#so it feels like its impossible for me to even get a chance | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lowkeyren · 5 months ago

Text

in which : alhaitham speaks to you in 5 different languages, unaware that you understand every word he says.

wc 7.3k (pls give it a chance lol), academic rivals to lovers, unrequited hate, attempt at humor, college au, denial + pinning.. crazy ik, he falls first (and harder), tw stalking by a drunkard, a genius on paper but a total dumbass when it comes to crushes, lil smau at the end!, ft. sumeru gang. art by @/gamegatchihaja on x.

ps. translations ay nasa maliliit na titik, katulad neto!!

ps. translations will be in small letters, like this!!

PROLOGUE: GOD I HATE THIS GUY! (DOES HE THINK IM STUPID?)

the semester is nearing its conclusion, and the imminent approach of finals marks the most critical period of the year; students rush through the halls, clutching their notes and textbooks like lifelines, while you pour every ounce of effort into your studies —not just for your grades, but also to surpass a certain arrogant scholar.

alhaitham.

the name tastes like spoiled milk on your tongue, a sour reminder of all the times he’s bested you, even if it’s just by a small margin, leaving you dumbfounded when the difference between your marks during the last exam was a mere 1%.

you were groveling in front of your professor, “please, just round the marks up?” you could practically feel your dignity slipping away. and the worst part? you were so desperate that you started mentally calculating how many odd jobs you’d be willing to do just to sweeten the deal.

(maybe you’ll help organize the office, run around the campus to buy him drinks every day, or even wipe down the windows of his car…)

disclaimer: he ultimately said no, but he did compliment your impeccable taste in coffee so, a win is a win?

anyhow, alhaitham’s nonchalance only adds to your frustration, especially when he switches to a different language mid-conversation. it feels like he’s rubbing salt in your wounds, why of course you can understand him perfectly —after all, you aren’t majoring in linguistics for no reason, plus he's not the only one who’s fluent in multiple languages.

though you keep that to yourself, perhaps because the things he says in those languages, which he assumes you don’t understand, are far from innocent, unknowingly letting you have a glimpse into his true feelings.

ACT I: WHOLEHEARTEDLY, I DETEST YOU.

alhaitham would never fall in love —such irrational and illogical emotions held no value to him.

that was what he always believed, but then he saw you.

the way you laughed so unapologetically at cyno’s jokes, how you always stood firm by your beliefs, your refusal to compromise who you are; you were a breath of fresh air in a world that often felt stifling.

as much as he tries to act unfazed, he can't help the heat prickling his skin nor the way his composure falters just slightly in your presence. and when his heart raced for the first time in what felt like forever, he knew —he was completely, utterly screwed.

(“fix me, kaveh.” / “hah. who do you think i am, ‘y/n’?”)

when kaveh told him that he just had a simple “crush”, he nearly rolled his eyes so hard he thought they might get stuck there permanently.)

likewise, this ugly arrogant handsome bastard here, is one you’ll never fall in love with.

he’s infuriating, completely insufferable, and yet there’s something about him, something hidden beneath that arrogance, that draws you in. the idea that you could ever fall for someone like him seems laughable, impossible even. he's exactly the kind of person you should avoid and you know better than to be charmed by someone like him. yet, there's that nagging feeling, deep down, that perhaps you’re not as immune to him as you think.

by some stroke of luck, you’re in the same major, same year, and even enrolled in the same lecture periods, which means you end up in the same place at the same time more often than not.

but you can’t deny that, in some twisted way, you admire him. his intellect is beyond impressive, even if it annoys you to admit it. so surely, in his eyes, you’re still inferior, and you often wonder if he even considers your ideas as worthy of attention.

(they are.)

ACT II: YOUR WATCHFUL EYES, I CAN’T IGNORE.

your pen glides across the pages as you jot down notes, fully absorbed in your studies, barely registering the faint sound of distant chatter.

unbeknownst to you, a group of students has gathered just outside the lecture hall, peeking in from the door with curious, amused expressions. they’re clearly there for you, exchanging glances and murmurs, waiting for the moment you step outside.

you don’t notice, but alhaitham, seated a few feet away, certainly does.

his eyes narrow slightly as he takes in the scene. he doesn’t say anything at first, but his jaw clenches ever so subtly. as you begin to pack up, you glance up to find him standing in front of you, his tall figure effectively blocking the group outside’s direct line of sight to you.

with a discreet glance over his shoulder, he shoots them a cold, unmistakable glare. they visibly shudder, seemingly getting the message as they awkwardly shuffle away.

“what was that about?”

alhaitham leans against your desk, “nothing important,” his tone is dismissive, laced with irritation, his gaze still fixed on the now-empty doorway.

you narrow your eyes, unimpressed. “really? you just scared them off for no reason?”

“just getting rid of some… distractions,” he says casually, turning his attention back towards you. you raise an eyebrow, clearly not believing his words. “distractions? they weren’t bothering me.”

his expression remains impassive, “khi họ cứ để ý đến em như vậy… em thấy không phiền, còn tôi thì có.”

“seeing them constantly paying attention to you… you're not bothered by it, but i am.”

“bởi vì cái cách mà em chú tâm hoàn toàn vào một việc gì đó… nó quyến rũ vô cùng.”

because the way you completely focus on something… is truly mesmerising.

you blink, feeling a momentary flush of confusion and surprise at the words slipping from his mouth. did he just—? but before you can fully process it, he continues.

“vậy nên tôi cũng không thể trách họ khi họ muốn nhìn em gần và lâu hơn được.”

so i don’t blame them when they want to look at you closer and longer.

his words linger in the air, a moment passes before it clicks —he doesn’t think you understand. that’s why he’s speaking so… freely; letting slip things he’d never say outright in a language you both speak fluently.

“nhưng mà… chắc không ai trong số bọn họ có thể sánh ngang với tôi, em nhỉ?”

but… none of them can compare to me, right?

your chest tightens as a surge of warmth courses through you.

his detached attitude only fuels your irritation. but there’s also a certain satisfaction in knowing something he doesn’t: you’ve understood every single word he’s said.

feigning ignorance, you raise an eyebrow, meeting his gaze with what you hope is a neutral expression. "what are you going on about?" you ask.

his expression remains as stoic as ever, not a single crack in his mask. he simply shrugs, eyes still on you, "just telling you to focus more.”

your grip on the pen tightens, there's a part of you that wants to wipe that smug look off his face, to show him you're not as clueless as he assumes. but not yet —you’re curious to see just how far he’s willing to push.

"right," you mutter under your breath, tapping the pen against your notebook. "focus. got it."

he leans down slightly, one arm resting on the back of your chair while the other presses against the table, effectively caging you in.

"you're wasting time, finals are coming up." he takes a brief pause before continuing, "i wish you the best of luck, you’ll need it.”

your eyes snap up to him in a glare, “don’t you have somewhere to be?" you bite back.

alhaitham straightens, giving you a final glance before turning towards the door. “naturally, i have studying to do.”

“bởi vì tôi sẽ chứng minh cho em thấy rằng chỉ có tôi mới xứng tầm làm đối thủ học thuật của em, không một ai khác.”

because i will prove to you that only i am worthy of being your rival, no one else.

why did he frame it as if it’s a privilege only he can claim? or is he trying to… flatter you?!

you shake your head, no way, that’s ridiculous. finals are coming up, there’s no time to dwell on whatever mind games he’s playing. though if the almighty alhaitham wants a rival, then you’ll show him exactly what it means to stand at the pinnacle.

ACT III: IN MY DREAMS, I SCORED HIGHER THAN YOU.

you’re tired, the kind of tired that seeps deep into your bones. every blink stretches longer than the last and you find it increasingly difficult to focus on the words in front of you. stifling a yawn, you feel the pull of sleep tugging at you, whispering sweet promises of rest.

there’s still time till your next class.

maybe you'll take a moment to close your eyes, just for a few seconds…

did you not get enough sleep last night, or did you stay up late studying again? alhaitham watches silently from across the room, his eyes narrowing as your head droops lower, your exhaustion becoming painfully obvious with each passing second. his gaze lingers on the way your pen pauses mid-sentence, the line on your notebook trailing off as your hand grows heavy.

he pushes himself up from his seat, and approaches your desk; he notices the sunlight streaming through the window, harsh and unrelenting, hitting right over the table where you’re sitting. he looks at you —eyes closed, with the faintest crease of discomfort on your brow.

without a word, he reaches out and slips the pen from your grip, the slight shift causing your fingers to twitch, but you don’t wake.

for a fleeting second, he considers waking you. but then, as you shift again, settling more comfortably into your chair, he decides against it. what good would that do, anyway? you’d probably just brush him off and keep going until you collapse from sheer fatigue. typical.

instead, he adjusts his stance slightly, positioning himself just right to make sure the sunlight is fully blocked from your face, casting you in a cool shadow.

you mumble something incoherent, and he can’t help but roll his eyes at your state. did you really think burning yourself out like this would help you focus?

“stubborn,” he mutters under his breath.

you're always like this, pushing yourself past your limits, and while part of him respects your determination to outdo him, he won’t allow it to come at the expense of your health.

you stir from your slumber, lifting your head, your gaze lands on a familiar figure standing to the side of your table. his back turned, facing the sunlight that streams in from the window.

alhaitham.

he’s close, so close that his broad shoulders completely block out the sunlight from the window. the sight sends a rush of confusion through your already sleep-addled mind. did he… stand there the whole time? why?

you shift slightly in your seat, your movement catching his attention. without turning, he speaks in that low, steady tone of his, “you’re awake.”

“alhaitham?” you murmur, your voice still thick with sleep.

he glances over his shoulder, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the calm expression on his face. “you’ve been out for a while,” he comments, a hint of amusement in his voice. “i was starting to think you’d sleep through your next class.”

you rub the sleep from your eyes, “why didn’t you wake me up then?”

his shoulders shift slightly as he shrugs, still facing away from you. “you looked like you needed the rest. besides, it’s more entertaining to see how long you’d stay asleep.”

a flicker of annoyance courses through you as you roll your eyes, “oh, so you mean you care?”

he turns slightly, and you can see a hint of a smirk on his lips. “don’t read too much into it. i just prefer my competition functioning at their best.”

you wish you could roll your eyes harder because this man has an uncanny talent for grating on your nerves while somehow being insufferably charming at the same time.

“ah yes —because you need me to keep up with you,” you remark sarcastically.

“exactly.” you let out an exasperated sigh as you lean back in your chair. “you really think so highly of yourself, don’t you?”

“mushiro, kimi no koto o hijō ni takaku hyōka shiteiru yo.”

if anything, i think highly of you.

your brows knit together in surprise, and you can’t help but scoff. “what was that? i didn't catch it.”

“i said i won’t go easy on you.” oh, the audacity. he’s lying again, and he knows it.

the corners of your mouth twitch in disbelief as you scrutinise his expression. there’s that familiar glimmer in his eyes, a spark of mischief that tells you he’s enjoying this too much.

“whatever,” you retort, crossing your arms defiantly. “not like i want you to anyway.”

despite your words, you can't deny that his actions earlier were surprisingly endearing. you wonder how long he intends to keep this up. perhaps it’s time you let him know.

“ii ne, kimi ga iraira shite iru toki wa kawaiikara.”

good, because you’re cute when you’re all riled up.

you feel a blush creep into your cheeks at his words, okay maybe you shouldn’t let him know. you instinctively look away, as if avoiding his gaze can help you regain your composure.

cute? what does he mean “cute”?! he thinks he can get away with calling you cute —well… well, there’s not much you can do about it, you’re not ready to confront him about this either.

the mere thought of asking him directly makes your stomach twist with a year’s worth of embarrassment. yet, as you try to refocus on the book in front of you, you find yourself biting your lip, struggling to suppress a smile that threatens to break free.

ACT IV: I WOKE UP TODAY, AND A DREAM CAME TRUE.

the hallway buzzes with excitement as students gather around the large announcement board, eager to see the results of their theses. you push through the crowd, heart pounding, the low hum of chatter filling your ears.

when you reach the front, you quickly scan the list; the moment your eyes land on your name, your breath catches in your throat.

there it is, in bold red ink at the top of the board —a score higher than you’d ever hoped for, higher than his. and your name, on top of his.

alhaitham.

you glance over and spot him approaching the board, approaching you. his expression is, as always, unreadable. but you know him well enough by now to catch the slight pause in his movements, the brief moment where his eyes linger just a second too long on the board.

you try not to think too much about it as you collect your thesis, with alhaitham following closely behind, his fingers nearly grazing yours as you both sift through the stack of papers on the table.

you take in the glowing praise from your professor, each word making you feel like every all-nighter was worth it. you clutch the paper, resisting the urge to grin like an idiot.

glancing sideways, you wait for him to say something, maybe some backhanded comment, but he remains silent. your eyes meet, and there’s a shift in his gaze as the usual sharpness in his eyes dulls ever so slightly, your smile lingering like the first light of dawn breaking through the night's embrace.

it’s subtle —just a flicker —but you catch how his gaze falters, softening, if only for a heartbeat. the edges of his stare blur, drawn to the warmth of your expression as though it’s something he hadn’t meant to witness, yet can’t look away from.

at this moment,

"looks like i finally beat you," you say, not bothering to suppress the grin spreading across your face now.

he feels like

there’s no scowl, no sign of frustration —just the slightest raise of an eyebrow. “hmm. by a point.” he pauses, studying you for a second longer than necessary before returning his gaze to his paper. “enjoy it while it lasts.”

he's in heaven.

it’s as if he’s not bothered by the outcome at all. in fact, if anything, he seems... satisfied?

"hindi dapat ganito kalala ang epekto ng ngiti mo sa akin."

your smile shouldn't affect me this badly.

“—huh?” your mouth drops slightly open at his words; out of everything, you didn’t expect him to say that. it catches you off guard, making your heart race just a little faster. if you peer closely enough, you might catch a glimpse of the gentle arch of his lips, a ghost of a smile.

the silence stretches on for a beat too long before he clears his throat and shifts his gaze away from you. “ang iyong ngiti ang pinakamagandang tanawin ng aking araw.”

your smile is the most beautiful sight of my day.

“what?” the word slips from your lips, barely a breath, a soft gasp that hangs in the air. it feels almost surreal and you wonder if you’ve misheard him.

each heartbeat thunders in your ears, a rhythm that matches the erratic flutter in your chest. why is he saying these things, what for in a different language…? there’s no way that he—

"—tulad mo na ang hinangad ko na ligawan, ngunit sa bawat ngiti mo, halip ay mas lalo akong nahulog para sayo."

—like you, who i wish to court, but with every smile, i instead found myself falling for you.

your breath hitches as your heart stumbles, the implications of his words washing over you like a wave. a rush of heat floods your cheeks, “what… did you say?”

his shoulders stiffen, and there’s a subtle tension in the way his fingers curl against the paper he’s holding. “see you tomorrow, [name],” he mutters, his voice low but hurried, and before you know it, he’s already walking away.

two strange things happened today:

1. you finally beat your sworn enemy!

2. said enemy… complimented you?

huh, it’s as if the words slipped out before he could catch them, as if he’s been holding them in for far too long, as if… you notice the way his neck reddens, even as he turns away.

behind the door, alhaitham lets out a quiet breath.

“gago… nagkamali ba ako?”

stupid… did i make a mistake?

to his dismay, an annoyingly familiar voice cuts through the silence. kaveh, who had been waiting just down the hall, notices him standing there, a little too still.

“oh, what do we have here?" there's a slight pause, followed by a raised eyebrow. "is that—no way, your face is red!” kaveh teases, amusement dancing in his eyes. “what happened there?" he leans in, clearly enjoying himself. "come on, spill the tea..!”

"not a chance," alhaitham retorts, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms defensively.

just then, kaveh spots cyno and tighnari; grinning, he waves them over. “what’s going on? did alhaitham finally crack under pressure?”

alhaitham would rather reorganise the entire library than listen to kaveh recount what happened.

“i’m leaving.”

"no, i'm afraid you're not getting out of this one.” cyno steps forward, blocking alhaitham’s path; and tighnari, who has been quietly observing till now, chimes in, “don’t leave us hanging.”

“you’re outnumbered.”

alhaitham sighs and shakes his head. he hadn’t even thought it was physically possible for him, of all people, to do something as ridiculous as blushing —until today.

(on the other side of the door, their banter echoes through, and you can’t help but chuckle to yourself at alhaitham’s misery.)

ACT V: PLAUSIBLE DENIABILITY, YOU SAY? BUT EVERYONE CALLS IT FLIRTING.

“i think alhaitham likes [name].”

the whole table falls silent before kaveh dramatically slams his glass down on the table, causing a splash of alcohol to spill over the edge. “oh finally, it’s so obvious! have you all seen the way he looks at them?”

across the table, tighnari taps his fingers absentmindedly on his notebook, his attention only half on kaveh’s (incoming) rant but clearly invested enough, as shown by the slight twitching of his ears, to be listening.

cyno snickers, “you’re telling me the man who can dissect any philosophical argument can’t handle a little crush? that’s rich.”

kaveh waves a hand dismissively. “come on! remember that time they were partnered up for a project? he was so... uncharacteristically patient! i’d almost say it’s cute if it weren’t alhaitham we’re talking about!”

right, it’d be almost endearing —if it weren’t coming from the most stoic, intimidatingly aloof guy in the entire school. it’d be adorable —if it weren’t alhaitham, who instinctively covers the corner of your table with his hand when you drop your pencil, ensuring you won’t hit your head as you bend down to retrieve it.

oh, you don’t notice (of course not). but your friend dehya, sitting nearby, catches the whole scene out of the corner of her eye. she raises an eyebrow, nudging the girl beside her.

(“candace, do you see that shit.” / “yeah.”)

“a soft spot for [name], you say? well, i’ve got a story of my own, too.” cyno glances around, ensuring no one else is within earshot, then lowers his voice conspiratorially. “have you noticed? he doesn’t wear his earphones when he’s around them.”

kaveh pipes up, nodding eagerly.

“he’s got those earphones practically glued to his head, he doesn’t hear anything he doesn’t want to, and he certainly doesn’t talk unless he’s forced to. but around them?” cyno pauses, pretending to think for a while. “not once. he’ll put them away entirely, like he’s actually willing to be… present.”

sure it’s small, subtle, the kind of habit no one would pick up on unless they were looking closely. but to anyone who knew alhaitham well, it tells them more than words ever could.

for him, actions speak louder than words, even if he often doesn’t realise the meaning behind his own gestures.

his earphones slide down, resting forgotten around his neck, all so he can be close enough to catch the delightful lilt of your laughter. his chair inches a fraction closer, seemingly by accident. a subtle upward twitch at the corner of his mouth, so fleeting and often passing so quickly if one weren’t paying attention.

for him, it’s a language without words.

dehya laughs softly. "for someone who supposedly ‘doesn’t like being bothered,’ he sure seems invested in whatever [name] has to say."

and what sealed their suspicions?

definitely the time when kaveh complimented nilou’s new bracelet. he glanced over at the man beside him, nudging him lightly. “what do you think?”

alhaitham gave the bracelet a cursory glance, before replying, “it’s nice.” though his gaze flickered back; and almost absently, he added after a pause, “[name] has the same one too.”

oh… oh? well that was oddly specific. kaveh’s eyebrow quirked as he fought to suppress a grin.

alhaitham had noticed a detail seemingly insignificant about [name] —the kind of thing he never cared to show the slightest interest in when it came to anyone else.

the glint in nilou’s eyes seemed to mirror kaveh’s unspoken thoughts, silently agreeing with his suspicions.

now they’re certain —100% sure, in fact —that alhaitham has a crush on you.

“well, speak of the devil… lovely seeing you here, alhaitham,” kaveh quips. tighnari, ever observant, gives him a pointed look. “your jacket’s missing.”

“someone took it,” alhaitham replies, his tone as composed as always, giving nothing away.

—nothing until you walked past. draped over your shoulders, unmistakable, is alhaitham’s jacket. you don’t notice the way every pair of eyes follows you, or the way kaveh barely stifles a triumphant laugh.

...make that 110%.

(translation: he means he borrowed his jacket because [name] was cold.)

ACT VI: IT’S YOU, WHO COMES TO MY RESCUE.

the quiet night hangs heavy, the road empty and bathed in the dim glow of distant streetlights. you weave through the streets, but no matter how many twists and turns you take, that weirdo just won’t leave you alone.

he’s been trailing behind you for blocks now, his persistence grating on your nerves, cornering you with endless “compliments” and invasive questions. you’ve tried to shake him off, but his determination far exceeds your patience.

"come on, just give me a chance," he insists, stepping closer, a little too close for comfort. you take a step back. the smell of alcohol reeks from his breath, and his grin is making your skin crawl.

"i told you, i’m not interested," you say firmly, keeping your voice steady, but the panic was starting to creep in. you glance at the empty bottle in his hand —he’s definitely drunk out his mind.

“you sure?" he completely ignores your clear discomfort. "how about you just give me your number, yeah?" he slurs out.

"no, i have a boyfriend." you lie through your teeth, hoping that would be enough to make him back off.

unfortunately, he’s as insufferable as he is persistent.

he snorts dismissively, "yeah, right. a boyfriend? you’re just playing hard to get."

you sigh, you aren’t in the mood for this, not here, not now, and especially not with someone like him. "i already told you, i have a boyfriend," your voice now tinged with frustration. "so please, just leave me alone.”

"oh, don't be like that," he steps in front of you, blocking your way. "prove it. call your boyfriend. show me you’re not lying."

your heart races as the man reaches out for you, dodging his hand, you take the chance to look behind him for an escape. just then, you see an all-too-familiar figure in the distance.

alhaitham.

you barely manage to suppress a relieved sigh as you wave frantically in his direction. he spots you almost immediately and without hesitation, he rushes over.

"what, this your boyfriend?" the guy sneers with derision, still sounding a little too cocky for someone who was about to get a reality check.

alhaitham steps beside you, you can feel his eyes on you for just a brief moment, the faintest flicker of worry flashing across his face. it’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but you catch it—and it makes your chest tighten.

his voice is low, unmistakably carrying a warning, "yes, i’m their boyfriend. and if you don’t want things to escalate, i suggest you leave."

the man’s face twists as anger flares in his bloodshot eyes. he takes a step forward, his grip tightening around the neck of the bottle, the glass slightly cracking. "you think you can tell me what to do?" he slurs, gaze wild and unfocused. “y-you think you’re some kind of saviour? *hic* a-and you! how… how dare you reject me?!”

alhaitham doesn’t move, his expression cold and unbothered, and that only seems to make the man angrier. his frustration boils over, and with a snarl, he clumsily swings the bottle in his hand, aggressively lurching towards your direction.

the world seems to slow for a moment. though before you can even react, alhaitham pulls you firmly behind him with one swift motion, his other arm instinctively rising to shield the both of you from the blow. the sound of glass meeting his forearm is sharp and jarring —you can hear the high-pitched tinkle of glass scattering, the jagged shards bouncing off the pavement, and some skittering across the ground.

but he doesn’t even flinch, his stance unwavering as the man stumbles back, glass crunching underfoot. you’re still frozen from shock, your heart racing in your chest as you watch the scene unfold.

“big mistake,” he starts, and the man visibly falters. “harassment, assault —keep this up, and you’ll regret every choice that brought you here tonight.”

the man shifts around, clearly disoriented. his eyes dart between you and alhaitham, but it’s clear that the fight’s already left him. “you— you can’t do this!” the man stammers, trying to regain some semblance of courage; unfortunately for him, the tremor in his voice is unmistakable.

“do you really want to find out?” alhaitham asks, to which the man shakes his head vigorously. “get lost,” he mutters. the man, looking more pathetic than threatening now, quickly stumbles away, mumbling incoherent curses under his breath.

you’re breathless, still clutching the edge of his jacket, fingers trembling slightly as the adrenaline courses through you.

"are you alright?"

you nod, forcing a small, unconvincing smile."yeah... i’m fine. thanks to you."

alhaitham’s eyes narrow slightly, scanning you for any sign of injury. you follow his gaze instinctively, glancing down at yourself. that’s when you notice it —not on you, but on him.

streaks of red stain his forearm, where jagged shards of glass must have cut him during the confrontation. the gash bleeds steadily, a dark line of blood seeping through the fabric of his jacket.

"wait," you breathe, your heart sinking. "you're bleeding."

your stomach twists with guilt.

"why didn’t you say anything?" you exclaim.

he shakes his head, a dismissive gesture that does nothing to ease the knot forming in your stomach. "it’s nothing," he says, but the slight furrow in his brow and the tension in his jaw betray his words.

"nothing?" you fix him with a hard glare. "idiot… you just blocked a glass bottle with your arm, don’t try to downplay this."

you grab his sleeve, tugging it gently but firmly, the fabric sliding beneath your fingers as you pull it up. “—and unless you think an infection is ‘nothing’, you’ll let me take care of this."

"hold still," you murmur as you settle beside him on the couch, your supplies spread across the coffee table in front of you.

the scent of antiseptic fills the air as you take a disinfectant wipe and gently dab it against the gash. the sting of the alcohol makes him flinch slightly, but he doesn’t pull away. you mutter a soft apology, your movements slow and deliberate as you try to be as gentle as you can.

you open a tube of ointment, squeezing a small amount onto your finger before smoothing it carefully along the edges of the cut. the cool gel glides over his skin, and you can feel the tension in his arm ease ever so slightly under your touch.

“nǐ zhème guān xīn wǒ, huì ràng wǒ wù huì de.”

if you care so much about me, i might misunderstand you.

your fingers pause briefly, the words catching you off guard. you glance up at him, but he only averts his gaze, his eyes remaining fixed on a distant spot beyond the room.

misunderstand? misunderstand what, exactly?

the bandage wraps securely around his arm as you smooth it into place. as you tuck the end of the bandage, his voice comes again, just as soft, but no less clear.

“—wù huì nǐ duì wǒ yǒu gǎn jué.”

"—misunderstand that you have feelings for me."

your brain short-circuits, and in your shock, your hands jerk. in turn, the bandage tightens way too much, causing him to wince and tense up. before you can apologise, he lets out a light chuckle.

“suǒ yǐ nǐ dān xīn wǒ… nǐ shì bù shì gù yì ràng rén xīn dòng de?”

“so you're worried about me… are you purposely trying to make my heart race?”

his words only make you more flustered, and you find yourself fumbling to fix the bandage. “i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to—”

his chuckle only grows softer, and you catch the glint of amusement in his eyes. “it’s fine.”

you quickly finish adjusting the bandage, trying to focus on anything other than how your heart is now racing. (ironically)

“you seem flustered,” he comments casually, as if he isn’t the one who just made your head spin. “did i say something wrong?”

you shake your head quickly, hoping to hide the flush creeping up your neck. "no, not at all.”

his lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smirk.

"nǐ bù bì yǎn shì, wǒ xǐ huān nǐ hài xiū de yàng zǐ, tǐng kě ài de.”

“you don’t have to hide it. i like seeing your flustered expression, it’s quite cute.”

(oh this bastard!!!!)

you try to speak, but the words get stuck in your throat. what do you say when someone’s teasing you so openly —and they think you don’t even realise it?

after a long moment, he stands, “it’s getting late, i should get going.” alhaitham gives you a small, almost imperceptible nod, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment —and there it was, that trace of softness reserved only for you.

he heads toward the door, you watch him, feeling a strange sense of emptiness when he turns away.

“i’ll see you,” he pauses. "...and thank you for tending to me."

you watch him leave, the door clicking softly behind him, and the silence settles back into the room.

you blink, taking a deep breath. what a rollercoaster of a day. yawning, you turn to start tidying up, but your eyes land on something on the couch.

it’s his jacket, draped over the armrest. you notice a tear on the sleeve, just where his injured forearm had been. what truly catches your attention, however, is a folded piece of paper slipping out of the pocket.

intrigued, you unfold it, revealing his neat, precise handwriting.

ACT VII: THE SECRET I’VE ALWAYS KNOWN.

To [Name], I once believed you to be little more than a nuisance. A bright, well-meaning nuisance, no doubt, but a nuisance nonetheless. One who seemed intent only on striving for perfection, always seeking to best me at every turn, not out of malice but out of some earnest desire to prove your worth. In my arrogance, I mistook your relentless pursuit for a need for recognition, as if you sought my attention in some petty rivalry. Though very quickly, you made me think otherwise. You saw the world differently, you also saw me differently. You didn’t treat me with the reverence others seemed to, nor did you shy away from challenging me. You refused to be seen as anything other than yourself; and that, in itself, was what made me admire you —what made me long to understand you more. Now, I find that I am standing with half a heart and an emptiness I never knew I could feel, because you showed me what it truly means to crave something more, something I never thought I deserved. You may think I’m a coward for not expressing my feelings more directly, perhaps you are right. I am a coward for fearing to lay bare the vulnerability of my heart. But even in my cowardice, know that my thoughts have always been of you. If you have seen through my silence and hesitation, if you understand my actions when my words fail me, then perhaps you have already known this truth. I care for you, more deeply than I can fully express. Though I may never be able to say these things as openly as I wish, I’d like you to know that my actions have always been my confession. Even now, I’m still a coward for you. So please, if you decide to give me a chance, I’ll be waiting at nightfall. Helplessly, Alhaitham.

you absentmindedly trace the edges of the letter with your fingers while your eyes skim over his writing for the nth time, the ink seeming to blur together with your thoughts as you try to process everything. your fingers curl around the fabric of his jacket, a foolish smile creeping onto your face.

tomorrow’s nightfall feels impossibly far away, yet you can’t wait for it.

alhaitham lays on his bed, his arm aches slightly from the injury, but it’s nothing he can’t ignore. plus, the bandage you had carefully wrapped around his arm is enough to keep the discomfort at bay.

(originally, he had only planned to meet you, slip you the note, and be on his way. things didn’t go exactly to plan, but either way, he hopes you’ve read it by now.)

of all the possibilities, he’s never accounted for the one he’d be at mercy of his own emotions; he had always prided himself on his rationality, his restraint. but now? he’s reckless, absurd, foolish even —he can admit that to himself. but he finds he doesn’t care in the slightest.

for as much as he is a coward in your presence, he is just as much a fool in your absence.

ACT VIII: UNDER THE RAIN, I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY.

“alhaitham isn’t really an expressive person, so don’t worry if he comes off as distant or uninterested. it’s not that he doesn’t care, he just… shows it differently.”

ah well, ‘differently’ indeed.

“—most importantly, alhaitham doesn’t waste time on people he doesn’t care about, so you must mean a lot to him.”

maybe you didn’t mind how your heart raced when you heard that.

“don’t fuss over it [name], you’ll know when he’s in love.”

how so?

if he was in love, what would it look like? would you be able to tell, or would it be just another one of those things you had to catch on to?

you wrapped the his jacket tighter around yourself, a faint smile tugging at your lips. it wasn’t the answers to those questions that mattered, but asking them in the first place —that was what made you realize you already knew all along.

the evening air is cool against your skin; a gentle breeze stirs the trees, their leaves rustling quietly, and your heart beats louder than ever, urging you forward.

in the distance, you spot him, standing still in the dim light. and without a second thought, you quicken your pace.

“haitham.”

the sound of your voice catches his attention as he turns to face you; you can’t help but notice how his gaze flickers down for just a moment, his eyes taking in on how his jacket looks on you, before meeting yours.

his posture is unnervingly perfect, rigid almost to the point of stiffness …is he nervous?

“hey,” he finally says, clearing his throat. “there’s something i need to tell you… though you’ve probably already figured it out. you’ve always been sharp.”

“i… ” he falters, and it’s the first time you see him hesitate. “i’m not sure how to put it… since i’m not exactly great at this.”

you tilt your head, subtly urging him to continue.

“but you’ve managed to make me care about things i never thought i would. and now i can’t seem to stop thinking about it —about you.” his voice lowers, softer now, but there’s a rawness there that’s unmistakable.

“i’m telling you this now, because not saying it... doesn’t feel right anymore."

suddenly, you feel a soft mist that barely kisses your skin, a slight chill against your cheeks, then a few tiny drops, until they start to gather in your hair, the beads of water slipping down the back of your neck, but you don't move. neither does he.

his hair is damp, sticking to his forehead, droplets trailing down his temple. his clothes cling to his frame, soaked by the rain, yet his attention remains solely on you.

“[name], i am irrevocably in love with you.”

you stand there, the rain falling relentlessly around you, the pitter-patter mirroring the frantic beat of your heart. the water trails down his face, but it’s hard to tell if it’s just the rain, or something else.

his lips part, as though he wants to say more, but the words seem caught in the storm, swallowed up by the downpour. the rain is cold, but his gaze? his gaze feels impossibly warm.

it’s only when you feel the dampness of his jacket beneath your fingers, that the words finally come. “you don’t need to convince me of that.”

you take a step closer, and for a moment, the world outside seems to disappear.

“i’ve known,” you add. “but hearing you say it,” you pause, allowing yourself a small smile, “makes all the difference.”

reaching up, your fingers graze his damp skin as you gently push a wet strand of hair from his forehead, the warmth of your touch lingering against his cool skin.

“'uhibuk aydan, alhaitham.”

i love you too, alhaitham.

a single droplet slides down his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw before falling to the soaked fabric of his collar. another follows. and then another. his breath catches in his throat, and a shaky exhale leaves his mouth.

you wrap your arms around him, and he sinks into your embrace, his hair tickling your cheeks, as his chest rises and falls against yours.

“you’re gonna make me cry too, idiot,” you murmur, burying your face in his chest, your eyes glassy. “you really are a fool,” you tease softly, a slight smile playing on your lips. “but only for me.”

slowly, his hands rise, trembling slightly, until they cup your cheeks, gently stroking it.

“la yujad 'ahad akhar 'urid 'an 'akun 'ahmaq min 'ajlihi.”

there’s no one else i’d ever want to be a fool for.

his palms are surprisingly warm despite the weather. his thumb grazes your cheekbone as he leans in, and the world falls away —nothing but the warmth of his presence and the soft press of his lips against yours.

“this is my first time in ten years seeing this guy cry! can you believe it?!” kaveh whisper-shouts, peeking out from behind the shrub.

nodding along, cyno agrees, poking his head out just right below the blond’s. “[name] is truly exceptional. though i must say, seeing alhaitham cry is quite tear-rifying.”

kaveh rolls his eyes in exasperation. “ugh, you and your puns.” he mutters under his breath while zooming in on his phone, which is currently recording the whole scene.

“quiet down, you two!” a voice hisses from behind them —tighnari, face flushed with panic. “they’re literally right there, and you’re making more noise than a herd of goats.”

“relax, we’re out of their line of sight anyway!” kaveh raises his phone higher, almost giddily, eyes glued to the screen. “and damn this is a good angle.”

tighnari exhales sharply, “you’re incorrigible.”

“look who’s talking,” cyno raises an eyebrow at tighnari… who’s also peeking out from behind the bush. (what a hypocrite)

…

“they kissed oh my g—” kaveh’s voice rises in disbelief, but cyno quickly covers his mouth with a swift hand. the three of them scramble to duck behind the bush just as you turn to glance in their direction.

(“is that… senior kaveh?” you squint your eyes, “cyno, and tighnari?”

alhaitham clears his throat before glancing over at his friends with a deadpan expression. “yes and unfortunately, they’re very invested in my personal life. so please don’t mind them."

you laugh, finding the whole situation a bit too amusing. “not in the slightest, but i’m sure they’ll never let you hear the end of it.”)

EPILOGUE: IN EVERY LANGUAGE, I HEAR LOVE YOU.

“how long?”

you blink, feigning confusion. “how long what?”

alhaitham’s eyes narrow slightly, an expression you know well. “how long have you understood everything i’ve been saying?”

you bite back a smile and offer a small shrug, “...ever since you started?”

his lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, you can’t tell if he’s upset or impressed. then, he sighs, almost amused. “and you let me embarrass myself all this time?”

“you were being honest,” you shrug, a smirk forming. “plus i knew you’d figure it out eventually.”

he huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “may ideya ka ba kung ano ginawa mo?"

do you have any idea what you’ve done?

"mas lalong umibig sakin?"

made you fall in love with me even more?

you tease, but there’s a tenderness in your voice that softens the edge of your words.

“yes, and you really are insufferable,” he mutters with no malice. his tone is different now. softer. warmer, even.

you lean in slightly, a playful glint in your eyes. “that’s not what i heard you say before.” your fingers graze the skin of his cheek before you tenderly pinch it, giggling softly at the reaction you provoked.

in one smooth motion, he catches your hand before you can pull away and tugs you towards him, closing the distance between you in a heartbeat. you tilt your head back to meet alhaitham’s gaze.

you’ve often thought he’s the most-perfect boyfriend, undeniably handsome in every way —but there’s really just one flaw: his height.

“ugh, you’re too tall," you grumble, rubbing the back of your neck. "i’m having a neck sore just looking at you."

he quirks an eyebrow at your sudden words. “you could use a stepstool.”

"or," you counter, "you could get on your knees and save me the trouble.”

he slowly lets out a breath, his lips curling ever so slightly.

“'akida, 'antaziri hataa 'ashtari alkhatama.”

sure, just wait till i buy the ring.

"wh—"

he crosses his arms, "what’s wrong? isn’t that what people expect when someone gets on their knees?"

you roll your eyes, half-smiling. "fine, then i’ll eagerly wait for that day.”

his gaze softens as his hand reaches up, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face; his eyes drop to your lips for a moment, and you know what’s coming even before he speaks.

this fic was not sponsored by duolingo, but with the help of my beloved friends!! wouldn't have been possible w/o em please give them a round of applause xx

vietnamese — @https-sourlimes

tagalog / filipino — @vxnuslogy

arabic — @ughscara

chinese, japanese — me!

ty @mitsvriii for proofreading, love u all <3

and thank you for reading!! reblogs are appreciated ^^

pspspss check out the cool fanart / comic based on this fic here by @rei-plswork 🤍

MASTERLIST.

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gaykarstaagforever · 1 month ago

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YouTube has this thing now called YouTube Playables (great name as usual, guys; it's not a children's snack pack), that are basically in-app "Flash games"-style things that are just enough game to keep you watching ads.

The ones of these that aren't direct ripoffs of owned IP (very specifically Zuma) are barebones exercises in that bog-standard FTP addictive mobile gaming loop we all know and hate but also LOVE, minus the in-app purchases (for the time being). Like, shallow systems that are fun for exactly 30 minutes, then get stupidly hard so you'll pay to win, though you can't do that yet, so...kind of pointless.

...I still spent FOUR HOURS playing these, because they tapped into my primitive lizard brain's desire to try and master an utterly meaningless task and then feel undooly smug about it.

I didn't get any ads, because I'm a stooge that pays real money to Google every month for this, because once you go adless, you CANNOT go back. Which kind of negates the whole point of these, as addictive time-wasters that keep you glued to the platform and its commercials? But I already pay for YouTube and STILL got caught in these, so I suppose everything is going according to YouTube's plan either way, and I need meaningful human relationships.

But THAT isn't going to happen any time soon! So let me waste another evening on these by reviewing some crap garbage games for idiots that no one cares about, on Tumblr dot com!

1. Totemia: Cursed Marbles

It's Zuma. That's it. With a couple minor tweaks that make it harder and more annoying.

Just license Zuma, YouTube. I think you can afford the, what, $25 that would cost atm?

2. Sword Play

An on-rails sword slashing game (you don't control the movement, just the slashing), and you kill plastic doll guys before they kill you.

At some point they get projectiles that move really fast, that you can only destroy via specific directional QTEs that don't register properly half the time, because this is all relative finger smearing across the screen.

It was fun before that. The guys fall apart specific to how you slash them. That's something.

3. Dessert DIY

This one sucks. You're just picking from very limited options, then doing specific motions to trigger animations that create desserts that don't even look much like the promo art. People request different things, but early game all they ask for is "whatever you want to make" and "do one out of poop with bugs on it to make someone I hate throw up."

And then there's an animation of someone accepting what is obviously poop with bugs on it from their sworn enemy, they eat it anyway, then vomit.

The only fun part about this is the shameless inclusion of NPCs that look like celebrities, specifically Billie Eilish, Kanye West, and Donald Trump.

If you want to make a poop ice cream cone with bugs on it and feed it to Trump until he vomits all over his desk, this is the game for you. Otherwise, this is meh even for one of these meh games.

4. Bowmasters

Dueling Angry Birds, but you have no control of the camera and it focuses on you so you have to trial-and-error the degree of angle and throwing force to figure out how to hit and kill your opponent before they hit and kill you.

There are many colorful pop culture-inspired combatants to unlock, with a huge variety of projectiles of different weights, sizes, and behaviors. This is the most "very nearly a real, good game" one of these.

...Except that the level progression forces you to do Bonus Rounds, and one of those is "knock fruit off the head of an opponent without hitting them, and you have to do this like 5 times in a row, and we move you further away from them another 30 yards every round, and you have to use a wildly different unique projectile every round, and you get 3 chances, and that includes if you miss entirely."

It is basically impossible to do this, because your ever-changing location makes calculating arcs and force, with the ever-changing projectiles, impossible, in this limited amount of attempts. It turns into grinding it out until RNG randomly makes you win.

Which is a shame, because otherwise, this is fun. But you WILL get stuck on a stupid fruit round and stop playing this.

5. Mob Control

You have a cannon that launches blue guys. The NPC opponent does red. You both are trying to bumrush the other's base, taking advantage of buttons and switches and bonus gates that speed you up or slow you down and multiply your number of guys. Guys annihilate each-other when they run into each-other, so you need to overwhelm Red before they overwhelm you.

It's fun until it gets so fast that it becomes a chore to manage where precisely to launch guys specifically to annihilate other guys.

6. Merge Master

This goddamn game. This was 3.5 hours of my 4 hour playtime.

You have a grid board, with you at the bottom and an opponent at the top. You both have an army of warriors and dinosaurs, and a team HP bar. You click go, the warriors fire projectiles and the dinosaurs melee the nearest enemy, and last man standing wins.

Before each round, you can arrange the placement of your army, and use money you won from the last rounds to buy more warriors and dinosaurs. But the kicker is, you can combine like warriors and dinosaurs to make more powerful units, which you keep at the end of every round. They don't gain XP or anything, but as you make more money, you can buy more 1st-level units (that's all you can buy), and gradually combine them and then combine the combinations, and on and on and on, making incredibly powerful new units. And you need a mix of low-level and high-level units to have enough melee dinosaurs and projectile-throwers to overwhelm high-level enemy units, or draw fire away from your own, against the ever-changing enemy army each round.

It's a process of slowly adding more units and combining them to make stronger and stronger units, and as many of them as you can get, accounting for the limited board space. Also the price of units rises exponentially each round, so you may have 1 trillion gold, but at this point a new 1st-level dinosaur costs 245 billion.

I couldn't stop with this. It just got me. I wanted to see new exciting high-level warriors and dinosaurs, and see how fast I could take the other army down. There's more than zero strategy at work here, and battles can vary substantially from round to round, depending on what mix of units the enemy brings to the board.

It's still a rudimentary Flash-esque game, and very much akin to those shitty mobile boss rush games that raid our shadow legends. But it's not PTW yet, and the graphics are a charming and distorted replica of early 2000s 3D games, like Age of Mythology or GTA 3. It felt like something, for awhile.

It isn't, and I wasted valuable battery charge on this stupid shit. But I was having fun. And sometimes, that's enough.

...And posting about it here. It's something to talk about that isn't the world eating itself.

And we all need that sometimes.

#youtube playables #game review

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ponderingmoonlight · 10 months ago

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Sharing a bed with kny men

Pairings: Yoriichi x fem!reader; Sanemi x fem!reader

Word Count: 5,7k (lmao)

Warnings: injury in Yoriichi's part, smut in Sanemi's part so read if you're 18+, this is a long ass fic y'all, not proofread

This is actually my first time posting Sanemi smut and I'm super scared. Let me know what you think 🥹🤍

Also, do you want me to do other characters too?🫶

Yoriichi

I heard you @laurencrsnt 🫶

All your life, you never even thought about the possibility that maybe, you’ll encounter a demon someday. Why you, out of all people? Why especially you?

Even now with its cold eyes glaring down at you and your shoulder ripped open by its claws, you fail to find an answer for that. Is it your fate to die right here, when you only went out at night in order to buy medicine for your little sister who has fever? Is dying the cruelest death really your destiny when you wish for nothing more than growing old and watching your own children live their lives?

It’s unfair.

You shouldn’t lay here, crumpled onto the still wet street. You shouldn’t feel the sensation of your eyes watering, your hands trembling, your heart racing.

This shouldn’t be your last day walking on this earth. You didn’t even have the chance to find the man of your dreams yet…

It’s ridiculous and you know it, that spark of determination that rushes through your bones. All of the sudden you spring back onto your feet and start running. Out of the city, away from the lit streets straight into the dark woods.

Even if you have to die here, you won’t give up this easily. You won’t allow this demon to end your life without putting up a fight.

“Why do you girls always think you can run away, huh? It’s too easy to sweep you off your feet”, the demon behind you comments dryly.

With a swift motion of his hand, it digs open your tender flesh all over again, sends your violent scream echoing through the lonely forest. You fall to the ground like a bag of rice, your torn leg now refusing its service completely.

“Let me go!”, you shriek in horror.

No, you don’t want to die here, you just want to go back to bed and forget about this.

But the forest ground isn’t your bed and the demon in front of you who’s ready to slice through your throat isn’t only a nightmare.

Your heart sinks to the floor, body suddenly feeling numb and lifeless. You will die here.

“I’ll keep you in good memory. Well, at least for tonight”, the demon jeers at you.

You close your eyes, desperately try to imagine your little sister. She’ll find herself a loving husband and her very own family without any doubt. Even without you around, her life will turn out alright. Even without you around, life goes on. You don’t have to feel sad or guilty, you just have to let go…

“Get away from that woman.”

A low male voice, so charismatic that you think you might dream. He sure must be handsome. Men with voices like that always have a matching face.

A slicing blade, a dull thud. But no claws that dig into your flesh one last time, no bow of relief that you’ve been awaiting for quite some time by now. Your eyelids start shivering. When is this finally over?

“Are you alright? Please allow me to help you up.”

The second something touches your skin, your eyes snap open in an instant. But they aren’t greeted by those venomous red orbs from earlier. No, these ones are soft but strong and have that calming fuchsia color. This isn’t a demon.

This is a man.

“Don’t be afraid. The demon is gone”, he continues speaking with his low voice.

You have no control over your own body and shivering limbs. It’s impossible for you to say a single word. Are you really out of danger? Is it really over?

When he pulls you off the ground, a violent scream escapes your lips. No, you don’t want to die, you don’t want your life to end tonight. Not like this, not without saying goodbye.

“Please calm down, everything is alright now”, the stranger tries to reassure you, but his words don’t even reach your ringing ears.

You gasp for air like a fish on land, forehead now covered in ice cold sweat. This can’t be your end.

If Yoriichi doesn’t act now, you might faint due to your stress. But what is he supposed to do? You don’t seem to listen to his words and touching you might only make it worse. Maybe you need, assurance?

“I won’t hurt you, see? My hands have no intention of doing you any harm.”

Gently, he glides his fingertips up and down your uninjured harm. Despite the look of horror on your face and your gaping wounds, you do have a lovely face and truly remarkable eyes.

“I came here to help you”, he continues until his fingertips finally brush over your tear-soaked face.

What is this feeling of warmth deep inside his chest? You aren’t the first woman he saved from the claws of a demon.

“I would like to accompany you on your way back home-“

“No”, you suddenly blurt out.

Even though lying in bed on your own was all you were able to think about just a few moments ago, the thought feels like a threat now. What if another demon follows you back home? What if your little sister gets attacked because of your foolishness? No, you simply can’t go back now. But on the other hand…Just the thought of sleeping alone here in the woods runs shivers down your spine.

“I…I’ll find a place to stay. Otherwise…they might harm my sister…”, you mutter.

“Allow me to escort you to my estate, then.”

You yank your head to the side in sheer disbelief, eyes searching for a spark of humor in his calming orbs. Is he really serious about that? After all, you’re a stranger. He doesn’t even know your name. Now that you think of it…who is this?

“How can I know for sure that you aren’t a demon yourself?”

“Take my hand”, he instructs you gently.

Is this really a good idea? You take a deep breath in, try to calm down your pounding heart. What do you have to lose?

When your shaky fingers wrap themselves around his much larger hand, you get ingulfed by warmth. His palms feel rough but also comforting against your bruised skin.

“Demons are cold since they are dead”, he explains briefly.

“But I am not. I am a demon slayer. It is my only destiny to safe innocent souls from their death.”

Oh. Your gaze drifts towards a katana that hangs dangles from his belt. No, demon don’t find with those weapons. So, are those words really true?

“You…You want to help me?”

“I’d love to help you if you allow me to.”

What has gotten into him? Did he really offer you to hold his hand, let alone to sleep at his house so you don’t have to fear the night on your own? Never in his life, Yoriichi allowed himself to develop feelings apart from empathy for those around him.

But those eyes. Those eyes of yours really captivate him, devour him fully. How is he supposed to leave you out here, soaked in your own blood with bruises all over your body?

“You…really would?”

Is this really okay? When you were a child, your mother told you over and over that you aren’t allowed to talk to strangers, let alone man.

But…does that also include the handsome, charismatic and armored ones?

“I keep my word. Also, your wounds need care as well. Please, allow me to help you.”

What do you have to lose.

“If that’s the case, I’d love to take your offer”, you reply shyly.

“I’m glad to hear that. I will show you the way-“

A loud groan escapes your lips before you’re able to stop it. His charismatic eyes almost made you forget about the gaping wound the monster from before inflicted on you.

Almost.

“You shouldn’t move your leg with a wound like that. I will carry you to my estate.”

“You will…carry me?”, you mutter with widened eyes.

But just when you try to take a step forward, his words become painfully clear. No, there really is no way you’ll be able to walk anywhere with that leg. But allowing him to carry you?

“I might be a little heavy.”

“Let me assure you, you aren’t heavy at all.”

“Fine…”, you grumble.

“But only a few meters.”

Gently, he stranger wraps his arms around your shoulder and knees before he starts walking.

He smells good. Like a field of flowers on a sunny day. And the way his heart beats against your cheek reminds you that you’re still alive, that you survived somehow.

This man saved you.

“I didn’t even thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me. This is the least I can do for you after I almost came too late.”

He stares blankly at the blood that still drips from your leg. Just a few seconds later and that demon would have killed you with him simply watching. Why? Why is he not able to save them all, why is he still not good enough to stop this madness?

“Don’t tense up, don’t think anything less of yourself because I was injured. I was a fool for leaving the house this late at night on my own.”

Despite the fact that cold sweat still runs down your forehead and even though your fingertips still shake in shock, you cup his cheek and force his troubled eyes to look at you.

“I am beyond thankful for my rescue. The worst thing about dying today would have been leaving my little sister behind. But you saved me. And not only that, you even offered me a safe place to stay for the night. I really don’t know if…If I’d be able to sleep on my own tonight…”

The stranger doesn’t say a word, his eyes roaming around your face without a real aim.

“Oh, I didn’t even ask. What’s your name?”

“My name is not important-“

“I’m (y/n)”, you introduce yourself friendly.

“My…my name is Yoriichi”, the man carrying you mumbles.

Yoriichi. An unusual name that you’ve never heard before.

“That name suits you well.”

“We’ll arrive soon. I hope you don’t expect a big mansion since I am living in a rather small cottage-“

“I’m living in a tiny barrack in the city. A house in the woods sounds like a dream”, you mutter.

The second you open your eyes again, you find yourself in a wooden cabin with a plain futon lying on the floor and an improvised kitchen in the back of the house. Nothing special, very fitting for the man who gently lowers you onto the futon.

“I will take care of your wounds now”, he announces before taking off his haori and katana.

Without his threatful weapon dangling from his belt, he looks like a normal man.

If it wasn’t for those captivating eyes. He has to be the most breathtaking man you’ve ever seen.

“Fortunately, the cut on your leg isn’t deep. I’ll disinfect the wound and bandage it”, he explains briefly before his skilled hands spring into action.

“You really are good at everything”, you comment.

He’s so gentle that even the alcohol that disinfects your wound doesn’t seem to burn. Why have you never stumbled across him? You were so sure that you know each and every man around that it almost drove you insane. But him? He’s different from all the others. He’s truly special.

“You will have to take your kimono off. I need access to the wound on your shoulder.”

Oh.

“Y-yeah, sure…”

Hesitantly, you pull the blood-soaked fabric down your shoulder so that only your chest is still covered. Yoriichi’s eyes seem to gleam in the moonlight like liquid metal.

“You look lovely”, he flusters into the night.

He doesn’t know what has gotten into him. Is it the alcohol rising up his nose, the smell of blood that radiates from your bruised body that makes him say those strange things?

No. It has to be because of those eyes of yours. Those eyes that captivated him from the moment he first saw them.

"Thank you," you stammer, your cheeks flushing as you nervously tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"You too," you add quickly, immediately regretting your awkward response.

Both you and Yoriichi swallow hard, the atmosphere in the room suddenly changing.

“I am finished. You should rest for tonight. After all, this was a draining fight for you”, he mutters while getting up.

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, heart still hammering so roughly against your ribcage that you’re almost sure he’s able to hear it. What was this tension?

“But…this is your futon-“

“You are my guest. Of course, I will sleep on the floor on the other side of the room.”

Oh. A wave of disappointment rushes over you before you’re able to stop it. What were you expecting, secretly hoping? That this man will share a bed with you?

Honestly, yes.

“You…you really don’t have to…”

Oh, how much Yoriichi wished he wouldn’t have to.

“I insist on taking the floor.”

“I actually want you to sleep by my side. Please.”

The begging tone in your voice stops him mid-track.

“This night was…horrible. A little company would definitely help, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all”, he replies a little too hasty.

“I just don’t want to invade your personal space. After all, I’m a stranger.”

“A really kind stranger”, you add shyly.

Are you acting out of line? You shouldn’t push him to sleep next to you when his offer to let you sleep here is already generous enough, right?

“Forget my question, I was acting out of line-“

“No, not at all. I would love sleeping besides you.”

He crosses the room in an instant and kneels down next to you.

“But let me know whenever I become too much.”

What a ridiculous thought. Why would he ever become too much? Him, your savior, that remarkable man.

You scoot over until your back is pressed against the cool wall, eyes still fixated on his gleaming eyes. Will you really be able to sleep tonight when this is the first time ever a man lies beside you?

And what a handsome one on top.

“You should try to sleep now. Nothing will happen to you as long as I am here”, he reassures you.

That is the least he can do after failing to protect you in the first place.

“Again, thank you for all of this. I definitely own you a favor”, you mumble.

Suddenly your lids start to get heavy, your mind slows down bit by bit. Maybe this rough night really took its toll on you. Is It the safety he radiates, his calming smell? In the matter of seconds, only your low and even breath is heard.

Finally, Yoriichi is able to allow himself a closer look at you. You look so peaceful and innocent with a face so remarkably beautiful that he can’t stop staring. You have to be the prettiest woman he’s ever seen. A man like him really doesn’t deserve lying next to a woman like you. Maybe he should give you space, leave you now that you fell asleep-

With a quiet groan, you draw closer to him in your sleep until your head rests on top of his chest and with your arms wrapped around his upper body.

He doesn’t dare to move an inch, eyes widen in utter surprise. Is this…cuddling? His mind races back and forth, eyes resting on your calm features. What is he supposed to do now?

Hesitantly, he allows his hand to rest on your back. What an unknown sensation, all those feelings that rise up his chest right where your hand rests.

For the first time since forever, he is the one who feels safe.

He is the one who feels loved.

He is the one who feels warm.

And you? You cuddle yourself against him until the sun rises all over again.

Sanemi Shinazugawa

This one's for you @muichirolover14 🤍

“This is bullshit”, the man walking next to you mumbles under his breath.

“Keep focused. It was Kagaya-sama’s personal wish that the two of us go on this mission together”, you mumble with a fake smile decorating your bright red lips.

And that’s the only reason why you agreed in the first place. Why else would you pretend to be Sanemi Shinazugawa’s personal concubine if it wasn’t for Kagaya-sama and this undercover mission?

The plan is pretty simple. Countless people, including other demon slayers, lost their lives in this little innocent village that becomes a red-light district at night. Nobody knows why or who is responsible for this.

One of the upper moons, maybe.

It just made sense to dress you up as a concubine. After all, you are the light hashira, a mighty swordswoman and probably the most talented out of Mitsuri and Shinobu when it comes to acting.

And then there’s him. You glance at Sanemi’s annoyed face from the side. Why on earth did Kagaya-sama choose him? What about Rengoku, Giyu, Obanai, Tengen, Gyomei? Aren’t they a way better fit?

You sign to yourself.

Truth is, they aren’t. While Rengoku, Obanai, Tengen and Gyomei would stand out immediately, Giyu would never be able to sell you as his concubine. No, no one except the wind hashira is able to make this look natural.

No one but him looks this good in a dark green kimono.

What?

“Stop staring at me like that, brat”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

“I was just hoping you might disappear if I stare long enough, idiot”, you bite back in frustration.

Why does he always have to be so mean, though? You really tried to get along with him countless times, put on the most precious smile whenever you talked to him and made sure to always bring him ohagi whenever you had the chance to. But Sanemi Shinazugawa never stopped hating you. And eventually, a part of you started to dislike him as well. That one part though…

You allow your eyes a minor glimpse at his barely exposed chest. That tiny part deep within your head is somehow still drawn to him. And you hate it.

“Aren’t concubines supposed to shut up?”

“Watch your mouth or I’ll leave immediately.”

“Both of us know you wouldn’t do that.”

You let out your shaky breath, your hand crushing his while you wear the same friendly smile as before.

“Don’t mess with me, Shinazugawa”, you speak out with low voice.

His face tenses up ever so slightly, hand fighting for freedom out of your merciless grasp.

“You’ll regret talking to me like that when we’re alone, brat.”

-at the estate-

“I’d like to show you to my newest possession. Please introduce yourself”, Sanemi speaks out.

Like Amane-sama showed you, you bow in front of the man that looks you up and down with his filthy eyes.

“My name is Kiyomi”, you introduce yourself oh so sweetly.

“That name really suits you. What a beauty you are. I’m sure I’d find a lot of paying customers for you here”, the disgusting man purrs and stretches out his hand in order to touch your face.

“Don’t touch the goods”, Sanemi barks at him immediately before slapping his dirty hand away.

Who does this guy think he is, trying to touch you so casually? No. That jerk isn’t allowed to caress your face. The plain thought of men like him getting to put their hands on you…

Sanemi’s guts turn.

“Aren’t you here to sell her and yourself for the night? If that’s the case, she won’t be your good anymore for the next few hours but mine.”

He smiles at you through rotten teeth, his breath almost forcing you to choke. You are only here to detect the demon who is responsible for the countless deaths in this area. You don’t have to touch any of these men. None of them will touch you.

What about Sanemi, though? An uneasy feeling rises up your chest when your eye catches a group of women who stare him up and down with lust in their eyes. Will he allow himself a taste before continuing with this mission? Will he find a woman he is attracted to? All of them look flawless, too good to even consider the service of a paid men. But if that man looks like Sanemi…

“You will find your room to the right. This is where the female customers choose their good. After paying, you belong to them”, the man explains briefly while showing both of you around.

“Why would these women pay for the services of a man? This is a noble region that is well-inhabited by countless men”, you blurt out.

“It’s not about them being men. It’s about looks. Only the fine-looking men even get the chance to work here for the night”, he explains briefly.

Fine-looking man, huh? Well, there is no doubt in the fact that Sanemi suits that description way too good. With his firm muscles highlighted by scars from countless battles, he looks like a walking god. Let alone his perfect face, his eyes that now look soft and seducing without being irritated constantly. His white hair that frames his features perfectly.

“As for the women, we look for a broad variety of bodies, looks and personalities. You are very easy on the eye and mysterious. I’m sure countless customers will fall for that.”

“And what…what services do they expect?”

The man in front of you bursts out in hysteric laughter, you can feel Sanemi’s eyes piercing through your skull.

“What they expect? Intercourse and everything that revolves around it, of course! Do you think they pay you for some cuddles and nice words?”

You swallow hard. There is no need to do that, right? You’ll somehow shrug them off and investigate this place at night. Maybe you’ll find the demon right away and-

“Now, you are a fine-looking man. Who is this?”, a woman suddenly purrs out of the shadows.

“A new worker for the night”, the disgusting man explains with a dirty smile.

“Well, if that’s the case, I’ll definitely make a reservation.”

“It would be an honor, my lady”, suddenly replies in the same cheeky tone

Your guts turn in an instant, eyes narrowing slightly as you watch how a smile forms itself on Sanemi’s usual resting lips.

“What a gentleman he is. I cannot wait to meet you.”

“The honor is on my side, my lady.”

And then he steps in front of her. Elegantly, he grabs the hand she already holds out and kisses her knuckles. Your heartrate quickens, the warm flush that starts creeping up your face barely covered by your makeup.

Fucking asshole. So he’s acting like a jerk towards you all this time while treating other women like this? You hate the knot that forms itself in your throat, the disgusting feeling of disappointment that rushes over you.

Does he really hate you this much?

“Well, I think I should introduce myself to the customers as well. Have a pleasant night, Sir”, your monotone voice speaks out on its own.

With one last bow towards him, you follow the man into the women’s corridor without even gifting him a single look. Sanemi can’t help but furrow his eyebrows at your sudden reaction. Did you really want to get rid of him so badly? Maybe you’ll actually meet up with some of those guys and…

“Are you interested-“

“I will meet up with you later this evening, my lady. Please excuse me.”

Without another look or word, he storms into his assigned room and closes the door behind him.

Sanemi’s mind starts going insane. What if you actually like one of those guys? Or what if one of them hurts you, tries to force you into something you don’t want? He heard the worst stuff about places like this.

Fuck, he shouldn’t have let you go in the first place. Why you? This mission is way too dangerous for someone like you, for someone this gorgeous-

“I’m losing my fucking mind”, he mutters through gritted teeth.

“I can’t do this”, you breathe out in sheer panic while lying in bed.

No, just the thought of Sanemi having the fun of his life with that girl from earlier feels like ripping your beating heart out of your chest. Will he really share a bed with them?

If it’s for the mission, he definitely would. Nothing is greater than his urge to kill demons, especially when it comes to an upper ranked one. That little sacrifice wouldn’t stop him.

And it breaks your dumb heart.

A hard knock on the door rips you out of your running thoughts. Is this your first customer? All color drains from your face, eyes widen in horror with every bow against the wooden door.

“Just a moment”, your shaky voice shouts.

You…Do you have to look presentable? You have to think about the things you can tell him. Maybe you don’t even have to sleep with him, maybe this will distract you from the things Sanemi is probably doing right now.

You open the door.

And stare straight into the furious eyes of Sanemi Shinazugawa.

Before you’re even able to react, he pushes himself into your room and closes the door behind him before yanking you against the wall.

“What did you do?”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

Your heart starts hammering roughly against your ribcage. Him? Here?

“What the hell are you doing he-“

“Answer my question right now!”, he barks into your face.

“I didn’t do anything!”, you shriek.

“What the hell has gotten into you!?”

“Has somebody touched you?”

His rough hands start running up and down your neck, yank the sleeves of your kimono upwards in a haste.

“What?”, you breathe out.

What the hell is going on? Just when you managed to pull your arm away from him, he grabs your wrist again with his face only inches away from yours.

“Did somebody touch you?”, he screams into your face.

“No!”, you cry back.

“But why would you even care? It looked like you had plenty of fun!”

He shakes his head while looking at you in utter surprise and confusion.

“What non-sense are you talking now-“

“Did you sleep with that woman from earlier when I was gone?”

God, you hate the way your voice cracks in the middle of the sentence, you hate the way your eyes fill with hot tears. He came here to confront you with all those accusations while he was out there having the time of his life, while all you were able to think about is him?

“No, I didn’t sleep with anyone!”

“Stop lying to me!”

“You’re the only one I want!”, he suddenly blurts out breathlessly.

“What?”, you utter in hushed panic.

This has to be a cruel joke, an unforgiving way to stop you from doing anything. Sanemi Shinazugawa, wanting you?

“Since I first saw you with your fucking perfect face and so melodic voice, I can’t think about anything else! You, sleeping with some random guy while I’m just a few doors away. I can’t take it!”

He grabs your head with both hands, eyes staring at you so intensely that you feel like collapsing any minute. If that’s really true, if that’s really how he feels…

“But…I want you too”, you squirm.

“I always wanted you, Sanemi.”

His lips crash against yours with so much power that you almost fall over. Suddenly his hands are all over your body, tongue unforgiving as he discovers your mouth with a passion you’ve never felt before. You allow your very own hands to finally discover the deep valleys of his muscular back, to let your hasty fingertips wander over his tight chest.

It becomes unbearable. Everything starts to become unbearable. That minor gap between your bodies, the clothes that still deny you full access to his naked skin, the feeling of not having enough.

“I need more”, you whimper against his lips, not even knowing what exactly you’re asking about.

Sanemi lifts you up with ease, not even breaking the kiss when he pushes you onto the bed with his massive body lingering on top of you.

You feel like suffocating in the most exquisite way.

“I’ll give you whatever you want”, he breathes against your lips that now find your neck.

A whimper escapes your mouth before you can stop his, body rearing up underneath him.

“S-Sanemi!”

“Fuck”, he hisses before his dark eyes meet you again in distress.

“Tell me you want this.”

“I…what?”

You can’t produce a single logical sound, head still spinning from the unknown sensation that starts building up inside your stomach. Is this what desire feels like?

“Tell me you want this too. Tell me you want me.”

“I wanted you all this time”, you reply without thinking twice.

With a swift motion, you find yourself engulfed by his arms with his lips caressing yours all over again. Like in trance, you begin opening his kimono, expose his bare skin to your merciless eyes.

“You look so shamelessly good”, you whimper.

Oh, how often you pondered about how his chest feels like, if his scars are soft or as rough as his walls.

“Can I…?”

His hands grab the ends of your kimono, eyes staring down at you flustered. Is that blush creeping up his cheeks?

“It’s just…You know…I’ve never done this before…”, you stammer.

“Do I look like I did, idiot?”, he mutters while gently taking off your kimono until you lay underneath him.

Completely naked.

“I mean, yes…”

“No, I didn’t”, he barks.

“I guess I waited for someone special…”

“I did as well”, you reply in an instant.

Is this real or are you dreaming? Sanemi Shinazugawa laying on top of you fully nude. Sanemi Shinazugawa stating that he likes you. Sanemi Shinazugawa’s hand that start moving downwards…

Until he reaches between your legs and simply takes your breath away.

“Are you okay?”, he mutters, eyes filled with worry.

You nod absently, eyes rolling back into your skull. God, this feels like heaven. When a groan escapes his lips, you completely lose yourself. Out of instinct, you grab his neck and yank him even closer towards you, your hot breath clashing against his face.

“Sanemi!”

His name sounds like a prayer coming from your mouth, forces his fingers to move even faster. Is this good? Is he doing everything alright? Your whimpers grow louder and louder, nails digging into his now oversensitive skin with so much pressure that it threatens to burst. You look so gorgeous with your eyes pressed shut, your delicate mouth forming an “o”.

And then you burst right underneath him, scream his name over and over again with your legs shaking. He can’t wait no longer, can’t contain himself another second.

“I need you”, he mutters.

“Please, let me have you.”

“Yes”, you breathe out, mind still spinning when the firework that just exploded in your lower body slowly starts wearing off.

Until you feel him all over again. But this time, not his fingers. Your glossy eyes widen in utter surprise when he carefully stretches you out and disappears inside of you, hands holding onto him for dear life.

“Are you okay?”, he whimpers.

“Please…give me…more…”

He almost loses his mind, the new sensation almost eating him up alive. Countless nights, he dreamed about what it might be like to have you, what it would feel like. But the reality is so much better than any dream.

Sanemi picks up his pace and grabs your waist passionately in order to keep you in place. Over and over, again and again your sticky skin collides with his until he threatens to burst.

“You’re mine”, he presses out through gritted teeth while pounding into you.

“I’m all yours, Sanemi!”, you cry out, nails now leaving marks on his skin.

“I need…ah! I need you! Please!”

He knows exactly what you’re asking for. One last time, he picks up the pace while holding onto you for dear life.

Until finally, you scream his name. Finally, he’s able to let it all go.

“(y/n)!”

He collapses on top of you, his weight leaving you dizzy and unable to move. None of you dares to make a move, the only thing that’s filling the room being your shaky and sharp breaths.

“I love you, (y/n)”, Sanemi finally mutters, his hand caressing your cheek oh so gently.

“I love you too-“

“Mission report, mission report! Kagaya-sama requires a mission re- AH!”

“Get out of here right now!”, Sanemi barks at the crow that casually entered the room.

“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!?”

“Get out!”, Sanemi screams on top of his lungs before yanking up and hunting the crow butt-naked through the room

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine @laurencrsnt

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rafes-slut · 2 months ago

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Thighs obsession

Pairing: Rafe cameron x girlfriend

Warnings: rafe being obsessed with his girls thighs

Summary: rafe is obsessed with your thighs and he has to touch them and kisse them at all given time to do so

────୨ৎ────

Rafe Cameron had an obsession—an all-consuming, insatiable fixation on his girlfriend’s thighs.

It wasn’t just a casual appreciation, not a passing glance or an occasional touch. No, it was something deeper, something primal. Rafe needed to have his hands on them, his mouth on them, his entire body pressed against them whenever he got the chance. It wasn’t just about the way they looked—though he’d be the first to say they were perfect. It was the way they felt beneath his touch, how soft they were, how warm they got when he left his mark.

And he made sure to do that often.

1. Movie Nights

It started innocently enough. At least, that’s what she told herself. She and Rafe were curled up on the couch, a random movie playing, one she’d barely been able to focus on for the past thirty minutes because Rafe’s head was resting comfortably on her lap.

His fingers traced absent patterns along the inside of her thigh, his touch featherlight, teasing. He wasn’t even watching the screen, completely enthralled with her instead. Every so often, he’d press a slow, open-mouthed kiss against the bare skin of her thighs, his lips dragging lazily over them.

“You’re not watching the movie,” she murmured, fingers threading through his hair.

“Don’t need to,” Rafe mumbled against her skin, his voice thick with something heavy. “Got a better view right here.”

He turned his head, biting down just enough to make her gasp. She could already feel the bruise forming, another mark he’d be satisfied to see when she changed later.

2. The Club

Rafe was possessive. Everyone knew that. And it became glaringly obvious whenever they were out in public.

She had worn a dress that night, one that barely skimmed mid-thigh, and Rafe had not been pleased. Not because he didn’t love the way she looked in it—God, he did—but because it meant everyone else would see what was his.

So he made sure to remind her.

The club was packed, loud, full of bodies pressed together, but Rafe didn’t care about any of them. His focus was on her, on the way she was sitting in their booth, one leg crossed over the other. His hand found its way to her knee, slowly dragging up her thigh, squeezing, kneading, making sure she felt every bit of his frustration.

“You like making me crazy, don’t you?” he muttered in her ear, lips brushing the sensitive spot below it.

She shivered but didn’t answer, only smirking when he sinked on his knees pressing a lingering kiss against her thigh.

3. Waking Up

Mornings with Rafe were dangerous.

Mostly because he was impossible to get out of bed, especially when his favorite pillow wasn’t the one on the bed but rather her thighs.

She had woken up to find him sprawled across her legs, arms wrapped around them, face pressed against her bare skin. His breathing was slow, steady, but as soon as she moved, his grip tightened.

“Stay,” he murmured sleepily, nuzzling against her.

“Rafe, we have to get up.”

“Don’t care.”

She sighed, running a hand through his messy hair, and that was when he finally looked up at her, a lazy smirk on his lips. “Unless you want to give me another reason to stay in bed…”

His teeth grazed the inside of her thigh, and she sucked in a breath.

Yeah, they weren’t getting up anytime soon.

4. Arguments and Apologies

Fighting with Rafe was inevitable. He had a temper, a stubbornness that rivaled hers, and sometimes things got heated.

But his apologies? They were just as intense.

He had her pinned against the wall, frustration still burning in his eyes, but his lips were on her thighs, moving over every inch of bare skin. His hands gripped her waist, holding her steady as he pressed kiss after kiss, soothing over the marks his earlier grip had left.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he murmured against her skin, nipping at her thigh just enough to make her whimper.

She tangled her fingers in his hair, tugging slightly, and he groaned, looking up at her with darkened eyes. “You love it,” he accused.

She did.

And she loved him, thigh obsession and all.

Rafe Cameron was relentless, but when it came to her thighs, he was absolutely insatiable.

#rafecameron #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron #rafe x you #rafe smut #rafe #rafe x reader #rafe x y/n #rafe x sofia #outerbanks rafe #rafe outer banks

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captain-huggy-bear · 3 months ago

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Eyes on Me

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Luke being a whiny possessive baby, but actually this is all silly fluff and he's just a silly boy who wants all your attention.

Summary: Your relationship with Luke is as serious as it gets and your relationship with his family is as close as they come. Luke can't help but love it, even as he jealously wants all your attention especially whenever his brothers seem to hog it

Notes: Request for @toasttt11, I hope you enjoy it, I went a slightly different route with it but I hope its okay! 🥰

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

You never had a particularly close family. Your family was small, and while you loved them, your family was one of those more aloof types, not so emotional or as close as typical families. The type of family you worried about telling things to in case they made fun of you or told you off or simply didn't listen. A family where they gave presents that were relatively generic because they didn't really know each other. A family where cousins didn't regularly see each other. Luke's family was the complete opposite. Warm, welcoming and large, even his extended family of cousins and aunts and uncles were close. It was a whole different world, but it showed you what family could really look like and what it could feel like.

At first it had been intimidating. To come into this family unit where everyone was so close, where everyone talked and shared their thoughts and feelings without fear of judgement. Where gifts were thoughtful and meaningful and everyone knew what everyone had been up to lately and no one forgot a birthday. At first you'd been scared you simply wouldn't fit in, that you'd make mistakes, forget to do something, offend someone.

Luke had been insistent that you'd fit in perfectly and he'd been absolutely right. His parents loved you, Jim and Ellen immediately treating you like a daughter. Ellen was more excited to see you than her own sons at holidays, always rushing to be the first person to wrap you in a warm hug and bring you inside. Ellen regularly talked to you over the phone and sent you whatsapps to see how you were doing. Jim always had a word of wisdom or a reassuring wink on hand if the boys were getting rowdy and out of pocket. Then there was Jack and Quinn, Jack and Quinn who were the epitome of what brothers should be. They were the first to step in and help you if Luke wasn't around, the first to make fun of you light heartedly for something silly you'd done and the first to add you to your very own group chat with the brothers, Luke not invited, because often you used it to discuss what to buy the impossible to buy for boy. They made you feel settled in the family unit, they felt like real brothers to you, as much a part of your life as Luke was.

Luke was happy about it, of course he was. You were it for him, he was 99.9% certain he was going to marry you, the 0.1% being the off chance that you decided you didn't want to marry him. So naturally seeing you fall in so perfectly with his family, seeing you grow more and more comfortable, the closeness of your relationship with all of them it made him ache with warmth and affection. But, he hated sharing you. He couldn't help it. He'd always shared things with his brothers, clothes, jerseys, toys. Not because he had to, but because that's just what they did. But, you were the first thing in his life that he didn't want to share.

Even now, watching from the doorway of the lake house kitchen as you laugh with Jack and Quinn, there's a sense of jealousy that your attention isn't on him. It's stupid. He doesn't have any worries about you not loving him or preferring his brothers, but he can't help but want your attention on him, can't help but want you to smile and laugh at him, for his brothers to be background noise. It's cave-manish and stupid and he'd never admit to it because Jack and Quinn would make fun of him for the rest of his entire existence...but it's there.

"You're ridiculous, Jack. If you were a worm, Luke would not keep you in a terrarium. He'd throw you out a window, while screaming!" You laugh at Jack, shoving his shoulder as he glares you. He's been adamant for the past 3 minutes that his brother would care for him in sickness and in worm and while sweet, you both know that Luke hates insects, he absolutely hates anything wriggly and crawly, a worm is no exception. Even if that worm was his brother.

"No, no, see my brother loves me and he would keep me in a little terrarium until the day I or he dies and you would have to watch as he gave me all his attention!"

"I'd throw you out the window. Let some bird eat you." You smile as you say it, the bite not there. You both know you wouldn't but the offended gasp Jack lets out is enough to make it appealing to say.

"You wouldn't." Jack's blue eyes narrow on you and you stifle your laugh, arms crossing as you glance at Quinn who's shaking his head at the both of you refusing to get involved.

"You're right, I'd hand feed you to a bird."

"Quinn?!" Jack looks to his older brother, eyes wide like he expects him to intervene and put you on the naughty step or something equally as comical. Instead Quinn simply holds his hands up in surrender.

"I'm not getting involved. This is a ridiculous argument because we all know I'd be the one who'd end up taking care of you."

"Quinn has a point-" You stop yourself short as you feel strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you back against a warm chest. Luke's chin coming to rest on top of your head as he crushes you against him, his fingers slipping under your hoodie to rest on your waist.

"What you talking about?" It's mumbled into your hair, a quick kiss pressed there. He knows he's glowering at Jack and Quinn, mostly Jack. Jack who's gotten that teasing glint in his eyes at the realisation that Luke's scowl is because his girlfriend is focused on his brother, his stupid, pretty boy brother that all the girls seem to want. You are oblivious to this, leaning back into Luke like its second nature.

"How you would throw Jack to the birds if he turned into a worm."

"Mmm, true." His voice is short, shorter than normal and it makes your ears perk up as does the way he pulls you even tighter against him and a little bit further from his brothers like he's trying to pull you away. You wonder if maybe something had happened that's put him in a grumpy mood even as you look between Quinn and Jack who both seem to smirk at their brother standing behind you.

"Lukey, I'm your brother!" Even as Jack pretends to be offended he's grinning. His little brother is practically glaring at him, eyes just visible above your hair where he's burrowed his face.

"And?"

"Luke!" You turn in his arms, forcing him to look at you and for the first time you see the glower on his face, the sort of look you've seen only a handful of times. The same look you've seen him direct at men in bars who bother you, except this look is very much directed at Jack.

"What? I hate worms!"

"Mm, okay, what if I turned into a worm?" You pout up at him, wide eyes focused on him and he can't help but lose a bit of the glower because your attention is on him now and not on Jack.

Luke's hands find their way to your back pockets, pulling you close against him even as his brothers groan at the unnecessary PDA between their baby brother and his girlfriend.

"I'd keep you in my pocket wherever I went until I could find some scientist to turn you back." He smiles down at you sweetly, all traces of the former scowl removed now that his attention is on you and you brush some of his curls from his face as he does so. His smile only grows warmer at your attention, a sense of puffed up pride that he's got all your attention now, and his brothers have none of it.

From behind you you hear Jack whine, "Why am I thrown to the birds but sunshine over here is kept in your pocket?"

"She's my future wife?" You can't help the bashful sort of smile that overtakes your face and forces it to scrunch up and grow warm at his words. You hide your face in his chest, giddy at him calling you his future wife even when you're not even engaged and unlikely to be engaged any time soon given where you both are in life.

"Oh and I'm just chopped liver?" Jack doesn't even get a response, Luke's too busy staring at you, smiling down at you with lovesick little grin he gets. His hands are still in your back pockets and yours have migrated to hold him around the waist as you look up at him, chin leaning against his sternum.

"Talk to your boyfriend." You look over your shoulder at Jack, who's scowling at his brother like he's been betrayed. You suppose in a sense he has, seeing as Luke has decided you're more worthy of pocket worm privileges than his older brother is.

"Lukey, baby, you can't throw your brother to the birds."

"Why not?"

"Because he's your brother." He's pouting at you like a five year old and it really shouldn't be cute, it should be so annoying that he's acting like this but its not. It's cute, it's playful and you can't help but find everything Luke does endearing.

"But, he's taking all your attention away from me..." His voice is whiny, drawn out and annoyed as he frowns down at you, his hands pulling you even tighter to him like Jack might physically pull you away.

"Is that what this all about? Are you jealous of your brother?" You can hear Quinn and Jack sniggering at the background, you know they'll never let him live this down not until the day he dies.

"No..." Luke looks away from you, a bright red flush crawling up his neck, to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He can hear his brothers making fun of him, but he can't help it. He wants your attention all the time and he hates that Jack had it, even as much as he loves that Jack and you get along.

"Baby, Oh, baby...you know I only want you, right?" You cup his cheeks in your hands, tilting your head right back to look at him. He flushes further, cheeks so warm under your palms that you're a little worried he might grow lightheaded. Made only worse by your sweet voice and softness with him, "Jack's nowhere near as pretty as you."

You giggle at the offended, "Hey!" behind you. But, you know Luke needs to hear it, know he compares himself to his brothers even if he tries not too. He knows Jack has a reputation as the fan favourite with women, the pretty boy, but, God, Luke is so pretty to you.

"Really?" His grin that begins is the one you love most, where his teeth peek out and his cheeks dimple deeply. It crinkles his eyes and for anyone looking from the outside in it is so obvious he is absolutely in love with you, smitten, whipped, completely taken with you. If you were in an episode of Tom and Jerry his eyes would be hearts popping from his head.

"Mmm, no one is prettier than my future husband, honey." You're pandering to him and he knows that, he doesn't care though. Revels in it when you lean up on tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek, grins at Jack over your head like Jack even cares because Jack most certainly does not care that his brother's girlfriend doesn't find him that pretty. In fact, he's glad. How awkward with family dinners be if you did think Jack was prettier?

But, Jack draws the line at the PDA you're starting to display. He draws the line when Luke crashes his lips down on yours in what can only be described as an 'eating faces' sort of kiss, the sort where you're a little worried for each participants health and ability to breathe.

"Eww, c'mon Quinn, lets get out here. Ew." Jack grabs Quinn by the arm and pull him outside, but you're not really focusing on that, not when Luke is ushering you to a kitchen counter and up so that you can wrap your legs around his hips and kiss him easier.

Yeah, he's jealous sometimes that his brothers get along so well with you, but he knows that you're it for him and he's it for you. He doesn't mind feeling a little jealous, not when you remind him so thoroughly that you could care less about Jack or Quinn in anyway that isn't entirely brotherly.

#huggy bear writes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes/reader #nhl imagine #nhl x reader

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tobiosbbyghorl · 27 days ago

Text

Let your body loose~ | psh 🔞

word count: 4.95k

pairing:situationship!Sunghoon x reader

synopsis: At a wild college party, months of tension in your messy situationship with Park Sunghoon finally explode into a heated hookup. What started as casual teasing and blurred lines turns into something neither of you can ignore—forcing you both to question if it was just lust or something deeper.

The party was loud. Too loud. The kind of loud that made your chest vibrate and your ears ring, the bass of the music drowning out even your thoughts. Bodies swayed to the rhythm of the beat, red solo cups spilled drinks on the floor, and laughter echoed off the walls of the packed house. But none of it mattered.

Not when he was in the room.

Not when Park Sunghoon was watching you again.

You felt his gaze before you saw him—hot, heavy, laced with something between a dare and a promise. When your eyes finally met his from across the room, it was like a switch flipped inside you.

“It’s just me and you,” the lyrics echoed through the speakers, almost too perfectly timed.

Your heart picked up its pace.

I can feel my heart racing

It’s so hard to keep cool…

He wasn’t even trying to hide it tonight—the way his eyes dragged down your body, lingering on the hem of your skirt, the way your ponytail sat high and neat. You caught the subtle raise of his brow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. It sent a wave of heat down your spine.

Am I being too patient?

Too hot, got me sweatin’ on the floor

I just can’t take it anymore…

This wasn’t new. You and Sunghoon had been dancing around something for months now—flirty looks in class, “accidental” touches at frat parties, and a drunken kiss that had spiraled into a night you both pretended never happened… until it started happening again. And again.

You called it nothing. He never gave it a name. But tonight?

Tonight, you didn’t want to pretend anymore.

You pushed through the crowd, trying to find some air, but Sunghoon was already there. He blocked your path with that lazy confidence only he could pull off—arms crossed, smile cocky, eyes dark with something intense

“I’ve been waiting to get next to you,” he said lowly, voice nearly drowned by the music, “and I can tell how bad you want it too.”

You didn’t deny it. Couldn’t.

You were so close now—just inches apart. The tension between you was magnetic, intoxicating, burning like a fuse that had been lit way too long.

And we’re so close I can taste it

I see it in your eyes

If there’s a chance I’ma take it

I’m begging you, just please give me a sign

Waiting way too long, I think it’s time…

You didn’t need to give him a sign. You were the sign. The look in your eyes said everything.

So when his hand slid down to your waist and pulled you into the dark hallway, you let him.

When your back hit the wall and his mouth hovered just over yours, you didn’t hesitate.

You kissed him first.

It was heat and need and months of holding back exploding all at once. His hands found your hips, your hair, your jaw—touches urgent, desperate, like he’d been dying to do this again. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, dragging him impossibly closer.

All this magic’s burning like a fire inside

And it is way too hot, girl, we should let it loose…

“Been thinking about this all night,” he muttered against your lips, voice rough.

Your ponytail had come undone somewhere between the hallway and him pinning you gently against the closed door. He ran his fingers through your hair, pulling it loose, just like he always said he liked it.

“Ponytail sittin’ just right…” he quoted the song with a grin. “But down looks even better on you.”

You rolled your eyes, breathless, laughing against his lips as you kissed him again. “Shut up and kiss me.”

And he did.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed there—making out like the house wasn’t filled with people who could walk by, like you hadn’t promised yourself you’d be cool tonight. But Sunghoon never played fair.

Especially when it came to you.

His lips ghosted down your neck, and your head tilted back with a quiet moan.

“All this tension, baby, let your body loose…”

It wasn’t just about lust. Not anymore. It was the build-up, the months of wondering if he felt it too. And now, here you were—finally letting it out, finally letting it loose.

When he pulled back, just slightly, foreheads touching and breath uneven, he looked at you like you were the only one in the world.

“Don’t wanna waste another second tonight,” he whispered, echoing the song in the background, his lips brushing yours as he counted low—

“5, 4, 3, 2…”

You crashed into him again before he could say “1.”

Your kiss grew deeper, your hands more demanding. The party's din faded into the background, leaving only the rhythm of your hearts pounding together. You felt his hands sneak under your shirt, caressing the bare skin of your waist, and a thrill shot through you.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, and he took that as an invitation to kiss along your jawline, his breath warm against your neck."We can't do this here," you managed to say, even though your body begged to stay right where it was.

Sunghoon chuckled, his breath tickling your skin. “I know a better place.” He took your hand and led you through the party, the music thumping in your chest like a second heartbeat. The touch of his skin on yours sent electric jolts through your body, making you feel alive in a way you hadn't in months.

You followed him up the stairs, passing drunken partygoers who barely registered your presence. The anticipation grew with each step until you reached the top floor and he pushed open a door to a quieter, more private part of the house.

The room was dimly lit with the glow of a lava lamp, the bed unmade, and the air thick with the scent of cologne. You didn't need to ask whose room it was. He pulled you in, closing the door with a firm click, and the outside world was effectively shut out. The music was a muffled throb now, a distant echo of the passion pounding through your veins.

He turned to face you, and his eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of doubt. You didn't find any in yourself. You stepped closer, reaching up to trace his jawline with your fingertips, feeling the stubble that always seemed to be just right. He leaned into your touch, eyes half-lidded, and it was like you were speaking a language that didn't require words.

With a gentle tug, you led him to the bed, and he followed without protest. The room was a haze of shadows and soft light, the perfect setting for what was about to unfold.

Your hands moved with newfound urgency, unbuttoning his shirt, revealing the strong lines of his abs, the planes of his chest. He returned the favor, his thumbs brushing the sensitive skin of your stomach as he lifted your shirt over your head. His eyes devoured you, and you felt a rush of desire, mixed with the thrill of being so openly desired.

Sunghoon’s lips found yours again, his kisses leaving a trail of fire down your neck. His hands cupped your breasts over your bra, his thumbs circling your hardened nipples through the lace. You arched into his touch, a whimper escaping your lips.

He pulled back just enough to murmur, “Do you want me to keep going?”

You nodded, breathless, your voice a whisper, “Yes, Sunghoon, please.”

His smile grew wicked as he reached behind you, unclipping your bra with a swift motion. It fell to the floor, forgotten, as his palms grazed your bare skin, sending shivers down your spine. Your breasts were now exposed to him, and his gaze dropped to them with unabashed hunger. Sunghoon's warm, wet mouth closed around one of your nipples, sucking on it gently at first before increasing the pressure. You gasped, your fingers curling into his hair, holding him closer as your knees buckled slightly.

The sensation was exquisite, a perfect blend of pleasure and pain that had you arching into him, desperate for more.As he continued to worship your breasts, you couldn’t help but grind against his erection, which was straining against his jeans. The friction between your bodies sent sparks flying through your core.

He pulled away just enough to look into your eyes, and you could see the need in them, mirroring your own. "I need you," he said, his voice low and gruff with desire. And just like that, all your doubts dissipated like mist in the sun. You needed him too.

With eager hands, you both worked to rid yourselves of the remaining barriers. Buttons popped open, zippers zipped down, and fabric was tossed aside in a frenzy of passion. The sound of your clothes hitting the floor seemed to echo in the quiet room, a stark contrast to the party's chaos outside. Each piece of discarded clothing brought you closer to the moment you've been craving.

Sunghoon laid you down on the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. The mattress sank slightly under your weight, enveloping you in a soft embrace that only heightened the anticipation. He kissed down your chest, his tongue teasing your collarbone before moving to your stomach. His hands found the waistband of your jeans, and with a swift motion, he unbuttoned them, sliding them down your legs. You watched as he took in the sight of you, his eyes dark with desire.

"Let your body loose," he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and tantalizing.

"Trust me." He gently spread your legs apart and began to kiss along your inner thighs, his mouth moving closer and closer to the apex of your thighs. His hands caressed your skin, sending waves of pleasure that made you quiver with anticipation.

When his tongue finally touched you, it was a slow, deliberate lick that made you gasp. He licked slowly, savoring the taste of you, exploring every fold and crevice with a patience that was both maddening and incredibly erotic. His touch was light, feathery, as if he were trying to memorize the map of your body with the softness of his tongue.

You couldn't help but squirm beneath him, moaning his name as he teased you closer and closer to the edge. The pressure built up inside you like a dam about to burst, and you felt your muscles tighten around his mouth. He chuckled darkly, the vibration of his laughter sending shockwaves through your core. His fingers found their way into your wetness, moving in sync with his tongue, building the intensity of your pleasure.

The sensation of his mouth on you was unlike anything you'd ever felt before. Each stroke of his tongue was a promise, each touch of his fingers a declaration of his desire. Your hips rocked against his face, seeking more, needing more. He gave it to you willingly, his movements growing more urgent as he felt you getting closer. Your moans grew louder, and you had to bite your lip to keep from screaming out his name for the whole house to hear.

Sunghoon's dirty whispers filled the air, his voice a seductive rumble that made your toes curl. "You're so wet for me," he said, his breath hot against your skin. "I can taste how much you want this." He licked you faster, his tongue flicking against your clit in a relentless rhythm that had you seeing stars. The room spun around you, the only thing grounding you was the feel of his hands gripping your hips, holding you in place as he devoured you.

As your climax subsided, your body went limp, a boneless heap of satisfaction on the bed. Sunghoon kissed his way back up your body, leaving a trail of sweet, gentle kisses in his wake. He hovered above you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of regret. But all you felt was the afterglow of your orgasm, a warmth that suffused your entire being.

With a smug smile, he whispered, "Now, it's your turn to make me feel good." He sat back on his haunches and unzipped his pants, pulling out his erection. It stood proud and thick, a testament to his desire for you. The sight of him like this, so raw and exposed, made you ache to taste him, to bring him the same pleasure he'd just given you.

You leaned forward, your eyes locked on his, and placed a gentle kiss on the tip of his cock. He groaned, his hands tightening on the bed sheets as you took him into your mouth. He was long and pale, the girth of him stretching your lips wide. You began to crawl down the length of him, your tongue dancing over his shaft, tasting the saltiness of his pre-cum. Your cheeks hollowed out as you took more of him in, your moans vibrating along his length.

The room was filled with the sound of your wet, eager mouth on him, the smell of desire thick in the air. You felt a rush of power as you watched his chest heave with each breath, his hips rising slightly to meet your ministrations. Your hands wrapped around the base of his cock, stroking in time with your mouth, creating a symphony of pleasure that had him panting your name.

You took him deeper, feeling the head of his cock hit the back of your throat, the sensation of him filling you completely. His hands found their way into your hair, guiding you, encouraging you to go further, to push past the boundaries of what you've ever done before. And you did, eager to give him what he needed, eager to feel him come apart under your touch.

Sunghoon’s dirty talk grew more intense, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through your very bones. "That's it, baby, suck me like that," he groaned, his eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back in ecstasy.

"You're so good, so fucking perfect." His words were like a drug, making your body come alive with a need that was insatiable. You swirled your tongue around his tip, tasting the pre-cum that beaded there, feeling his thighs tense beneath your hands.

"Look at me," he demanded, his voice strained. You obeyed, raising your gaze to meet his eyes, watching as his pupils dilated with pleasure.

"Keep looking at me while you make me come." You took him deeper, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat, and his fingers tightened in your hair. He whispered filthy words that sent a shiver down your spine, his praise mixing with the lewd sounds of your mouth working him.

His hips began to buck, and you knew he was close. You doubled your efforts, your hand pumping him in time with your mouth, feeling the pulse of his impending climax. The room was a blur of heat and need, and you were lost in the sensation of giving him everything he wanted.

As he grew closer to the edge, you reached down and cupped his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze. Sunghoon's eyes shot open, his breath hissing out between clenched teeth. "Fuck," he murmured, his voice tight with restraint.

You took him even deeper, your throat adjusting to the intrusion, and began to massage his balls in earnest. The skin was soft and warm, tightening in your grip as he grew closer to climax. Each time you squeezed, you felt his cock pulse in your mouth, his hips jerking in response.

With a strangled groan, Sunghoon's eyes snapped open and met yours, the intensity of his gaze almost overwhelming. You felt the muscles in your own thighs tighten in anticipation as he reached down to grip your shoulders. His breathing grew ragged, and the muscles in his stomach tensed as he held back, trying to prolong the exquisite agony of the moment.

Then, with a final, desperate thrust of his hips, he came. The warmth of his release filled your mouth, and you swallowed reflexively, feeling a thrill of power at the thought of him coming inside you, marking you as his. You continued to suck him gently as he spasmed, his release pulsing against your tongue. His fingers tightened in your hair, and he moaned your name, his eyes squeezed shut as he rode out the waves of pleasure that crashed through him.

When he finally went still, you pulled back, licking your lips clean of the last drops of his cum. You looked up at him, feeling a sense of pride and satisfaction. Sunghoon's chest was heaving, his skin slick with a fine sheen of sweat. He looked down at you with a mix of awe and lust, his eyes glazed with pleasure. He reached down, caressing your cheek gently before pulling you up to kiss you deeply. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and the intimacy of it had you melting into him, your body humming with desire once again.

"Need you inside me, baby," you murmured against his lips, the words coming out in a needy whine.

He groaned in response, his cock twitching with renewed interest. You reached down and stroked him, feeling him harden in your hand. He kissed you again, his tongue delving into your mouth as if he couldn't get enough of you.

With a gentle push, Sunghoon laid you down on the bed, the softness of the mattress a stark contrast to the urgent need pulsing through your body. He positioned himself behind you, his hands on your hips, guiding you onto your knees. You felt the heat of his body at your back as he whispered, "Spread your legs wider." You obeyed, the anticipation making your stomach flutter. He kissed along your spine, his breath hot and uneven.

"You're so beautiful like this," he murmured, his voice thick with lust.

His mouth trailed down, pressing kisses to the small of your back, until he reached the curve of your buttocks. He nibbled and licked, making you squirm with delight. And then, without warning, his tongue slid into your folds, making you gasp. He kissed your pussy with the same passion he had kissed your mouth earlier, his tongue exploring, tasting. The sensation was so intense, so intimate, that you felt your walls clench around his fingers, which were still teasing you from within. His mouth moved in sync with his hand, his tongue swirling around your clit while he pumped into you, driving you closer to the edge once more.

Sunghoon whispered sweet nothings into your ear, his breath hot against your shoulder as he held you in place. "You're mine," he murmured, "all of you, baby." His words sent shivers down your spine as his tongue flicked against your sensitive flesh, the pleasure building within you like a storm about to break. He knew exactly what you needed, his touch as familiar as your own breath.

With one powerful thrust, he entered you from behind, filling you completely. You gasped, the suddenness of the sensation making your eyes roll back in your head. He didn't give you time to adjust, immediately setting a punishing pace, his hips slamming into you with an urgency that left no room for thought. Each thrust was a declaration of his hunger for you, a demand for your submission that you were all too eager to give.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with the moans that spilled from both of your mouths. Each time he pushed into you, you felt your body stretch around him, the feeling of fullness overwhelming and delicious. Your moans grew louder, matching his own, the symphony of your pleasure echoing in the quiet room. The bed creaked under your combined weight, a testament to the intensity of your lovemaking.

Sunghoon's hand reached around, finding your clit and rubbing it in time with his thrusts. Your moans grew louder, your body tightening around him as the pressure built once again. His other hand was on your hip, holding you steady as he pounded into you, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass adding to the erotic crescendo. You could feel the heat of his breath on your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he whispered filthy words of praise and encouragement.

"You're so tight, baby," he groaned, his voice thick with desire. "Your pussy is squeezing me like a glove." His words sent a fresh wave of arousal through you, making your walls clench even tighter around him. "You're going to make me come so hard," he murmured, his teeth grazing your earlobe. The raw, carnality of his words had you panting, desperate for more.

"Miss this cock so much, Hoonie," you managed to gasp out, the words coming out more as a moan than actual speech. Sunghoon stilled for a moment, his eyes widening slightly before a feral grin spread across his face. "You do, don't you?" He chuckled, his voice filled with a dark satisfaction.

He slammed back into you, his hips moving in a punishing rhythm that had you crying out. "Yes! Yes! Fuck me, Sunghoon," you screamed, your voice echoing in the small space. His name was a mantra on your lips, a plea for more, for harder, for everything he had to give. You felt your second orgasm approaching like a freight train, barreling towards you with unstoppable force.

The room was a blur of motion and sensation, the only thing in focus was the feeling of him inside you, the way he filled you up and stretched you to your limits. Your body responded to his touch like it had been starved, each caress and thrust bringing you closer to the brink. His hand found yours, our fingers intertwining as he fucked you, as if trying to anchor you to the earth as you soared higher and higher.

With a grunt of pure need, Sunghoon flipped you over onto your back, his grip on your wrists tightening as he pinned your hands above your head. He hovered over you, his eyes blazing with desire, and pushed your legs up to your chest. The sudden change in angle sent a jolt of pleasure through you, making your toes curl and your back arch off the bed. His cock pressed against your throbbing entrance, and with one swift thrust, he was back inside, filling you completely. The sensation was almost too much to handle, a mix of pain and pleasure that made you see white stars.

“Feel that baby?” he growled, his eyes never leaving yours as he began to move again. His hips rocked into you, a punishing rhythm that had you crying out with each stroke. The way he filled you up, so completely, so perfectly, was a declaration of his possession. His eyes searched yours, looking for the same wild need that he knew was mirrored in his own. “That’s me, all of me, inside you. Only me.”

You felt your walls tighten around him, the sensation of him stretching and claiming you with every thrust. It was like nothing else existed but the two of you, lost in this dance of desire. You nodded, unable to form words, your body speaking for you as it arched and trembled beneath his. Each time he pulled out, you could feel the emptiness before he plunged back in, a delicious mix of pain and pleasure that had you writhing against him.

"Hoonie," you gasped out, your voice strained. "I'm...I'm so close." His eyes lit up, a feral glint that sent a shiver down your spine. He leaned down, his mouth claiming yours in a bruising kiss that stole the breath from your lungs. His hips never ceased their relentless rhythm, his cock hitting that perfect spot deep inside you that had your toes curling and your nails digging into his skin.

"Me too, baby," he murmured against your lips, his breath hot and ragged. "Me too." He shifted his angle slightly, the tip of him brushing against your g-spot with each thrust, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. Your eyes rolled back in your head, your mouth forming a silent scream as the tension inside you grew tauter and tauter.

"Hoonie, I'm close," you panted, the words barely escaping your throat as you felt your orgasm build. His eyes darkened, his pupils dilating with desire as he watched you unravel beneath him. "Fuck me harder, please," you begged, your voice a desperate whine. He complied, his movements becoming more forceful, each stroke hitting deeper, harder, more insistent.

You could see the effort in his face as he held himself back, his jaw clenched and his eyes squeezed shut, his teeth gritted with the effort of not letting go just yet. His body was a study in tension, his muscles flexing with each powerful thrust. The sound of your skin slapping against his filled the air, punctuated by your cries and gasps of pleasure.

Your eyes met, and in that moment, you knew you were both teetering on the edge. The room around you seemed to shrink, the world outside the door forgotten. All that mattered was the heat of his body, the feel of him inside you, the sound of your mingled moans. His thumb found your clit again, and he began to rub it in firm, swift circles that had your body tightening like a bowstring. You felt the coil of pleasure deep in your core, winding tighter and tighter with every pass of his thumb.

Sunghoon's eyes never left yours as he watched the ecstasy build on your face. "Come for me," he whispered, his voice a dark promise. "I want to feel you come all over me." His words sent a bolt of desire through you, and you felt yourself let go, the dam breaking as your orgasm washed over you. You squirted while moaning loudly, the sound echoing in the quiet room as your body bucked and writhed beneath his. He groaned, the vibration of his voice against your skin sending a fresh wave of pleasure through you.

His thumb continued to work your clit, the sensation overwhelming as your pussy clenched around his cock. He watched as your juices coated him, the sight making him growl with lust. "Fuck, you're so wet for me," he murmured, his voice strained as he fought to maintain his own control. But it was a battle he was quickly losing, his own need to climax becoming too intense to ignore.

With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, the head of his cock rubbing against your g-spot. You screamed out his name as you felt yourself come again, your body shaking with the force of your release. He followed you over the edge, his own climax tearing through him like a tempest. He groaned, his cock pulsing deep within you as he filled you with his warm seed. The feeling of him coming inside you was indescribable, a deep, primal connection that had you clinging to him as if he was your lifeline.

As the storm of pleasure began to subside, your bodies slowly calmed down, your breathing evening out into gentle pants. Sunghoon’s weight on top of you was a comforting presence, a reminder of the intimate bond you’d just shared. He kissed you tenderly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of regret. But all he saw was the same all-consuming passion that had brought you to this moment.

With a soft whisper, you spoke the words that had been hovering just beneath the surface of your consciousness. “I love you, Sunghoon,” you breathed into the quiet space between your intertwined bodies. The words hung in the air, a declaration of feelings that had been growing stronger with each stolen glance, each secret touch. His eyes widened, a smile spreading across his face as he pulled back slightly to look at you.

Sunghoon’s expression was one of shock and wonder, his gaze searching yours as if looking for some sign that you were joking or teasing. But your eyes were earnest, filled with a love that had grown from the fiery passion of your bodies colliding. “You do?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion. You nodded, your cheeks flushing as you felt your heart swell with the weight of your confession.

He leaned down to kiss you softly, his hand cradling the side of your face. The love in his eyes was a mirror of what you felt, and as your lips met, it was as if you were saying those three words all over again. The kiss grew deeper, a silent promise of forever wrapped in the tender embrace of your mouths. His cock, still hard and pulsing inside you, was a testament to his own love and need for you.

"I love you too," Sunghoon finally said, his voice barely more than a whisper. The words seemed to resonate through the air, echoing in the quiet room like a sacred vow. His eyes searched yours, and you could see the truth of his love shining there, raw and unfiltered. He kissed you again, his tongue tracing the outline of your lips before delving in to tangle with yours. His love was like a warm embrace that seeped into your very soul, filling every corner of your being.

And in that moment, in that crowded house, under dim lights and loud music, it was just you and him—

Locking eyes, losing control, and letting it loose.

permanent taglist: @ijustwannareadstuff20 @hoonielvv @rissierjrie

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patricia-taxxon · 3 months ago

Text

I want to set the record straight regarding a certain OST for a short film that should be coming out later this year, because one of its directors is making false and hurtful claims about me and my business ethic. After he made a prominent appearance on a drama stream about me & wrote a section of my callout doc, I told him that I wasn't interested in dragging him publicly, but that has felt more impossible as time goes on and I realize the extent of his misrepresentation. I had a vision of this film being able to release quietly in spite of everything, but I don't think that can happen, and I fully expect him to try and hurt my chances at further work.

In 2023, between techdogs 4 and 5, I worked on music for a then good friend's student film. It is by far the most technically difficult job I've ever had, and I did it for free. Now, before you get mad, this is partially (mostly) my fault. I never negotiated a price beforehand, and when I found out partway through that I was working for free, I let it slide for fear of being disruptive. If I was asked to quote a price today, it would have been approximately 900 USD. The work was a hellish and grueling experience, technical in ways I'd never been prepared for, and I sorely regret not putting my foot down, because I was hollowed out by the end of it.

A big portion of his callout against me is concerned with, bafflingly, my decision not to contribute my own money to the film, which at that point would have been a negative paycheck. I didn't pay the thirty dollars that I would've had to pitch in for the film to be screened, and I considered that a fine payment for the nine hundred dollars of work they got from me. He goes on to write that I'm rich anyways, I pay hundreds of dollars on album art (business expenses that I know I'll make back when the music is released) and "furry porn," because apparently if I am occasionally willing to drop a pretty penny on a pleasure purchase then I should simply be compelled to pay them randomly for things I hold no stake in and that I signed no contract for. He also mentions that I paid them later for the DCP file at another screening, of course by that point I had gotten the vibe that they were wanting for me to drop money on their project, so I did, giving the post-hoc justification that "i guess in this case I also care about the film sounding good." He writes "well I guess that was something she deemed worthy" without realizing the implication would then be that he did not see my own work as worthy.

Let me make this clear, this is like if a voice actor worked on my video game for free as a favor with no expectations of royalties, and then I asked them to help me pay to get the game on steam. This is presented along reheated second, third, fourthhand accounts of sexual misconduct.

And before we move on, to the claim that one album artist had to wait for years before receiving payment, this is true. I did forget to pay one artist, and only found out after their assistant contacted me years later, where I then paid six times the asking price as a late fee. I was commissioning over ten album arts every year, and as of now, this is the only time I have made this mistake.

It is impossible for me to refute his claims about the personal time we spent together in Omaha, as it would just be my word against his. I will just say that he should know the omitted reasons that I have grown to feel I was disposed, discarded, and taken for granted by him, and how he has nothing to do with why I hold those memories at that film festival so highly. He also does the classic thing where he positions allowing me to pick the movie in the evening as this favor he did, making me unknowingly rack up debt for a bargain I never consented to.

During all this, he has expressed an existential fear of being harassed for going public about me, and for this reason I want to say that I still hope that this film can be released without a fuss, but his continued participation in a harassment campaign against me has done far more to tarnish his reputation than I ever could. If you really cared about your image, pressure Crim to re-record that drama stream without your embarrassing petty grievances in it & delete your testimony from the callout doc. Thanks.

#bookmark2 #cilantromixture

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desperate-gay · 7 days ago

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Katie McCabe, “You expect me to act sane when you show up to team bonding looking like that?” anywhere

In My Back Pocket

Katie McCabe x fem!reader

a/n: small but i wanted to give you guys something!

“Woah there, tiger. I feel like you’re flashing me with those.” Beth jokes, pointing down at your shorts.

You throw your head back with an embarrassed groan. “I know! But my washer broke, and I didn’t have time to get to the laundromat. These were the only weather-appropriate ones I had!”

“‘Appropriate’ is a strong word,” Beth teases, earning a glare from you across the room as you set down the snacks you brought.

The team had finally decided it was time for another bonding night, and everyone agreed Beth and Steph should host—especially since Beth has one of the nicest places around. You’re one of the last to arrive, thanks to your laundry mishap, which you’d hoped no one would notice. That wish didn’t last long.

Now, while everyone settles into the living room, laughing and debating which film to put on, you’re setting up the snack station in the kitchen alone.

You’re too lost in your own world to hear the approaching footsteps. So when a pair of hands suddenly grip your waist, you jump and quickly turn—only to see Katie.

“Oh my god, you scared me.” You whisper, swatting her shoulder gently.

Katie just hums, eyes locked on the hem of your shorts, clearly admiring the curve of your thighs and the swell of your ass. Her hands trail from your hips to behind you, slipping into the back pockets of your jean shorts and giving a soft squeeze.

“Katie.” You scold in a low voice, glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one’s watching.

No one on the team knows about whatever it is that’s going on between you and Katie. You’re not sure if it’s just fooling around or something more exclusive—it’s too soon to tell, and honestly, you’re not pressed about it. You both know you’re not sleeping with anyone else, so there’s at least some unspoken understanding.

It all started when Katie’s Irish charm turned its full attention on you. The flirting was relentless, the touches even more so. And it was impossible not to fall for that cheeky grin—so you did. It’s been four months since the first night you hooked up, and whatever this is, it’s working for now.

“Someone could see.” You hiss, grabbing her wrists and pulling her hands away from your shorts.

“You expect me to act sane when you show up to team bonding looking like that?” Katie smirks, leaning down to press teasing kisses to your neck.

You squirm slightly under her touch, biting back a smile. “I’m serious, Katie. This is risky.”

“And I’m serious when I say I couldn’t care less if someone sees. Maybe then Laia would stop flirting with you every chance she gets.”

You arch a brow, pulling back just enough to look at her face. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you.”

“It’ll look better than Beth’s couch will on your bare ass if you keep winding me up like this.” She mutters against your skin, lips brushing that sensitive spot just below your jaw.

Your breath catches for a second before you press your hands against her chest, gently but firmly pushing her back. “You’re insufferable.”

“Yet here you are.” Katie grins, finally stepping back with a cocky glint in her eye. “Can’t stay away.”

Before you can respond, a voice cuts through from the living room. “Oi, are the snacks coming sometime this century or what?”

It’s Beth. Of course it is. Biggest cockblock of the team.

You sigh and shoot Katie a warning glance. “Behave.”

“No promises.” She calls after you as you walk back toward the living room, hips swaying a little more than necessary—because if she’s going to play this game, you’re playing to win.

You catch Beth watching as you enter, eyebrows raised. “What, you miss me already?”

“Just making sure you didn’t get lost or kidnapped.”

Behind you, Katie strolls in with that same smug look plastered on her face. Beth’s eyes dart between the two of you, a flicker of suspicion flashing across her face. You’re quick to change the subject, grabbing a handful of popcorn and tossing it dramatically into your mouth.

“So, are we watching something with actual substance, or another one of Lia’s ‘emotional journey’ documentaries that’ll have us crying by the end?”

The room erupts in laughter, and just like that, the tension slips back beneath the surface. But you can still feel Katie’s gaze on you—hot, heavy, and full of promise.

And you know tonight’s going to be anything but simple.

#katie mccabe x reader #woso x reader #woso fic #woso imagine #katie mccabe #beth mead #lia walti #laia codina #steph catley #woso #lgbtq

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gilverrwrites · 11 months ago

Text

Meet Cutes Uglies Ft. Bruce, Dick, and Jason

GN!Reader, ≈500 words each

CWs: Mild/nonexplicit threats of violence, slut-shaming (but not really), swearing.

Bruce

The chances of bumping into a celebrity not once, twice, thrice, but four times in one day are low, but not impossible as you’re finding out.

It was kinda cool realising you’re stood behind him in line at the coffee shop, but not spectacularly cool or anything. Almost everyone you knew had a story about meeting Bruce, or another member of the Wayne family out in public so you weren’t overly excited. You just kept your head down, scrolling through your socials and wondering whether his drink was the iced cold brew, the fudge brownie hot chocolate, or the three pump vanilla no foam cappuccino. Your friend Jade was right, he is far ‘hunkier’ than the media gives him credit for, his piercing eyes really are that blue, and he smells good too, like bergamot and cedar.

It became somewhat more exciting when you'd headed to the library on your lunch break to return a book, only for him to already be there, chatting-up the librarians no less. Your friends were not going to believe this. He must sense you staring at him because he turns to look at you, when you make eye contact you smile, wondering if he might recognise you from the morning. He did not smile back.

Upon returning to work, the rest of your shift had been gruelling, job after job being piled onto your shoulders with minimal time to get them all done. You hadn’t even had the chance to tell your co-workers about your unlikely encounters with Gotham’s richest man. By the time you got off for the night, you were exhausted, the thought of having to cook dinner and wash the pots once you got home looming over you like a rain cloud until you decide to grab some take-out on your way home instead.

You’re barely out of the doors of Big Belly Burgers, a handful of fries hanging from your lips when you see him for the 3rd time. Bruce Wayne, on the sidewalk across the street, engrossed in what seemed to be a very intense telephone call. Weird.

You don’t have to wait long for the fourth encounter, it happens just a few blocks from your home. He’s much closer this time, a little too close for comfort maybe. You hadn’t seen it coming, one moment you’re rifling through your bag, looking for your keys, the next you’re suspended a few inches from the ground by a pair of strong hands fisted into the collar of your jacket. Instinctively you paw at him, one hand wrapping around his wrist, the other bunching up in the fabric of his sweater for faux support.

You think for a moment you’re being mugged, until the familiar smell of wood and citrus hits your senses. Bruce Wayne is pressing you against the cold, damp wall of an alleyway, handsome face marred by its stern expression.

“Who are you?” He demands. “And why are you following me?”

>[Continued]<

Dick

The only thing worse than the feel of the uneven, filth-trodden pavements of Blüdhaven against your bare feet, is the thought of putting the torturous pair of dress shoes you’d worn last night back on. Perhaps you should have asked your hookup for something to wear, but that would almost certainly guarantee your having to see them again in order to return it and you’d happily walk barefoot across Tartarus before you let that happen.

Careful to avoid stepping in anything less than savoury, you keep your eyes glued to the floor, so focused on the things below you, that you don’t notice the things in front of you. The person in front of you, until you plough right into their admittedly firm chest.

The person in question reeks of stale alcohol, his shiny hair is a mess, there’s a shadow forming on his striking jawline, and the half-undone shirt he’s wearing is clearly wrinkled and stained from the night before. A fellow walk-of-shamer.

You stare at each other for a long moment before you realise you had bumped into him, therefore you should be the one to speak first.

“Oh, uh, sorry.” You murmur, voice hoarse.

“No problem.” He replied, far too chipper for his current predicament. His eyes rake up and down your body, and you might be vexed by it if you had not just been doing the same to him. “Why aren’t you wearing your shoes.”

“They hurt my feet.” You shrug, taking a cautious sidestep around him as you speak. “Just want to get home, they were slowing me down.”

That should be the end of it, but the sound of his dress boots tapping against the sidewalk follows you down the street. You can’t be certain, but you were pretty sure he’d been walking in the opposite direction prior to your collision. You cast a glance over your shoulder, and sure enough, he’s just a few steps behind you, offering you a striking smile that almost makes the grey morning feel brighter.

“Proposal?” He asks, and you stop to listen. Possibly because you’re genuinely intrigued, probably because your brain isn’t awake enough to tell your heart that you shouldn’t talk to strangers. “If I can get you home without you having to use your feet, will you go out for breakfast with me?”

“You’re really asking me out during a walk of shame?” You snicker, impressed by his audacity.

“We don’t shame in 2024, I prefer to call it a stride of pride.” He informs you, and he has a point. “Besides, might be fate that we walked into each other this fine morning, gotta give it a chance, right?”

“Right.” You agree, but your raised brow and puckered lips might suggest some scepticism. He doesn’t seem put off however, still beaming that brilliant smile at you. “And how do you plan on getting me home?”

“Easy.” He shakes his head, conveying his confidence as he beckons you closer by curling two fingers towards himself. You follow his direction and before you can comprehend what’s going on he’s crouching before you, threading his body between your legs and lifting you on his back, piggy style.

“So, where do you live?”

Jason

The coffee shop is that perfect level of busy that's not overwhelming but isn't too quiet as to be unsettling. Your drink is the ideal temperature, and the evening sun is seeping through the windows at just the right angle to warm your skin and add a golden glow to the atmosphere. By all accounts, this should be the perfect, relaxing moment, except… this book sucks.

You’d thought after years of recommendations from friends, many critically acclaimed adaptions, and its general status as a must-read classic that it was high time you picked it up, but you were about two-thirds in and thoroughly not enjoying yourself.

“Excuse me.” A low voice draws you from the pages of the book. You hadn’t noticed the 6ft+ mountain of tattooed muscle casting a shadow over your table until you looked into his eyes. Oh wow. You don’t know why he’s approached you, but whatever it is; he can have it. “Are you reading Lady Liatris?”

“I am.” You confer, lazily tilting the cover to show him, despite your reading choice already being apparent.

“Nice to meet a fellow bibliophile out in the wild. What do you think of it so far?” He smiles at you, reaching out a hand, your heart sinks as his strong fingers wrap around your own for a handshake.

“Well….” Handsome, well-read, confident enough to approach you, and you were about to blow it with your brutal honesty. “I haven’t finished it yet, so I won’t commit, but so far I am not impressed.”

“What?” He actually flinched. “No way. Where are you up to?”

“I just finished the bit where Claude professed his love for Florance at the flower show, which was the drollest thing I’ve ever read, and it went on and on for far too many pages.” It was probably impolite for you to be venting so quickly to this stranger, but you just couldn’t help it, the words just kept coming. “Not to mention its total lack of realistic feminism, you can’t just unveil your fencing champion to secretly be a woman and call it a day, every other woman in this book is either a two-dimensional gossiping villain or a two-dimensional love interest for the male side characters.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” The mystery man shakes his head at you in disbelief as he situates himself in the chair across from your own. “First of all, it was a product of its time, and is widely considered to be one of the greatest pieces of feminist literature despite its origins, secondly, did you not read any of Evie’s subplot?”

The conversation continues that way, back and forth. He emphasises his points with big sweeping, passionate movements of his arms. He nods his head and purses his lips when you make arguably good points and grits his teeth when he disagrees with you. Neither of you notice when the sun goes down, or your drinks going cold until the barista informs you both that they’ll be closing in a few minutes.

Shit. You’d been debating classic-lit with this guy for at least 2 hours, and you didn’t even know his name. The sentiment appears to be shared because he offers you a comically confused frown as he puts his jacket back on and offers you a hand standing from your seat.

You exit the café into the cool night air together. You’re not sure if you should ask his name and invite him over, or say goodbye, fortunately, he removes the need to decide by handing you a napkin with his name and number jotted onto it in black marker. Jason.

“Call me when you’ve finished the book.” He instructs, and then he gone.

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #batman #batman x reader #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #nightwing #nightwing x reader #jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood #red hood x reader #/reader #meet ugly #gilverrwrites #1K

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ladies-of-fortune · 5 months ago

Text

Control your body language, control the world

Why is it so important?

Body language is everything. It’s the silent superpower that influences your success in every area of life. If you can't connect with people, progress becomes impossible. Whether it’s a first date, a job interview, or making friends, your body language does the heavy lifting. It’s not always what you know but who you know. Even if you have a one in a million idea, if no one likes you, it will stay stuck at zero.

We all unconsciously give off subtle signals that reveal our true thoughts and feelings. A mere twitch of someone’s face is all it takes to express displeasure. Mastering your own signals puts you in control of how others perceive you.

The resting bitch face conundrum

If your neutral expression looks angry, sad, or afraid, you have two options:

Adjust your behaviour to compensate - Put your energy into making sure your first impression negates the vibes your resting face gives off. Once you're on more comfortable terms, you can relax and people will know that expression is just your face.

Surgery - This is an option but it's a risky one. If you go down this route, I recommend getting a procedure to fix your mouth into a neutral position rather than a permanent smile. There's a chance you'll come out looking like the joker, and your range of emotions will be restricted.

Fake smiles are worse than not smiling

Please don't fake smile, it doesn't fool anyone. I've seen a fake smile directed at me that gave the distinct impression of an ape preparing to attack, and it's haunted me ever since. A genuine smile reaches your eyes and lights up your voice. It's an infectious, unconscious energy. If you can't muster a real smile, it's better to remain neutral and true to your emotions than have others detect a falsehood from you.

Be open with your body language

Don't mute your expressions and gestures. For some this may have arisen as a defence mechanism, but in adulthood it can make you appear unapproachable. Unlearning this takes time, but its worth it. Once you feel safe to express your true feelings, your authenticity will shine. Being yourself, regardless of others’ expectations, commands respect and attracts people who genuinely like you for you.

(Of course, being authentic doesn’t mean being a public menace. There’s a line.)

Win people over with your body language

Lean in slightly during conversations to show interest.

Nod or smile occasionally while the other person talks to encourage them to keep speaking.

Use your hands when you speak to display enthusiasm.

Don’t hide your hands—it makes people subconsciously think you’re up to something shady.

Maintain good eye contact. Too little, and you seem disinterested; too much, and you risk coming off as intense. Strike a balance by aiming for natural, consistent eye contact about 70% of the time, and break away occasionally to keep it casual.

Respect personal space. Standing too close can make people uncomfortable, while standing too far might seem aloof. Aim for about an arm’s length of distance and adjust based on the other person’s comfort level.

Learn to read others

Once you master your own body language, you can start picking up on what others are saying without words. Spot their tells, mirror their movements and like magic, you’ll become “one of them.” Without quite knowing why, people will feel comfortable around you. This makes any requests or difficult conversations you'll have with them in the future much easier.

Context is key

Body language isn’t one-size-fits-all. What works in a casual setting may not translate in a formal one. Leaning back in a chair might show relaxation with friends but could come across as disengaged in a job interview. Similarly, an enthusiastic wave is great for greeting friends but may seem unfocused in a serious business meeting.

Tailor your approach to the environment and the people you’re interacting with. A little adaptability goes a long way in ensuring your body language sends the message you want it to send.

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peachglazewrites · 3 months ago

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hear me out. user using safe word while doing it with abby?? like what abby's reaction would be??

one shot maybe?? smth like that

𝚜𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚜

𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: abby/f!reader 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: tlou typical violence, smut (18+ mdni), use of words like cunt/tits, use of safeword, panic attacks 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜: established relationship, angst, fluff, use of pet names (honey, baby, pretty girl) 𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘: no use of y/n or reader descriptions, in canon world 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 4.6k

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: After a rough patrol, you come home to your girlfriend to try and take your mind off things. Unfortunately things don't go to plan.

a/n: thank you so much for your request!! I spent a lot of time thinking about how I wanted to go about this, and found that this was the most comfortable for me personally to write, as well as fit how I think about Abby!

I hope you enjoy ♡︎

̗̀➛ master list ̗̀➛ request your own here

Screeching. Clicking. Hurried footsteps on asphalt. Gunfire.

Your heart is beating a mile a minute, adrenaline thrumming through your system. Your rifle feels heavy in your hands, the weight of it slowing you down.

Don’t look. Don’t fucking look.

The croaking snarl sounds so impossibly close, practically right in your ear.

Shit. Just keep running. Oh god just keep—

A rock, a piece of rubble, your own foot, you don’t know what it is, but you trip on something. Your legs give out under you, rifle tumbling from your grip and clattering against the asphalt as your hands fly out to catch you. The fabric of your cargos rip as you skid, your cheek grazing and cutting on the jagged rocks beneath you.

That guttural clicking doesn’t stop, even when you do. It gets closer and closer, and you scramble on your hands and knees, reaching for your gun. Your fingers barely graze the butt of it, just one more push and you’ll have it.

But you can’t move, not any further. Not when the clicker chasing you has fallen on top of you, pinning you to the ground.

A cry rips from your throat, ragged and gasping and please somebody help—

Multiple gunshots rip through the air, so close it feels like your eardrums might explode. The weight on your back gets heavier as the clicker slumps forwards, head overgrown and expanded with fungus knocking against the back of your own skull. The final, gasping croaks sound right in your ear, hot rancid breath puffing against your cheek.

Fuck, that was so close. Too close.

You want to go home.

⸙

Medical clears you within the hour, one of the medics cleaning up the dirt and grime from your cuts and grazes. You get given a change of clothes and some pain meds to take home, and you end up throwing out your old clothes that are ripped and caked in blood the second you have the chance.

This day has felt so impossibly long. Your body aches, your cheek stings, and your head is pounding. The walk back to your apartment feels too long, the stairs too tall. You just want to be home, sit down, see--

Abby smiles at you as you walk in, looking up when she hears the latch catch on the door. It’s a small thing, soft and affectionate, the way she always greets you. “Honey, hey.”

You feel the ache leave your bones at the sight of her, hair loosely tied back, faded book in her hands. A smile of your own works its way onto your face, unable to hold it back when you’re around her.

“Hey, baby.”

She rises from the sofa, walking over to meet you at the door where you’re kicking off your muddy boots. She holds her arms out for you, hands instinctively finding your hips to pull you in.

That smile of hers falters when you turn to face her, a calloused hand coming up to gently grasp your chin. She tilts your head to the side, thumb brushing just under the graze on your cheek.

“What happened here?”

Bringing a hand up to cover her own, you pull it from your chin. “Nothing.” You bring her knuckles up to your lips, pressing a light kiss to the skin. “Fell out of the truck when we pulled in.”

Flashes of the chase, your fall, the noise of the clicker dying on top of you make you pause, breathing out a trembling breath against Abby’s knuckles. You shouldn’t lie; you know out of anyone that Abby would understand what it’s like to be out there. But you don’t want her to worry, to stress about you more than she likes to.

You look back up at her, pushing the memories of the patrol back.

The corner of Abby’s lips ticks up, just for a second, but you can see the way she’s biting the inside of her cheek. You roll your eyes. “Go ahead.”

Her lips split in a teasing grin, the hand on your hip sliding to the small of your back to pull you closer to her chest. “I didn’t even say anything.”

“You didn’t have to. I know that look.”

She chuckles, a low sound that sends a wave of goosebumps down your arms. “Can’t I find your lack of coordination even a little bit funny?”

“Nope. That’s… spousal abuse, or something.” Despite your grumbling, you let her guide your arms to wrap around her shoulders, linking behind her neck.

Abby’s eyebrows raise, eyes crinkling as she smirks at you. “Spousal, huh?”

“Shut up,” you huff, pointedly looking away. She laughs, thumbs swiping soothing arches across your back as she holds you close.

“Seriously though, you’re okay?”

You look back to her, watching her eyes track the graze on your cheek, a few scabs but mostly just rough skin. You nod, leaning in to press a reassuring kiss to her pouty lips.

“I’m okay. Just a shit end to an already shitty patrol,” you sigh, bumping your forehead against hers, eyes closing. “I want to just sit down and relax tonight, get my mind off it.”

Abby hums, pressing another soft kiss to your lips before straying to the side, gently kissing over your bruised cheek. She moves lower, warm breath fanning across your neck as she noses at and kisses the sensitive skin of your throat. You tip your head to the side, threading a hand in her hair as you pull her closer. It feels nice. Exactly what you need.

The two of you stand there, bodies gently swaying side to side as Abby kisses across every inch of skin she can see. The pounding in your head fades away, replaces by a pleasant buzz that has you clinging onto her tighter, breathing heavier.

She kisses back up to your lips, capturing yours once more before pulling away, smiling at you. “Do you want a drink?”

“A drink would be so good, right now.”

You pull her in for one last kiss before you untangle from each other, Abby breaking off to rummage in the kitchen for two glasses and a bottle of… something. You pad across the carpet and down the steps, sinking down on the sofa where Abby was sitting. The spot is still warm from where she was all curled up, book laying face down on the armrest, Frankenstein.

“Here,” Abby offers, leaning over the back of the sofa to hand you a glass. You lean up, lips pursed as you take it, smiling when Abby leans down to kiss you sweetly.

“Thanks, Abs.”

You take a sip of the amber liquid in the glass, hissing through your teeth as it burns down your throat. You hold the glass above your head when Abby comes round the side of the sofa, dropping herself onto the cushion next to you, jostling you. The liquor in her own glass threatens to splash up the side from the movement.

“Careful, babe,” you laugh, watching as she brings the vessel to her lips. She takes a much longer sip than you, and you find yourself getting warm as she licks the remnants from her lips.

Abby slings one of her arms along the top of the sofa, and you take it as an invitation to snuggle into her side, nursing your glass in your lap. Her hand comes down to rest lightly on your shoulder, thumb sweeping and massaging the tense muscles under her fingers.

A shaky sigh leaves your lips at the feeling, and you tilt you head to rest against her chest to give her more access. “Feels nice.”

Abby hums, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “You’re real tense. Patrol that bad?”

You nuzzle further into her chest, melting under her hands. “Had to take down some infected out by the highway,” you murmur, blinking away the image of your gun just barely out of your reach. “Nothing crazy, but more eventful than usual.”

“M’sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You press a kiss to her chest. “Just glad to be home.”

You both fall into a comfortable silence; Abby taking occasional sips from her glass as she massages along your shoulders, while yours lay forgotten in your lap. You could fall asleep here, listening to the thumpthump thumpthump of her heart beneath your ear, feeling so warm and comforted and taken care of.

“You know,” Abby starts, voice low. Her heartrate picks up a bit as she swallows, running a finger along the rim of her glass. “I can think of a more effective way of getting rid of all that tension.”

Something hot simmers low in your gut as you blink your eyes open, shifting your head to look up at Abby. She’s looking away, eyes focused on her nearly empty glass.

“You propositioning me, Anderson?”

A smile curls her lips, and her beautiful blue eyes flick down to yours. It feels like the air has been punched out of your lungs as you look at her, freckled face so lovely and close to your own.

“And if I was?” She tilts her head down, the tip of her strong nose brushing against your own.

Your tongue darts out, wetting your lips as your gaze drifts down to hers, full and begging to be kissed. “Then I’d be asking why you aren’t kissing me already”

She surges forwards, the hand massaging your shoulders sliding up to cup the side of your face, pulling you to meet her in the middle. You can’t help the small moan that leaves you as she licks into your mouth, already feeling like putty under her hands from the massage and her soft lips.

You shift in your seat, pressing yourself impossibly closer as the kiss deepens, sharp huffs of breath leaving your noses as you get carried away.

You forget about the glass in your hand, still mostly full of liquor as you bring a hand up, intending to wrap it around her neck to tug her down atop of you. Instead, the alcohol sloshes up the side of the glass and spills in your lap, the cold liquid seeping into your pants.

“Shit—” you hiss, pulling away from Abby. You frown at the dark stain in your lap, the stinging smell assaulting your nose as it soaks through the fabric and wets your thigh.

Abby snorts, looking down and laughing at the wet patch. “Damn, didn’t know I affected you like th— ow!”

“Shut up,” you huff, smacking her arm. “This feels so gross.”

You reluctantly pull yourself from Abby’s arms, holding your glass out in front of you as you rise. “Pass.” You nod to her own glass, practically empty, taking it from her as she holds it out to you.

You place the glasses on the coffee table a couple of feet away, wiping your wet hand on your already wet cargos. Yuck. You’ll have to take them off.

A smirk works its way onto your face, a teasing idea wriggling at the back of your brain. You turn back to face Abby but make no move to walk back to over.

She’s made herself comfortable since you moved, arms hooked over the back of the sofa, thighs spread wide, taking up space. The sofa isn’t huge but can comfortably fit the two of you. With her spread out like that, though, there’s really only going to be one spot for you to sit; and the smirk on her face shows that she knows that.

She’s watching you intently from her spot, blue eyes raking over the lines of your body. She shifts subtly in place, hips twitching.

Neither of you say anything, sitting in charged silence as your hands drift to the hem of your shirt, fiddling with the material. Abby notices and locks right in, watches the way you thumb at the fabric, how you bunch it in your fists. Even as you pull up, dragging the fabric over your head where you can’t see her, you can feel her eyes on you. Never straying.

You drop your shirt onto the floor next to you, discarding it to reach for your hips, fiddling with the button of your damp cargos.

Abby is positively transfixed, shifting in her seat as she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. Her eyes are boring holes into your hips, watching with bated breath as you pop the button and slowly slide the zipper down your fly. Her hands grip the back of the couch, the veins in her biceps pulsing, chest heaving with deep breaths as you shimmy the fabric down your thighs, stepping out of them when they drop around your ankles.

“Fuck,” she whispers, hooded eyes dragging up your bare legs and across your torso, pausing for a few moments on your chest. She finally meets your gaze once more, the heat behind her eyes making you throb.

“If you don’t get over here…”

You laugh softly, biting your lip as you pad your way back to her. She unhooks her arms from the back of the couch, reaching out for you the moment you’re close enough to drag you onto her wide lap.

Your arms wrap around her neck as you descend on her, lips locking, her large hands roaming. They can’t stay still, rubbing up your thighs, kneading the fat along your hips, dragging up to palm and tease at your tits. She’s devouring you whole, and you can’t do anything but thank her for it.

She pulls from your lips with a groan, placing hot, wet kisses down your jaw and throat.

“Abby—” you moan, tilting your head back to stare at the ceiling, chest heaving with your heavy breaths.

You feel her smirk against your skin, nipping teasingly as her large hands drift down, gripping your hips to roll them down against her own.

“Oh fuck,” she grunts, mouthing hotly at the swell of your chest as you grind against each other.

You need to feel her-- get your hands on her. You ball and scrunch at the back of her shirt until you can reach the hem, pulling desperately to tug it off. Abby pulls away from you for only a moment, just long enough to rip her shirt over her head and throw it behind the sofa. She’s back on you in an instant, the skin of her chest pressing against your own.

You can’t help but sigh at the feeling of her bare back under your fingers, gripping and digging your nails into the skin littered with dozens of tiny scars. Her muscles roll and shift under your hands, and you don’t think you’ll ever tire of the feeling.

“Baby—please,” you begin to whine, the slick slide of your wet underwear against your cunt as you thrust against her making you want more.

“Okay, pretty girl,” Abby shushes, kissing back up your chest and throat. One of the hands on your hips slides down, across the bare skin of your thigh, coming to settle between you to cup your damp cunt. “I’ll take care of you.”

A gasp tears through your throat, ragged breaths panting out from between your swollen lips as she rubs teasingly slow through your underwear. She has you squirming in place, nails biting the skin of her shoulders as you try oh so desperately to grind yourself down on her thick digits.

Abby just chuckles, a low teasing sound that makes you even wetter as she keeps her tortuous pace, capturing your lips to quiet your whining moans.

When it grows too much, when not even her perfect lips can keep your pleas and whines in, Abby slowly begins to sit up, using her large hands to manoeuvre you how she wants.

“Doing so good, honey,” she murmurs, rearranging you on her lap and guiding you to lay face down on the sofa, shifting so that she’s kneeling behind you.

A flutter of nerves unsettles your stomach as you rest your cheek to the cushions, the blossoming bruise on your cheek scratching along the worn fabric. You swallow them back and blink your eyes shut, a moan tumbling from your lips as Abby palms at your ass, hooking her fingers in the waistband of your underwear.

“This okay?”

You nod, responding with another soft moan as she slowly peels the fabric from your cunt, the air cooling along the wetness sticking to your thighs as the fabric falls to your knees. You feel so exposed, hips angled up like this for Abby to see-- but you can’t ignore the way you clench around nothing at the thought.

Her fingers are warm, thick as they slide through the folds of your cunt, dragging slick wetness up to your swollen clit. You jolt as she brushes over it, gasping a choked breath when she begins to rub slow, teasing circles around it.

You begin to feel breathless, like you can’t pull enough air into your lungs, but you can’t find it within you to care when her fingers feel so fucking good, and you need her to fuck you right now—

It’s like she can read your mind. You feel her shift behind you as her circles tighten, holding your hip in place as you squirm and thrust against nothing. Teasing laughs reach your ears before she finally, finally slides her fingers down where you want them.

Abby is never aggressive with you. Her movements, even when rougher than some, never mean to hurt or harm. Not once have you ever been worried or scared or fearful of your safety in the arms of this woman.

But when she presses a hand to your shoulder, drapes her body over your back to pin you to the couch as she works you open, it raises alarm bells. Loud ones.

You start to panic.

Your breathing that was already sharp and quick picks up even more, tears welling up in your eyes and blurring your vision.

“A-Abby—” You try and call out, but it comes out too close to a breathless whine for her to notice anything’s wrong.

“Abby, s-stop— Abby, red! Red!”

Abby pulls away immediately, fingers leaving you as she curses, stumbling a bit for balance as she backs right off. You can’t hold yourself up anymore, collapsing fully on the sofa, legs trembling as you begin to cry.

“Honey, can you lift your hips up f’me? Real quick, I promise,” she murmurs, voice shaky as she waits for you to reply.

You barely muster up a nod, eyes staring out ahead of you and into the room, tears falling freely and dripping off your nose as you whimper. Your legs are still shaky as you raise your hips, just enough for Abby to delicately slide your underwear back up, covering you.

She slips off the sofa behind you, leaving to grab the blanket off the bed. It’s not the softest thing in the world but is big enough to wrap the both of you up in it, so she drags it over to the sofa where you’re still laying, shuddering and trying to breathe.

“Can I touch you, baby? Just to wrap this around you. You think you can sit up for me?” She’s oh so gentle, so patient as she waits for you to give the okay.

You can’t help the whimper that leaves your lips as she touches you, hands pressed against your bare skin as she slowly sits you up. The touch is replaced by the blanket soon after, wrapped around your entire body and tucked up under your chin. Only your face peeks through, and you’re sure you look ridiculous, but you can’t find it in you to care.

It feels warm. Safe. Like you can breathe.

Abby crouches in front of you, shirt still discarded somewhere behind the sofa, careful not to crowd you. “Do you need space, or touch?”

“Space,” you stutter out, tears clinging to your lashes as you try to shake the feeling of the clicker’s disgusting breath against your cheek.

Abby’s eyes widen, only slightly, but enough to betray the fear she’s feeling as she looks at you; watches the rattling breaths leave your swollen lips as you cry in front of her. Nothing like this has happened in all the time you’ve been together. The two of you are usually so in sync, know exactly what the other needs. The only time anything other than ‘green’ has been uttered by either of you was ages ago, when Abby had to call ‘yellow’ because she got incredibly overstimulated; but that was it. ‘Red’ is new, and way more terrifying than either of you thought it would be.

“Would you like me to get you anything?” Abby asks softly, voice thick but pushing through.

You go to shake your head, to decline, but your mouth feels so dry…

“Water, please.”

“Of course, honey.”

She’s up in a flash, rummaging around in the kitchen for a clean glass, grabbing the jug from the mini-fridge you keep tucked under the counter to pour you a nice, cold cup.

She’s back before you can spiral too far down into your thoughts, offering the frosted glass for you to take. Snaking your hands out from under the blankets, your fingers lightly brush hers as you take the water, pressing it to your lips. The glass is damp and sparkling with condensation, the water nice and cold on your tongue as you swallow down the entire thing.

Abby’s ready to take the empty glass from you when you’re done, placing it down gently on the coffee table with the others.

She doesn’t try and broach what just happened, but she does make a point of sticking nearby. She settles down on the floor next to you, back pressed to the couch by your feet, careful not to touch you. It’s a kind gesture, one that you appreciate in this moment as you try and calm yourself down, focused on getting that disgusting, grimey feeling to leave your skin.

You can’t tell how much time passes, it may have been a few minutes, or maybe an hour, but it’s long enough for you to wet your lips, to call out for her.

“Abby…”

She looks up, twisting her body to check you over. Her eyes are so wide, filled to the brim with love and concern. It’s rare they’re this unguarded, even around you.

“Yeah?”

“Can you— I want you up here. Please.”

She climbs onto the sofa without another word, chest still bare as she sits by your side. She hesitates for a second, unsure of what exactly you need, but you crawl into her arms and she doesn’t need to ask anymore-- bundling you up and securing you in her lap.

The blanket is still wrapped around you, and you tug on it enough so that you can press your cheek sticky with tears to her bare skin, desperate to hear her hear that sill beats beneath her skin.

Thumpthump thumpthump thumpthump.

“Are you okay?” She asks it so quietly that you barely catch it, muffled under the sound of her heartbeat.

“Kind of,” you offer weakly, too tired to lie.

“Did I— I didn’t mean to—”

You press a ghost of a kiss to the swell of her chest, over her heart. “It wasn’t you. Not really.”

She swallows, throat clicking as her hands run soothingly up and down your back through the blanket. “Then what…?”

“Patrol,” you start, blinking as you stare off to the side of the room, the place where Abby’s makeshift bookshelf sits, overflowing. “We ran into infected. There were… so many. All trapped in a parking garage, came rushing out when we rolled the door up. I was—” Your breath hitches, that familiar burning behind your eyes as tears blur your vision.

Abby pulls you in closer, pressing her lips to the top of your head.

“I-I was being chased by a clicker and I tripped, then it fell on top of me, and I was so scared, Abby. I thought I was going to die.”

Abby swears as her hands move along your body, calloused hand cupping your cheek with so much gentleness that it makes you want to cry for a different reason. She slowly picks your head up off her chest, thumb brushing softly under the scabs on your cheek. She’s frowning, lips downturned, and you decide then and there that you never want to see her look at you like this ever again.

“If I knew, I wouldn’t have tried to—”

“Hey, don’t do that,” you interrupt, shaking your head slightly. You sniffle, a couple of stray tears dripping from your lashes. “I didn’t tell you. I thought—I thought I could just forget it happened. It’s not your fault. You did nothing wrong, Abby.”

She’s still frowning, brows drawn together as she wipes away the tears that mar your skin, hot trails that quickly cool in the air. “I’m still sorry.” She leans in, pressing delicate kisses along your cheek, up to your forehead. “The idea of scaring you, it’s— I hate it. I’m so sorry, honey.”

A hand finds its way out of the blankets, coming up to cup her cheek, the two of you mirroring each other. Abby touches your foreheads together and you close your eyes, sitting and breathing the same air.

“I love you,” Abby whispers.

Leaning up, you press a soft kiss to her lips. “I love you too.”

“Did you want to move? Go to bed?” Abby asks, nosing gently at your cheek.

You shake your head, settling back so that you’re resting against her chest once more. “Want to stay here. Do you think… Can you read to me?”

“Yeah, of course. You want to choose something?” Her hands come back to splay against your back, smoothing out the wrinkles of the blanket.

“Could you read from your spot in Frankenstein? I just want to hear your voice, I don’t mind.”

Abby presses her lips to the top of your head. “Course, baby. Let’s shuffle a bit.”

She’s gentle with you as she moves you, shifting the two of you to lay back together on the sofa. You stay cuddled up to her chest, your legs settling between her own as she rests against the armrest, one arm slung across your waist and the other held above the two of you, Frankenstein in hand.

Abby clears her throat, wetting her lips before beginning to read aloud.

“From this day natural philosophy, and particularly chemistry, in the most comprehensive sense of the term, became nearly my sole occupation. I read with ardour those works, so full of genius and discrimination, which modern inquirers…”

Your eyes flutter closed as you lay against her chest, feeling the subtle vibrations of her low voice as she reads. It’s soothing, calming-- a reminder that Abby is here and with you.

You don’t know when you fall asleep, but when you wake up a few hours later you’re still on the sofa, Abby’s chest rising and falling with her sleeping breaths. A strong arm is slung over her eyes, the other still wrapped securely around you.

The blanket has shuffled off of you during your sleep, and you try as quietly and slowly as possible to haul it back up, draping it across the both of you. Abby stirs lightly, the arm covering her eyes coming down to wrap around you, almost as if she sensed you moving about and is trying to keep you from straying too far.

You snuggle back down atop of her, kissing her chest lightly before resting your cheek back against it—skin on skin.

Thumpthump thumpthump thumpthump.

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bodyswap005 · 4 months ago

Text

"Borrowed Bodies, Reunited Lives".

Dylan’s Perspective:

I always thought a cruise vacation would be perfect: the sun, the sea, and the chance to disconnect from everything. But when your only travel companions are your parents, who can barely spend a minute together without arguing, the idea loses its charm. So, when my parents announced we’d be spending the holidays sailing to Miami, I couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and frustration.

They are Ethan and Susan, the perfect representation of a marriage that has lost its way. They argue about everything, from which channel to watch on TV to how to park the car. They never agree, and being in the middle of their endless arguments is a place I’d rather not be. That’s why the idea of spending weeks locked on a ship with them seemed more like a punishment than a break.

If only I could bring Alex and Joshua, my best friends from the gym, things would be different. They’re like my older brothers, always with advice, jokes, and that camaraderie that only forms between those who share long training sessions and complaints about the same exercise machines. Alex is more reserved, but he has a sarcastic sense of humor that always makes me smile, while Joshua is the extrovert of the group, capable of lighting up any room with his energy.

Of course, bringing them along was an impossible dream. My parents would never allow it, and they certainly couldn’t afford it. But sometimes, even the most unlikely things have a strange way of coming true.

One afternoon, as I was walking back from the gym, I saw an elderly woman trying to lift a heavy bag off the sidewalk. I stopped to help her; I didn’t think much of it, it just seemed like the right thing to do. When the woman thanked me, she looked at me with eyes that seemed to pierce through me and said something strange:

—Make a wish, young man. A real one.

I didn’t think much of it. I thought it was some kind of game or joke, but in the end, I said the first thing that came to mind:

—I wish my friends could come with me on the cruise.

The old woman smiled, murmured something I didn’t understand, and walked away. I didn’t dwell on it, although that night I couldn’t help but think about her words.

The day of departure arrived, and as expected, nothing extraordinary happened. Alex and Joshua weren’t there. Everything was the same: my parents arguing, me wishing I wasn’t there. Until, suddenly, things started to get strange.

As the ship set sail, I noticed my parents weren’t just arguing, their voices sounded completely out of place. My dad let out a rude “What the hell am I doing here?”, while my mom muttered a “No way, dude!”. They both looked at me with a mix of confusion and bewilderment.

Then my phone rang. It was Alex. Or at least, that’s what the screen said. I answered, and what I heard on the other end froze me. It was my dad. Or rather, his voice, saying something completely absurd:

—Dylan, it’s me! I’m your dad.

And just like that, my cruise adventure, which already promised to be uncomfortable, took a turn I never could have imagined, even in my worst nightmares.

Ethan and Susan Perspective:

Ethan woke up startled in a place he didn’t recognize. The room was small, with dull-colored walls, barely lit by a beam of sunlight filtering through the curtains. He brought a hand to his face and felt something strange: his beard was gone.

When he looked down, the shock was even greater. This wasn’t his body. His torso was strong, defined, and his hands, large and youthful, weren’t the ones he remembered.

—What the hell is going on?!—he shouted, jumping up.

On the other side of the room, someone else moved. Susan, or at least what should have been Susan, slowly sat up from a single bed. But instead of her slender figure, it was the body of a muscular young man with messy hair and a bewildered expression.

—What happened to me?—Susan asked, touching her face with hands larger than she expected. Then she looked at the mirror in front of her, and a scream escaped her mouth—It can’t be!

Ethan staggered slightly as he approached, trying to control his movements. He looked at both their reflections and confirmed the impossible: he was in Joshua’s body, one of Dylan’s friends, and Susan was in Alex’s.

—This has to be a nightmare…—Ethan said, running a hand through his short hair.

—This isn’t real!—Susan screamed, touching her arms and chest, feeling the muscles now belonging to her. Her gaze was filled with horror—This can’t be real!

At that moment, Susan’s phone—or rather Alex’s, which was in the pocket of her pants—began to ring. They both looked at each other, uncertain. Ethan took the phone and answered.

—Hello?

On the other end of the line, Dylan answered immediately, his tone filled with panic:

—Dad… it’s me.

Ethan squinted.

—Dylan? What’s going on?

—Dad, mom…—Dylan stammered, trying to explain while listening to Alex (now in Ethan’s body) argue with someone in the background—I think… I think you switched bodies with Alex and Joshua.

Susan, who had been listening from across the room, quickly approached.

—What did you do, Dylan?—she asked with Alex’s deep voice, snatching the phone from Ethan—What did you do?!

—I… I didn’t know this was going to happen—Dylan defended himself, his voice full of guilt—I helped an old woman, and she told me she’d grant me a wish. I just asked for Alex and Joshua to come on the cruise with me.

Ethan huffed, snatching the phone back.

—An old woman?! What kind of joke is this?

—It’s not a joke, dad—Dylan replied—This is real, but… I don’t know how to fix it.

—Of course you don’t!—Susan growled from the back, crossing her arms—We’re stuck in the bodies of two guys we barely know!

—Please, just calm down. We need to think…—Dylan tried to say, but his voice sounded weak, even to himself.

—Calm down?—Susan screamed—We lost our cruise, our lives, everything!

Ethan sighed deeply, trying to remain calm, even though his hands were trembling.

—Listen, Dylan. For now, we’ll look for that old woman, if she even exists. You stay on the cruise and try to keep those two idiots under control.

Dylan swallowed hard.

—Got it.

Ethan hung up and placed the phone on the bed, his expression hardened.

—This can’t be permanent, right?—Susan asked quietly, though she knew no one had the answer.

Ethan didn’t respond right away. Instead, he looked at his new arms, so strong that it almost seemed like a joke.

—While we figure out how to reverse this… I think we should make the most of this vacation.

Susan glared at him.

—Make the most of it? Ethan, we’re in the bodies of strangers!

—I know, but we can’t just sit around feeling sorry for ourselves—he said, though a nervous smile crossed his face as he flexed his arms—I never had muscles like this…

Susan ran a hand over her face, frustrated.

—Maybe this is a sign—she murmured, more to herself than to him—A lesson for us.

Ethan raised an eyebrow.

—A lesson?

—To solve our problems… as a couple.

Ethan let out a snort but didn’t argue. Though they both knew that the only thing they could agree on was finding that old woman and returning to their lives as quickly as possible.

In the city, Ethan and Susan walked down a narrow alley, following the coordinates Dylan had provided over the phone. However, the place was empty, with no trace of the gypsy old woman who had set everything in motion.

—This can’t be, she doesn’t even exist!—Susan exclaimed, crossing her arms and shooting a reproachful glance at Ethan—This is your fault.

Ethan raised an eyebrow, clearly tired of his wife’s constant accusations.

—My fault? Please! Dylan was the one who made the wish, and we’re the ones stuck in this mess with his little friends.

Susan snorted, turning around to head back to the apartment they were now sharing.

Once they arrived, they both collapsed on the sofa. Susan sighed with frustration, while Ethan stood up to inspect the small living room.

—This is a disaster—Susan said, bringing her hands to her face—I just want my normal life back.

—I wouldn’t complain too much, you know?—Ethan responded with a smile, taking off his shirt in front of the apartment mirror. He admired his defined and sculpted muscles, something he hadn’t seen in years—Look at this! When was the last time I looked like this?

—For the love of God, Ethan! Put your shirt on. This is ridiculous—Susan scolded, though her gaze briefly drifted to her husband, now in Joshua’s body.

—Ridiculous?—Ethan chuckled as he flexed his arms in front of the mirror—This is like turning back time.

Fed up with his attitude, Susan jumped up and, in a burst of frustration, decided to check for herself how she looked now. She stood in front of the mirror and, with some curiosity, slid her hands down the muscular arms of Alex’s body.

—This… this is weird—Susan admitted quietly, staring at her reflection. Her new body was strong and bulky, something she never imagined experiencing—I’ve never felt like this in my life.

—Weird?—Ethan said, approaching her with a teasing smile—Don’t tell me you’re not enjoying it a little.

Susan rolled her eyes and stepped away from the mirror.

—I don’t care how I look now. What I want is to get my life back, not walk around showing off like you.

Ethan raised his hands in a peace gesture, although he still had a satisfied expression.

—Alright, alright. But, while we find the old woman, we could make the most of it… How about we go out for dinner?

—Dinner?—Susan repeated, raising an eyebrow.

—Yes, of course. But first, I think we should go to the gym. Isn’t that what Alex and Joshua would do? Besides, I’m sure these bodies need exercise to stay like this.

Reluctantly, Susan agreed. After all, there wasn’t much else to do.

At the gym, they faced the demanding routines of Alex and Joshua. Ethan, used to a much more sedentary lifestyle, tried to keep up with the weights, while Susan, clearly annoyed, followed the instructions she found on Alex’s phone.

—This is crazy—Susan murmured, wiping the sweat from her forehead as she watched Ethan drinking an energy shake—How do they do this every day?

—It’s a matter of habit—Ethan replied, smiling as he approached a treadmill.

Suddenly, a young man approached them. He was wearing tight athletic gear and had a relaxed attitude.

—Alex? Joshua?—Ethan asked with a smile, looking them up and down.

Sergio and Susan exchanged quick glances. They had no idea who he was, but decided to play along.

—Yes, it's us—Ethan replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

The young man nodded, as if he already knew them well.

—Great. Hey, I’m hosting a party tonight. You guys should come. It’ll be at my place, nothing formal, just friends.

—Party?—Susan repeated, surprised.

—Yeah, sure. It’ll be fun—the young man responded before giving them more details and walking away with a smile.

When the young man disappeared from sight, Ethan turned to Susan with enthusiasm.

—This is perfect.

—Perfect?—Susan said, crossing her arms—Are you suggesting we go?

—Of course. When was the last time we went to a party with young people? All we do is attend boring adult gatherings. This could be an opportunity to experience something new.

Susan looked at him incredulously, but deep down, something in his words sparked her curiosity.

—Suppose I agree… But no acting like an idiot, Ethan.

—Deal!—he replied with a triumphant smile.

Meanwhile, Susan couldn’t help but wonder if this experience might be more than just a bad nightmare… Maybe, even, an opportunity to rediscover something lost in their relationship.

The night came, and Ethan and Susan, more nervous than excited, tried to pick the best clothes they could find in Alex and Joshua’s wardrobes. Ethan chose some tight dark jeans and a white shirt that was a little too snug, while Susan, uncomfortable, put on a sleeveless shirt and shorts that left little to the imagination.

—This is ridiculous—Susan said, adjusting her clothes in front of the mirror—Do young people really dress like this?

—Relax—Ethan replied, straightening his shirt collar—We’re doing this to fit in, remember?

With little money in their pockets, they decided to stop for a coffee before heading to the party. Sitting at a small table by the window, the atmosphere was surprisingly calm. For the first time in years, they weren’t arguing.

—This is… strange—Susan commented, stirring her coffee.

—What’s strange?—Ethan asked, looking out the window.

—Us. Here, not fighting. As if… as if we were another couple.

Ethan smiled faintly.

—Maybe this change has something good after all.

Before Susan could respond, Ethan’s phone started ringing. It was Dylan.

—How’s everything going over there?—Ethan asked as Susan moved closer to listen.

—Fine... I think. Alex and Joshua are keeping it together, although it’s total chaos.—Dylan sighed on the other end of the line—Did you find the old woman?

—No—Susan responded with frustration—We followed the coordinates, but there was no sign of her.

—Well, at least you tried.

Ethan cleared his throat.

—By the way, we’re going to a party tonight.

—What?—Dylan exclaimed—What party? Whose?

—A guy from the gym invited us. We don’t know him, but he seemed insistent.—Ethan paused—Dylan, do you know who he is?

—No. Maybe he’s new in town or at the gym. Be careful.

They hung up shortly after, and Ethan and Susan finished their coffees before heading to the party.

The place was full of energy. Colorful lights blinked while music echoed in every corner. People were laughing, dancing, and chatting in small groups. Ethan and Susan looked at each other nervously before entering, trying to appear relaxed.

—Remember, act like we know them—Ethan whispered.

Inside, they recognized several people from the gym. Probably Alex and Joshua's friends. Susan tried to chat with a few people, but couldn’t fully connect, while Ethan helped himself to a drink at the table.

It was then that the guy who had invited them appeared. He was tall, with dark brown hair and a charismatic smile.

—Alex, Joshua, I’m glad you came—the young man said, shaking their hands—I’m Elijah, by the way.

—Nice to meet you, Elijah—Susan replied, trying to sound casual.

Elijah smiled in a peculiar way, as if he knew something more.

—So, how are you adjusting to... the new?—he asked with a tone that seemed both innocent and mocking.

Ethan felt something stir inside him. That phrase had been too specific.

—What do you mean?—Ethan asked, feigning disinterest.

Elijah shrugged, his smile barely visible.

—Nothing, just a way of saying. Enjoy the party.

As Elijah walked away, Ethan was left thinking. How could he know something? The idea that he might be connected to the old woman crossed his mind, but he quickly dismissed it. However, something didn’t add up.

He decided to find Susan to talk about it, but at that moment, someone else approached him.

—Hey, Alex, wanna grab a drink?—a young man asked, calling Susan, or rather, Alex’s body.

Susan, unsuspecting, accepted the invitation and walked away, leaving Ethan alone.

Ethan sat at one of the tables, reflecting on what had just happened. He looked around, observing the other guests, but couldn’t get Elijah’s words out of his mind.

—So, how are you adjusting to... the new?

Lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed when Susan came back. But what really snapped him out of his reverie was seeing her without a shirt, wearing a swimsuit she had found in the apartment.

—What the hell are you doing?—Sergio asked, alarmed.

Susan shrugged.

—Apparently, this is normal here. Besides, who cares? No one knows who we really are.

Ethan put a hand to his face, stifling a sigh. This night was going to be longer than he expected.

Susan, still animated by the festive atmosphere and clearly affected by the drinks, approached Ethan with a radiant smile.

—There’s a pool!—she said excitedly—I need a swim, and you do too.

—Susan, I think you've had enough to drink—Ethan responded cautiously, noticing the peculiar gleam in his wife’s eyes.

—Oh, come on! Don’t be boring.—Without waiting for a response, she grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the pool.

Ethan, surprised by the gesture, felt a strange warmth rise to his face. It was something so simple, but it had been so long since he felt that spontaneous connection with Susan. Was he blushing?

When they reached the pool, the atmosphere was completely different: laughter, softer music, and a group of young people enjoying the water under the colorful lights. Susan, without a second thought, jumped into the water, while Sergio stood at the edge, watching her.

—Ethan, come on!—she shouted, splashing him playfully.

He sighed, finally giving in, and stepped into the water. However, just a few minutes later, Susan moved away again, leaving him alone.

Ethan got out of the pool, drying himself off while looking for Susan in the crowd. That’s when he noticed Elijah, standing near a table, looking at him with a smile that seemed more calculated than friendly.

—Hey, Joshua…—Elijah said, walking toward him—Sorry for what I said earlier, about “adjusting to the new.”

—No problem—Ethan replied, though his tone made it clear he didn’t believe the apology—Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm looking for someone.

But Elijah placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

—Wait, let me explain why I said that.

With a mix of suspicion and curiosity, Ethan decided to follow him. Elijah led him to a room downstairs and closed the door behind them.

—So, what’s this about?—Ethan asked, crossing his arms.

Elijah didn’t answer right away. Instead, he got closer, his eyes locked on Ethan’s.

—You know, Joshua... there’s something about you tonight. Something different.

Before Ethan could react, Elijah surprised him by leaning in to kiss him. Elijah’s lips met Ethan’s, and for a moment, Etnan was frozen. He had never kissed a man, nor had he ever imagined being in this situation. Why wasn’t he pulling away?

Finally, he reacted and pulled back abruptly, his heart pounding.

—What the hell are you doing?—he said, breathless, as he stepped back toward the door.

Elijah showed no remorse, just a mysterious smile.

—Maybe… Joshua isn’t as different as you think.

Without responding, Ethan hurriedly left the room, determined to find Susan.

When he finally found her, what he saw left him stunned. Susan, in Alex’s body, was standing close to a young woman, talking in a way that was far too familiar. The girl was laughing while Susan touched her arm, as if she were flirting.

Ethan furrowed his brow as he watched them both head upstairs.

—Susan! —he called, rushing after them.

Susan stopped, turning to face him with an annoyed look.

—What now?

—What are you doing? —Ethan demanded, trying to stay calm—. This is not the time to pretend to be someone else.

—Oh, please, Ethan —Susan replied, crossing her arms—. We're stuck in this absurd situation, what does it matter?

—It matters because we need to take care of each other and stick together. The best thing is that we leave now.

Susan glared at him, shaking her head.

—Do you always have to ruin everything? For once in my life, I just want to have fun.

Before Ethan could respond, Susan turned around and left with the girl.

Frustrated and angry, Ethan decided he’d had enough. He returned to the changing room, grabbed his clothes, and left the party without looking back.

Back at the apartment, Ethan locked himself in the small room he was now occupying, throwing himself onto the bed with a sigh of exhaustion. He waited, phone in hand, for a call or message from Susan, but nothing came.

As he tried to calm himself, his mind drifted back to the kiss from Elijah.

Why didn’t I pull away sooner? he thought, bringing a hand to his lips. He’d never kissed a man before, but there was something about that moment… something that unsettled him.

—I’m not gay… —he murmured, as if trying to convince himself.

Still, he couldn’t ignore what he had felt. Was Joshua gay? The idea troubled him, but it also stirred a strange curiosity.

With conflicting thoughts and emotions, he closed his eyes, and eventually, exhaustion overtook him.

The sound of the alarm clock vibrated softly, and Ethan opened his eyes, hoping everything had returned to normal. But it hadn’t. He was still in Joshua’s body. He glanced at the clock: 11:15 a.m.

He got up sluggishly, running his hands over his face and walking toward the bathroom to do his morning routine. As he washed his hands, an unmistakable smell hit his nose: food. Who was cooking?

When he reached the kitchen, he found Susan, still in Alex’s body, preparing what looked like a balanced breakfast: eggs, avocado, oatmeal, and a protein shake.

—Good morning, “J-Machine”! —Susan said with a smile, using a nickname that seemed to belong to Alex for Joshua.

Ethan frowned at the use of the nickname but decided to ignore it.

—Good morning… —he replied as he sat down at the small kitchen table—. Do you feel alright after last night?

Susan shrugged.

—Yeah, nothing a shower and coffee can’t fix.

—Well, I wanted to talk about what happened at the party…

—About what? —Susan asked, not looking at him as she served a plate.

—About what you did —Ethan insisted—. You drank too much, flirted with a girl, and then left with her. What the hell were you thinking?

Susan briefly looked at him, then returned her attention to her phone, typing messages and smiling as though she wasn’t in the middle of a serious conversation.

—Yeah, yeah… I’m sorry. Do you want avocado or double oatmeal? —Susan said indifferently.

—Susan, listen to me! —Ethan exclaimed, tapping the table gently to get her attention.

Finally, she looked up, slightly irritated.

—What? What did I do wrong now?

—Everything! —Ethan replied with frustration—. You’ve been acting like this is all a game. Not just last night, but always. Even when we were in our original bodies.

Susan frowned, setting her phone aside.

—What do you mean?

—I mean you and I have been distant for years —Ethan confessed, his tone more serious—. But last night, while I was trying to take care of you in that body, I felt something… something I haven’t felt in years. That connection we had when we were younger.

Susan looked at him in disbelief, then let out a sarcastic laugh.

—Connection? Or are you confusing things? Are you gay now?

—What? —Ethan asked, surprised by the question.

—Yeah, because all of this sounds weird. You’re telling me you felt “something” for me while I’m in Alex’s body. What’s going on, Ethan? Are you falling in love with your friend son?

Ethan opened his mouth to respond, but the words didn’t come immediately.

—It’s not that… —he murmured finally, averting his gaze—. It’s more complicated than that.

—More complicated? —Susan repeated, raising an eyebrow—. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I hope this isn’t about the kiss with Elijah or something like that.

Ethan suddenly stood up, pushing the chair aside.

—You know what? Forget it. I don’t know why I try to talk to you. You always avoid everything, even now that we’re not ourselves.

—Where are you going? —Susan shouted, raising her voice.

—Anywhere where I don’t have to deal with you —Ethan responded, leaving the kitchen and leaving Susan with an expression of confusion and anger.

As he walked toward his room, his thoughts swirled in his mind. Was Susan right? Was he confusing his emotions? Between Elijah’s kiss, Joshua’s body, and his accumulated frustration, nothing seemed to make sense.

Days passed in which Ethan and Susan barely spoke to each other. The resentment from breakfast still lingered, and each one had opted to focus on their own routines. Susan, in Alex's young and athletic body, had become the life of the gym; always surrounded by people, she generated glances and conversations wherever she went. Meanwhile, Ethan preferred to isolate himself in the apartment, playing video games and reflecting on what had happened at that party.

The image of Elijah continued to haunt his mind, especially the kiss they shared. Ethan felt confused, as if that experience had awakened something in him, something he still couldn't fully understand.

On the fifth day, finally, something changed. Tired of the awkward silence, Susan approached Ethan in the living room while he was playing.

—Can we talk? —she asked, in a softer tone than usual.

Ethan paused the game and looked at her, hesitating for a moment.

—I suppose so.

Susan sat next to him, settling into the couch.

—I want to apologize. Not just for what happened at the party, but… for everything. For how things have been between us, even before this strange exchange.

Ethan watched her, surprised by her sincerity.

—I’ve messed up too. I’ve been too wrapped up in myself… and, well, you saw what happened that night. I shouldn’t have scolded you like that.

—No, you were right —Susan admitted—. I’ve always been the type to avoid things instead of facing them. But after all this… I think it’s time to change, for Dylan. Although now, technically, he’s our best friend.

They both chuckled lightly, easing some of the tension.

—For Dylan —Ethan said, raising his fist.

—For Dylan —Susan repeated, bumping her fist against Ethan's.

For a moment, silence settled again, but this time it wasn’t uncomfortable. There was something in the air, a connection they both felt but didn’t know how to express. Susan looked at him with a mix of curiosity and nervousness.

—Can I ask you something? —she said.

—Sure.

—What happened with Elijah?

Ethan sighed and looked away.

—It was strange. I don’t know why he did it… but when he kissed me, I didn’t hate it.

Susan looked at him intently, processing his words.

—You didn’t hate it?

—No. In fact, I think… I liked it.

The atmosphere grew more intimate. Susan placed her hand on Ethan's, and he looked directly at her for the first time in days.

—Maybe all of this is a sign —Susan whispered—. A way to show us that we don’t have to cling to who we were before.

Ethan nodded, and before he could respond, Susan leaned in toward him. It was a soft kiss, filled with a mix of nostalgia, curiosity, and something new that neither of them had ever felt before.

What started as a kiss soon turned into something more. Their bodies, although not their original ones, seemed to fit in a way they had never imagined. They surrendered to the moment, leaving behind the doubts and conflicts that had separated them for so long.

Days later...

Life went on. They hadn’t returned to their original bodies, but it no longer seemed to matter. Ethan and Susan had decided to stop searching for the old woman and, instead, embrace this new opportunity to get to know each other from a completely different perspective.

Dylan, still on the cruise, was completely unaware of what had happened between them, but he would surely find out when he returned. In the meantime, Susan and Ethan found a new routine, learning to live with their new realities and with a relationship that, although unexpected, had given them a new perspective on what it meant to be partners, friends, and companions in this surreal experience that they now called life.

The end

#body swap #age regression #straight to gay #gay to straight #female to male #fantasy #gay #personality change #mental change #reality change #male tf #male body swap #male to female

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soulofapatrick · 3 months ago

Text

Don’t Tempt Me - Xaden Riorson x female reader

Summary: Xaden finds you burnt out on the training field

Warnings: none

Words: 6k (somehow)

Notes: Not my fave and not proofread

Y/N's POV

The sun hangs low over Basgiath, bleeding gold and deep crimson across the sky, its light casting jagged shadows over the towering battlements. The war college looms around me, its stone walls unyielding, its presence as foreboding as ever. The air is thick with the lingering scent of sweat and scorched leather, remnants of a day spent in brutal training.

The air is thick with the scent of fresh earth and damp stone as I sprint across the training yard, my feet pounding the ground with a rhythm that feels like a heartbeat—a constant reminder of my inadequacies. Sweat drips down my forehead, stinging my eyes, but I refuse to wipe it away. I don’t have time to care about that. I only have time to run.

Over and over, I push myself to the brink, my body screaming in protest, muscles tight with fatigue. My breaths are ragged, desperate for air that feels like it's slowly being stolen from me. But the pain doesn’t matter. It’s nothing compared to the quiet voice inside my head, the one that whispers my doubts and my fears, the one that tells me I’m not enough.

You can’t keep doing this.

It’s Virethalon’s voice. Low, firm, and impossibly calm, like he always is when he sees me teetering on the edge. His presence pulses in my mind, filling the quiet spaces with a calm I can’t find within myself.

Stop, he says again, the warning clear. You’ll burn out before you ever get the chance to fly.

But I ignore him. I have to. I can’t stop, not when the weight of everyone’s expectations hangs so heavily on my shoulders. I can’t afford to be weak. I can’t afford to be what everyone expects—a failure.

My legs scream, my body trembling with every step, but I push harder. Faster. A flip, a backflip, then a roll, twisting midair in an effort to improve my reaction time, my agility. I force my limbs to obey, despite how they beg for rest, despite how my mind is breaking under the strain.

I am not enough. I’m not strong enough to make it here.

Each fall, each misstep echoes the same message in my mind: You don’t belong.

The words are a sting in my chest, sharp and bitter, poisoning the air in front of me. The instructors don’t believe in me, not truly. They’re waiting for me to break, to fail in front of everyone. The other cadets—they’re watching too, eager to see how long I’ll last.

Stop.

Virethalon’s voice is more insistent now, rising with frustration. I know he’s watching, can feel his eyes on me, even though he’s nowhere near. You don’t need to prove anything.

I don’t stop. I can’t. If I stop now, the quiet, haunting voice of failure will take over. If I stop, I’ll feel it—the shame of not being able to meet the impossible standard everyone else expects from me.

The ground shifts beneath me as I sprint forward, my foot catching on something, my body twisting unnaturally in the air. For a split second, time seems to stretch—slow, agonising. And then, I crash.

The world flips. My body slams into the earth, my hands and knees taking the brunt of it. The impact rattles my bones, sharp and unforgiving. My breath is knocked out of me, and for a moment, I just lay there, feeling the tremor of my body as it tries to recover from the shock.

I’m not moving. I can’t move.

Gentle hands find my shoulders before I can even process what’s happening. The pressure is firm yet careful, guiding me, coaxing me into a sitting position. My body trembles from exhaustion, every muscle protesting the movement, every joint aching with the weight of my own failure. I try to steady myself, but the effort makes the world spin, and I can’t seem to get my bearings.

The cold stone beneath me is a cruel reminder of how far I’ve pushed myself. My hands shake, fingers stiff from too much strain, and I finally drop my head, trying to hide the rush of heat that floods my face.

And then, I feel him.

His presence looms over me like a shadow, suffocating and unavoidable. My heart skips a beat, and I immediately wish I could melt into the ground, anything to escape the situation. But it’s too late.

I glance up—my breath catches as I come face to face with him. Xaden Riorson. He stands before me, looking like a damn god, his tall, muscular frame casting a shadow over me. The way his wide shoulders fill out his leather jacket should be illegal. He’s built like someone who’s spent years training and fighting, his chest massive, arms heavily muscled. His dark hair is windblown and tousled, the kind of messy that only makes him look more dangerous. His tawny-brown skin is kissed by the sun, and the dark stubble along his jawline only adds to the rough, untamed look. His eyes—gold-flecked onyx—are locked on mine with an intensity that makes me feel like I’m about to be set ablaze, and I would rather do anything else than face him like this.

I rub my face with both hands, hoping to hide the blush that’s rising to my cheeks. Of all the ways for this to end—of course, it’s Xaden Riorson who catches me. And of course, he looks like that.

“What the hell are you doing?” he growls, his voice a deep rumble of anger that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “You’re an idiot.”

I blink, half-frozen, half in disbelief. The audacity. “Oh, wow. Thank you, Wing Leader,” I drawl, sarcasm practically dripping from my tongue. “You really know how to make a girl feel special.”

Xaden’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t bite back—at least, not yet. Instead, his eyes flicker over me, and I know he’s assessing the damage. My exhaustion. The way I’m trembling, barely able to hold myself upright. It’s the worst feeling in the world. I’m embarrassed as hell that he’s seeing me like this—weak, on the edge of crumbling.

“I told you to stop before you reached this point,” he mutters, shaking his head. There’s an edge of frustration in his tone now, and I can’t decide if I want to hit something or laugh at how he sounds like he’s scolding a child.

“Yeah, well, you know me,” I say, wiping a bead of sweat off my brow, trying to make myself sound more in control than I feel. “Can’t resist proving everyone wrong.” I let out a bitter laugh, the kind that doesn’t reach my eyes. “But, hey, thanks for showing up and saving the day. Just what every soldier needs: an overbearing Wing Leader.”

A flash of something—maybe amusement, maybe exasperation—crosses his face, but it’s gone too quickly for me to read it properly. His dark brows furrow, and he steps closer, invading my space. “You’re burning yourself out. You can’t keep going like this.”

I force myself to sit up straighter, determined not to appear as weak as I feel, but I can’t hide the tremor in my limbs. The ache in my muscles is almost unbearable now, and Virethalon’s voice echoes through my mind—Stop, or you’ll destroy yourself. But I ignore it, as I have for hours.

I grit my teeth. “I don’t need your help, okay? I don’t need anyone’s help.”

I try to push myself to my feet, but my body betrays me, buckling underneath me like a broken chair. I stumble, gasping for breath, my hand reaching out for support but finding nothing.

Xaden’s eyes flash with anger again, but his movements are faster than I can process. He’s at my side in a heartbeat, and before I can even protest, he lifts me up, cradling me against him in one smooth, powerful motion. His arms are like iron around me, and my body, still trembling with exhaustion, goes stiff against him.

“What the hell are you doing?” I gasp, still trying to regain some semblance of control. I push against his chest—unsuccessfully—my arms too weak to do anything more than flop uselessly at my sides. “Put me down, you asshole!”

Xaden doesn’t respond immediately. He doesn’t have to. His grip tightens, holding me effortlessly against him as he carries me toward the barracks. “I told you to stop, but you never listen. So now you’re paying the price.” His tone is laced with annoyance, but there’s something else beneath it—something that makes my heart twist. Maybe it’s concern, maybe it’s guilt, but I can’t focus on that. I’m too busy trying to avoid the heat that floods my face.

“You’re such a prick,” I mutter, my voice half muffled by his chest. I’m so fucking embarrassed, and I hate that I feel this way. His warmth, his scent, is all-consuming, and my skin burns at the contact. But I refuse to admit it. “I don’t need you to carry me like some helpless baby.”

“Funny,” he says, his voice low, “because you sure look like one right now.”

I can practically hear the smirk in his voice, and I want to punch him. I should punch him. But I don’t have the energy, so I settle for biting my lip, muttering curses under my breath as he carries me.

The weight of his presence presses against me, and I can feel his muscles shifting beneath me, each movement of his body reminding me of just how powerful he is. And for all my protests, for all my sarcasm, I don’t want to admit that I’m secretly grateful. Grateful that he’s here. Grateful that he doesn’t let me fall apart.

Even if it means I have to endure his endless teasing.

Xaden’s warm eyes flicker down at me, and this time, there’s something softer there. Almost like...he understands. But I’m too stubborn to let myself believe it.

Xaden doesn’t say a word as he carries me through the barracks, the warmth of his body pressing against mine as I try to ignore the heat rising in my cheeks. I’m too tired to fight it. His presence is too overwhelming, and I can feel his heartbeat steady against me. Every step he takes is calculated, strong, as though it’s second nature for him to carry someone in his arms like this. It’s as if he’s done it a hundred times—though I have to wonder just how many times I’ve crossed his mind before today.

Xaden moves with a quiet grace, his large frame effortlessly navigating the corridors of the dorm building as though he’s done this a thousand times before. He steps softly, almost soundlessly, his footsteps absorbed by the shadows that seem to cling to him like a second skin. My heart races, but it's not from exertion anymore—it's the way he's so effortlessly commanding in everything he does. The weight of his arms around me, the heat radiating from his body, and the way my mind seems to short-circuit whenever I’m near him make it hard to think straight.

We pass the first-year rooms—mine included—and I can’t help but cringe at the thought of being caught sneaking past curfew. But Xaden moves with such precision, such mastery of his surroundings, that the idea of us being caught seems laughable. No one can hear us, no one even notices us. It’s like we’re ghosts, gliding past the rooms, unseen by anyone else.

I briefly wonder how he does it—how he’s so adept at slipping through the shadows, unnoticed, silent. But then, he’s always been a mystery to me. The kind of mystery I’ve never quite been able to figure out. And maybe, in a way, I don't want to.

Finally, we reach the staircase that leads to the upper floors, and with a swift glance in either direction, Xaden steps into the shadows, carrying me effortlessly up the stairs. We move past the landing and down the hallway to the last door—the one I know leads to his room. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t pause, and with a final quiet push of the door, we’re inside.

Xaden doesn’t put me down right away. His arms remain around me, his hold firm, as if he’s unwilling to let go. As if, for a brief moment, he’s afraid to lose the connection. The closeness between us feels suffocating, overwhelming, and yet I can’t bring myself to pull away. Every inch of my body is acutely aware of his presence, the heat of his skin seeping into mine, the muscle and strength in his arms keeping me held too close. I can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat against me, mirroring the frantic pulse racing through my veins.

His dark eyes meet mine, and I swear, for a second, everything else falls away. His gaze is fierce, like a storm trapped behind his irises, flickering with a raw intensity that sends a wave of heat rushing through me. I’m suddenly aware of how painfully close we are—so close that if I moved even an inch, I’d be pressed against him completely. My breath catches, and I can’t look away, trapped in the gravity of his stare, like he’s pulling me toward him without even trying. And then, as if trying to fight whatever is building between us, his eyes flicker to my lips, and I feel it—the pull—stronger than anything I’ve ever felt.

But just as quickly as the moment seems to rise, he jerks his gaze away, his jaw tightening with the effort to control himself. It’s like he’s trying to push back the part of him that’s aware—aware of the magnetic pull between us, aware of how much he’s been fighting this… whatever this is. He shakes his head slightly, as though dismissing the thought entirely, like he’s trying to shut down the desire that flares in him. But I see it in his eyes—the flicker of something primal. Something I can’t ignore.

Finally, he sets me down, but he doesn’t let go immediately. He’s still so close that I can feel his breath on my skin, a whisper of warmth against the cold, the tension stretching taut between us, like a string pulled too tight. My pulse races as I settle onto the bed, the soft covers pressing against me, but my chest feels like it’s about to burst. I try to catch my breath, but it’s like the air in the room has thickened, heavy with unsaid words and the suffocating weight of everything unsaid.

Xaden doesn’t back away. He hovers, towering over me, his presence suffusing the space around us. I can feel the heat radiating off him, his body just a breath away, and every inch of me is screaming to close the distance. But I don’t move. I’m not sure I can. His nearness makes every part of me ache, makes every nerve light up, thrumming with the raw electricity that crackles between us.

His voice cuts through the thick silence, deep and steady, but there’s something almost... softer now, something gentler that makes my heart stutter. “Stay here,” he commands, his words pressing down on me like a physical weight, making my chest tighten. The force of his tone is undeniable, but there’s an undercurrent of something else—something that makes my stomach flutter. Something dangerous and thrilling all at once. "Be a good girl. Don’t go anywhere.”

I feel those words in my bones, in the very marrow of my being. The way he says it—it’s like a promise, a command that makes my heart race faster than it should. And yet, there’s a tenderness beneath it, a strange gentleness that pulls at me, twists my insides into knots. He wants to keep me here, close. He wants to possess this moment with me, even though I can feel the struggle in him—his body yearning to cross the line, but his mind pulling him back, trying to control what’s growing between us.

His gaze holds mine, unwavering, and I swear I see something break in his eyes—something raw and unspoken. It’s as if he’s holding himself back from doing something he knows would be too much, too dangerous. But the look in his eyes tells me everything I need to know: the battle is far from over, and this tension—this charge—it’s only just beginning.

I try to swallow, but my throat is dry. Every muscle in my body is taut, every nerve alive with an electric hum. Xaden disappears into the adjoining ensuite, his heavy footsteps echoing softly across the stone floor. I can hear the gentle hiss of the water filling the tub, the steady flow of it working in rhythm with the hammering of my heart. The tension between us lingers, the silence more suffocating now than ever before, and I can’t shake the feeling of his gaze still lingering on me even as he disappears from the room.

I should feel grateful for the space—should breathe, slow my pulse—but all I can think of is him. The way he’s so effortlessly commanding, yet there’s this softness beneath it that I can't quite place. The way he had looked at me, his expression a battle between restraint and something far more intense.

My fingers twitch, almost compulsively, and I reach for my boots, needing to do something. My body is still shaking from the exertion, from the near-collapse, and now my brain feels fuzzy, the exhaustion creeping in faster than I expected. I should just wait, I know I should, but I feel... out of control. I need to regain some semblance of normalcy, something to anchor me.

I struggle to bend down, but my balance is still far off from the punishment I just put my body through. My vision swims a little, and before I can register what’s happening, my body tips forward, sending me sprawling from the edge of the bed with a yelp. The floor greets me hard, and a shock of pain shoots up my spine, but it's nothing compared to the embarrassment that floods through me in waves. My pulse spikes, and I scramble, feeling utterly ridiculous.

A sharp, almost instinctive growl of frustration rises in the air—Xaden. He’s already moving quickly, a blur of motion as he rushes back into the room, his broad form filling the doorway in an instant. His dark eyes sweep over me, a flicker of concern passing through them, but it’s quickly replaced with something harder—almost irritated.

"You really are a disaster, aren't you?" His voice is deep, but there's a teasing bite to it, even as he crosses the room toward me in strides that eat up the distance. I can’t even find it in me to be offended. I’m too busy feeling like a complete fool.

Before I can open my mouth to respond, he’s crouching in front of me, his hands reaching for my arms to steady me. The sheer strength in his touch almost knocks the wind out of me as he helps me back onto my feet, the warmth of his hands traveling through my skin and straight to my chest. He doesn’t say anything else, but the way his eyes linger on me for a moment, as though making sure I’m okay, sends something fluttering nervously in my stomach.

“Try not to break anything else, would you?” His voice is softer now, as though the weight of the moment has finally broken through that icy exterior of his. His lips curve into a smirk, but there’s no denying the genuine care beneath the sarcasm.

Xaden moves with quiet precision, his hands wrapping around my waist, gentle but firm, as he guides me toward the bed. The heat from his touch lingers on my skin, and despite everything, I can't help but shiver. His grip is unyielding, his presence surrounding me, and as I sit on the edge of the bed, he stands in front of me, towering over me. The dim light from the room casts shadows across his features, making him look even more intimidating than usual, but there’s something in his eyes that betrays the mask he’s trying so hard to maintain.

His hands rest on my knees for a moment, and his gaze flickers to mine. There’s a question there, unspoken, something almost vulnerable beneath that stoic expression. I can see the battle waging in his eyes. He doesn’t want to touch me—at least, that’s what his expression says. But his eyes… those eyes of molten gold flecked with onyx… they betray him, flashing with an intensity I can’t quite read.

And then, in a moment that feels both like an eternity and a breath, Xaden sinks to his knees in front of me. The movement is fluid, almost too graceful, and my heart skips a beat. It feels wrong to be this close, too intimate. His presence is overwhelming, and I can feel the tension in the room thickening with every inch of space he closes between us.

Xaden kneels before me, his hands gentle but firm as he removes my boots. His touch is careful, almost reverent, but the tension is unmistakable. Each movement is deliberate, like he's holding himself back from something. The weight of his gaze on me is intense—smouldering, even—and I can feel every inch of him watching, noticing, memorising.

As he pulls off the second boot, his fingers brush against my calf, sending a jolt through me. My breath catches, and I instinctively tense, but it's more from the electric charge between us than the discomfort of my body. I don’t know why it affects me like this—this man who’s never once been shy about hiding the way he feels or thinking that his touch doesn’t matter—but in this moment, it matters. It matters more than it should.

He looks up then, his gaze locking onto mine. The heat in his eyes is unmistakable, a dark storm brewing just beneath the surface. His brow furrows slightly, and for a split second, I wonder if he’s questioning something—me, himself, what we’re both doing here, like this. But then his eyes flick lower, and I can see the hesitation there, a silent question that hangs in the air between us.

His fingers hover at the waistband of my tracksuit bottoms, brushing lightly against my hips. The touch is almost too soft, as if he’s trying to gauge my reaction before crossing a line that’s already dangerously blurred. He doesn’t say a word—he doesn’t have to. The question is in his eyes, in the way his lips part ever so slightly, in the subtle tension in his jaw. It’s an unspoken request, one that I know all too well.

I can feel the pulse of uncertainty in my veins, but something about this—about him—makes me lower my defences, just a little. Without even thinking, I raise my hips slightly, just enough to give him the signal. My movement is small, almost imperceptible, but it's enough. His breath hitches, and I can see the way his eyes flicker, a momentary loss of control before he tightens his grip on his composure.

Xaden exhales sharply, like he’s been holding his breath all this time, and I can see it in his expression—the struggle between what he wants and what he’s trying so hard to resist. His fingers slide beneath the waistband of my tracksuit bottoms, and I feel the slightest tremor in his touch. He’s slow, deliberate, like he’s savouring the moment, but also like he’s afraid that if he moves too quickly, the entire thing might shatter.

The air between us crackles with an electric tension, and as he helps me out of the fabric, I’m left feeling exposed in a way that’s more than physical. My heartbeat is louder than anything else, pounding in my ears, and for a moment, I forget about the aches in my body, the bruises, the exhaustion. It’s as though the world has narrowed to just us. Just this. And I can’t seem to pull away from him, from the way he makes me feel, from the way his hands linger a little too long at the edge of my clothing, as if to remind me that he sees me—every part of me.

I know it’s not supposed to feel this way, not like this. But every glance, every touch, every quiet, unspoken word between us is enough to unravel the careful walls I’ve built. And yet, even as he pulls the tracksuit bottoms off, his hands gentle but insistent, there’s something else in his eyes—something that tells me he’s fighting every urge to touch me, to kiss me. But he doesn’t. He never does.

I can’t decide whether that makes it harder or easier.

And when he finishes, leaving me in nothing but my sports bra and panties, I feel more vulnerable than I’ve ever been—completely at his mercy, exposed in more ways than one. The air is thick with unspoken words, and even as I sit there, trying to catch my breath, I know this isn’t over.

Xaden lets out a frustrated sound, a low, throaty growl that resonates deep in his chest. His breath stutters as his forehead falls gently to my thigh, the weight of it anchoring me in place. The intensity of the moment is suffocating, like the world around us has slowed to a stop, leaving only the two of us, tangled in something we can’t deny. His hands are gripping the edge of the bed, his knuckles white, and I can feel the tension in his body, a tight coil of restraint and hunger.

And then, in one swift, desperate motion, he surges upward, his lips crashing against mine. There’s no warning, no hesitation. Just pure, raw need. His mouth takes mine with a fierce intensity that leaves me breathless, as though he’s been holding back for far too long and now there’s no more control. It’s like he’s been starved for this—starved for me—and he doesn’t want to let me go, not even for a second.

I kiss him back with everything I have, my hands finding the sides of his face, pulling him closer, as if I can’t get enough. Every part of me feels alive with the heat between us, my skin tingling where his fingers brush against it, my heart thudding erratically in my chest. He tastes like fire—burning hot, consuming—and I can’t help but fall into him, into the kiss, into the feeling of him. I can feel the weight of his body pressing against mine, the strength of him, but it’s not overbearing. It’s grounding, like he’s pulling me into his orbit.

His hands move quickly, urgently, as if he’s afraid the moment will slip away from him. Before I can fully comprehend what’s happening, he’s lifting me effortlessly from the bed, and suddenly I’m straddling his thighs. His hands settle on my hips, holding me in place, the heat of his body radiating into mine. I can feel the way his pulse races beneath his skin, the way his chest rises and falls against mine. The kiss deepens, growing even more frantic, and I don’t know whether it’s the intensity of it or the way he’s holding me that makes everything else feel so insignificant.

He pulls me closer, his hands guiding me with a possessive, yet gentle touch, and I can feel the thrum of energy between us, something electric, something undeniable. My fingers tangle in his hair, tugging him closer, and the sound of his breathing, his heavy exhales, fills the space between us. I can hear the way he’s fighting for control, the way his muscles tighten with the effort of keeping his composure.

But I don’t want him to. I don’t want him to hold back.

I don’t want him to fight it anymore.

I can feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of my sports bra, his chest pressing against mine with each movement, and I’m acutely aware of how close we are, how easy it would be to lose ourselves completely in this. And yet, even as we continue kissing, tangled in each other’s embrace, there’s a part of me that’s still unsure, still trying to catch up with everything happening around me. But when his hands slide down to my thighs, gripping them with such possessiveness, that uncertainty melts away, replaced by a heady rush of desire.

The kiss breaks, but just for a moment, both of us gasping for air. His lips hover above mine, and I can see the raw intensity in his eyes, a mixture of frustration and something else—something far more tender, even if it’s buried beneath the layers of urgency.

"Don't stop," he mutters, his voice rough and low. His hands tighten around me, pulling me against him, as if he’s trying to make sure I’m real. “Please don’t stop.”

And all I can do is nod, my chest still rising and falling with the rapid pace of my heart. I don't want to stop either.

The air between us feels thick with heat, charged with a tension that I don't want to break, even as the reality of what we’re doing begins to settle in. Xaden’s hands are still firm on my hips, his grip tightening with every shift of my body, and I can feel every muscle in his form, every bit of control he's holding onto, fighting to stay composed. He pulls me closer again, the fabric of my sports bra barely separating us, his chest brushing against mine as he presses his forehead to mine, both of us gasping for breath.

The heat from his skin, the closeness of his body, is too much to ignore. It's overwhelming in the best way. I can hear my own pulse hammering in my ears, feel the electricity between us that neither of us can escape. He looks at me, his gold-flecked eyes searching mine, his breath ragged as if he's barely holding on to the edge of whatever control he has left.

I can't stop myself from raising my hand to touch his face, my fingers trailing down the line of his jaw, tracing the hard curve of his chin, feeling the roughness of his stubble. The tenderness in my touch makes him shiver, his breath catching in his throat, and for a brief second, everything else fades. There’s no training, no curfew, no expectations—just the two of us, caught in something far more complex than either of us ever intended.

His lips brush against mine once more, a soft, tentative kiss, but it feels more intimate than the previous fiery moments. It's full of the unspoken things, the feelings we've been hiding, buried beneath layers of duty and unacknowledged desire. Xaden pulls back slowly, just enough to look at me, his eyes heavy with something unreadable.

"I—" he starts, his voice thick with emotion, but I stop him, my fingers pressing gently to his lips.

“I know," I whisper. "I know, Xaden. We don’t need to say it.”

The words hang in the air between us, unspoken yet understood. He looks at me, really looks at me, and for once, there’s no pretension, no walls between us. Just a moment of raw honesty.

But then, he pulls back just a fraction, his hands slowly loosening their grip on me, as if reluctant to let go but knowing he has to. His eyes soften, a flicker of something tender passing over his features before he runs a hand through his windblown hair, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

“You should rest,” he murmurs, though there’s a trace of something unreadable in his voice. “You’ve pushed yourself too hard tonight.”

I nod, feeling the weight of his words as the adrenaline from our moment starts to ebb away, leaving me with a sense of vulnerability, of exhaustion I hadn’t realised had been creeping up on me. My body is still sore from the training, but now, there’s an ache of a different kind, a deep, resonating need I’m not sure how to deal with.

“You’re right,” I murmur, my voice hoarse. “About that bath…”

Xaden’s hands gently guide me to my feet, his fingers lingering on my hips just a moment longer than necessary, as if making sure I’m steady before he lets go. His touch is firm but considerate, grounding me, reminding me that he’s here, present, in this moment. I almost wish he didn’t have to pull away so soon, but the space between us feels impossible to close for reasons I can’t quite name.

With a soft grunt, Xaden rises to his full height, towering over me for a moment before he reaches down and picks me up again, effortlessly moving me toward the bed. His strong arms encircle my waist, and I feel the heat radiating from his chest, the power in his body that he keeps so carefully controlled. He sets me down gently on the edge of the mattress, the softness of the sheets a stark contrast to the tension that still crackles in the air between us.

I sit there for a moment, watching him, as he turns toward the bathroom, his broad back stretching as he moves, his muscular frame rippling with every step. His windblown black hair falls just above his collar, and I can't help but stare at the way he walks—confident, purposeful, but there’s an undercurrent of something, a quiet storm inside him that’s barely contained.

The silence feels heavy, too heavy, until I finally speak up, the words tumbling out before I can stop them.

“... Maybe you could join me?”

The moment they leave my mouth, time seems to slow. Xaden freezes in his tracks, his hand hovering over the doorframe, his back to me. For a breathless second, I wonder if he didn’t hear me, if the words just got lost in the space between us. But then, the tension in his body is palpable. His shoulders tighten, his jaw clenches, and I watch as a low, almost imperceptible sound slips from his throat—a frustrated, breathy exhale that he seems to be holding back with all his strength.

He doesn’t turn around right away, but when he does, his eyes meet mine, and there's a flicker of something dangerous there. It’s not anger. It’s hunger—raw, palpable, and so intense that it sends a shiver down my spine. I can't look away, can't tear my gaze from his. The silence between us stretches, thickening, until I can almost feel the heat coming off of him.

"You really want that?" His voice is low, a little strained, like he's trying to rein himself in. There's a slight tremor in his hands, and his posture is tense, like a coil ready to snap. He’s trying to keep himself in check, and I know he’s holding back everything he wants to say, everything he wants to do. But there's something in his eyes, a flicker of vulnerability, of yearning, that betrays the composure he’s trying so hard to maintain.

I nod slowly, heart pounding in my chest as I search his face, looking for any sign of hesitation, any clue that I’ve crossed a line. But there’s none. Instead, he takes a step toward me, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he’s waiting for me to stop him, to give him some sort of excuse to turn back. But I don’t.

I don’t know what happens next, only that the space between us feels like it’s been stretched so thin that it could snap at any moment. Xaden is so close now, his presence overwhelming, and I can’t breathe, not properly. All I can do is stare at him, feel the pull, the need between us, and wonder if he can feel it too.

“Don’t tempt me,” he mutters under his breath, before stepping into the bathroom, leaving me to wonder if he’ll give in, if he’ll actually let this tension between us break.

Part Two ⇒ Giving Into Temptation

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