped on a pair of light grey leggings that molded into her hips, thighs, and booty. She paired it with a fitted, white T-shirt and low top Vans. Glasses on, messy hair pinned back with a claw clip, she threw on a denim jacket and collected her school bag near the front door.

Before she could even leave, a hard, booming knock on the storm door of her Shotgun House caused her forehead to wrinkle with surprise. She paused for a second before walking up to the door. Aaliyah brought one dark brown eye to the peephole.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Aaliyah flinched.

“Aaliyah! Open the door! I know you’re here!”

It was her junkie mother.

She didn’t look like herself.

Acne, dull skin, and self-inflicted wounds from picking at her face. Needle marks and collapsed veins from shooting up.

Rochelle was unrecognizable.

One look at her, and all the trauma from her youth flooded her mind. After her father was shot down, Rochelle went into a deep state of depression. She lost her job at the salon, and the pay checks from her motel job didn’t keep the bills paid. Rochelle had no choice but to seek help from a man. Any man that was willing. She sent Aaliyah away at the age of ten for a few years to live with her estranged grandmother, Ruby. Ruby was a strict, Christian woman with no tolerance for misbehavior or rebellion. She lived in a different Parrish in rural Louisiana, closer to Shelby Springs.

Aaliyah was made to do yard and farm work. She had Bible studies on weekends and couldn’t hang with many children because their parents weren’t ‘Godly Folk’. The only thing Aaliyah really enjoyed was horseback riding whenever her grandmother would visit a church friend. When Aaliyah was nearing fourteen, she started sneaking out to see an older boy. Word got around and Ruby lashed out on Aaliyah.

“I didn’t have sex with him! We were just kissing!”

Aaliyah wailed, hands raised to brace herself from her grandmother’s blows.

“You’re just like your mother! Can’t keep your legs closed! Don’t lie to me, Aaliyah! I know you slept with that boy!” Ruby shouted.

She couldn’t stay there any longer. Aaliyah called her mother that same night, begging her to come get her. Rochelle drove an hour out and when Ruby opened her door, Rochelle shoved past her mother.

“You put your hands on my child?! You evil bitch!”

Aaliyah watched from the top of the stairs with her packed bags. Rochelle and Ruby were in the middle of a screaming match.

“You asked for my help, remember?! She lives under my roof, she abides by my rules!” Ruby argued.

“But did I ask you to beat on my child?! Just the same ol’ shit with you! I can’t even rely on you to be there for my daughter—”

“OH! Now look who’s talking. You couldn’t even get your shit together after Roland died to be a mother. Which man is it now paying the bills, Rochelle?! Look at all this,” Ruby pointed to Rochelle’s jewelry and designer, “Don’t look like you struggling to me.”

Rochelle remained silent, scornful eyes glaring at Ruby.

“Aaliyah! Let’s go…”

She hadn’t seen her mother in almost four years. Rochelle looked…fancy.

“Sully is in the car…He drove me here…I missed you, Liyah…”

Ruby watched with folded arms. She locked eyes with Aaliyah, a look of guilt flashing across her face for just a second. They left without a backwards glance.

Aaliyah was very careful around Sully. He was a drug dealer, bringing home money and gifts to spoil Aaliyah. She became used to the revolving door of other criminals entering her home. She was just happy to with her mother again. Aaliyah focused on her studies and poured herself into cheerleading and hip hop majorette.

Eventually, things started to go downhill. Rochelle was introduced to harder drugs, Sully owed people money and he had gambling debts. Things in their home started to disappear, bills were piling up, and Sully turned violent. It took for Ruby and Aaliyah to fight back for Sully to finally leave. It opened the same wound of her father’s death, Rochelle unable to stay strong. Rochelle’s addiction became worse, so bad to the point that she would steal from her own daughter.

Aaliyah couldn’t handle it. As soon as she graduated high school, she got her own place and left her mother behind. It broke her heart, but in order for her to evolve, she needed to break free. Aaliyah hated working at Hooters, and when she turned twenty–six, she started stripping at Crazy Horse.

“Make the money, don’t let it make you…”

Aaliyah opened the front door, but the storm door remained locked. Aaliyah stared down at her mother. Rochelle looked desperate and more frail than the last time she showed up. She’d relapsed again.

“Hey, baby…”

Rochelle pressed her hands against the door.

“Can you help me? I need some cash—”

“I gave you five hundred dollars when I last saw you, momma. I see you back on that shit again…”

Rochelle hung her head in shame.

“I’m trying, Aaliyah. You don’t understand how hard it is.”

“You’ve tried for over twenty years now. I’m tired of helping you and all you do is use me. Weren’t you staying with Mama Ruby?”

She definitely wasn’t staying with Aaliyah.

“I can’t stay wit’ you?”

“Hell no.” Aaliyah quipped.

“I’m your fucking mother!”

“Did you forget what happened the last time you lived with me?! You stole shit from my house! I don’t trust you!”

Aaliyah didn’t need this. She had to go to school.

“Please…please, Li–Li. I’m hungry…I’m broke…pleaseeee…”

Aaliyah stared her mother down with a venomous glance. There will always be a soft spot for Rochelle, but the repeated hurt was exhausting. Seeing her mother like this broke her heart. She just couldn’t stop using.

“Okay…”

Aaliyah opened her storm door. Rochelle slipped inside quickly. Aaliyah kept a watchful eye on her mother while she admired Aaliyah’s cozy home.

“C’mon…”

They entered Aaliyah’s kitchen. Rochelle climbed onto a bar stool, peering around with a nervous look. Aaliyah opened her fridge, bringing out leftover catfish and grits she’d prepared last night for dinner.

“That piece right there…yeah…”

Aaliyah rolled her eyes.

She gave her mother the thickest piece of catfish and a good portion of cheesy grits. While the food heated, Aaliyah reclined her plush bottom against the counter. She stared her mother down, unable to shake the pain that fought to bubble to the surface.

“How’s school?” Rochelle questioned, unable to avoid picking at her skin.

Aaliyah tampered down her resentment and cleared her throat to speak.

“Good. I’ll be graduating in June.”

“That’s good, baby. Real good…June…How many tickets you gettin’?”

“Uhm,” Aaliyah checked on the catfish, “Not really sure yet.”

“Still dancing?”

Aaliyah rubbed her arms.

“No.”

The smell of the crispy fish wafted her mother’s nose. Aaliyah opened the oven to retrieve it. The grits on the stove top were nice and smooth now. After plating the food, Aaliyah wrapped it with aluminum foil and slid it across the kitchen island to her mother. She opened her pantry to grab a plastic fork and knife, securing it with some paper towels before holding it out towards her mother.

“I can’t sit here and eat?”

“You know you can’t…”

“Aaliyah—”

“Look, I have class. I’m gon’ miss it if you don’t take this shit and leave—”

“LOOK,” Rochelle stood, “I’m sorry you hate me so much. I’m sorry about all that shit, but I’m still your mother, Li–Li.”

“Oh? Last time I remember you being a mother was when I was six years old. Anything after that don’t count.” Aaliyah fired back.

Rochelle parted her cracked lips to speak, but her words stilled in her throat. Her tears flowed down her face and she wiped them away with the back of her dingy sleeve. Aaliyah stood before her with a rigid expression.

“Okay, I’ll leave…”

Rochelle grabbed her plate of food and Aaliyah stepped out of the way for her to walk in front of her. Tears prickled her eyes but she hastily pulled herself together. Aaliyah followed her mother towards the front door. She opened it, unable to reach her mother’s gaze.

“I love you, Li–Li…”

A solemn tear cascaded down Aaliyah’s face.

“…think you could look out for me?”

Aaliyah released a sigh before reaching into her bag. She plucked out whatever cash she had– one hundred and fifty dollars– handing it over to her mother.

Rochelle accepted it shamefully.

“Thank you, Li–Li. Take care of yourself…”

——

Professor Richmond carried his brown leather briefcase with him into the lecture hall. There were already students present the more he approached his desk in his brown dress shoes. His oceanic eyes swept the rows of students, his gaze zeroed into a vacant desk. Bringing his Apple Watch up, he was right on schedule. She would be arriving late today it seems.

Terry couldn’t go the remainder of his weekend into the early weekday without Aaliyah crossing his mind. She invaded and consumed him without her physical presence. He was two grand broker and overjoyed. He’d spend more on her in a millisecond. That shapely body is a walking sin. He found himself daydreaming of how it would feel to press his muscles into the softness of her curves. How would the curl of his biceps feel around her thighs? The ridges of his abdomen beneath her hands as she explored?

“I hope you all read up on Darwin and The Moral Sense. We’re jumping straight into discussion…”

Terry removed his navy blue suit jacket, then he rolled up the sleeves to his white, button down shirt that he wore tucked into matching navy blue slacks. He used a red Expo marker to write: Chapter Three of The Descent of Man. After capping the marker, he turned his attention to the class. With his pointer finger, he pushed his glasses back from the bridge of his nose.

“The keystone significance of morality in human distinctness is clearly asserted by Darwin in the first sentence…and the quote says….”

Terry snapped his fingers before pointing at a student within the second row with their hand raised. A white male with wooly, dark brown hair and a hooked nose.

“I fully subscribe to the judgment of those writers who maintain that of all the differences between man and the lower animals—”

“The moral sense of conscience is by far the most important, correct, James. But why is that?”

He cast his penetrating eyes across his students before flicking his gaze at the door. Another student bravely raised their hand and Terry motioned for them to speak. He continued to lecture shortly after that.

“We know from his notebooks that Darwin was reading the contemporary philosophical literature about moral behavior in 1837…”

As he continued, pacing in front of his desk, hands in the pockets of his slacks, the absence of Aaliyah weighed heavy on him. Minutes ticked away and soon enough, class was dismissed. Terry spoke with a student after class about the grade he’d given them for the midterm paper before packing away his things and leaving.

He made it back to his makeshift office space, shut the door and shuffled inside, careful not to knock his briefcase into stacks of decades old textbooks and files. With his thumb and pointer finger, he flicked on his table lamp, a yellow glow igniting the space. The swivel chair situated at his rectangular, wooden desk creaked slight as he settled down. Terry cracked his wrists, a habit of his when he felt too wound up.

iPhone in hand, he found Aaliyah’s contact.

“Here,” Terry handed Aaliyah his phone, “Put your number in.”

Aaliyah stared up at Terry through her curled lashes with a smile that enticed him into a further aroused state. She held out her small hand and made a come hither motion. Terry felt his phone slip from his fingertips and watched her with a sharp gaze and a slight smirk. She typed away, and he caught her eye before she saved it.

Terry texted her phone later that evening and Aaliyah replied with a kiss emoji.

Terry: Goodnight, Beautiful ❤️

Aaliyah: Nite Professor 😘

He texted her on Sunday, not saying much, just a simple greeting. He didn’t want to come off too strong, although he was fiendish for her attention.

Terry: Hi, Aaliyah. Hope you slept well ❤️ Any plans for today?

Aaliyah: Hi 😏 slept well thanks for asking. how was your sleep? & I’m currently out to brunch with friends.

Terry: You’re welcome. had a great rest. Brunch is fun. I’m sure you look great 😌

Aaliyah: I do 😉

Terry: SO BEAUTIFUL 😍

Aaliyah: Thank you ❤️ can’t wait to see you on Wednesday.

Terry: I’m looking forward to it ❤️

Terry sent Aaliyah a new text.

Terry: Hey, is everything okay?

It wasn’t like her to miss class. Terry unfastened the first few buttons of his shirt. He stood to stretch his sore legs from his workout earlier, easing his way over to the only window in his office. Terry looked out the window. The sky was tar-black and the large clouds seemed as if they were moving towards him. He heard a tapping on the window and then it became a pitter-patter. People ran for cover outside and umbrellas were opened as the clouds spat out their beads of water. Puddles began plinking as the rainfall became heavier. The roofs of the cars danced with spray and he could hear the murmuring of the rain through the window. It sounded like the buzzing of angry bees.

Buzz Buzz

Terry back tracked to his desk, reaching over and grabbing his phone.

Aaliyah: I’m sorry I missed class, Terry. Everything isn’t okay actually. I wasn’t feeling it. Can I call you?

Terry: Yes

He answered immediately.

Terry took a seat, “Hello?”

“Hi…”

Her voice sent chills down his spine.

Terry sensed her sadness.

“Want to talk about it?”

“…Can we still meet for lunch?”

“We can. It’s raining pretty bad out. Sure you’ll be okay driving?”

“I’ll be fine, I’m standing on my back porch right now…looks like it’s slowing down.”

“Okay. Uh…I was thinking Noir. It’s a nice jazz inspired restaurant and it’s a great vibe for cozy and intimate dining. Do you need me to pick you up?”

“No, that’s okay. I can meet you there. I know Noir.”

“Okay, drive safely, love.” Terry said.

“I will, you too. See you there.”

——

Noir didn’t have many patrons that afternoon, and Terry wasn’t complaining. He scooted himself into a booth, the dim light hanging above him so dull as if a shade had been cast upon it. His wet dress shoes squeaked slightly as he made himself comfortable. Terry ordered two filtered waters with lemon and hot water to soak the silverware. His legs swung back and forth beneath the booth table anxiously. Eyes that appeared turquoise glanced towards the entrance and he made out the silhouette of Aaliyah Davenport entering.

She must’ve gotten caught in the rain. She was dressed casually, a large Louis Vuitton tote bag over her right shoulder and a denim jacket flung over her left arm. She paused, eyes searching for Terry. He leaned further out of the booth and waved her down. Aaliyah fixed her gaze on him and a small smile graced her beautiful lips. Terry watched her saunter over, and the further she approached, the more her smile brightened.

Terry stood, fixing his pants since they had ridden up on his thighs and bulged around his crotch. Aaliyah slowed down to a stop before him, an awkward pause with nervous glances between them. Ultimately, Terry opened his arms and Aaliyah giggled before wrapping her arms around him. Terry caught a whiff of her hair; coconut and hibiscus. Mmm…he could feel the slight dampness of her curls through his dress shirt.

Her T-shirt beneath his fingertips was slightly wet from the rain droplets. Aaliyah broke away from him and gave him one last look before settling into the booth. Terry followed, situated across from her. He loved how natural and beautiful she looked. Her curls were slightly heat damaged at the ends, giving it personality. She wasn’t wearing her glasses today, Terry able to enjoy those pretty brown eyes again. Her hoop earrings swung as she swept hair from her eyes.

“I ordered us some water for now if that’s okay.” Terry mentioned.

“That’s ‘awrite with me, Professor.”

She has such a cute voice. Honeyed.

“I hope I didn’t miss anything crucial. I’m sorry.” Aaliyah apologized.

“Don’t be. We discussed chapter three…have you read it?”

“I have. No assignments?” Aaliyah replied.

“No—Aaliyah, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t care to talk about class. He wanted to know what was bothering her. She looked so saddened. It didn’t sit right with him.

“Uh…it’s a lot. I don’t wanna pour my shit out on you.”

“I’m willing to listen, if you’ll let me. No pressure…”

Aaliyah tilted her head and considered his words. Their water arrived and the waiter was ready to take their orders. Aaliyah hadn’t even looked over the menu.

“Give us another minute, please? Thanks…”

Aaliyah started flipping through the menu. The conical body of the saxophone in the background soothing.

Terry decided to order them an appetizer. Mini crab bites. He wasn’t too sure what to order for lunch.

“Do you like crab bites?” Terry asked.

“I do. That sounds good,” Aaliyah peered up at him with a timid smile, “I was thinking of getting a salmon ceasar salad.”

“Tasty,” Terry stroked his goatee, “I’ll probably do a shrimp Po’Boy.”

Their waiter circled back and Terry ordered everything. Alone again, they sipped their water and caught each other’s eye. Aaliyah pushed the wedge of lemon in her glass down further with her straw. She released a sigh before leaning against the table.

“My momma showed up today. Right when I was leaving for school.”

“Ya’ momma? I take it you’re not happy about that…”

Aaliyah’s eyes glistened. Terry wanted to reach out and stroke her soft cheek.

“My mom is a drug addict. Been an addict since I was sixteen.”

Terry allowed what she revealed to him to settle into his mind. He gave her a slow nod, and his eyes fixated on her deeper.

Aaliyah continued with a shaky voice, “After my father was killed, she became depressed and she blamed herself for the longest time. I was there when it happened…saw the whole thing,” Aaliyah rubbed her arms, “He hadn’t even been out of prison for a year and he was shot…”

Terry watched her straighten her back and sniffle, trying her best to calm herself down.

“My momma’s been in and out of rehab. I’ve help her, my grandmomma helped her…she stole from me, disappointed me every single time…” Aaliyah stared down at her hands, “And all she can think to do is show up on my doorstep with her hands out. That broke me.”

Terry twisted his full lips and his eyes fell to her hands. He watched the way her fingers fiddled. With an impulse so strong, he covered her hands with his much larger ones, stroking them with his thumbs. Aaliyah watched the way his hands worked to sooth her. Like he was massaging the stress out of her. Aaliyah exhaled, and then she locked eyes with Terry.

“I love her so much…”

“I know you do, I can see it…I can feel it.” Terry spoke softly.

He released her hands so she could thumb away a tear.

“I’m so sorry, Aaliyah. Sorry about your father. Sorry about your mom…”

“Thank you, Terry. I really appreciate it. I know this is supposed to be a nice lunch. I feel like I’m ruining it with my fuckin’ bullshit.”

“There’s nothing ruined, love. I’m happy you felt comfortable enough to open up to me about it. I just don’t like seeing you like this…your mom isn’t willing to get help?”

“That’s the thing,” Aaliyah took a sip of her water to help get rid of the lump in her throat, “She’s been in and out of rehab plenty of times. It’s this guy she keeps running back to. I don’t really remember his name…all I know is that he’s a dealer. She’s always had a thing for criminals.”

“Your grandmother, what’s up with that?—am I asking too many questions?”

“No, no,” Aaliyah shook her head, “My grandma is…her and my mom have always had a strained relationship. She’s attempted to help, but it never works out. There’s a lot of unresolved issues and my mom just can’t stick around long enough to deal wit’ it, ya know?”

“I get it. What was your father like?”

Aliyah frowned slightly, “He was so funny. Had so much swagger to ‘em. Loved cars. He got himself mixed up in some shit. He was doing a favor for a friend that turned out to be a robbery and it landed him in prison.”

She had this faraway look in her eyes, as if she were recalling the nostalgic feeling of being with her dad.

“…I saw him…die…and…” Aaliyah exhaled, “Took me a while to shake it…”

“Damn,” Terry hung his head, “Aaliyah, that’s heavy…”

Terry squeezed her hands and sought out her gaze. Aaliyah looked across at him and a single tear cascaded down her cheek. Terry released her hand and lifted from his seat, scooting in next to her. He snatched up a few napkins and dabbed her face gently.

“It’s okay…it’s okay, Aaliyah…so sorry…”

One hand rubbed her shoulder while she bawled up the used napkin in her hand. With one last sniffle, Aaliyah turned her brown eyes that reminded him of cognac through a glass and just then, she leaned in and those lips he’d desired to feel grazed his cheek with a feather–like touch before molding into his skin with a pressure so soothing his eyelash’s fluttered in satisfaction.

“Thanks for listening,” Aaliyah whispered in his ear.

Terry turned his head at an angle towards her. He gave her a searing, sideways glance.

“You’re welcome. Anytime…”

“Crab bites…”

Startled, Terry leaped up from his seat and returned to his side of the booth. Aaliyah thanked the waiter and they put in their orders. Terry and Aaliyah shared the appetizer. After chewing, Aaliyah licked her lips before speaking.

“Tell me a little more about Terry Richmond.”

Terry gave Aaliyah an attractive half–smirk. 

“Ask me and you shall receive.”

“Why teaching? Is that something you’ve always had a passion for?”

“That’s a really good question. Uh…yes. I was an instructor when I spent time in the Marines. I trained Marines for combat and firearms. Each day was new and exciting. I’ve always had this…desire to share knowledge, inspire others, and make a positive impact. Although my pops wanted me to continue into the Marines, I fell in love with Psychology. So…I got my PhD a year ago, and here I am.”

Aaliyah sat her face into her hands with her elbows propped up on the table, listening to him like he was retelling a fairytale story. Her eyes sparkled with joy at listening to him drone on about moving to North Carolina with his parents after Katrina, enlisted into the Marines, finished his undergrad, living there up until the age of twenty–seven before he moved back to Louisiana to attend LSU. Both of his parents are still together and living in North Carolina. Their food arrived and they tucked in, talking in between bites.

Terry was happy that Aaliyah is in better spirits. She smiled and giggled and it warmed his heart. She thanked him for cheering her up. Terry was honored. The topic veered to hobbies and interests. Aaliyah shared that she used to be a majorette dancer.

“Fishing? Living outdoors? Wow. I grew up doing farm work and riding horses but nothing that deep,” Aaliyah responded with a giggle.

“I can take you sometime…show you what it’s like.”

Terry cocked his head to the side and stared at Aaliyah. She held onto his gaze, the tip of her tongue peeking through her teeth. Terry wanted to wrap his full lips around her tongue and suck on it.

“So…is it a date then? Taking me fishing and camping, Professor?” Aaliyah teased.

“I’ll take you anywhere,” Terry slurped down some water.

“Anywhere?” Aaliyah dragged out with her cutesy voice and lips twinged with a sultry smile.

“Anywhere…anything for you.”

“I like the sound of that,” Aaliyah smiled, “You’ve earned the privilege to spoil me.”

They laughed in unison.

“How did I earn it, exactly?” Terry quirked a brow up and narrowed his eyes playfully.

“Giving me two thousand dollars cash was enough to let me know,” Aaliyah replied bluntly.

Terry chucked. He licked his lips, eyes scanning the space before he lowered his voice an octave, “You liked that, huh?”

“More than you’ll ever know…”

“Let me know, girl…”

Aaliyah tucked her chin and giggled.

“Let me know…” Terry persisted.

“I didn’t like it I love it. I’m a princess and I should be treated accordingly.”

Terry’s eyelids lowered slightly. He leaned in on his arms, eyes roaming her body before staring into her eyes again. He felt a sensation so deep within his ripped core. Something akin to butterflies. Aaliyah excited him. That mouth on her…he loved it.

“The minute I laid my eyes on you at that bachelor party…you were gettin’ all my money…”

“Good, that’s what I wanted,” Aaliyah nibbled on her straw with a teasing smile.

Terry licked his lips. He stared at her through his spectacles while his fingers drummed against the table slowly. Aaliyah sat her glass down and leaned back against the booth.

Staring.

They were practically eye–fucking each other.

Beneath that table, Aaliyah took it upon herself to run her pointed, left foot up Terry’s right leg. She did it achingly slow. It traveled up and up until she stopped with her foot propped up against his seat between his legs. Terry did one lazy sweep of his eyes over her foot and his teeth latched onto his bottom lip.

”Aaliyah…”

“Huh?”

Terry was going to lose it. Lose all his control. He was itching to walk her to the back of the restaurant, push her into a bathroom stall, and beat that fat pussy up with her chest against the door and his large hands keeping her pinned in place and stable on that dick.

“If I could tell you how beautiful you are…how gorgeous you are a million times I would. The moment I laid eyes on you at the beginning of the semester…I couldn’t ignore it. The feeling. I just knew that I had to have you…”

Aaliyah sat transfixed by his words. Lips slightly parted, eyes misty. He loved that look on her face. He wanted her to look at him like that in a kneeled position with his dick hanging in her face waiting to be tended to.

The thoughts in his mind…

“Wow,” Aaliyah chuckled breathlessly, “You want me that bad, huh? Wow…”

She acted as if a man never pined for her so deep like Terry. His unspoken energy even spoke volumes.

He. Needed. Aaliyah.

Professor or not.

“You don’t even know…”

“Mm,” Aaliyah shut her eyes and nibbled on her bottom lip. Her eyes opened slowly, “Terry…you gotta stop.”

They chuckled, Aaliyah’s thighs clenching beneath the table and Terry’s thighs swinging back and forth.

“Why stop?” Terry whispered.

Aaliyah kisses her teeth, “‘Cause…”

Her cute voice was enough to make the tip of his dick respond. He could feel himself leaking.

Thank God the waiter returned with the check. Terry paid the tab, and Aaliyah looked at him, not quite ready to go. Terry didn’t want to, but he had an evening course starting within the next hour or so and he needed to head back to campus.

Fuck that class. Look what’s in front of of you, nigga…

“You ready?” Terry questioned reluctantly.

——

They hadn’t even made it out of Noir for two seconds before it started again. They quickened their pace as the clouds began to gather in the sky. Up to now, the sky had been postcard-perfect, but it was changing. The beautiful cocktail-blue shade was beginning to darken into gravel-grey. Large pillows of clouds were forming, blotting out the old-gold colour of the sun.

Aaliyah got the first splatter of rain when she was halfway across the parking lot. She took shelter under her Jean jacket, hoping that she could see out past the shower. Terry’s brawny bicep pulled her closer while he covered himself with his own jacket. Droplets of moisture began to drip from the leaves. They were sprinkling onto the concrete like a gardener’s hose. Then the rainfall became more intense. A wall of rain moved over the oak trees and the drops were drumming against the tops of cars. So much rain was falling that the sound blurred into one long, whirring noise. It reminded her of the rotor blades on a helicopter.

Terry’s truck was closer. He rushed to fling the door opened, helping Aaliyah inside before sprinting to his side and climbing in. He slammed the door shut before tossing his drenched suit jacket onto the back seat. The humidity caused the car windows to fog as it poured. Eventually, the noise lessened and the drops faded into a musical chime. They sought out each other’s gaze and laughed.

Aaliyah threw her head back and sighed with contempt. This was a great lunch date. She was so happy she came. After bawling her eyes out about her mother, she needed some fun. Terry was more than just his looks. He was so refreshing. Such a gentleman. Hard working. So deeply fascinated with her. And it was more than just a lustful gaze. A gaze Aaliyah was more than used to. No. This man wanted her.

Aaliyah turned her cheek against the headrest to watch him. Terry felt her eyes and he gave her his undivided attention.

“I want to see you again, as soon as possible, Aaliyah.”

The urgency in his voice let her know he was a man about action.

“I’ll let you know what my days are looking like…okay?”

Terry hummed. The sound vibrated her core. He was impatient.

“Why not check on that now? Friday for an hour and thirty minute class ain’t enough.”

The bite in his voice sounded so much different from his professional tone. Aaliyah was stunned.

“Okay,” She pulled out her phone from her bag, “I have plans Saturday with friends…”

“Friday night?”

“Nothing.” Aaliyah replied.

“Then how about Friday? I’ll take you to dinner.”

“I have to study, Terry.” Aaliyah said, a playful glint in her eyes.

Aaliyah clocked the way Terry’s chest rose and fell with each deep breath. She imagined what he looked like beneath his business attire. Her imagining could only conjure up enough for her to fantasize about. She needed to see the real thing. Up close. Touch on him and memorize the planes and valleys of muscle threatening to bring the freak out of her. He looked like he could bench press and squat three times her size and Aaliyah wanted to test that theory. In many positions.

“I’ll help you study.”

“Isn’t that cheating?!” Aaliyah replied.

“It’s called tutoring, baby girl.”

Baby girl? Oh fucking hell…

Aaliyah became acutely aware of her nipples hardening. So did Terry. His eyes were glued to her breasts sitting up and jutted out.

Terry reached down beside him and his seat reclined back. Aaliyah’s heart skipped a beat. He gave her a pointed look. Aliyah’s eyes fell to his inviting lap…and a rather mountainous bulge…

It was as if the blood coursing through his body carried downward and pooled into his…

The veins in his arms…she could see them clearer now. His large hands resting against his thighs…that man spread…she felt a buzzing in her ears. The silent dominance in his posture…

Aaliyah lifted from her seat in a frenzy, Terry scooped her up with one powerful arm around her waistline and Aaliyah climbed over his lap. She sat herself snugly over his thick bulge that protruded from the crotch of his navy blue slacks like an eruption was waiting to happen. Her fat pussy sat on that protrusion and her breath hitched.

“Professor…”

Terry’s large hands double–cuffed her thick ass and he forced his grip upward, arching her back. Those thick, long fingers sank into the plump flesh as he groped her. One hand above her, pressed against the roof of the car, Aaliyah allowed the feeling of him squeezing and jiggling her cakes to consume her.

His glasses had fogged up. Their mingled, uneven breaths along with the sound of the leather seats filled the space between them. Aaliyah felt his hands smooth around to the junction between her thighs and booty and he applied force, making her ass move on its own—left cheek, right cheek— peering down over her shoulder while she was pressed against him. Aaliyah had her feet folded over his knees.

“Ughhh….”

A deep grunt followed by his arms wrapping around her waist tight. Biceps cutting into her back. The new position had Aaliyah sitting over his print harder. They sat like that for a few minutes, Terry’s nose was pressed against her neck, inhaling cool air and exhaling heated air that caused goosebumps to spread.

His arms loosened and Aaliyah tilted her head down to meet his eyes. She removed Terry’s glasses, resting them inside of his cup holder. The interior of his car smelled like blackberry clove and leather. He smelled like sandalwood. Those eyes. She got lost in them before tearing her gaze away to stare at his lips.

“Can I kiss you?” Terry asked softly.

Aaliyah closed the space between them and one of Terry’s hands tangled into her wet coils while his other hand sat above her ass. They gave each other an open–mouthed kiss filled with a feverish need for each other. Wet smacking noises sent signals of arousal. Eyes closed, heads swiveling, equally tasty and soft lips molding into each other’s. Aaliyah allowed her hands to run beneath his dress shirt and white better, coming into contact with warm skin stretched over an impressive physique.

“Unh…”

She found herself moaning.

A single finger of Terry’s traced the waistline of her leggings. The sensation caused her body to shiver. Aaliyah sat up, leaning back against his steering wheel. Terry locked eyes with her while his fingers brushed from her waist down to her pussy. The heat radiating from there could have added to the fog on the windows .

“You deserve so much…you’re so fuckin’ sexy…”

Aaliyah adjusted herself to tilt her body against his so that Terry could put his hand down her leggings.

“Damn…it’s like that, baby?”

“Uh-huh…”

Terry’s hand cupped her fat pussy through her thong. Aaliyah clung to his shoulders while holding his gaze. Terry’s tongue—thick and pink—poked out and Aaliyah accepted the invitation of touching tongues with him. His fingers moved her panties to the side. He grunted into Aaliyah’s mouth.

“Damn…damn…”

His fingers rubbed up and down. Aaliyah spread her thighs further.

“There you go…nasty girl… spreading your legs like that…want me to touch all over this pussy…I like that…”

His words. She whimpered when his fingers started doing that up and down motion between her swollen labia and over her stiff clit. Aaliyah couldn’t believe how wet her pussy is. Creamy viscous spread all over her.

“Unh…Terry…”

“This what you think about? You think about me expressing how much I want you with my fingers in your pussy?…”

Two fingers sank deep. Aaliyah’s mouth dropped open. Terry’s brows furrowed and his eyes would flicker from her face to his hand moving up and down in her leggings.

“Aaliyah…this lil’ pussy tight, girl…I can’t believe I’m fingering you right now…”

He looked like he couldn’t believe it. Jade eyes intense.

“It’s s–s–so, wet…”

His words stuttered out in disbelief.

“My pussy like you just as much as I do, Professor…”

Aaliyah chewed on her bottom lip and her head lulled back. She started bouncing on his fingers. Damn, she missed this. She missed being fingered the proper way. She ain’t have dick in almost a year. The last man to have her was a mistake and not even worth mentioning. All she could focus on was keeping her legs spread and that pussy open.

“Good girl…you follow directions well…I like that,” Terry dragged his teeth along his bottom lip, “Look at me, Aaliyah…”

She did as she was told.

“I played your little game. Now what?”

He was toying with her.

This man…this was another side to him she was more than excited to see.

“Now you make me cum…make me cum, Professor.”

Terry chuckled, “Make this pussy cum?”

His fingers were knuckle deep.

“Send me home in a puddle, Terry…”

“Mmm…that sweet, little voice gon’ get you in trouble…keep moaning…uh-huh…mhmmmm…”

Aaliyah clamped down on his fingers. She lowered her head over his headrest and rode out her orgasm. So intense. It hit her like a freight train. Terry pressed deeper, stroking a spot that had Aaliyah crying. Terry gently withdrew his fingers. Aaliyah’s breaths slowed down, but her body was still recovering from the after shocks.

His hand resurfaced just as the sun peered over the storm clouds. The aroma of her pussy and the cum clinging to his fingers flooded her nose in the best way. Terry held his manicured fingers up. Aaliyah locked her gaze on creamy–white goodness all over his fingers and dripping down to his wrist.

Terry played with it. Rubbing his fingertips together. Spreading his fingers to see how slimy it looked. Aaliyah watched him suck each finger while his eyes never left her face.

“I taste good?” Aaliyah asked with a smile.

“Fuckin’ amazing, baby…”

Terry licked his lips and Aaliyah leaned in to steal a kiss. They kissed for some time before Terry broke away. He released a growl of frustration.

“I gotta head back to campus…I have an exam for my next class…”

Aaliyah pecked his lips before climbing off his lap and into her seat. Terry had his lip pouted while fixing himself. Aaliyah giggled, her eyes dropping down to his neglected erection. He caught her watching, grabbing her wrist and sitting her hand over his bulge.

It…was…thick…

“It’s so big…”

Aaliyah explored, squeezing and stroking…Terry swiped his bottom lip with his tongue and closed his eyes for a second to gather himself. Aaliyah removed her hand and Terry looked over at her like he didn’t want her to stop. Ever. She didn’t want to go, but Terry needed to get back to Campus. The last thing she’d ever want to do is sabotage his career.

“I don’t want to leave, but it’s okay…I’ll see you Friday, right?” Terry questioned, grabbing Aaliyah’s hand and kissing the back of it over and over.

“Yes. I’ll be there…”

Terry made a come hither motion and Aaliyah obeyed, slipping him some final tongue before they parted ways. Terry put his glasses back on, giving Aaliyah one final look of longing. She knew she had to be the one to leave him behind because if she didn’t, he would have skipped the class and spent the rest of the day proving to her just how much he needed her.

“Bye, Professor.”

Aaliyah opened the car door. She hopped down from his truck, grabbing her jean jacket. She blew Terry a kiss before shutting his door and heading towards her Jeep.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the taste of her pussy on his tongue and her scent on his fingers while he lectured.

——

Aaliyah 🌹: Studying for an exam tomorrow. I’ll talk to you later, okay? I had a really great time today 😏 just might touch myself thinking about it. Sweet Dreams, Professor. Xoxoxo 👄

Terry moved towards his living room, an NBA game on in the background. He was shirtless with black joggers on and a durag over his short curls. A single gold cross chain sat in the middle of his pecs. The heels of his socked feet sat into the throw rug beneath him. He had grilled salmon, broccoli, and dirty rice for dinner.

Aaliyah.

That woman awakened something primal in him. Although his eyes bounced back and forth across the screen, his mind wandered to the way his taste buds craved more pussy. He had such a good time getting to know her. The way her lips felt like the softest cushion against his lips. The soft, little whimpers she made drove him crazy. He dragged a hand down his face.

He studiously ignored the monster in his joggers.

Could’ve been full of something else if you had just taken what was in front of you.

The game did nothing to calm down his body. He flipped through the channels looking for something, anything to distract himself from the length of his dick pulsing against his thigh. Terry shifted his hips on the couch, the fight to ignore it impossible.

“Send me home in a puddle, Terry.”

Terry could still hardly believe that he had Aaliyah in his lap, lips against hers, fingers deep in her pussy, and in public. The morbid excitement from earlier returned to him in tenfold, echoing in the throb of his manhood. He stared forward at the movements on his television unseeingly, fighting his mind as it tried to conjure up an image of himself between Aaliyah’s legs. Her pretty pussy gleaming at him naughtily making his mouth water. He wanted to be the only one to taste her for as long as he lived. To bury his face in between her buttery–smooth thighs to kiss, lick and tongue fuck her until she was a whimpering, quivering mess. His name a constant chant on her lips as she feebly tried to push him away after her orgasm. He wouldn’t stop. Not until all she wanted was him.

“Terry…Terry…right there, Terry…”

“Shit,” he grunted as he lifted his hips off the couch slightly, pulling his joggers down to his thighs, his engorged dick springing free, curving up to look at him. The purpling head waved in the air at him in greeting and invitation. Terry scrubbed a hand over his face at the sight, exasperated at his excitement for a girl he’d never seen naked and his inability to turn this shit off. Sleep wasn’t going to come easily to him if he didn’t take care of big boy first.

Terry’s eyes tracked a drop of precum as it dribbled over his head and down his pulsating shaft, collecting at his heavy balls. His dick was quite literally demanding attention, the veins overly pronoucned along the sides beating in time with his heart, and he was hard pressed not to give in. He hadn’t touched himself in a few days, work had kept him busy and the thoughts of Aaliyah after the bachelor party had given him a reason to. He quickly contemplated walking back to his room and using his fleshlight to get the job done before he decided against it. He was too needy to move now.

Tentative fingers ran over the velvety tip, collecting the beads of moisture there and spreading them around slowly. He closed his blue–gray eyes and pushed his head back into the sofa cushion with a flex of his hips. A harsh ‘fuck’ escaped his clenched teeth at the sensitivity. This was going to be quick, rough and lacking any of the finesse he usually showcased in any moment of sexual gratification. Even if that moment was just with him.

Terry’s dominant hand wrapped lightly around himself, trying to mimic how his Aaliyah would touch him, his other dragging over his exposed abdomen. His hand pulled down roughly, electing a low groan from him, as a fantasy bloomed in his mind. He could see her behind his lids that had fallen closed. Kneeling in front of him, between his parted thighs, bright eyes glued to his expression as she bit her lip in concentration. Watching him with that sassy look she got any time she wanted things her way.

Terry spread his knees as far as his joggers would allow, his hand twisting and pulling himself, gaining momentum with every tight pass of the head. Thumb coming up to swiped over the moist slit. Half curses spewed out of him as his pace quickens, his free hand coming down to fondle his sack. Rolling it between his fingers. The sensation doing nothing to abate his impending release.

“Fuccccckkk…..” his voice hitched and raised, battling with the enthusiastic wet sounds of his hand pumping.

His fantasy girl looked between him and his twitching dick, her hand moving as fast as he was. She licked her parted lips and leaned towards his thick pipe. Her warm breath only heightened his pleasure as she whispered to him lowly.

“Cum for me, Professor…”

And he did just that. His heels dug into the plush rug beneath him, using it for leverage as he fucked up into his hand, the coil in his belly growing tighter until it snapped. A croak of Aaliyah’s name bouncing off his walls. Thick spurts of warm cum landing haphazardly across his upper body didn’t deter him as he continued to drag his fist over his oozing dick until the motion became too much for his overly sensitive body. Legs shuddering with each pass.

Terry let go with a deep sigh, taut body relaxing slowly until he was sitting naturally in his seat. Terry glanced down at the evidence of his ecstasy littered across his chest, stomach and hand.

He huffed an annoyed laugh at how quickly his orgasm had taken him. And how hard his dick still was as it bobbed in front of him, his stamina was working against him this time around. With a disbelieving shake of his head, he gripped the base, pulling his hand with a slow rotation of his wrist upwards. His release making the perfect slick for round two.

“F–fuuck, babyyy…” Terry hissed at the feeling. He let go, palming the head a few seconds to stave off the mounting pressure. He would not come that quickly again.

Terry took his time, languidly pulling at his dick, unrushed. Rubbing his free hand up and down his stomach, tweaking his nipple quickly before sliding back down. He repeated this process as his hand gradually picked up speed.

The short nails on Terry’s left hand bit deliciously into his skin as he raked them down his chest and stomach. The sharp pain was closely followed by a wave of hazy pleasure causing his hips to buck faster into his hand. He abandoned all notion of slow, the tightening in his balls and urge to reach completion pushing fast and hard to the forefront of his mind. The juxtaposition of two intense sensations never failed to throw him over the edge.

Terry threw his head back, neck straining as he clenched his jaw. A constant string of yes, fuck, yes screaming in his head as his abdominal muscles flexed and clenched. His hand is almost a blur with how quickly he’s moving.

Twist

Grip

Plunge

Slap

Squeeze

Fucking Aaliyah did this to him. Those eyes, that smile, her voice, that goddamn body…

Flashes of her twerking in a split, making that ass clap, looking back at it, licking her lips with that tongue ring, talking her shit, how sweet her pussy tasted, how snug her walls were around his fingers.

He wished it was her. Her delicate hand working him. Her brown eyes drooping with arousal. Her heavenly voice encouraging him to go ahead. Let go. He could almost smell her. Almost taste her.

Her pussy was so fucking sweet. He couldn’t wait to suck on her pussy. He wanted to bury his nose into it and draw in a deep breath that almost burned his lungs. He wanted to make her unravel beneath his tortuous tongue and lips. Over and over and over—

He erupted at the thought, breathing hard and keening through his messy release. The second nut even more than the first. Still, he continued to stroke, torturing himself, milking himself like he wanted her to.

Terry was out of breath by the end of it. Body spent and tingling.

So much for not cumming quickly.

He sat there for a long time, waiting for the hollow feeling to retreat from his bones, his cum cooling on his skin. He needed to take another shower.

But what he really needed was her.

Friday couldn’t come fast enough.

@theereina @bombshellbre95 @planetblaque @trippyscotch @megamindsecretlair @uzumaki-rebellion @thesweetestdrug @theblulife @hotgrlcece @blackerthings @deja-r @helloncrocs @hearteyes-for-killmonger @kaylabuggggg06 @skyesthebomb @blyffe @gwenda-fav @beenathembo @blackpinup22 @novaniskye @melaninhawtie @urfavblackbimbo @avoidthings @rose-bliss @xo-goldengirl @kinginwithbreezy-blog @mysecertdiaryofableedingheart @sirenmouths @creartivefairy @soulfulbeauty19 @therealmrsrhodes @hrlzy @nayaesworld @gg-trini @brattyfics @flydotty @writingsbytee @shiania @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @madamzola @kismet83 @aristasworld @sl33p-deprived-princess @erynnnn @itssbrie @melaninangel @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @sweettea-and-honeybutter @dashhoney25

[vxnuslogy]

— 11:11 wishes.

pairing: kinich x gn!reader

premise: you weren't one to believe in manifestation that the media portrays, but the student council vice president has made you think otherwise.

— warnings: reader is me coded (re: delusional), just pure fluff, modern/school setting.

— author's note: heavily inspired by my own experiences and shit. art credits to @.n429g on twt. | 2.6k words.

— tags: @ryescapades @moineauz @mikashisus @https-sourlimes ; if you'd like to be tagged, please fill out the forms in my pinned!!

you spent an entire hour and a half staring at the pretty boy two seats in front of you. again. 

with a frustrated groan and very aggressively typed out messages to mualani, you heave out a sigh and watch your bedside clock tick. it was 11 minutes to the wishing hour and you were very much considering wishing kinich would miraculously be your partner for your next nonfiction project. you’re not sure how long you spent daydreaming about the way the student council vice president spun the pen in his hand with ease or how he always seemed so serious and mysterious. by the time you look back at your clock it was barely 2 minutes before 11:11 pm hit and you scrambled to sit up.

“am i really about to try and manifest this guy?” you ask in disbelief as the magic numbers appear and you find yourself closing your eyes, lips muttering a soft wish, “please let him be my partner for this project.”

now, you weren’t much of a believer in manifestation per se, but when you woke up earlier than your alarm and with the birds chirping, you just knew something good was going to happen today. 

as you make your way to school, you peek at the bulletin board mualani and the rest of the council is working on for foundation week. unsurprisingly there was a crowd of students around it, all trying to catch the eye of the president and her right hand man. mualani has always said you stare at people like a hawk because she spun around from what she was doing and waved at you, very exaggeratedly mind you. the boy you spent the entire night thinking about suddenly turned to the commotion and you were left to awkwardly wave hello before making your way to the classroom. 

his stare was intense—you felt it all the way until you turned a corner—but you can’t deny the sudden heat that rose to your cheeks when you remembered the color of his eyes. vibrantly shiny and green; like seeping sunlight through the leaves of summer trees. it was a sight to behold, unforgettable dare you say. you thought about the way his bangs framed his face, the slight smudge of paint on his cheeks, and the way you caught a glimpse of how his hand slightly raised as if to wave hello until your english class started.

“and for our last pair: [name] and kinich.”

now, it’s no surprise that you don’t listen in class (you and mualani joke that if either of you ever listened to a class the world might end) but this? this piqued your attention so badly you nearly toppled over your own chair. the hushed giggles of your classmates rang in your ears as maroon rushed to your cheeks. your eyes unwittingly found their way to the pretty boy two seats in front of you who willingly caught your stare. he looked equally intrigued and amused and you can’t help the awkward smile you flash at him.

“holy shit, it worked.”

you feel mualani’s judging stare as you unabashedly kick your feet in glee as a wide smile spreads on your face.

“get well soon,” she jokingly says, stealing her shark plush from your arms as you pout at her. mualani rolls her eyes at you and smacks you with the plush which you retaliate by throwing a pillow at her. “give me a pass! this is a first for me.”

“and i hope it’ll be the last!” you glare at her as she dodges another pillow. laughing as she skips out of your room leaving you on your bed with your phone and the paragraph you still haven't sent.

‘why is green your favorite color?’

after your first—very awkward—conversation with kinich, he graciously gave you his number to stay in touch for this project. it was rather simple really: pair up, interview each other, write a biography. easy right? well, not when your partner is the definition of a wallflower at its peak. you’re not complaining though, in your last class with him (that was literally just 3 days ago), he had allowed you to talk his ear off and asked if it was alright if he just talked to you over text. still unsure and admittedly (though not verbally) shy to open up to a person he’s only known for less than a week.

so here you are now, exchanging texts with the guy you lowkey have a crush on, unsure of how to rephrase your answer to not make it so obvious that you like him. no way in hell you’ll just shoot a text that says, “oh, i like green because you always wear a green hoodie to school.” you’d die from embarrassment! but then again, kinich has mentioned in a previous question on how he preferred straightforward people.

with an aggressive thumb pressed to the back button, you type out a new message that wasn’t two paragraphs long that described the color of his eyes.

“the color reminds me of summertime. what about you? what’s your favorite color?”

he doesn’t even give you a chance to put your phone down for a full minute before it buzzes with a new notification. with mortifyingly fast reflexes, you shove your phone to your face, your own screen brightness flashing you as your heart hammers in your chest. fuck butterflies in your stomach, you had an entire zoo with the series of messages kinich had sent.

“blue. you were wearing a blue bracelet when we first met and i really liked it.”

“and”

“it suits you”

“is that a weird thing to say?”

what… the… fuck…?

mualani’s footsteps raced against your carpeted stairs as she barged into your room, half eaten cookie in her hands. her worry dissipated into a judging but amused smile as you pace around your room, hands covering your face—you were quite sure steam was rising out of your head with how warm your face felt.

“mualani, he remembered,” you say in disbelief as you fall to your ass, sitting on your bedroom floors. grabbing the nearest plush on your bed and screaming into it as mualani laughs. “this is not funny!”

“but it is!” she insists, wiping a fake tear from her eyes. “you’re such a goner.”

“but he remembered the color of my bracelet!” you throw your hands up in the sky, rushing to your feet and grabbing your best friend by her shoulders. “who the fuck remembers the color of someone’s bracelet?!”

mualani laughs again as she peels your grip from her shoulders. “kinich. and you better get used to it, that guy has an even more hawkish stare than you.”

yeah, mualani was right, you were a goner. how the hell are you going to sit in front of him in your next class without bursting into a million pieces?

staying up with mualani until half past midnight was not a good idea because here you two were, laughing in panic as you both rushed to get ready for school. this girl, you swear she’ll get you expelled one way or another (but you won’t have it any other way). 

with all the previous treacherous pe classes in your system, you try your best to keep up with mualani’s athleticism under the chilly morning breeze. you might be laughing now but if you were to show up late in english even if it's only by a minute or two, you’ll get cooked on the spot by your teacher. even worse! kinich would have a front row seat for the entire fiasco because he always arrives 10 minutes before the actual class.

cursing your lowkey crush’s punctuality as you both speed past other almost late students, you bid mualani a quick goodbye and make a swift turn to your class. in your locked in state, you don’t notice the poor student in front of you. the world stilled for a moment as papers flew like miniature planes as you braced yourself to meet the cold school floors—but it never came.

“are you alright?”

you slowly look up, and there he is—kinich, his brows slightly furrowed, holding you steady with his gentle hands. “be careful,” he says, voice soft but still scolding. “you could’ve gotten hurt.”

“r-right, sorry,” you stammer, trying to ignore the shaking of your hands and thumping of your heart as you scramble to pick up the stray papers on the floor.

your hand paused when kinich’s fingers brushed against your own. kinich catches your gaze, and for a moment, you both still—green eyes filled with warmth, so full of something that pulled you in like a vortex. you can’t look away. heat rises to your checks when he clears his throat, standing up and handing the papers back to the student.

you follow his lead, brushing off imaginary dust from your uniform as you pull out your phone for a quick check on your appearance. you barely have a second to process what just happened when you hear kinich cough again.

“let’s go to class,” he says, covering his mouth with his fist and his eyes avoiding you but you catch the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips. “i’ll tell the teachers i asked you to help me with council work so he won’t mark you as late.”

“oh no, no!” you quickly decline, waving him off with a lopsided smile. “it’s alright, you don’t have to cover for me. i stayed up late last night so it’s still my fault for being late.” you chuckle nervously, but kinich just stands there, watching you closely.

you stiffen like a board when he takes a step towards you, then another, and another until he’s standing right in front of you. well shit, he smelled really nice; unexpectedly floral mixed with a salty ocean breeze. you feel blood rush to your ears when kinich plucks a stray leaf from your hair and did he just chuckle?

“all right then,” he says with a small, barely-there laugh, turning to walk to class. you don’t notice the way he slips his hand through the straps of your bag until he slings it over his shoulders. “let’s get to class. i still have a lot of questions to ask you.”

this boy’s smile truly will be the death of you.

“11:11, i wish to talk to him even after this project.”

you find yourself wishing as you and the rest of mualani’s friends leave the campus after an unexpected cancelation of classes. today marked as the last day of your little getting to know with kinich. you were already finished with his biography and have been purposely leaving out certain bits of information in your answers so you could spend some more time with the boy.

speaking of which, said boy was conversing with xilonen—a pretty third year who you had the pleasure of meeting because of him—regarding the foundation week. all of you agreed to go to a karaoke booth to pass time (more like mualani dragged you to join because of your glum mood), but before you could take another step to your destination, a warm hand catches your wrist and softly tugs you back.

“we’ll catch up,” kinich says as you try to bite back the smile threatening to spill from your face as he plays with the beads of your bracelet. “we need to finish up the biography project.”

mualani complains about why you still aren’t finished. if it weren’t for chasca and xilonen’s persuasion, the younger girl wouldn’t have allowed the two of you to split up. with an amused chuckle, you readjust the straps of your bag and look at kinich who caught your stare.

“shall we go?”

he nods and the walk to the park was spent in quiet appreciation of the sun. when you catch sight of the free swings at the heart of the park, your hand as if magnets came, tug at kinich’s sleeve and drag him to sit down there. bags carelessly thrown to the side as he scolded you on what if something broke. you only laugh in response and gleefully sit down.

“push me?” you ask with a childish smile as kinich shakes his head but still follows through with your request. he gently pushes you on the swings as you hum a small tune. “what questions do you have left?”

kinich stopped pushing you and instead sits down beside you. slowly swinging himself as he says, “nothing. i just wanted to be alone with you.”

the chains of the swings creak softly like your heart as butterflies were set free in your stomach once again. he turns to you—all blushing cheeks and biting back a smile—with a knowing and entertained look in his eyes.

“i hate you,” you randomly say as you swing yourself. trying to cool yourself with the morning air as kinich follows suit. “i’m gonna miss talking to you,” you continued, eyes strained over the horizon as children began to appear with their parents in tow.

“you say that as if this will be the last time we talk.”

you stop swinging and look at him, hands gripping at the chains more tightly than you wanted to admit. “is it not the last time?”

“no.” he quickly replies and you're stunned. “do you want us to stop talking?” he turns to you with a raised brow and you couldn’t hold your smile back anymore as you shake your head no.

“i never really thanked you for saving me from face-planting in front of so many people.” you bring up the memory in jest as you giggle. there was a faint chuckle that the breeze carried as kinich replied, “it was no problem.”

“can i tell you a secret?” you grin at him. you’re not quite sure what spurred you on to suddenly bring this up but truly, it was now or never. “go ahead.”

“i wished you’d be my partner for this project, and wouldn’t you know, it actually happened.”

“oh, i know.”

…

what?

kinich laughs—light like the morning sunlight seeping through summer leaves. you stare at him dumbfounded as red spread across your cheeks. “how the hell did you know?! i never mentioned it before have i?” your voice grew quieter as you trail off. hands coming to shield your flustered face from him.

“no, you didn’t. mualani did though.”

ah. 

he pulls out his phone and flashes you a screenshot of his mualani’s conversation from a month ago. you feel your dignity and pride get sucked out of you as mualani even sent screenshots of you complaining about not knowing how to approach kinich outside of academics, hell, she even had a voice message of her undoubtedly laughing!

“i pulled a few strings for our english class so we’d get paired up,” he said with a cheeky glint in his eyes.

“why?” you ask.

kinich smiles, not the small tugs at the corners of his lips he graces you whenever you do something stupid, a full smile where his teeth caught the light of the sun. “i wanted to be your partner, too. since i granted you a wish it’s only fair you grant me one too.”

you try to ignore the erratic flips your heart was doing from his first statement, putting it on the backburner for now as you chuckle nervously. your palms started to sweat and your mind raced with what kinich could potentially want from you. 

“be my partner for life, that’s my 11:11 wish today.”

god, this boy truly wants to kill you.

© vxnuslogy 2024. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my knowledge or consent in other platforms or websites.

[mjolnirswriststrap]

Not My Type

Bucky Barnes x Plus Size!Reader x Steve Rogers

Word Count: 2,329 Masterlist Part 2

Summary: Bucky is dumb.

Warnings: Fatphobia.

A/N: something short, sweet and simple because I’m starting to feel guilty about not posting 😭

Steve watched, as his friend searched around the club with his eyes. He could assume Bucky was just waiting on the rest of their coworkers to get there, but he knew better. “She’ll get here soon enough, relax.”. Steve leans his back against the booth and takes a long drink of his beer. “Who?” Bucky asks, unconvincingly.

“Y/N.” He says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Bucky scrunches up his face “As if, man.” He ignores the look of disbelief Steve gives him. “Why deny it? I’ve caught you staring her down more times than I can count.”. Steve stands up and waves to signal Natasha to where they sat. “There’s nothing to deny, she’s not my type, leave it there so no one’s feelings get hurt, okay?” Bucky puts the bottle to his lips to shush himself when he sees you approach the booth.

“You guys look.” Steve’s speechless as he takes in the silk nighties the girls adorned. They all wore semi matching babydoll dresses. Color coded fishnets and heeled slippers adorned their long legs. Their hair was high and teased, makeup adding to the sultry bedtime look they were going for.

“You’re gonna catch flies.” Wanda remarks, leaving to find Vision having the time of his life with the DJ. Steve’s reaction to their costumes did nothing to calm your nerves. You went with the housewife costume too. Just a different approach entirely. Your hair sat in victory rolls atop your head, a thick stack of curls laying on your shoulders, a knee length dress with three quartered sleeves covered you. You’re painted your eyebrows on thinly, just to over line your lips, filling them in with your favorite red Mac lipstick. You were the most modest in your costume, but the most accurate.

You couldn’t wear a see through nightgown to the club. You would die of embarrassment, your rolls would be everywhere. At least in this thick cotton dress, no one could see the layers of shape wear you wore. You slid into the booth and sat beside Steve, getting sandwiched in when Sam finally arrives, late with no costume. “What took you so long, huh khakis?” You tease him, feeling nothing but comfort in his presence.

“You ever had to tell a 10 year old his idea isn’t good enough.” He laughs, “, You should go as yourself Unc!” He recalls the boys words over the phone. “Oh, of course, looks like a superhero to me!” You giggle, loving the thought of his nephews building up his self esteem. He was new to the team, no super strength or speed. Just courage, you admired Sam.

You finally take the chance to look around the booth. Steve wore his vintage Captain America suit, claiming it still fits like a glove. Bucky didn’t wear a costume, just his regular black t-shirt and leather jacket, no effort, even for Halloween. It helped Sam not look so out of place, so you just rolled your eyes at him. He tried way to hard to act like he didn’t care about anything, or anyone. You hate people like that, too self absorbed to carry on a conversation with someone who doesn’t benefit them.

You had been on the wrong side of his attitude before. Bumbling up to him after your first meeting. Stretching out your hand for a shake, he barely touched your hand as he shook your fingers, nodding at you with a curt “Welcome.” You didn’t think much of it till he sat beside Yelena, who got recruited the same day as you, and sparked up a lively conversation with her, telling her if she needs anything at the compound to come ask him. That was the first time Bucky hurt your feelings, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“Y/N!” Someone yells at you from the dance floor. It’s Yelena dancing alone, “You promised me a dance.” She says, holding her arms out for you. You nudge Sam on the shoulder and do the most embarrassing scoot out of the booth you could imagine. Your dress rode up in the time you’d been sitting there, causing your thighs to stick to the old leather. Your face grimaces and you peel your skin away, hoping no one noticed.

“I’m on the dance floor, as promised.” You say, holding her hands while she dances on you. “You’re gonna need to do more than stand there if you want him to notice you.” She remarks, not skipping a beat. Yelena knew you too well, she knew you picked the 40s for a reason, not going with their free spirit 60s slumber get up.

Giving her a wide eyed look, as if he heard over the thumping music. “We both know I have no rhythm, stop that.” You giggle when she presses her back against you and slides down into a squat. She goes behind you and grabs your hips, forcing you against her chest. She grinds you into her pelvis, using her hands to guide your hips in sync with hers. You never moved that way before, and the sensuality of it had your heart racing. Yelena could be anyone, tightly holding on to you, you closed your eyes and threw your head back on her shoulder, just to imagine it was him for a moment.

You feel Yelena’s lips tickle your ear and she’s whispering “Look who can’t take their eyes off of you.” You tilt your head down and open your eyes to lock them with Bucky’s. He looks angry, like you pissed in his cheerios. You turn your body around to face Yelena, “I think he’s upset I’m blocking his view from you.”. That causes her to laugh out loud, grabbing your shoulders to shake you. “You’re mad woman! Look at what’s right in front of you.”. You laugh and look behind you to see Bucky staring down his beer now, instead of you.

“Yelena, I don’t know how to put this, he probably doesn’t even go for girls like me, skinny blonde seems more his type. You, you seem more his type.” You plead with her. She just shakes her head, “He doesn’t like me, I promise, Y/N.” You nod your head, trusting the closest friend you had.

•••••••

You make your way to the bar, grabbing a drink to cool yourself off. You’re walking back to the booth to get off your feet when you overhear Steve and Bucky’s conversation.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“You look like a helpless puppy, just make your move.”

“As if I’d need to, she’s probably never had male attention, that’s too easy.”

“Just admit that you’re afraid of rejection.”

“From her? Never in a million years would fatty have a chance. Like I said she’s obviously not my type.”. Bucky instantly regretted the words as they came out of his mouth, he didn’t mean it. But Steve wouldn’t stop accusing him of having a crush on you.

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but you push them down. You knew better, Yelena didn’t, you shouldn’t have let her give you false hope. You choke down your pride and turn the corner, sliding into the booth as if nothing happened. “I think this is my last drink guys, I’m getting tired, and winter training starts tomorrow.”.

An echo of ‘boos’ and a “noooo why.” Almost tempt you to stay. But you know you’re not wanted here, by the one person that mattered. Steve catches your attention, “Are you sure? The nights still young.” He wiggles his brows. You give him a tight lipped smile, knowing he tried to get Bucky to make a move.

“Yeah, there’s really not much for me here. I came for Natasha.” He nods, giving Bucky a death glare. You finish your drink and when you stand up the previous shots you had with Wanda hit you. You quickly sit back down, grabbing the table for stability. “Are you alright?” Steve rests his hand on your lower back, scooting closer to you.

You shake your head, not being able to form words. You think you’d faint if you didn’t focus on breathing. “Let me help you home.” He can see the unsure expression on your face. “Wouldn’t be respecting the suit if I didn’t make sure you got home safe.”. With that he convinced you.

When the cold October air hits your face, it sobers you a little bit, taking away the dizzy feeling, leaving you with a thumping head. Steve takes a few minutes to join you outside, you left him in a heated whisper match with Bucky.

You’re leaned against the side of the building when he finds you. “Ready to go?” He offers you his arm but you shake your head. “No need to be such a gentleman, it’s just me.” You say, knowing he’s doing it just to be nice.

Steve cocks his head to the side. “Why shouldn’t I be a gentleman towards you?” He asks. You press your pounding head against the brick wall, closing your eyes to think of the right words. “The only reason a guy needs to be a gentleman is for good impressions. I highly doubt you feel a need to impress me.”.

He scoffs at you, “What gives you the impression that you’re not worth impressing?”. Even though you were tipsy, Bucky’s words seared your frontal lobe. You suddenly are at a loss for words. How do you tell him you were eavesdropping on their conversation.

“I just don’t get much male attention I guess.” You let him in, his eyes widen in realization that you heard Bucky’s harsh words. “I’m sorry about him, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” He says, stepping closer to you. You roll your eyes at him.

“No, he knew exactly what he was talking about. Fatty is no one’s type. No one looks at me and thinks “woah, the most beautiful woman in the world just walked in the room”.” You push yourself off the wall. “I understand that you wouldn’t get that, since you’re so perfect Steve. Women lay down at your feet, your options are endless. But not for someone like me.”.

Steve’s face had turned into a stone. His jaw clenched tightly. He let you vent out your frustrations. “The way you looked at the girls, the way half the club looked at the girls, I’ll never have that.”. You look at your feet and notice him take a step closer to you. You look up to see your faces not too far apart.

“I was looking at you too.” He reaches out, letting his hands hover over your waist. He rests them on your hips when your don’t push him away. “I don’t care what he said, he’s just insecure, he can’t admit that he thinks you’re hot.” You scoff at him this time.

“Steve whatever you’re doing, I get the whole nice guy thing. But just stop.” You say, pressing your hand against his chest. The thin polyester did nothing to conceal his smooth muscles. You feel him squeeze your sides tighter, his thumbs pressing into your belly. “He doesn’t speak for me.”.

You look into his dark eyes. “What are you saying?”. You’d never even humored yourself by considering Steve. You now had to rethink every encounter you ever had with him. “Forget him, let me show you how a real man appreciates a woman.”

He slides his hands down, letting them grasp as much of your ass that could fit in them. You gasp, he wasn’t afraid of your body, he knows what it has to offer. Judging by the way he gripped on to your ass like his life depended on it, he liked it.

“What if someone sees?” You say, pushing his hands off of you. He replaces them “I’m not afraid, why are you?” He leans down, connecting your lips, you’re frozen for a moment. How do you kiss him back? Before you could find out you feel a hand on your shoulder, ripping you away from Steve.

“What are you doing?” Bucky is talking to his friend, ignoring your existence. “Excuse me, we were in the middle of something.” Steve steps between you and Bucky. “You shouldn’t be out here hooking up with a random coworker.” Bucky says, trying to convince himself.

“Y/N isn’t a random coworker, Jesus Bucky, what’s your problem?” Steve asks, letting his anger show. He knew what he was doing, if Bucky wouldn’t admit it on his own, jealousy would work just fine. Bucky balls up his fists at his side “You know what my problem is.”.

You’re staring at Steve’s back, you don’t know what Bucky’s talking about. Is he so repulsed by a plus size woman, he doesn’t even want his friend with one? You were done, you’d never done anything to Bucky besides exist. He had an imaginary problem with you.

You stepped around Steve, crossing your arms in front of your chest. You don’t know where the boost of confidence came from, probably Steve’s lips and hand placement. You look Bucky up and down, truly taking him in.

He was perfect, and he knew it. It was starting to disgust you. “Just because ‘fattys’ like me have no chance with you, doesn’t mean that I’m not worthy of another man being attracted to me.” You take a step back, pressing yourself against Steve. Just to show Bucky, you meant business.

Basing it off of the hard indentation on the front of Steve’s spandex, he liked watching you tell Bucky off. You turn your body around to face him, throwing a look over your shoulder at Bucky, “Take me home Stevie.” You sing song in his ear.

A smirk falls on his lips, “Let’s do that princess.” He says while leading you out of the alley. Bucky is stuck in place, having an internal war with himself, that you weren’t gonna stick around for.