#never felt like it was exactly that in a way

[beloveds-embrace]

Until the Last Loop: the Execution

(How many times must you repeat the same song and dance before the curtain falls?

poly mercenaries 141 x princess reader, time loop

The crowd screamed for your blood.

Their voices rolled over the courtyard like thunder- sharp, frenzied, and hungry, sharks smelling blood in the waters. You didn’t flinch. You had stopped flinching a long time ago. Instead, you stood on the scaffold with your wrists bound in rusted iron and your knees aching from where you’d been forced to kneel, a once-proud back bent into prostration.

The cold bites through the thin silk of your dress. You feel the rough wood splintering beneath your knees, the way the wind stings your skin, the weight of the executioner’s shadow looming above you.

You were not allowed the dignity of a white dress, or a veil or a blindfold. You never were.

The wood creaked beneath you as the executioner shifted, sharpening his blade against a whetstone. Sparks flew, bright and vengeful. You didn’t look at him. You didn’t look at the crowd either, for they were all familiar scenes- so much so you were sure that if you were to be given a canvas and paint, you would be able to redraw it all simply from memory.

Instead, your gaze wandered.

You let your eyes drift across the sea of faces twisted in hatred, searching for the one thing that hadn’t changed in all these lifetimes-

And there he was.

You spotted him near the back, the man in the crowd. As always, standing just close enough to see the platform clearly but far enough to remain unnoticed by the mob. Hooded, broad-shouldered, and still. He didn’t yell. He didn’t jeer.

He just watched. He always did. The same stance, the same gaze.

Your stomach twisted, but you forced yourself to look away. He had been there in every loop, always standing in that exact spot, and you had stopped trying to understand why. Whatever answer you might have once craved had been buried under exhaustion and bitter acceptance, and the defeating knowledge of not knowing where to even start searching for him.

The executioner finished sharpening his blade and stepped closer, his boots heavy against the wood. The crowd’s roar swelled as the official stepped forward and began to read the charges- words you had heard so many times they no longer felt real. Were they here, you wondered, listening to your crimes?

“Treason against the Crown.”

Your nails dug into your palms.

“Conspiracy to overthrow His Majesty.”

You exhaled slowly.

“Attempted regicide.”

The crowd erupted at that, like oil meeting water, and you wondered- not for the first time- if they even cared whether the charges were true. It didn’t matter. They just wanted someone to blame.

And you had always been an easy target.

The executioner raised the blade. The sun caught its edge, and for a brief moment, you saw your reflection- tired eyes, hollow cheeks, and lips pressed into something that could no longer be called a smile.

The crowd roared louder. The executioner took his stance.

You closed your eyes.

And the blade fell.

You wake with a gasp.

The silk sheets cling to your skin, damp with sweat. Your heart hammers against your ribs, a wild animal escaping the clutches of its predator, and for one wild moment, you’re sure you can still feel the blade at your neck, the bite of steel against soft, tender flesh-

But there’s no blood. No pain.

Just sunlight streaming through the tall windows, warm and golden, painting the room in the soft golds and reds of the afternoon.

You stare at the ceiling, swallowing against the bile rising in your throat. The air smells like jasmine and lavender. It always does.

You force yourself to sit up even when your muscles ache, and your wrists burn with phantom pain from where the shackles had been. There are no marks, but the memory lingers, haunting every little move you make.

How many times now?

You stopped counting after twenty. It didn’t matter. It never changed.

The knock at the door comes exactly when you expect it, after you had forced yourself to clean away the sweat rolling down your skin and sat at your settee, begging your heart to calm down.

“Your Highness?”

Your maid’s voice.

You already know what she’ll say, what expression she’ll wear when she steps inside. But you don’t move.

The door opens, and she enters with a bow, her hands folded neatly in front of her, expression detached and polite. And behind her, four men follow.

You don’t need to look to know who they are. They’ve been with you every life, always the same tune and dance.

He stands at the front, broad-shouldered and commanding, streaks of gray in his beard and sharp eyes that feel like knives. You meet his gaze, by now fully used to him and his presence. Price- John, he’d said you can call him either in your last few lives, when your spoilt attitude had been stripped off you with each death.

“You ain’t so bad, princess. Not a hoity-toity piece of work.”

Slowly, the others trickle in after him.

The mask hides most of his face, but you don’t need to see it to know what’s underneath is Ghost. He watches you the way a predator watches its prey- calm, patient, and ready to strike, but you know that later, he will ever so slightly warm up to you.

“I don’t know what to do… I haven’t done anything! You have to believe me!”

“I know. But you’ll catch a cold if you stay out any longer, princess.”

Soap smiles when he steps inside, easy and disarming, but you see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hand rests near the dagger at his hip. That same dagger has saved you before, but not always. In some lives, he is not there with you when you get ambushed- you were such a hard thing to get along with before- and yet in other lives…

“Wee lass, tell me where ye’re goin’, and I’ll protect ye always, aye?”

Quiet, steady, and sharp, like a hawk out for hunting. Gaz’s eyes sweep the room, cataloging every detail before they land on you and he nods towards you. Polite, always polite, even when you’d been like a hissy, feral cat towards him in times. Gentle when you’d been a quiet, reserved version of yourself.

“…will you stay with me? Just tonight? Please, Gaz… I feel lonely.”

“Course, princess. You don’t have to ask.”

You exhale slowly.

They’re different from the crowd, from the nobles and commoners of the kingdom. Always have been, always will be. They don’t look at you with hatred, even if they have their own misconceptions of you. But they’re still here, still close, in this life and before and next and that makes them special to you.

And this time, you… don’t have the energy to keep yourself away from them.

Price steps forward first, always the leader.

“Princess,” he says, and there’s something heavy in the way he says it. Like it means more than just a title. Or maybe less; mercenaries care little for royalty beyond what they can offer them. “We’re here to protect you.”

You almost laugh. Hired by king for no knight wanted to work for you, the shameful stain no one wanted to acknowledge or favor too much.

Instead, you turn your head and stare out the window, heart still pounding against your ribs.

“You’re wasting your time.”

You expect them to leave, even if you shouldn’t. Most people do when you push them away. Though you told yourself you won’t keep yourself away from them, you also truly want to just exist quietly, unperceived, until the inevitable hour arrives and you return back to this point.

But Price doesn’t listen to you, unsurprisingly. You can see your maid scoff about his nonchalant manner out of the corner of your eye.

“We’ll see about that, Your Highness.” He says, unbothered by your attitude.

And when you finally look at him again, his eyes are lingering on you- steady and sharp.

And thus, the loop starts anew.

Part Two

Masterlist

[pleasespellchimerical]

Yeah so I will never forget that article "What Happened After My 13-Year-Old Son Joined the Alt-Right", because it shook me to my core how easy it is to radicalize a kid. And this is exactly what happened - a young teen was struggling, not feeling seen, and was extremely susceptible to alt-right indoctrination.

“I liked them because they were adults and they thought I was an adult. I was one of them,” he said. “I was participating in a conversation. They took me seriously. No one ever took me seriously—not you, not my teachers, no one. If I expressed an opinion, you thought I was just a dumbass kid trying to find my voice. I already had my voice.” I had no idea he’d felt that way. I couldn’t think of anything to say. “All I wanted was for people to take me seriously,” he repeated matter-of-factly. “They treated me like a rational human being, and they never laughed at me. I saw the way you and Dad looked at each other and tried not to smile when I said something. I could hear you both in your room at night, laughing at me.” I struggled for a moment because I wanted to tell him that wasn’t true. But I couldn’t deny his accusation. Behind closed doors, when my husband and I thought our children were asleep, we had often vented to each other about Sam’s off-the-wall proclamations and the bizarre situation we found ourselves in.

Made a massive impression on me about just how important it is to take kids seriously - not just for their sakes (which of course is important), but for the sake of the entire community.

I think a big reason why "children are an oppressed group" gets (wrongly!) read as a "pedophile talking point" is that everyone treats children so terribly that actual child molesters can speedrun winning a kid's trust by like, actually respecting their needs and perspective, at least at first. Which means that the only way out of this mess is for all of us adults to treat children with respect, so that abusers can't use the rareness of that respect as a weapon.

[therantsofawriterrr]

LOOKIN' AT YOU GOT ME SAYING NONSENSE...

Overview: JJK men and their filthy mouths in bed.

Pairings: Gojo Satoru × Reader, Geto Suguru × Reader, Nanami Kento × Reader, Fushiguro Toji × Reader, Sukuna × Reader Word Count: 3.7k

TW: MDNI. EXPLICIT SMUT UNDER THE CUT. Unprotected smut (wrap it before you tap it, people), breeding and creampies, dirty talk, overstimulation, clit play, breast play, pussy slapping (Nanami), cockwarming (Toji), choking (Sukuna), belly bulge (Nanami), spanking (Geto), marathons, pet names, tell me if I missed anything!!

A/N: Hello, this is pretty much my first explicit smut post, that too a jjk one so, um, bear w me if something doesn't make sense, or just any other mistakes.

☆ GOJO SATORU: a quickie before sleep? more like a marathon

"Shhhhh, it's alright, now, baby," He said, his knuckles white as his fingers tightened around the frame of the bed, his pretty cock bullying its way into your puffy folds for the second time that night. "Fuck, fuck, fuckk, don't go squeezing me like that, sweetie-" he gritted out, his jaw clenching as he pinned you with a look, the tips of his white hair tickling your face.

"I'm trying to hold back here."

You weren't supposed to be awake at 11 in the night. You were supposed to be asleep, so that you'd be able to wake up the next morning

His accusative voice made you keen as you arched your back, walls pulsating around him as he groaned and bit his lower lip, hips stuttering forward as you squeezed around him again.

"God, you make it hard to wait," he gritted out, a smirk forming in his face as even through the haze of pleasure, he caught the dirty pun.

"Then- oh!- don't, Satoru," you choked out, feeling so full, so wet, you could feel it flow down to pool onto the sheets, making them messier than they were.

That made him pause, as crystal blue orbs looked down at you, granted, they were more blown out, and you could barely spot the blue rings around his blown out pupils. "What'd you jus' say, sweetheart?"

He sounded absolutely stunned. He always let you adjust a little to everything during sexy times, be it his cock, fingers or mouth. Never had you made such a needy request. And yet, here you were.

You, on the other hand had grown a little shy, a pink blush dusting your cheeks and neck. You bit your lower lip, crying out in surprise when he suddenly pulled his hips back and snapped them back into you.

"Don't get shy, now, darling," he cooed, grinding his hips against yours.

"I told you to-" you were cut off when he hit a particularly sensitive spot, your nails digging into his shoulders. "To not hold back."

It was like something snapped in him as he bent down to give you a deep, sweet kiss, his hands sliding down your sides to lodge themselves on your hips.

You keened when he started setting a pace as he lapped at the sweat on your neck. "This what you wanted, baby?" he asked, stretching your arm above you, intertwining fingers, hitting your sweet spots with every thrust. "Yeah, it is, isn't it? Ugh, you feel like heaven."

You kept babbling about how good it felt as he got quicker, reeling back till his tip stayed and then pushed back in, all at once, making you see stars.

"So tight," he panted. "How're you so tight after everything I do to you?"

His thumb drew circles on your clit, groaning at the way you squeezed his hips between your thighs.

"Yeah, just like that, honey. Just like that. Have me just where you want me, hm? Asking me to not hold back like it won't make me absolutely ruin you, but that's exactly what you want, isn't it?"

He put pressure on your clit, biting his lip as he looked at you, all splayed out as your cunt bulged around his length.

"Such a pretty pussy. Taking me so well," he cooed and you screamed your release, your eyes rolling back into your head as wave after wave of pleasure wracked your body. Your nails left angry marks on his pecs, which he'd admire later. Currently, he was admiring the filthy white ring created around his cock because of your orgasms.

"My girl looks so perfect when she- fuckfuckfuck!- when she cums..."

He bit on the juncture of your neck as his warm cum fills you up as this time he shook, almost collapsing on top of you. He slowly set his weight down upon you, burying his face in your neck as you both came down from your highs.

You ran your hands through his pretty white hair, causing him to purr, the sound traveling through your bones when he pressed his lips to your pulse point. You also felt him get hard while still inside you, as you continued doing it.

After a few minutes, he lifted his head to look at you, his eyes carrying the same, if not more heat.

He brushed away the stray hair sticking to your forehead, giving you a wolfish grin.

"Round three?"

☆ GETO SUGURU: netflix? nah, just chill.

"Suguruuuuuuu," you moaned, your back tired of keeping that perfect arch.

"Hush, now, baby," he said, landing a rough hand on your backside, admiring the hand print he left. "Patience."

Your loud whines echoed in the room, shadowing the music and dialogues of your favourite show on Netflix that was going on.

You'd told him explicitly that you'd watch the episodes this time. No distractions. No prying hands. But Suguru had never been able to help himself when it came to you.

"We're supposed to be- oh goddd- watching the show, Suguru," you choked out between moans.

"You think I'll be able to focus on that shit with you looking like this?" He breathed out, a hand running up your side, not even bothering to take off your, no, his shirt. Your panties were already halfway down and you knew he wasn't going to take it off fully.

He was in the mood for some nastiness.

"You wear my shirt and some skimpy panties, and expect me to focus on something else, baby?"

As a hand cupped one of your breasts, the other held his cock at your pretty hole, thrusting home easily in one swift stroke, thanks to his teasing that had started fifteen minutes into the new episode.

"Don't- ngh- put this on me, Suguru," you choked out, as he starts grinding into you, testing the waters.

"No?" he said, folding himself over you, his bare chest pressing against your half-naked back, his other hand creeping up your side to cup your other breast. He toyed with your nipples, tweaking the hard peaks and pressing on your sweet spot just right to make you go blank for a few seconds.

"It's hard for me to do anything else when you're there, anyway, baby," he cooed into your ear. "You can be wearing a gown or a bikini, I'm distracted either way."

You let out a long drawn-out moan as he stood up, fisting your shirt in one hand as the other lodged itself on your hip. He started snapping his hips against your ass, admiring the jiggle of your skin.

You bit your lip as he hit the right spots at every thrust, your fingers curling around the edge of the couch, as he pulled you back to meet every one of his thrusts. The wet thwack! thwack! thwack! of his delicious jabs rendered you speechless and thoughtless, as your mind started turning into mush.

"What's this?" Suguru asked as he leaned back down to kiss the back of your neck. "You already going dumb, baby?"

His lips kissed their way up to your shoulder before he hooked his chin onto it. "We're just getting started, honey."

The words made you let out a high-pitched whimper and in response, his hand crept up to your head, wrapping his fingers in your hair and pulling it back, his hips not stopping their onslaught.

Using your hair and hips as leverage, he made you thrust against him making you let out downright pornographic noises. You could feel the smug smirk as he stared at you. The shine on her body because of sweat made him salivate as he wondered how he got you, a goddess of a woman to give him her heart and trust him with it.

"Pretty little thing," he murmured, his voice almost lost due to the noise in the room. "All mine, hm?"

His lips curled up to a smile as you nodded rapidly, a hand of yours going behind to clutch his wrist.

"Say it while we finish, will you, sweetheart?" he ordered breathily, throwing his head back as his abdomen clenched, all while your pleasure mounted more and more. "I want to hear those words from your sweet mouth."

"I'm yours," you said, your head falling forward as your eyes rolled back into your head. You repeated the words throughout his thrusts, which got sloppier and harsher and screaming it when your ass stuck to his abs, his hand tight around your hip as you both came.

He choked on his breath, almost falling on you at feeling the tight hold of your wet, gooey walls on his cock as he spurted his seed into you. He drove his fist into the velvet of the couch, seeing white in front of his eyes as he moaned out loud with you.

When he finally came back to his senses, finding you panting softly, he pulled his semi-hard cock out of you, softly turning you over, and hooking an arm under her knees and the other under your back, paying no mind to your panties which fell to the ground.

"And I'm yours," he murmured into your forehead, pressing a small kiss to the soft skin. "I love you, sweetheart."

"I love you too, Suguru," you whispered back, remembering it because you knew that the way he'll fuck you will be anything but loving.

TOJI FUSHIGURO: game night luck

"Stay fucking still, will ya?" Toji growled into your ear as his fingers twitched on the buttons of his controller.

You couldn't help but squirm as his cock sat inside of you, throbbing in time to your clenching cunt. You whined, bouncing yourself up and down a bit.

He smacked a hand down on your thigh, glaring at your needy, trembling form. "You interrupt me again and I'll have to punish you, doll."

You tried your best to stay still. After all, you were the reason for this situation. You'd begged and teased your boyfriend so much, he'd made you sit on his cock, ordering you to stay still till he finished his game.

You'd always thought cockwarming would be an easy task. That if you did it with Toji, he would ultimately be the one to give in first, to fuck you hard and fast like the beast he was.

But, here you were, impatient as you buried your face in his neck, resisting the urge to lick at his pulse point.

He bounced his thigh a bit as he got to the end of the game, making you gasp. You bit your lip against a whine, only nosing at his pulse point, which made his cock twitch inside her.

"Yes! Fuck, yes!" He yelled as his game ended on a good note, raising his arms above his head in a cheer, before he leaned back, hands going behind his head as he smirked at you.

"Alright, pretty," he said, his voice coming out in a pleased rumble. "Ride me."

You immediately started bouncing on top of him, feeling him hit your sweet spot. But it wasn't enough as you set your hands on his shoulders and moved faster, but it wasn't as overwhelming as it usually was as you looked at him with a pout and whined.

Toji mimicked your whine, not moving to do anything. "What?"

"Wan' more," you slurred, leaning into him as you moved, tempting him with your bouncing tits.

He hummed thoughtfully, a hand cupping one of your breasts and squeezing, playing with the flesh.

"You gotta be more specific, doll," he said, both hands now playing with your tits, alternating between pinching your nipples and groping them.

You decide you've had enough. Leaning forward, you give him an open-mouthed kiss.

"Fuck me," you whispered against his lips, making sure to squeeze around his thick, throbbing cock.

He grunted, his hips thursting upwards involuntarily, before he smirked.

"That's my girl," he rasped, getting into a comfortable position before settling both hands on your hips, lifting you up and pulling you down roughly.

He set a fast pace, slamming you down on his throbbing dick, making you scream and squeal with every thrust.

"Such a good little girl," he said with a groan, fucking, no, using you, like you were nothing more than a toy that he used to masturbate with. "Warming my cock like a good little slut should. This little pussy is just made for my cock, isn't it? Just made to be fucked again and again."

You cried out at the filth spewing out of his mouth, nails digging into his shoulders as his lips wetly kissed up your neck. His hands went south, cupping your ass to pull you up and drop you down on his cock. His teeth digged into your skin as you threw your head back, body feeling like jelly as he manipulated it to his will.

Your spongey walls started pulsing and he smirked, grinding you onto him, a hand slapping your breast. "Hold it."

Your eyes snapped open as you looked at him, pleading and whining as he slapped your breast again.

He hummed in response, delayig his orgasm as well. He pressed his palm at the small of your back, pinching a nipple at the same time he whispered, "Cum for me. Now."

Both their orgasms were unleashed together, Toji holding you still as he pounded his warm cum into you, prolonging your orgasm as much as possible.

"Seems like you're my good luck charm, doll" he said gruffly, a hand curling around your nape to pull you into a sloppy kiss.

"We're going to have to do this every week."

RYOMEN SUKUNA: unexpected discoveries

One thing about fucking Sukuna was that he strictly abided by three-to-one rule, even though it was more like five-to-one or more with him, thanks to his stamina and the fact that he lost his goddamn mind over you.

For example, currently, he had just made your legs shake with his tongue and lips, licking and sucking your clit. It was the fourth orgasm of the night, and you knew that finally, you'd be getting to feel his girthy cock inside your wet, dripping folds. He'd had you on your hands and knees for so long, your back was starting to ache.

So, when he pulled your knees back for you to fall flat on your stomach, you were thankful. His hand came down on your ass before kneading it, staring at your docile form with a smile. He admired the filtered rays of sunlight that made your body sparkle, before lifting your hips up just a bit and positioning his cock behind you.

"You ready for me, brat?" he asked, his gravely voice sending shivers up your spine. He grinned, not even waiting for an answer, slapping his veiny member against your pussy once before thrusting into you all at once, leaving you to bury your scream into the pillow.

His eyebrows furrowed as he ground his tip into that one mushy spot that had already been abused by his fingers earlier that night. Then, he lied down on top of you, every inch of his taut muscles touching your soft skin.

His hand curled around your neck, bringing your face up as your hands tightly curled into pillows.

"Did I tell you to hide your noises, pet?" he growled into your ear as he started thrusting into you, pulling just a few inches out and and pushing it back in so fast, your already thoughtless mind was going even more dumb. "Y'know I need to hear you, don't you?"

Your moans turned into screams as his rapid thrusts sent you into a haze of pleasure. "That's my girl, screaming out like a bitch in heat, hm? Keep making those noises, let everyone know who's making you feel so good."

Even though your moist insides were giving him the pleasure he needed, he found the position to be a bit uncomfortable. He absentmindedly wrapped his arm around your neck, pressing on the sides of your neck before a little sense invaded and his hips paused.

"Shit, darling, you alri-" he cut off on an involuntary moan as your walls pulsated and tightened around his cock.

He turned his head to blink at you in surprise, looking at your cheeks tinted with red. "Did you... like that, pet?"

You bit your lip, too embarrased to say anything when he tightened the hold on your neck, making your pussy throb again. "I asked you something."

"Yes," you breathed out. You felt the big puff of exasperation that Sukuna let out before he ordered, "Speak up."

"Yes," you affirmed. His eyes immediately had the excitement of a kid in a candy store.

"My little brat loves being choked," he mused

He started thrusting his hips again, setting the same rapid pace, except this time, he was choking you in a headlock.

"You've probably been wanting me to do this to you, haven't you?" he murmured right by your ear, making you choke out a whimper as your belly coiled up, that familiar feeling coming back. "Filthy little slut just wanting to be choked while she's being fucked dumb."

"You should've told me, pet," he scolded, his other hand curling around the side of your waist. "Y'know I'm a filthy asshole, so why hide it from me?"

That made you cry out, one final squeeze of his arms around your throat making you see white as your mouth opened up in a silent whine, his thrusts getting deeper and sloppier as he came with you.

Your legs were shaking by the time his orgasm passed, as he manhandled you onto your back, pushing your legs back till your knees touched your breasts, and sliding his cock against your slit.

"Now," he announced, his firm, curious tone, getting the attention of your tired mind. "You're going to tell me everything that you've been wanting me to do to you."

There was an evil glint in his eyes at the next words that were uttered out if his mouth.

"And I'm going to do it all to you."

KENTO NANAMI: famous last words

"That's my girl," Nanami purred, a hand sliding down to press the bulge that his cock had created in your stomach.

You couldn't help but throw your head back with a cry, using his shoulder as a support. Your husband had you both kneeling on the bed with your back to his chest, as both, a reward and a punishment.

One hour and fifty seven minutes prior, you'd sent a risky text to him, not knowing that he was in a meeting. He'd almost abandoned the important business deal and driven home to you, to fuck your brains out, but had managed to control himself till he'd gotten home, eager to see you keep your promise.

He'd spent his time wisely, teasing and edging you with his hands and mouth, punishing you for causing the distraction, even though it was unintentional.

The bastard just loved to rile you up.

"Now," he said, his hand sliding down south, his middle finger ghosting over your clit. " What was it that you had said?"

You gulped audibly, pussy clenching in both fear and anticipation. It made him hitch his hips upward with a grunt, his hand slapping your clit in retaliation.

"Tell me, love. What do you want me to do?" He asked, rubbing lazy circles on your inner thighs with his thumb. " Or would you rather just be like this?"

That made your breath hitch, grinding on his cock as you said, "I want you to fuck me dumb."

The statement made him smile victoriously. "Whatever my wife wants."

You cried out when he started pistoning into you, his thighs hitting your ass. The position you were in gave him easy access to your deepest spots, his. lengthty cock hitting them at every thrust.

Nanami was sure he was in heaven. Your wet pussy was wrapped tightly around his cock and your beautiful, almost melodic noises were right by his ear.

"Such a good girl for me," he murmured into ear, his free hand wrapping loosely around your throat, a finger pressing on your pulse point. "Taking whatever I give like a good wife should, hm? Sending me those filthy words while I'm working hard so that I can get home and have you keep your promise."

You, however, were not able to think of anything as your husband gave you exactly what you asked.

His hand slid up to cup your chin, before plunging two fingers into your mouth. Your eyes were on the ceiling, lost in the haze of pleasure, and he smiled as your tongue coated the digits in saliva.

"Filthy slut," he whispered, making you whine as his thrusts got sharper. The pads of his fingers pressed on the back of your tongue, causing your eyes to roll back into your head, leaving only the feeling of him everywhere.

He took his fingers out to glide them down to play with your pebbled nipples, tracing your areola before flicking your nipple, his lips sucking a hickey into the skin on the juncture of your neck.

Feeling utterly overstimulated, you tried to run away, making him wrap the arm around your waist, just to start pounding into you harder, pulling his cock out almost his whole length out before pressing all of it back home. Two fingers started to draw small, fast circles on your clit, making the tension coiling in your lower belly even tighter as your noises got louder.

"Cum for me, my love," he said, his tender voice a contrast to his actions, slapping your clit again to make you scream as he finally let you cum, pussy gushing around his cock.

He hissed at your the grip, his thrusts got hastier and messier as he groaned roughly, your shorts of his cum filling you up.

He fell on top of you, making you moan out as you felt some of his cum trickle it even as he was inside you. He buried his face in your neck, pressing featherlight kisses as he got fully hard again.

A deep, sudden thrust made you squeal in surprise, his mouth near your ear again.

"I'm not done yet, love."

Likes, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated ❤️

[reiyaus]

imagine construction worker! toji being in the crew who’s helping you build your dream home.

visiting every week to almost everyday because it was your only way to see him, the thought of just asking him out never came to mind. you weren’t exactly as slick as you thought, however.

it’s when you only approached him everytime you had a question did he realize you had a thing for him. not that he minded, though. he liked how flustered you’d get when he’d flex his biceps or when he’d grunt extra loud if he sensed you getting near.

the way you took so much time to prepare talking to him was cute too. how your throat bobbed up and down before clearing your voice; gently poking his arm (intentionally) before muttering his name.

toji would pretend not to hear at first, and ask you to repeat until you were practically yelling- only because he liked the sound of his name with your voice.

if honest, he didn’t actually know the answers to half of your questions. like how you didn’t know what the stuff you were asking him about meant anyways. for both of you, it was just an excuse to hear each other’s voices a little longer, and to see each other before your house gets complete.

it’s so obvious to his boss and co-workers that you’re absolutely smitted, like he is with you. it frustrates them when the building process fails to meet the deadline, having to work overtime because of a little work romance.

it doesn’t bother you though. there was nothing wrong with staying at your grandma’s a little longer. and he had no problem ditching his friends to have lunch with you.

yet, when the house does get finished, you felt a sense of loneliness, failing to remember that you can still contact each other outside of work. he becomes gloomy too, but watching you walk around and surveil the interior made him proud to have taken part in making your life better.

you’re about to thank all of them when he pulls you aside and brings out a little flip phone, almost like a bread crumb in his hands. his lockscreen was a low-quality photo (fitting to his ‘old-man’ persona) but 3 figures were you able to make out: two furry friends and one young boy in between.

it takes you some time to realize that the picture isn’t him as a young boy, but rather this child. you glance at him, his face practically sweating bullets and a shaky grin on his lips.

“this probably isn’t the best time to say this but, do you want to go on a date… someday? an actual one this time- i mean. i’ll introduce you to my son, and hopefully we can take things further now.”

[greengoblinswifey]

Routine—Dr. Charlie Mayhew x Fem!Reader

summary— Dr. Mayhew invites you after hours for a ‘routine check up.’ Based on this request.

warnings— slight cnc, abuse of power, anal fingering, face fucking, praise kink, degradation, face slapping, tit slapping, choking, objectification, hair pulling, sir kink, spitting, anal, unprotected sex, ass to mouth, breeding kink, creampie.

a/n— i feel like i’ve been gone so long but i’m back now <3(though it’s lowkey hard to write with long nails)

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

It was late, the air unusually quiet except for the low hum of fluorescent lights. You weren’t sure why you’d agreed to come back after hours for your follow up. Dr. Mayhew’s cryptic suggestion earlier in the day had been impossible to shake: “Come back tonight when it’s quiet. We’ll have the place to ourselves.”

Something in his tone had made your pulse quicken, his usual professional demeanor cracking just enough to reveal something darker. You told yourself it was all in your head, but now, standing in the dimly lit exam room, you couldn’t ignore the tension crackling between you.

Dr. Mayhew entered, his white coat unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms. His dark eyes raked over you, lingering just a moment too long. “Still here, I see,” he said, closing the door behind him with a deliberate click. “Good girl.”

The session started—a few questions, a brief examination. But as his hands lingered, brushing against your skin under the guise of professionalism, the air grew heavy with something unspoken. He leaned in close, his voice low, almost a growl. “You’ve been testing my patience all day.”

Dr. Mayhew adjusted his gloves, his gaze piercing but tinged with something else, something darker. His lips curved into a slight smirk as he approached you, tilting his head. “I need to perform a full examination,” he murmured, his tone smooth but commanding. “Let’s start with your chest.”

You hesitated, but the intensity in his stare rooted you to the spot. His hands moved deliberately, sliding over your shoulders before trailing down to rest just below your collarbone. “Relax,” he said, voice low and firm. “This is all part of the process.”

He cupped your boobs, the touch firm under the guise of a medical examination. His fingers lingered, pressing in ways that made you swallow hard. “You’re tense,” he muttered, almost to himself, his thumbs brushing suggestively. “Maybe I should take my time here.”

Your breath hitched, but his movements never faltered. “Don’t act so shy now,” he said, leaning in so his breath ghosted over your ear. “You knew exactly what you were coming back for.”

He firmly massaged your boobs, his gaze sharp as he did. He directed you to turn around, his voice clipped and commanding. “Bend over the table,” he said, gesturing to the edge of the examination bed.

You hesitated, unsure of his intentions. “W-why are you doing this?” you asked, trying to steady your breath.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he rested a firm hand at the base of your spine, encouraging compliance. His other hand moved with practiced authority, adjusting your position so that you could arch better. “I’m the doctor here,” he said, his voice a low rasp. “And I know what’s best for you. Trust me.”

Your heart raced as he began his inspection, his hands firm and meticulous as he groped your ass. He tugged lightly on your hair, tilting your head to the side. “Keep still,” he instructed, the subtle pull sending a shock of awareness through you. “I need you to behave.”

A gasp left your lips as he tore the shorts under your tights, the cool air making your bare pussy quiver.

“D-doctor—” you groaned, but he cut you off sharply.

“Don’t speak, this is routine. I need to make sure everything is fine with every part of you,” he growled.

Another gasp left your lips as you felt the unmistakable feeling of a finger circling the hole no one had ever been in. The hole no one should be in—yet the pure taboo of it had you biting your lip and arching your back deeper.

“No hemorrhoids, virgin ass, so fucking beautiful,” he muttered, his voice low.

You bit down on your lip harder, groaning as you felt a finger push inside you.

“Shh, just let me do this,” he cooed.

Your doctor knew best, didn’t he? Though, alarm bells were ringing in your head.

You clamped around his finger and he let it settle, curving and slowly moving it around so he could wiggle his way inside you.

“Such a tight virgin ass,” he murmured.

Just as you were starting to feel pleasure, he removed his finger. You let out a sigh of relief but your breath caught again as you heard the sound of a belt buckle clinking. Turning around, his pants were pooled at his feet with the thickest cock you had ever seen.

You were about to say something when he grabbed your curls, turning your body around.

“Need to make sure that throat is able to be used for what it’s made for,” he murmured.

He shoved his swollen cock into your mouth before you could even think about what to do. It immediately hit the back of your throat and he kept it settled until you were gasping for air before he pulled out.

You gasped as you tried to get air but he began pushing your face into his crotch leaving you no choice but to accept his length back into your mouth.

“Learn how to suck cock like you were made for you dumb slut, take it all the way in!” he growled, tightening his grip in your curls and thrusting harshly as he proceeded to fuck your mouth even more vigorously than before.

A sick and twisted part of you just wanted to show him how good you were at this. So, your tongue darted out, trailing along his shaft and getting it sloppy.

“Fuck, that’s it, slut,” he moaned.

You hummed around his cock and continued, gliding your tongue along him as he fucked your throat. Your hands went to his heavy balls, massaging as you looked up at him with tears in your eyes, trying your best not to gag.

“You’re such a good cock sucking whore, m’ gonna cum down that throat,” he gasped, his pace faltering but still just as brutal.

Suckling on the bulbous tip, you stroked his shaft and felt his cum spurt into your mouth. He thrusted into your throat again, holding you down as he came down your throat, your nose touching his pelvis.

“That’s a good whore, don’t let a drop go to waste,” he cooed.

Once again, not missing a beat, he grabbed you by your curls, shoving you flat onto the table. “Now, I’m gonna put my cock inside that pussy, just because I can,” he whispered, “and you’re going to take every single inch like the good little whore you are.”

You didn’t bother protesting, you knew your protests would fall on deaf ears and so, you allowed him to spread your legs.

“You’re so wet, your pussy’s working just fine,” he smirked, using the head of his cock to drag along your folds.

You whined shamelessly, the throbbing in your clit growing unbearable.

“No whines, only begging, and call me sir while you’re at it,” he demanded.

Something came over you—or at least that’s what you wanted to believe.

“Please sir, just put it in, please fuck me,” you pleaded, your pussy getting wetter as you uttered each word.

A sharp smack against your cheek made you whine again. “You can do better than that, slut.”

“Please fuck me sir, I need your cock, I’ve never needed anything more, just please fuck me, fuck me like a slut,” you begged.

Satisfied by your begging, he grabbed you by the throat, thrusting inside your wet pussy giving you no time to adjust.

“So tight, like your pussy was made for my cock,” he murmured.

His grip around your throat tightened as he slammed into you, hard, your tits bouncing. His other hand came down on your tits, slapping them before a sharp smack was placed on your cheek, making you moan.

“Oh, you like that? You like being treated like just an object for me to use? Good, because that’s all you are to me,” Dr. Mayhew said.

Your pussy fluttered at his words, his cock pounding against your g spot repeatedly and you could feel a strong orgasm building. He leaned down, using his free hand to force your jaw open before spitting into it.

“Swallow, and soon as you do, cum on my cock, slut,” he muttered.

You swallowed his spit on your tongue and drenched him, your back arching off the table as your orgasm took ahold of you. As you squirted on his cock, your entire body shivered, his cock pounding your pussy through your orgasm.

“That’s it, what a good slut, this is all you’re good for, being an object for me to use,” he said, “now get on your hands and knees and spread that ass.”

By then you had accepted your fate, being nothing more than just a fuck toy for Dr. Mayhew. Why else would you have come back so late? You complied, arching your back as you did and spreading your ass to him.

He felt slick fingers rubbing your pussy then trailing back to your hole. A gasp left your lips as you felt two fingers plunge into you, the burning stretch leaving you aching.

“You’re going to wish it was my fingers fucking that ass,” he chuckled.

You realized what he meant, feeling the leaking tip of his cock bore into you. Still, you kept your ass spread open for him, allowing him to push deeper inside you.

“Fucking hell, so tight for me,” he groaned, finally able to fit half of his length inside.

He grabbed your hands, pinning them behind you and holding on as he fucked your ass. His thrusts were steady and deep, invading a hole that had never been used before.

“S-slow down,” you pleaded.

“You don’t tell me what to do, bitch, I do what I want to you and you take it like a good fucking slut who’s nothing more than an object for me to use. Objects shut the fuck up,” he retorted.

A sob left your lips but your body betrayed you as your ass clamped around his cock and your pussy clenched around nothing at his filthy words.

He took the opportunity to let go of your hands, reaching to rub your clit as he felt the impending orgasm.

“Stop acting like you aren’t enjoying this and fucking cum for me,” he said, “cum with my cock in your ass.”

He rubbed rough circles on your clit, his cock slamming inside your hole and you felt yourself squirt on his fingers, your body once again betraying you.

“Good girl, that’s what objects do, they listen.”

He pulled his thick cock out of your ass leaving you agape before grabbing your by your curls to face it.

“Clean my cock so I can fuck that pussy again,” he demanded.

Staring up at him, you took him into your mouth, sucking and slurping until every part of him was covered in your saliva. When he was satisfied with your work, he pulled you off him, a trail of spit connecting you with the tip.

“So beautiful when you’re ruined like this,” you heard him mutter.

He pushed you onto your back, his cock plunging into you as he chased his own orgasm.

“Look at me bitch, I want you to look at me when I cum inside this pussy and breed you.”

You stared into his brown eyes, his cock slamming against your cervix before you felt his hot load fill you up. He moaned as you clenched around him, practically milking him of all he had.

“Good girl, take my cum,” he praised.

As soon as he was satisfied, he pulled out of you, his cum slowly oozing from your pussy. He took a few wipes from a cabinet, carefully cleaning you up before his eyes met yours.

“Same time, tomorrow.”

[maskedbyghost]

i love fics where simon is obsessed with the reader, but the ones where reader is the stalker? chef's kiss. so let me set the scene for you babes:

when you first saw him, it felt like the world stopped for a moment—like every boring day you spent trudging through the monotony of life suddenly made sense. simon riley was something else, larger than life, and somehow more magnetic than anyone had the right to be. you knew you’d never be the same the moment you locked eyes with him in the briefing room that first day.

your transfer to the task force was fate. it had to be. how else could you explain the perfect alignment of events that led you to him? captain price barely got through his introductions before you’d cataloged every scar visible above simon’s mask, taken mental notes of his broad frame, and wondered just how his voice might sound murmuring your name in the dark.

you found yourself naturally gravitating to him—the way a moth is drawn to a flame. and maybe you flew a little too close too fast, but you didn’t care. when he stood silent in the corner, your feet took you to him. during training drills, your gaze zeroed in on his every movement, memorizing his efficiency and strength. at the mess hall? you were never more than a table away. oh, and when some other soldier—jessica—got a little too cozy with him? well, let’s just say the entire task force knew that no one casually chatted up ghost without your looming presence in the vicinity. you might’ve accidentally spilled your coffee all over jessica’s lap the day she dared to pat his arm. oops.

at first, simon didn’t say much about it. not when you conveniently bumped into him outside the barracks after every mission, nor when you “forgot” your hoodie in his locker room, just to see if he’d notice. his quiet smirk here and there was the only tell—almost like he knew exactly what you were doing and found it charming.

but when he finally cornered you one night in the base’s dimly lit halls, his voice low as he pinned you with that gaze, your heart all but exploded in your chest.

“why’d you scare off half the team today?” your mouth opened, words forming in your head but caught on the tip of your tongue. was he angry? maybe you’d gone too far—but then simon leaned in closer, crowding your space. the warmth of his breath against your ear made you freeze.

“not complaining,” he murmured, “just wondering how long you’re gonna make me wait before you make it obvious.”

your lips parted to question him, but his fingers gently trailed up your arm, anchoring your spinning mind to him.

“i see you,” he continued. “you don’t think i notice how you follow me around like some little shadow? hmm?” he didn’t sound annoyed—far from it, actually. there was something downright pleased about his words.

the realization nearly took your breath away. he liked it. he wanted you close.

“no one else gets to,” you blurted out, owning that possessiveness with every fiber of your being. “not them, not anyone. only me.”

you braced for a reprimand, but instead, simon’s mask shifted just enough for you to catch the tiniest upward curl of his lips. a smile. genuine, real, and meant only for you.

“good.” his voice rumbled with approval, sending a warm shiver down your spine. “you’re the only one i want close, anyway.”

and from that night on, every time your possessiveness made itself known—an icy glare at another woman, an intentional interruption of a conversation he didn’t want to have—simon only smiled.

you might’ve been obsessed, but the truth was simple: so was he. and everyone else? they didn’t matter. you were his, just as much as he was yours.

exactly as it should be.

--------------------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah

[scarletemeterio]

Hello! Can I ask for ekko with an reader who confessed to him thrice (and thrice rejected) and then he finally falls hard for them? With a happy ending, thank you!

(kind of like she fell first he fell harder trope)

Let Me Love You (Ekko x Reader)

Warnings: some cursing Genre: angst, hurt/comfort Word count: 2.3k Reader has no set pronouns!

The first time was the hardest of them all. You’d muster up the courage to confess your feelings for him, knowing very well that it could go south.

“I have something to tell you,” you uttered. He gave you a worried look, noticing that there was a hint of desperation in your voice. You were in his so-called office, working on something that didn’t really matter anymore.

“Is everything okay?” He simply asked.

“I’m not sure,” you began, “but I really need to say this.” He gave you his full attention, making you feel a bit intimidated by him and extremely self-conscious. “I’m in love with you,” you blurted out.

Silence quickly filled the room, and the tension could easily be cut by a knife. The moment you saw his face, you knew it: he didn’t feel the same way.

“I, uh, I don’t know what to say,” he mumbled more to himself than to you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make things awkward at all. You can just forget I said anything.”

“I really don’t want to hurt you but I just don’t feel the same way.” You were trying to hold back your tears as his words left his mouth. “You’re an amazing person and anyone would be lucky to be with you, but that person isn’t me.”

You simply looked at him and slowly nodded. “It’s okay, you can’t force yourself to feel something you don’t.” It was hard to speak at this point. He knew you were hurt, but you’d never show it; it would just make things harder for the both of you. “Is this gonna change things between us?”

“I would hate that, honestly.” You nodded again, finally being on the same page about something. He came closer and put a reassuring hand on your shoulder to try and alleviate the tension. If only it were that easy.

•••

Some time passed and you still tried to hide your feelings for him. For a while, it worked, you’d suppressed them every time you spent time with the boy but deep down, you missed the way you were before. It had always been hard for you to open up to people, but you’d never been this miserable before. You were just a shadow of your usual self, and it was evident to everyone in the base.

Ekko himself tried to talk to you about it, clearly oblivious to the fact that he was the reason for your attitude. Finally, after a particularly hard day for you, you just lost it.

“You wanna know what’s wrong with me, Ekko? It’s you!” You truly didn’t mean to scream at him but you also couldn’t help it. Lately, you lived on edge, always frustrated about something; it was like you were a bomb simply waiting to explode. “I swear I tried to play dumb, to ignore everything but I just can’t.”

“Is this about-?”

“Yes, Ekko, of course it is.” You interrupted him. “I know you went on with your life and pretended I never said anything so we could go back to the way things were, but it’s not that easy for me. Nothing about this has been easy.”

“I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Bullshit,” you spat. “You know exactly how I feel about you. We’ve known each other for years, you can’t tell me you never realized why I’ve been acting so strange.”

There was a pause between you. You were agitated, heart beating so fast that you could feel it in your throat. “I guess I wanted to pretend nothing ever happened,” he confessed after some time. “Acknowledging it made it real and I just- I just want my friend back, without any messiness and complications between us.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Ekko. I’m sorry my feelings are such an inconvenience to you. Trust me, I wish I could change them and forget about you for good but I just can’t.”

Something twitched inside of him when you said that and he looked at you with hurt eyes. “You really mean that? That you’d like to forget me?”

“I meant forgetting about my feelings for you, ‘cause you’re not making things easy for me,” you explained. “When you come over and put your arm around me or stand so close to me that I can feel you breathing it kills me, Ekko. And the worst part is that you know it.” You took a deep breath, anger slowly leaving you, feeling nothing but sadness. “Sometimes I feel like you enjoy testing me like that because you know that no matter what I’ll always come back to you. But I’m tired of this dance between us, it’s too much.”

“I just don’t know how to feel! This is hard for me too!” Neither of you cared if someone heard you at this point, you’d simply have to put up with the weird looks from everyone. “I don’t know what you want me to do and I’m confused.”

“Honestly,” you began, “I want you to give me some space.”

“Wait, I- uh, I don’t want that, please,” he took a step closer to you, trying to grab ahold of your hand but you avoided his touch, as you avoided his sad eyes.

“Do you have feelings for me, Ekko?”

“I said I’m confused.”

“It’s a simple question, do you?”

You finally looked at him and he realized that you were crying. He could count with one hand the number of times he’d seen you cry, and he never thought he’d be the reason why. “I don’t know,” he finally whispered.

“Then I don’t have anything else to say. I don’t want to wait for you to figure out how you feel and keep getting hurt in the process, I don’t think I deserve it.”

“Wait, please-.”

“Ekko,” you cut him, “I need some space, don’t make this even harder, please.” And with that, you left, leaving him even more confused than before, and with a pain in his chest he couldn’t really explain.

You should’ve known this was coming. Still, it hurt like the first time. You couldn’t blame him; if anything, you were glad he was honest with you. But after today, you realized that you needed to keep some distance from him, or this would end up destroying you for good.

•••

Days quickly turned into weeks, and you realized you hadn’t said a word to the Firelight’s leader in almost a month. Your heart still flipped inside whenever you inevitably ran into him or locked eyes with him within the first few days since the fight, and soon you started avoiding him all along.

In no time, the boy started feeling an emptiness inside him, something he couldn’t explain. He was truthful with you in that last conversation, he truly wasn’t sure how he felt, but with every passing day that you were nowhere to be seen, he realized that maybe he’d been a complete fool.

He missed you, there was no denying that. Now the question was if his feelings for you were simply platonic or if deep down he yearned for you, maybe even more than you for him. Ekko wasn’t the best with his emotions, not because he actively repressed them, but because all of this was extremely new to him, and he just felt so overwhelmed. However, there was one thing he was extremely sure of: he wanted you in his life.

It had been days since he last saw you, evident now that you’d been avoiding him for a while, so when he finally caught a glimpse of you around the base, it was like seeing an angel. Soon, his pleasant feelings were replaced by envy. You were talking with one of the new members from the Firelights, nothing out of the ordinary, but there was nothing he wanted more than to be the one you had your attention on. He didn’t recognize himself, filled with jealousy and bitterness.

The boy was pulled out of his thoughts when someone asked him a question, engaging in conversation with him, but that strange sensation still clung to him like glue. He hated himself and blamed his stupid ass for being such an idiot, these were merely the consequences of his own actions.

When he was lying in bed that night trying to fall asleep, you were the only thing on his mind. Your smile that shined like the stars, your lips that he so wanted to feel against his own while your arms wrapped around his body. He wanted to bang his head against the wall, he was such an idiot. If only he’d realized this before then maybe now you wouldn’t hate him. It all seemed so obvious to him now. You were there for him, by his side from the very beginning. He could always count on and lean on you, he trusted you even more than he trusted himself. Oftentimes he’d become mesmerized by how pretty you looked when you spent time together, the sun hitting your face in just the perfect way or your hair effortlessly framing your face in such a flawless way. Of course, he thought nothing of all this at the time, brushing it off as objective thinking. But now, it suddenly hit him, everything was different now because he wasn’t unsure anymore, he knew exactly how he felt about you. He loved you.

He sat on his bed, passing his hands through his face in an attempt to clear his mind. He wanted- no, needed to talk to you. Maybe you didn’t even feel the same way anymore, but he had to get it off his chest, he had to at least try. But right now, he also had to calm his nerves because if he didn’t, he’d go and knock on your door this very moment, and he was certain you didn’t wanna see him at all. So instead, he got up and went to take a walk, thinking it would be nice to sit by the tree to help him organize his thoughts. What he wasn’t expecting was seeing you there.

As soon as you saw his figure making its way to you, you got up, ready to leave but were interrupted by his voice. “Wait, please, don’t go.” You knew you should pay him no attention and leave anyway, but it had been so long since you’d last heard his voice that you were taken aback for a moment, standing in place. “Can we talk?” His voice was soft, nothing compared to what it was in your last conversation together; you could even hear a hint of desperation, which was what ultimately made you turn around and stay.

“What do you want, Ekko?” As soon as he heard you he let out a small smile, confirming that yours was the voice he wanted to hear every day when he woke up and every night before going to sleep.

He motioned for you to sit down again, doing the same right after you. “I’m sorry for everything,” he began saying, “I never meant for things to end up like this between us.” His chest accompanied his breathing, moving just a little too fast, earning him a concerned look from you. “I know that you probably hate me now, I know I would if I were you, and you’ll probably hate me even more after what I have to say since I acted like a complete idiot and took so long to figure out something that was right in front of me this whole time but I- uh, I do have feelings for you. Lots of feelings actually, I’m in love with you.”

You snapped your neck to look at him, trying to read his expression in search of a playful tone, but it wasn’t there. He was serious, he was finally saying what you wanted to hear for so long now. So long that you couldn’t fully believe him.

“Ekko, I don’t want any games, please.”

“I’m being serious. These weeks without you have been absolute torture, I can’t do this without you, I need you.” He rubbed his face, stopping at the bridge of his nose to pinch it. When he looked back at you, he had tears forming in his eyes, a sight you hadn’t seen in a very long time. “I’m being honest. I’m so sorry it took me so long to finally realize it. I made it my personal vow to always protect you and keep you safe and I’m the one that caused you pain and for that, I’m so sorry.”

You didn’t really know what to say, nothing seemed good enough. Your mind was racing and quickly you were lost in your thoughts and were brought back to reality by the sound of Ekko getting up, ready to leave. “These last weeks have been hell for me, too.” Your eyes met his and you stoop up, getting closer to him. “I don’t hate you, Ekko. I could never hate you.”

“But you don’t love me anymore?”

“I didn’t say that, I’m just a bit taken aback that’s all.” He got closer to you, trying to grab your hand and this time, you let him do it. He brought it to his face and planted a kiss on it, never breaking eye contact with you.

“I’m so in love with you that just thinking about spending a second away from you makes me suffer. I don’t want to feel that way anymore, I want to be with you, share my life with you, and love you every day.” One of his hands went to cup your face and you leaned against it. “Please let me love you.”

You looked at his lips and then back at his eyes, and in just a second the air was knocked out of your lungs when you felt his lips against yours. The kiss was sweet but desperate and filled with emotions. “Please let me love you, too,” you said when you separated.

“Nothing would make me happier.”

hey! i loved this request, i'm a sucker for angst :)

i changed it just a little bit but i still hope you like it anon, thanks for requesting! really enjoyed writing this one and i LOVE writing for ekko

[starkeynation]

I love you, I’m sorry

A letter from reader to Rafe

Content: Angst, like PURE sad, the lamp looks weird, based on the song I love you, I’m sorry by Gracie Abrams (may or may not be accurate)

A/N: about that cliffhanger and happy ending, I changed my mind… also ignore any writing mistakes if there’s any and this was kinda rushed so I hope it still turns out good

Masterlist

dividers from @anitalenia

Rafe,

It is Saturday night. I should be out doing something, partying or whatever to enjoy myself, yet here i am, pen in hand, finding myself writing to you again. I know this letter will never reach you- it’ll end up crumpled at the bottom of my drawer or burned to ashes. Still, I can’t seem to stop myself.

It has been exactly two august ago since everything fell apart. I remember the way I laid it all out, raw, I wanted to be real, hoping that honesty would mend us. We weren’t perfect. Hell, we were far from it. We fought like fire and gasoline, burning everything we touched. Jealousy leads us to mistrust each other but even then, I didn’t think it would end the way it did. I never thought that fight would be the last..the final, devastating blow before you ghosted me and blocked me everywhere.

I swear it wasn’t my intention to break up with you, I thought by exposing the cracks, we could patch them together. Instead, the truth just ended up pushing you away. When you drove off in your Benz and left me standing at my gate, it felt like everything had stopped. The time, the world, my heart…everything froze. I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to scream, I wanted to stop you, beg you to stay, to tell you that we could still save us but you didn’t look back, and i was too late.

Now, i watch you from a distance as you become successful, helping your dad doing business, running Cameron’s development like you were born to do it. I heard your name whispered in admiration at the club where I work, how you charm people the way you trained for. And you know what? I’m so so proud of you Rafe. I always knew you had it in you. I’ll be rooting for you always, even from the shadows.

Maybe two summers from now we’ll be talking again at some point, exchange smiles, our lives untangled and we’re cool again. I can picture you’ll be in your family’s jet, travelling, and me, on my boat moving on with our own lives. By then, i hope..im actually ready to move on. I know you’ve already moved on- I mean, why wouldn’t you? Still, there’s part of me wish that you wouldn’t yet, and maybe, just maybe, you would take me back.

But that’s just selfish isn’t it? I was selfish when we were together too. I made everything about me, i was inconsiderate, I turn something small into raging battles. I didn’t listen, didn’t see you for who you were. I’m ashamed of the person I was, of the mistakes I made. After everything i did, I’m surprised you haven’t send someone to kill me yet.

Lately I find myself sitting on the porch, watching sunsets like we used to, with a glass of something strong in my hand. I laugh at myself, at the crash I made, because what else can I do? It’s a twisted kind of coping—laughing at my own heartbreak. It doesn’t feel real and it’s really hard to let go but i guess that’s just the way life goes.

I know i was a dick, Rafe. I had too many flaws to count but as sick as it sounds, I loved you first. You’ll always be my first love. You were the best and the worst thing that ever happened to me, a storm that left me shattered but alive. Your love had impact me deeply, it is carved in my soul. No matter where we are, i want you to know that I’ll carry the past and the weight of my mistakes with me. Trust me, it will always, haunt me.

I regret every second for not treating you well, for not being the person you needed. Lastly, i want you to know that I still, truly, deeply, love you, I’m sorry.

*Ding* you heard the bell rings. You rush downstairs to answer the door.

“Pizza delivery”, says the delivery boy standing in front of you. You almost forgot you ordered one, an hour ago. You take your prepaid alfredo chicken pizza and thank him. It was Rafe’s favourite pizza, you’re not sure if it’s still his favourite though. After shutting the door, you walk to your kitchen.

Just two seconds later, *ding* the bell rings again. Did the delivery boy forget anything? You thought.

You open the door, “yes-“ you pause. You couldn’t believe it, standing right in front of you,

“Topper?”

“Topper what are you doing here?” you ask, your voice laced with confusion.

He then steps aside and reveals a man behind him, lying on the steps of your porch- a man whose silhouette you’d recognize anywhere. “Rafe,” you whisper.

“Shit I’m sorry to bother you but this dumbass got into an accident for driving while he’s high,” Topper blurts out, panickly.

Your brow furrowing and your confusion deepens. You walk closer to Rafe and spot the blood dripping from his head, “Accident? What? Then why do you bring him here instead of the hospital?” You ask, your voice sharp, slicing through the chaos of the moment.

“He won’t let me. He insisted I bring him here to see you,” Topper explains.

“Y/n,” Rafe speaks up, his voice low and strained.

Your heart skips a beat. It’s like the universe has stopped spinning again. This is the first time you hear him calling your name after two whole years.

“Hey Rafe, you’re bleeding,” you say, your voice mix with feelings.

“I’m fine,” he says, giving a soft, disarming smile while trying to sit up.

You instruct Topper to go find some cloth to stop the bleeding. As he dissapears, you sit on your knees facing to Rafe, “Rafe, what happened? Why are you here?” you ask, still have no clue of what’s going on here.

“I wanted to see you,” he replies, putting on that damn smile again, the one that’s always managed to unravel you. “I miss you, y/n.”

Your face goes pale, your eyes widens, the words hang in the hair, heavy and unexpected. “Rafe, you’re drunk,” you accuse, trying to make sense of what’s happening right now.

“No, I’m not, i swear I’m very conscious right now,” he insists, his voice firm. You’re still not sure if he’s telling the truth or not. “I really miss you, y/n,” he continues, his voice low but still clear for you to hear it.

Your heart aches, torn between disbelief and the undeniable pull of his words. “How hard did you hit your head? God, you’re still bleeding. We need to see a doctor,” you say, trying to stand up, but he grabs your hand, pulling you back down.

“Stop it, I’m fine i swear…this is nothing,” he says waving off the concern. Just then, Topper returns with a towel in his hand. He hands the towel to you and says, “dude, are you sure you’re okay? When i saw your car there were smokes everywhere. Looks like you hit that tree pretty hard,” his voice fill with concern.

“I’m fine Top, just go. I need to talk to y/n,” Rafe says with a dismissive wave. Topper hesitates, he looks at you for confirmation as if you’re the one in charge here. You nod at him, signalling an approval, “s’okay Top i can handle this.”

“Okay, just call me if anything happens,” he says. “Thank you,” you mutter softly to Topper as he’s leaving towards his car.

With Topper gone, you shift your focus back to Rafe. You take the towel and start dabbing on the blood on his forehead, “we still need to get this stitched up,” you say. Rafe then grabs your wrist, his grip firm but not forceful, “look at me,” he demands.

You look at him straight in the eyes, drowning in his blue eyes. It’s overwhelming- staring at the man that you love but no longer yours.

“I do mean what i said, i miss you y/n and i wanted to see you,” he says, his tone steady and sure.

“But why now?” You ask, your voice breaking under the weight of the question.

“Sar..Sarah told me tonight that you’ve been writing letters about me. She found them stashed under your bed,” he says, hesitantly.

Your stomach drops and you shake your head in disbelief, “God…i knew it there was something wrong. She was acting so weird when she left this morning,” you mutter.

“So it’s true? You’ve been writing about me?”

Your face is turning red, you’re struggling to find the words. “I- yes…I’ve been writing letters. Pretending like I’m gonna send it to you but i never do,” you stutter.

“Why didn’t you just send them?” He presses, his voice low, almost pleading.

“You know why Rafe…you’ve moved on. You blocked me few months after we broke up. You’re thriving now with your job, you got your whole life together, and I- I was the reason why we broke up. I can’t just crawl my way back into your life like nothing happened,” you shatter, your voice breaking as you’re struggling to control your tears.

Rafe shakes his head. He brushes his thumb over your knuckles and kisses it. “You’re wrong y/n, you’re absolutely wrong. I’ve been doing nothing over the past two years except than trying to forget about you. That’s why I’ve been doing all these jobs, thinking it could distract me, but no,” he shakes his head again. “Nothing could make me stop thinking about you.”

His confession leaves you breathless, your tears streaming down your face as he continues. “About the blocking and disappearing, I’m really sorry, I was a coward. The truth is, that day i came to your house to apologize. Then, as I stood outside, i saw you were laughing with jj through your window. I knew you guys were not together cause after jj left, I may or may not have confronted him…” he then mouthed sorry. “But then, I remember the way you looked so happy when you’re with him. At that time, I knew I had to let you go cause you deserve someone better and you deserve to be happy so that’s why I blocked you..as if that makes any difference.”

You idiot,” you scoff. “I never wanted anyone else, only you Rafe, only you. You’re the only one who could truly make me happy.”

His eyes glisten, his smile soft and hesitant. “Please forgive me y/n, I swear I’m a better person now and I love- I love you, so much. I still do.”

You reach up, caress his cheek and pull him in for a kiss. “I love you too Rafe,” you whisper. He cups your face and returns the kiss. The kiss is passionate, slow and tender. His lip is so soft and only god knows how much you miss this. The world fades around you, leaving only the two of you, two broken pieces finding their way back to each other.

You pull away from his face and let out a giggle. “Why are you laughing?” He asks, can’t help but let out a soft giggle too.

“Before you came I was actually writing another letter for you,” you admit, a shy smile appears on your face.

“Oh really? Tell me about it baby,” he smirks. Your smile widens at the sound of the nickname that rolls out from his mouth. “Mm I miss that. You, calling me baby. Anyways, it’s in my room, wanna come in?” You ask.

He shakes his head, pulling you closer as he leans back against the stairs railing. “Hmm in a bit sweetheart, you can tell me here while we stargaze. I missed your porch- and mostly you, of course,” he replies with a faint smile.

So you do. You talk to him about the letter while your head rest on his shoulder and your fingers intertwined. “Lastly I wrote, I love you, I’m sorry,” you say, explaining the last content of the letter. But then, you realise he has gone quiet. His stillness unsettling. You glance up to him, “Rafe?” He’s not responding. You check his pulse but there is none. Panic sets in as you shake him, calling his name.

“Rafe”

“Rafe, wake up”

“Wake up!”

“Wake up!”

“Y/n”

“Y/n”

“Y/n, wake up”

You gasp, your heart is pounding like a drum. You’re sweating all over your body as reality crashes down. It was a nightmare.

“Hey..baby you okay?” You turn your head to your right and realise it’s Rafe. He’s okay, he’s alive and he’s sitting on the bed next to you. Relief floods through you like a tidal wave.

“Is it the nightmare again?” He asks. You nod, signalling him that he’s right.

“It’s okay baby I got you. Here, come back to sleep,” he says, gently pulling you into his arms. You smile and cuddle him, clinging to the illusion of safety his embrace provides. You close your eyes again trying to fall back to sleep till your alarm suddenly rings.

You wake up with a tear running down your cheek. You hit the snooze button and realise that was a dream and this time, it’s the true reality. You look to the other side of your bed, it’s empty. It always has been for quite a while now. The truth is, that night after Rafe collapsed, you called for an ambulance. On the way to the hospital, they try everything to make his heart beat again, but nothing works. It was too late. He had lost too many blood before that you weren’t aware of and that same night, Rafe had died in your arms.

It’s been 3 years since the tragic. You keep having the same dream almost every night. Part of you is grateful that you and Rafe had ended in good terms but another part of you knows that the truth is you’ll never get the chance to redeem yourself and be a better partner. There’s nothing remaining other than the memories that will haunt you forever.

Rafe, if you’re hearing this, I love you, I’m sorry.

Like and reblog if you want to kys after reading this😇☺️

[bangchansdirty-slut]

Hello!! I love your stories!

Could you place an request for Heeseung x male reader? Wherever it is a type of enemies to fuckers,, Heeseung would feel jealous at times to see the reader with someone, in general Heeseung would be very possessive in someone who """hates""" (⁠ ⁠´⁠◡⁠‿⁠ゝ⁠◡⁠`⁠)

Hate That I Want U

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

Paring: Enemies to Fuckers!Top!Heeseung x Member!Bttm!Male Reader

Genre: Smut

Requested

More: Masterlist

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

"You're always hogging the spotlight," Heeseung grumbled, watching M/n charm their way through yet another interview. The young idol's laughter was infectious, and the interviewer's eyes sparkled with admiration. It was a dance Heeseung knew all too well—M/n's natural magnetism captivating everyone in the room.

M/n looked up, catching Heeseung's gaze. Their eyes met for a brief second before M/n's smile grew wider, as if challenging him to say it to his face. Heeseung clenched his fists, the heat rising to his cheeks. He couldn't deny the irritation he felt, but he also couldn't ignore the strange thrill that pulsed through him whenever they were at odds. It was like M/n knew exactly how to push his buttons—and enjoyed doing it.

After the interview wrapped up, Heeseung found himself unable to resist the urge to confront M/n. "What do you think you're playing at?" he hissed as the other members dispersed. "Stealing the show like that?"

M/n raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair with a casual air. "Just doing my job, sunbae." The way he said it, all sugary sweet with a hint of sass, only made Heeseung's blood boil more. "If you've got a problem with it, maybe you should work on your own charm."

Heeseung's jaw tightened. "Don't patronize me," he snapped. "I don't need to steal attention. I earn it."

M/n's eyes narrowed, the playfulness in them replaced with a hint of steel. "Oh, I see. So you think you're above me?"

Heeseung stepped closer, his voice low and dangerous. "You're the one acting like you're on top of the world. And let me tell you, that's not where you belong."

M/n's smirk grew. "Is that so? Then maybe you should come down from your high horse and show me what you're really made of." The challenge in his voice was unmistakable.

Heeseung felt the tension coil in his stomach, an unfamiliar mix of anger and something else—desire. He didn't know what had come over him, but he couldn't ignore the way M/n's words made his pulse race. "Fine," he bit out. "If that's what you want, I'll show you."

Jungwon, the group's leader, stepped between them, a hand on each of their shoulders. "Guys, come on," he said, his voice a calm reprimand. "This isn't the time or the place."

Heeseung took a step back, his eyes never leaving M/n's. "We're not done," he said through gritted teeth.

M/n simply shrugged, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Looking forward to it," he replied, his voice dripping with the promise of a fight.

The next day, backstage at a music show, the tension between Heeseung and M/n was palpable. They'd barely spoken since their heated exchange, the air thick with the electricity of unspoken words. As the members of ENHYPEN and TXT mingled, Heeseung couldn't help but steal glances at M/n, his frustration simmering below the surface.

The moment came when they were called to rehearse, one last time, their collaborative stage units : (M/n & Yeonjun) (Heeseung, Taehyun & Sunghoon) (Jake, Beomgyu & Jay) (Soobin & Niki) (Huening Kai, Sunoo & Jungwon). As Heeseung watched M/n and Yeonjun run through their routine, something snapped. The way M/n's body moved so effortlessly, the way Yeonjun's eyes followed him, it was too much. Jealousy and desire collided within him like a volatile storm, the pressure building until he could no longer contain it.

It was the last performance left, M/n and Yeonjun's unit. Heeseung watched from the side as M/n and Yeonjun's chemistry sizzled on stage. The way M/n's hips rolled, the way Yeonjun's eyes devoured him, it was a performance that had the audience screaming and the fan cams flashing. Heeseung felt his hands clench into fists, his nails digging into his palms. He couldn't stand the sight of it—how easily M/n stole the spotlight, how naturally he flirted with the very air around him.

As the performance drew to a close and the cheers grew deafening, Heeseung's jealousy boiled over. He waited for the crowd to die down, for the other members to congratulate M/n, and for the stage to clear. And then, as the lights dimmed and the cameras switched off, Heeseung made his move.

He stormed into M/n's private dressing room, slamming the door behind him. "What the hell was that?" he demanded, his voice a low growl.

M/n looked up from where he was toweling off his sweat-drenched hair, surprise flickering in his eyes before they darkened with something Heeseung hadn't seen before—desire. "Just giving the fans what they want," M/n replied, his voice low and sultry."Isn't that what we're all here for Hyung?"

Heeseung's breath hitched at the blatant provocation, the way M/n's eyes roamed over his body as if he were the one on stage. The room felt smaller, the air thick with the scent of their combined sweat and the lingering tension that had been building between them for weeks.

"You think you're so fucking hot, don't you?" Heeseung spat out, unable to mask the tremor in his voice. "Strutting around like you own the place."

M/n's smile was knowing, a silent dare. "Do I?" He stood up, closing the space between them. His eyes never left Heeseung's, the challenge in them unmistakable.

Heeseung's chest tightened, his heart hammering against his ribs. He was acutely aware of M/n's proximity, the heat of his body, the scent of his cologne—sharp and spicy—invading his personal space. "You know you do," he said, his voice hoarse. "It's all everyone talks about."

M/n reached out and placed a hand on Heeseung's chest, his touch feather-light, yet it sent a jolt of electricity through Heeseung's body. "Is that why you're so upset?" he murmured, his voice a purr. "Because everyone's looking at me?"

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, Heeseung felt like he could drown in the depths of M/n's gaze. He could see the mischief dancing in them, the way they seemed to say, 'I know exactly what you're feeling, and I'm enjoying every second of it.' He wanted to shove M/n away, to wipe that smug look off his face, so he turned M/n around and bent him against the table, pressing their bodies together.

M/n gasped, Heeseung's breath hot against his neck. "Is this what you want?" Heeseung taunted, his voice thick with lust. "To be punished for being such a brat?"

M/n's heart raced, his breathing shallow. He didn't resist as Heeseung's hands roamed his body, tracing the lines of his abs through his damp shirt. "Hyung!" he protested weakly, but his voice was laced with excitement.

Heeseung leaned in closer, his teeth grazing M/n's ear. "You drive me crazy," he murmured, his breath hot and tickling. "I hate it, but I can't get enough of you."

M/n's body responded before he could even form a coherent thought, his breath hitching as Heeseung's hands continued to explore. He felt the firm pressure of Heeseung's dick against his back, and the realization hit him like a ton of bricks—his sunbae wanted him, and not just in the way of a rivalry. It was raw, animalistic attraction.

"Then why don't you do something about it?" M/n shot back, his voice a challenge. He knew he was playing with fire, but the thrill was too intense to ignore.

Heeseung's grip tightened on M/n's hips, his mind racing. He knew he should stop, that this was a line they couldn't uncross, but the desire that had been festering within him was too strong. "You want me to fuck you until you can't even remember your own lines?" he growled, the words leaving his mouth before he could think better of it.

M/n's eyes widened, but instead of pushing him away, he leaned back, his body arching into Heeseung's touch. "I bet your lame excuse for a dick couldn't even make me cum," he retorted, the challenge in his voice unmistakable.

Heeseung's grip tightened, the dare in M/n's words making him harder than he'd ever been. "We'll see about that," he whispered, his hands moving to unbuckle M/n's pants. The younger idol's breath caught as Heeseung's fingers brushed against the growing bulge in his underwear.

M/n's eyes fluttered shut, his body betraying his words as Heeseung pulled his cock free, stroking it roughly. He couldn't believe this was happening—his rival, his sunbae, the one person he'd been trying to ignore for so long, was touching him like this. But it felt so good, so right, that he couldn't bring himself to stop it.

Heeseung's touch was surprisingly gentle despite the harshness of his words. He stroked M/n with a practiced ease that had the younger idol biting his lip to stifle a moan. The friction was exquisite, sending waves of pleasure crashing through him. He could feel the tension in Heeseung's body, the tremble in his hand, and it only served to make him more turned on.

"You like that?" Heeseung murmured, his breath hot against M/n's neck. "You like it when I touch you like this?"

M/n's only response was a whimper of pleasure, his body trembling in Heeseung's grasp. He knew he should push him away, but the sensation was too much to resist. The room was a cocoon of desire, the tension of their rivalry giving way to something more primal.

Heeseung's hand moved faster, his thumb circling the sensitive head of M/n's cock. The younger idol leaned back into him, his body begging for more, even as his mind screamed for him to regain control. "You're so fucking beautiful," Heeseung breathed into M/n's ear, the words sending a shiver down his spine.

M/n's eyes snapped open, his gaze meeting Heeseung's in the mirror. The raw hunger in his sunbae's eyes was unmistakable, and it sent a thrill through him that was equal parts terror and excitement. "I-I'm not," he stuttered, his voice a breathless whisper.

Heeseung smirked, his strokes growing more insistent. "Lying won't do you any good here," he said, his voice thick with lust. "I know exactly how much you want this."

M/n couldn't deny the truth in Heeseung's words. His cock was hard and leaking precum, his body eagerly responding to the older idol's touch. But he didn't want to admit it, not like this. He turned to face Heeseung, his eyes flashing with defiance. "Prove it," he dared, pushing back against the hand that held him.

Heeseung's smirk grew, his eyes dark with desire. He leaned in, his teeth catching M/n's earlobe in a gentle nip. "With pleasure," he murmured, his hand going to his cock, stroking it to full hardness. He pushed M/n's pants down further, exposing his firm ass to the cool air. M/n's breath hitched, his cheeks flushing at the blatant display of dominance.

M/n felt a strange mix of fear and excitement as Heeseung's hand moved from his cock to his ass, spreading his cheeks apart. He had never been taken like this before, but something about the way Heeseung was claiming him—like he owned every inch of his body—was intoxicating. He could feel the older idol's dick pressing against him, hot and demanding, and his own cock twitched in response.

Heeseung's hand slipped lower, teasing M/n's hole with a slick digit. "So tight," he murmured, his voice filled with a possessive need that made M/n's toes curl. "I bet you're going to feel so good around me."

M/n's eyes squeezed shut as Heeseung's finger breached him, the sensation a mix of pain and pleasure that had his knees buckling slightly. He bit his lip to keep from crying out, his body already begging for more. He could feel the head of Heeseung's cock nudging against his entrance, the blunt pressure making him shiver.

"Ready?" Heeseung's voice was a low, seductive growl, the question more of a demand than anything else.

M/n nodded, his breath shallow, his eyes never leaving Heeseung's in the mirror. He felt the pressure increase as Heeseung's cock began to push inside him, the stretching sensation both agonizing and exhilarating. He couldn't believe he was letting this happen, but the desire to feel Heeseung's dominance over him was too much to resist.

With one swift motion, Heeseung pushed all the way in, making M/n gasp. The older idol's grip on his hips tightened, his teeth sinking into M/n's shoulder as he held still for a moment, giving him time to adjust. The pain was intense, but it was quickly overtaken by the feeling of fullness, of being claimed by someone who had always been just out of reach.

M/n's nails dug into the dressing table, his breaths coming in short, sharp pants. He could feel every inch of Heeseung, the thickness of him filling him completely. "F-uck," he murmured, the word a plea and a curse all at once.

Heeseung pulled back slowly, watching M/n's face in the mirror, savoring the look of ecstasy and pain. "That's it," he coaxed, his voice a dark whisper. "Take it all."

M/n's eyes watered as Heeseung began to move, his hips snapping in a rhythm that was punishing and precise. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure and pain crashing through him, making his legs shake. He could feel the tension in Heeseung's body, the way his abs tensed with each movement, and it only served to spur him on.

Heeseung's strokes grew deeper, more demanding, his hand reaching around to grip M/n's cock in time with his thrusts. The younger idol couldn't help but moan, his body moving in sync with Heeseung's, his own hand reaching back to grip the older idol's hip, urging him faster.

Their eyes remained locked in the mirror, the reflection a warping blur of desire and anger. Each thrust was a declaration of power, a silent admission of the attraction that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long. The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, their harsh breaths, and the occasional moan that slipped past their clenched teeth.

M/n's body began to move of its own accord, pushing back against Heeseung's invasive cock, begging for more despite the burn. His own hand wrapped around his dick, stroking in time with Heeseung's punishing rhythm. He could feel his orgasm building, the pressure in his balls tightening with every stroke.

Heeseung's grip on M/n's hips grew bruising as he slammed into him, his eyes never leaving their reflection. "You're going to cum for me," he ordered, his voice gruff and demanding. "You're going to show everyone who you really belong to."

M/n's eyes rolled back in his head, the sensations overwhelming him. He didn't know if he could handle much more, but the thought of denying Heeseung anything was unbearable. His body was a live wire, every nerve ending alight with pleasure. "Hyung," he gasped, his voice trembling. "Please…"

Heeseung leaned in closer, his breath hot against M/n's neck. "What do you want?" he taunted, his voice low and velvety. "You want me to fill you up until you can't take it anymore?"

M/n's eyes snapped open, the fire in his gaze matching the heat between their bodies. "Yes!" he hissed, the word a desperate plea. "I want to feel you everywhere."

Heeseung's pace grew frenzied, his hand moving in tandem with his hips, stroking M/n's cock mercilessly. "You're going to scream my name," he murmured, his voice a seductive promise. "You're going to remember this every time you perform with him."

M/n's eyes widened at the mention of Yeonjun, but the anger it brought only served to fuel his arousal. He threw his head back, his mouth opening in a silent scream as he came, his hot cum spurting over the dressing table, mixing with the sweat that coated their bodies. Heeseung watched the display with a smug smile, his own climax not far behind.

Their bodies remained entwined, both trying to catch their breath, the silence in the room deafening. Heeseung's hand remained wrapped around M/n's still-hard cock, his own dick buried deep inside the younger idol. They were both panting, sweat glistening on their skin, the scent of sex thick in the air.

M/n's mind was a whirlwind of emotions—shock, pleasure, and a strange sense of satisfaction. He had never allowed himself to be so vulnerable before, especially not with someone he had such a tumultuous relationship with. But as Heeseung slowly withdrew, leaving him feeling empty, he realized he didn't regret a single moment of it.

The silence stretched between them, heavy with the aftermath of their encounter. Heeseung took a step back, his eyes still locked on M/n's in the mirror, his chest heaving. The desire in his gaze had transformed into something else—a mix of possessiveness and uncertainty.

M/n's breathing evened out, his body still trembling from the force of his orgasm. He straightened up, pulling his pants up with shaky hands. He could feel the wetness on his thighs, a testament to their explosive encounter. He turned to face Heeseung, his expression unreadable. "What now?" he asked, his voice a low murmur.

Heeseung looked at him, his own eyes dark and unreadable. He didn't know what to say—the raw emotion coursing through him was a tangle of anger, lust, and something else he couldn't quite put his finger on. "Now," he said, his voice gruff, "we clean up and pretend like this never happened."

M/n nodded, his cheeks flushed with both pleasure and embarrassment. He knew Heeseung was right—what had happened between them was explosive, and it couldn't be undone. They had to keep it a secret, for the sake of their group, their careers, and their "friendship".

The two of them cleaned up in tense silence, the reality of what they had just done weighing heavily on their shoulders. As Heeseung zipped up his pants, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret—not for the act itself, but for the mess they had created. Their rivalry had always been a dance of fire and ice, but this was something else entirely.

M/n stared at his reflection in the mirror, his eyes glazed over with a mix of disbelief and desire. He had never allowed anyone to touch him like that, to claim him so completely. He knew he should be furious, but all he felt was a strange sense of… completeness.

Heeseung turned away first, avoiding M/n's gaze as he grabbed his shirt from the chair. He knew that if he looked into those eyes again, he'd be lost. He couldn't explain the possessive need that had overtaken him, or the way his heart was racing in his chest. This wasn't supposed to happen—not with M/n, not like this.

M/n watched Heeseung leave, his own heart racing. He felt a strange mix of emotions. He was hurt by Heeseung's coldness, but also intrigued by the intensity of their encounter. He knew that Heeseung wasn't one to back down from a challenge, and in a twisted way, this was his way of claiming victory.

[saltnsugarbear]

an inch away from more than just friends (18+)

summary: based on the word prompt "I wanted you to be my first" with Carmy!

title from: "Naked In Manhattan" by Chappell Roan

word count: 5.1k

content warnings: beginnings of smut!!! MDNI!! stripper reader (can still be read as gn!), kissing, swearing, teasing Carmy, innuendos left and right, unprotected sex, brief fingering

side note: if anyone wants to yap about Carmy and stripper reader in my inbox after this, please do!!! they're rotting my brain. i love this dynamic <3 I'm actually so excited to post this raahh!!!

Living in New York was expensive.

This is no secret. But the results meant you worked two jobs. One as a bar tender and one as.... An exotic dancer. To put it kindly.

Two night jobs gave you mostly nocturnal habits, but the tips were good. Most of them were in ones and you couldn't exactly pay for everything with a band of dollar bills.

Which is how you ran into Carmy. Outside of a bank. He was lost and you were in a rush to get to the bar.

"Shit- Watch where you're fuckin' goin'!" You hiss as you stumble back, adjusting your bag strap as you steady yourself.

Your first interaction resembled those videos of puppies and senior dogs. You berating him mildly, him knocking you down with a few sentences and you hesitating before going back to nipping his ankles. You're embarrassed now by the way you trailed after him on the sidewalk. You followed this man just because he ran into you on accident.

Carmy has never told you why he didn't yell at you on that day. Why he didn't tell you off for following him through two stoplights. Just like how you couldn't explain why you felt the need to berate this curly-haired stranger in the middle of New York. It also ended up being a pure matter of coincidence when one of your regulars took you to dinner. A dinner that resulted in a kitchen tour that led you back to the man who ran into you.

You stuck around enough to pry a phone number out of him. He was easy to crack, batting your lashes at him and quiet pleading.

He didn't anticipate quite how many notifications you'd wrack up on his phone. He felt obnoxious, being the person whose phone was always buzzing. You were like a labrador chasing at his heels for his attention. Carmy felt bad about when he tried ghosting you. Letting you lead a one-sided conversation for a day.

Just when he thought he'd gotten rid of his distraction, you showed up in the alleyway where he smoked after work. You were already out there when he got outside, leaning against the wall with a cigarette on your lips. That night you managed to convince him to give you a ride to the club after coming all the way out to Daniel to scold him for trying to ghost you.

The first time Carmy pulled up in front of the club, his face flushed bright pink. When you turned to thank him, you couldn't help but tease him over it.

"Aw, Carmen! You didn't tell me you've never been to a club before," You smile at him sweetly.

"Carmy," He says quickly, trying to clear his throat. "Just Carmy is fine."

His words make you hum, watching him as you rest your head against the headrest.

"Wanna come in? Can give you a free dance for the ride," You offer him, smile widening as you watch flush work over his ears and down his neck.

"I uh- I've got to um- I can't I gotta-" He stutters, trying to get out some excuse.

"Fuckin' with you, Carmen," You giggle as you open the passenger door. "You gotta pay for a dance just like everyone else."

You bid him thank you and goodnight after you climbed out of his car, blowing him a kiss through the window as you went inside. And thus started your friendship with Carmy. Although unconventional, you intrigued him. He had never hung out with someone so.... Brazen. Someone so sure about who they were and so different. Someone like you usually trailed after Mikey, fawning over him in hopes he might take you to dinner or to his bed. You were so different from Carmy that it just... Worked.

You brought a different sort of comfort in Carmy. Neither one of you had any expectations for this, and that was enough.

You took to inviting yourself to Carmy's apartment in the beginning before he started asking you over every night. You never expected him to make you dinner but after a few nights of your intrustion, he started asking about your favorite dishes. Started cooking for someone other than himself or a customer.

Which is how you ended up in his kitchen, telling him about your day before work. Complaining about your car that had been acting up and smoking out of the tire well.

"My car's in the shop.." You pout, leaning against the counter, twirling your pen between the surface and your fingers.

"Yeah?" Carmy asks, distantly. He's making you dinner before you have to leave for your shift.

"'S gonna be... Stupid expensive," You sigh, laying your arms on the counter and resting your chin on your forearm. "And Sierra has been askin' for lots of my shifts so I'm not gettin' as much as usual... Gonna be tight between that and rent... 'S my luck though.."

Carmy glances back when you sigh, heart twisting when he sees how your lip juts out with your cheek pressed against your arm.

Carmy tries not to let his thoughts run too wild. Godforbid he messes a good thing up. But it's really hard when you're looking up at him with wide eyes and mouth twisted in a pout. It's easy to let his mind wander to another scenario where you'd look at him like that. Hands resting on your thighs as you sit on your knees, eyes practically begging him to take off his jeans.

He's quick to turn back to the stove, distracting his mind from those thoughts by focusing on what he knew. Food. Not sex and definitely not how you'd look in bed.

Carmy distracts himself with plating dinner. He pulls out two of his pasta bowls and plates up the chicken alfredo you begged him to make for you tonight. Not that you really had to, he would make anything you asked him to. Carmy can hear your hum of excitement as you stand up straight. You've learned to watch Carmy work from the counter instead of trying to help. It just created a bigger headache for the both of you.

Once he's finished plating and puts the bowl in front of you, you give him a quick 'thank you' befire digging in. You carry most of the conversation, making sure to let Carmy know when you wanted his feedback (you learned early-on that Carmy was content to listen, even when you prompted him for a response. He needed to be invited to share his thoughts with you). To anyone else his responses would seem disinterested, but you knew him enough that anything more than a half stuttered few words was good for you.

Carmy does let you help clean up. Letting you pack up the extra food Carmy has started to include so you could take something to your dancer friends or to take home. Carmy focused on rinsing dishes off before putting them in the dishwasher.

You've both fallen into a routine. Once you're both done cleaning, Carmy goes to his room to collect his things for work. You collect your bag from the living room and slip on your shoes and coat.

When you're both ready, Carmy corals you out the door and letting you lead him to the parking garage across from his apartment building. Again the car is filled by your chatter and Carmy's limited input as he drives you to work.

There's a weird vibe when Carmy pulls up to the curb in front of the club. His fingers tap erratically on the wheel and he looks like he's deep in thought. You're about to climb out of the car when he speaks up.

"Y'know, I could um... I could foot the uh, the mechanic bill for ya?" Carmy suggests.

"What?" You ask, turning back towards him quickly.

"For your car... Could pay it off for ya.." He shrugs like it's not a big deal.

"Carm.." You sigh, preparing to turn down what's actually a great offer.

"'S not a big deal promise. You're tight on money and I don't want y'stressin' and risk missin' out on more.." He says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. It's a moments hesitation before you throw your arms around him, leaning over the center console to give him a hug.

"Thanks, Carm," You mutter in his jacket before pulling away. "Means a lot."

You turn back and open the door before turning back to him. Carmy makes a noise of surprise when you place a quick kiss to his cheek, admiring the light lipgloss stain on his cheek. You climb out before he can say anything, ducking down to peer at him from the sidewalk, "Thank you, Carmen!"

You wave him goodbye as he pulls away from the curb, face bright red and stomach full of butterflies.

He's so fucked.

You hope to God Carmy actually picks up his phone. He usually does but you can never be too sure on Carmy's time on his phone.

You're standing in the alley outside of the club, jacket wrapped around you but it's not enough to warm your legs.

"Hey," Carmy's voice is groggy, making your stomach twist with guilt.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Carm.." You sigh, ashing your cigarette.

"No, what's up?" Carmy cuts you off and you sigh again.

"I uh.... I need a ride.. Guy was bein' a major dick and I... I got mad at him and Angie's sendin' me home early.." You tell him. You hadn't bothered changing before you walked out of the club, only grabbing your jacket before you stormed off.

"Give me ten minutes." Carmy's words are final when he says them. He gives you a moment to object before hanging up.

You don't bother to go back inside to grab your things, running on the anger from your customer and manager. It's less than ten minutes before Carmy pulls up to the curb. You climb in the moment the car stops, missing the double take Carmy does when he sees how much of your legs are exposed. You're too busy taking one last hit from your cigarette before dropping it to the sidewalk. When you turn back into the car, Carmy has to tear his eyes away from your thighs, looking for an opening to pull away from the club. He lets you wallow in silence before it hits you.

"Oh, fuck me," You sigh, leaning against your hand on the door and rubbing at your brow.

"What?" Carmy glances at you briefly before flicking on his turn signal.

"Left my keys in my bag and fuckin'- Left my bag at work and I don't-" You sigh heavily, rubbing your hand over your eyes. "I don't have clothes at your place and I can't get home. I'm such a fuckin' mess tonight, I'm sorry.."

"'S okay," Carmy says, taking the gap in cars to pull into the parking lot.

"Carm-" You start.

"It's okay, really. Just give you some of my clothes and I'll uh- I'll sleep on the couch," He says, eyes scanning for a parking spot as if he didn't just invite you to spend the night.

"I'm not gonna make y'do that, Carmy," You tell him while he prepares to reverse into a spot.

"Not makin' me do anything," Carmy tells you once he's parked in the spot. "Now let's get upstairs cause it's fuckin' cold."

You hadn't noticed before but Carmy's only dressed in sweatpants and one of his stupid white t-shirts. You watch as he tucks his hands into his pockets, trying not to stare at the way how his ass looks and how his thighs fill them out.

"Fuckin' stupid f'not grabbing my pants.." You mutter grumpily, bringing the borrowed jacket tight around you. Carmy huffs a few steps in front of you, taking the opportunity to glance at your legs again. Both of you crowd together as you cross the street and enter the apartment building. The building is warmer, making you loosen your hold on the jacket. Being enclosed with Carmy in the elevator makes you open it even more, making Carmy avert his gaze.

You make it more difficult by tucking in close to him, slipping your phone between both of you to snap a quick picture. He still hasn't figured out he doesn't need to look at the screen. When he looks down at your phone, his eyes catch on the deep cut of your top. His breathe catches in his throat at all the skin there, taking in every inch of it.

Within a moment he tears his eyes away, glancing at the numbers as they ding by. Carmy doesn't pay much mind as you hum next to him, bumping him with your shoulder softly. He's gotten used to your casual affections.

Carmy let's you lead him to his apartment door, slipping past you to unlock the door. You still smell like the body spray you showed him. You kept boasting about how it was vanilla and shea and how much you liked it. One of the girls at work had told you about it, and Carmy mentally thanks her for it. Carmy let's you into his apartment, stepping off to the side to toe off his shoes. You sigh as you step in the space, beelining for the island. You drop your phone and cigarette pack before you start shrugging off your jacket. When Carmy looks up from his shoes he feels like he's fucking buffering.

There's so much skin on display and he has to blink hard to fight getting a hard-on. He's not sure what he was thinking, that you had put on a shirt before storming out of work? With the coat off, Carmy can see where your shorts hug your ass, a little bit slipping out of them. He traces up from there to where your top cuts across your skin, breaking up your lower and upper back. There's something else around your middle, a belt of bead strands that clack when you move around and flash refracted light around the room.

You hum as you step out of your shoes, tweaking a strand of hair as you set your jacket on the counter.

"I can sleep on the couch," You tell him, as you turn around to lean back against the counter. He still cringes as you push yourself onto the counter. Carmy's given up on asking you to not. Now he's kind of grateful for it.

"No, it's fine. You can jus' take my bed, not a big deal. Just for tonight, right?" Carmy has to turn away from you to put his locks in place but he can catch your hum as you kick your legs lightly.

"I guess," You sigh. Carmy shakes his head lightly as he walks past the kitchen to his room. You slip off the counter and follow him, beads clacking as you do.

You're not sure why you're surprised that Carmy's room is bland. The rest of his apartment was exactly decorated until you brought things into it. His bedroom was the one room you hadn't seen yet.

"Boring room, Carm.." You tell him, taking it in before your eyes go to where he's digging through his closet. He gives a short hum in acknowledgment but doesn't say anything. While you wait you cross to the bed, sitting at the foot for a moment before you decide to flop back against the mattress.

"What did-" Carmy starts before he turns around. He cuts himself off when he sees you splayed out on his bed, hands resting on your stomach as you trace patterns on the ceiling.

"What did what?" You ask, turning your head so you can see him. Carmy has to clear his throat, folding the sweater he has in half and then in half again.

"What did that uh- that guy from the club? What'd he do?" He asks, setting the sweater on the mattress before he goes to his dresser. He had to buy it when you told him he can't store his extra jeans in the oven. Mostly because he was using it more now that he had you.

You groan loudly, turning back to the ceiling. "Was jus' bein'a dick! Tried coppin' feels left and right, and when I finally told him to stop being a sleazy jackass he got mad and caused a ruckus about me being an ungrateful bitch and then Angie got involved and well.."

You trail off because after Angie had gotten involved you stormed off and called Carmen. You sigh heavily and Carmy turns to look at you before looking back at his dresser.

"I uh.." He clears his throat quietly. "I don't really have... Any shorts or anything, just like uh.. Sweats, jeans.."

"That's okay!" You chirp, pushing yourself up. You lean back against your hands, tilting your head as Carmy turns back to you. You don't miss the way he pushes his back against the furniture, like he's trying to melt into it.

"This'll do," You grab the sweater, running your thumbs over the fabric softly. Carmy nods and you give him a bright grin. "Be back in like... Two minutes!"

Carmy watches as you duck out of his room and make your way to the bathroom. He crosses to the foot of his bed and sits next to where you had been. He squeezes his eyes shut when he hears the door lock click. He tries filling his head with anything he can to keep his thoughts away from you splayed out on his sheets half-dressed.

It turns out that trying not to think about something only makes him think about it more.

Carmy does everything he can think of. Thinks of Chef Daniel, of the dish he was working on this morning. Of Sugar and how he should call her back. Hell, he even let's his mind wander to his mother. But somehow his mind always turns back to you laying back against his bed.

He opens his eyes quickly as he hears you open the bathroom door and the sound of your beads getting farther. He assumes your putting your things with you jacket in the kitchen. It's maybe a minute before you make it back to the doorway to the bedroom.

You look like a vision in his sweater. It's an old navy-colored pullover, 'Brooklyn' across your chest in fuzzy, white letters.

"Very tourist of you," You tell him, pulling at the hem to look at the words. You glance up just in time to find him rolling his eyes at your words, a soft flush dusting his cheeks.

His eyes follow you as you cross to the bed.

"Needed to get some kind of clothes.." He mutters as you climb onto the bed. He doesn't miss the way you huff, shuffling up to the pillows. When he glances back at you he gets an eye full of your baby pink underwear of your work clothes. His eyes widen before his eyes dart quickly up to your face. You're not paying attention, moving one of the pillows over to rest against the other.

"Carmy-" You start, and he feels like he's been caught red-fucking-handed but you didn't even catch him looking. You turn to sit, legs folded out in front of you. He hums for you to continue.

"Lay with me for a little?" You ask him, like you're asking him to hand you something. Like it's normal.

"What?" He chokes out. You huff, the air from it ruffling your hair.

"Lay with me? Stay a little bit before I go to bed?" You cock your head a little, looking at him with wide eyes.

"And do what?" He asks. He doesn't know why he's fucking asking but Jesus Christ you want him to lay in bed with you and his brain is kind of malfunctioning.

You shrug, "I don't know... Sit and talk?"

Carmy seems reluctant, like he doesn't want to be in the room any longer than he has to. Maybe you crossed a line.

"You don't have to," You start, back pedaling on your offer. "Just usually have some sort of like.... Background noise when I go to bed. But my phones gonna die, don't want to steal your charger from you too, tonight."

"Uh... Sure. Yeah, sure.." Carmy sounds hesitant but he gets up and makes his way to the other side of the bed, sitting back against the pillow you left.

You grin at him brightly, curling up against your pillows and tucking your legs under the blanket.

"Tell me about work," You tell him, eyes darting around his face. You always encourage him to tell you about what he does at Daniel, asking questions if you don't know or understand something.

He starts off with reminding you of the dish he did the previous day before coming back to what he did today. You nod along as he describes the menu and the specific dish he had today. You liked watching how animated he could get when talking about a dish.

You let him talk as you rest your head against your hand. You can't help but trace over his features, watching as he licks his lower lip quickly when he pauses. You don't mean to interrupt him.

"Can I kiss you, Carmen?" You ask him softly. Carmy stares at you wide-eyed, mouth open in mid-sentence. His ears are bright pink.

"What?" He blinks a few times.

"Can I give you a kiss?" You say again, like it's the most normal question you could ask him.

"I- Uh- Sure?" He sounds unsure and it makes you furrow your brow.

"Yes or no, Carm," You prompt him gently.

"Yes," He nods quickly, much more sure this time. You give him a quick smile before you're adjusting yourself. You're sitting on your knees now, shuffling forward until they're pressed against Carmy's thigh.

You don't miss how he fidgets and you grab his hand with your left one. "Just a kiss, Carmy."

That's the last thing you say before you bring your right hand to the side of his face and pull him into you. Your lips are soft, is what he first notices. So is your hand. The kiss is chaste and it feels like it's over too soon.

When you pull away, Carmy trails after you, lips ghosting yours as he tries to follow.

"Carm-"

"Please," He cuts you off before kissing you again. Carmy brings the hand from yours to your face, holding you close. You get experimental, turning your head to change the angle. Carmy follows your lead, bringing his hand from his lap to sneak under the hem of your sweater. He pulls at your hip until you get the hint.

Climbing onto his lap gives you the opportunity to deepen the kiss, pulling at his lower lip gently before you slip your tongue into his mouth. His whine is slightly muffled, letting you explore as you please. His grip on your hip tightens as you lower your weight fully on his lap. You don't miss the tent of his sweats pressing against your lower stomach.

You give an experimental roll of your hips, nudging your core just a little over his bulge. He inhales sharply before pulling away, grabbing for the hand that's holding his face.

"I don't um.. I've never..." Carmy trails off. He won't meet your eye, instead focusing on where his hand is holding your wrist.

"Oh! No, that's okay, baby," You coo softly to him, rocking your hips slowly. "Only ever been with like, two people so don't worry.. Pretty new t'this too."

Carmy groans as you continue to drag your core over the tent in his pants. He drops his head to your shoulder, turning his face so he can press soft kisses to your neck.

The kisses are featherlight as Carmy let's himself get lost in the movements of your hips. He groans quietly into your skin when you slowly pick up the pace.

"I uh-" Carmy starts against your skin. You're quick to slip your hand into his curls, guiding his head back so you can hear him clearly. His face is flushed pink as you look at him.

"I want you... I um- I want you to be... Be my first.." He says ths words softly, his eyes are tracing the skin of your neck, mind wandering to how it would look covered in kisses.

"Carm.." You coo softly, bringing your hand from his hair to guide his gaze to yours. "You sure?"

He nods quickly, eyes flicking between yours. "Please?"

Who are you to say no when he asks so prettily?

"Okay," You giggle softly, bringing him into another kiss. This time Carmy tries taking control, prodding gently until you open your mouth to him. He tries to remember how you kissed him, making you huff before you pull away.

"Don't think too hard.." You tell him, placing a gentle kiss to his chin. You nip softly at his jaw before coming back to kiss him. He lets you take back the lead, letting his hands come to rest against your thighs. You bring your hands to his and lead them under your sweater, resting just over your waistband.

Carmy takes the hint, tracing over the skin he glanced earlier. As if to give him some idea, you slip your hands under his own shirt. You let your fingers skim over his abs, following the light trail of hair up his chest. He inhales when you brush your thumbs over both his nipples, pressing his chest into your hands.

You smile against his mouth, pulling away so you can catch your breathe.

However Carmy takes that as the opportunity to kiss at your neck, ducking to nip at your neck. You whine quietly, slowing your hips down to a stop. Carmy groans when you lift your hips but once he realizes why he's less upset. You tug at his waistband, wiggling it as much as you can without his help.

Carmy helps, lifting his hips and hooking his thumbs in his waistband and shoving them to his thighs. You inhale softly when his cock springs free.

Carmy was humble. To say the least.

He didn't act like he had a big dick. He didn't try to boast about it if he ever got the chance. Blush works it's way down his neck at your noise. You're staring transfixed at his cock like you've never seen something like it.

When you look back up you drag Carmen into a sweet kiss. You kiss him slowly, cradling his face as you drag your clothed core over his exposed head. Carmy whimpers into your mouth, taking your lower lip between his.

He lets you go to catch his breath. He can't think of a time he's been more turned on in his life

"Y-You're panties are so- so wet.." Carmy says between pants. He says them like they're not the filthiest thing to leave his mouth.

"Uh-huh," You nod, placing kisses to his jaw.

"Can I please?" One of Carmy's hands has slipped to your waistband, slowly creeping towards your clit. You whine softly into his neck as he ghosts his fingers lower. You can't help but rock your hips into his hand, letting his fingers skim over your entrance.

"Yes, Carmy, yes." You trace a vein with your tongue. He hooks his fingers into your underwear, already prodding at your hole with two fingers.

"Oh my god," Carmy sighs, pressing his mouth against your hair. His breathing ruffles your hair and he has to shut his eyes at feeling of your slick. He dips his fingers into your entrance, making you bite softly at his neck. He pushes until his up to his knuckles. His fingers reach deeper than your own and the heel of his hand presses delightfully against your clit.

Carmy watches in awe as you pull back from his neck and ride his fingers. He gives a few experimental thrusts that make your jaw drop. After a few minutes of this, you bring Carmen into a quick kiss, tugging at his lower lip.

"Need more, Carm," You tell him, lifting your hips off his hand. Carmy mourns the loss as you reach for his dick. His mourning is short-lived when your fingers encircle him, groaning as you angle his head against your entrance. You sink down slowly, and Carmy feels like he could come with just his tip inside you. He won't, but Jesus fucking Christ.

"So fuckin' warm.." Carmy sighs. He holds your hips tightly, keeping you in place. You put your hands on top of his, squeezing them tightly as you sink lower. His jaw drops open at the feeling of your walls around him. You clench around him gently, pulling him into a messy kiss. He pulls back to breathe when you thighs sit flush to his. Having you seated on his cock alone almost makes him come but he has to tense his stomach to prevent it.

Carmy's head falls back against the wall, chest rising and falling heavily as you sit flush in his lap. You can't help but bring your hands to his face, holding him gently as you take in the sight.

"You're so pretty, Carm.." You tell him softly, soothing a thumb over his cheekbone. You're too distracted to notice the twitch against your walls.

"Don't- Fuck- Don't say that..." Carmy mutters, leaning into your touch.

"Say what?" You're confused, tilting your head to one side with a furrowed brow.

"Call me pretty... Make me fuckin'- fuckin' bust b'fore I can move.." He grunts softly as he adjusts his hips. You squeak when his movements justle you, pressing deeper against you.

"Fuck-" You sigh, ducking your head to the side. You can't help the way your eyes flutter shut, soothing your thumb over his skin to keep you grounded. Once Carmy settles back down you pull him into a slow kiss, taking his lower lip between your teeth to tug at gently.

You roll your hips into his, relishing the way he groans into your mouth. The noise trails into a whimper as you clamp your walls around him, making his hands hold on tight to your thighs. The sound makes your head spin, pulling away to catch your breath and hold Carmy's face back as he tries to chase your lips.

You smooth your thumbs over the curls above his ears, while you collect yourself. Carmy ruts his hips up into you, making you squeal softly at the motion.

"Relax, relax," You pull away to catch his eyes. His pupils are blown wide when he gazes at you, blinking softly. You can't help but smile at him.

"Let me make you feel good.."

[mywhisperingwords]

never will be | fred g. weasley

summary: if one more person called fred your boyfriend, you were going to hex them—and then probably yourself for wishing it were true word count: 5.8k masterlist

“Seriously, though,” Angelina said, leaning against the Gryffindor common room sofa with a sly grin, “when are you two finally going to admit it?”

“Admit what?” Fred asked, looking up from the deck of Exploding Snap cards he was shuffling.

“That you’re dating,” George chimed in from across the room, tossing a chocolate frog wrapper into the fire.

You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt. “For the hundredth time, we’re not dating.”

“Not yet, at least,” Angelina muttered, smirking at you.

Fred laughed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “Don’t listen to them. They’re just bored and trying to start drama.”

George snorted. “Says the bloke who can’t go two hours without dragging her off to help with one of his pranks.”

“That’s because she’s got steady hands,” Fred argued, flashing you a grin that made your stomach flip. “Best partner-in-crime I could ask for.”

“Mm-hmm,” George said, exchanging a knowing look with Angelina.

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks but forced a casual laugh. “Exactly. Partners-in-crime. Nothing more.”

Fred’s grin widened, oblivious to the way your voice faltered on the last words.

Later that evening, as you sat in your usual spot in the common room, Fred plopped down beside you, his long legs stretching out in front of him.

George and Angelina had finally left you alone, their laughter about your so-called “relationship” fading into the background.

Fred tossed a bright green bean into the air, catching it in his mouth. “Honestly, they’re relentless. Next thing you know, they’ll be planning our wedding.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Oh, definitely. George would insist on fireworks during the vows.”

“And Angelina would probably hex the cake to explode in my face,” Fred added, grinning.

“Not that you wouldn’t deserve it,” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder.

Fred gasped dramatically. “Me? Deserve it? Please, I’d be the perfect groom. You, on the other hand…”

You raised an eyebrow. “What about me?”

Fred smirked, leaning back in his chair. “You’d probably spend the entire ceremony arguing with me about the flowers or the seating arrangements.”

“Only because you’d insist on something ridiculous, like having a Quidditch match instead of a reception,” you shot back, laughing.

“See? Proves my point,” Fred said, throwing another bean into his mouth.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the grin tugging at your lips. The conversation was silly, but it sent a pang through your chest all the same. For a moment, you wondered—what if it weren’t so ridiculous? What if you weren’t just friends?

“Guess it’s a good thing we’d never actually be a couple,” you said lightly, testing the waters.

Fred snorted, not catching the slight hesitation in your voice. “You’ve got that right. Can you imagine? We’d probably kill each other within a week.”

Your smile faltered for a split second, but you quickly recovered, laughing along with him. “True. It would be a disaster.”

“An entertaining one, though,” Fred added, grinning at you.

You laughed again, but the ache in your chest lingered as his words played over in your mind. A disaster.

Fred, oblivious, tossed the box of beans onto the table and stretched his arms over his head. “Anyway, who needs all that relationship nonsense? We’re better off just being us.”

“Right,” you said softly, your smile not quite reaching your eyes. “Just us.”

But as you watched Fred lean back, his expression carefree and content, you made a silent decision.

It was time to stop hoping for something that would never happen. It was time to move on.

A couple days later, Fred dropped into the seat next to you in the common room, his typical big grin directed at you. “Fancy sneaking out to the kitchens? I was thinking a snack, but maybe we could even go for a full-course meal if the house-elves are feeling generous.”

You didn’t look up from your book, keeping your voice steady. “Can’t. I’ve got plans tonight.”

Fred tilted his head, frowning. “Plans? With who?”

“Just plans,” you said vaguely, flipping a page.

Fred narrowed his eyes, studying you for a moment, but you didn’t elaborate. Eventually, he shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Your loss. More food for me.”

You hummed noncommittally, keeping your gaze fixed on the words in front of you.

Later that evening, Fred was sprawled on the sofa near the fire, George and Lee arguing over a card game beside him. Angelina sauntered in, her hair tied back in a loose ponytail.

“Oi, Ang,” Fred called, waving her over. “What’s she up to tonight?”

Angelina raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

“You know who. She said she had plans.”

Angelina hesitated for half a second before smirking. “She’s got a date.”

Fred blinked, the words not registering immediately. “A date?”

“Yeah,” Angelina said, sitting on the arm of the sofa. “With that bloke from Ravenclaw—what’s his name? Aaron? Aiden?”

“Andrew,” George supplied helpfully, grinning.

“Right. Andrew,” Angelina said, crossing her arms. “Apparently, he’s been asking her out for ages, and she finally said yes.”

Fred frowned, a strange tightness forming in his chest. “Huh.”

George glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Something wrong, Fred?”

“No,” Fred said quickly, shaking his head. “Why would there be?”

George exchanged a look with Lee, who raised an amused eyebrow. But neither of them said anything, much to Fred’s relief.

Meanwhile you were trying your best to focus on Andrew as he told you about his latest Quidditch practice. He was charming, handsome, and undeniably kind. Exactly the type of person you should be going out with.

But as much as you tried to stay engaged, your mind kept wandering. His laugh wasn’t quite as infectious. His jokes weren’t quite as sharp. And when he leaned in slightly to brush his hand against yours, your chest didn’t flutter the way you wanted it to.

You forced a smile, reminding yourself why you were here. Andrew had always been good to you, and after Fred’s clear rejection, it was time to stop holding onto something that wasn’t going to happen.

“Are you alright?” Andrew asked, his voice soft as he studied your face.

“Yes,” you said quickly, sitting up straighter. “Sorry, just a bit distracted. It’s been a long week.”

Andrew smiled, his eyes warm. “I get it. I’m glad you said yes, though. I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.”

You felt a pang of guilt but managed another smile. “Me too.”

It wasn’t entirely a lie. Andrew deserved a chance, and you were determined to give it to him.

Still, as the evening wore on, you couldn’t help but wonder what Fred was doing. And no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the thought that you wished he were sitting across from you instead.

You had done your best to steer clear of Fred over the past few days. You weren’t sure why, if someone dared to ask. Maybe you wanted to avoid telling him about your date or maybe talking to Fred would force you to acknowledge that moving on was harder than you thought.

It wasn’t easy, avoiding Fred, considering he had a knack for showing up everywhere you didn’t want him to be.

And, naturally, today was no exception.

“Oi!” Fred’s voice rang out from behind you as you made your way down the hallway after class. “Wait up!”

You considered pretending not to hear him, but the sound of his footsteps catching up told you there was no escaping this time.

“Hey,” he said, falling into step beside you. His usual grin was in place, though there was a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “Haven’t seen much of you lately. Been avoiding me or something?”

You gave a half-hearted laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous. Just… busy.”

Fred raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Busy with what? Or should I say who?”

Your stomach twisted at the question, but you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Angelina mentioned you went on a date,” Fred said, his tone light and teasing, though his eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place. “Figured you’d be too busy swooning over this Andrew bloke to hang out with your real friends.”

You rolled your eyes, gripping the strap of your bag a little tighter. “It was just a date, Fred. No swooning involved.”

Fred tilted his head, studying you. “Come on. Spill. What’s he like? Is he as funny as me? Doubt it.”

You hesitated, your heart hammering as you searched his face for any hint of jealousy, any sign that this conversation bothered him. But Fred’s grin was firmly in place, his tone casual and carefree.

“He’s nice,” you said finally, keeping your voice even. “Really nice.”

Fred’s smile faltered for the briefest of moments before returning. “Nice, huh? That’s a glowing review.”

You shrugged, refusing to meet his eyes. “What else do you want me to say?”

“I dunno,” Fred said, scratching the back of his neck. “Maybe that he’s secretly boring or has terrible taste in music. Something I can mock him for.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you, but it quickly faded as the tension in your chest tightened.

Fred shoved his hands into his pockets, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “Well, if he’s so bloody great, maybe we should invite him to hang out with us sometime.”

Your head snapped toward him, your eyes narrowing. “Are you serious?”

Fred shrugged, his grin turning lopsided. “Why not? He could use a proper Weasley test. See if he can keep up.”

You shook your head, muttering under your breath. “You’re impossible.”

Fred watched you closely, his grin slipping just enough to reveal the confusion beneath it. He didn’t know why the thought of you with Andrew left a sour taste in his mouth, but he was determined to ignore it.

Maybe it was just because he didn’t know the guy. Or because he didn’t want to lose his favorite partner-in-crime to some bloke from Ravenclaw. That had to be it.

Definitely not because he cared more than he should.

&

The common room buzzed with its usual post-dinner chaos. Fred was in his element, loudly challenging George to an Exploding Snap rematch after a questionable loss earlier, when you walked in with Andrew.

Fred’s laughter faltered for half a second, but he quickly covered it up with a grin. “Well, well, look who decided to join us. Ravenclaw royalty.”

“Hi, Fred,” you said, your voice neutral but carrying an edge of warning.

Andrew smiled politely, clearly unfazed. “Hey. I thought I’d take you up on your offer to hang out.”

“Brave of you,” Fred quipped, gesturing to the chaos around him. “We’re not exactly Ravenclaw standards of refined.”

Andrew chuckled. “I can handle it.”

George appeared beside Fred, grinning broadly. “Andrew, right? You’re the Quidditch guy. Chaser, yeah?”

“That’s me,” Andrew said, looking pleasantly surprised.

“Always nice to have another flyer in the group,” George said, clapping him on the back. “Ignore Fred if he gets too annoying.”

“Oi!” Fred protested, but George was already leading Andrew to the sofa, chatting about brooms and game strategies.

You sighed, crossing your arms. “Play nice,” you muttered as you passed Fred, taking a seat near Angelina and Lee.

Fred watched as Andrew settled into the group, answering questions and laughing at everyone’s jokes with ease. His jaw tightened when Angelina leaned over to whisper, “He’s charming, isn’t he?”

“Sure,” Fred said, his voice flat.

An hour later, everyone seemed to be getting along swimmingly—except Fred.

He wasn’t outright rude to Andrew, but his usual teasing had a sharper edge tonight. Every time Andrew spoke, Fred had a quick quip or an exaggerated eye roll.

When Andrew mentioned his house winning the latest match, Fred chimed in with, “Ravenclaw’s strategy, isn’t it? Win the game, lose the fun.”

George elbowed Fred, but Andrew only laughed. “We take Quidditch seriously. Some of us, at least.”

Fred grinned tightly. “Right. Because fun has no place in sports.”

“Okay,” you interjected, cutting through the growing tension. “Who wants snacks? I’ll get some from the kitchens.”

“I’ll help,” Andrew offered, standing up.

You hesitated, glancing briefly at Fred before nodding. “Sure. Let’s go.”

After you and Andrew left the common room, Fred slumped back into his chair, muttering something under his breath.

“What’s your problem?” George asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Problem? I don’t have a problem,” Fred said quickly.

“Sure you don’t,” Angelina said, smirking as she leaned against the armrest. “You’re only acting like a jealous git.”

Fred scoffed. “Jealous? Please. I just think he’s boring.”

George chuckled. “Yeah, he’s awful. Friendly, charming, loves Quidditch—how dare he?”

Fred scowled but didn’t reply, his gaze fixed on the door you’d just walked through.

When you and Andrew returned, the evening had mostly calmed down. Fred kept to himself, though his eyes followed you whenever you weren’t looking.

As the group began to disband for the night, Andrew turned to you, his smile warm and easy. “I had a great time the other night. Do you think you’d want to do it again? Soon?”

Fred’s head snapped up at Andrew’s words, but he quickly looked away, pretending to fidget with his deck of cards.

You hesitated, your gaze flickering to Fred for just a moment. His usual grin was gone, replaced by a furrowed brow and averted eyes. Ignoring him and the little voice in the back of your mind, you turned back to Andrew.

“Sure,” you said with a smile. “I’d like that.”

Andrew’s grin widened. “Great. I’ll find you tomorrow to figure out the details.”

You nodded, and as Andrew left, you glanced back at Fred one last time. He was shuffling his cards with unnecessary force, avoiding your gaze entirely. Weird.

Over the next couple of weeks, your relationship with Andrew began to take shape. Slowly but surely, he worked his way into your life.

He wasn’t overly pushy or demanding, which you appreciated, and he had a way of making you laugh—though not quite as effortlessly as Fred could.

Still, it felt nice to have someone show genuine interest in you, even if the spark you were hoping for wasn’t quite there yet.

Of course, Andrew didn’t just win you over—he charmed everyone.

“Well, he’s bloody polite,” George said one evening after Andrew left the common room. “And he brought snacks. Can’t argue with that.”

Angelina nodded in agreement. “He’s sweet. You picked a good one.”

“Of course she did,” Fred muttered, slumping lower in his chair.

Lee gave Fred a side-eye. “You alright, mate? You’ve been acting off lately.”

“I’m fine,” Fred said quickly, grabbing a deck of cards and shuffling them with unnecessary vigor. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Lee raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further.

The thing was, Fred wasn’t fine.

He didn’t know what it was about Andrew that rubbed him the wrong way. Maybe it was how the bloke always seemed to be around now, sitting beside you in the common room or leaning in too close when you laughed at one of his jokes.

Fred told himself it was just the newness of it all. You’d always been his person—his partner-in-crime, his go-to for pranks, his late-night snack accomplice. And now Andrew was stealing you away.

It was irritating.

But Fred wasn’t jealous. Definitely not.

One afternoon, the group decided to head down to the lake to take advantage of the rare sunny weather.

Andrew and George carried the food, Angelina and Lee brought the blankets, and you walked ahead with Fred, your pace slowing as you chatted.

“So,” Fred said casually, kicking a stone along the path, “how’s Prince Charming?”

You gave him a look. “He has a name, you know.”

“Right. Andy.”

“Andrew,” you corrected, rolling your eyes.

“Same thing,” Fred said with a shrug.

You sighed. “He’s fine. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Fred said, though his tone was anything but casual. “Just wondering how long he plans to stick around.”

“Why? You planning to scare him off?” you asked, your voice teasing but laced with curiosity.

Fred grinned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Before you could respond, Andrew called your name from behind, jogging to catch up with you.

Fred fell silent, his jaw tightening as Andrew slipped into step beside you, his hand brushing yours as he walked.

By the time you reached the lake, Fred was thoroughly annoyed.

As everyone settled on the blankets, Andrew took the spot beside you, leaning close to whisper something that made you laugh. Fred sat across from you, stabbing at his sandwich with unnecessary force.

“You alright there, Fred?” Angelina asked, nudging him with her foot.

“Fine,” Fred said tightly, taking an aggressive bite.

George smirked. “You know, for someone who doesn’t care, you’re awfully bothered.”

Fred glared at his twin but said nothing.

As the sun began to set, Andrew offered to walk you back to the castle, and you accepted with a smile. Fred watched the two of you leave, his chest tightening as your laughter faded into the distance.

“Mate,” George said, clapping Fred on the shoulder. “You’ve got it bad.”

Fred scowled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” George said with a knowing grin.

If there was one thing Fred Weasley prided himself on, it was his ability to remain unshakable. Cool under pressure. Steady in the face of chaos.

Except, apparently, when Andrew was around.

“I’m just saying,” Fred declared loudly, leaning back in his chair with the kind of dramatic flair that immediately drew everyone’s attention, “no one is that nice. It’s suspicious.”

“Suspicious?” Angelina repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Absolutely,” Fred said, gesturing wildly as if this were common knowledge. “No one can laugh at every single joke. Even George’s bad ones.”

“Oi!” George protested, though he was grinning. “My jokes are masterpieces.”

Andrew, seated comfortably next to you, chuckled. “I don’t know, George. That one about the Blast-Ended Skrewts last week was a bit of a stretch.”

Fred’s eyes narrowed. “See? Right there. He’s even polite when he’s being critical. Who does that?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. “Fred, are you really mad because Andrew is nice?”

“I’m not mad!” Fred insisted, though his tone suggested otherwise. “I’m just… observant. He’s too nice. It’s unnatural.”

“Fred,” Lee said, struggling to keep a straight face, “I think you might be allergic to decent human behavior.”

The group erupted in laughter, and for a moment, even you couldn’t hide your amusement. But Fred wasn’t done yet.

“Mark my words,” Fred continued, pointing dramatically at Andrew, “this whole ‘charming and perfect’ act is going to crack one day. And when it does—”

Andrew held up his hands, laughing lightly. “Alright, you’ve got me. I’ll admit it: I burned toast once. Twice, actually. Sometimes I even leave the cap off the toothpaste.”

“Oh, the horror,” Lee said, clutching his chest mockingly. “Fred, are you sure we’re safe in his presence?”

Fred scowled, muttering something under his breath.

You shot him a look, your patience wearing thin. “Fred, if you’re so bothered by something, maybe you should do something about it.”

Fred blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in your tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You shrugged, standing to grab a glass of water. “Exactly what it sounds like.”

Fred watched you leave the room, the weight of your words settling uncomfortably in his chest.

“What’s her problem?” he muttered, glancing at the others.

Angelina snorted. “You’re joking, right?”

Fred frowned. “What?”

George exchanged a look with Lee, barely containing his laughter. “Oh, nothing,” George said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m sure it has nothing to do with you acting like a jealous prat every time Andrew breathes in her direction.”

“I’m not jealous!” Fred shot back, his voice a little too loud.

“Sure you’re not,” Lee said, patting him on the shoulder.

Angelina leaned forward, her smirk practically glowing. “Fred, has it ever occurred to you that you’re not mad at Andrew? You’re mad because he’s with her, and you’re not.”

Fred opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. He shut it again, glaring at the lot of them as they burst into laughter.

“Honestly,” George said, shaking his head. “I’ve seen Blast-Ended Skrewts with more self-awareness.”

Fred groaned, burying his face in his hands. “You’re all useless,” he muttered.

“Hey, we’re just here to point out the obvious,” Lee said with a grin. “The rest is up to you, lover boy.”

&

The Three Broomsticks was warm and bustling with chatter, the kind of lively atmosphere that could distract anyone from their troubles.

Fred leaned back in his chair, nursing a mug of butterbeer, and let the noise wash over him.

It had been weeks since he’d felt this at ease. For once, he wasn’t thinking about Andrew or the way he seemed to occupy every spare moment of your time.

Because, for the first time in a long while, it was just the group—George, Lee, Angelina, you, and him—laughing, joking, and bickering like always. And with you sitting across from him, grinning over the rim of your butterbeer as you teased George about his latest failed prank, Fred felt… content.

Comfortable. Like everything was back to normal.

But then the door to the pub opened, letting in a gust of cold air and a familiar figure.

Fred’s stomach twisted the moment he saw Andrew.

“Hey, everyone,” Andrew said, his smile easy and confident as he approached the table.

Fred tried to focus on his drink, on George cracking a joke, on literally anything else—but then Andrew leaned down, his hand brushing your shoulder, and kissed you.

It wasn’t long, just a brief, casual kiss on the lips, but it might as well have been a Bludger to Fred’s chest.

The laughter at the table carried on, the others welcoming Andrew like they always did, but Fred barely heard a word. His mind was spinning, his heart racing, and for the first time, he couldn’t keep up the denial.

It wasn’t just irritation. It wasn’t just protectiveness.

It was jealousy.

Pure, undeniable jealousy.

And it wasn’t just because Andrew had you—it was because Fred wanted you.

The realization hit him like a brick wall. Every time you laughed at Andrew’s jokes, every time you brushed his hand with yours, every time you smiled at him with that soft, affectionate look in your eyes—it burned.

Because Fred wanted to be the one making you laugh, holding your hand, earning your smiles.

But it wasn’t him. And now, sitting here, watching Andrew slide into the seat beside you, his arm draped casually over the back of your chair, Fred finally understood why it hurt so much.

&

Fred paced the length of the Gryffindor common room like a man possessed, his hands raking through his hair as George, Angelina, and Lee lounged on the sofa, watching with varying degrees of amusement.

“She kissed him,” Fred muttered for the fiftieth time, his voice tinged with both disbelief and frustration.

“Yes, Fred,” Angelina said patiently, not bothering to hide her smirk. “We were all there. You don’t need to recap.”

“But—” Fred turned on his heel, his expression wild. “How did I not see it before? How did none of you tell me?”

George snorted. “Mate, we’ve been dropping hints for years. You’re just thick.”

“Excuse me?” Fred stopped pacing long enough to glare at his twin.

Lee chimed in, grinning. “He’s right, you know. It’s been painfully obvious to everyone but you. Honestly, we were starting to think you’d never figure it out.”

Fred groaned, collapsing into a chair and burying his face in his hands. “What am I supposed to do now? She’s happy with Andrew. I can’t just…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“You could do nothing,” Angelina suggested, crossing her arms. “Let her be happy. Maybe keep your mouth shut for once in your life.”

Fred glared at her. “Thanks for the support, Ang. Really helpful.”

“I’m just saying,” Angelina continued, shrugging. “If you care about her, maybe you don’t ruin things for her. It’s not about you, Fred.”

George tilted his head. “Or—and hear me out—you could tell her how you feel and let her decide.”

Lee grinned. “Or—and this is my favorite option—you stage an elaborate prank to scare off Andrew, then swoop in as the knight in shining armor.”

Fred groaned again, throwing his head back against the chair. “You’re all useless.”

“Hey, I’m giving you options,” Lee said defensively.

“Yeah,” George added. “And Angelina’s just saying what she’d do if she were you. Personally, I think you should grow a pair and tell her the truth.”

Fred shot him a look. “It’s not that simple.”

“It never is,” Angelina said, her tone softer now. “But you’ve got to figure it out, Fred. Otherwise, you’re just going to keep driving yourself—and the rest of us—mad.”

The sound of the portrait hole opening drew their attention, and there you were, stepping inside with your bag slung over one shoulder and a slight frown on your face.

Fred’s heart skipped a beat, and he immediately sat up straighter, trying to look normal—which, of course, only made him look even more suspicious.

“Everything okay?” you asked, glancing between the group and Fred’s suspiciously guilty expression.

“Fine!” Fred said quickly, his voice a little too loud.

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t push, instead walking over to your usual spot by the fire. You dropped your bag on the floor and pulled out a stack of parchment, rifling through it with a small, frustrated sigh.

Fred couldn’t take his eyes off you. It wasn’t anything special—just you being you—but the way your hair caught the firelight, the tiny furrow in your brow as you concentrated, the way you bit your lip when something didn’t go right…

In that moment, Fred knew.

Knew that no one else would ever make him feel the way you did. Knew that no one else would ever measure up to you. Knew that he couldn’t keep this to himself anymore.

Now he just had to figure out how to tell you.

“Merlin, he’s gone,” George muttered, nudging Angelina. “Look at him.”

Fred ignored them, his mind racing as he tried to think of something—anything—to say. But for once in his life, words failed him.

Fred had never been one to overthink things. Usually, he went with his gut, said whatever was on his mind, and dealt with the consequences later. But when it came to you, every plan he came up with seemed doomed from the start.

The first time he tried, it was on the way to Charms. He’d spotted you walking ahead, your bag slung over one shoulder and your hair bouncing as you moved. His heart did that stupid thing where it sped up, and before he could stop himself, he called your name.

“Hey,” you said, slowing to let him catch up.

“Hey,” he replied, suddenly feeling like his tongue had turned to lead.

You smiled at him, that warm, easy smile that made his chest ache. “What’s up?”

Fred opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, Andrew appeared from the other direction.

“There you are,” Andrew said, grinning as he slipped an arm around your waist.

Fred’s jaw clenched, but he forced a smile. “Right. See you in class,” he mumbled, walking off before either of you could reply.

The second attempt came during a group study session in the library.

Fred had been unusually quiet, his eyes darting to you every few seconds. You were sitting across from him, absently twirling your quill as you read over your notes.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, leaning forward.

You looked up, tilting your head. “Yeah?”

“I—”

“Shh!” Madam Pince hissed from across the room, glaring at Fred like he’d just set one of her precious books on fire.

Fred sighed, leaning back in his chair as George smirked beside him. “Smooth,” George muttered under his breath.

The third time wasn’t even his fault.

He’d waited until you were alone in the common room, curled up in your usual chair by the fire. It was late, and most of the others had gone to bed, leaving the room quiet and cozy.

Fred took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair as he approached. “Hey, can we talk?”

You looked up at him, your expression soft but curious. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

Fred hesitated, the words hanging on the tip of his tongue. This was it. He just had to say it.

But before he could, Lee burst into the room, laughing loudly about something George had apparently done. The noise startled both of you, and whatever fragile moment had been building between you vanished in an instant.

Fred sighed, watching as you smiled politely at Lee’s antics before heading upstairs to your dorm.

Meanwhile, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

Andrew was as kind and attentive as ever, but your heart wasn’t fully in it. You caught yourself zoning out during conversations, your mind drifting to memories of late-night laughs and pranks with Fred.

Andrew noticed.

“You’ve been a bit distant lately,” he said one evening as you sat together by the lake. His tone was calm but serious, his eyes searching yours.

“I’m sorry,” you said quickly, though you weren’t sure what you were apologizing for.

Andrew smiled faintly, shaking his head. “We should talk. Really talk.”

You nodded, your stomach twisting with unease and the underlying feeling of already knowing what was about to come.

&

The rain fell steadily, soaking through your cloak and chilling you to the bone, but you didn’t care. After your conversation with Andrew, you’d needed space to think, to feel, to breathe.

That was why you stayed in the same spot he left you in, even when it began to pour.

But tonight, the storm wasn’t just inside.

The sound of footsteps on the dock pulled you from your thoughts, and you turned to see Fred, his red hair plastered to his forehead and water dripping from his clothes.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice carrying over the rain.

Fred shoved his hands into his pockets, looking equal parts frustrated and relieved. “I could ask you the same thing.”

You shrugged, turning your gaze back to the water. “Needed to think.”

Fred hesitated, then stepped closer, the wood creaking under his weight. “And you couldn’t think inside? Where it’s dry?”

You huffed a laugh, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “Guess not.”

An awkward silence stretched between you as the rain continued to fall. Fred shifted on his feet, clearly trying to work up the courage to say something.

He hadn’t planned this, hadn’t thought through what he wanted to say.

“You’re really something, you know that?” he blurted finally, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “You’re out here in the rain, and I’m the idiot who followed you, and… Merlin, I don’t even know where to start.”

You raised an eyebrow, your expression guarded. “Then don’t.”

Fred shook his head. “No, I have to. Because—because you drive me mad. You’re all I can think about, and it’s infuriating because I don’t even know when it started, but it’s just… there. All the time.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the raw honesty in his voice.

“You know, Andrew is… perfect, really. Kind, understanding. Says all the right things. And he’s right. He’s everything I should want.”

Fred’s jaw tightened, but he kept his voice steady. “If he’s so perfect, then why are you out here? With me?”

The words hit like a punch to the gut, and you blinked, suddenly unable to meet his gaze.

“Why, if Andrew’s so perfect, are you standing out here in the rain with me instead of him?” Fred pressed, his voice soft but insistent.

Your chest ached, and before you could stop yourself, the truth spilled out. “Because he’s not you, Fred! He never was.”

Fred stared at you, his breath hitching as your words sank in.

You laughed bitterly, swiping at your wet face. “Andrew is kind and caring and everything I should want. But it doesn’t matter, because he’s not you. And that’s why we ended things. He knows he’s not the one I want to be with.”

Fred didn’t move for a moment, as though your words had stunned him. His wide eyes searched yours, raindrops slipping down his face, mingling with the uncertainty you saw flicker there.

But then, something shifted. Determination sparked in his gaze, and in one swift motion, he stepped forward, closing the distance between you. His hands, rough yet gentle, cupped your face, his thumbs brushing against your rain-damp cheeks.

The kiss came like a thunderclap—fierce, overwhelming, impossible to ignore. His lips claimed yours with a desperation that stole the breath from your lungs, as though this was the only way he could make you understand everything he couldn’t say.

The rain blurred everything around you—the trees, the lake, the world itself—but Fred’s warmth anchored you. His hands trembled slightly against your skin, betraying the vulnerability beneath his boldness.

A soft gasp escaped you as your fingers curled into the fabric of his soaked shirt, pulling him closer instinctively. The rain had drenched you both, but Fred’s heat seeped through the layers, making you feel like nothing else mattered.

His lips moved against yours, earnest and unrelenting, as though he feared you might slip away if he didn’t hold on tightly enough. And yet, there was no demand in his kiss, only a raw, aching need that left you dizzy.

When you finally broke apart, gasping for air, Fred rested his forehead against yours, his breath ragged. His hands stayed on your face, as if letting go would break the fragile moment between you.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice hoarse but firm, his thumb brushing away the rain—or was it a tear?—from your cheek. “Forgive me?”

The rain continued to fall, cold and relentless, but it didn’t matter. Fred’s eyes searched yours, unguarded and full of something that made your chest ache.

“Always,” you whispered, your voice trembling but resolute.

Fred’s lips curved into the faintest smile before he kissed you again, softer this time but no less consuming.

From a distance, George and Lee watched from the cover of a nearby tree, Angelina holding an umbrella over them with a triumphant smirk.

“Told you,” George said smugly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Lee muttered, crossing his arms, but not before handing George the bag. “I still say it’s weird to bet on your brother’s love life.”

“Not when it’s this predictable,” Angelina chimed in, snatching a Galleon from the bag. “You’re welcome, by the way. I made this happen.”

“You did nothing,” George said, rolling his eyes. “They’re just idiots. Idiots in love.”

[the-anime-hermit---mus-musculus]

Bro this is exactly the way I felt, I made a post asking if it was OK to like dandadan, and that's mostly because this is the first show I've watched with this kind of stuff so shamelessly shown,(and I am relatively new to anime) as well as ppl just saying that waht is shown is really icky, so I feelt like it was wrong to enjoy it, but i will NEVER EVER pull up dandadan to ogle animated tenagers in there underwear, and no other normal ppl who like the show would do that either. I think you are 100% right. And if the characters in their underwear and half naked are making you hot and bothered, you are kinda the problem 🖐💀

[It is fine if it makes you uncomfortable, everyone has a different tolerance for nudity, and you don't have to watch it!!! I just don't think ppl should feel shame for likeing it in a normal way]

This is my post

And these were some of the amazing responses I got in the comments:

Annnnnd to cap off this massive post, dandadan actually kinda has helped me become more comfortable with the human body and not viewing skin as "Oh noooOOo you can't show that! Not around MEN!" Like even around guys I'm comfortable with, but now I feel like, I don't ogle ppl's exposed bodies, and the people I am comfortable with aren't going to be creepy either, so there is not a reason to be so scared about it.

“is it ok to like dandadan”

“can i still like dandadan even if its problematic”

“it features minors in their underwear therefore it is bad”

do you all sit in a perfectly white room eating saltines and watching bluey all day or something

nah but for real

it is ok to enjoy things you like to watch/read and engage with. there is nothing to be ashamed of in that regard. also dandadan is extremely tame and literally i feel like people blow its themes WAY out of proportion.

“there are teens in their underpants!!! or naked sometimes!!” i think this may be controversial to say but im about to blow your mind….. the fact that there are teens in their undies or even naked doesnt equate to sexualization! we arent supposed to find those scenes sexy. we are supposed to be either embarrassed for them (like the scene where okarun and momo are caught in the hallway), or its played for laughs. never is it meant to be taken in a “sexy” kind of way. like we arent really given a lot of male gaze scenes of momo or aira, and when okarun is naked/in his undergarments, its often played EXCLUSIVELY for comedic effect

i think you all are genuinely afraid to be cancelled/shunned just for liking a fictional/animated show that features partial nudity of 16-17 year olds. and that is a little sad to me! if you like the show for its storytelling and characters and whatnot, then go ahead and like it!!!!

LMAO i feel like im defending this show with my life every time i bring it up

[wqnwoos]

mistletoe / lee chan x f!reader / for @bitchlessdino

On December 23rd, Chan decides he’s going to tell you the truth. The whole, entire truth, the one that nestles warm and aching in the cage of his ribs and sometimes forces its way into his throat, or sends swooping sensations down to the bottom of his stomach — that truth. Chan decides he’s going to tell you that truth, he’s going to tell you everything, for a number of reasons; for five reasons, specifically. 

reason one — first snow. Chan has never really been a superstitious person, but snow came early this year, and it came when he was with you. It’d just been another cold, dark November day, and Chan had felt everything but; he was warm and full and a little bit tipsy, maybe, but it was the weekend, and he was with you. That required at least a little liquid courage, to get through dinner with you and a couple other friends in some hole-in-the-wall, sat opposite you as you laughed under the dim yellow lighting. And then he was offering you a ride home with his driver, because it’s on my way, and he’d only grinned sheepishly when you’d frowned and said no it isn’t, but you’d accepted anyway. 

The snow starts falling as he walks you to the door of your building. You’re halfway through a laugh because of some dumb joke he’s made, and he’s feeling like the entire world is in the palm of his hand because of your laugh, and then you both realise snowflakes are falling at the same time. Chan’s not a superstitious person, but when he looks at you underneath the midnight sky and the floating snowflakes, he hopes there’s some sort of truth to it all.

reason two — his name. When you first met him, you asked him if he preferred Chan or Dino or something else and he’d never really had a preference until that exact moment. Something about the way you say his name has made his insides go molten since his very first time meeting you, a friend of a friend at a birthday party. He’s never fallen so fast and so hard as he did that day, seeing you carrying a candle-lit cake for your friend, smiling that smile of yours. Somehow, he didn’t make that clear enough to both himself and to you, and instead of making a move, asking you out, the two of you ended up friends – friends for close to two years now. Chan had thought (hoped) that his initial crush would fade; instead, it only became stronger with each passing day.

reason three — he almost has. Every time he sees you, it nearly slips; it waits at the tip of his tongue. He’s almost told you at least four times, barely managing to catch himself at the last second. Chan can’t keep a secret to save his life, and keeping this one has been the heaviest thing he’s had to carry for a long time. Of course, Seungkwan knows, because Seungkwan’s friends with you too, and he’s too perceptive for his own good. A couple of his other friends and members have suspicions, about some vague person he has a soft spot for. But nobody really knows, and Chan is tired of not telling people. He’s tired of not telling you.

reason four — he wants to. You’re the nicest person he knows. If you’re going to let him down, you’re going to let him down so gently Chan thinks he’ll barely even feel it. Rationally speaking, there’s not a universe where you make him feel bad about anything, let alone this. He doesn’t exactly enjoy being pitied, but something tells him that’s not you anyway. Really, this whole thing is equal parts hope and a desperate need for closure. An outright rejection could be better than the maybes that keep him awake at night.

reason five — which is what everything boils down to, really. It’s you.

And so Chan goes to Seungkwan’s annual house party on December 23rd with his mind fully made up: he’s going to tell you. He’s going to tell you that he’s had a ridiculously huge crush on you for two years, and he’s really tried to get over it, and he thinks you’re the most wonderful thing that ever happened to him. And somewhere in there, he’s gotta sneak in the Christmas gift he got you, despite you telling him every year not to.

It turns out, once he gets there, that telling you is much harder than expected. Seungkwan’s outdone himself this year, decorations strewn around the apartment he shares with Jeonghan, making everything look warm and festive and cosy, and then there’s you in the middle of it. When he arrives, a little late because of all the pep talks he had to give himself in front of the mirror, you’re carrying a candlelit cake. Just like the day he first met you.

His breath catches in his throat, and he thinks, just quickly, that he’ll never be able to get over you. And then he’s pushing the thought away, greeting his friends, settling in his usual place by your side. The same as every year, only this time his mind is on one thing, and one thing only.

He decides to wait until the end to do it; heartbreak isn’t particularly festive, and he’s sure Seungkwan wouldn’t appreciate the damper on his party. But the night seems to stretch forever, and the anxious pit in his stomach doesn’t help in the slightest. Neither does the fact that his eyes are constantly glued to you: you throwing your head back to laugh, you asking him in a soft undertone if he’s okay, you squeezing his hand when he promises he’s fine. 

You both end up leaving at the same time, and Chan takes his opportunity when he sees it. He’s been waiting too long to let it slip through his fingers, but when he’s face to face with you under the fairy lights in Seungkwan’s hallway, he can’t quite choke words out. He’s rehearsed this – multiple times – but the moment he looks at your expectant eyes, he goes blank.

“Chan?” You laugh a little teasingly at his abrupt silence. “Did you forget what you were going to say?”

“Not – not quite.” He knows what he wants to say. He doesn’t know how to say it. (I’m very nearly in love with you, he thinks hopelessly. The words don’t come out.)

Your eyes flick upward for a second, lingering above you both. “Look,” you say softly. He doesn’t shift his gaze from your face. “Mistletoe.”

And then you kiss him. 

this is for @bitchlessdino as part of cam and em’s a very seventeen christmas secret santa 2024!!!! surprise nana i hope u like it 💗💗 merry christmas to everyone who’s celebrating, and i hope everyone else is having a wonderful holiday/week/life.

thank you to @highvern for making the gift tag banners and letting me use ur actually the best. and thank you @haologram for making me post.

perm taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @glowunderthemoon

@wondering-out-loud @tokitosun @hannyoontify @sahazzy

@dokyeomin @icyminghao @smilehui @nicholasluvbot @lvlystars

@immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts @astrozuya @doublasting

@yepimthatonequirkyteenager @qaramu @weird-bookworm @phenomenalgirl9

@lightnjng @strnsvt @onlyyjeonghan @athanasiasakura

@iamawkwardandshy @twilghtkoo @yuuyeonie @lllucere

@pearlesscentt

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[littlelamy]

𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓪 𝓫𝓪𝓫𝔂, 𝓪 𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓹𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓮

rafe x barry x reader!!

author's note: i know it’s a little early but merry christmas!🎄 and happy holidays to those who don’t celebrate christmas! ❄️ i’m so thankful for all the love i’ve received from my christmas posts this year—it truly means the world to me. i’m beyond grateful to have such kind, supportive mutuals, and so much love from each of you. thank you for being here, and for all your comments, dms, and reblogs! wishing all of you the best for the rest of the season.

it started with a text.

barry: party at mine tonight. bring that pretty ass.

you rolled your eyes when it came through—typical barry, always one step away from being inappropriate—but a smile tugged at your lips anyway. you were used to it by now, the way barry talked, the way he and rafe moved around you like wolves in a lazy orbit.

they were your friends. dangerous, maybe, but never to you.

so, you threw on a pair of jeans and a tight little sweater—something that hugged your curves, though you told yourself you weren’t dressing for them. the trailer park wasn’t exactly the place for your nicest clothes, but you still wanted to look good.

it was christmas eve, after all.

barry’s trailer was a mess of christmas chaos when you got there. lights blinked erratically from every surface, half a tree sat in the corner, and the smell of cheap beer mixed with pine-scented candles in a way that shouldn’t have worked—but somehow did.

rafe was already there, sprawled out on the couch with a beer in hand, his long legs kicked up on the coffee table like he owned the place. he glanced up when you walked in, and his lips curled into a lazy smirk.

“well, look who it is.”

“shut up,” you shot back, rolling your eyes.

rafe laughed under his breath, taking another swig from his bottle. his eyes lingered on you longer than necessary, trailing over your sweater and jeans like he was cataloging every curve.

barry appeared a second later, stepping out of the kitchen with his own beer dangling between two fingers. his grin widened when he saw you.

“there’s our girl,” he drawled, his tone syrupy-sweet. “thought you weren’t gonna show.”

“and miss this disaster of a christmas party? no way.”

barry barked out a laugh, motioning for you to sit. “c’mon, make yourself comfortable. we’ve been waitin’ for you.”

something about the way he said it—we’ve been waitin’ for you—made a shiver crawl up your spine, though you quickly pushed it away.

they were just being them.

the night started simple enough.

barry kept shoving drinks into your hand, though you only sipped at them, not wanting to get sloppy. rafe was quieter than usual, though his eyes never left you for long, the weight of his gaze always hovering just at the edge of your awareness.

the three of you sat around the couch, the music low and the lights dim. barry cracked jokes, rafe added his own snarky commentary, and you felt yourself relaxing—laughing, leaning back into the cushions, letting yourself melt into the easy comfort of their company.

but as the night stretched on, things shifted.

the silences between jokes grew longer, heavier.

barry’s gaze lingered a little too long when he handed you another drink, his fingers brushing against yours on purpose. rafe sat closer than he needed to, his arm stretched lazily behind you on the couch.

it was subtle at first—the touches, the looks, the heat slowly building between you.

you tried to ignore it.

they’re just messing with me, you thought. they always do this.

but then barry leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, and said something that made your heart stutter.

“you ever think about us?”

you blinked. “what?”

barry’s grin was lazy, dangerous. “me and rafe. you ever think about us?”

the room went still.

your pulse picked up, heart thudding hard in your chest. “what are you talking about?”

rafe shifted beside you, his fingers curling against the back of the couch. “you know what he’s talkin’ about, baby.”

baby. the word sent a jolt through you, low and warm, settling somewhere deep in your stomach.

“you’re drunk,” you said, trying to laugh it off.

“we’re not drunk,” barry replied smoothly. “we’re just done pretendin’.”

“pretending what?”

rafe’s hand dropped to your shoulder, the weight of it warm and firm as he leaned closer, his voice a low murmur in your ear.

“pretending we don’t know what you want.”

your breath caught.

what i want?

barry’s grin widened when he saw the way you froze, his gaze dropping to the rise and fall of your chest.

“c’mon, sweetheart,” he said, his voice a slow drawl. “we’ve seen the way you look at us. the way you squirm when we get close.”

“i don’t—”

“don’t lie to us,” rafe cut in, his hand sliding down to rest on your thigh.

your skin burned beneath his touch, even through the denim of your jeans.

“we’ve been real patient,” barry said, his tone still teasing but laced with something darker—something dangerous.“waitin’ for you to figure it out on your own. but we’re done waitin’.”

you swallowed hard, your heart racing as you looked between them.

they’re messing with me, you thought again. they have to be.

but the heat in their eyes said otherwise.

rafe’s hand squeezed your thigh gently—just enough to make you feel it.

“you trust us, don’t you?” he asked softly.

the question hung heavy in the air, and you hated how quickly your resolve cracked. because the truth was—you did trust them.

you didn’t know when it had happened, or how, but somewhere along the way, barry and rafe had become your safe place. your friends. your boys.

and now they were looking at you like they wanted to devour you whole.

barry leaned back against the couch, spreading his legs wide as he ran a hand over his jaw, watching you carefully.

“so what’s it gonna be, sweetheart?” he asked. “you gonna let us give you a christmas to remember?”

you hesitated, your breath catching in your throat.

rafe’s thumb brushed slow circles against your thigh, his voice dropping to a murmur.

“say yes, baby. just say yes.”

you couldn’t breathe.

the weight of their words, the intensity of their eyes—it was too much.

“this isn’t funny,” you said, though your voice lacked conviction.

barry chuckled, low and dark, the sound rumbling in his chest like thunder. “who said we were laughin’, sweetheart?”

rafe’s hand on your thigh stayed steady, warm and possessive, like he was claiming you piece by piece. he leaned in closer, his breath fanning against your ear.

“we’re serious, baby. dead serious.”

your heart raced, and you felt like you were sinking—like you were being pulled into something you weren’t sure you could get out of. but the worst part? you didn’t want to stop it.

not really.

you glanced between them—barry, with his sharp grin and predatory gaze, and rafe, with his lazy confidence and quiet intensity. they were so different, yet so alike in the way they looked at you, like you were theirs.

“what do you want from me?” you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

barry tilted his head, his grin softening into something almost sweet.

“we want you to stop fightin’ it,” he said. “stop pretendin’ you don’t want this.”

“and what is this, exactly?”

rafe’s fingers slid higher on your thigh, his touch light but deliberate, sending heat pooling low in your stomach.

“this,” he murmured. “us. you. everything we’ve been waiting for.”

you shivered. “you’re insane.”

“maybe,” barry agreed easily, his grin returning. “but you like it, don’t you?”

you didn’t answer, because you couldn’t—not when the truth was written all over your face.

rafe leaned back slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. “c’mere,” he said softly, tugging gently at your thigh.

“what—”

“c’mere, baby,” he repeated, his voice coaxing, almost gentle.

your body moved before your brain caught up, letting rafe guide you into his lap. you straddled him awkwardly, your hands bracing against his shoulders as you tried to ignore the way his body felt beneath you—strong, solid, warm.

barry whistled low, his grin sharp as he watched. “now that’s a sight.”

“shut up, barry,” you muttered, though your voice wavered.

rafe’s hands settled on your waist, his grip firm but careful, like he was holding something delicate. his eyes searched yours, softer than before—softer than you expected.

“you’re okay,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. “just trust us, yeah?”

your breath caught. you didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you just nodded.

rafe’s lips curled into a small smile, and then—slowly, carefully—he leaned in and kissed you.

it wasn’t what you expected.

you thought rafe cameron would kiss like he lived—reckless, wild, and dangerous. but this? this was different. it was slow and deliberate, his lips soft against yours, like he was taking his time, savoring every second.

your fingers curled into his shoulders, holding onto him as the kiss deepened. his tongue traced your bottom lip, coaxing you to open up for him, and you did—letting him in, letting him take.

barry’s voice broke through the haze, low and teasing.

“don’t forget about me, sweetheart.”

you pulled back from rafe, your lips swollen and your breath shaky as you turned to look at barry. he was still sprawled across the couch, but his grin had faded slightly, replaced by something darker—something hungry.

“get over here,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument.

you hesitated, glancing back at rafe, who simply smirked, his hands still resting on your waist.

“go on, baby,” he murmured. “don’t keep him waiting.”

your heart pounded as you slid off rafe’s lap, your legs unsteady as you made your way to barry. he watched you the whole time, his gaze heavy, his smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

when you reached him, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you down onto his lap in one quick motion. you gasped softly, your hands landing on his chest as you steadied yourself.

“there we go,” barry murmured, his voice low and smooth. “that’s better, ain’t it?”

you swallowed hard, your pulse racing as barry’s hands settled on your hips, his grip rougher than rafe’s.

“you look good here,” he said, his gaze dropping to your lips. “real good.”

you opened your mouth to respond—to say what, you didn’t know—but barry didn’t give you the chance.

he kissed you hard, his lips crashing against yours with none of rafe’s earlier softness. it was all teeth and tongue, rough and demanding, like he was trying to claim you right then and there.

you whimpered softly against him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he pulled you closer, his hands sliding up your back, over your sides, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

when he finally pulled back, you were breathless, your head spinning as you looked up at him.

barry grinned, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

“knew you’d taste sweet,” he said.

you barely had time to process his words before rafe was behind you, his hands sliding up your arms, over your shoulders, until he was gently pulling you back against his chest.

“see, baby?” rafe murmured in your ear, his voice low and coaxing. “this is what we’ve been waitin’ for.”

you shivered, your body caught between the two of them—the heat of rafe behind you, barry in front of you, their hands and lips and words pulling you deeper into something you couldn’t escape.

but the worst part?

you didn’t want to escape.

you were caught.

you didn’t know when or how it happened, but somewhere between rafe’s soft whispers and barry’s hungry gaze, you had fallen in too deep.

and now? now, you couldn’t seem to find a way out.

rafe’s lips pressed against your neck, his breath hot against your skin, sending a shiver through your body. he was always so controlled—so calm. but tonight? tonight, he was losing himself.

his hands slid down your body, rougher now, as if he couldn’t help himself. you felt the heat of his touch everywhere, like he was marking you with every second you spent in his arms.

“don’t fight it, baby,” rafe whispered, his voice low, almost pleading. “you want this. we both know you do.”

barry’s eyes flicked over to you, his lips curling into a smirk as he leaned back against the couch. “you’re so fucking perfect,” he murmured, almost to himself. “both of you. but especially you, sweetheart.”

you swallowed hard, your body trembling under the weight of their gazes. the air felt thick—almost suffocating—as the two of them continued their slow, deliberate assault on your senses.

“what do you want?” barry’s voice was like velvet, smooth and dangerous. “tell us, baby. tell us what you want.”

you hesitated, the words stuck in your throat. everything inside you screamed to pull away, to push them both out of your life, to regain control. but there was another part of you—the part that ached for their touch, their attention, their everything—that didn’t want to leave.

“i… i don’t know,” you whispered, your voice shaking.

rafe’s lips curled into a slow smile as he leaned down to whisper in your ear, his breath hot and needy. “we’ll help you figure it out, baby. don’t worry.”

his hands slid to the waistband of your jeans, fingers brushing lightly over the fabric, teasing and light.

barry’s eyes never left you as rafe’s fingers worked at the button. “you’re so fucking tempting,” he muttered. “can’t wait to see you bare for us.”

the words made your pulse spike, heat pooling between your legs as your breath caught in your throat.

before you could even register what was happening, rafe’s hands were slipping beneath your jeans, pulling them down, his fingers lightly grazing your skin as he exposed you piece by piece.

you gasped, feeling the vulnerability of it all—the way they were undressing you without a word, the way you were letting them.

barry pushed himself off the couch, his hands moving to your waist, spinning you around so that you were facing him now. his eyes were dark, filled with something primal as he took in your body, your exposed skin.

“you’re fucking beautiful,” he growled, leaning down to kiss you hard, his hands trailing up your thighs.

you whimpered against him, your hands grasping at his shirt, pulling him closer as you deepened the kiss. there was no control left—just raw, desperate need.

rafe’s hand slid up your back, pulling you closer to him as he kissed your shoulder. “don’t forget about me, baby,” he murmured. “we’re not done yet.”

you couldn’t remember a time when you’d felt so alive, so wanted, but at the same time, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was all spiraling out of control.

but fuck, it felt good.

barry pulled away from your lips just long enough to yank your shirt over your head, leaving you in nothing but your panties. his gaze flicked down your body, and a dark, dangerous smile spread across his face.

“look at you,” he whispered, his fingers trailing down your chest, teasing your skin. “fucking perfect.”

you couldn’t even respond. your body was on fire, and all you wanted was for them to touch you, to claim you.

rafe’s hands were at your back now, undoing your bra with practiced ease. as the fabric slid away, he kissed your neck, his lips moving down to your collarbone, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

barry watched, his eyes never leaving you as rafe took his time with you, each touch slow and deliberate.

“how does it feel, baby?” barry asked, his voice low, teasing. “to have both of us wanting you? wanting to make you ours?”

the question was too much. you couldn’t think. you couldn’t speak. all you could do was feel—feel their hands on you, their lips on your skin, their voices filling your ears.

“please,” you whimpered, the word falling from your lips without thought. “please, I need—”

“need what?” rafe’s voice was a low growl, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you closer. “tell us, baby. what do you need?”

“you,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “i need you both.”

and that was all it took.

in an instant, they were both on you—hands everywhere, lips everywhere, their bodies pressing you between them as they devoured you.

you didn’t know how it happened, how things spiraled from teasing and tension into full-blown chaos, but it didn’t matter. none of it did.

all that mattered was them, and how fucking badly you wanted to be theirs.

"merry christmas to us," barry smirks, his hand grazing your bare skin as if testing just how soft you feel under his touch. his eyes flick to rafe, whose gaze is already fixed on you, heated and intent, his fingers tracing a lazy pattern along your hip like he’s memorizing every curve.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @aariahnaa @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog

credits to @anitalenia for the divider <3

[cressidagrey]

The moment I could see it - Part 4

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Ariel Cane (Original Character)

Summary: 5 Times that Gianpiero Lambiase thinks that Ariel Cane and Max Verstappen are weirdly similar…and 1 time he is just happy that the two of them are no longer pining after each other. 

Warnings: 

GP's POV, mention of cancer, mention of parent's death

Author Notes: I am back to my old tricks...which means I write from the most random of POV's just because. (I once wrote a chapter from a dog's POV so like, GP doesn't even really count.

Quite frankly… GP had expected fireworks. 

He had expected Max and Ariel to have explosive disagreements. He had expected her to give up 6 months in. He had expected them to clash at every turn. A battle of wills.

What he hadn't expected however...was the fact that the two of them needed less than 2 months to be completely and utterly besotted with each other.

Or Best Friends as they had titled themselves.

They got along creepily well. They didn't have disagreements. Or if they had, then they didn’t have them anywhere GP or any other staff member was privy too. 

Max and Ariel had an almost...terrifying dynamic. It was like they were on the same wave length, like they thought the same things at exactly the same time.

And the way Max would look at her sometimes...

It was like he was mesmerized.

But more than that...Max also actually... listened to her. 

She could say something to him and he would actually stop and think about it. She had a way to say things to him that made the cogs in his brain spin and Max actually reconsidered. It was almost unbelievable.

Max Verstappen: renowned wild child, and international racing car river… Was hanging on the words of a young, attractive girl. Not only hanging on her words, but taking them into account and adjusting his behavior according to them.

GP sometimes wished he could bottle some of that when Max was being unreasonable to him. 

But it seemed to be something that was just…utterly Ariel. 

Ariel who turned the mighty Dutch Lion off the race track into a domesticated kitten that looked at her adoringly and who GP had found more than once in his driver’s room napping with his head in her lap, while Ariel drew her fingernails over his scalp and answered her emails one-handed. 

Max clearly wasn’t the only one who was besotted. 

That was the part that was most concerning to GP. The fact that Ariel seemed to be just as head over heels for Max as Max was for her.

It was a mind-boggling turn of events. Gianpiero still had a bit of trouble wrapping his head around it, and it had been almost one and a half years since these two started working together.

It was crazy. It was insane. It almost felt surreal.

But there was no denying it. Max Verstappen was actually paying attention to Ariel's opinions and advice.

GP still couldn't decide if he was impressed, confused, scared or all of the above.

The rest of the team spent much of the 2020 season not worried about a global pandemic but wondering when the two of them would figure things out. GP had to admit, he and the other members of the team had more pressing things to worry about than the relationship between Max and Ariel. Between dealing with the restrictions and disruptions caused by the global pandemic, as well as Max Verstappen's actual races, there was plenty to worry about.

However, the ongoing...whatever was going on between the two of them was a frequent topic of conversation.

"Do you think they're dating?" one of the mechanics would ask.

"Nah, they're just friends," another one would reply.

"No way, there's something going on there," yet another person would chime in.

The constant chatter and speculation about Max and Ariel's relationship went on for months.

"I bet they're dating in secret," one of the engineers would say.

"Not a chance, they're just friends," a press officer would counter.

"I don't know, they seem pretty cozy together," a member of the marketing team would chime in.

It was like a never-ending game of “guess the relationship status”.

And then... Silverstone 2021 happened.

Gianpiero still winced when he thought about that day. 

It was one of the most intense and stressful races of the season. The mood around the Red Bull team was tense as the race unfolded. Everyone was on edge as they watched Max battle it out with Lewis. And then Max and Lewis Hamilton had come into contact. 

GP watched as the two cars came together at Copse corner, a sickening feeling of dread settling in the pit of his stomach.

The Mercedes was fine. The Red Bull careened into the wall.

GP would never forget those moments after the crash. The seconds that ticked by as they waited for confirmation that Max was alive and conscious. The silence, as everyone in the team held their breath, waiting for news.

He didn’t know how Ariel had reacted to it. He ha been so focused on the radio an the life stream to the accient sight, that Ariel hadn’t been on his mind. 

He did later hear that Ariel had been waiting in the medical tent by the time Max had been brought in there… that she had been in the hospital with him, when they had scanned his brain and sent him back to the hotel with a concussion and bruises but thankfully, gloriously alive…

The next morning he showed up at Max’s hotel room with definitely nutritionist unapproved cinnamon rolls and coffe, because the guy had nearly died, so the least he deserved was a sugar rush. 

Ariel was the one who answered the door.

There, standing in the doorway to Max's hotel room, was Ariel. She wore a simple t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, and her hair was tousled, indicating that she had just woken up.

GP blinked, momentarily taken aback by her presence. "Ariel," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "Is...Max still asleep?" 

He was also quite sure that she was wearing Max‘s shirt because it was too big for her, hanging loosely off her slender frame.

“I would be, but somebody insisted on waking me every hour,” came the grumbling voice of Max from inside the room. 

GP quirked an eyebrow at Ariel, who just rolled her eyes. He couldn't help but notice the look of fondness on Ariel's face even as she rolled her eyes in response.

“Good Morning, GP, I hope you slept well,” she greeted him drily, opening the door for him to enter the room. 

“And just for the record, it was Doctor’s orders because of his concussion,” Ariel explained. 

It made sense, but still...GP couldn’t help but find it slightly amusing that Ariel was the one who was apparently tasked with waking Max up every half-hour.

Max sat on the bed, still looking a bit groggy. He gave GP a sleepy nod in greeting, while Ariel closed the door behind him. 

GP couldn’t help but notice the domesticity of the scene. The two of them just woken up, in Max’s hotel room, and Ariel...wearing Max’s shirt. He returned Max's sleepy nod and turned his gaze towards Ariel, who leaned against the closed door with a fond yet slightly weary expression.

As he observed the domestic scene in front of him, GP couldn’t help but notice how...natural and effortless they seemed together. Max, still weary and in his pajamas, and Ariel, wearing his shirt, standing by his side.

"How are you feeling?" GP inquired, addressing Max. His eyes flicked between the two young people in front of him, trying to gauge the situation.

Max shrugged, running a hand through his messy hair. "Like Lewis Hamilton shunted me into a wall," he replied his voice quiet.

GP gave a sympathetic wince at that. "That bad, huh?"

Max nodded, a grim expression on his face. "Yeah, that bad," he said gruffly. "My head feels like it's been used as a boxing bag, and my back is killing me."

GP grimaced again. "Well, that's to be expected. You took a pretty hard hit."

He paused, studying Max's face for a moment before adding, "I know the doctors said you'll be okay, but you scared us all there for a bit."

Max grunted in acknowledgment, "Yeah, I guess I did." He looked a bit sheepish for a moment before returning his gaze to GP. "Sorry for worrying everyone," he muttered, but there was a hint of humor in his eyes, like he was secretly pleased with the attention.

Gianpiero gave a dry chuckle. "No need to apologize. You didn't plan on getting shunted into a wall, after all."

He glanced around the room, taking in the mess of clothes, blankets, and various medical supplies scattered around the bed.

"Looks like you have a good nurse keeping you company, though," he noted, shooting a look at Ariel.

She was still standing by the door, her head propped up against it lazily, watching the two men with a small, fond smile.

Max's mouth curled into a smirk. "The best nurse there is," he said with a shrug. “Even when she has a horrible bedside manner,” Max added drily. 

"Yeah, and you told me to fuck off," Ariel shot back.

A smirk tugged at the corner of GP’s mouth as he watched the exchange between the two.

Max reached out and patted the bed beside him, signaling for Ariel to sit down. She pushed off the door and padded over, sitting down beside Max and letting him wrap an arm around her.

GP found himself raising an eyebrow at the sight, taking notice of how comfortable and natural the gesture seemed to be for these two.

GP couldn’t deny it; the sight of Max’s arm wrapped around her like it was the most natural thing in the world, didn’t surprise him as much as it should’ve. There was something about their dynamic that was strangely magnetic…and a little disconcerting.

Max grumbled a bit, but there was no heat in his voice. "You deserved it," he muttered. "Who the fuck wakes someone up every hour after a concussion?"

Ariel rolled her eyes, a hint of amused irritation in her tone. "Someone who doesn't want your brain to leak out your ears," she shot back. "And I don't have a horrible bedside manner, you're just a pain in the ass when you're concussed."

Max huffed in mock affront, feigning offense. "I'll have you know, I'm a model patient when I'm concussed," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. GP let out a snort, silently disagreeing with Max's statement.

"Yeah, right," Ariel said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Because a model patient throws a pillow at the person trying to wake them up every hour."

Max shrugged, looking entirely unapologetic. "You shouldn't have said I was being cranky," he said with a sly grin.

Ariel rolled her eyes again, a hint of fond irritation in her expression. "I was only being honest," she said dryly. "You were being grumpy and moody and impossible to deal with."

Max feigned offense once more. "Grumpy and moody?" he repeated, sounding offended. "I wasn't being grumpy and moody! I was just...in pain. And tired."

Ariel shot him a disbelieving glance. "That's just a nice way of saying grumpy and moody," she pointed out. Gianpiero quietly chuckled, finding their banter quite entertaining.

Max pouted, his lower lip sticking out in a pouty expression that would have look silly on most people. On him, it looked...well, adorable. "I was being justifiably grumpy," he protested, and yet there was a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Quite frankly, GP had expected Max to be...well, furious about the crash. About the fact that he had had pole position and would have probably stoo on the podium if not actually won....

GP would’ve been furious if he were in Max’s shoes...but Max wasn’t angry. He seemed more resigned than anything, and strangely...comfortable. GP had to wonder if it was because of Ariel’s presence by his side.

There was something about Max when he was around her, like a transformation from his usual hotheaded, fiery self, to a calmer, gentler version of himself

"You seem surprisingly calm for someone who was on track to win the race before you were shunted off the track," GP noted, fixing Max with a curious glance. "I thought you would be angrier," he said carefully.

GP studied Max curiously, noting the slight wince of pain on his face as he shifted on the bed. Max's response was a nonchalant shrug, coupled with a grimace. "Oh, I am angry," he replied gruffly, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "But somebody really smart has to me, that being pissed off won't change anything. It's not going to un-crash the car or heal my head."

GP couldn’t help but let out a dry chuckle at that. Max’s grumbling response combined with the way he looked so disgruntled and resigned was rather amusing. "Somebody really smart, huh?" he repeated, looking pointedly at Ariel.

Max’s mouth curled into a half-smile, and he shot a sideways glance at Ariel. "Yeah, somebody really smart," he said with a hint of emphasis. Gianpiero noticed the way Max looked at her, a mixture of affection and something else in his eyes.

"And she also reminded me that nothing would hurt Mercedes more than to lose the championship," Max continued. “Looking back won’t help me win either.” 

GP’s eyebrows rose. "So...you're going to win the championship out of spite?" GP inquired, half-joking.

Max shrugged, a wicked grin on his lips. "Why not?" he said, his voice almost nonchalant. "If it'll really piss Mercedes off, I'm all for it. Plus, I get a championship. Win-win situation, right?"

"Powered by spite and Red Bull," Ariel said with some amusement.

Gianpiero chuckled at that, watching as Max nodded in agreement. "Nothing like a little spite and Red Bull to fuel a championship win," he agreed with a grin.

[bappablipblip]

[Spoilers for the Warframe Whispers in the Walls and 1999 Quests]

The way that Albrecht responds to the Indifference in this scene is so pivotal in my opinion. It opens up a lot of conversation about Albrecht Entrati and his motives.

He immediately recognizes the feel of the hand on his shoilder without even looking. He knows that the Indifference took on the form of his lover. The way the hand creeps up and caresses shoulder may not have matched exactly, but he knows what Loid feels like.

His face even screams that he knows who it is. But he knows it isn’t real. Loid isn’t ACTUALLY with him, which is the whole point.

Albrecht went to incredible lengths to keep the Indifference away from Loid but I interpret this part of the quest as him accepting the fact that he’s not going to see his beloved for a long time, yet still indulging in the fact that he can see him again.

But it also implies that Albrecht now knows that the Indifference is aware of Loid and has been watching him for some time (which may have driven Albrecht to have a bigger sense of urgency when the Drifter refused to kill “Rusalka”). It understand that there is a bond, but it can’t replicate it in a way that matters.

The Indifference shifts between the scientist and his assistant, mocking their dynamic as a way to torture Albrecht. It implies that Albrecht is abusive and toxic towards Loid, with the former referring to the latter as his “faithful man-cat”. In this warped view of their relationship, Albrecht does whatever he pleased to Loid and feels like he can treat and do whatever he wants to his lover, even going as far as to putting his hands on him. And Loid is seen as a forever obedient and unrequited servant, devoted and damsel-like.

As seen in the Whispers in the Walls quest, this isn’t at all how the characters genuinely behave towards one another. Loid is PISSED at Albrecht for leaving him, not desperate to get him back. He scorns their relationship, although he slowly starts to heal, but overall wants nothing to do with him. And Albrecht is gentle with him in the moments before he departs to 1999.

This is what makes Albrecht realize what the Indifference’s weakness is, it cannot fathom love.

All it knows is fear and negative emotions. Up until now, it has never replicated anything good or tasteful. It can’t understand what love is worth and what it can make people do for one another.

Albrecht literally goes back in time to protect Loid and to some (more assumed) extent, his daughter and in-laws, out of love. Even if Loid could not see the adoration Albrecht held for him (which is totally valid, its literally entrati.), the Indifference tries to use him as a method of torture against the Doctor. It’s also what makes Albrecht realize what he needs the Drifter to do. He tells the Drifter to develop relationships with every Hex member so that they trust them enough to let the player help themselves.

If Albrecht was loveless and did not have people in his life that he cared about, he probably would not have worked so hard to fight the Indifference. Sure, he’s pretty egotistical and a narcissist with a slight god complex, but he did not need to do everything he’s done to fight the Murmur. He’s too smart, he would know when it is hopeless. But he still fights, for love.

Also, if Albrecht wasn’t Albrecht and the Indifference could copy Loid’s mannerisms to a tee, then the doctor would have definitely felt more despair and struggle during his torture session.

That’s just my rant. I realized not many ppl have talked about this yet.

Ha! That's it, isn't it? The poison to your plan. And what is that? Love.