#the hype for x reader is strong

[tokuteasings]

Kiss Headcanons - Ohsama Sentai Kingohger

IF I GOTTA FUCKING MAKE CONTENT FOR KINGOHGER, I FUCKING WILL. TALE ONEECHAN WILL NOT LET MY FELLOW KINGOHGER SIMPS GO HUNGRY-

so yeah ive been on a kingohger train ever since the first episode so here i am. im not sorry. now take it.

Warnings: Some is a biiiit nsfw kinda but other than that? Not much. Probably some OOC a bit but oh well. We’re all here to have fun anyway.

@lunalove25​ babe im so sorry fhdusihbugfh

Gira

Kisses with Gira are these sweet affairs that are accented by starlight nights, hand-in-hand, promises kept between the two of you that are these sweet little whispers within the wee hours of the night. It’s these waltzes that are sugary sweet and gets you addicted to him. He’s always holding you whenever he kisses you, never letting you go because he loves you oh so much! He’s princely, adoring, everything and anything you could want. He’s the boy next door, these summer kisses on the trail ends of a wonderland vacation and you kiss him like it's your last and you’ll never see him again. Gira always smiles into each and every kiss you two share because…he just does. He does it because these emotions make his heart flutter and he cannot help but smile!

It’s different when he puts on the image of the “evil king” however. These are passionate, secret trysts between lovers. It doesn’t mean he isn’t adorable during this, smiling into his kiss as well but it’s more so of a smirk. He’s also still clinging on to you while doing this, but it’s more so of an emotion of “I don’t want to let you go.” versus his normal emotion of “I want to be with you.” Sure the kids get all grossed out by the kisses but as dramatic as Gira is, he loves dipping you whenever he kisses you in this persona. Or spinning you around and then dipping you! Just to make the kids roll their eyes.

Hand kisses are different for each of the Kingohgers; but for Gira sure it’s this reverent thing but he adores hand kisses in general. Sure it’s a sign of royalty but Gira loves it when you kiss his knuckles since he’s such a tactile person first and foremost. He isn’t royalty but a king of evil and sometimes during roleplays he will dramatically kiss your hand and send you a wink. This leads him to spinning you around and dipping you as said earlier but honestly, these hand kisses almost make him shy if you give them back to him. He does preen inside at them but it’s different now that he’s actually an “evil king” and a part of him feels…almost unworthy? He’ll brush it off if you ask him about it but it’ll take some time for him to get used to you kissing his hand. Giving your hand kisses is merely a gesture that is something that simply happens! He doesn’t give hand kisses as much as like cheek or lip kisses but these are nice. 

Gira also is a spontaneous kisser! Whenever he sees you, he has this energy to him that makes him want to run to you, catch you into his arms, and kiss your breath away. He’s pretty open to PDA but tones it down around children. He’s merely happy with simple cheek kisses, pecks on the lips, but forehead kisses make him melt the most, especially once he puts on his evil king persona. You get this small little giggle out of him, that breaks character before he’s blushing and clearing his throat to regain his composure. But Gira adores giving you forehead kisses too! Those are, perhaps, his favorite. He preens and purrs in this adoring little way. But forehead kisses in the lull of calm are also lovely. He can let his heart run wild, loosen his burdens and drop his shoulders. He’s safe here, he doesn’t have to fight, pretend, or run for his life. He can just think of you and you alone.

How often he needs kisses is another story. Gira is secretly pretty clingy and he isn’t super vocal about his wants and needs. He’s happy to exist in the same space as you but while sometimes he can speak that he wants a kiss, there are moments when he can’t. It’s not that he’s shy, it’s just this silence because he gets tongue tied for a moment or just generally misses you. You see this in his angsty little posture, nervously shifting from side to side and glancing up at you and to your lips. He wants to say something but he can’t. It’s best just to ask him what he wants and he’ll say it, but sometimes it’s best to tease him and slam your lips together! It’s fucking amazing just to see him flush and stutter before he does the same to you.

~

Yanma Gust

It’s electric. It’s a shock to your systems. You always get this jolt of dopamine from him or literal static electricity depending on the situation. Yanma is not the most affectionate person in public, but the kisses he gives you are something that are meant to jumpstart your systems and bring you back to earth instead of riding high on the love you two have for each other - although he does tend to do the same…not that he would admit it. But these kisses are firing off so many neurons within your head, giving you the most lovely of rushes as he grips on to you. He doesn’t want to let you go, not when this addicting feeling that defies all logic and returns him to his base emotions exists. He’s going to keep it here for as long as he can. Keep you by his side, as long as you are willing to fly with him. 

Public kisses are not too often due to how busy he is and he has people watching him constantly. Many people adore him and honestly, they fucking ship you two to hell and back. It’s hilarious to see especially Shiokara who lets out small little, “Kya~!” or dramatic gasps whenever he sees you two show affection to each other in public. He would cover his eyes but peek through his fingers and Yanma would berate him and tell him to leave with the most red-ass face. But honestly, even though Yanma tends to brush off your kisses during public moments, “Save them for later. I’m busy,” would be his excuse, he secretly enjoys them. He’s almost…pouty in a way, that he has to “share” your visage with others. He reserves these kisses for his office, quick little pecks here and there on the lips and cheeks and if you’re lucky…sometimes he will pin you to the wall and show you how much he missed your lips against his…

Hand kisses, to Yanma, are a blessing. He works with his hands so often that he forgets to take care of them, and thus, himself. Hand kisses, thus, are like these moments that force him to relax and think of something else other than his work for once. He does flush whenever you do it to him (especially in public) but there’s this small smile to his lips whenever you do it and he inwardly preens at the gesture. Yanma giving hand kisses on the other hand, is a way for him to say “thank you” to you. He is more than able to do it verbally, but there’s times when he is a man of action and not of words. So he tends to kiss the pads of your fingers first, then the tip of your finger, then your finger joints, then knuckles, and then the back of your hand. He’s a lot more sappy whenever he does this, smiling into each and every gesture he gives you. 

In private, Yanma is passionate. It’s all of the affection he can’t show in public towards you just building up and bubbling over until it snaps within him. You’re pinned against the wall, to the door, to the floor, whatever surface this man can reach...you are not escaping from him. He is the top of your world, he is your king, and he demands that you pay attention to him. Perhaps it is full blown make out sessions, with him cupping your chin and forcing you to look at him. He just...can’t hold it in anymore. Intelligent as he is, sometimes he needs to turn off his brain and let his emotions rule him, as they always did, perhaps.

Yanma...leaves you wanting these kisses. He knows how to make you yearn for more but honestly, so does he. He doesn’t need kisses too often, so he claims, but in fact he does need them. It’s a sort of game of cat-and-mouse between you. How long can you two keep apart from one another? How long can you two go without kissing one another? How long can you two go without being in each other’s arms? It depends on Yanma’s workload but sometimes he can’t do it anymore and just beckons you to his office to just kiss you. Sometimes he can get jealous as well, and sometimes he likes making you jealous. Honestly, it’s a toss up...but he’s a calculative man...he knows how to play you like a damn fiddle - to kiss your breath away and knows every single little spot to make you keel...

~

Himeno Ran

It’s sugar, it’s spice, it’s everything nice. Kissing Himeno is this delicacy of high class dining, of a woman who knows what she wants and how to get it. You will not deny her, to defy her is a sin against the will of a goddess. She demands to be worshiped, to be loved, to steal away your breath and heart and let her worship you in turn as well. Despite her haughty attitude and her ego, Himeno adores love for the sake of love. Her kingdom is a thing of beauty and to her, you are the most beautiful thing in the world (next to herself). She always tastes of honey and sweet wine, like she came fresh out of a garden and always smells of the most lavish of roses. Each kiss you two share is like a romp through the gardens, like you two have been together forever and will bloom together for an eternity. 

Hand kisses for her are a power trip for her. She preens and purrs every time you kiss the back of her hand. Everyone does it, as she is a royal, but yours are just special to her. She tends to giggle and coyly twirl a lock of her blonde hair around her gloved finger, “Oh, for me? Dearest heart, you shouldn’t have. But please continue.” but despite this, kissing the tips of her fingers is different. She’s used to being kissed on the back of the hand, but the kisses you share with her on her fingers are much more intimate and actually make her flush just a bit. She only tends to take her gloves off around you, and only you. You are the only one that has the pleasure to kiss the most intimate parts of her. And she is proud of it. But kissing your hands is different. She’s spontaneous about it and sure she does it because it’s royal decorum and all but it’s these...butterfly kisses that dust against your knuckles that pour out every single part of her love for you. 

Public kisses are found aplenty. She will make her kisses upon you known to the entire world and the servants tend to roll their eyes and nod their heads whenever she does this. But to her, because you two are in love with one another why else wouldn’t she want to showcase it all to the world?! Whenever she can, she will happily kiss you and demand to be kissed! As your queen and your queen alone, Himeno Ran deserves all of your kisses and attention. Also is kind of dramatic and will fucking dip you and be dipped for kisses in return after doing a little spin~!

Himeno needs kisses now and often. She is clingy as all get out and will demand them whenever she sees you. They are her rewards for her beauty, for her existence. But here’s the thing, the kisses she gives to you whenever she’s in a romantic mood (which is often) are greedy but they’re softer. Flower petals against your lips like you two are slow dancing to some sort of beat only you two know. In fact, kisses while you two are dancing together are possibly some of her favorite. She would rest your head against her shoulder if you’re shorter than her or hers on yours if you’re taller - sometimes you two can turn your heads to the side to press a kiss to the neck or the cheek but other times it’s these slow lazy kisses that cause her heart to utterly skip a beat and a cute little flush to her cheeks.

Himeno has a bit of a jealous streak so expect her to leave her lipstick marks all over you. It gets smeared on your lips all the time, on to your cheeks, or literally everywhere she can reach. Even the places only you two would know. If you wipe it off, Himeno will only press more upon you. She claims it only adds into your beauty, and she loves having her lipstick marks decorating your skin like some sort of necklace. If you do the same to her (like hickies or whatnot) she will wear them with pride though doll them up with a hint of make up to make them stand out a bit more. Expect jealous kisses often as well, she is a possessive young lady and uh...the entire kingdom knows it. 

~

Rita Kanisuka

Kissing Rita is cold at first, stepping out into a winter day but the gesture of love between you is more than enough to warm you both up from the inside out. It’s this equilibrium of hot and cold, sharing each other’s heat and chill till it reaches a pitch and you two are forced to break apart. They’re awkward in expressing affection but they will let you know in the most simple of ways. Whenever you two finish kissing, you two always end up pressing your foreheads together to further bask in that warmth that is meant to be shared. Because Rita is bad at expressing things vocally, they prefer these sweeter and passionate kisses even if they freeze up sometimes. But trust me when I say that Rita desires warmth from you, tangling a hand into your hair to pull you close to their form and never letting you go until you both are out of breath. If you kiss them both with this same amount of passion, there is a possibility they will melt...

Rita secretly adores finger kisses and nose kisses. Because of how cold Gokkan is, those types of kisses warm them up oh so quickly. Sometimes you can’t tell if they’re just cold or if they’re just blushing brightly. But while it is a power trip, Rita prefers these kisses because it’s intimate and a form of affection between you. In private, they take off their gloves and touch you is this...new sensation for them. To Rita, it’s almost like only you are allowed to feel their actual touch and to be blessed with the butterfly kisses of a monarch so shrouded in mystery that you have solved it and will keep this secret to yourself until you die. Similarly, despite their timidness, Rita will also give you the same finger and nose kisses in order to warm you up as well! The cold is a dangerous thing and they would hate it if you got frostbitten! Himeno likes to joke that it’s a “good luck charm” to get rid of frostbite and Rita told her to shove it but would still keep doing it anyway, lol.

Rita in public will never give you kisses in any capacity. In fact, they probably keep this relationship a secret from everyone around them, even their own attendant Morphonia. They will find out one way or another because Rita has never shown such tenderness to other people before but...yeah, you’re going to be starved for affection in public. If you are starved for it though, Rita will brush your hands together and a brief squeeze of the hand before letting you go - perhaps an apology or a promise for more. It doesn’t mean Rita won’t sneak kisses to you from time to time - reserved for only office visits and the briefest of kisses that almost seem like they never existed in the first place. Sometimes you need to take the plunge and pull them by their stupid collar into a kiss during these private moments and make them fucking die on the inside. It’s so cute to see their pale cheeks burn red because of this and you gotta burn this image into your head for all eternity. 

Rita secretly does enjoy these kisses you two share but truth be told, sometimes it is overwhelming. They’re not used to these sorts of affections and the first kisses you two shared were rather awkward. Sometimes these awkward moments remain because they cannot properly vocalize their wants and needs to kiss you. Sometimes it’s like complete radio silence, other times they simply just stand by you and glance towards your lips in this silent plea for some sort of affection. Further into the relationship, they’re better at vocalizing and even portraying these affections with gently caresses of the hand or pulling you towards them. Still, it is best to help them ease into this with gentle kisses and taking the lead half of the time. 

There are days when you think Rita just...doesn’t care for you. They’re so cold most of the time and cool headed, thinking of work and the kingdom that sometimes you feel like you’re alone. So when Rita is made aware of this, their kisses become much more passionate. It’s this apology for not being there for you, yes, but Rita...wants to be out there. In reality, they’re working on their confidence to properly approach you with the affection that you deserve. Rita promises, internally, that they will one day be able to properly kiss you and sweep you off of your feet. But until then, they are fine with these secret kisses and sweet, saccharine forehead kisses that melt their heart and forever etch yourself into their mind. Perhaps because of those forehead kisses, Rita finds them to be their favorite. They’re simple, quick, adoring, and tell you many things at once. 

~

Kaguragi Dybowski

It’s sake against your tongue. It’s this honeyed wine that drowns you deeper and deeper into this drunken stupor that you never want to get out of. In fact, why would you even want to? Not when he’s tilting your chin to meet him (upwards or downwards depending on the height diff) and using his silvery tongue to lure you into this dance that allows you two to get lost into the movements. Where will it lead you two? No one knows, least of all Kaguragi. But these kisses leave you breathless every time, perhaps flushed and he only chuckles and loudly laughs before asking, “Do you wish to kiss again?” with a silly little wiggle of his brows and maybe letting your noses “kiss” before going on to the main event. But whenever he smiles into the kiss...it’s a smirk. It’s a plan of how to make you keel and keen, or just him enjoying the sensation. 

Loves hiding his kisses behind his fan, for a dramatic flair. Just a bit. But there is this underlying possessiveness to each time he does this. Especially in public, where he’s robbing everyone of your beautiful visage that only he himself can see. Though, Kaguragi doesn’t mind cheek kisses in public and will show you off to the people around him. But lip kisses are sacred for him, and perhaps this is a show of how much he is truly into this relationship. He double-deals and triple-deals and sometimes it’s hard to figure out what Kaguragi is going to do next but if he’s keeping you this close to him, hiding you from the world and being utterly selfish when he’s normally so selfless...

Kaguragi actually doesn’t kiss your hand in public, cheek kisses are the only thing you are getting in public. Though, actually, you give him the finger and hand kisses more often than not. Kaguragi will kiss your hand but he tends to blush and inwardly smile whenever you kiss his hand. His hands are a bit rough and while they are cared for, something like these small intimate gestures between you two makes him inwardly...feel at ease. There’s no need to lie, to cheat, to steal, and he can just be himself around you. He protects his kingdom, he protects you, and you protect his heart. Him giving hand kisses can lead to sexy times but more so it’s along the lines of: “Believe me when words fail me, believe me when my tongue has done to harm, believe me when this gesture is only a part of how much I truly do love you and treasure you.”

Kisses are a game and a reward at the same time. To someone like Kaguragi, he may pepper you with affection for one minute and then leave you high and dry the next. Sometimes if you two are doing something together and something positive happens between the two of you, he’ll plant a kiss upon your lips or your cheek. It’s not that he’s competitive but sometimes he just likes teasing you to the fullest. This is more evident in private, when Kaguragi will be doing paperwork and turn to turn, “My dearest, will you perchance give me a kiss once I finished this page?” and if you’re doing something, “Ah! You are almost done with your work? Well then, this calls for a celebration!” but if he’s in a playful mood, he’ll sneakily try to kiss your lips but then misdirect his lips and kiss somewhere else! He’ll be like “Ah! I missed, I apologize.” he’s doing this on purpose. Make him flustered by slamming your lips together. It’s the fucking best.

Actually, it’s difficult to make him loose his cool. But truth be told, the best way to do this with Kaguragi is to simply show him much softer kisses. It’s not that he can’t do them, it’s more so a gentle surprise each them you two do so. He’s been desired before, he knows what that is. But to be loved in this capacity? Of holding his face in your hands and running thumbs over his cheekbones, to tilt your head to the side sweetly and let these gestures runaway with you both...so take his face into your hands and watch him melt. Watch him worship you as the sun who warms the lands of his home and blesses them with life. Kiss his forehead and his nose during these times, to let him know that Kaguragi can simply be Kaguragi. Not the damiyo of his home, but himself.

[syoish-aot]

the devil on my shoulder: no one who follows this blog cares about your attack on titan OC the OTHER devil on my shoulder (who's sexier and significantly more convincing): you mean no one who follows this blog cares about your attack on titan OC... YET

[yuujispinkhair]

Boyfie Sukuna picking you up from your late shift

A while ago, a sweet anon sent me an ask about protective boyfie Sukuna picking up reader from a late shift, and I loved it so much because I would have really needed him too when I was still doing late shifts. So here is a little drabble about Kuna picking us up from work. I hope you enjoy it 💗

Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female). Fluff. Word Count 900. Mentions of smoking. Minors don't interact. Dividers @/benkeibear

"Ok, let's do this," you mutter to yourself as you push open the heavy back door, trying to hype yourself up and steeling yourself for the darkness that will await you outside of your workplace at this time.

You hate your late shifts when you're the only one left in the building and have to use the exit in the back. Your pulse already speeds up at the thought of having to walk down the dimly lit back alley to reach the main street and the subway station.

But you have no other choice, and so you step out the door and into the dark alley. And immediately jump when a low voice drawls,

"Hey, princess."

You dart around with a hand clutched to your chest and your eyes wide, even as your brain begins to register that you know this voice. And, of course, your gaze lands on a very familiar tall, muscular figure with a beautiful, tattooed face and slicked-back pink hair.

Sukuna.

He is leaning casually against the brick wall, one hand shoved into the pocket of his black jeans, the other bringing a half-smoked cigarette to his lips. He smirks around the cigarette, maroon eyes looking amusedly at you.

"Did I scare you?"

You glare at him, even as you feel a huge relief wash over you. Relief and that all-too-familiar fluttery feeling in your stomach that you always get when you see your boyfriend.

"Kuna! What the... yes, you scared me! What are you doing here?"

Sukuna exhales slowly, watching you through the cigarette smoke with those beautiful cat-like eyes as he shrugs and smirks that devilishly attractive smirk,

"Making sure my girl gets home safely, of course."

You can't stop the big, happy smile from spreading over your face. This side of your boyfriend always makes you so weak for him. This sweet side of Sukuna that contradicts everything the people who told you he wouldn't be good for you said.

Yes, your boyfriend has a bad boy reputation. But yet, here he is, picking you up after your late shift without you having to ask for it. So protective and caring when it comes to you.

"I'm glad you are here, baby."

You smile and get on your tiptoes to kiss Sukuna's tattooed cheek, feeling the anxiety you felt earlier leave you completely. When Sukuna is with you, you know you are safe.

Sukuna grins as he flicks his cigarette away and wraps one strong arm around you to pull you against his tall body. His lips brush against your forehead in a quick but tender kiss.

"Let's go home, princess. Dinner is waiting for you."

"You already cooked too? Are you practicing to become a househusband, Kuna?"

You grin up at Sukuna playfully, and he laughs, but he sounds very pleased when he replies in that sexy, velvety voice,

"For you? Always."

He winks at you and offers you one of his muscular, tattooed arms as if he is a knight or an actor in a 1950s rom-com. And you take Sukuna's arm and hold on to him as you walk down the dimly lit alley together.

Usually, you are scared to walk down this narrow, dark street. But not tonight. Not when you are holding onto Sukuna's arm, your hand wrapped tightly around his bulging tattooed biceps, his tall, strong body so reassuringly brushing against your side.

The dark alley and the nightly city have lost their scariness now that Sukuna is with you and tells you about the dinner he cooked for you and how he beat his brother at a video game they were playing earlier.

You know you are safe when Sukuna is with you. Even the two sinister-looking guys loitering around at the end of the alley quickly leave after casting one look at Sukuna's tattooed face and his tall, muscular body.

You smile and snuggle against Sukuna's warm body, thinking that there are definitely certain benefits to dating a bad boy.

You reach Sukuna's car shortly after, and he holds open the passenger door for you while smirking that sexy, boyish smirk, always acting like an old-fashioned gentleman when it comes to you.

You watch him while he drives, one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on your thigh, interlacing his long tattooed fingers with your smaller ones.

And you can't stop smiling from ear to ear. Sukuna cooked dinner for you. He came here to pick you up. And you know that he's turning up the heating in his car just for you. He runs on the hot side and doesn't need it. But he's doing it for you, just like he is doing so many little and big things for you all the time. Anything for you, without you ever having to ask for it. Because he loves you.

It makes your heart feel so full.

You lean across the center console at the first red light, pressing another sweet kiss to Sukuna's cheek. But he turns his face so your lips end up on his. You feel his grin against your lips as his large hand captures your chin, cupping it firmly, holding you in place so he can deepen the kiss, licking into your mouth with a few playful flicks of his pierced tongue before he pulls away again.

You smile, your fingers tightening around Sukuna's hand, which is back in your lap,

"Thank you for picking me up, baby."

You see the corners of Sukuna's lips lift in a matching smile even while his gaze is fixed on the street before him, and his voice sounds playful but warm at the same time,

"You're welcome, princess. From now on, I'll pick you up every time you have a late shift. There's no way you're walking through dark alleys without me."

Protective boyfie Sukuna makes me SWOON aaaahhhh. Honestly, this gave me such a feeling of safety. In my old job, I had to do late shifts, too, and I was so scared walking down to the train station and waiting for my train because all those sinister-looking men were already starting to crawl out of their holes, and I felt very unsafe there. Protective boyfie Sukuna would have made me feel SO safe.

I hope this could give you comfort, too 💗💗 Thank you so much for reading!! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

[elflutter]

— i'll love you forever (a momma, you'll be)

kinktober 03 → ruts & breeding kink

in a rut!logan x f!reader

synopsis

You’d be lying if you said you haven’t been waiting for this day: Logan at his most fertile; you at yours. Even though you’ve talked about it, stopped your birth control for it, an an unspoken question still lingers in his gaze. You’re sure about this? You really want a baby with an old man like me?

wordcount: 2.7k | crossposted on ao3

tags/warnings below the cut!

tags/warnings: explicit (18+ mdni), worst wolverine, light a/b/o dynamics (ruts), breeding kink, daddy kink, light dom/sub, age gap (reader is 25+), logan calls himself old man, pet names (incl. sweetheart, baby, momma), unprotected p i v, creampie, fingering, mention of a safeword (not used), reader is ovulating, mentions of pregnancy, pussy pronouns (she/her), logan can pick up reader (but he can lift up to 800 lbs so), logan calls reader's pussy his, no use of y/n. i'm sure i've forgotten something, please let me know if i have!

a/n: idk what came over me with this one omfg. some of this filth was definitely influenced by some other amazing fics i've read this kinktober. the way you want to by @eupheme and baby fever by @silverskyeline come to mind specifically! please go give them some love if you enjoy this one, hehe. and thank you @sceletaflores for hyping up all my depraved ideas, ily

Your boyfriend’s mutation provides certain… perks to your relationship. Firstly, he’s strong enough to pick you up like you weigh less than nothing. And with the healing factor, his refractory period is practically non-existent. But, you think your favorite part of his mutation might be the one on display right now.

Logan’s pupils are blown wide the moment he walks through the door to your shared apartment. The front of his flannel is dark with sweat, a common sight after another long day at the construction job Wade helped secure for him a couple years back. But, from the bulge is already visible through worn jeans, you think all that sweat might be from something else, too. Something that sends electricity shooting down your spine, because you’ve been waiting for this.

Logan clicks the door shut, twisting the lock behind him without looking away from you, his stare heavy and heated. He pulls off his work boots like he cant rid himself of them fast enough, and you’re surprised the well broken-in leather doesn’t rip under his ironclad grip. The thought of that grip on your body, those fingers pressed into the plush of your thighs, has warmth pooling in your core— thick and sweet, like honey in your veins. Heavy and intoxicating, like the whiskey on his breath when you first met.

His biceps bulge beneath rolled-up sleeves as he reaches down to adjust his hard-on, and he prowls to where you sit on the couch, body twisted so you can keep your eyes on him. When Logan finally reaches you in the living room, you’re certain you’ve soaked through the lace of your panties. You straighten out your torso to face forward as he kneels in front of you, spreading your legs to accommodate his broad form.

His voice is as rough and dark as the denim of his work jeans when he finally speaks. His grip hard on your ass, just how you like it. Fingers dig into the thin fabric of your leggings as he pulls your body to the edge of the couch.

“Rut’s here, sugar.” He buries his nose against your hair, breathing in deep— the warm vanilla of your shampoo mixing with the heady scent of your arousal. He speaks into your hair, like he wants to bury himself there. “And I could fuckin’ smell you from the hallway. Drippin’ for me, huh?” He nuzzles in even deeper then, indulging.

You wait for his nose to pick it up— that you’re fertile. You should be, if you’re tracking correctly. You pray that you are. You think you must be ovulating, from the throbbing ache you’ve felt all day. Aching for Logan, for his thick girth to split you open, to be full of him. For that moment, as he empties within you, of soul-deep connection.

When Logan groans against you, the sound a broken thing, your racing heart kicks up a beat. He’s scented it; you’re certain. Logan pulls back, his large hands moving to cradle your face with a gentleness that sends a pang through your chest.

“Baby, are you—” He searches your eyes for an answer, as if he can peer into them and see your desires.

Even during these ruts, when his body burns with an ache only for you, to fuck and to fill, to claim, you call the shots. You tell him to stop, that it’s too much, and he will. He’s still Logan, always in control of himself. It’s not unlike how your sex drive changes, during your own cycle. And, shit, you’re weak for it. Always have been.

You’d be lying if you said you haven’t been waiting for this day: Logan at his most fertile; you at yours. Even though you’ve talked about it, stopped your birth control for it, an an unspoken question still lingers in his gaze.

You’re sure about this? You really want a baby with an old man like me?

You nod; the sting in your chest drowning out the ache in your core for a moment. One day, you hope, he’ll see that you want everything he could possibly give you.

“Yeah, baby. It’s time, I’m ovulating.” Leaning forward, you press your forehead against his, fingers moving to rub gentle circles in his hair. “Please, Lo. Want your baby.”

His lips crash into yours, then, before he’s scooping you up. You hook your feet behind his back as he carries you to the bed, peppering you with kisses and breathy murmurs in your ear.

“Alright, sweetheart, want me to fuck a baby into that sweet little cunt?” His teeth are on your earlobe, hot breath grazing each of his love-bites. You’ve melted into putty in his hands when he finally sets you down on the plush surface of the bed, mind a haze of lust and longing. “Gonna look so good with my baby in you, my little momma.”

Your cheeks grow hot, his words nestling through your mind and finding a home in the dull throbbing between your legs. His name escapes your lips in a needy whine. Before you can say anything else, he flips you onto your stomach. His grip finds your hips, pulling up until your ass is in the air right at the edge of the bed; face buried in the covers.

Logan’s hands move to cup the swell of your bottom as he stands behind you, humming in satisfaction.

“Such a pretty little present, comin’ home to her every day.” Your face heats as you realize he’s not talking to you, but your pussy. “She’s fucking drippin’ for me, isn’t that right?”

All you can manage is a nod and a pathetic whimper, words lost somewhere in the haze of desire.

His palms brush up your back, until he reaches out to grab one of your breasts, his other hand supporting his upper body as he leans over you until you feel his hot breath against your ear.

“Already cock drunk, Momma? Haven’t even touched you yet.”

“L- Logan, please—” you keen. You don’t even have the presence of mind to be embarrassed about your desperation. You feel so achingly empty— just need his cock in your pussy; his come deep and warm inside your womb. The pet-name plays in your mind on repeat. Momma. Momma. Momma.

The image of walking around in a few months, full with his child, and everyone will know who you belong to. Who did this to you. He’ll make you face the mirror above the dresser while he stuffs you full of his come, night after night, whispering how good you look now that he put a baby in you.

He doesn’t move his lips from where they brush against your ear. “Gonna unwrap my present now. Wanna see that pretty pussy. Know she needs some attention, doesn’t she?”

You nod desperately. Suddenly, he stands up straight again, and before you can even protest at the loss of his body heat pressed up against yours, you hear his claws unsheathe with a snikt.

The claws— another favorite aspect of your boyfriend’s mutation in bed. You never knew ruined clothes would get you so damn wet. But it triggers a primal satisfaction deep within you whenever Logan rips through your leggings, your panties, anything keeping the two of you apart. You’ve invested in owning several pairs of the same cheap leggings at any given time, so Logan doesn’t have to worry about replacing the garments he destroys.

He tugs his claws through your leggings and underwear until they lie in pieces beneath you on the bed, and you whine as the cold air of the room grazes where you throb for him. Logan would usually tease you until you were a sobbing mess beneath him, making you drip through the gusset of ruined panties, grinding against your clothed slit. Then, he would make you fall apart on his mouth, then on his fingers, then make you beg, before he’d finally sheathe himself within you.

You thank whatever higher power exists in the multiverse— you think you remember Wade mention someone called Marvel Jesus?— that Logan could only taunt you with one or two lewd comments before he is ripping at your clothes and stepping out of his jeans, shirt tossed aside, to line himself up at your weeping entrance.

Logan is still standing on the floor behind the bed while your ass is swaying in the air where he’s positioned you at the edge, begging for attention. When the fat head of his cock brushes against your puffy folds, heat blooms beneath each place he teases. You can’t help how your neglected cunt clenches around nothing; desperate for something— anything to ease the throbbing ache. Logan grinds his hardness against you— the tip rubbing at your clit has you keening before he slips two fingers into your slick heat.

Every sense is overwhelmed as you feel him enveloping you in his body— his cock teasing at your clit. His breath hot in your ear. One arm between your bodies, fingers curling deep inside. The other, resting on the bed beside your head. All you can feel is Logan, Logan, Logan, all over.

“Gotta get my pussy ready,” his words brush against the shell of your ear. “Ain’t that right, sweetheart?”

Your eyes scrunch shut, the image of how you’d look with Logan’s cock buried within you playing in the darkness of your vision— hips slamming into your ass. Balls making soft plap plap plaps as they slap against your swollen nub. Thinking of Logan, his body on fire with his need to claim you— to breed you. Filling you with his come until your womb is flooded with it. Imagining how you’ll grow plump with his child. You can’t be blamed for the lewd response slips out of you in response to his question.

“Yes, Daddy—” the last word is whined out before you can stop yourself. Cheeks heat, as you realize what you’ve called him. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought of it before. His fingers speed within you, curling against the little textured spot inside that Logan knows so well it’s like he owns it.

“Fuck, baby,” Logan pants, his hips grinding to match the pace of his hand. “You’re gonna make me a daddy. You want that, baby?”

His words are rough against your ear— letting out a little hum as you sink even deeper in the haze of pleasure, tension winding tight in your gut.

“Say it.”

The command in his voice sends a shiver down your spine.

Your own voice wobbles, sounding small and pathetic, as you eek out a response that is little more than a whine, “W-wanna make you a daddy!”

“Attagirl.”

A feral smile against your ear, as his possessive praise alights sparks within you. Somehow, Logan plunges his fingers even deeper, then. His hips never slow where they grind against your folds, cockhead notching against your clit just right, and suddenly that coiling tension releases with a snap.

Your climax hits you, legs quaking as warmth spreads out from your core, until you can feel it wash through your limbs. The fingers in your cunt work you through the pleasure, slowing as you pant against the bedsheets.

Standing tall behind you again, you don’t have time to mourn the loss of Logan’s fingers before he positions himself at your slit.

His voice, gentle, when he speaks before slipping inside. “Remember your word, darlin’?”

Your cheeks heat. He always asks that, when he’s about to fuck you into the mattress until you can’t remember your own name. He’s especially careful to remind you of it when he’s in a rut. You nod, telling him the word you can always say if it gets too much. Apple, and he’ll stop.

His palms cup your ass possessively, splaying his fingers wide to hold as much as he can. “You ready to be a momma?”

You nod your assent.

Logan clicks his tongue, and you can hear the smug smile in his voice. “Use your words for Daddy.”

His words are firm, smug, and for a moment you think he might be making fun of you. But you can tell he’s desperate in the way he pushes the tip of his cock inside you before you can respond. You never thought you’d hear Logan call himself daddy, and it turns you on way more than it should.

“Ready to be a momma, Lo, fuck,” you swear as his weeping head pushes past your puffy folds and into your swollen cunt.

It seems that your words snapped the last of his restraint, finally allowing his base urges to take over. For him to claim you how you’ve both ached for since he crossed the threshold into your shared apartment.

He pushes the rest of the way into you, hissing through his teeth as his hips finally meet the plush of your ass. When he starts thrusting, it’s a rough, feral thing. His fingers dig into your hips, pulling you back to meet him with every thrust. You’re a rag doll in his arms, ass up and on display, face buried as you moan into the sheets.

Logan looks down at you from where he stands, watching his thick length disappear into your tight little hole. When he speaks, his voice comes out in a growl. He can’t help it, with the image of you— fucked out and ruined beneath him. He plans to keep you in this bed, putting his sweet little pussy to use until he can be certain it took.

“Look so fuckin’ good like this, sugar. Lettin’ your old man fill your tight little hole. Gonna keep you full all night, gonna feel my come leakin’ out for days.”

All you can do is whine into the sheets, growing damp with drool as his hips pound against you in hungry thrusts.

“Y’want that, sweetpea? Want daddy’s come?”

Your answer is torn from your throat in a desperate sob.

“Yes!”

Logan’s grip shifts until he’s got one fist full of your tits and one palm flattened against your belly, pulling your body upright against his while he drives his cock up into your weeping cunt. He palms at your breasts, fingers ghosting across your nipples until both are hard and stinging. His grip pinches and soothes, and soon the palm against your stomach moves downward. Then he’s circling your clit, his cock finding that perfect spot inside your walls before plunging deeper until you can feel it brush against your cervix.

Each sensation washes over you, waves lapping against your toes at first. But the water rises higher, higher, higher until you’re drowning in pleasure, your orgasm pulling you under as you come on his cock. You can feel Logan’s words brush against your ear, as you come undone.

“Good fuckin’ girl, coming on your old man’s cock. Lettin’ me do what I need t’ya.” His words are a low snarl when he continues, thrusting harder and harder. “Daddy’s gonna fill you up real good now, gonna put a baby in this tight little pussy.”

You feel your lips form the word yes, over and over, and you think you must be chanting it like a prayer, as his hips snap into you. Logan’s pace grows frenzied as your walls flutter around him in the aftershock of your climax. Reckless, as he pounds into your puffy cunt, your slick leaking down his shaft onto his balls until he finally falls over the edge with a growl. You feel his cock pulse, impossibly deep, filling you with thick ropes of spend. His thrusts slow, but don’t stop, as he fucks his seed further into you.

Logan gingerly lowers the both of you to the bed. You sigh contentedly, finally laying flat on your stomach. Logan cants himself on his elbows above you, still plugged full of his cock.

You can’t help but giggle— he might be into the whole daddy thing even more than you. And that is saying a lot, because you are super into it.

“Lo, that was so fucking hot.”

He chuckles darkly, pulling out before he gathers up the come leaking out of your used cunt and pushes it back inside with his fingers.

“Hope ya don’t think I’m done with you for the night.” Your cheeks heat as you realize he’s growing hard again, his length resting against your ass cheek. “Not even close, bub.”

thank you so much for reading this! id you liked it, please leave a comment or an rb! i would love to hear what you thought!

lovely dividers by @saradika-graphics

[maysileeewrites]

HEAVENLY

Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!reader || 18+, mdni!

Synopsis: It’s this gentle glow, this steady and strong flame within him that you fell in love with, and continue to fall in love with every day. || Or: a glimpse into married life with Jacaerys.

content & warnings: fluff and smut, smut (piv, oral (f), hair pulling, slight praise kink if you squint), established relationship, arranged marriage, light banter, some tooth-rotting fluff as well

masterlist || word count: 3.9k

AN: yes I totally hopped on the Jace hype train, but my man’s just sooo dreamy. I also saw a post pointing out the similarities between him and Robb Stark, and now my love for Jace totally makes sense 😭😭 I loved writing this and I have sooo many ideas for other Jace fics (Robb as well but idk if anyone is still interested in that). Anyways, have fun reading :)

You wake up to warm sunlight streaming through the window, a gentle morning breeze blowing through the room, birds chirping somewhere in the distance. If you really concentrate, you can also hear the gentle lapping of waves against the shore, can smell a faint, salty breeze in the morning air.

You yawn, trying to stretch and to draw the blankets up a bit higher - only to find yourself unable to. 

Even fast asleep your husband is still curled around you, his head resting on the crook of your shoulder, his dark curls tickling your neck, his warm, even breaths ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck, causing you to shiver. His legs are still entangled with yours, and one of his hands is still splayed possessively over your stomach, the other resting on your waist. 

Your waist - where, if you were able to move and stretch, you’d surely see imprints of his fingers on your skin. 

You can’t help it - even just thinking of the previous night’s activities brings a furious blush to your cheeks. 

Jacaerys has always been an attentive lover, gentle yet passionate, and last night has been no different. 

You bite down hard on your lip, remembering.

The way he’d thrusted up into you while you were sitting in his lap, the fingers of his right hand digging into the skin of your waist, steadying you; while his other hand had been between your thighs, his thumb rubbing soothing circles onto your clit while you moved up and down on his cock. 

That had been your third orgasm of the night, and while you already felt overstimulated and exhausted at that point, Jacaerys had seemed to have made it his own personal mission to bring you to ecstasy at least four times that night. 

After he’d gotten you to your peak, he kissed you passionately, and then, without having finished himself, he lowered his face between your legs, coaxing your fourth orgasm from you. 

By that point, you were a quivering, panting mess. Jacaerys cradled your face lovingly, peppering your skin with gentle kisses. 

„You did so well for me, Princess“, he whispered, kissing the corner of your mouth. You smiled exhaustedly, reaching up your hands to wind them around his neck again, drawing him in for another kiss. He shifted, covering your body with his again and you could feel his painfully hard, throbbing length against your stomach, causing you to whine. And though your clit was still swollen and you could already feel a familiar feeling of soreness settling between your legs, there was a familiar heat pooling between your legs yet again. 

While he’d already driven you to your peak four times, Jacaerys had only finished twice, and you couldn’t have to that. So, removing one hand from his neck, you reached between your bodies, positioning his hard length between your legs.

„Princess, what-„, Jacaery‘s question was cut off by the loud, broken moan that left you when you felt him sliding back into you, filling you to the brim. 

„Fuck, Princess“, Jacaerys moaned, looking down at you. You could see the different emotions he was feeling warring on his face - there was that desire to stay gentle and tender and take care of your needs, but there was something else there as well, something darker, more primal, his own lust, a desire to finally find his pleasure.

And so, you tangled your hands in his hair, tugging and pulling at his dark curls the way you knew always drove him insane. 

„More, please“, was all you needed to moan, before Jace groaned, grabbing your legs and hitching them over his shoulder. The new angle allowed him to thrust even deeper and more intensely into you, and soon his thrusts were becoming more and more erratic. 

One of your hands moved to his back, nails digging into his skin, leaving a reminder of this moment. Just like his handprints on your waist. 

And the permanent imprint he’d left on your heart, the moment you made your vows to each other.

It didn’t take long for either of you to reach your peak.

Afterwards, Jacaerys scooped you up in his arms, leaving gentle kisses on your skin, his fingers stroking over your skin gently, his touch once again feather-light. 

You close your eyes, a small smile on your lips, as slow, gentle kisses on your neck bring you back to the present moment. 

„Morning, Princess“, Jacaerys says, his voice still thick with sleep. 

„You’re tense …“, he comments only a moment later, his hand leaving your waist and reaching up to intertwine with yours. 

You feel a blush creep up on your cheeks, which is ridiculous, considering everything that happened last night. Or the night before. 

Or the night before that. 

Any night since you and Jacaerys have been married, really. It’s only been a few months, but still - you always find yourself looking forward to the nights. And the mornings, and sometimes, if you find the time for it, the afternoons as well. 

Before, when you were younger, you’d never imagined that marriage could be like this. You’d heard the stories whispered between some of the older maids, had seen the cold, distant way your parents always interacted with each other. 

And so, when your parents first told you of your betrothal to Jacaerys Velaryon - the first child and heir of Princess Rhaenyra, a rumored bastard- just a few weeks after your eleventh name day, you’d been terrified. 

You were even more terrified when you first met your betrothed two years later, on the feast that was thrown in honor of your thirteenth name day. 

Later, after you were married, Jace had confessed to you that he’d initially thought that you hated him, because you almost didn’t speak to him for the entire evening. Which was true, but you also told Jace that back then, you’d simply been terrified, anxious. Shy and nervous and about to crack under the pressure your parents had put on you, telling you that it was imperative that you left a perfect impression on the royal family. 

You’d slipped away from the festivities the first chance you got, after an incredibly awkward dance with Jacaerys. You were so caught up in your own thoughts that you didn’t even notice the young prince following you, until he made his presence known. 

„I’m sorry, I know I’m a terrible dancer-“

A loud shriek escaped you and you turned around to face him. There he was, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, looking at you uncertainly and with a tender shyness on his expression. 

„I’m sorry,  I didn’t mean to frighten you - I - I only wanted to make sure that you were alright …“ 

You nodded slowly, tucking a stray strand of hair that had escaped your hairdo behind your ear. 

This conversation wasn’t what you’d been expecting, not at all. You certainly hadn’t counted on him even noticing that something was wrong, yet alone following you to make sure that you were alright. Earlier that day and night, conversation between you two had been stiff and awkward, with neither of you quite knowing what to say to each other, and always someone from either of your families lurking around in the background. 

But this was different and this was the moment you slowly started to realize that maybe Jacaerys Velaroyn wasn’t all that bad. 

So, you found yourself taking a tentative step towards him. „I - I am now, I - thank you, Your Grace.“ 

„Jacaerys - it’s Jace, if you like“, he corrected you gently, also taking a tentative step towards you, before holding out his hand. „Friends?“ 

You nodded, feeling a small smile tug at the corners of your lips. „Friends.“ 

You and Jacaerys hadn’t seen much of each other after your name day celebrations, but only a few days later, you received the first raven he ever sent you. 

Since then, you two had been writing to each other constantly, sometimes sending three or even more ravens during a fortnight. And though you only continued to see him for very few occasions - his or your nameday celebrations, the royal wedding of Prince Aegon and his sister Helaena, the Queen Rhaenyra’s coronation -, you found yourself looking forward to these occasions more and more. He was your best friend, and with the years passing, the space he occupied in your heart only grew more and more. 

And so, when a few weeks after your eighteenth nameday, your wedding was finally held, it was entirely different than what you’d been imagining it to be as a little child. 

You weren’t afraid or terrified, not in the slightest. No, you were excited and happy, and if Jace is to be believed, you were glowing with joy the whole day through. 

„Princess?“, Jacaery’s voice, now sounding concerned, draws you out of your thoughts yet again, and so you turn around, until you’re facing him. 

You squeeze his hand, reaching up with your other hand to touch his cheek, unable to fight the warm smile tugging at the corner of your lips. 

Jacaerys returns your smile and you feel your heart skip a beat. When Jace smiles, really smiles, it’s as if his whole face is lightning up. There’s a gentle glow in his warm brown eyes, calming and reassuring.

It’s this gentle glow, this steady and strong flame in him that you fell in love with, and continue to fall in love with every day. 

„What’re you thinking about, love?“, Jace asks you, his hand squeezing yours, his other hand leaving your waist and reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

You smile, leaning into his touch. You don’t answer his question, not with words, at least. Instead, you just lean forward, gently pressing your lips to his, hoping to convey all the emotions you’re currently feeling through your kiss. 

It seems to be working, because when you break apart a moment later, there’s a soft smile on Jacaerys’ lips and that warm glow in his eyes.

„I love you“, you say, before reaching for him again, connecting your lips again. He sighs, shifting, until his arm is at your waist again. Your hands find their way to his neck, one hand tugging at the curls at his nape. 

For a while, the kiss stays tender and slow and loving. But then you shift, trying to find a position that’s a bit more comfortable for you, completely forgetting that your legs are still entangled with Jacaerys’. You end up drawing him even closer to you, until there’s no space left between you two, his body covering your own. 

His grip on your waist tightens and he uses his other hand to support himself, drawing himself up a bit as to not crush you completely under his weight. This new position allows Jace to bunch up the fabric of your nightgown, slipping his fingers under the thin fabric, until his fingertips are stroking over the bare skin of your waist. 

You sigh contentedly, locking your legs around his waist - and pause, wincing. What before was only a slight feeling of discomfort has now turned into an intense, unpleasant burning between your legs. You feel incredibly sore and you can only imagine how hard it will be today, walking around with this unpleasant soreness between your legs, trying not to wince at every step. 

„Princess?“, Jace who’s noticed that something’s wrong, asks you, concern lacing his voice. His warm brown eyes find yours and in them you see his worry and concern for you. 

You shake your head, trying to smile. „It’s nothing��, you say, trying to wave away his concern. 

„No“, Jace says, shaking his head. His hand leaves your waist, gently cradling your cheek instead. „No, I know it’s not nothing, love.“ 

You sigh. „Well, it’s nothing important.“ 

„Princes“, Jace says, his gaze still holding yours, „please - you can tell me.“ 

You close your eyes briefly, trying to fight of the blush that’s threatening to creep onto your cheeks. Really, all things considered, it’s so stupid to be embarrassed to admit to something like this, when you’ve already shared so much with your husband. 

You sigh, opening your eyes again, finding Jace still looking at you with worry in his expression. „It’s nothing, really, I - I’m just - I’m just a bit sore after last night …“, you say, feeling your cheeks blush a furious red. Great, now you probably look like an overly ripe tomato. 

As if that weren’t already bad enough, Jacaerys’ puzzled expression really has you wishing to die from embarrassment, if only for a short moment. 

„Oh - oh …“, Jacaerys says, a bit sheepishly, his hand leaving your waist, drawing himself up, but you stop him by reaching out a hand and touching his forearm. 

„Jace, it’s fine, really-“

„I didn’t - I didn’t mean to hurt you“, he says, genuine concern in his voice. 

You squeeze his shoulder. „Jace, you didn’t hurt me.“ 

„But-“

„Jace, this happens. It’s normal, really.“ 

„Wait, do you mean - is it always like this for you?“ 

You shake your head. „Not always … last night was - intense …“ 

You don’t even know how that’s possible, but your cheeks seem to be getting even hotter. But when you look up at Jacaerys, you see his cheeks growing rather pink as well, and somehow, that brings a small smile to your lips. 

„I didn’t mean to - I’m sorry, I - is there anything I can do to make it better for you?“, Jace asks you, fingertips softly stroking the skin of your cheek. 

„I-“, you start to say, at the same moment that Jace says: „I have an idea.“ 

You laugh quietly and you’re relieved when you see a shy smile on his lips as well. 

„I - will you let me - do you trust me?“, Jace asks you and you smile. 

„Always.“ 

Jace nods, returning your smile. „Good. Lie back, try to relax. And do tell me if something I do is hurting you at all, please?“ 

You nod, lying back down on the sheets. Jace watches you with a small smile on his face. Then, he lifts himself off of you, and you almost protest when you don’t feel the reassuring weight of his body anymore, but as if he’s sensed the direction of your thoughts, his lips find yours again in a featherlight, tender kiss. 

The kiss is soft and sweet, and for a moment, you find yourself thinking that it’s almost a bit too innocent and gentle, but then Jace slowly deepens the kiss and one of his hands moves to your collarbone, the touch of his fingertips featherlight on your skin. 

As the kiss turns deeper and more sensual, his tongue coaxing your mouth open, his fingertips start exploring your skin, slowly, but surely moving downwards. 

Your collarbone. 

Your sternum. His fingertips stay there for a moment, drawing circles on your skin and you find your heart beating faster in anticipation. Then, as Jace breaks the kiss, only to attach his lips to the spot on your neck that he know always drives you nearly insane, his fingertips finally move lower to the valley between your breasts. 

Your breath hitches and you swear that you can feel Jacaerys smirking. He can be such a tease-

Then, the fabric of your nightgown is shoved aside rather unceremoniously. You shudder, because at the same moment that Jace’s fingertips move to your breasts, cupping the tender skin, his lips start suckling at the spot on your neck and then you can feel his teeth lightly graze over your skin and you’re sure that he’s going to leave a mark, a purple love bite that will be hard to cover up and conceal - joining two other ones that are slowly starting to fade - but you find that you don’t care, not at all. 

All that you can think about is that you want, no need, more. More of Jacaerys. More of his hands and lips on your skin, more of that blissful tension. 

„Jace, please“, you say, your voice breathless. His lips leave your neck then and he looks up at you, desire clear and tangible in his gaze. 

A look passes between you and Jacaerys seems to understand exactly what you need without you having to say a single word. His hands leave your waist and breasts briefly, to take off your nightgown. 

Now, you’re completely bare before him, while he’s still in one of the soft linen shift he always wears in bed. 

„Gods, you’re so beautiful“, he whispers, awe and adoration in his voice. 

Then, he leans in towards you again and you think that he’s going to kiss you, but instead, his head moves between your breasts and he takes one of your nipples in his mouth, while his left hand starts playing with the nipple of your other breast. 

You moan, squirming. 

At that, Jace looks up at you, mouth still attached to your breast and you can’t help but let out another loud moan. You’re so dizzy and driven by desire that you only notice Jace’s other hand start to move lower, when you feel his fingertips lightly brushing over your core. 

„Jace, oh gods-“ Your voice is breathy and full of want, and once again Jace gives you exactly what you need, his fingertips moving lightly over your core, his other hand playing with your breasts, as his lips continue to move lower and lower and lower. 

He leaves soft, featherlight kisses on your breasts, your stomach, the inner sides of your thighs. Your breath hitches and you feel your heart beat faster and faster as Jace peppers more and more kisses, moving closer and closer to where you really need to feel him. 

There’s a burning ache beside you, a fire and his touches are stoking its flames. Feeling his fingertips move lightly over your core isn’t enough, you need more, you need to really, truly feel him. 

Your hands move on their own accord, coming to settle in his dark curls, softly tugging at his hair to get his attention. 

Jace looks up at you then, his dark brown eyes slightly glassy. His lips are red and swollen and his cheeks are red, but he still looks absolutely angelic. Heavenly. 

„Jace, please“, you breathe, you voice shaky and barely more than a whisper. 

You think you see him smirk at your words, but then you can’t think straight anymore, because he lowers his head again and then his lips are right there where you so desperately crave them. His hand has moved and he’s now pressing his thumb against your bundle of nerves, steadily applying pressure while leaves soft, featherlight kisses on your core. 

He’s teasing you again, something he really, really likes to do. And though normally you enjoy him teasing you quite a bit, right now, you’re desperate. And so, you tug at his curls just a bit more stronger, trying to convey your desperate needs to him that way. 

At first, you think that he’s just going to continue teasing you, but then, suddenly, you feel his tongue licking over your slit, before delving between your folds. 

Your unconsciously tighten your grip on his hair, squirming, panting. 

It just feels so good, too good. Jace’s tongue continuing to delve between your folds, nearing that sweet spot that always has your vision go hazy, his thumb continuing to press against your bundle of nerves, his other hand still between your breasts, alternating between rolling your nipples between his fingers and roaming over your tender skin. 

You’re panting now, quivering and moaning, tugging at Jace’s dark curls with abandon. Dimly, you worry about tugging too hard, maybe even hurting him, but the quiet, satisfied noises that leave him tell you a different story. And so, you don’t loosen your grip, steadying yourself with your hands in his hair. 

Then his tongue reaches that sweet spot inside you that has your vision go hazy and you moan loudly. 

Two of his fingers enter you as well then, and he keeps finding that sweet spot repeatedly with his tongue, all the while circling his fingers and keeping pressure on your bundle of nerves with his tongue. 

You’re getting closer, you can feel it. The fire in your is building and building and building. One of your hands leaves his hair, blindly reaching for Jace’s free hands. He meets you halfway, lacing your fingers together and squeezing your hand. Steadying you. 

„Jace, oh gods, I-“, you moan, panting and quivering as Jace’s tongue and fingers continue to move in and out of you. His pace gets faster, the pressure a bit more intense and then, fire consumes you. 

You moan his name loudly, your back arching off the bed. 

An intense, dizzying wave of pleasure crashes over you, threatening to drown you. 

Jacaerys guides you along through it all, taking everything you give him - the desperate tug on his curls, the harsh squeeze of his hand, your legs pressing closer. 

He takes it, takes everything. Your pleasure is his, and his is yours. 

You burn, together. 

You squeeze your eyes shot, drowning in this intense pleasure, breath heavy and panting. 

After a few moments, your breathing has returned to normal, and you blindly reach for Jacaerys, drawing him up towards you. Your hands wind around his neck, and you draw him in for a kiss. It’s messy, a bit of your slick still connected to his lips and you can still taste yourself on his lips, but you don’t care. 

You try to convey everything you feel through your kiss, but it’s not enough and so you break away, still panting heavily. „I love you - gods, I love you so much.“

There’s that glow in Jace’s eyes again and you move one of your hands to cup his cheek. „I love you, Jacaerys Velaryon“, you say, before connecting your lips to his again. 

This kiss is slow and tender, and not rushed at all, instead full of emotion. 

When he breaks away, Jace rests his forehead against yours, his warm breath ghosting over your skin. „I love you, Princess.“ 

You smile, kissing him once again, before snuggling up next to him, resting your head on the crook of his shoulder. He reaches out one arm, splaying it over your stomach, drawing you closer. 

It only occurs to you then, lying so close to him. You look up at him. „What about you, Jace?“ 

He frowns slightly. „What?“ 

You feel yourself blushing. „Do you want me to-“

„No“, he quickly rushes to interrupt you. When he notices your confused expression, one of his hands finds yours, squeezing it. „It’s not that I don’t want to - I do, really, just … I wanted to make you feel good. And besides … I - I … I uh … I already finished …“ The last part is said so quietly that you almost don’t understand it. But then you notice his cheeks growing rather pink and you smile fondly, squeezing his hand. 

You leave a soft kiss on his shoulder, before sitting up, supporting your weight on your elbow. With your free hand, you reach for his face, tucking a stray curl back behind his ear, before leaning in to kiss him again. 

„I love you, Jace.“ 

He smiles, resting his forehead against yours. 

„I love you, Princess.“ 

Thank you so much for reading! <3 my requests for Jace are currently open 🤭

[natti-ice]

His Onlyfans Girl- Eddie Munson.

Pairing: bestfriendsdad!Eddie Munson x onlyfansgirl!fem!reader

Summary: your best friend’s father becomes one of your subscribers on onlyfans, when you confront him about it things get a little heated. (3.7k words)

Warnings: 18+ mdni, modern AU! age gap (Eddie is late 40’s, reader is in her 20’s), masturbation, pornography, confrontation, slut shaming, arguing, oral (f receiving), p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex, hair pulling, creampie.

Author’s note: this is a continuation of this post!

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

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When he heard about this "onlyfans" thing he rolled his eyes and brushed it off thinking it was just another porn site. He normally sticks to what he likes and what he knows is reliable, but he kept seeing things online about onlyfans and wanted to see what all the hype was about.

He scrolled down the main page and saw all the random women posing in scandal clad clothes, pretty faces that he'd forget in five seconds once he scrolled past. All of the accounts were locked because he had to subscribe to them and he didn't see a reason to pay for porn when he could get it for free. He scrolled and scrolled until something jumped out at him, your page. He couldn't believe it, you and his daughter had been friends for a long time and he had no idea you were doing these things on the internet.

He immediately kept scrolling and tried to pretend he didn't see that...but part of him was curious. He sighed and scrolled back up and clicked on your account. He knew it was wrong in every sense of the word but fuck, he couldn't look away. He couldn't see anything at all because he wasn't subscribed to your page, he had a strong feeling in his body and he knew exactly what it was. Desire.

His mind raced with a million reasons why he shouldn't do it but his urges were just too strong, he caved and put in his credit card information and subscribed to your onlyfans. His eyes lit up when he saw all of your photos and videos, he knew he would regret this in the morning but he didn't give a fuck. He needed to get off, get off looking at your body.

He could feel his heart pounding out of his chest as he saw you laid out before him on his screen, he always thought you were attractive but this was a whole other level. He could hardly blink because he was afraid he would miss a detail of your body, you were perfect to him, your body was like it had been crafted by god himself just for Eddie to admire. His hand found its way into his boxers as he memorized every line of your figure, the curve of your breasts, the shape of your hips and how they lead perfectly to your pussy.

He started to stroke himself faster as he clicked one of your solo masturbation videos, he breathing became more labored the faster he pumped his cock, he couldn't tear his eyes off of dildo that stretched you out. He wished that was him, that he was your toy, he wanted nothing more than to be the one to bring you pleasure. "Fuck" he whispers under his breath as he feels his orgasm nearing rapidly, he works himself faster until he finally released all over his hand. He falls back into his pillow, he pants hard as he desperately tries to fill his lungs with air, when he comes to his senses he realizes what he had done.

He quickly clears away the website, he deletes his search history praying that no one will ever find out about his taboo acts tonight...especially not his daughter. Guilt and slight paranoia sets in as he thinks about the consequences he would face if she found out, he knew this would hurt her and that was the last thing he would ever want to do, he cursed himself for being so weak and giving into his desires. He took a deep breath and tried to erase you from his mind as he wiped himself clean with a tissue and laid his head down to rest, he closes his eyes and very slowly drifts off to sleep. His dreams were plagued with the images of your body, making for a very restless night.

-

The next morning you woke up to the sun beaming through the curtains filling the room up with a warm light, it was just like every other morning, you allowed your eyes to focus and adjust to the brightness before reaching over and grabbing your phone off the nightstand. You unlock your phone and do your daily check of social media, you scroll through different timelines on various apps to catch up on any news you missed while you slept. When you've had your fair share of meme consumption you take a trip over to your onlyfans account, when you started it a few months ago it was just as a little way to make some extra cash apart from your regular 9-5, but you soon started to gain a following and it became your biggest source of income. You didn't find anything wrong with what you were doing, everyone needs to get by somehow plus you had a lot of fun making your videos, not to mention the positive attention really boosted your confidence.

You scroll through your new notifications, you read all of the comments and saw who liked your posts, you checked out the accounts that had just subscribed to your page most of which go by pseudonyms to remain anonymous. Everything seemed normal until you saw it... "Ed Munson" had subscribed to your onlyfans. Your heart sunk to your stomach and you immediately sat up in bed, you couldn't believe what you were seeing, was this really him? You frantically clicked on the account to find anything to prove it wasn't him, but you were met with a blank page, no profile picture, no bio, absolutely nothing.

Your hands started to shake with nerves as thousands of questions run through your head, maybe it was someone else? If it is him, why did he subscribe to your account? Oh god, what if she finds out? How many Ed Munsons could there be You couldn't believe this for a second, you had known Ed since you were eighteen that's when you first became friends with his daughter, you and her met in a college math class and instantly clicked. You would go over to their place to hang out and he was always kind to you whenever you spoke, but he always kept things brief because he didn't want either of you to feel like he was barging in on your fun. Never once did he ever show that he was interested in you sexually or try to make any advances on you, he was a respectable man and a man that you could trust, but this, this threw you for a loop.

You got out of bed and tried to forget about what you saw, it really couldn't have been him... at least that's what you tried to convince yourself of. You went through your normal morning routine because you had to be at work in an hour but all you could think about was this situation, you were very open with her about your onlyfans and its content but this would crush her. You swore to yourself that you wouldn't let her know about her father paying to see your explicit content, you felt so bad just thinking about how this could affect your friendship, and losing her was something you couldn't afford.

Once you finished getting dressed you grabbed all of your stuff and headed out the door, you got into your car and started it, as you waited for it to warm up you tried to think of a way to make this situation better. You knew it was probably best to leave it alone and pretend it didn't happen but something in you was dying to know just why he decided to subscribe to your account when there are thousands to choose from. Despite your better judgment, you couldn't handle the not knowing part and decided to go straight to the source, you pulled out of your driveway and set off to the Munson residence. Your heart raced as you got closer to the house, there was still a possibility that it wasn't even him and if it wasn't then this already awkward situation would become even worse.

Your hands start to sweat as you grip the steering wheel tightly, you're so anxious about what will come of this, whatever it is can't be good. You pull into the Munson's driveway and shut off the engine, you stare at the front door through the windshield for what feels like an eternity before unbuckling your seat belt and stepping out of your car. You take a deep breath and rehearse what you're going to say to him in your head as you walk up the pavement that leads to the door, you raise a shake hand to the polished wood and knock three times.

-

Eddie was in the kitchen sipping his morning coffee when he heard the knock, he wondered who could be popping in so early, he let out a sigh as he sets him mug down and heads to the front door. You hear the click of the lock being turned before it was opened revealing the man you were looking for. When he saw you his heart immediately fell to his stomach and images of the night before rushed to the front of his mind, he thought he was dreaming because you were the last person he expected to see this morning.

He quickly composes himself and speaks as nonchalantly as possible "Oh uh hey, Y/N, what are you doing here? She left for class an hour ago-"

You take in his appearance, he definitely had just rolled out of bed because he was still in his pajamas and his hair was a bit messy. His smile lines were deep, showing his older age and years of laughter and joy he must've experienced, you could tell he also hadn't shaved in a few days by the salt and pepper stubble on his face. He wasn't an ugly man by any means, in fact, you'd known him to have a few girlfriends over the couple of years you'd known him. His daughter told you he never wanted to get married because being held down to one person just wasn't his style, you never said anything about it but often wondered if he was very lonely.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Munson, I'm not here for her," you start and immediately feel your mouth become dry with nerves as you realize what you're about to accuse him of. "I need to talk to you."

Shit, she knows he thought to himself, he knew he would get caught at some point but not this soon, he nods slightly and steps to the side allowing you access to his home "Please, come in." The tension in the air was so thick you could almost grab it with your hands, you walk into the door and step into the medium-sized living room that was furnished with a couch, recliner, and a flatscreen mounted to the wall. You walked over and took a seat on the suede sofa and he follows behind you taking a seat next to you but keeping a respectable distance. You could hear your heart beating as you fidget with your fingers working up the courage to speak up "So, Mr. Munson-"

"Please, call me Eddie" he cuts you off

You look up at him, his big brown eyes staring back into yours, "Eddie... do you know what I do for work?" You ask him while trying to find any sign of discomfort in his expression

fuck. "You work in retail don't you?" He replies referring to your normal day job

You sigh softly, he's gonna make you say it, "Well, yes I do but-" you pause and look down at your hands, you couldn't look at him when you said this "But... I also do onlyfans."

"Oh" he blurts out, he didn't expect you to be so straightforward about it "I- I've heard about that before... I didn't know you did that sorta thing." He lied through his teeth, his palms started to sweat and he awkwardly wiped them on his pajama pants.

You look up at him and see the blush in his cheeks had become more prominent, you tried so hard to not show your emotions on your face as he lied straight to your face but you couldn't help but grimace "Right." You say flatly "Well this is awkward but... I know you subscribed to my page" You said it. You actually said it. The words hung in the air for a moment before he spoke

"What? I wouldn't do-" he starts to protest but you cut him off

"Please, don't lie to me. It'll just make things worse"

You can see the gears turning in his head as he debates on coming clean, he knows it's the right thing to do but fuck, it was so difficult.

He sighs, he had been caught. "Okay, yes I did subscribe but I- I can explain" he knew he couldn't but he was gonna try his best. "You see, I went on the website and I was looking at all the different models and uh, I subscribed to a page and didn't realize it was you till afterwards" he didn't sound too convinced himself and by the look on your face he knew you weren't buying it. He swallows the spit that was starting to fill his mouth "I'm sorry... I hope you can forgive me"

"Look I don't want to pry into your personal life or anything but I really can't have you looking at my pictures...what if she finds out?"

Something about the mention of his daughter puts him in defense mode, he straightens his posture slightly and speaks in a lower deep voice "What I do in my private time has nothing to do with my daughter. It's none of her business."

You're taken aback by his shortness with you, you've never seen this side of him before "Are you serious? If she finds out about this it would crush her, I'm not gonna have you ruin my friendship just because you're a pervert." You realize what you just said but it was too late, you didn't mean it, well you didn't mean to say it out loud. There were just so many emotions running through you, you couldn't stop yourself.

He scoffs "Excuse me? Young lady I'm no pervert," he crosses his arms in front of his broad chest "I'm not the one selling naked pictures online."

Your mouth drops open slightly, you couldn't believe what he just said to you, but you weren't going to hold back now. "Oh, I bet you didn't have a problem with it when you were getting off to me last night" Your tone was full of sass and was also slightly raised, he was starting to piss you off with his lack of concern so you decided to test him "what if I told her, huh? What if I spilled your dirty little secret?"

His heart sunk, and his anger level began rising at your proposal, he wouldn't let you do that to him...his daughter means everything to him and he wasn't going to let one mistake ruin their relationship. "Don't fucking threaten me, I told you she doesn't need to know anything. I don't need a little slut like you trying to ruin my life, now if you will, get out of my house." He stands up abruptly and grabs you by the arm pulling you up and dragging you towards the door. You try to pull your arm away from his grasp but he doesn't let you go, you plant your feet as best as you can on the linoleum making it harder for him to pull you.

"I'm not going anywhere, we're not done talking about this" you protest

"Well I am." He says with finality "Matter fact, I don't want you to hang around my daughter anymore, clearly, you aren't the sweet innocent girl I thought you were."

This angered you, he had no right to dictate who you could be friends with, his daughter is an adult and he's acting like you're going to corrupt his precious Angel. Before you could think you brought your hand up to slap him but he caught you by the wrist and pulled you into his chest, he looked down at you, rage filling his eyes as he whispered harshly "Don't you dare." Your knees almost gave out on you by the sheer force of his movement, you were so close to his face you could smell the coffee that lingered on his breath. This awoke something in you, something that you knew would bring you nothing but trouble, but oh, would it be worth it. Your eyes flicker down to his lips then back to his eyes before slowly leaning in, Eddie stands still and doesn't move a muscle as he watches you lean in. You gently brush your lips against his, giving him an out in case he didn't want this but he doesn't put up any resistance, you connect your lips together in what starts as a soft kiss but quickly escalates.

His hands grip your waist tightly as he slides his tongue into your mouth, he slowly guides you back to the couch and lays you down before climbing on top of you. You knew this was wrong, he's your best friend's father for Christ's sake, but you knew you couldn't stop this from happening...you needed it to happen. He slips off your shoes leaving you in your socks, you moan softly into the kiss as you feel his hands unbuttoning your pants, the thought of him seeing you naked made you wet, he pulls down your pants and your panties at the same time exposing your lower half. He breaks away from the kiss and sits up a little, he grabs your legs and spreads them apart. "Fuck," he mutters as he takes in the sight of your glistening pussy "It's even better than the photos."

He dips his head between your thighs and begins to feast on your sensitive flesh, you let out a moan as his tongue flicks your clit softly, the prickling of his stubble against your skin sends a shiver down your spine as the pleasure builds within you. "Oh god," you say breathlessly as you feel your orgasm coming, his hands tighten their grip on your thighs and he looks deep into your eyes as he continues his relentless assault on your folds. Your fingers tangle in his hair and you gently rub yourself against his tongue as you go over the edge, your body trembles beneath his touch, and your pitiful whimpers fill the living room as you ride out your high. When he feels you've had enough he comes up for air, he takes a few breaths before attaching his lips to yours once again.

Your taste on his lips is intoxicating, the severity of this entire situation has heightened all of your senses making all of this even more pleasurable for you, you would regret this for the rest of your life but who cares right now? You're about to get fucked. Eddie pulled down his pajama pants revealing his hard, throbbing cock, he strokes it a few times before whispering huskily against your mouth "Get on all fours." You nod and flip over, you rest your forearms on the arm of the couch and arch your back to give him better access, he grabs hold of your hip with one hand and uses the other to guide his dick to your entrance.

He slowly slips himself into your tight hole, you let out a shaky gasp as his thickness stretches you out, he groans as he slowly starts to buck his hips "So fucking tight, baby" he picks up speed slowly before giving it his all, you can't hold back anything as he fucks you hard, all of your moans and whines fly from your mouth without a care. Eddie wraps his fingers around your hair and yanks you back to him making you arch your back even more as you turn your head to look at him. "How's this cock feel?" You could hear all of his lust for you in those words over the sound of slapping skin" Better than that fucking toy huh?" He asks rhetorically before releasing your hair and pounding into you even harder.

As you feel all of your limbs shake as he pleasure you, you hear him say all sorts of dirty things out loud like "Should post this for your fans" and "You take cock so well", you don't have the will to reply because your brain can't form any coherent thoughts. Your heart was racing a mile a minute after your third orgasm, Eddie's groans became louder and his breathing much heavier as he was about to cum, "s-shit" he stuttered out, his hips bucking hard against your ass as he unleashed his seed into you. He loosens his grip on your hips and slowly pulls out of you leaving a trail of his cum to drip on the couch, he slumps back onto the couch and pants hard, he wipes some sweat off his forehead before looking over at you as you flip back over.

It was like he came back to his senses immediately after he came, his eyes widened before he buried his face into his hands "fuck- what have I done?" you could hear his muffled voice cry out, he fucked up big time and there's nothing to do to change it. He sighs and looks up but he averts your gaze, "Not a word about this to anyone, agreed?"

You swallow hard before nodding, "Agreed." You felt terrible about what just happened. "I- I'm sorry about this." You apologize weakly

"Don't be," his voice was calming but still raspy from the sex "It's not all your fault. We'll pretend this never happened."

You reach for your pants and try to put them on as quickly as possible, fuck you think as you remember you have work and you're now an hour late, "I've gotta get going" you say as you stand up and quickly button up your pants and slip on your shoes and stand up, you look down at him laid out on the couch. "I'll see you later?"

He looks up at you, clearly debating what to say, he sighs before saying, "Yeah, see you later."

You give him a final nod before quickly walking towards the door.

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Tags: + everyone who asked for a part 2!

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[daechwitatamic]

cherrybomb || csc

(banner by @sailorrhansol)

cherrybomb seungcheol x afab reader || angst smut fluff || exes2lovers, pacific rim universe NSFW - minors DNI

Summary: Piloting a jaeger requires a rare ability called drifting - a neural connection with your co-pilot. You and Seungcheol are masters of the drift... until you have something in your head that you don't want him to see.

wc: 19.5k

warnings: language, heavy angst with happy ending, fight scenes, fight scenes written by an author with zero fighting or martial arts knowledge lmfao thus they are vague as possible, feelings heavy plot light and smut light, kissing and pretty generic (and brief) p in v smut

Author's note: thank you for @sailorrhansol for 1) accidentally sparking this idea, 2) agreeing to collab with me, 3) reading this along the way and hyping me up, and 4) beta-ing my mistakes, a million smooches for you ily

This fic takes place in the Pacific Rim universe but I honestly don't think you need to know the lore, everything you need to know should be explained. If you think something is unclear without prior pacific rim knowledge, shoot me a message privately and I'll make some edits and credit you for the insight!

Also in this universe: storm breaker by @/sailorhansol

Teaser:

“Marshall, with all due respect, I don’t know why you’re calling me,” you admit. “You were there. You saw what happened. Seungcheol and I can’t drift anymore.”

“You couldn’t then,” he points out. “That was three years ago. Things that were once too painful to carry into the drift… they’ve had time to mellow.”

He’s wrong, and you want to tell him so. Nothing has mellowed. You love Seungcheol just as much today as you did then.

“Have you talked to him about this?” You’re afraid of the answer. 

The Marshall’s voice hardens, and you can just picture his eyes narrowing. “Mr. Choi will follow orders,” he says evenly, “and so will you. Asking is really just a courtesy.”

“You can’t order us into being able to drift again,” you snap, pulse suddenly pounding in your arms, your hands, your face, your chest. 

“No,” the Marshall says, and any previous friendliness is gone from his voice now, “but I can - and will - order you to try.”

Playlist: you're the smoke in my gun, blowin' like cherry bombs...

The first time you ever saw Choi Seungcheol, he was flipping a man four years his senior over his shoulder and slamming him into the ground. Satisfied, he staggered backwards, chest heaving from exertion, eyes narrowed in preparation for the next move.

That’s what Seungcheol did - he leveled whatever was in front of him, and he started watching for what was coming next before the body could even hit the ground.

That’s what made him a great jaeger pilot. Not the brute strength - strong men are dime a dozen, always have been - but the watching.

You’d marked him as your first choice.

You were both nineteen. You’d grown up in the Shatterdome, the only child to a couple who piloted a neon green jaeger named Charron’s Revenge. You knew everything about how jaegers and their teams worked by the time you were nine. You started training to fight years before that. There was never a question that you would follow in your parents’ giant, mechanical footsteps one day. You just needed the right partner.

You needed Seungcheol.

The jaeger program didn’t turn away recruits - everyone could do something - but there was an organized process to match up compatible pilots. Applying recruits would fight before an audience of previously-accepted but currently-unmatched potential pilots. The pilots would rank the fighters, choosing their top five based on perceived potential for compatibility.

Then, the roles would switch. The applicants became the audience. The audience became the show.

When it was your turn to fight, you silently pleaded with the universe that Seungcheol would mark you high as well. This was the only guarantee that you’d get a chance to spar with him, to test it out before the Marshall, who would make the final call.

Let him see, you begged. Let him see how perfectly we’d work together.

And, by some miracle, he did. In fact, he rated you first, as well.

Your sparring match went exactly how you expected - he barreled at you, and you dodged every move. He could easily take you out with a single blow, but he couldn’t get his hands on you, not when you used his own inertia against him at every turn. What you didn’t expect was your own inability to land a shot. For the whole fight, you were unable to move out of the defensive - keeping out of his reach took all of your effort.

It was a draw - the first sign of strong compatibility.

You didn’t talk after the match - your father whisked you away to recover before your second-rated match, and you didn’t see Seungcheol for the rest of the day.

The second-rated match was a dud. But you already knew, even then, that it didn’t matter.

You’d met your co-pilot. You’d found your partner.

—

He found you in the mess hall that night, dropping into an empty spot on the other side of the table, his tray in his hands. His black hair was loose and wavy, and his right arm sported a sizeable bruise that he definitely didn’t get from you.

“I know who you are,” he said by way of greeting. You raised a brow at him, waiting. “Your parents piloted Charron’s Revenge.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “That better not be why you picked me.”

He gave his head an annoyed little flick. “Of course not. I picked you because you’re fluid - and I’m not.”

Appeased, you felt your hackles settle back down. “That’s true,” you allowed. “You’re not fluid. But you’re purposeful, and-”

You were interrupted when Yoon Jeonghan dropped into the seat to your left, chuckling under his breath as he fixed his long, dark hair into a spiky ponytail at the back of his head.

“Cherry, did you hear?” he asked you, ignoring the new-comer. “The crew for Fatal Rapids got called back in for misconduct.”

“Choi Seungcheol, Yoon Jeonghan,” you said, introducing the two young men. “Hannie does more than gossip, I promise. He’s one of the pilots for Devil’s Advocates. Their drop stats are insane.”

“In practice only,” Jeonghan demurred. “For now.”

“Cherry?” Seungcheol parroted, raising a dark brow. “That’s not what I wrote on my paper earlier.”

“Just a nickname,” you explained. When you were very small, you’d struggled with the name of your parents’ jaeger, calling it Cherry’s Revenge instead of Charron’s, and the crew - who doted on you like their own - started the habit of calling you Cherry. Somehow, it had spread, and stuck. “Only my parents use my real name. But you can call me whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“No,” he said, frowning as if deeply considering his options. “I like it.”

You folded your arms on the table, leaning in to peer at Seungcheol. “So, what’s your story? You’ve heard of me. I haven’t heard of you.”

He shrugged, glanced around, then decided he could talk freely. There’s something about being in a room that’s positively teeming with people and conversation - it gives you privacy without feeling too intimate. You’re not alone.

“Not much of a story, not like you,” he admitted. “I grew up thinking I’d take over my dad’s business. We lost my dad… then, we lost the business. I have no marketable skillset, and university was out of the question. But…” He trailed off, then met your gaze firmly. Something in his look demanded you forgo any pity or sympathy, demanded you take him seriously. “I’m strong. So I came here. I came to fight.”

You sidestepped the bruises he’d bared. “Not like me,” you repeated with a bit of a scoff. “I hate to disappoint you, but my parents are the pilots - the story is theirs. I don’t have one, not yet.”

Something playful glinted in his eyes, the first true sign of personality you’d seen. “So all the rumors about the Princess of the Shatterdome aren’t true?”

Your jaw dropped. You’d heard the nickname before - it was never meant nicely. You tried to ignore it as best you could - people could think what they wanted. When you had a crew, when you had a jaeger, you’d be able to prove them wrong. “What rumors?”

“You’re spoiled,” Jeonghan supplied, having decided he was part of the conversation after all. “Entitled.”

You spluttered as Jeonghan stood, giving you a cheerful pat on the shoulder. “And bitchy! That’s just what I’ve heard. Of course I know better. Anyway, I’ve got to go. Love ya!”

You stared incredulously after him as he disappeared, your face burning with embarrassment and your heart hammering with adrenaline. Fight, your systems told you.

If only you could.

Seungcheol bit back a smile, reaching out to pat your arm placatingly.

“I don’t…” you started to say, but your voice caught in your throat. You cleared it, tried again. “I don’t think I really deserve all that.”

He nodded, lips pushed into a semblance of a thoughtful pout. “What I’d heard,” he said calmly, “is that you’re a hell of a fighter, scary smart, and that you take no shit. Unless it’s from your friends, apparently.”

This made a bitter little laugh bubble from you. You still simmered with humiliation, feared that maybe he’d decide he didn’t want to co-pilot with you after all.

“I think it’s up to you which story gets told,” he said finally.

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. “That’s what I always said. So… let’s get started.”

—

You and Seungcheol lucked out - the team that had been recalled for misconduct were terminated from their posts in the weeks following the sparring trials, and their jaeger Fatal Rapids had been disassembled, the parts up for grabs.

You and Seungcheol repurposed Rapids’s main frame, your crew working to individualize the bot to your needs as best they could. You splurged on quad-processors for her legs to allow your jaeger to keep up with how you move - quick and lithe. Seungcheol lobbied for (and won) some extra power in the top half, and you compromised and chose a mix of red and blue sections for her paintjob.

Duellona Fury, you named her. Duellona for you, the destroyer. Fury for Seungcheol, because that was where his fight came from.

You got to know Seungcheol’s fury very well. Especially when you started trying to drift.

None of it happened fast - not the building of your machine, nor your neural handshake. In fact, you didn’t pilot Duellona Fury together for a whole calendar year.

You started with physical compatibility - you sparred almost all day, every day. You fought - with each other and against each other - until all you could do was lay on the ground and pant, blinking to make the ceiling stay in focus.

Seungcheol may not have grown up training in the Shatterdome the way you did, but he kept up without complaint. You learned his way - force and strength - and he learned the way you favored - to weave and dodge.

The fighting was the easy part.

You had never drifted with someone you had true drift compatibility with. Seungcheol had never drifted at all. The Marshall wouldn’t even consider hooking the two of you up to the machine until you went through the proper training.

On the day you and Seungcheol were officially declared as co-pilots-in-training, you both stood below the half-built shell of your towering jaeger, sparks flying and drills screaming as the crew worked on her.

Your Marshall looked seriously at his new team-in-training. “Starting tomorrow, you’ll meditate together. Talk to each other. Get deep about it. If you’ve talked about it out here-” he swept an arm across the deck, “-it won’t take hold so strongly in there.” He’d jabbed a finger in the upward direction of Duellona Fury.

Seungcheol didn’t look at you, nor the Marshall. Instead, he kept his eyes on Duellona's unfinished frame, stories above you. “Yes, Sir,” he said steadily.

Your parents weren’t technically retired yet, the year you and Seungcheol started training together. Charron’s Revenge still sat in the well below the Shatterdome. They still lived on the base, still took part in daily training. They hadn’t been called into a fight in years, though; the assignments went to the younger crews.

You took dinner in their quarters instead of the mess hall, that night.

“Congratulations,” your father said warmly from across the table. “You worked hard to get here.”

“Thank you,” you said, feeling shy beneath the praise. “I hope the drift will work for me and Choi Seungcheol.”

“What do you think of him?” your mother had asked, her sharp eyes honing in on you, watching your reactions.

“I think he’s a great fighter,” you said. “The rest… I guess I’ll have to learn.”

“Do you trust him? Can you trust him out there, when the sea and the wind are trying to knock you down, and hell itself rises up from the depths?”

You swallowed. She’s right for her intensity - they will be putting their daughter’s life in her co-pilot’s hands, every time there’s a fight. You knew firsthand how terrifying it was to stand in the tech bay and wait, not knowing if your loved ones will make it back.

You thought about how you and Seungcheol fight together in the sparring rooms. You thought about how you weaved and your opponent followed your movement, only to be knocked sideways. You thought of how Seungcheol followed your motion backwards, ducked in tandem with you to avoid a hit, and how you followed his momentum forward and up to attack. Your bodies followed each other like they were magnetized. And Seungcheol was always watching for the next hit.

“Yes,” you said, so quietly that you cleared your throat and said it again. “Yes, I trust him.”

“Then we wish you luck,” your father said, and raised his glass. “To Duellona Fury.”

“To Duellona Fury,” you echoed.

On your way out of the quarters, later, you slowed as you passed the wall where they hung their accolades and awards, the newspaper clippings, photos, and medals. Before your eyes they aged - the photographs changing through the years, no longer showing a bright, fiery couple, instead displaying proof of passing time: a baby bump, then a toddler, then a child beaming alongside them as if she’d done what they had done; greying hairs, softening bodies, deepening of wrinkles. Then the pictures stopped.

You never asked them if they missed it.

—

You and Seungcheol started meditating together the next morning; it seemed logical to begin at the easiest step. In an empty sparring room, you sat facing each other, knees touching.

“Have you done this before?” you asked, as you both settled in, shifting weight and adjusting ankles.

“Not with someone else,” he admitted, lips protruding in a bit of a pout. “Only alone.”

You nodded. You’d grown up learning all of this - the right way to fight as a team member, how to be in tune for a neural connection. It led to you teaching Seungcheol often - yet when you fought together, any leadership fell away.

“Normally,” you explained, “you focus on your breath, keeping your mind clear. But for our practice, you want to focus on our breath. We breathe together. And when your mind wanders, your awareness should be coming to peace with my presence there. Like, making a path for the neural connection - for later. So there’s no resistance.”

“Have you done this before?” Seungcheol asked.

You wobbled your head around - not yes, but not no. “I’ve practiced it - I’ve done the meditation with partners. But I’ve never moved forward to an actual drift with anyone.”

This seemed to appease him, and he settled his weight backwards, letting his hands rest near his knees.

You let your eyes float closed and inhaled, listening and feeling for Seungcheol’s inhale to end, letting your breath out when he did. It took no time to match your breaths, to let your mind go blissfully quiet. You focused on feeling open, readable - any thought that floated through your mind, you pretended he could hear, too. You tried to feel and release any defensiveness, any urge to close off.

When the timer went off, it surprised you. You opened your eyes, and the feeling that struck you was this -

It was surprising to see Seungcheol before you. It hadn’t felt like he was beside you. It had felt like he was you.

You meditated, you fought, and finally, you talked.

Laying on the sparring room floor, your head somewhere near Seungcheol’s shins, he asked you, “Where do you wish you were right now? If you weren’t here.”

You laughed at yourself before answering, knowing how silly you would sound. “In a tree.”

A disbelieving smile played on his lips, almost as if he wasn’t sure you weren’t making fun of him somehow. “A tree?”

“No, really,” you insisted, still smiling a little. “There’s not a lot of nature here, in case you didn’t notice. I grew up in the Dome - never got to leave, much.”

Seungcheol didn’t respond to this, just nodded like he understood, his small smile going a bit tight around the edges.

You frowned, reading him exactly. “You think I’m sheltered,” you observed. It wasn’t a question. He couldn’t say no.

He looked at you, then. “You were sheltered,” he said, voice low. “But when I say it, I don’t mean naive. I just think… there’s a lot of world out there. A lot of things to see. You won’t see any of it if you spend your entire life under the Dome.”

You nod, accepting this. “I won’t see any of it if it gets destroyed, either. There’s a lot of world out there - that we’re trying to keep safe.”

Seungcheol watched you intently for a moment, lips downturned and gaze heavy. Then, he asked, “Have you ever seen a kaiju? I mean - in person?”

“Sort of,” you mumbled.

He’d rolled from his back to his front, closer to you, putting you shoulder to shoulder. “Kind of seems like a yes-or-no question.”

Your lips twisted. “Then, no. But I’ve stood in the bay and listened to Mission Control talk my mom and dad through a fight dozens of times, watched Charron’s Revenge on the screens and prayed I wouldn’t see her get sawed in half.”

You stopped, trailed a finger through the thin layer of dirt on the floor. “I know it’s not the same as looking one in the face myself,” you whispered. “But the fear… shouldn’t that fear count, shouldn’t it feel the same?”

Seungcheol swallowed, trailed his own finger through the dirt until his fingertip just barely touched yours. It felt like energy sizzled in the centimeter between your pointer and his.

“When Menaceclaw attacked,” he said, “he missed my home by one block. We watched him go by from the sidewalk. I wasn’t even as tall as his foot. But even with him towering over the buildings, taking them down without even trying, I don’t think what I felt was afraid. I think I just felt resigned. Like I knew, at seven, that even though we survived this one… nothing was going to be… the same, or okay. I don’t know.”

“You knew what you lost,” you said quietly. “Part of you did.”

He looked up at you, nudged his finger into yours. “You never knew anything different. It wasn’t a loss. The fear was just always part of the deal.”

You rolled sideways, laying your head on your bicep for a pillow, regarding the dark-eyed, dark-haired young man across from you. His face scrunched in a laugh, brows furrowing and lips pouting.

“What?” he asked through the quiet laugh. “Why are you looking at me?”

“What else?” you mused. “What else am I going to find when we go tiptoeing through your memories?”

He smiled faintly and then mirrored you, laying his head on his arm, his eyes swimming as he thought.

“A lot of my family, probably,” he said. “A lot of fighting. Menaceclaw. Probably some very mid sex.”

You laughed without meaning to. “My condolences?”

He grinned at you, pleased. “Eh, what can you do? I try to treat everything like a learning experience.”

You laughed again, and his smile grew, gums showing. “What about you?” he asked off-handedly.

“Mid sex?” you asked, eyebrows raising. “I hate to inform you, Choi Seungcheol, but I don’t do anything mid.”

“No,” he protested, laughing, reaching out to gently shake your shoulder. “I meant - what will we see when it’s your turn?”

“The Dome,” you said, half-joking - but it was true. “Training. My parents. Their fights, their accomplishments.”

And, as a true drift partner should, he understood what you weren’t saying.

“We’ll have our turn,” he promised, pushing himself to sit up, then stand, reaching down to help you up. “We’re gonna be fucking unstoppable. Let’s go again.”

Fire sparking behind your ribs, you nodded seriously, then reached up to take his hand.

—

Weeks of sparring melded into months of meditation and talking. The next phase of training co-pilots was learning to drift in one of the simulators - but not in a jaeger. Not yet.

You and Seungcheol finished training in one of the sparring rooms shortly before dinner would be served in the mess hall.

“Meet you there?” you asked, still half-breathless, your body starting to ache as the adrenaline from a fight melted away.

“Sure,” he agreed, and you disappeared into the changing rooms, scrubbing the sweat and dirt away as quickly as you could. You changed into something clean and made your way to the mess hall.

You scanned for familiar faces, frowning when your normal table seemed to be occupied by a team of new recruits that you didn’t know.

Seungcheol appeared at your elbow, frowning dramatically. “Our table,” he whined.

“There’s Chan and Wylie,” you said, nodding to another corner where your friends sat practically on top of each other. Chan and Wylie had never understood personal space, not when it came to one another. They barely noticed when you and Seungcheol plopped onto the benches next to them, but Seungkwan did.

“You’re bleeding, Cherry,” he said, before inhaling an entire mouthful of rice.

You started to scan your arms - you didn’t feel pain anywhere - but Seungcheol found it first, gingerly swiping his thumb along your cheekbone.

“Sorry, Cherry,” he murmured. “I should’ve pulled that punch.”

“No you shouldn’t have,” you grumbled, swatting at his hand and wiping roughly at the spot, your hand coming away with a small smear of red - nothing to be alarmed about. It would stop on its own. “You pull shots in practice, you’ll hesitate in the field.”

“She’s right,” Chan said from his physical tangle with Wylie. “What you practice will show up in your muscle memory. You’ve got to mean it, every time.”

Wylie reached across his arms and took a bite from his plate, then asked, “Did you guys see the new jaeger?”

“I did,” Seungkwan said eagerly. “Chaser Supernova, or something like that? She’s smaller, but she’s supposed to be fast.”

“Is that her team at our normal table?” you asked dryly, shooting the rookies a dark look over your shoulder. Seungcheol jostled you playfully, sending you a smile that brought you back.

The bench dipped to your left, and you turned to see Soonyoung - one of Seungkwan’s two co-pilots - settle in.

“Talking about Supernova?” he asked, hands busy opening his drink. “They seem okay - they’re a trio, like us.”

“Where is Seokmin?” Seungkwan asked, scanning the room. “I haven’t seen him in like two hours.”

“Talking to Jihoon, I think,” Soonyoung answered absently, focused on his meal. “He lost another co-pilot today.”

“Not again,” you and Seungcheol both blurted, matching levels of exasperation.

“That was freaky,” Wylie said, just as Chan told you, “You two are acting like us, now.”

“We do not need another Chan-and-Wylie,” Seungkwan said seriously, shaking his head.

Seungcheol sent you a sideways, sheepish grin.

“We won’t be,” he promised the group, but his eyes were still on you.

—

The simulators were built to be exact replicas of the conn-pod, so that trainees could get used to the feeling of being strapped in, of moving with the gear. But the real purpose was to practice the neural handshake without risking damage - to the jaeger, to the tech bay, to each other.

“Don’t be nervous,” you told Seungcheol as the tech team worked around you both like a choreographed dance.

“I’m never nervous,” he said, suddenly cocky.

If you could reach his hand from where you were strapped in, you would have. If you understood anything about Seungcheol - if any part of him mirrored you - it was the way he showcased bravado, the way he used it as his most-familiar mask.

“It’s only practice,” you reminded him. “And it’s only me.”

He licked his lips quickly, eyes darting to the side and then back to you. Then, he gave you a small nod.

“Normally,” your chief tech - a beautiful woman with jet-black hair named Nainsi - told you, “right now, you would be ready for the drop. In the simulator, we skip that step because we aren’t dropping onto a jaeger. Instead, we’ll engage the pilot to pilot connection protocol sequence.”

You and Seungcheol nod in tandem.

“You’re all good?” Nainsi checks. “Then I’m going back into the tech bay - you’ll hear me through the intercom.”

Alone in the simulator, you met Seungcheol’s gaze and couldn’t help the excited grin that spread across your face. Finally, finally you were here. Once you could do this successfully, the next step was to fight in your own jaeger - to drop into Duellona Fury and walk into the sea.

He didn’t return your smile, instead giving you a tight nod, expression serious.

Over the intercom, you said clearly, “Ready and aligned.”

Nainsi answered, “Prepare for neural handshake.”

You took a deep breath and steeled yourself as the artificial voice of the simulator’s tech system spoke around you, 3… 2… 1… neural handshake initiating…

At first, you thought something went wrong. Everything went red behind your eyelids, and you blinked, instinctively trying to clear it away.

The red faded, and you found yourself in Seungcheol’s childhood home. You didn’t know how you knew that - you just knew. It was as familiar to you, inside the drift, as your own. You knew that to your left was a small kitchen with two broken floor tiles; you knew - without having ever seen it - that to your right was a narrow hallway that led to a bathroom and two small bedrooms.

Two small boys played on the carpet; rather, the smaller one played with some toy cars while the other watched the television with rapture. Behind them, at the kitchen table, a woman typed busily on an outdated laptop, bags heavy under her eyes.

Somewhere around you, a voice floated by, telling you, neural handshake strong and holding.

You could see Seungcheol in your periphery - the adult Seungcheol, the Seungcheol of now - as he looked at his mother, his brother, himself.

“It’s not real,” you reminded him gently. “It’s just a memory.”

“I know,” he said back, voice hushed, as if he might scare them away. “It’s just… good to see them.”

The house evaporated as gently as morning dew under a mid-morning sun; you stood in a schoolyard. Seungcheol, the small one, had a bloody lip and a mean swing.

You felt a rush of affection for him - him, the child, face contorting with misplaced anger, using strength as a bandage. You wanted to stand in front of him, between him and the anger, him and the other kids, and let him take a breath. You wanted to tell him to step with his punch to get more power. You wanted to put a hand on his shoulder and tell him, you’re going to be fine.

And he knew all of it, because he was in your mind.

Seungcheol - your Seungcheol - walked away from the swarm of children egging on the fight and opened a door. You followed.

Inside was not the school, but a hospital room. Your body jolted forward, distracting and alarming. You heard, faintly, a series of beeps, that robotic voice needling in your ears, saying, calibration failure… recalibrating in 3… 2… 1…

“It’s only a memory,” you said again, but the warning beeps were coming stronger, louder, more clearly. The hospital room looked opaque, and Seungcheol walked backwards towards you, away from it, herding you both out of the room. The room - a bed, a pulled curtain, a lot of white - flickered, like a glitch, and then vanished, leaving you standing in the simulator.

Neural handshake disengaged…

“Seungcheol!” you yelled, pulling your helmet off and wheeling on him as best you could with most of your body still strapped in. “What the hell was that? You pushed me out!”

He was breathing hard, eyes a little wild. “Not that,” he said, a little ragged. “I’ll let you in but - not that.”

“You don’t get to choose!” you snapped. Part of you knew this was just growing pains, he’d never drifted before, he was learning. But the rest of you smarted and stung - both from his rejection and from your failure to train, to succeed, to check off this final step before you could get inside your jaeger. “It’s kind of an all-or-nothing thing!”

He let out a billow of air, reaching a hand up to rub at his face. “Sorry. I’ll… let’s try again.”

You didn’t answer, fuming silently instead.

“I’m sorry, Cherry,” he said. “The stuff with my dad…”

“You can’t cherry-pick what we see and what we don’t,” you fired back. His eyes shot to yours and his mouth quirked and you read the joke all over his face. “Don’t you laugh, Seungcheol, it’s not funny!”

But you were laughing through the scolding.

“Stop,” you whined.

Your anger defused, he looked at you again, taking a bracing breath. “It’s not about you,” he tried to explain. “I’m not keeping you out. I’m keeping me out.”

“Don’t chase the rabbit,” you told him, shaking your head. “See what it wants you to see and move on. Find the next door. If you stand there and let your hurt - or your, I don’t know… grief - rise up… that’s when we’re going to have trouble.”

“Find the next door,” he repeated, eyes on the floor. “Got it.”

“You can’t push it away,” you reminded him, “but you don’t have to stay in it, either.”

He nodded, eyes already lighting up, ready to go again.

The second time, you saw him steel himself before opening that same door, watching carefully as he shuffled inside, only looking sideways at the hospital room that materialized around you.

“Seungcheol.”

He turned to look at you, wide-eyed, but you hadn’t called him. The voice, weak and hoarse, had come from the other side of the fluttering curtain.

The glitching started almost immediately - the image around you flickering like a bad wall projection. Something rocked beneath your feet, an earthquake only inside your minds.

You opened your mouth, started to tell him, you don’t have to stay, to remind him that he could move forward. Instead, you heard yourself say, “I’m here.”

The tremors under your feet quivered to a stop. You watched with trepidation and Seungcheol closed his eyes and took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. Then, he held his hand out, waiting.

You slipped your hand into his, and then he turned and continued walking, ignoring his father’s memory calling out to him. The flickering stopped, the picture you were part of brightening again as you found the next door, stepped through, left his pain behind.

—

It got easier quickly. Seungcheol’s ability to press on, to maintain focus, strengthened.

The strolls through your mind went easier - you’d had years to practice maintaining focus, waiting until after to let the emotions hit you.

Seungcheol learned to be ready for you, after. He’d sit with you, silent, and breathe in tandem as you worked to let go, to release the images of Charron’s Revenge on the tech bay screen, the sounds of your parents’ frantic communication as they fought together, the fear crawling its way up your legs every time until someone in the bay said, “Charron’s Revenge, cleared to return.” The loneliness of being the only kid in the Dome, having no outlet except fighting. Everything that threatened your mind while you piloted, everything that you had to save for later - save for him.

You were both freshly turned twenty when you got green-lit to drive.

“Seungcheol!” you called across the mess hall, practically racing to your table. He turned, eyebrows raised, as you crossed the large room.

“We’re approved to drop!” you told him excitedly. It churned in you - finally, finally you could fight, you could prove what you could do, you could help. “We’re on the drop schedule for tomorrow!”

His grin was unfettered, unfiltered, just for you. He reached up a fist and you bumped it enthusiastically. You were too excited to eat, too excited to sleep. You tossed and turned, imagining experiencing a drop for the first time, imagining striding through the mighty sea like it was nothing, imagining staring down hell itself and bringing it to its knees.

You were still awake when you heard the alarms down the hall. Yours didn’t go off, because you weren’t on duty, weren’t approved to fight.

Down the hall, there was a flurry of commotion - shouting, rushing, people pushing past you as they pulled on boots and jackets.

“Cat-3 in the west bay,” someone shouted.

“Deploying Devil’s Advocate!”

You reached the tech bay, trying to stay out of the way but not unseen. When the Marshall strode by, you stepped sideways.

“Let us drop,” you said quickly, knowing time was precious. “It’ll be like practice. We can be back-up. We’ll hang back.”

“Absolutely not,” the Marshall said, already moving to work past you. “You’re not approved yet. We don’t need a liability right now.”

“We’re scheduled for tomorrow!” you protested, and then you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“We’ll get our turn,” Seungcheol told you quietly. Of course he’d come out, of course he found you.

You deflated. “It could have been us. We are hours from approval.”

He gave your shoulder a tiny shake. “We’ll get our turn,” he repeated. “Don’t make trouble.”

You glowered, but you knew he was right. “Fine,” you grumbled as Joshua and Jeonghan slinked past you in matching jackets and matching shit-eating grins. You stayed out of the way as they prepared to drop.

You stayed through the fight, listened to the control room buzz and chatter, until you heard, “Devil’s Advocate, cleared to return.”

Only then did you try to go back to sleep. Seungcheol gave your shoulder one more squeeze.

“Tomorrow,” he promised.

“Tomorrow,” you repeated.

—

Some people feel God at church. The history of tradition and the sanctity of ritual speak to them, help them feel part of something, help them feel that unnameable swell of something spiritual.

Some people feel God in nature. The patterns of the universe, the way math exists without human touch, the harmonies and patterns that seem too intricate for coincidence help them believe in a planner’s touch. The beauty of the outdoors allows them to wonder, to feel like they belong as a piece of this clockwork.

But you - you felt God when you stood before your jaeger, marveling at the power, the beauty, how it feels like yours, how it feels like Seungcheol before you’re even inside it. Duellona Fury promises you power, promises you purpose.

That hand was on your shoulder again, and it slid down to the center of your back before removing itself.

Beside you, Seungcheol stared up at your glorious machine.

“She looks sick,” he said, the grin taking over his face.

“I can’t wait to fuck shit up,” you murmured, your reverent tone at odds with the flippancy of your words.

“Ready?” the Marshall asked you, coming up to your left. “We’ll get you calibrated and dropped, and then you’ll do a lap of the bay. We’re sending out Pretty Savage just in case you run into trouble.”

The defensiveness rose in you quick, like a snakebite.

“We don’t need a babysitter,” Seungcheol said, voice hard. You reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze - a reminder to watch it, just as his hand on your shoulder frequently did for you.

“It’s just safety protocol.” The Marshall was unphased by the outburst. “Have fun, you two. Enjoy your first joy-ride.”

You screamed when you dropped, the exhilaration rushing out of you as Duellona Fury fell story after story before slowing and attaching to your jaeger’s mainframe.

Goosebumps raised along your arms when the Shatterdome’s sea-doors slid open, shudders traveling your body as you and Seungcheol stepped together, Duellona Fury stepping with you, her gigantic, metal form following every movement.

For the first time in your whole, careful life, you felt powerful. Your jaeger cut through the ocean waves like they were nothing, making an easy perimeter of the bay. In your head, you could somehow both hear and feel Seungcheol’s delight, his low-simmering desire to fight, to do something a perfect mirror of your own.

“How is it?” Soonyoung’s voice crackled in your ears, reminding you that Pretty Savage wasn’t far behind you.

“Incredible,” Seungcheol answered him, at the same time that you said, “It’s everything.”

It didn’t matter that you came from a family of pilots. It didn’t matter that you were raised in the Dome, training since you were young. None of that mattered. You were born for this - born to fight for your planet, born for Duellona Fury, born for Choi Seungcheol.

—

The west bay became Duellona’s playground; you and Seungcheol were often assigned to patrol there.

It was only a few months in that you faced a kaiju for the first time.

“Come in, Duellona Fury,” Nainsi’s voice came through. “We have a reading just a few miles north of you. Cat-2. Approaching at -”

Duellona Fury was turning due north before the command was even given.

“Are you ready for this?” you shouted to Seungcheol as Duellona slid through the water, the adrenaline singing in your system already.

“You know I am,” he answered, something hard in it, and the thrill in your stomach sparked.

When the sea split in half, the kaiju rising from the depths with an unearthly roar, you sank into a defensive stance, feeling Seungcheol move beside you, doing the same.

“Let’s fucking go,” Seungcheol said darkly, and launched forward, your arms rearing back for momentum before the first swing. The punch landed solidly, your whole body shaking once as the kaiju faltered backwards a few steps.

It opened its mouth and you glimpsed three rows of teeth bigger than a cow before it was lunging at you; Duellona Fury lurched. You tried to duck sideways as Seungcheol tried to move towards your opponent.

The moment of indecision cost you - the kaiju got its teeth on Duellona’s shoulder, knocking you back several steps. Beside you, Seungcheol roared as sparks flew near the bite.

“Are we breached?” you yelled, trying to steady your balance again.

“Not yet!” he yelled back, and you swung again, a hit landing hard enough to knock the kaiju loose, spitting it back into the sea.

You tried to move into a defensive crouch again; again, the jaeger faltered.

“Cherry!” Seungcheol yelled, desperation laced in his voice. ���Cherry, don’t fight me!”

“Move with me!” you answered, and he did, miraculously, Duellona dodging left before an incoming attack.

Don’t fight me.

You rocked forward with Seungcheol as soon as you were clear of the kaiju’s trajectory, just as you’d done in practice thousands of times. Back in sync, Duellona Fury landed a kick to the kaiju’s middle that sent it stumbling.

“We’ve got him,” you said, feeling a win.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Seungcheol warned you. No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the kaiju exploded from the dark ocean, limbs flailing as it flew towards you.

Duellona’s arms came up and locked it in battle, the impact shaking you so hard that your teeth chattered against each other. You groaned with exertion as you tried to match its strength.

“I don’t think we can hold it,” you managed through grit teeth.

“We’ve got this,” your partner promised, and with a mighty shove, you managed to flip the beast over your shoulder and beneath the waves.

“Drop the bombs and head for the east side,” you said quickly, already moving. Duellona Fury followed your command, turning and starting an easy run through the bay’s churning waters, away from where the kaiju was struggling to its feet, furious and vengeful. As she ran, she dropped three small explosives, about sixty feet apart. The explosives slipped into the ocean depths.

“Ready?” Seungcheol asked, a little breathless. “Are we far enough away?”

“Light him up,” you replied. Seungcheol reached up and tapped the button; somewhere behind you, the ocean exploded.

—

“How’s your shoulder?” you asked, later, in the med bay.

“Not that bad,” Seungcheol said, but you could see the blood-stains on the bandaging.

“It won’t happen again,” you promised. “I think I just… practiced alone for so long. I forgot to listen. I’m sorry.”

Seungcheol shook his hand, eyes finding yours. “There’s nothing to forgive, Cherry. Forget about it.” Then, he brightened. “You know what I want to do?”

“What?” you asked, not entirely past feeling guilty.

His smile was devilish. “I want to go celebrate our first fucking kill.”

– 

You marked the passing of two years in statistics.

Three hundred and forty-six explosives detonated.

Two hundred and eighty-three drops. Two hundred and eight-three kills. 

Seventy-two mainframe repairs.

Twenty-eight achievement awards.

Nine television interviews.

Six upgrades.

One ill-informed “vacation” during which you both itched with anxiety, spending the whole time messaging your friends back in the Shatterdome desperately, praying you wouldn’t miss a fight in which you were needed.

Seven hundred and thirty days of living in and around Seungcheol’s mind and heart. But that stat should’ve gone first.

It was a good high. Your team had a good run.

It wasn’t a kaiju that reduced it to ash, not an attack that took your team out of the rotation of main fighters and sent your jaeger to gather rust and dust below the Dome. It was your own stupid heart.

There were a lot of moments that could have been it. Each time you walked into a fight knowing the danger, each time he ended up in the med bay reeking of antibacterial ointment and resentment. Each time you slid into your place beside him - space he saved only for you. Each time his voice bidding you goodnight from the bottom bunk was the last thing you heard at the end of the day. Any of these moments might have been the one to make you stop, gasp, suddenly slammed with understanding. That you loved him, that he was everything you couldn’t bear to be without, that he was part of you. But they weren’t.

There was no moment of realization at all.

Instead, it slowly seeped into your consciousness, as gently and naturally as morning dew collecting on pre-dawn petals. The knowledge clung to you, as impossible to ignore as damp feet after running barefoot through the yard just after sunrise.

If you knew something, that meant your co-pilot would know it, too.

Unless you tucked it away, pushed it down deep and cast his attention elsewhere, a mental sleight-of-hand. Look here instead. 

You were twenty-three, on a routine patrol, when Mission Control radioed Duellona that there was a reading in the bay.

“Looks like it’s only a Cat-1,” Mission Control told you.

“On it,” you told them, feeling your body already mirroring Seungcheol’s as Duellona picked up her pace, striding through the waves. 

You glanced sideways at him, and immediately wished you hadn’t. He was already zoned in, eyes focused and jaw sharp as he concentrated. 

He caught your gaze for only a second. “Focus, Cherry,” he cautioned. “Don’t get cocky.”

“I would never,” you retorted, and he laughed. You were both cocky; you both knew it.

For a second, things felt better. 

The fight was almost easy, when the ocean seemed to split in two and the waves fell away like wrapping paper to reveal the kaiju you’d been sent for. 

You swung and ducked, dropping explosives strategically, Seungcheol moving in unison with you. There was something graceful about it - something beautiful in the sync, something holy in the way your muscles mimicked each other’s. 

This is what happens when sunlight hits morning dew: it warms, lifts, makes the air humid and sticky until it burns away. 

It rose up in you, your love for him, infusing the air around you, infusing the neural handshake that he was deeply imbedded in.

No. 

You panicked, tried to do several things at once - tried to shove the feeling down, tried to think of something else, tried to push Seungcheol’s consciousness out of yours.

Duellona Fury lurched around you, shuddering. 

“Cherry!” Seungcheol screamed to your left, and then the kaiju hit, its full weight slamming into Duellona’s mainframe.

You both staggered, trying to right yourselves, as the machines around you blinked and beeped and rebooted. 

Seungcheol grunted under the neural weight of driving alone as you gasped and closed your eyes, trying desperately to fix it. Around you, you heard the floating words - recalibrating.

“Recalibrate faster!” you shouted, glancing sideways to see your co-pilot struggling to hold the monster in place, his face contorting with effort, arms straining against the machinery. He bared his gritted teeth, exhaling in a hiss between them. 

You gave yourself a shake, bouncing on the balls of your feet, desperate for the connection to take again so you could pick up your half, take the literal weight from him. As soon as you felt the neural handshake, you gave a mighty shove and Duellona flipped the monster backwards, the ocean receding and then coming back to slam her shins, swallowing the monster whole.

You both sank into a defensive stance, ready for the beast to rise again.

“What was that?” Seungcheol demanded, later, as he sat in the med bay, waiting for his nosebleed to stop. The nosebleed you’d caused by letting him carry a neural load meant for two.

“I don’t know,” you lied, still panicked and desperate. 

“Bullshit,” Seungcheol countered, eyes narrowed. He reached up and pulled the cotton away from his face, examining it. “I’m fine now,” he announced, and tossed the wad into a nearby trash bin, standing.

You fought the urge to cower, knowing he’d never let it go if you did. You followed him silently out of the med bay and back towards your dormitories. Halfway there, he slowed, then stopped.

Then, more calmly this time, he asked, “What happened, Cherry? You pushed me out.”

There was a slight pout to it, a sliver of hurt, and it sliced through you like something tangible, like you were actually wounded from it, like it might actually bleed.

“I don’t know,” you repeated. Guilt poked at you until you relented, gave him something that was at least partly true.  “I got scared.” 

“That can’t happen, and you know it,” he said seriously, his large frame casting a long shadow to your left as he leaned into your space. “You can’t keep secrets - that’s piloting 101. We’ve got to handle it. You know what’s at stake here.”

You did; you did, and that was entirely the problem. It wasn’t just feelings, it wasn’t just your relationship with Seungcheol at stake. It was your relationship with your co-pilot - your ability to fight was at stake, your ability to keep others safe. Your legacy.

Your parents’ wall of pictures flashed in your mind.

“I’m going to my mom and dad’s for a while,” you said quietly. 

He nodded, let you run away - trusted you to come back to him when you were ready, trusted you to let him in.

You weren’t sure if he was right or wrong, as you walked away and left him behind.

You didn’t go to your parents’, though. Instead, you went to the tech bay and sat, watching Duellona undergo simple repairs from her fight. You stayed there, the metal cold beneath your thighs, watching the tech team buff over a scratch on your jaeger’s torso, until someone dropped into the spot next to you, bumping their shoulder roughly into yours.

“Where’s Seungcheol?” Wylie, who co-piloted Fury Striker with Chan, was your closest friend in the Dome besides Seungcheol. 

“He’s pissed at me,” you answered, looking sideways, because the question had really meant, why isn’t Seungcheol with you? 

You weren’t sure she’d understand what you were going through - she and Chan had been obsessed with each other since they were kids. Neither of them had ever had to fear that their love for each other would mess anything up. It had been part of their deal from the start.

“What’d you do?” Wylie demanded, turning her full, unfettered attention on you. You wanted to shrink from the intensity of it - but that was always how Wylie worked: full wattage, all the time.

“Almost got us killed by a fucking Cat-1 tonight,” you muttered, angry at yourself, angry at your heart.

Wylie smacked your arm hard enough to send you sideways. “Cherry!” she scolded. 

“There was something I didn’t want him to see.” You said it in your head first, weighed the words, then forced them through your teeth. You hoped she’d just know what it was, hoped you wouldn’t have to force those words past muscle and bone, too.

Wylie’s face dropped into irritation. “Cherry,” she repeated, disappointment dripping from the two syllables.

You looked up at Duellona Fury again. 

“You can’t do that,” she told you, giving your ankle a little kick for emphasis. “You know you can’t do that.”

You can’t love him? Or, you can’t keep secrets from him?

You didn’t ask. You didn’t want to know the answer.

Seungcheol was waiting up for you when you finally returned to the dorm. You opened the door to find the first room - an entryway and kitchen, both - dimly lit. Beyond it, in the small sitting space, Seungcheol sat facing the door, his chin in his hand.

You knew the look on his face. You knew it so well that you almost ran from it, almost turned right around and went back out to the hallway.

Brows slightly furrowed, mouth a straight line, jaw tight. Eyes focused, locked in. It was the face he made in training before he bodied someone. It was the face he made in the field before an offensive strike. It meant he had his sights on a target, a problem, and he was about to throw everything he had at it.

And right now, you were the problem.

“Hey?” you tried meekly.

He nodded. Licked his lips. Stood. 

He’s pissed at me, you’d told Wylie. The energy radiating from your co-pilot was much more complex than that, the air around you palpably tense and teetering.

“How was it at your parents’?” he asked, voice low. 

You took one tentative step closer. “I didn’t go,” you admitted. One lie between you was already more than you wanted. “I watched them patch up Duellona instead. Talked to Wylie a little.”

He nodded, eyes still on you. Nervousness coursed through you, but it would be a lie - another one - to say it wasn’t laced with a little excitement. He was stunning, always, but like this - it almost took your breath away.

If he was in your mind right now, there’d be no question. He’d know all of it. The attraction, the desire, the fear, the affection, the love, the need. All of it. 

His eyes caught on a bruise peeking out from the short sleeve of your top. “You should’ve had them look at that,” he said, reaching out like he wanted to run his fingers over the dark splotch, but he was just too far away, fingertips closing around the air just an inch or two away. 

You shook your head. “You needed attention first. You carried the neural load alone.” Because of me.

“Only for a minute.”

“A minute too long. I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

It hung between you. You don’t know if you’d inched forward or he had, or both, but you were close enough to touch now when you hadn’t been just seconds ago.

He lifted his eyes, his gaze locking on yours. In the dim room, his eyes shone black. “You pushed me out.”

It was an accusation, but it was also a question.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, barely able to say it, your voice coming out in a hoarse whisper. “Seungcheol, I was scared.”

Maybe he was in your head. Maybe he did know all of it.

“Don’t be,” he told you. “Don’t be scared.”

His arms were around you though you didn’t see him move. It wasn’t the first time you’d let him embrace you - after a fight, in relief, or in victorious delight, or sometimes just in sleepy affection at the end of a long day. It was far from the first time that you’d found comfort in the space between his arms, strong and capable around your frame, your forehead pressed against his sternum as his heart beat directly into your bones. 

But it was the first time that his fingers, confident and sure, tipped under your chin, guiding you to look up at him, guiding your mouth to meet his.

You don’t know if you melted or exploded - it was somehow both at once. You gripped his back, feeling the muscles move beneath his t-shirt, relaxing into his hold and focusing on the feel of his full lips firm and hungry against your own. This was everything - everything you’d wanted, everything you were afraid of, everything you needed, everything that could rip your life apart.

You didn’t mean to whine, but it slipped up your throat and into the gasped space between your lips and his as you tried to pull in a desperate breath. He responded with a grunt, walking you backwards until the edge of the kitchen counter jutted into your lower back. His hands traveled, up to the back of your neck, back down to the slight curve of your waist, around to the back of your ass. He tugged your hips against his roughly, and you let your head fall back, panting, head spinning.

“Cherry,” he breathed against the newly bared stretch of your neck, his lips close enough to drag against your skin as he spoke.

Your hands found the back of his neck, gave the slightest tug upwards, and he followed, bringing his mouth back to yours. His tongue pressed yours briefly, your moan muffled entirely by his mouth as you tried to press him closer, closer, as if you wanted your rib-cages to meld, to slip together like fitting puzzle pieces. 

His hand slipped lower from your ass and wrapped around your thighs, taking only a second to lift you onto the counter behind you. You wrapped yourself around him immediately, pulling him into the space between your legs, arms around his neck, pulling him in, wanting to feel every bit of him against you. 

His hands found the hem of your shirt and lifted; you raised your arms in compliance and felt the cotton slip over your head and your hands.

“Yours,” you murmured, but he had already reached back between his shoulder blades, his own top joining yours on the floor.

Your hands found him on their own, sliding over his skin, fingers dipping between muscles, thumbs sweeping over shadows.

You kissed until you turned liquid, molten, your fingers wrapped in his hair. His fingers mapped every inch of your skin, as if his job was to report back on every previously unknown dip, every rough circle, every beauty mark or blemish. His fingers traced them all, his hands passing over you reverently.

The brush of his bare chest against your own was torturous; delicious until you were full, until you couldn’t take it anymore, until the electric-sharp thrill became uncomfortable. You tilted backwards, creating more space between your torsos but pushing your hips firmly into his.

You both groaned at the contact. You could feel the heat and weight of him now, and everything instinctual within you urged you to shift further, to bring that heat and heaviness closer to the part of you that ached for it. 

He pressed his hips into you without reservation, your core clenching in response to the movement and the friction. 

Then he leaned back, his hands gripping the edge of the counter, his arms bracketing you on either side, his chest heaving as he struggled to control his breathing. He drank you in, his eyes as molten as you felt. You leaned back on your elbows and met his gaze.

The moment expanded; nothing existed but his eyes and the pant of his breath and the way he smelled like he’d just finished a fight and the way he felt between your thighs, unmovable and steady.

Neither of you was connected to jaeger machinery, but you may as well have been, because you knew without a shadow of a doubt that your minds were connected, the drift be damned. Your eyes locked, you knew he felt everything you felt - the gravity of what you were doing, the love that drove you, the fire coursing through you. If there was going to be hesitation or questioning, this was the moment, this was the pause. But you were one, your minds were one, and there was none of that. 

His unvoiced question definitively answered by the certainty that flowed between you, Seungcheol moved to lift you again, taking you easily from the countertop into the dark of the room you share, settling you on your back on his bottom bunk.

Above you, mostly shadowed, was your other half, the only person who knew and understood every cobwebbed corner of your consciousness, the only person who had walked through your mind and found himself mirrored in every way that mattered. He was beautiful in the fractured light, his expression serious and gaze intense. 

You reached up to slide your thumb along his jaw and his eyes fluttered closed, his breath leaving him as in relief, as if you’d made some kind of admission. 

Making love to Seungcheol felt like drifting. His eyes on you as his fingers pulled you apart felt the same as the careful way he’d watch you when your memories got emotional, like he was watching for any sign that you weren’t okay, that you needed more or less or him. 

The way his breath and shoulders shuddered when he pressed into you for the first time felt the same as when he faltered in face of his father’s memory; both times, his fingers laced through yours and held tight until you could both breathe again.

He felt how you’d always known he would. Perfect - a perfect fit for you, a physical compatibility you had never tested but had always trusted would be there. He took you apart without even trying, and all you could do was hold onto him, feel all of him, feel all of it, and try to remember to breathe.

You didn’t speak as you moved together in the dark; the only sounds in the tight room were muted gasps, tiny moans muffled against necks, skin on skin, the obscene squelching sounds that accompanied each snap of his hips. You didn’t say the words that your lips tried to form - it’s so much, go slow for a little, Seungcheol, I love you, more - please, don’t stop. Maybe he heard them. Maybe this was a different way to drift, one that didn’t need wires.

You did your best to hold his gaze, losing sight of him only when you strained up to kiss him, when you nuzzled your face into the warmth between his neck and shoulder and gasped against a wave of sensation, when you couldn’t help but close them as they rolled back, your toes curling. 

He pressed his forehead to yours when he finished, your name slipping out of him, as if it had been literally squeezed from his lungs. “Cherry… Cherry…”

You lay together in silence for a long time, feeling your hearts slow, your skin cool. Your thumb traced his jaw again and again, slow, worshipful. “Cheol,” you whispered. My Cheol. My everything. You didn’t say the rest as you lay together in the quiet, in the dark, your heartbeats competing. 

You didn’t know that you’d drifted together for the last time. You didn’t know that your ability to neural connect could be broken.

–

The wind whips around you, stinging your face. You barely flinch. When you’d first relocated here, three years ago, the cold had made you literally cry during your first month. Just from having to walk from the door of the dormitory across the yard to the mess hall dorm, the intensity of it had sent you spiraling into misery - damning the circumstances that had sent you here, away from everyone and everything you knew and loved, to a place where the air hurt. 

You were sure it would hurt, this intensely, forever.

But time eased the sting, and despite your doubts you did adjust. Now the early morning wind feels bracing and refreshing rather than painful. You’ve adjusted to a lot of things since relocating to a small training center in Alakanuk, Alaska: the climate, the food, the no-frills campus you lived and worked on. Being away from your parents, from Wylie and Chan and Seungkwan and Jeonghan and all the other pilots you were friends with at the Shatterdome.

Being away from Seungcheol. Being partnerless, a half instead of a whole. 

Being unable to pilot, unable to fight. 

Being brokenhearted.

Just like the cold, the pain of your losses was the same - the sting of heartbreak and loneliness and homesickness faded to something ignorable, something you could keep tucked tight in the back of your mind. 

You can hear the noise from inside the mess hall before you even cross the courtyard. There are short of fifty girls ranging from ages seven to eighteen being housed here, but from the noise you’d swear it was at least a hundred. 

The buildings are single-storied, painted with a heavily-chipping grey-blue that sometimes seems to belong to the mist you often get rolling in from the ocean. When you’d first come, you’d legitimately thought they were painted that way as camouflage, meant to blend in with the sea. The other trainers had a good laugh about that. 

As you cross the courtyard between the trainers’ dorms and the mess hall, you breathe deeply, eyes on the birds alight above you. After a lifetime in the Shatterdome, you don’t take for granted the fresh air you’re afforded as you pass between buildings, outside, the sky open and changing above. You don’t take for granted the rhythm of the ocean, the cries of the gulls, nor the distant treeline.

It was Seungcheol who had noted that you were sheltered, having never lived outside of the Dome. 

It was Seungcheol you could blame - at least halfway - for your relocation here, where there wasn’t a jaeger or even a city for hundreds of miles. 

When you pull open the flimsy door to the mess hall, the noise triples. Several of the girls call out to greet you, and you give them a quick wave as you head to the table where the staff eats.

“You’re later than normal,” one of the other instructors notes as you reach for a piece of bread.

You shrug lightly, unbothered. “Still have plenty of time before the first class. What day is today, Thursday? I’ve got the little ones first, right?”

The all-girls training center is meant to teach fighting and the groundworks for drifting, but no jaegers are housed here, no teams launch into the icy bay. The girls here will grow up to pilot - if they get selected, if they get paired with a partner. 

You’re mostly here to teach them to fight, the way you trained in the Dome, but you do plenty more. Help brush hair in the mornings, console tearful faces, teach games and sports, mediate arguments. You also got sucked into running one literacy class a week, though you still haven’t figured out how that happened. 

It would be a lie to say this wasn’t fulfilling, that you didn’t love the girls you cared for, that you weren’t happy here with the ocean and birds and trees and laughter. In many ways, the seclusion of this training center is exactly what you needed to get back on your feet, to find strength in yourself, to heal with distance and time.

But, god, what you would give for a real fight. What you would give to feel both loved and threatened by Wylie, to rib at the guys, to hug your mom. What you would give to hear Seungcheol’s teasing pout, to catch his gaze across the span of your jaeger and know what his body and yours will do, to feel his fingers just barely graze your back when he knows you need to be reminded to focus.

The final time you’d tried, the neural connection never took. It was like trying to connect with a stranger. It had simply been still, a thing that was never alive.

“Don’t do this,” Seungcheol had begged, and that had been the nail in the coffin.

Don’t do this, he’d said. It had landed like blame. Like everything was your fault, and only yours. Like you had broken the connection on purpose, were keeping him out, barricading your mind from his when you desperately wanted everything to go right back to normal.

After that failure, you didn’t tell him you were asking to be reassigned. You didn’t want to give him the chance to say don’t do this a second time.

You’ve just ended a class, the girls starting to filter out through the training room’s side door towards the mess hall for lunch, when the center’s Administrator calls your name from the door.

“There’s a call for you on my line. I have them holding.”

A call? 

Adrenaline races through you; it has to be an emergency. Your parents and friends can reach you on your own device, which is tucked into your back pocket. To call the mainline here at the center means this is a base-to-base call, not a personal one.

You’ve only been in this office a handful of times in your few years here, and you shuffle awkwardly around the desk and pick up the receiver that sits abandoned on the chipped, wooden desktop. 

You greet the person on the line with your real name. 

“Cherry?”

Your Marshall - your old Marshall, from the Dome - sounds unsure if he has the right person on the line. No one has called you Cherry in three years. Even your parents have used your given name the few times they’ve said it on your weekly calls home.

“It’s me,” you affirm. “Is everything okay? My parents?”

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, and you heave a relieved breath. “Everyone is fine. This is official business. I want to call you in.”

You shake your head, frowning, well aware that he can’t see your reaction. Your body has said no, but you force yourself to ask, “Me? Why?”

“We’re down a few teams,” the Marshall says. “And -”

“You’ve got more recruits than places to put them,” you counter before he can finish. “Call one of the new teams up. Call three new teams up. You don’t need me.”

“We do - we need teams with experience, teams that are ready. Not rookies bumbling around looking for mistakes. We need precision. We need Duellona Fury.”

Your Marshall lays out the situation: the teams that are out, the problems they’re having at the breach - less time between attacks, more monsters at once. You’ve seen this before, you all have, and there’s protocol in place - protocol that starts with all hands on deck. 

You shake your head again. From the door, the Administrator of the center watches you seriously, like she knows you’re being taken away. 

“Marshall, with all due respect, I don’t know why you’re calling me,” you admit. “What can I give you? I can’t pilot Duellona.”

Not anymore. 

The Marshall sighs, like he knew this argument was coming and didn’t have a good response. 

“I think you can,” he says finally. “I’m not saying it will be easy, and I’m not saying it will happen quickly or without effort. But I think you can.”

“No,” you say, the first time you’ve voiced it. “You were there. You saw what happened. We can’t drift anymore.”

“You couldn’t then,” he points out. “That was three years ago. You’ve both had a lot of time to…. You’ve both had a lot of time since then. Things that were once too painful to carry into the drift… they’ve had time to mellow.”

This blow knocks you into silence. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, eyes steadfastly on the warped wood of the desk, fingers toying absently with the Administrator’s pen. 

He’s wrong, and you want to tell him so. Nothing had mellowed. You love Seungcheol just as much today as you did three years ago. The splitting ache in your chest that you’ve felt every day since you became aware of loving him has only worked its way deeper with time. 

And Seungcheol’s anger? The anger and betrayal he’d leveled at you, when he was sure you were keeping him out of your head on purpose? You couldn’t speak for him, but if you had to guess, there weren’t enough years in a human life to let that hurt mellow into something safe enough to drift with.

“Have you talked to him about this?” You’re afraid of the answer. 

The Marshall hesitates. “Not yet.”

“You might want to do that first,” you point out. “Before flying me back only to have him refuse.” 

The Marshall’s voice hardens, and you can just picture his eyes narrowing. “Mr. Choi will follow orders,” he says evenly, “and so will you. Asking is really just a courtesy.”

“You can’t order us into being able to drift again,” you snap, pulse suddenly pounding in your arms, your hands, your face, your chest. 

“No,” the Marshall says, and any previous friendliness is gone from his voice now, “but I can - and will - order you to try.”

The girls cry when you tell them you’re leaving, and it makes you want to cry, too. You hold it together as you give them hugs, hold it together as you pack your single bag of belongings. You hold it together in the passenger seat of the center’s only beat-up van, waving out the back window as the training center fades away.

It’s standing on the deck of the ferry, the coast receding and the sea wind clawing at your face, that you let it go. You bury your face behind your hands and feel it release behind your ribs. You cry for all of it - for leaving the girls behind, for leaving a place that had sheltered you like a sanctuary. For the time you’d lost at the Dome, for the fights you’d sat out, for the years with your parents and friends that had slipped away like sand between your fingers. For your fear that Seungcheol will turn you away, just as hurt and angry as he was one thousand and ninety-five days ago. 

You’d been so determined to keep him from walking through the depths of your love for him, in the drift. You were so scared it would be too much, too intense, too much emotion for the drift. You’d been scared it would be too much for him - that the weight of it would inherently ask for more than he could give you in return. You’d been scared it would ruin your partnership, your compatibility, your capability to co-pilot.

But that had happened anyway. You almost have to laugh. 

As furiously as your tears begin, they peter out quickly. You take a few deep gulps of salty air, use the backs of your hands to wipe at your cheeks and beneath your nose. As you calm down, you keep your eyes on the horizon, your hands tight on the ship’s railing, and you let your mind wander back to Seungcheol. Here, thousands of miles away, you let yourself think back to those last weeks before you left the Shatterdome. You let yourself wonder, for the first time, what exactly caused everything to crumble.

You’d been so afraid to let Seungcheol into your head once the loving him had taken over. Why had it scared you so badly? As you keep your eyes on the grey of the horizon, you puzzle it out in your mind.

Had it been the uncertainty? That had certainly played a part. Did Seungcheol love you, back then? If he didn’t, everything between you could have changed - your friendship, your partnership, your ability to drift. It hadn’t seemed worth the risk to lose it all - his presence in your life, your ability to fight together. 

But maybe he had. If he did love you, back then… that would have changed things, too. What if starting something romantic affected your drift? There were too many maybes, too many variables. It had seemed safe to push it all down, to try and keep him away from it. To try and keep things the same.

Of course, you’d lost it all anyway.

Even if he did love you three years ago, you think as the sea air whips around you, did he love you the way you loved him? What if it had been too much - the way you could breathe once he was with you, the way you kept each other in check - what if he had loved you, but not that much?

Had it been a mistake to keep him out? Maybe. But it could have been just as catastrophic to let him in. There was no way to know, now.

You turn away from the ship’s railing, away from the horizon and the sea, away from your mistakes. There’s no use looking back like this. You can’t change it. You aren’t even sure you can fix it.

You were hoping to sleep on the plane, but you’re woefully awake well after take-off. Determined not to keep ruminating on what had happened before you left, instead you wonder what awaits you now.

The most-likely scenario, you think, professional and polite - but cold. Like you, he takes duty and responsibility seriously. The airplane bumps, a pocket of air jostling the small craft, and your hands find the armrests and cling tight until it stops.

The best case scenario, of course, would be that enough time has passed that Seungcheol’s hurt has faded. Maybe, you think, maybe he’s moved on from harboring that anger. Maybe he’ll greet you warmly, maybe you’ll pick up right where you left off.

This hope, this day-dream, aches, so much that you blink it away and turn to watch the clouds through the window, a desperate distraction. You crave Seungcheol - you crave feeling safe with his arms around you, you crave the elation you’d feel when he entered the room you were in, you crave the peace that comes with two minds engaged in neural handshake - the peace of someone’s mind interlaced with your own, understanding you, operating with you, picking up half of your mental lift.

You crave his giggle when you say something stupid in the dark of the dorm before bed, his pout when he feels like he isn’t getting enough attention, you crave his voice echoing in your head long after he’s gone asleep because you heard him talk to you all day long. 

You crave his lips on yours, his teeth on your neck, his hands on your body, even if you only had it once. You’ve craved it ever since.

You crave closing your eyes and pressing your forehead to his sternum, feeling safe and quiet and like you belong. You miss the sanctuary of that space, chest to chest with him, something sacred in the way it exists only for you.

You know you can’t have it - any of it. The daydream isn’t real. Your curse will be to crave it forever, alone.

When you arrive at the Shatterdome, it’s your parents who greet you just inside. For a moment, you’re happy to be back, overcome with emotion as you hug them tight. They’ve aged in these three years. You’ve missed them awfully. You only tell them the latter. 

They walk with you to the Marshall’s office, where you’re meant to report upon arrival. 

You hesitate, covering the moment by tugging your duffle’s strap higher on your shoulder. Your mother reads you anyway, reaching out and giving your shoulder a squeeze. 

“It will be okay,” she whispers. 

Your father catches on. “You’ve faced down worse,” he reasons. 

You disagree. There’s no monster in the sea bigger than your love for Seungcheol, no wounding possible that could hurt more than losing him has. But you appreciate the sentiment, so you give them each a grateful nod, tell them you’ll visit after dinner, and turn to knock on the door.

“Come in,” the Marshall’s voice carries through the door, and you turn the knob and step inside. 

All you see is Seungcheol; the Marshall, the office furniture, the flickering screens on the walls all snap into nonexistence in the presence of your former lover. He’s the only thing in the room that comes into focus. Everything else is just fuzzy noise.

His face wavers for a moment when your eyes meet his, the muscles rippling as he fights to get them under control. 

You don’t know what reaction he’s fighting. You don’t know if he’s feeling happiness or hatred. You don’t know if he’s fighting a smile or a scowl.

You give him a quick bow in greeting, and he returns it. His face is stone, now, his mouth tight and eyes flat. 

He turns to face the Marshall, to receive orders, so you do the same.

“I trust your travel went well?” the Marshall begins.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Even the single syllable of yes will come out of your mouth like gravel and dirt and sand, getting everywhere, leaving a trail.

“Your orders,” he says then, a bit of a sigh on his tone - as if he knows the uphill battle this will be, “are to reconnect as best you can. You’ll follow your old schedule. You’ll spar, you’ll meditate, and you’ll talk. After some time, we’ll try the drift again, see if the connection has recovered any.”

Seungcheol’s voice startles you when he speaks. “How long do you imagine it will be before we try?” he asks, just cold enough to have a sliver of sarcasm in it. 

The Marshall’s eyes narrow, just slightly, as if he’d caught it. “That’s entirely up to you two,” he says evenly. “When you were young and hungry to fight, you trained yourselves into exhaustion. You spent every waking second trying to cultivate the bond that would carry you into your jaeger. With the same intention and drive, I imagine you could be piloting Duellona within the week.”

You fight to keep your chin up, your eyes on the Marshall, instead of ducking your head and watching the floor. The Marshall lifts his arm and glances at his watch. 

“Your allotted time in Sparring Room 7 begins on the hour,” he says. This is his way of dismissing you.

In the hallway, you pause. “I’m just going to drop my bag in the dorm,” you say quietly, not looking at Seungcheol. 

He gives a tight nod. “Fine,” he says, and turns to go the other way, towards the sparring and training rooms. Clearly he intends to meet you there. You heave a deep breath, and turn back towards the wing with the dorms.

Stepping into the dorm you used to share with Seungcheol hits you harder than you thought it would. You’re not sure what you expected - to feel like coming home, maybe, or perhaps to be slapped with the memories of you and Seungcheol together, dancing around each other as you hurried to get dressed for a drop, lazing around in the sitting area after a full day of training. And, of course, the single night you’d spent together.

Neither thing happens. You aren’t overcome by a feeling of nostalgia and love, nor are you inundated by memories of what you’ve lost. Instead, the room feels exactly as it is: empty and still.

Your footsteps’ echoes taunt you as you walk through the kitchen, the sitting area, and into the bedroom. It’s pristine to the point of detriment; it feels like no one lives there. You set your bag on the floor near the foot of the bed - you can unpack later, after training - and turn to go.

Strangely, it’s stepping into the training room that slams you with memory and nostalgia. The wood cool beneath your feet, the vague smell of sweat and citrus-y cleaner, the sounds of punches landing and grunts of effort from the training rooms on either side - they all cocoon you in history, making goosebumps rise on your arms as the emotions surround you.

It makes sense, you think, as Seungcheol glances over his shoulder at the sound of your arrival. He doesn’t speak to you, just swaggers to the center of the room and takes a stance you recognize from Form One. Your body leads you opposite him, muscle memory guiding you into the first form you ever learned with him. It makes sense that this would be what felt like home - your minds going empty together, your bodies following the steps in unison. The sparring forms are the closest you can get to drifting without an actual neural connection.

Well, that and sleeping together, but you don’t see that on your agenda.

You stare at him across the invisible circle between you and try to read him. His face is cold and empty, but that already tells you so much about what he’s feeling. Seungcheol was never cold with you. When you fought together he slipped into that mode you loved so much - ready to level anything, chin lifted, eyes narrowed, confident and so very strong. But it was when you were together outside the fights that you had loved him best - often pouting, lips protruding, voice lifting into a whine. And the best of all - that smile, dimples creating shadows that beg for your thumb to press them, eyes squeezing shut with happiness or laughter.

Something must show on your face, because you watch the muscles in Seungcheol’s upper body untense, as if he’d been ready to fight and recognized that you weren’t.

“I’m good,” you mutter quickly, before he can ask. It feels better to lie to him before he actually asks you, like that’s somehow less dishonest. “Let’s go.”

Form One is basic - no hits, no fancy moves. At the training center, you’d teach it to the littlest ones until they had it memorized. It was really about control and communication - precision and alignment with your partner. You had to breathe together as your feet traced opposite circles across the knots in the wooden floor. You had to rise and bend in unison. It was about watching and listening.

You and Seungcheol could - literally, you’d tried more than once - do it blindfolded in perfect step with one another. Before. You don’t know if you still can. But, now, unblindfolded, it’s too easy.

You move through forms one through six without incident - both of you flowing as easily as water.

Form Seven is the first form that incorporates actual hits and blocks. You’ll have to touch for the first time, even if it’s forearm to forearm or ankle to shoulder. You move right as he moves left, crouch and circle as his right foot flies over your head, stand and punch where you know his open hand will be waiting to stop you.

It is, and you press your fist against it for just a second before spinning away to continue the form. You ache, even as your body continues following the steps, to have him entirely again - to meet his eyes and smile the way you both used to, because you were pleased with what your bodies could do. Because you had each other, completely.

After the tenth form, you bow, turn, and walk out of the ring. You drink some water, your back to him. Years ago you’d have used this break to chat, but you don’t know what to say to him. You’re scared that he’ll shut down anything you say, whether you choose small talk or go straight for the heart of the problem, and you honestly don’t think you can shoulder his rejection right now. So you stay quiet.

After a few short minutes of rest, you return to the center of the room. This is when you’ll spar for real.

You and Seungcheol had done this for years before things went wrong. You’d long ago adjusted to how hard you should hit, how to dodge his moves, how to make this a dance as much as a fight. Now, you feel like it’s your first time again.

Seungcheol attacks as you’d expect - all offensive, pushy, succeeding in herding you backwards even as you dodge each blow. You know his goal is to flip you, and normally you can avoid that by forcing him to go on the defensive as he avoids your own hits. Simply dodging won’t be enough - eventually he’ll cage you in unless you distract him.

You throw yourself into a summersault and manage to get behind him - an opportune moment to strike. You shift your weight to follow the blow as you twist your hips to send a kick towards his unprotected head. He turns just too late - the blow will land.

You can’t do it. You freeze, your core working to keep you upright as you fight your own momentum, halting the kick inches from his temple.

You know immediately that pulling the hit was a mistake. His eyes narrow, and he sweeps his foot at the ankle you’re balancing on. You crash to the ground, heaving a breath and taking quick inventory.

You aren’t hurt. Not this time.

“Get up, Cherry,” he says darkly, moving back to the center to start again. “And don’t do that shit again.”

He comes at you full force in the next match, too. You dodge and weave, but you don’t try to strike. You know he knows it; this isn’t how it used to work. You can almost feel him get angrier as you fight, but you can’t make yourself hit back. You want him to knock you down, you deserve to take some shots.

You take two blows to the back and one to a shoulder; you fall back unsteadily but manage to find your footing and roll away from his next kick.

The match continues - you taking a handful of blows, though none with the force to level you, and Seungcheol with his lip curled in fury.

“If you’re not going to fight, then leave,” he spits.

“Would if I could,” you retort without thinking. You mean that you don’t want to be here like this - not talking, cold, at odds. But you know it reads as not wanting to be here at all.

It seems like everything you say and do only hurts him more.

“I didn’t mean -” you start, and Seungcheol takes your arms and flips you over his shoulders.

“Don’t waste my fucking time,” he says, brushing his hands together and stepping back to give you room to pick yourself up.

“Don’t curse at me,” you answer, pushing yourself to your hands and knees, pausing to catch your breath before rising fully again.

He shakes his head, rolls his eyes a little.

You hate this side of him.

You know you deserve it. For pushing him out. For leaving him here. For loving him, messing everything up, when he never asked for that.

“Seungcheol,” you say, but he ignores you, pacing a few steps and then turning to face you, lowering himself into a defensive stance, ready to spar again.

“Cheol,” you try again. “Listen to me.”

“Marshall scheduled us time to talk later,” he says flatly. “Right now we’re scheduled to fight. So fight me, Cherry. Let’s go.”

The rest of the hour continues the same. By the time it’s over, Seungcheol storms out without speaking to you, furious over every single pulled punch.

You don’t know what to do to make it all better.

You shower quickly, dressing in dry linens, and then re-emerge for the hours you’re scheduled to meditate together. You hope that maybe this will help the situation - maybe not talking will be good for you, give you a chance to feel your connection without the chance to fuck it up with words.

You’re wrong; trying to meditate together is just as desperately fruitless as sparring had been.

You can’t focus at all - can’t shift your attention to your breath, to your body, to the earth beneath you, to the energy of your partner.

Your partner is the distraction, though he sits perfectly still, eyes closed. He might as well be yelling. His shoulders are tight, his jaw still clenched. Anger radiates off him so strongly that it makes your stomach hurt, makes you want to cower from it. You can’t stop watching him, hoping you’ll see him relax, hoping you’ll see the moment that he lets go.

He doesn’t.

“Your eyes are supposed to be closed,” he murmurs, and you feel your face heat, embarrassed that he knew you were watching him.

“I can’t,” you admit. Maybe, you think, you should just be brutally honest, starting now. It’s not like you could make this worse. “I can’t stop noticing how angry -”

“Then stop pissing me off,” he snaps, eyes opening. “Just a suggestion.”

“Don’t talk to me like that!” you cry, and push yourself to stand. You’re not sure why - maybe just to pace. “You never used to talk to me like this. Who are you?”

He looks at the floor, the first sign of guilt you’ve seen since you came home.

“Fine,” he finally bites back, and you know it’s as close to sorry as you’ll get. “I’ll reign it in. Sit back down.”

You shift your weight, arms crossed defensively across your chest, and close your eyes, deciding.

“Sit down, Cherry,” he repeats, and it’s gentler now. That’s what makes you cave, and you settle back across from him.

He’s less tense this time, so you eventually manage to close your eyes and count your breaths. But you’re still feeling for him, reaching for him in your mind, and coming up with nothing between you fingers. Touching him is as possible as touching the fog that used to blanket the training center, thick enough to blind you but impossible to grasp.

The pain feels like a cramp, except it’s behind your ribs instead of in your muscles. The pain grips and tightens, takes over. You want him, you want to be his again, you want to be inside these walls - where you used to fit comfortably. The fact that you’re out here, without him, aches so badly it makes you nauseated.

You want to beg him - let me in again, let me back in, let me be close to you again.

It won’t do any good, and you know it.

He was yours - you had him, you knew him, you could reach out to him and he’d pick you up. You’d taken it for granted, and you’d run away from it. You’d chosen to let it go, and now all you get is this: Seungcheol, cold and closed. Seungcheol, hating you for everything that happened.

—

Dinner is just as bad.

You go to the mess hall eager to see Wylie and Jeonghan and Seungkwan and all the other friends you haven’t seen in years. Wylie screeches like a banshee when she spots you, crossing the mess hall in a blur and hugging you so tightly that you both stagger, off balance, until Seungkwan joins the hug and rights you again.

“I missed you both so much,” you whisper, the only vulnerability anyone’s going to get out of you today.

“Then don’t leave again!” Wylie snaps, but you know the admonishment is full of love.

“I can’t promise,” you admit. Honestly, you’ve already made up your mind - you want to go back to Alaska. You’re not wanted here, not by the person who matters. What good are you, taking up a bed, if you can’t drift?

You’ve already given up hope that he’ll come around.

Seated at the table, you listen while your friends fill you in on what you’ve missed in three years - the fights in the bay, the new teams of pilots, the illnesses and injuries. You almost don’t notice Seungcheol silently takes a seat on Jeonghan’s other side, but something in you prickles, like you’ve sensed him.

The tension around the table heightens; the conversation goes a little stilted. When it’s apparent that he’s going to ignore you two seats down from him, Wylie slaps her hand flat on the tabletop.

“Come on, Seungcheol,” she scolds, and you’re sure no one wonders what she means.

His face goes dark so quickly it’s alarming. “Don’t,” he tells her darkly, one finger coming up to point at her in warning.

Her own eyes narrow and dart to her fork. Beside her, Chan’s eyes pingpong between them. He’s probably wondering if he should hold her back or join her.

“It’s fine,” you mutter, grabbing your tray and making to rise. “I’ll go.”

“Cherry, no,” Wylie protests, and then turns a glower onto your ex-co-pilot as if to say see what you did?

“It’s fine,” you repeat, standing. “I told my mom and dad I’d come by.”

You slink out before anyone else can argue.

You can’t even be mad at him - you did this by pushing him away. You hammered every last nail in the coffin by requesting to transfer. You pushed him out and you left him behind and now you have to face the reality that you can’t have him anymore. He isn’t yours, not anymore.

When you return to your dorm, he’s already in bed, the lights out. He’s facing the wall so you can only see his back, can only see the angry, tight shoulder poking out the top of the sheets. It tells you everything you need to know.

You don’t try to talk to him. You just go to bed.

—

You spend four days identically - fighting while sparring, not meditating, and avoiding Seungcheol’s ice-out. On the fifth day, your Marshall loses patience and changes your schedule. Your entire day is blocked to working on Duellona’s mainframe - buffing, repainting, greasing, and anything else you’re able to handle on your own.

“Since you can’t do anything else useful,” he adds, and you avoid Seungcheol’s eyes, ashamed.

Standing under Duellona’s unlit frame fills you with guilt. It feels like you’re letting her down, disappointing her by letting her rust here, failing your half of the bargain. You run your hands gently over the metal, finding the rough spots that need attention. Somewhere to your left, you can hear the telltale sounds of Seungcheol tightening bolts.

You work in silence for hours.

Eventually, you crack. You’re not sure if it’s the monotony of the task, the tension woven into the silence between you too, or being so close to your jaeger but unable to fight in it - maybe a combination. Something pushes at you from the inside, like a balloon trying to inflate under your skin and running out of room.

You flop backwards on the metal walkway, the grooves digging into your back. “What are we doing?” you ask, and you hear the tool Seungcheol had been using cling loudly as he sets it down.

“Following orders?” he says, stepping around Duellona’s side to look at you. “Fixing up the jaeger?”

“Fixing up the jaeger we don’t get to pilot?” you ask, sitting back up to look at him better.

“Is that what you’re here for?” he asks, the sudden ferocity of it surprising you. “To fight? Is that why you came back?”

You reach up to the walkway’s railing and pull yourself up. You feel yourself frowning at his question, at the heat behind it. 

“I’m back because the Marshall gave me an order,” you say slowly. 

“And that’s it?” he demands. 

You stare at him. You feel sure there’s more to the question, more that he’s asking. You feel sure, after knowing Choi Seungcheol down to the last molecule, that he’s really asking, you didn’t come back for me?

And it confuses you. You try to think about your split from his perspective: you’d shut him out, then slept with him, and then vanished. You’d made a lot of assumptions about his anger since then. You assumed he was angry at you for pushing him out of your head. You assumed he was angry at you for sleeping with him and then leaving. You assumed he was angry with you for ruining your drift, for ripping him away from the ability to fight. You assumed he was angry because he never knew why - never knew what it was that you were so desperate to hide, never knew why sleeping together had made things so much worse that the neural connection had fizzled into nothing altogether.

Is there more to it, his anger?

Should you call him on it, should you ask?

You take too long deciding. Seungcheol scoffs, like he’s disgusted with you. “I should have known,” he says coldly. “Princess of the Shatterdome, I should have known you only cared about piloting - about your legacy.”

This is something you’ve never said to him - that your desire to shine as brightly as your parents has weighed on you. This is something he’d pulled from the drift, something he only knew from tiptoeing around your mind before a fight. 

“That isn’t fair,” you say, your voice hard. “Is there another reason I should have come back? I’d love to hear it.”

He hears the challenge as it is - you didn’t ask me to come back, the Marshall did. You let me go.

He has nothing to say for himself, just stares back at you, eyes narrowed in anger, chest moving too quickly as he battles with his temper.

“Exactly,” you say curtly. The victory stings. It doesn’t feel like a win at all. “The bottom line is I’m here now, and we can pilot again if we can get our shit together.”

He shakes his head. “You left,” he says finally. “That’s the bottom line. You decided you were out, you decided you didn’t want me in your head, and then you left.”

He watches you, waits for you to say something. When you don’t, he lets out a derisive little laugh. “We’re both wasting our time here. The drift won’t work. We aren’t going to fix it.”

For the first time, fear slices through you like steel. “You can’t know that,” you say. You hear the fear in the way your voice comes out low and rounded, barely sounding like you at all.

“I can,” he retorts. “You know how I know? Because I don’t want to. You wanted me out of your head so badly? You got it. Can’t turn back now.”

He heads for the ladder, swings around and finds the third rung down with ease.

“So that’s it?” you ask his retreating form. Your heart is hammering and you’re starting to get tunnel vision. 

The only answer he gives you are his feet hitting each new rung with a clunk and a vibration that rattles up your legs.

—

You go to the training rooms alone and run through the forms just to do something; your mind turns the problem over and over as your body goes through the motions. After, you take a longer shower than normal, letting the water run hotter than you normally would.

After, you go to the Marshall’s office, determined. Or maybe resigned.

When he opens the door, he already looks irritated, like he knew exactly who would be on the other side.

“Requesting an audience,” you say flatly, fighting the instinct to cross your arms defensively.

He glances at his watch. “Five minutes.”

You step inside but leave the door open.

“I’m requesting transfer back to Alakanuk,” you tell him as evenly as you can manage. You’re sure he’s not surprised. “Seungcheol has made it very clear that we won’t be fighting together again. If that’s the case, then I can’t do anything useful here. But in Alakanuk I can.”

You pause, looking to see if you can read anything on the Marshall’s face - any hint that he’s considering what you’re saying, or that it’s a lost cause. He gives you nothing.

“Please,” you say. “Those girls need me. If I can’t help here, I can help them.”

The Marshall tilts his head just slightly. “Surely anyone can teach little girls the forms.”

You shake your head. “It’s more than that, and you know it. It’s not about the forms. I love those girls. I came back here to follow orders, and I tried. But if it isn’t going to happen… Please, don’t make me waste time here if I can be with them instead.”

The silence when you stop speaking seems to last for hours. Your heart pounds, and you work on keeping your breathing even. If he tells you no, you might just lose it, just give up entirely.

Finally, he takes a breath and seems to consider you. “If,” he says, and your eyes widen with hope, “your co-pilot agrees, then I will reassign you back to Alaska. But only if he will agree.”

“No problem,” you say quickly. Seungcheol was the one who said it was over. He should have no problem letting you leave.

When you step out of the Marshall’s office, Seungcheol steps out of the shadows. You should be surprised to see him, but in the Shatterdome it feels right that he just is wherever you are. That’s always how it was, before.

You look at him disdainfully. “I assume you heard that conversation?”

He nods, once.

“So?” you ask. “Will you tell him you approve, so I can go?”

For the first time since you returned, Seungcheol smiles, tight and sarcastic.

“No,” he says easily, like it’s kind of funny.

Fury erupts inside you; you can’t even pinpoint where in your body it stems from. “Why?” you demand. “Because you feel like I took something from you, so you want to take something from me?”

He doesn’t respond to this. You know you’re right. You know him. You know his mind.

“I hate to fuck up your narrative,” you spit at him, “but I’ve lost out here just as much as you have. You’re not the only one who lost the ability to fight. You’re not the only one who lost their partner.”

You wish you could tell him the rest - you’re not the one who spent three years with a broken heart on top of it. He had lost you as a partner and a friend - you had lost him in the same ways, and you’d had to harbor your broken heart.

He shakes his head. “Poor baby,” he bites sarcastically, and then takes off down the hallway, into the dark.

—

You stop sleeping at the dorm. Sometimes you sleep at your parents’, sometimes on Wylie and Chan’s tiny couch, sometimes in bed with Seungkwan, who kicks at you and whines that you take up too much space. Sometimes you sleep inside Duellona Fury, sitting up, your back against her metal frame.

The Marshall seems to have taken some pity on you. He schedules your mornings training the Dome’s recruits, and lets Seungcheol get back to what he was doing in your absence - which seems to be on track to move up in rank, to maybe become a Marshall himself, someday. It isn’t quite the same as being back with your girls, but training recruits feels at least somewhat fulfilling. And it keeps you and Seungcheol busy - separately - until afternoon.

Then, he schedules you to spar.

In your first week, you’d been unwilling to hit Seungcheol. You’d been feeling guilty for hurting him, sad for your time apart, hopeful that if you were soft to him, then he’d be soft back to you.

Now, you’re fucking furious.

For the first time, when the match begins, you hit him first. He’s surprised for only a second, eyebrows shooting up as he stumbles for balance, and then you watch something delighted and devilish fall over his face. Like he knows exactly what dance this is, and he’s been learning the steps in secret.

The match is brutal, reminiscent of your very first one, when you were both nineteen. You throw hit after hit his way; he blocks or dodges all of them. But he can’t get a hit on you either - you’re too quick, spurred on by fury. You’ve been angry in a fight before. But you’ve never been angry at him.

You spin and throw up a kick, expecting his forearm to rise and block it. Instead, you knock him in the jaw.

He grunts, hand flying up to cover his mouth, and you drop your stance with a gasp.

“Shit!” you cry, hurrying closer. “I’m so sorry! Are you bleeding? Let me look.”

“‘M fine,” he mutters thickly from behind his hand, but you ignore him. For a second, things are how they used to be between you. He lets you peel his hand away, lets you gingerly turn his head this way and that, even opens up so you can check his teeth.

“You’re gonna have a fat lip,” you tell him regretfully. “But nothing’s bleeding. Teeth look okay. Anything loose in there?”

He pokes around his teeth with his pinky. “Nope.”

You take a step back, cowed. “I’m really sorry.”

He laughs a little, wryly. “I bet you feel better, though.”

You bite back a smile. “Actually…” you say, and he laughs again. You both do.

Somehow, this seems to be the thing that cracks the anger you’ve both been encased in, unable to move forward or backward. You feel melted, and you wonder if he feels freer now, too.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you say. You mean the kick, but the words land heavy.

He avoids your gaze. “I need some water,” he says, turning and heading to the side of the room.

You do the same, sitting heavily on the bench where your water waits for you.

“Hey,” he says, and you look over, brows raised in anticipation. “Tell me about Alaska.”

You can’t help but smile.

“It’s so beautiful,” you tell him. “God, Cheol, the ocean there. And the birds, and the snow…”

He’s watching you, listening, but while he listens he stands and heads to the center of the ring, settling into a starting form. With a small smile, you follow, standing opposite him. He starts an easy match that’s mostly just following the eighth form. It includes some hits and blocks, but you both do them gently, easily, circling each other slowly.

“So you liked it?” he asks. You can hear how hard he’s working to make it sound casual.

“It was so beautiful,” you admit before ducking below a kick. “But it was also… really hard.”

“What was the best part?” he asks.

You smile, block a hit. He almost gets his hands on you for a flip, but you dodge around behind him. He turns to follow you. “Weirdly, it was taking care of them outside of class. We - the instructors - we kind of their moms, away from home, you know? I’m the one who knew Yejin won’t sleep unless someone sits by her bed for a while. I’m the one that knew that Farrah and Salome only argue because they’re competitive. I’m the one that knew that Maria and Anjali don’t know their times-tables, that Ximena can’t brush her own hair, or that Iseul is allergic to fish. I loved them. I loved knowing them.”

He looks at you for a long time. “Maybe you should go back,” he says finally.

It feels like a trap. 

You look at the floor, at the wall, then finally back at him. “If you’ll do this for real,” you say carefully, “then I’d rather be here. If we’re actually trying, then I don’t want to go.”

He’s quiet for a long time. Finally, he swallows hard, not looking at you.

“What was the worst part?”

There’s only one answer.

“Missing you,” you say. “Losing you.”

He manages to get both of your arms and hauls you over his shoulders. You land on your back so hard that the air is knocked out of your lungs and your eyes close protectively. For a second, you lay there panting, waiting for the pain in your back to settle down, waiting for the stars behind your eyelids to calm.

When you open them again, the ceiling coming into focus above you, the room is empty.

–

You have a hunch on where you can find him, and you head to the jaeger bay. Sure enough, he’s sitting below Duellona, knees to his chest, staring up at her.

You sit next to him and he doesn’t get up and leave, which you take as a good sign.

“I can’t do this if you’re not all in,” he tells you without looking at you. “You walked away from me once. I can’t let you back in my head if there’s any possibility you’ll walk away again. If you’re with me, I need you to be with me.”

Something prickles in the back of your head. You feel like you’re starting to realize something - the seed of an understanding is pushing delicately through the dirt, but hasn’t yet spread out its leaves under the warmth of the sun yet.

Something about his hurt. Something about why.

“I think we should try to drift,” you tell him.

This seems to startle him - he forgets to be cold, turns to look at you, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“I can tell you how much I missed you,” you reason, “and tell you about how I spent every minute just… steeped in regret. Or we can walk through it - you can see for yourself.”

You know what you’re risking. If he gets into your head now, he’ll see it all - he’ll know everything, he’ll be able to feel for himself the depth of your loss, the height of your love. 

But what’s the harm, now? You can’t lose him twice. Maybe it’ll be enough for him to realize you hadn’t left him because you didn’t care about him. Maybe it’ll be enough for his forgiveness. 

Maybe then, he’ll tell the Marshall to let you go back to Alakanuk. 

It’s Seungkwan you bother, since he’d been in mission control before finding his team of co-pilots. The sideways look he gives you as he walks to your conn pod is withering, but you know better than to take it personally.

You buzz with nerves. The last time you’d tried this, the neural handshake hadn’t even connected. There had just been nothing.

The second you hear neural handshake initiating, you almost sob with relief. You can’t even pay attention to the memories - Seungcheol’s memories - floating around you; you want to collapse, to press your palms to the ground and thank the universe for letting you back in.

His first memories are a breeze - the ones you’ve jogged through together hundreds of times: his first home, his school, his father’s hospital room, the Dome. Then you slow your pace, because this is new.

You’re facing the landing dock on the Shatterdome’s roof. Seungcheol stands with his back to you, watching through the glass walls as a helicopter waits, the pilot talking into his headset.

You watch yourself walk towards the chopper’s open door. You watch yourself leave, remember how hard it was to not look back.

You hadn’t known that Seungcheol had been there, that he had seen you go.

The pain that accompanies the memory hits you like you’re drowning, like it’s too deep and you can’t feel the bottom, and you feel the machinery falter around you.

“Hey,” you say quietly. “I’m with you.”

He nods, still doesn’t look at you. But the beeping stops, the connection holding. 

There’s knowledge in this memory, knowledge in this pain. Seungcheol’s thoughts in this moment read in your head as clearly as if he said them aloud - I did this. I pushed her too far; I made her run.

You can’t stay here, can’t let him wallow in the memory of pain. You had to move forward - that’s how the drift works. Reluctantly you step towards the door, glancing over your shoulder to see if he’s following. 

He is. His jaw is tight and fists are clenched, but he is.

When the next memory - not in order of chronology, clearly - appears before you, you want to vanish into the floor. You’re watching yourselves in Seungcheol’s bed. Thankfully, you’re sleeping - this was after. But in the memory, Seungcheol is awake, laying on his side, his eyes drinking in your sleeping form.

The emotions and the knowledge come with it in an instant. The tenderness and the love he felt in that moment surround you now in the memory, unignorable, impossible to mistake. 

He had loved you. He had known you loved him, and he was showing you how he felt. The understanding slams you so hard that you think you stop breathing.

“Seungcheol,” you whisper. Around you, the scene begins to flicker, the connection starting to react to the oversaturation of emotion.

“We can talk about it after,” he says, voice hard. “Don’t stay in it. Find the next door.”

Your eyes find the door, but you feel frozen. You want the connection to drop, you want to unlock yourself from the stupid drive-suit and throw yourself into his arms, you want to apologize for leaving him thinking he’d pushed you away, thinking that he scared you into running.

“Cherry,” he warns. “The drift can’t -”

You know. 

And you owe him your side of the story.

You take a steeling breath and head for the door. You don’t take his hand. You don’t know if you deserve to, if he’d want you to.

When you step through the doors, you’re confused - you’re still in your dorm. Your bodies are both in the bed.

Now, though, Seungcheol sleeps, and you - the memory of you - sits on the edge of the bed, your head in your hands. 

You feel the emotion the memory holds, which means Seungcheol does, too.

Fear. It’s still fear - fear that he’ll know, fear that what you just did together will make it worse, make it harder to hide. 

Beside you, Seungcheol’s eyes go wide. 

“We have to move on,” you tell him. He looks at you, then back at the memory. 

“You -?” he starts to ask.

“After,” you tell him firmly. “We’ll talk after.”

You open the door, and you’re suddenly outside, surrounded by white.

Alaska.

The emotion knocks you over with the fury of an ocean wave - even though you know you’re not supposed to let it. This was how you had felt every day that you were gone, and it screams at you now, determined to be heart, determined to be felt. The loneliness, the regret, the despair and heartbreak all rise up in you, overtaking you, as snow falls gently and silently around you.

And the love. That never went away. That never mellowed, as the Marshall had put it.

If he didn’t know before, he has to know now. There’s no way he couldn’t.

Seungcheol squeezes your hand, and you almost jump. You look down at your linked fingers in shock, then up at him, eyes wide.

“We should go back and talk about this,” he tells you, but his grip on you is firm, assuring.

“Okay. It’s this way,” you tell him, trying to breathe, and you lead him by the hand through the snow. The fog strengthens as you walk, until you can’t see anything but grey, can’t see anything but Seungcheol’s hand in yours.

You continue on. You know where to go. When you step through, the fog vanishes as if it was never there, nothing gradual about it. With the fog gone, you can see clearly where you are - inside Duellona Fury’s conn-pod.

As you begin to work on the straps, you call through the intercom, “Kwan? We… need some privacy. We’ve got to talk - alone.”

His voice crackles back at you. “Yes, I’m leaving, I’m already gone. If you hear popcorn crunching, no you don’t.”

Seungcheol gives you a flat look. “Let’s go home and talk,” he suggests.

Home.

You are so afraid and so hopeful. You don’t know how to juggle both.

Back in your small living space, you sit like you’re meditating.

“Let’s figure this out,” he says. “No lies.”

“No lies,” you agree. Your knees touch, and you reach to take his hands. He lets you, giving your fingers a squeeze.

“You knew,” you say first, bordering on accusation. “I was trying so hard to hide how I felt about you… but you knew.”

He nods, his eyes on you. “And you,” he says slowly, “didn’t… know? That I knew?”

You shake your head, confirming. “I didn’t know. I thought I hid it.”

He smiles at you, a little placating. “Not as well as you would have liked.”

“And you…” You chicken out, swallow, force yourself to be brave. “You… loved me, too?”

He nods. “I did.” 

The air leaves your lungs so forcefully that you bend over, pressing your forehead to the tops of your hands. He pulls his hands from yours and you feel his touch, firm and reassuring, cupping your shoulders and rubbing his thumbs along them.

“We felt the same,” you echo into your shins. “You loved me.”

“Cherry,” he says above you, his voice like a plea. “I don’t understand why - when we… when I… I felt like once I forced you to look at it, it was too much. You ran.”

You sit with this for a minute, stunned and processing. His hands are back in yours, which you take as a good sign. 

“You thought… wait. You thought, after that night, that I knew how you felt, too?”

He nods. “I thought you knew,” he says, confusion still present in his tone. “I thought we both knew. I thought if it was out in the open, the glitch in the drift would be fixed.”

You wipe at your face, trying to breathe. “And instead,” you realize, “we couldn’t even connect, because I was still trying to hide it from you, and then you were hurt. I thought it was broken. I thought we really broke it forever.”

He looks at you in wonder. “That’s why you left,” he breathes, and you know he’s understanding this for the first time. “You thought we made the problem worse.”

It’s your turn to nod. “After we…I mean, I knew if I couldn’t hide it from you before that night, there was no chance I’d be able to hide it after. I kept you out in the first place because I… was afraid. I was afraid for you to see how much I loved you. It seemed… hopeless to keep trying.”

The words lay bloody between you, but his grip on your hands is strong, and you take another breath.

You push on, adding, “I was afraid it would be too much. I was afraid everything would change.”

Which it did, you think. He nods, like he hears this, like he agrees.

He releases you and leans back, blowing out a loud breath. “We’re so fucking stupid,” he says, and you splutter out a laugh.

“We really are.”

“I can’t believe we lost three years over that,” he says.

“I can’t believe you thought it was your fault that I left.”

“I can’t believe you left in the first place.”

This makes you smile, guilty. “That’s fair.”

You push yourself to stand; Seungcheol mirrors you, as if you’re already in the neural handshake, bodies working in tandem. 

“Cherry,” he says quietly, stepping closer. “It could never be too much. I love you. I’m crazy about you. I’m only me when I’m with you.”

You remember him, the night you’d slept together, telling you, don’t be afraid. He’d told you, after all, and you’d missed it entirely.

You close the distance between your bodies and kiss him hard. His arms circle your waist immediately, like they were waiting for you. He kisses you back hungrily. His mouth meets yours eagerly, his tongue stroking yours confidently before he shifts his attention to your jaw, your neck, then your mouth again. His hands don’t wander this time - instead he holds you so firmly it almost hurts, like he won’t let you move an inch, won’t let you out of his grasp ever again.

You cradle his face between your hands, let your teeth gently scrape along his bottom lip. “Cheol,” you whisper, then kiss him again. “You’re everything.” It’s what you should have said aloud the night you’d slept with him.

When the kiss breaks, he presses his lips to the top of your head and holds them there, melting around you a little. You give his middle a squeeze, revel in his heartbeat surrounding you like music.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I didn’t just say it.”

“Me too,” you tell him, holding him just a little tighter. “I should never have tried to hide it from you in the first place.”

He kisses your temple, and you hold each other, silently, each grappling with the time you’d wasted apart. 

You’re interrupted by a knock. You break apart, puzzled. You’re even more puzzled to see your Marshall at the door, and Seungkwan literally bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement.

“I’ve heard your drift is working again,” the Marshall says dryly. 

You look over your shoulder at Seungcheol, grinning. “Seems like it.”

“There’s a Cat-1 reading in the bay. I was about to alarm for Pretty Savage to drop, but Savage’s team insisted I give you the opportunity first. They can follow as backup. How do you feel?”

Seungcheol is at your side. He looks at you, his face open and raw. “Well?” he asks you. “Are you in, or are you out?”

“I’m in,” you tell him seriously. “I’m with you.”

You thrum with excitement as a tech team helps strap you into the drive-suits, and you can’t help but shoot Seungcheol a wild grin, your happiness alive and unbounded. 

You tell mission control - Nainsi, probably, just like the old days - “Ready and aligned.”

Mission Control - definitely Nainsi - responds, “Prepare for neural handshake.”

The artificial voice bounces around you - 3… 2… 1… neural handshake initiating…

Around you, the machines flicker busily. Neural handshake strong and holding. Now calibrating…

You’re crying, but you ignore it. You beam through tears, looking sideways at your co-pilot. His eyes dance as he smiles back at you. You want to unstrap yourself to the drivesuit and go kiss his dimples, the dimples you hadn’t seen in years. You resist the urge.

“Ready to drop?”  He looks sideways at you, sly. 

You scoff at him, your own grin cocky and sure, like you’re twenty again, like nothing had ever been broken between you. “Been ready. Let’s light ‘em up.”

– end

thank you so much for reading!!!!

stay tuned for more fics in this universe! Wylie and Chan will get their own fic written by @sailorrhansol, as will Woozi! I'm also planning a Vernon x Reader in this universe, too! Should be a fun time!!

[youraverageaemondsimp]

Metanoia ;

Aemond Targaryen x Transmigrated!Strong!Reader

>> Chapter I : The Beginning.

Summary: "Be careful what you wish for" is what everyone says, you realise that you should've taken them seriously when you find yourself reincarnated as a character in the show who never existed.

WARNINGS: CANON TYPICAL INCEST, CONTAINS SPOILERS OF F&B, S1 AND S2, reader's appearance isn't described, only the fact that she is a strong, you can imagine her however you like, the picture used in the header is only to capture the feel of the story. A/N: divider credits to @cafekitsune

masterlist // next

“Jesus Christ, fuck this show, fuck everything, what the fuck is wrong with the writing?” You exclaim in annoyance after witnessing the scene that was supposed to be heavily impactful be butchered.

“That is the most anticlimactic death scene I've ever witnessed, this has to be a joke.” You furiously ramble. You decided to give House of The Dragon a try after your friend had recommended it, the show currently has released three seasons, with the fourth season in production, you thoroughly enjoyed season one and decided to binge all the seasons.

However, everything started to go downhill from season two, yet you still decided to watch for the sake of your favourite characters, daemon and aemond, only to witness the battle that was supposed to be intense and stressful get finished in the span of two minutes.

You stared at the screen, rolling your eyes in annoyance as you witnessed Aemond falling into the lake along with Vhagar, Daemon was knocked off Caraxes too and fell to his death.

They wrapped up the battle in mere moments, which made you angry as you were so hyped up to see them fight.

“Ugh, I never hated a show more than this, waste of my time, they did season one so well, what happened to rest? I did not expect this.” You sigh in frustration, feeling like you just wasted your time.

“If only… If only I ever get a chance, I'd change entire plot and script because fuck this.” You lay down on your sofa, staring at the ceiling, the show still playing in the background. You recollected the entire plot in your head, thinking of every moment in the show, trying to come up with an easy solution.

“If only they had married Jace to Helaena, it would have been peaceful.. Or at least if they had an older daughter married to Aegon or Aemond.” You mumble, but then shake your head, “What am I saying? Things still would've been complicated anyway.” You wonder in disbelief at your own words.

You yawned loudly, stretching out your limbs and blinking your eyes rapidly, your vision began to get blurry and you sighed in content, finally willingly wanting to sleep after you forced yourself to stay up all night to binge the series.

Your vision darkened slowly as you closed your eyelids, head spinning as you took slow breaths of air, cool breeze brushes past your cheeks and before you know it, you're slowly succumbing into slumber.

You blink your eyes open, realising you fell asleep, you sigh stirring on the soft sheets, entangling them between your legs.

Soft sheets?

Your sofa doesn't have any sheets.

You quickly blink again, taking the note of a translucent veil hanging from above, surrounding the bed you're in, creating a curtain around your bed.

Why were you in bed?

You sit up looking around, taking in your surroundings, your eyes widening in fear as you don't recognize this room at all, ancient tapestries, brown wooden furniture, and the source of light being only from the candle.

Have you been kidnapped?

You look down at your body, noticing you are in a white nightgown instead of the shorts you fell asleep in. Your heart begins to race and you panic, unable to understand where you are or how you got there. You steady your breathing, wondering if someone kidnapped you to play a role in a mediaeval film of theirs? But why would anyone do that?

The sound of metal clanking harshly against the floor and a small scream made your head turn the direction it came from, the liquid in the decanter spilling out rapidly as the person behind the fallen cutlery stood in shock.

“The princess is conscious!” She yells loudly before turning around and running out of the room in a hurry.

Princess?

Is this a prank?

You barely have any moment to think when you hear the sound of multiple footsteps coming from outside to your direction, you could almost feel the ground rumbling, noting that everyone was rushing to this room.

You push the veil to the side and stand up, getting out the bed and examining your surroundings, looking at the sigils and the paintings. All of this looked familiar somehow.

A small gasp echoed through the room, coming from the entrance, which made you turn around to take a look at who was in the room once again. Your eyes widened at the sight.

A lady with platinum blonde hair, blue eyes stood in front of you, someone who resembled Rhaenyra and next to her stood Jace and Luke breathing heavily, looking at you in shock.

Did the house of the dragon cast kidnap you to play a prank on you?

That sounds too unreasonable.

“Oh my sweet daughter!” Rhaenyra rushes over to you, embracing you tightly, tears flow down her cheeks as she peppers you with kisses “I-i i cannot believe this, you finally woke up after many years.” She sobs, you look at her questioningly. “Sister.” Jacaerys speaks up, coming to you and joining the embrace of you and Rhaenyra, Luke joins in as well.

“We missed you.” Jace says and you stare at all of them confused.

This has to be a joke.

They notice the expression on your face and their faces immediately drop, “Your grace, the princess woke up after many years, she might not be able to recognise you.” The maester chimes in, Rhaenyra nods, sniffling yet understanding your condition.

“Emma? Is this a joke?” You question, referring to the actor of Rhaenyra, “I’m not Aemma darling, she is your grandmother.” Rhaenyra corrects you. “I think she must be confusing the names of everyone due to her hazy memory.” The maester tries explaining, you sigh.

Yeah this must be a dream.

You shake your head gently and immediately slap yourself to wake yourself up.

“Ouch!” You yell in pain, cupping the cheek you slapped yourself on, Rhaenyra is mortified and the guards rush in and hold your arms back so you don't further hurt yourself.

This is not a dream.

You can’t feel pain in your dreams and you will wake up right before impact.

You look at Rhaenyra’s face, she is as real as a living person, standing right in front of you.

She looks just like Emma. of course, after all Rhaenyra is indeed played by them.

But this is not them.

She is not Emma

You can feel the vibe, it's very different.

You’ve met Emma before in costume, yet they did not give off the vibes as what Rhaenyra is giving off right now, after all, when you met them; it was just a show, but now it's your reality.

Did you die in your world?

You’ve definitely transmigrated into this show, but as who?

Did Rhaenyra ever have a daughter? You knew she didn't.

“Mirror, get me a mirror.” You ask and they look at you questioningly, your form begins to shake as the realisation is too overwhelming, there are many questions in your mind, “Please!” You cry, and immediately a servant moves and rushes over with a mirror.

Your eyes widen.

It's you.

You had not become someone else, but you remained as yourself. “What is my name?” You ask, “Y/N.” Rhaenyra replies. Your mind begins to spin, you are in another world as yourself, you have not possessed anyone else, which means your body must’ve disappeared from your world.

You try to stay calm in this situation, breathing heavily, “You are?” You ask, wanting to reconfirm, you watch as Rhaenyra's face crumples into that of a sad face, probably feeling hurt that her own daughter doesn't recognise her.

“I'm your mother, you are my eldest daughter, they—” She points at Jace, Luke and Joffrey, “—are your younger siblings.” You turn towards them.

You nod, pretending to play the part while you figure out everything. “I'm sorry, I do not remember.” You apologise and Rhaenyra shakes her head, “It is alright, you have been unconscious since the past six years, this is better than losing my daughter.” She replies.

“Six years… Did I fall unconscious after Aemond lost his eye?” You think out loud and Rhaenyra looks at you in shock, “You remember him?” She asks and you clear your throat, “It's hazy, my memory.” You answer back.

“Your grace, the event was probably traumatic for her, hence why she can remember it in parts.” The maester explains it to Rhaenyra, you mentally thank the maester for covering up for you always.

You noticed how they were all dressed up, looked as if they were about to leave but their plans were cut short, and you recognize this gown of Rhaenyra.

It was the gown she wore when she left for King's Landing, in order to settle the matter of Luke's right to driftmark. “You guys were departing somewhere?” You ask, wanting to really confirm it, “Hm? Huh, Yes, We were about to leave for King's Landing.” Jacaerys answers your question.

“Can I tag along?” You blurt the question.

“.. Tag along?” Lucerys repeats your words in confusion, your language confusing him.

“I mean to say, can I come along?” You ask the question in a proper manner, Rhaenyra shakes her head, “No- you've just woken up, you might still be weak- I cannot risk-”

“Mother! I am perfectly fine!” You cut her off, breaking free from the guards hands and running around the room, doing jumping jacks, showing her that you aren't weak and are perfectly capable of physical activity.

Rhaenyra watches in shock, seeing you move like this but she chuckles, shaking her head in comic disbelief, “I guess she has not changed after all.” The maester comments which makes Jace and Luke smile.

“Very well, Pack the princess’ belongings, and get her ready for departure, we will depart two days later.” Rhaenyra orders the maids and you smile at her.

“But mother, I do not have many dresses—”

“You do, I had them tailored every year, whenever you grew, hoping that you would wake up.” She replies softly and you just then realise how Rhaenyra loves her children.

“The maesters said that you might not ever wake up, and that your body will be stunted from growth, yet… I'm glad their predictions never came true.” She smiles gently at you, you smile back.

The maids come in with a bath as everyone leaves, some of them begin packing your belongings. You notice how your body doesn't look how a person in a coma state should be looking especially in the mediaeval times, but instead you seem to be well taken care of, treated as if you were alive.

The maids quickly finish your bath and dress you up, you have to pretend to get used to this atmosphere and era even though you're highly uncomfortable, the mere thought of having servants made you feel bad.

And with that, the night fell, you couldn't sleep thinking about how you're going to deal with everything, could you really prevent war from happening? It happens due to a misunderstanding in the show right? What if the misunderstanding doesn't occur? Your mind was filled with such thoughts through the whole night.

In King's Landing.

“My queen, Rhaenyra, has sent a letter saying that their arrival will be delayed further.” The master sums up the contents of the letter in the council room, in front of Aemond who had been called by Alicent for an urgent matter.

“Why so?” Alicent asks, furrowing her brows.

“Princess Y/N had woken up from her unconscious state.”

An ear piercing shattering sound of glass is heard through the entire room, when turned to look at the origin, It is known that Aemond had dropped the wine glass he was drinking from.

“Y/N is awake?” Aemond asks the maester.

“Yes my prince.” The maester replies.

Aemond's heart begins to pound in his chest loudly, his mind spiralling at the thought of you finally waking up all these years later.

“Please excuse me.” Aemond gets up from the chair, excusing himself from the council and leaving the room, his brain occupied with the thoughts of you.

There wasn't a day where Aemond hadn't thought of you, he would at least think about you once a day- the news of you waking up from unconsciousness made the adrenaline in his body rush.

He felt like a hungry snake that had been starved for many years who at last found a prey to feast on, he felt like a drought-stricken land finally receiving rainfall, he felt like a garden void of any flowers which started to bloom once again.

He was thrilled.

He reminisces of the fond memories you both shared, he could never ever forget them, smiling at the thought of you.

He wondered if you had changed or remained the same.

Whatever it was, he couldn't wait.

He couldn't wait to receive you.

[justdontaskme]

Home Sick (Leah Williamson x Reader)

A/N: It's been so long! I'm trying to get back into things but don't be surprised if I dip again, unfortunately. I want to go back and finish some of my WIPs but needed to get something out. Let me know what you think!

Normally, a day off from practice was a godsend, and you’d spend most of the day tangled in bed with your girlfriend. The day would be filled with laziness as you both enjoyed the simplicity and stillness the rare day of no obligations could hold. 

Yet, today, at this very moment, you felt as if you were at your wit’s end. And said girlfriend was the source of much of the current frustration. 

You’ve been slaving away in the kitchen since you woke up this morning, preparing to feed your whole team as they were scheduled to arrive later today. If you were being honest, there was a part of you that was beginning to regret even deciding to host, but it was too late now. 

Ordinary team hangouts were usually chill, with all the girls coming over for drinks and a movie or game night. Today though, you had planned an early Friendsgiving dinner. Well, it was actually Emily’s idea after she heard you were feeling extra homesick this year. 

Your fellow American picked up on your sour mood lately, and she hounded you until you admitted that you had seen a bunch of videos about people already planning out Thanksgiving menus. In fact, your family group chat had been going off with your parents asking for a head count for the special dinner and any dish requests. 

Since neither you nor Emily were going to make it home for the holiday, it only made sense for you two to celebrate this holiday with your new team. It didn’t matter that they didn’t quite understand the hype of this specific holiday here on the other side of the pond, they were more than happy to learn and eat. 

When word got to Leah, she was onboard instantly, wanting to do whatever she could to help alleviate any feeling of you missing home. While you loved and appreciated your girlfriend for wanting to help, right now you really just needed her to get out of your way. 

“Leah! Get out of the kitchen!” you said, shooing your girlfriend away before she could knock something else over. You grabbed another dish towel and started wiping up the sauce the blonde managed to get all over the counter. 

“I’m just trying to help,” she said, standing right behind you with a bunch of paper towels in hand, causing you to run straight into her when you turned around. 

After throwing the dirty towel into the sink to rinse later, you grabbed Leah’s shoulders so you could face her directly, “I know, babe, but right now you are literally stressing me out more than you are helping me.”

The blonde pouted, visibly deflating, her voice mumbled, “I didn’t mean to stress you out.”

Your face softened at her words. Leah really was just trying to help, but with a million different things going on in the kitchen at once she was more a hazard than anything else. A hand went up, cupping her cheek.

“I know you want to help, but cooking has never been your strong suit,” you said, your voice light to let her know you were teasing. “How about you help instead by sitting right here,” you patted the kitchen counter that was currently free of anything, “and keep me company?”

“I could do that,” she smiled, stepping away from you just enough that she could hop up and place herself in the open space you had previously cleared for her. 

Once she was settled, you took a step forward, standing between her legs, “You’ll be the best helper from right here.”

She dipped her head down, stealing a quick kiss from your lips. “Anything else you need from me?”

“I just need you to sit there and tell me I look pretty,” you told her, your arms slipping around her as you hid your face in her neck. 

“Oooo, complimenting my beautiful and gorgeous girlfriend. My speciality,” she grinned, her hands running up and down your back soothingly. 

As Leah sat there, with her cheek resting against the top of your head, she whispered all the sweet nothings you wanted to hear into your ear. It helped calm your racing mind as you started to refocus on the task at hand. 

Reluctantly, you stepped out of Leah’s embrace, one hand sitting on her thigh as you turned and took in the kitchen, mentally planning out what dish needed attention next. You left Leah to attend to your dishes, asking Leah to taste things here and there. In your mind, since she was the pickiest eater on the team, if it passed Leah’s taste tests, then it would be good enough for the others. 

If anyone asked, you would deny it, but you literally almost cried in relief when Alessia and Emily showed up almost two hours later. Your friends being the extra sets of hands you desperately needed in the kitchen. With their help, things started moving much more smoothly. 

As the day went on, your teammates slowly started to filter in with drinks, other homemade dishes, or desserts in hand. Now that you had helpers, Leah was free to play hostess, checking in on everyone and making sure you were supplied with drinks that Katie was kind enough to mix for everyone. A few of your teammates offered their help, but with the kitchen being as small as it was, you, Emily, and Alessia were better off handling the food. 

Steadily, the house filled with smells of all the different food as things were almost done. The space in your apartment was becoming almost nonexistent, but it was obvious your teammates were enjoying themselves if their laughs and screams were anything to go by. Despite what some would consider chaos, this is exactly what you needed. 

As the last few dishes were either finishing up or were being reheated, you three finally took a nice break to catch up on drinks and gossip. 

Alessia was telling a story about something Tooney had gotten herself into back in the day when you felt a pair of arms slide around your waist from behind.

“Everything alright, sweetheart?”

You turned your head to find Leah flashing you a bright grin. Her smile was one of the reasons you were enjoying yourself so much despite all the crazy and hard work from prepping and cooking over the past few days. 

“Everything is perfect,” you told her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she said, squeezing you a little tighter. She held you in her arms, joining in on your conversation with Emily and Alessia, only disappearing once to refill your drink for you. 

When the timer went off from the oven, you felt like a huge weight was lifted off of your shoulders. Your friends chuckled as they watched you slip out of your girlfriend’s arms and back to the oven.

With a huge sigh of relief, you slipped on the oven mitts and went to grab the star of the night. While having a turkey was a staple for the holiday, you decided to forgo it to keep your sanity for the day. 

Instead, you decided to try your hand at something new that you felt would garner much more appreciation. After triple checking that everything was cooked and ready, you gave Leah a nod to get everyone ready to eat. 

“Dinner is ready!” she called, watching as a few of the young ones and Katie started playfully shoving each other in their haste to get first in line for food. You watched as everyone lined up buffet style and served themselves before looking for a space to eat, either at the table, on the couch, or up against the wall.

After everyone else was served, you grabbed a plate and started making a plate for your girlfriend as she went to reprimand the young ones for making a mess on the coffee table.

“This is so good, Y/N! Can you cook for us all the time?” Beth said around a mouthful of food. 

You rolled your eyes, “I already do, Beth,” you reminded her, thinking of all the days Beth would show up unannounced, looking for food and company since Viv moved to Manchester. 

“True, but you don’t make all this,” she countered, stealing a piece of bread off of Steph’s plate when the Australian was dealing with Kyra trying to overload her plate with food. 

“Thanksgiving special, so enjoy this while you can because I will not be cooking like this for some time,” you said, handing Leah her plate of food, when she came back. 

“Aren’t you eating?” she asked after thanking you, taking a seat so you could then sit in her lap. It was a little harder for her to eat this way, but she really just wanted you close. She felt like she barely saw you today as soon as people started showing up. 

“Maybe later, I just need a sec,” you told her, urging her to eat while the food was still hot. Honestly, you had quite a fill from taste testing and right now you were content to sit back and watch everyone enjoy themselves as long as you had a drink in hand.

“I’m a bit surprised there weren’t Smileys on the menu, with Leah living here and all,” Alessia said, digging into her food. 

You chuckled, seeing Leah’s mouth fall upon at the open attack, “We’re working on expanding her horizons on her food.”

Your girlfriend turned to you, her face full of betrayal, “I eat more than just Smileys!”

“Oh, I know, babe. Why do you think I made a ham instead of a turkey? Now you’ll be set with a ham sandwich for like the next week,” you said, grabbing a napkin to wipe the bit of food that spilled from the side of her mouth.

“Lucky! Now you don’t have to cook. Not that you really did much of that before.”

“I can cook!” Leah nearly shouted, sitting back from her food, glaring at her teammates.

“No, Leah. You can heat things up. There’s a big difference,” Lia said, jumping on the train to tease her best friend.

“I would take more offense to that, but you lot are just jealous that I have a girlfriend who is not only insanely pretty but loves to cook for me,” Leah said, sitting up proudly and sending you a quick wink.

“I mean she’s not my girlfriend, but she does keep me fed pretty regularly,” Beth reminded her. 

“And for that comment, Beth, you are not allowed to take any leftovers home with you,” Leah asserted, a satisfactory smirk in place when her friend immediately tried to backtrack all statements.

“Are we going to go around the table and say what we’re grateful for like they do in movies?” Kyra asked, switching topics before Leah and Beth’s banter could continue. 

You waved your hand, dismissing the idea while you took a rather large swig of your drink. The alcohol started to kick in and relax you more now that all of your responsibilities for the day were now over, “No, not really. I don’t know about you, Foxy, but we never really did that at my house. It sounds sweet in practice, but it was pretty awkward the one year we tried it. You are more than welcome to share if you want, but don’t feel like you have to.”

“I, for one, have something to say,” Leah stated, chasing her last bite with a bit of water before she cleared her throat. “It may sound corny and everything, but I want to say I’m thankful for having all of you in my life, especially this one right next to me. After doing my ACL, having you lot support me through it all and being able to share things like this is a dream.”

“Stop being so emotional, you’re going to make me cry,” Katie shouted, pretending to fan away imaginary tears in her eyes.

“Okay, okay, one more thing. Last one to clean up after themself is on dish duty!” Leah exclaimed, taking the last bite from her plate before rushing to put the dish in the sink.

From there it was a mad rush to the sink, as a few snuck around, packing some food to go home with them as the chaos reigned around them. 

You continued to watch everything unfold with rapt interest, refilling your glass and cheersing with Foxy who was following your lead. With these people you considered a second family, you truly felt a sense of home, healing that little patch of homesickness you had been feeling lately. 

[sideysvault]

༘˚⋆HC’s of Deadpool and roommate!reader ༘˚⋆

Pairing: Wade Wilson x gn!reader

Mostly platonic with romantic undertones.

Word count: 519

Warnings: Some foul language and canon typical violence

────────

• Neither of you cooked very often, so Wade memorized by heart all of your favorite orders in every restaurant, cafe, and bakery in town. He frequently buys you something from them every time you attend to his injuries or do something nice around the house

“Hey, Pool. Can you do me a favor?”

“I would literally murder whoever you asked me to, and take the blame for the crime if that was what it took to please you ”

“Can you wash the dishes?”

“Nope.”

• When you are getting a bit too stressed about work or start self isolating again, He would spontaneously take you to what he liked to call “Roomdates”. They usually involve getting you out of the house to do something fun like the arcade or go karts.

“Stop bleeding all over the floor!. We’d totally be fucked if we had a rug”

“But we don’t own a rug, Pookie”

“Stop fucking calling me that. And stop leaving your filthy body parts around the house. Why do you need them if they are detached?”

“Ok!. Ouchie five thousand”

• You two would engage in constant bickering. You both had strong personalities and were absolute drama queens. Luckily, the fights would usually end when someone would burst out with laughter.

“What are you doing? Virtual sex? It thought I was the disgusting freak”

“It’s asmr you idiot. I’m trying to get some sleep”

“Wow. That is just so sad. Technology these days is getting scary. What a fucking cuckoo world we live in…” (He fell asleep in the first 10 minutes of the video).

• Deadpool would always hype you up when you got well dressed. He tried to get you out of your shell and encouraged you when you went out of your comfort zone.

• Wade is secretly a huge nerd and has made you watch every single Star Wars movie.

• He gets random splurges of energy and cleans the whole house up and down.

• You always remind him to eat at least two times a day and to sleep as much as possible. You would also leave bottles of water around the house so he remembers to drink it. If you were feeling hopeful, you also slid effervescent vitamins in the water bottles.

“I’m basically immortal. sweet cheeks. I don’t know why you are trying to turn me into a green juice girly”

• He would be obnoxious and refer to you as ‘mommy’ in front of other people because Wade knew how embarrassed you’d be if you could hear him.

“Sorry guys, as much as I enjoyed being a crime-fighting shit swizzler, Mommy wants me home by eight o’clock”

• You would always have to put very loud music whenever he is pleasuring himself because he is apparently incapable of being quiet.

• Usually, you don’t wear a bra around the house and he always makes some stupid joke about it.

“Woah, turn off your flashlights. It’s like i'm being blinded by them”

• Your shared home is truly the place where he feels most at ease. And to be honest, you have never felt safer or happier with any other roommate.

[sizzlingcloudmentality]

slow

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

wordcount: ~1.7k

summary: Dave is not the type for slow morning sex and struggles his way through cock warming. He's just a guy <3

warnings: smut, explicit, no use of y/n, established relationship, mild d/s dynamics, unprotected p in v, cock warming, pussy pronouns, pet name (honey), female masturbation (teensy tiny bit), a couple of affectionate ass smacks, Dave trying to be a strong man™️ and not fuck you silly

a/n: it started as a blurb but it got big. Sorry not sorry. Don't come for me, come for him. Literally. Even if he says no. Forever and always grateful for @guiltyasdave for the hyping and the beta. 💛

divider: @saradika-graphics

There is no such thing as a slow morning with Dave. Slow evenings and nights, yes. But not the mornings. 

The mornings are for getting up early, going for a run, taking a shower, getting ready and giving you a forehead kiss while he's already halfway through the door on his way to work.

And it's not that you didn't try to get up as early as him, tried to make him breakfast, tried to bring him a coffee to bed before his alarm even went off. You did all this and he was grateful. 

But you disturbed his morning ritual, and his rituals are sacred. If one thing doesn't go like the ritual dictates, his whole day feels off. 

He knows you crave the slow mornings. With coffee in bed and his cock in your pussy. But he simply can't. Dave is a creature of habit and you know that, accept it and support him by not being in his way. 

But when Dave got the opportunity to work from home for a day a week he agreed immediately. Not because he is a big fan of working from home, he prefers the office setting by far. But Dave knew it would make you happy to see him during the day, maybe eating lunch together, maybe having a coffee break in the kitchen. 

The first day of working remote comes and everything happens as always. Getting up, going for a run, taking a shower, he even puts on his suit. You get the kiss on your forehead while you are still tangled up in the bed sheets. 

It's not even 6:30 in the morning and Dave is already having a call with someone somewhere in Europe. You hear his voice faintly, it creeps around the corners of the hallway, paired with the smell of coffee. 

The words are inaudible but the sound of his voice... You sigh and your hand slowly snakes between your legs, just like the authoritative tone, his professional laughter, the competence oozing from him. It's not about making yourself come to his voice, it's about the pleasure and comfort of knowing him close to you today. 

With your movements too sluggish and too modest you slowly drift into sleep again. When Dave opens the door to the bedroom with a coffee for you, he finds you like this, sleeping on your side with one hand in your panties.

He doesn't have the time, he's having another call in 15 minutes but God, this is so tempting. You are so tempting. He's torn between waking you up and handing you your coffee or waking you up and making you moan. 

His dick twitches at the thought and his free hand tugs himself back in place. 

He's in control of every aspect of his life. Even you, because you gladly play after his rules. But his dick... that's the one thing he has little control over, especially when it comes to you.

Dave doesn't like being weak, being put in his place because clearly, his place is at the top and no one else puts him there but himself. 

But for you? He's weak for you. He's soft for you, and tender, and it scares him sometimes. If you knew how much you have him wrapped around your finger, you could easily use it to your advantage. 

You wouldn't do it. He knows that. You're good, good for him, good to him, his good girl. Maybe too good for him. 

He shoves the thought aside and seizes your ankle, a touch between a tickle and a pull. You stir in your half sleep and his cock stirs in his briefs. 

God, he's so fuckin' weak for you. 

He paws at you, at your soft calf, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed while you sleepily turn onto your stomach, sweetly groaning and whining. 

"Wake up," he orders, still in work mode, used to be obeyed for payment and you groan again because his command reverberates in your achingly empty cunt. 

"I'm awake," you murmur and feel his ridiculously large hands gripping your hip and hoisting you up on your knees. One hand follows the curve of your spine between your shoulder blades, pushing your chest back onto the mattress, the other hand impatiently tugs and pulls your panties to the side. 

"That's what you do all morning when I'm not at home? Playing with yourself?" His palm lands on your ass, it's not painful, you know he simply likes the visual of your soft flesh jiggling and rippling under the impact of his body. 

A clink of his belt buckle, the low hiss of his zipper, the grunt when he pulls himself out of his boxers and pumps himself out of habit. 

"Answer me." Another order and you clench. 

"No. I don't." You arch your back more, stick your ass out more, not caring about how needy you are already after just waking up. 

"Such a shame," Dave murmurs and gives you another smack, kneading your ass cheek until he pulls you open for him. 

"You really should play with yourself. Gets you nice and ready for me." 

He checks the clock. T-10 until the next call. Fuck. No slow morning for you and him, again. 

He nudges his tip between your folds and runs up and down and up and down again and again to hear your sweet gasps and whines and pleas. Oh he lives for the muffled please, please, fuck me. 

The thick head of his cock disappears inside of you, welcomed by the squeezes of your cunt. You're still sleepy but she's wide awake. She always is for him.

“Sorry, honey, got no time to properly fuck you,” he mutters and slowly, painfully slow, pushes into you. Torturous for you and for him. He gives you the time to stretch around him, to fully wake up to his cock buried in your tight heat. And he allows himself the luxury to hide his own neediness behind your back.

Your warm, soft butt pressed against him, your sleep-warmth seeping through the fabric of his slacks. Your cute cotton panties pushed to the side, the waistband cutting into your plush hips… Dave's thighs twitch from the effort of not pulling out and thrusting back into your pussy again. “Just need to feel you. Just for a couple of minutes. Don't!”

A sharp clap echoes through the room when you try to rock your hips against Dave. He kneads the stinging skin on your butt, already feeling a little sorry. So. Fucking. Weak.

“Can't have you ruin my slacks.” Can't have me giving in.

He needs a lesson in discipline. In staying strong. He can't run around, always hard, just because you're in the same room and breathing. He can't be a slave to your cunt, even though he is.

Another glance at the clock, he has five minutes left at best. Five minutes to stay strong. But you don't need to suffer, you did nothing wrong.

Dave doesn't move, doesn't budge an inch, his jaw is clenched and every time your sweet little pussy clamps down on him he grunts. He won't move. Need. To stay. Strong.

You're being so good. You just stay still, needy, sleepy, confused. Why won't he move? Not even a little bit? His hands run over your back, so damn slow, the weight of his palms heavy on your skin, his blunt nails barely grazing you.

“Touch yourself for me, sweet girl,” he grits through his teeth, thinking he might be able to endure the next phase of his stupid self-inflicted disciplinary action. “But don't move, do you understand?”

You nod your head, your cheek rubbing against the bed sheets that smell like you and Dave. “Yes,” you murmur and when your fingers find your clit you bite into the sheets, groaning out another ‘yes’ with drawing tight circles over your sensitive bud. 

You clench around him, gripping him and your already tight and snug cunt starts feeling like Dave's personal heaven. If only he could fuck you thoroughly. Don't.

He grips the flesh of your rear again, concealing his trembling fingers with pulling and holding you close against him. God, the way you squeeze him, the way he fits so perfectly…

Dave always enjoyed cock warming. Nothing better than having you sit on him, needy and soaking, while watching a movie or eating dinner, balls deep inside of you. But not today. Today is torture. Today he is the one not being allowed to feel too much pleasure.

But you, on the other hand, enjoy yourself immensely. It isn't ideal, you like the movement more, the friction, the pounding, the way your whole body gets shaken with every thrust. But being stuffed full and working on yourself is nice, too. Really nice. Every one of his throbs and his hissed curses push you closer to the edge. Just a little bit more, just a little longer, just a-

“Oh hell no,” he snarls and pulls his hips back, both of you wince when the connection between you breaks. “Didn't tell you to finish.” He knows you well, knows exactly how your cunt acts when you're about to come. And he knows his dick, this traitor. The weak link.

“Dave… Please?” You whine, wiggling your ass for him, offering your bare self to him, trying to lure him back into you and a bead of sweat trickles down his forehead. He's so needy, he hates it.

“Not this time, honey, sorry.” His cock is covered in your arousal, glistening, coated from the tip to his balls, but he doesn't bother wiping himself clean. He simply pulls his briefs and slacks back up, his fingers tenderly drum on your butt one last time before he turns for the door as if he was on the run. 

The fucking call starts in two minutes. He feels your sticky slick messing up his briefs, he knows he's leaking. Your cunt, that's what he will smell the whole time, every time he spreads his legs. He will actually smell you all day long. 

That'll do it, though. Teach him the lesson about discipline. Because he surely can't be this hard the whole day. He won't be weak for you the whole day. He won't give in to his dick that so desperately wants to be buried in any of your holes.

Turns out, he's not hard the whole day. Just until lunchtime, when he finds you in the kitchen and asks you to get on your knees because you have to clean up your mess you left on him.

There truly is no such thing as a slow morning with Dave.

reblog and/or comment to warm Dave's cock (or to make me happy, whatever you like best, I'm not judging)(I'm deffo keeping his cock warm, sorry @/myself)

find my Dave York masterlist here

read part 2 slower here

part of the in the sheets collection

find my general masterlist here

[c0ffinshit]

Reach Down (Simon [John Q.] x Reader) SMUT

a/n: hey guys, sorry this project is so rushed. i wanted to get something out since i haven't written anything in a hot minute. so i still hope you like it either way.

word count: 1,391

credit for the idea: @digitalpup444

warning: some poor grammer and spelling, porn with little plot, choking, priase/slight degradation kink, fingering with cunnilingus, dialogue heavy

You were never a huge music fan, and never considered yourself a fan of any given band. Because of this, you never got the hype of band worship, the idea of taking an average person and putting them on the highest level to the point where if they ruin that even slightly their career is over for good. 

That is until you got into the punk band PSYOPS. When the obsession hit, it hit like a bus. Suddenly, you were going to underground shows in gross basements and old warehouses. You were taking old shirts and cutting them up to put custom patches on them. You closely followed the band’s forums, trying to figure out their next show. Of course, the band knew of your existence.  It didn’t take long for you to end up in his truck, talking about what it was like being in a band. As you two talked, you felt a strong pull towards him. He liked making punk music and taking down the big man with lyrics. Toward the end of the car ride, he lit his second cigarette of the night and took off the mask as he pulled up to a house.

You always preferred John Q whenever talking about favorite band members. Something about never seeing his face drew you in him. What did he look like under that ski mask? Who was John Q? But when you finally saw his face covered in sweat from the show a shrug ran through you.

"What?" He asks, opening the driver side’s door to the truck, and shutting it with a thud.

You snap out of your daze for a minute, enough time to open your door and then shut it. "Nothing, don’t worry about it."

He glares at you, flicking his cigarette and pressing it under his boot. "Alright." 

He opens the house’s main door and leads you to his room, which looks like it hasn’t been cleaned. John flops onto his bed and groans loudly. You look around his room, slowly inching into his room. 

He notes this and sits up, watching you stare around his room. "Are you going to sit down? You look tired as fuck."

Your eyes flicker back to him. His boots are placed firmly on the ground and his forearms are just above his knees. It’s oddly sexy how he sits. Then again, he was handsome in general. 

"No, "You finally reply. "I’m fine, I promise."

John tilts his head back, smirking, and stands in your way. "You sure? You look…" His eyes look you up and down. "Tense."

You shake your head. "No, I’m fine. I’m just a big fan of your work and I don’t want to mess anything up-"

"Fuck off. You’re not ruining anything. You’re fine." He steps closer. "I mean that. You’re fine."

He eyes you up again, watching your hands hold each other. Your face slowly rushes with blood as he talks. Most critics would say that he speaks because he likes the sound of his voice, but honestly, it didn’t matter to you; you could listen to him talk for hours about whatever he wanted.

"Are you hitting on me?" You said, taking your hands apart. He snaked his arms around my waist and pulled me closer.

"Do you blame me? I’ve been hitting on you the whole night. " His face comes closer and you place your hands on his shoulders.

"Well, are you going to do something about it?"

"Do you want me to?" He asks, moving one of his hands to hold my chin.

A quick nod of your head and he pulls you in for a kiss. At first, his mouth tastes like licking an ashtray, but as his tongue snakes into your mouth, a faint of cheap beer covers your tongue. Your hands shake as they move up to hold his face. His other hand moves down to your ass, pushing you into his hips. His erection pressed against his thigh as you softly moaned into his mouth. John pulls away for a second, his lips covered in your saliva.

"Take off your shirt." He rushes out as he takes off his jacket.

Once you saw his shirt on the floor, you could feel yourself getting more excited.

You giggle and sloppily take off your shirt. His smirk returns to his face as he looks at your breasts.

"Such a good girl and such a cute bra. May I?" His hand ghosts over your bare skin, running his fingers along the lines of your body.

"Please," You whisper and his hands rush to squeeze at them.

His hands felt rough against your skin. You let parts of your body shine in the lamp near his bed. John’s tan but pale skin was dull and flat, yet was striking against your skin. You let out a small moan as his hands moved lower down your body.

"Take off those pants and get on the bed." He commands in a breathy yet dominant tone.

Your hands push the button and pull at the zipper of your jeans, revealing the cutest pair of the panties you own. Embarrassment sets into your face as you rush onto the bed. John smiles as his eyes look into yours.

"Fuck, you are so cute. For such a good girl, I didn’t think you’d be this much of a needy whore."

You giggle again at the compliment but stop as he slowly crawls onto the bed and in between your legs.

His eyes are dark as he kisses down your left thigh; every kiss is a small noise. "You doing alright?" He places his hand on your body. 

A low groan of approval leaves your mouth. He smirks a little as his hand continues to roam and his mouth continues to move downwards. "Good." 

He would’ve never figured you would be so sensitive. You lean forward and kiss his head, causing him to look up. He finally looks at you again, his first glance in a while. His hair was slowly starting to stick to his forehead. John has one of those stares that makes you shiver and squirm in your seat with pleasure. His face comes down to your throbbing heat, a small patch of slick waiting for him.

"Exicited were we?" He said with a small chuckle, kissing it right on the patch.

It was things like that that sent shivers up your spine. His fingers hook around the lining of your panties, slowly pulling them down. This was the most vulnerable you had been in a while.

"Before we start, can you do something for me, baby?"

A quick nods and he continues, his tone more hushed. "Call me Simon."

Before you can even process his request, Simon groans as his tongue snakes up your clit. At first, Lorne went slow, teasingly licking at your clit. But soon enough, Simon’s fingers were slowly entering your vagina. You looked down at his dark eyes, his tongue flicking at your clit; the lamp reflecting in his eyes. 

Going deeper into your pussy, goosebumps crawled up your skin. Your back arched. Suddenly, he stopped. His mouth pops from your vulva. You try to grab at his greasy brown hair, but end up pushing his head back down to your cunt. He started slowly; his tongue felt so good around your clit with every gentle, rough lick, and suck; you could feel myself growing weaker. He was licking and sucking, and the pit in your stomach grew tighter each second. He smelled of cheap beer, cigarettes, and old sweat. With each curl and press of his fingers in your pussy, your stomach swelled in pleasure. He looked up at me and his eyes looked as if he was smiling, which made you melt. You push your vulva more in his mouth and he lets out a low growl, making the pleasure more intense. 

Soon enough, your hot cum was dripping from his mouth and down his chin. When he finally poked his head back up, his smile was a sight for sore eyes.

"God, I’m surprised you were that quiet, still, such a good girl for me. So proud of you."

"It’s not about the sounds." You reply. "But it's about body language. At this moment, you have no idea how good I feel right."

[bueckers-sturniolo]

the alchemy.

paige x fem!teammate! reader

word count: 2k!

warnings: uhhh, cursing? literally one suggestive-ish comment, if i think of anymore ill come back and lyk!

authors note: HIIII! this is my first time ever writing anything whatsoever, and i can’t tell if i genuinely enjoy or really hate this. you gotta start somewhere though, right? 🤔🤔🤔

go read part two here!

this happens once every few lifetimes; these chemicals hit me like white wine…

you and paige were inseparable. it didn’t go unnoticed by fans, not by any means. you were a year younger than paige, you started playing for uconn her sophomore year. as soon as this was announced, paige followed you on everything, immediately commenting on any post the uconn instagram page made about you, commenting something along the lines of just saying your name in all caps with a bunch of emojis, or even, when she was feeling bold, “Theres our girl! 🤩🙌 (or, ‘my girl’ if she was feeling silly that day),” and even on your own, individual posts about yourself, she’d like and comment some form of encouragement or a subtle compliment just to hype you up, as she does the rest of the team.

she couldn’t deny her nearly unbearable attraction toward the minute she first had laid eyes on you. even if it was over a tiny screen. the first time she saw you was when geno had shown the team videos of you playing and explained to them who you are, where you’re from, what position you play, and all other things they should know. you were around 5’10, and you were a point guard. you had gotten a scholarship to uconn, and obviously, you took it up. the first time paige physically saw you play, she knew you two would become close. not only working together on the court, during games and practices, but also, off of the court.

and you guys did. by the time the season started, you were sure you guys were unstoppable. every practice, you guys were fully locked in, becoming an outstanding duo together. that is, until, she got a tibial plateau fracture. she sat out a whopping 19 games after her surgery, and it was sad to see. she was such a powerful player, and now one of your best friends. games and practices didn’t feel nearly as good without her, but she made you promise that you’d work everyday to improve your already very strong talent, to play for ‘the both of you,’ as she said. she’d come to practices, games, and even just to your personal training sessions to provide some form of support.

what if I told you I’m back? the hospital was a drag, worst sleep that I ever had, I circled you on a map; I havent come around in so long, but im coming back so strong.

as soon as paige was cleared by doctors to begin playing again, she worked several hours, every single day. she came back as a fucking beast. since the day she got cleared and started working her ass off, she earned the nickname ‘sniper’ from you. your nickname for her was ‘killer,’ which, is kinda where she got the idea for sniper. you both were very powerful point guards. every day since she came back, you were amazed by just how hard she was working to get back up to her already impressive level of skill. and as time went on, she got even better than before. from the wise words of your guys’ coach, geno, she literally ‘came back better than she was when she was named player of the year.’

so when I touch down, call the amateurs and cut ‘em from the team, ditch the clowns, get the crown. baby, im the one to beat. cause the sign on your heart said it’s still reserved for me. honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy?

one night, after a practice, you guys are sitting on your couch, scrolling on your phones in the living room of your apartment. she was over there often. you didn’t live in a dorm, but she did, so this is where you typically hung out. you didn’t get a dorm, for mainly one reason, living on campus is expensive. you personally thought that if you were gonna pay so much to live somewhere, might as well be somewhere bigger than the dorms at uconn. your parents somehow agreed, and helped you through paying for it your first few years. you’re now a junior, and paige is a senior. though, she was technically going into her junior year of playing basketball, but it was her last year as a uconn ‘student.’ over the past several months, it’s been…. flirty, to say the least. you’ve always been not ‘just friends,’ but, you never talked about it. it was just ‘normal’ to you guys. you had talked about to kk once, and the conversation didn’t really help. at all. not in the fucking slightest.

“well, i mean… yeah, we all notice it. she just…. acts so different around you…? it’s not a bad difference, per se… it’s just like, why the fuck is she so nice to you? she’s constantly like… on her knees praising you. it’s crazy, lowkey. but none of us wanna say that, so we kinda just have accepted it all season.” kk says, finally looking up from her phone at me, sitting on the edge of her bed, giving her a ‘please help me’ look.

i stare at her for a few seconds, then sigh. is it actually different? does she really do that, or is kk just exaggerating, like she always does?

“kk, i don’t- i don’t know, dude. i don’t notice it. it’s just- like-“ kk interrupts me, knowing i couldn’t find the words to explain what i was feeling, “normal to you?”

i nod, putting my face in my hands and letting out another sigh. “yeah, i get that. but, also… like, how do you not notice it? it’s like- remember that guy she said she had a crush on, like- 7 months ago or some shit?” she said, sighing.

“yeah, why?” i say, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion on where the fuck she could possibly be going with this.

“she literally flirted with you more than she flirted with him. then, she rejected him, and said there was ‘no reason behind it….’ is that not suspiscious to you? in that one picture of you guys and the weird ass dude she apparently liked, she’s leaning closer to you than she is him? does that not even slightly spark a tad bit of suspiscion?” kk says, getting frustrated that im not seeing her point here.

“i mean- no? i didn’t even notice it, kk.” I say, shaking my head in disbelief. “exactly my point,” kk says, sitting up to really try to get her point across. “she acts like she’s in love with you, and heaven forbid you notice it even slightly. i could name so many things that just, like- we have all noticed, and paige knows we’ve noticed. like, that time that one bitch was pushing you on the court the entire game, and paige eventually got pissed off and pushed her back off of you, then got a fucking technical foul over it…? or, how about when she gets drunk, she literally is all over you. like, hugging you, holding you, falling asleep on the couch with you literally on top of her? is that not somehow making you just use that little brain in your head?” kk says, and i just stare in thought. maybe she was right. maybe it is more than a close friendship.

you snap out of your thoughts as paige says your name, looking over at her. “yeah?” you say, trying to seem cool.

“are you okay? you just spaced out for like…. 10 minutes…” paige says, turning her phone off sitting her it down on her chest. “oh, yeah,” I say, chuckling. that’s fucking embarrassing, you thought. but why wouldn’t she notice it? she notices everything about you.

“y’know… you did really good today,” paige says smiling at you. you smile too, looking down at your hands, “thanks. you literally always do good, so. no point in boosting your ego any more than it already is.” you say, looking back up to meet her gaze.

“i call you killer for a reason, you know that, right? you’re fucking phenomenal.” and she meant it. you were a goddess, in her eyes. if there was any person closest to heaven on this earth. it’s you. everything about you. she couldn’t get enough of you, and if it was up to her, she’d show you just how perfect you are to her. you smile, shaking your head in disbelief. “you’re insane.”

“im literally complimenting you, idiot- how does this make me insane,” paige says, laughing. you shrug, shaking your head. “you know, you’re my bestfriend, right? like, the best, best-friend i’ve ever had? ” paige says, after a few seconds of silence. you look back up, your gaze softening, your big grin also softening into a sweet smile. kk was right, you thought. you knew what that was. you knew what she meant. she is in love.

hey, you. what if I told you we’re cool? that child’s play back in school is forgiven under my rule. i havent come around in so long, but I’m making a come-back to where I belong.

you sit in your room in silence, staring at the ceiling. you keep replaying things in your mind, things she’s said. things she’s done. you knew you liked girls, you knew you liked paige. but, at what cost? did your whole friendship form from the attraction you guys had from the start? was this random to her? were you guys ever going to talk about it? this whole situation is ridiculous. right now, paige is visiting her family in minnesota. you’ve met them before, and you loved her little brother, drew, like your own brother. he was precious to you. but, this time you didn’t go, you had to stay back and practice. which, sounds ridiculous to paige given that you’re already the best player in the world to her. but, you knew you’d been slacking on practicing and certain skills you were supposed to be good at. you didn’t want to let her down. or the team, of course. but, paige specifically.

these bloakes warm the benches, we’ve been on a winning streak. (s)he jokes that it’s heroin but this time with an ‘e.’

today, you guys had a game. you were always pretty hard on yourself, but, today was worse. paige noticed this, quickly. as she always does. right before halftime, you shoot a three. you make it, but, it still was kinda sloppy. not all of your shots were sloppy, of course. but, today you felt like shit and were on your period. you didn’t feel great, and you were pissed off that the girl guarding you was on your ass all damn game. the girl in question was no other than kate martin, who was always on your ass specifically, when you guys played iowa. it was infuriating, and not to mention that you kept getting fouls called on you by a ref who clearly doesn’t realize that kate won’t stay off of your case. as soon as half-time hits, you walk over to the bench, muttering a ‘holy fucking shit’ under your breath. you sit down, paige immediately following after you, sitting beside you.

“hey, killer…. it’s okay, i promise. you’re doing so, so good.” paige says, leaning closer to you trying to reassure you in a soft, gentle tone.

“doesnt feel like it.” you say, grumpily, grabbing your water and taking a drink of it. “i know, but hey,” she says, smiling. “you’re fuckin’ killing it. if it makes you feel any better, you scored and knocked her down because of how close she was to you, maybe she’ll back off. but…” she says, pausing. “do not get a tech because of her.” you look over at her, slowly nodding. “yeah, im trying. but, the next time she gets in my face, i’m knocking her to the fucking ground again.” you say, quietly. paige smiles, “no being too aggressive… i mean, yes, be aggressive. but, no techs.”

“yeah, yeah. okay, idiot face. i’ll try.” you say and paige smiles wider, shaking her head.

as the game continues, we’re up by a solid two points. youre now in the last 45 seconds of the game. iowa has the ball, clark scores a 3 on paige. of fucking course, you think.

kk gets the rebound, and we get the ball, finally. with now only 30 seconds left, you’re panicking. you’re losing by one damn point. geno calls a time out out to the ref, the ref granting him this and you all huddle over. paige leans over to you, mumbling a, “you’ve got this, killer. im leaving this up to you. you won’t let me down.” you smile, nodding. she smiles at you for a few seconds. she is so whipped, and it’s obvious. you’re addicting. you’re like heroin, but with a fucking ‘e,’ paige thinks.

shirts off, and your friends lift you up over their heads. beer sticking to the floor, cheers chanted, cause they said, “there was no chance, tryna be the greatest in the league.” where’s the trophy? (s)he just comes runnin’ over to me.

as the game resumes, the ball is passed to paige. 15 seconds. the time is ticking, so, so fast. paige does a pump fake, immediately passing the ball to you. you catch it, turning slightly so you can dribble around martin, who’s still on your ass. you nearly lose the ball. you’re wasting too much time time, you think. you glance up at the clock. 5 seconds. you try to think fast, then quickly preform a fake pass to paige, then as soon as kate turns her attention toward paige, you shoot directly behind the point the three-point line, and you make it. the buzzer sounds. you look over at the score counters, wondering if it’s able to be counted. they announce it is, and you feel like you’ve never been happier than in that damn moment. your entire team is screaming, all of the fans in the bleachers standing up and cheering. you place your hands on your knees, leaning down and panting while smiling. that’s when you see paige, her shirt is lifted up so her stomach is showing, still cheering. smiling ear to ear, she suddenly runs over to you from across the court. she hugs you, picking you up and spinning you around.

this type of shit only happens once every few lifetimes. who are you to deny your love for her any longer? who are you to fight the general chemistry between you two? who are you to fight the alchemy?

a/n: RAHHHHHH I HOPE YOU LOVED IT IM SORRY IF IT SUCKS ASS!!!! IF YOURE READING THIS RN I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

[yung-notorious]

8 WORDS WHEN I THINK ABOUT US IS FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME! — ♡

— crammed up in the backseat of his car, he just can’t get enough of you — feat. satoru gojo

+18 MDI. WARNINGS. baddie!reader x college!gojo, never lose me chapter 4, unestablished situationship, rough makeup sex, latenight drives, fast food drive-thru’s, hotboxing, unprotected sex, car sex, blowjobs, fingering, squirting, begging, almost cream pie, gojo’s character is questionable. notes. word count 8k, apart of a larger body of work but can stand alone as a one-shot. read entire work here on ao3. comments likes reblogs all appreciated 💕

You’re pissed honestly, all the way fed up with Sukuna and his stank ass attitude. You’d be FaceTiming the group chat right now telling them what just happened if they weren’t out drunk off their asses. But you can't, so someone is going to have to hear your mouth and it’s going to be Satoru whether he likes it or not. You’re not playing this time, enough is enough.

You don’t even bother signing out before you push through the front lobby doors, the security guard is too busy on his phone to notice you leave and by the time he does he doesn't have the energy in him to stop you. You’ll get an email from housing if he cares enough to report you. It's not like that shits going to affect you in any way though, you don’t even live on campus. Yeah you might get suspended from staying over his dorm if it happens again but at this point you don’t ever want to come back up here again.

It’s dark when you make it outside, chilly with light rain hitting your face and you can’t see which car he’s in with there being a few other cars parked out front with their bright ass LED headlights blinding you. There’s people shuffling out of each one, likely getting dropped off from the bars and you hate having to stand here looking around searching for him.

You take your phone out to text him to ask what car he’s in and not even a second later a car horn honks…you turn to look, and out of all these cars parked up of course he’d be the one in the Audi. You had a feeling he came from money with the girls coming from a private high school, but you were too busy trying to see through the Honda’s and Kia’s, you didn’t even consider him to be in that car.

Walking over, you pull on the passenger side door handle and hop in putting your backpack down. The bottom of your sneaks are wet and you feel icky having them touch the floor.

“You got down here quic–”, he moves towards you in an attempt to sling an arm around and pull you into a hug but you jerk back pushing him away.

“Aht aht, no.”

“What’s the matter with you?” He pulls back. You don’t miss the slight irritation in his voice either. He’s probably confused as hell. One minute you’re hot the next you’re cold, then you’re hot again, you can’t even blame him if he’s mad you’re coming in his car with an attitude.

“Your friend…” you start off, and it’s taking the strength of Joseline off Zeus Network to not start cussing and that’s one strong bitch to hold back from.

“What?” You hate how confused he sounds, he should already know what you’re about to say.

“You need to get him, like dead ass. I’m tired of his mouth.”

“Who?”

“Sukuna!”

“He said something to you?”

“Yes! This is like the second time too.” You throw your hands up in annoyance and he sucks his teeth at that. No shit he said something dummy, you wouldn’t be sitting here talking if he hadn’t.

“What he do now?” He leans back manspreading, like the conversation is already boring him. As if you fussing isn’t worth his time. You really don’t know him well enough to be getting hype and for damn sure don’t know what it takes to piss him off. He might have made a couple smart comments before, but up until now he’s been so patient with you…you probably shouldn’t be picking a fight. But you go on anyway…

“He keeps getting smart with me.”

“Saying what?”

“He came in saying some, fuck you doing here, when he saw me. Like who the fuck does he think he is talking to me like that?”

“I told you to stay in my room, did you say anything back?”

“Of course!”

“Then why are you so upset? It sounds to me like you already handled it.”

“Satoru…yo!” You can’t help but laugh…because oh my god…he doesn't know how fast shit can flip when it comes to you.

“Get your friend…” You start off bluntly, because shits really not a joke anymore.

“Like for real. Because I got an uncle back home that don’t play about me an—”, he cuts you off.

“I asked you the other day if you want me to say something to him and you said it wasn’t that deep. I asked you twice, didn't I?”

“Okay! But that’s ‘cause I didn’t think it was gonna become a problem. Now for whatever reason, he has an issue with me. I don’t know what for, but I know one thing, I don't take disrespect. So y’all both can do whatever y’all want with that information.”

“See, I can tell you don’t have brothers. You’re really mad over that little thing he said?”

“Satoru!” You can’t stress his name enough. What’s not clicking?

“Get your friend please! Because this shit…me and you? Uh-uh, it won’t be happening.”

“What you scared of him or something?”

“Are you!?” You hit back, because huh ? How many times do you have to say it? You can handle Sukuna on your own, but he’s acting like he’s too good to confront him on it.

“Alright. Alright. I’ll talk to him. I got it.”

“Thank you! Like c’mon ‘toru, you're actually cool as shit and I really am starting to fuck with you. I’d hate for some petty shit like that to get in the wa—” he turns his head before you could even finish, you can’t tell if it’s because of the new nickname that rolls off your tongue so effortlessly well or finally admitting to him you feel some type of way…but he’s blushing now…a shade of pink so faint if it wasn’t for the light of the nearby lamp post shining through the windshield you wouldn’t have even been able to see it.

“What, you blushing?” You tease, you’re surprised really, you can’t fucking believe it, that smooth player attitude he’s kept up since you met him done melted away like it was nothing.

“No.” He doesn’t even believe himself when he says it. How could he with the tip of his ears and his cheeks flushed a dust pink.

“Aw you blushing?” You lean in closer to get a better look and all he does is his turn away further, he’d snap his neck before he’d let you catch him. You should take a picture just to really get him for giving you such a hard time not even a minute ago.

“No.” He’s a liar and you can hear it in his voice. He knows damn well he’s blushing and why. You probably shouldn’t have told him you’re feeling him though, that’s exactly when boys take their chance to start acting up. Fuck it though, your player card already gone, you’ll cross that bridge if he ever takes you there.

“Oh my god. Yes you are, you’re really blushing, that's so cute!” You say it in the most fake disgustingly babyish voice possible just to irk him, even reaching over to pitch at his cheek too. You made him fucking blush and he can’t hide it! He’s blushing even more now with the tiniest smile starting to pull at his lips. How fucking adorable is that.

“I’ll talk to him, I’ll talk to him…” he swats your hand away. You go to lean back in your seat, you’ll leave it alone for now but you’re keeping this moment under lock and key tucked away in memory. You finally cracked it. Toru , that’s all it took to make him blush. Boy’s are so easy.

“But you fuck with me now?” He throws a look back at you ready to rub it in, you knew he’d hold it against you. Now you’re a blushing mess too and you know damn well you’re worse at keeping anything off your face. You can’t stand how easy he says it, because now he knows and he’s probably going to tell the whole world. You’re a fool for giving it up, but to see him blush like that was still worth it.

“Just shut up and drive.” You make a face rolling your eyes. He’s going to rub it in more, you already know. Y’all are both evil.

“Nahhh, you fuck with me. You said it. What do they be saying on the 'gram? Stand on it?” He cheeses so big, you love to see him smile, you really do.

“Oh my god…” Your hands come up to cover your face, you can’t help but smile though. He fucking got you back and you just about gave him the tools to do so. You can’t even be mad about it.

“You still want Wendy’s?” He puts the car in reverse to back out the parking space.

“Yeah, I think we can make it.” Wendy’s isn’t too far, it’s right outside the borough, which isn’t too big either. There might be a wait at the drive-thru with everyone outside tonight but hopefully there’s enough people back in the kitchen cooking.

“I don’t know why…but I have the biggest cramp in my back.” He says, shifting in his seat.

“Probably because you be fucking me too hard.” You joke, because yeah your legs are sore too but you’re for damn sure not going to admit that to him.

“Definitely not from that, that was nothing.” He laughs. Alright now! You roll your eyes at that.

“Maybe ‘cause you’re so tall.”

“Maybe…” He shifts again. Aw poor him, probably blew his own back out fucking you.

“All these people outside damn this–”

“Can I put on music?” You ask, you didn’t mean to cut him off, but not having music playing in the background is starting to kill you.

“Yeah, I don’t have an aux cord you have to connect it to CarPlay.”

You move to play around with the entertainment screen trying to connect your phone to it. This car is like a fucking spaceship. You see some of his boy’s and other people's names you don’t recognize in the list of previous connections. Guess your name is on two lists now.

“How do you go out every week? It’s got to be tiring.”

“What makes you say that?

“I don’t know, it seems like you do…”

“Always assuming. But it’s fun, I be with my friends, and we be having a good time. How come I never see you out here?” You’re going through your music library, you don’t know what to put on yet but you do know that you want it to be a vibe.

“Way too busy, and I don’t drink.” Is all he says and you have no choice but to take his word for it. You already know his major is harder than yours, just the intro class alone has been kicking your ass this semester.

“Nah I get it, that’s why I’m not out there now.”

“You could have gone, it was still early when we left the library.”

“You said you wanted to go back to yours?”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t gonna hold you if you wanted to go out.” Oh my gosh…can he shut up and stop playing. Now just act like you weren’t trying to take me back to yours to fuck me.

“Even if I did, I don’t really like what I have on so…”

“What? You looked good as shit when I pulled up.” He says it in such a way as if you’re crazy for even thinking you’d ever look bad a day in your life.

Oh my god…please…you’re going to ignore that.

“You could put on anything and still look good.” He takes his eyes off the road for a second to smile at you, but you’re still ignoring him…you’re like mentally blushing so hard right now.

“You still ain't find anything to put on yet?” He takes a hand and slips it between your thighs, you spread them apart in an attempt to get him to stop but he just moves his hand up further. He's not teasing, just holding you.

“I’m just going to shuffle any playlist.” You hit shuffle on one of Apple Music’s curated playlists and Through The Nigh t by Maeta starts playing. A little too slow for your liking so you hit shuffle again and settle on Offset’s Worth It . A couple more minutes of you two talking about random stuff goes by and y’all are finally pulling into Wendy’s drive-thru, and to your surprise no other cars are lined up.

“What do you want?” He asks, rolling his window down to read the menu. You can’t see clearly from sitting in the passenger seat, you lean over the center console a bit.

“Um…hold on I can’t really see it.”

“What, you wear glasses?”

“Contacts. I didn’t feel like putting them in today…wait can I…” You lean over his lap trying your best to read the menu, you hear him shift to lean his seat back giving you space.

“I’m just going to get what I always get.”

“Hi, just one moment!” A younger woman's voice comes through the drive-thru speaker. You can already tell they’re about to take forever back there. Just as you’re about to move to sit back in your seat she speaks again.

“Hi, sorry! What would you like to order?”

“You can go first.” You say to him.

“Just a six piece spicy nugget.” He says with his customer service voice on.

“Your sauce?”

“Uh...can I do sweet n’ sour?”

“We’re out of that tonight, sorry.”

“Here go the bullshit.” You laugh. You swear this place gets worse than McDonald’s on a late night.

“Just the nuggets then.” He sighs.

“You’re just going to eat them dry?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re freaky.”

“Watch your mouth.” He whispers, slapping your butt when he says it too. Shit…at least it sounds better coming from him.

“And for you miss?”

“Um…okay, do you have cold brew?”

“Ice coffee?” He snickers.

“No…it’s almost three a.m and we’re about to close.” Now you definitely ordered coffee this late from here before but okay girl, whatever you say.

“Okay, can I get a medium strawberry lemonade?”

“We’re out of that too.”

“What!” You huff. Satoru’s laughing now.

“They suck.” He whispers for only you to hear.

“I know…can I just get a sprite and a large fry then?”

“With ice?” She asks, and she’s dead serious too. Satoru’s cracking up now and you’re about to spazz, why the fuck would you want warm ass sprite?

“Yes!” You stress out then moving to sit back down, god you know it’s late and she’s just trying to do her job but is she dumb?

“Is that all?”

“Yes.” He replies back to her.

“Okay, second window.”

“You’re so mean.” He laughs out, hitting the gas to drive the car forward. You dig through your backpack to search for your wallet, pulling out a ten dollar note, the one time you have cash on you and it’s going right into Wendy’s hands.

“Hi, 9.80.” The young woman says as she opens the drive-thru window.

“Here.” You pass him the bill and he takes it, his own debit card already between his fingertips.

“I got it. Thanks though." He hands her his card, giving you the bill back and she moves to process the transaction.

“I was going to pay for it…”

“It’s like ten dollars, It's cool.” He waves you off. Guess money is not a problem for him then, what a gentleman…bare minimum but you’re starting to love it here.

“You forgot to get a drink.”

“Thank you, just a moment.” She hands him his card back.

“Can I share with you?”

“Sure…” You had to stop yourself from making a face at that, he can drink off you but can’t kiss you? Oh the fucking logic.

“You get five sips.”

“I paid for it!”

“You wouldn’t let me!”

“I’m taking thirty sips, just sit back and look pretty.” You’re going to punch him one day…

“You should have got a sweet tea…” he says.

“Ew…with fries?”

“Whaaaa!? Sweet tea is the best.”

“No. Just No.” You shake your head in disgust, how could he drink that? How!?

“You were just about to get an ice coffee, what do you mean!?”

“That’s not the same!”

“You’re right, it’s worse. Freaky ass combo.”

“You’re the freak.” Because ain’t no way he just about ate you off the bone not even an hour ago and is calling you the freak.

“Hell no, you are!” He laughs, and just as you’re about to clap back the drive-thru window opens again with the young woman passing him your drink and the bag of food.

“Thank you, thank you.” He says sweetly to her and she’s charmed. Poor thing, you can’t even blame her. His charm already worked on you too, that’s how your ass ended up here now.

“Are we parking here?” You ask as he hands you the food, you put the drink down in the cup holder.

“No, I got a spot nearby. I wanna spark up.”

“Okay.” You say going with the flow, you could do a blunt with your meal.

Where he ends up taking you isn’t even a secret. It’s a parking lot right behind the old post office building that you’ve been to plenty of times freshman year when you and your then circle of friends were too scared to smoke on campus out of fear of getting caught.

“I’ve been here before.” You say looking around, it’s still dark and creepy out here as before and you can barely make out anything in the distance with his car tints being so dark.

“With who? This my spot.”

“Definitely not your spot.” You say smart, everybody knows this spot.

“Pass me the raw’s in there.” He points to the glove department on your side and you go to open it.

“You don’t have a wood?”

“I think I got one left...you don’t smoke papers?” Digging in the middle console box.

“Not at all…unless it's a King Palm.”

“Y'all girls love those. Only one gas station out here sells them, tired of driving up there.” Damn…what bitch got him complaining?

“You got something flat like a notebook I can use? I gotta roll this real quick.” Finding the backwood pack he pulls a small mylar bag out too that has the bud in it.

“You can use this.” You give him a spiral notebook that you don't care about out of your bag and he takes it, putting it in his lap. Honestly, just watching him roll is making you horny. It isn’t even the action, but the movement of his fingers is what’s doing it for you. He’s licking the blunt now putting it together, you’re watching him like a hawk and he’s letting you, too concentrated on the task at hand. You need something else to look at before your panties get wet.

“You want your nuggets?” Reaching for the fries in the bag, just as you were about to fuck them up you find they’re cold to the touch. Disgusting!

“I'll eat them late–”

“The fries are cold.”

“For real? You want to go back?”

“It’s past three…” You sigh, looking at the time on the dash.

“Damn, you can eat mine then. I’m not that hungry.”

“Thanks.” You say sadly…but you hate spicy food so you roll the bag up and chuck it away. Reaching for your drink now you take a few sips and just as you’re about to speak again your phone vibrates, a FaceTime call from Utahime. You quickly hit decline but she calls right back.

“I got to answer this.”

“Go ahead.” Still busy working on the blunt.

“Utahime, you’re on speaker.” You get out quickly before she says something wild.

“Girl I don’t give a fuck, where you at?” She says, there’s commotion in the background, people around her talking and the noise of the Pandora bracelets she always wears jingling in the microphone.

“I’m at Wendy’s.” You lie, and you hear Satoru snicker.

“You’re lying. I got your location. Who are you with?”

“Why are you so nosey?”

“Nosey!? You told me you were going to be at the library ‘cause you had all this homework to do and not even an hour or so later I see you were over at West!”

“And I did finish, so what’s up?”

“Then why are you not home? Who are you with?” She’s yelling now, too drunk off her ass to hear herself and you have half the mind to hang up in her face again.

“I’m out ‘boutta smoke real quick, mind your business!” You try to turn the volume down but she’s still loud as hell, stupid ass iPhone.

“Bye girl, I know you’re with that fucking boy! Satoru! Bring my bitch home right the fuck now!”

“I’m hanging up.” You end the call right in her face. She’s so dramatic, but you can tell she’s more so upset that you ditched her, not the fact that you’re with him.

“Here.” He passes you back your notebook, finished with rolling the blunt, and to your surprise it’s pearled to perfection. Oh you really do love it here for real now.

“I don’t know how you live with that girl…” he starts, pulling out a lighter to light the blunt then blowing the flame out.

“...she’s got a crazy mouth on her.” He takes his first two hits then passes it to you and you hold it between your finger tips.

“She’s not that bad, she’s just playing.” But he’s speaking facts though, she’s a firecracker when she wants to be but you’d never chop it up with him about it.

“How!? She just cussed you out?”

“She ain't cuss me out.” You suck your teeth, Utahime knows you’ll knock her ass out. Whatever beef they have got him bitching.

“That is one scary little girl.” He shakes his head laughing, you take your hits then pass it back. Reaching for the sprite to soothe your throat.

“I’ll tell her you said that.” You tease, because don’t call my bestie scary or little!

“Don’t. Please. I do not need to hear her mouth.” He begs. You laugh at that because seriously, why is he so fucking scared.

“Then don’t poke the bear.” You joke. He passes you the blunt instead of responding and you happily accept it. Already feeling it in your system, this has got to be Yuuji's stuff, he really does have the best gas on campus. You want to ask what’s the deal between the two of them, all four of them even. But you don’t want to ruin this moment. Men lie so you’ll have to get it out of one of the girls eventually, you know it.

Time goes on as the two of you smoke, he’s rambling on about something his friends got into earlier this morning but you’ve already checked out of the conversation, you don’t give a fuck about them boys. His car is cozy and you feel warm and dizzy high off the blunt so you just let him talk as you sit and watch him with the biggest heart eyes on your face.

He’s so handsome…you could sit and listen to him talk for days. You’d happily play your role as his little listener if it meant getting your homework done and smoked out every night with dick on the side. Every time his hands drop to his lap your eyes travel down with them...you’ll eat his dick right now if you could and the more he talks the more you want too then before you know it you’re leaning in closer.

“What…?” He stops midspeech to look at you.

“Nothing…I’m listening.”

“What I say then?” He sinks down lower in his seat, his legs spreading further apart and wow just wow. You just might be a slut tonight, because the only thing on your mind right now is giving him head. He should know your ass was not listening!

“I don’t know.” There’s no point in lying, he could have been plotting to kidnap you the whole time and you wouldn’t have known.

“Because you weren’t listening.” He laughs.

“So?”

“Why you come closer then?” He tries instead, you can tell he’s baiting you but you’re trying to avoid answering.

“So I can listen.”

“But you’re not…so what’s up?” He takes a hand to lift your chin up to face him and you have no choice but to let him as you lean yourself up on the center console. You hate them so much, you wish cars didn’t have them, he’s still so far away.

“What? Tell me?” He continues pressing, you want it but you don’t want to say it out loud. Communicating…you’re good at it when you need to but when it comes to something like this you clam up.

“Whatever it is…I might already know.” He says smoothly, a challenging look in his eyes and you know better than to look away. You want it so bad. You’re almost there.

“What then?” You say, if he can bait you then you can too.

“You can say it. Stop being shy.” He moves to place a thumb on your bottom lip. Man, fuck it then.

“I want to suck it…”

“Yeah?” He pushes his thumb further parting your lips. He’s such a flirt, you should bite his finger off for it but it’s time to play nice.

“Mhm…” You wrap your lips around it instead, boy’s always tell you how good they look, you hope he thinks the same.

“Don’t let me stop you then…” He lets up off you and that’s all you need to be told to get down to work. He pushes the driver's seat back to give room to slide his pants and boxers down and as you come closer leaning over the center console, you can feel your knees digging into the edge of your seat as you reach to take him in your hand. It’s about to be your first time giving him top and you need to show out.

You don’t know what you like more, the sound of your mouth as you slurp him up or the clacking of your acrylic nails as you work his dick. He’s moaning now and you definitely like the sound of that better than whatever Bryson Tiller track is playing on the stereo.

He’s saying something to you but you can’t make out what it is, you’re too focused on sucking him off. He’s got one hand gripping your hair as you bob up and down, the other still holding the blunt and you pray none of that hot ash gets on you.

“You don’t have to be gentle…” He moans out as you come up to the tip again.

“Huh?” You’re taken aback by that, aren’t you already doing your best?

“Lemme show you...” He moves to hold the blunt between his lips then takes your hand to wrap both his and yours around him. “Squeeze the tip…like this…there you go.” He breathes out, you’re doing just as he directs and you swear you just heard his toes crack.

“Suck it while you do it too.”

Your mouth is back on him and you got him moaning like a bitch now, you might not be textbook smart when it comes to physics but if it’s one thing he can teach you right it’s how to suck his dick.

“Hold on…” he breathes, the blunt leaving his lips as he holds it between his fingers. The hand in your hair is gripping tighter now and you love having it tugged on.

“Fuck— you still want your drink?”

“No.” You pull off. An audible pop sound when you do too. He reaches under you for the cup. Hand still wrapped around his dick, you move to the side for him to get it. Taking the cup he drops the blunt inside and motions you to come back towards him.

Leaning back over you start up again, this time two hands coming to hold your hair up as you suck him. The more he moans the wetter you get and it's tonight you realize you actually love giving head, he’s doesn't even know how lucky he is.

“Pull these down.” He breathes out, moving to tug at the waistline of your pants. They're a tight fit, so they're not coming off easy.

“I got it…” You figure he wants to squeeze your butt while you give him top, so you move to do what he asks. Shimmying your cargos down then taking your shoes off he takes a handful of your ass and brings you closer to him, you’re completely hunched over the console at this point, your elbows digging into his thighs. Just as you’re about to protest being uncomfortable in this position you feel your thong being pushed to the side and his fingers slipping through your wet pussy. He’s finger fucking you like crazy now, didn’t even give a bitch a warning before he does it. Task at hand now lost, your slump over him moaning out his name with your ass tooted up as he continues curling his fingers deep in you.

“Fuck— shit…toru…wait!”

“Uh-uh…” He breathes out hot, slapping your ass on the last syllable too with his other hand. He’s hella deep now, digging dangerously close towards your cervix, you’d go back to sucking him off but your mind is spinning, nothing but the sound of your moans and the squish of your pussy as he fucks his fingers in and out of you is pleasing him.

Your pussy is soaked, sloppier than the mess you made all over his dick and he better stop before he makes a mess he can’t clean up. You can feel it coming on…the pressure of his fingers in you is just too sweet and he’s about to fuck around and find out if he doesn’t quit it.

“Toru…” You moan out, you’re holding onto the side of the car door, grabbing his thighs, gripping his knees, anything at this point to hold yourself up.

“Take it baby…you got it.” He slaps your ass again, he’s been so rough with you tonight and it’s turning you on even further.

“I can’t!” You nearly shout, even if anyone could hear you there’s no one in the parking lot too.

“You can, don’t tap out on me just yet.”

You throw your hair out of your face with that, don’t tap out…it’s fucking hot in here. You’ll die before you cum if he doesn’t crack open a window.

“Wet ass pussy, you gonna let me eat it again?”

“Yes!”

“Or you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes!”

“Pick one.” Bitch…both options sound great. Who the hell are you to choose? You can’t even think straight enough to answer that stupid question, he’s about to make you cum if he doesn't stop.

“Pick one.” He says again, and all you can do is babble out his name, two fingers still curling up in you and you swear by the end of this your pussy is going to be through till the weekend.

“Toru!” That feeling from before is coming back…a pressure that’s building up again.

“Yes baby? I’m listening.” Oh my god that made your pussy sing, the way he talks to you drives you crazy. His dick is rock hard and he won’t stop the pace he’s at fucking his fingers into you. It’s as if watching you come undone is what’s getting him off.

“You know, you’re such a princess when you’re not being mean…” he starts, and your ears perk up at the pet name.

“You cum on my fingers, I’ll let you slide for that lil attitude you had with me.”

“Toru…” You whine out, it’s not cumming that he needs to be worried about it’s—

“Fuck!” You feel his fingers leave you before you know it and you’re squirting all over his hand, down your legs, and onto his car seat. You don’t know if you should be embarrassed by yourself or mortified that you just soiled thousand dollar car seats.

“Shit— Wait wait hold on—”

“Huh?” Is all he says, wiping his hand on the back of your thigh then shifting to lift you up so you move to fall back into the passenger seat, you can feel the spot you soaked right underneath you and it’s fucking gross.

“It’s wet! It got all on your—”

“Get in the back.” He goes to pull his pants back up, then looks at you waiting for you to make a move. You know that look…you’re about to get fucked!

The car is wide enough for you to hop in the back instead of getting out and back in like he has too. He’s in the back with you now, waiting for you to sit in his lap so you move to completely take your thong off and the hoodie too.

“Don’t worry about the mess, I’ll get a detail soon…” He grips you at the waist as he takes you into his lap. His dick is flushed red against his stomach and you can’t wait to sit on it. You move your arms to wrap them behind his neck as you lift yourself up for him to slip his dick into you.

He fucks you nice and rough this time, holding your body close against his chest, gripping your hair and breathing your name hot in your ear while he does it too. Bouncing on his dick like this is going to make you cum quick and he knows it, he's already had you like this before.

“Toru!” You moan out. Getting dicked down in the backseat of his car was not how you thought your Thursday night would go when you woke up this morning. He’s deep in your guts and your mind is going crazy getting fucked down every single inch of him. Your high is already blown, the car is rocking now. This shit is getting wild.

“You still have an attitude?” He breathes out, looking you right in the eye as he says it too. You move to lay your head into the crook of his neck, but he pushes you to lean against the backside of the driver's seat. Your thighs are sore now and you’re scared you’re going to fall but you know he won’t drop you.

“You love this dick?”

“Yes!” You moan. What’s the use in lying acting like you don’t? He grabs your ass then, gripping one cheek in his hand with the other arm wraps around your back as he pushes you closer towards him.

“Show me then.” He slaps your ass, then grips you, letting his hand guide you as he bounces you on his dick.

“Get up when I say…” He moans out, you can hear that he’s close but you need to cum first.

“Oh my god, toru I can’t…I can’t I can’t.” You cry out. With how sore your thighs are you don’t even think you can get up. You hope he’s strong enough to get you off him before he busts.

His hips are snapping quicker now, he’s close and you are too.

“Up. Get Up.” He growls, pushing you up off his dick. Using his thumb he works to rub at your clit and you’re so fucking grateful for it. Looking down you see he’s pumping his dick, cumming all over his knuckles with some of it getting right onto your pussy. You’re cumming too now, thighs shaking as you do. You’re breathless. The hardest you’ve ever came fucking him thus far.

You’re done. You’re fucking done. You can’t take it anymore. You’re done!

“Fuck girl! Damn.” He breathes out, lifting you up to try and push you to the side. Moving over you take a seat next to him, god damn it’s hot in here.

“Check if there’s napkins in the bag. I got…shit I got it all over me.”

“Yeah…” He slaps your ass as you get up to reach for the bag sitting on the floor of the passenger seat. There’s a couple in there, you reach in the bag to pass him a few then lay a couple down on the seat where it’s still damp. Pushing yourself over the console to sit back in the front, you get your pants back on then try your best to get the rest of yourself back together. There’s no point in putting your thong back on, wearing them would feel way worse than the rough fabric of the cargos against your coochie.

Smoothing your hair down you hear him get back into the driver's seat. His pants are back on but he’s looking just as fucked out as you do, if not worse. Drake’s Spin Bout U is playing and he’s bopping to the beat.

Fuck your main page, what’s your Finsta? I wanna know the real you

You started dancin to pay your tuition, girl, I wanna know what you been through

You want a boutique or you wanna sell hair, just let me know what you into

“If you out in public and he want your number, just tell him my man’ll spin you!” He raps, playfully poking your shoulder. Looks like someone’s in a good mood now that they just nutted.

You swat his hand away and just before you can say something smart to him the sound of a FaceTime call cuts off the music, looking at the dash you see it’s a group call from The One’s and he presses the green button to answer it.

“Yoooooo! Gojo, where you at?” It's Sukuna’s voice. Please god, give you a fucking break.

“I’m out.” He says, turning the engine on.

“Out where?”

“He’s at the spot. I’m looking at his lo’ now.” You hear a voice sounding like Choso’s come through.

“The spot? With who? Bet not be with that one girl.” You make a face now…because who are they talking about?

“What girl, the tall one?” Choso asks, and before Satoru can reply Sukuna cuts in.

“Nah the new one.”

“Uhhhh—” His eyes widen at that.

“Her!? Gojo, you start talking to her yet?”

“Talk to her? Man, he already fucked her!” Sukuna laughs and your jaw fucking drops. What the hell! You turn to Satoru now, you’re about to knock his ass out if he doesn’t hang up the call right now but you know better than to speak up in hopes Sukuna doesn’t hear you. Whoever’s on the call is laughing now, you think you make out three voices.

“Man, Gojo…you gotta chill bro. Naoya texted me saying it’s a whole bunch of noise coming from the dorm asking if it’s me, I tell him nah bro, I’m not in there right now. Next thing I know he call me laughing, he's telling me some girl is in there getting cracked and she's loud as hell—”

Oh my god…your eyes are popping out their damn sockets now.

“I tell him nah bro, that’s my man Gojo. Y’all…this fool texted me a video of him standing outside the door recording as If I really want to hear that shit. I swear, something's fucking wrong with that kid.”

They’re all laughing again now and all you can do is just sit there and take it to the chin. Naoya…that furious beast looking mother fucker…ain’t no fucking way this is happening to you.

“Gojo, you got the entire floor group chat jumping with that shit—” Nah, you’ve heard enough, you’re seeing red now so you take it upon yourself to hang the call up.

“SATORU, ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS!” You scream, god you’re so fucking mad your head is about to spin.

“Why are you screaming at me for I ain’t even do anything!” He doesn’t even sound serious when he says it, he’s laughing…he’s actually fucking laughing

“You think that shits funny!?”

“No no no…It’s not–”

“Bro!? Yes you do! Oh my god—” You need to calm down. Calm down. Calm down. Breathe!

“You sat there and let him say all that shit about me! Satoru I swear to god, I’ma fuck you up, text him right now to delete that bullshit!”

“Alright. Alright. Alright. Chill. Chill. Chill.”

“No! Y’all fucking chill! All y’all do is ran y’all mouths talking about bitches, that’s so fucking childish!”

“What yo!? You probably let Utahime and your friends talk mad shit about us and I don’t say anything.”

“Are you serious!? Satoru, that is in no way comparable to what the fuck they just did!”

“But you ain’t denying it though!”

“What yo!? Shut up! All bitches talk shit about their girl friends hoe’s—” Oop, now you know you fucked up the second that word came out your mouth.

“Oh, so I’m just one of your hoe’s now?” He says sarcastically, his entire demeanor switching at that. You feel bad, but watching his face pull into a sad scowl is kind of funny.

“My bad…I aint even mean it like that.” You can’t hide the amusement in your voice either, the girls are going to piss themselves when you get around to telling them this. He looks pissed too, y’all can call it even now

“Yeah? Then how you mean it?” He puts the car in reverse, backing out of the space to drive off.

“What are you actually mad!?” Because no way he’s in his feelings over this. It was not that deep.

“I’m not one of your hoes.”

Yeah boy, okay!

“Then what are you?”

“You tell me.”

“Coulda swore I already did.” You say smart back, you can tell he’s not really mad, but if he is then he needs to tighten the fuck up.

“Put your address in. I’m taking your lil mean ass home.” He hands you his phone and you snatch it.

Y’all both ain’t shit.

[ham1lton]

semi charmed kinda life!

pairings: jenson button x driver!reader.

warnings: smut at the end. please don’t say i didn’t warn you.

summary: simple story. girl meets boy. boy is her older brother’s best friend. boy is off limits. then boy sees her all sweaty post race. you know the rest.

author’s note: quick request! i combined two requests into one :) wrote this on the train and i’m home now! hope u all enjoy <3 it’s very long :(

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

jenson didn’t consider himself to be easily distracted. when he was younger, absolutely. if a pretty girl winked at him or he saw a gorgeous vintage car, it could easily turn his head. yet, now he was in his forties, he liked to think he was pretty indestructible.

jenson knew you, of course he did. he was best friends with your older brother. they had met as they both karted when they were younger and when your brother had decided he wanted to go to university and have a normal job, they had kept the friendship going.

however, he didn’t interact with you a lot. he only knew you as the determined kid who drove circles around your brother.

that was all he knew, that you were really good and really busy. you lived up to your hype as you eventually became the first female f1 driver to win a championship. you didn’t race at the same time as jenson did, as there was a noticeable age gap between the two of you, and now as you’re nearing your late twenties, you’re also reaching your peak.

you easily land first place as you take off your helmet and shake your hair free. you smile and hug your team as they all encircle you as best they can. you looked radiant, winning looked natural on you.

jenson couldn’t stop looking at you. it was like a switch set off in his brain. y/n was hot? had you always looked like that?

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

as the crowd began to disperse, you caught sight of jenson standing off to the side. your smile widened and you made your way over to him. “jenson, hey! it’s been a while,” you said, pulling him into a friendly hug.

“y/n, congrats. that was an incredible race,” he replied, trying to keep his tone cool and casual.

“thanks. it feels surreal, honestly,” you said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “i never thought i’d get here.”

“you’ve earned it,” jenson said, meaning every word. “you’ve always been talented.”

“coming from you, that means a lot.” you said, your eyes sparkling with gratitude and … something else? but before he can think too hard, it’s gone and your assistant is by your shoulder. you look apologetic as you turn to go.

“say hi to your family for me.” jenson calls out after you. desperate for another second of your attention. you turn around and give him a wink.

“course i will. you’re practically a l/n now jenson.” you laugh, as you head into the garage, leaving him grinning after you like a little kid again.

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

later that evening, jenson found himself at the hotel bar, nursing a drink. it wasn’t as strong as he’d usually like it but it was enough.

the place was buzzing with post-race energy, filled with drivers, team members, and fans celebrating the day's events. he glanced around, half-expecting to see you among the revellers. just as he took another sip, you walked in, and he nearly choked on his drink.

you looked incredible. gone was the racing suit, replaced by a sleek dress that hugged your curves perfectly. your hair was styled effortlessly, and the confidence you exuded was even more noticeable now. you scanned the room, your eyes landing on jenson. a smile spread across your face as you made your way over.

"jenson, hi. mind if i join you?" you asked, your voice carrying over the noise of the bar.

"sure, please," he replied, hoping he sounded more composed than he felt.

you took the seat next to him, ordering a drink. he noticed you didn’t get an alcoholic one. "crazy day, huh?"

"definitely. you were amazing out there," jenson said, unable to keep the admiration out of his voice.

"thanks. it still feels like a dream," you said, your eyes meeting his.

for a moment, there was a comfortable silence between you, the kind that speaks volumes. jenson felt a rush of nerves, something he hadn't experienced in a long time. he was used to being in control, but you had a way of making him feel like a teenager with a crush.

"so, what's next for you?" he asked, trying to keep the conversation going. he turns towards you.

"celebrate tonight, then back to training tomorrow," you replied, laughing softly. "no rest for the wicked."

“i don’t miss that part.” he laughs, taking another sip and not ignoring the way your eyes watch him.

“what about you? mr button.” you say, crossing your legs. “what’s next for you?”

“now my racing days are behind me?” you nod. “commentating, business, mentoring and a bunch of other things. trying a bit of everything before i die.”

“sounds like you have your hands full.” you raise an eyebrow. “still, i bet you miss the track.”

“every day,” he admitted. “but it’s also nice to watch the next generation take over. like you.”

“you like watching me?”

“who doesn’t?” jenson smiles ruefully, like a kid who just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

you finished your drink quickly, and looked at your watch. you sigh. jenson’s heart sank slightly, wanting to keep the conversation going.

“i suppose i should get some rest. early day tomorrow.”

“oh, yeah, of course. don’t want to keep you up.”

“unless, would you like to join me?”

his pulse quickened as you looked at him. he smiled.

“i’d like that.”

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

you kissed as well as you drove. firmly, and in control. weird analogy but jenson’s brain was always in driving mode, even as you slid your hand into his pants. okay, maybe not then.

you grin into the kiss as he holds you tighter. he runs a hand through your hair as your hands encircle him. he breaks the kiss as he stands back for a second and wipes off your smeared lipgloss, he kisses you again enthusiastically as your grip on him tightens.

“god, you’re fucking gorgeous.” he moans as you stroke him.

“yeah?” you break the kiss to help him get undressed and for a moment, you enjoy the contrast of your clothed self versus his nakedness. “you thought about this?”

“maybe.” he has the audacity to look slightly sheepish as if that isn’t the hottest thing he could have said to you. your childhood crush is in front of you, admitting that he thinks you’re hot and that he’s fantasised about you. you drop to your knees as he gently puts your hair in a makeshift ponytail with his hand. the response he gives as you go down on him is more than enough to have your legs pressing together.

“wait! wait.” he says, breathlessly. you stop and look up at him with curious eyes. “i’m gonna cum if you continue. don’t have the same refractory period as i did when i was younger sweetheart. let me return the favour, yeah?”

you smile, all innocence, as your brother’s best friend peels the dress that you were wearing off your body. thank god you had prepared for this opportunity, you had worn your sexiest lingerie in the chance that this happened tonight. jenson kisses you harder, and you know he likes it.

after a moment, he’s between your legs and what’s left of your makeup is smudged. you’re at least seventy percent sure that your mascara has left your eyelashes and moved all over your cheeks. he’s gently pressing kisses to your clit through your panties, which are already wet with your arousal. he starts to lick at you slowly, through the material. he continues for a while, tongue pressed against you as you languidly grind your hips against his face. but it isn’t enough.

“jenson, please do something.” you cry out.

“i am doing something.” he smiles, faux innocence plastered all over his handsome face. he presses a finger against you, and removes it covered in your arousal. “she clearly likes it.”

“do it properly.”

“say the magic word, miss race winner.”

“please.” you sob. “please, please, please! is that good enough for you?”

“i was going to get you off regardless sweetheart.” jenson grins and you want to smack him, but then he peels off your panties and breathes in your arousal. before his face dives into your cunt, pressing his nose against your clit as he gathers your juices with his tongue. he enters a finger to stretch you open as you dig your hands into his greying hair to pull him closer between your thighs.

he adds a second finger, and then a third, and the stretch is delicious. he focuses his tongue on your clit as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. you knew you were close as you could feel the orgasm building in the pit of your stomach. almost like he knew, he started curling his fingers inside of you and letting you grind down even harder on his face.

when you came, you swore you could see stars.

jenson lets you ride his face through the aftershocks, and then he looks up at you, grinning, his chin still wet with your arousal.

“told you you’d cum.”

“yeah, yeah.” you wave him off breathlessly. “let me get you off.”

“i’m an easy man.” jenson shrugs as he moves up on top of you. “anyway you’ll let me have you, i’ll enjoy it.”

“i want you in me.”

the burn of him entering you is a welcome one. you thank god he prepped you well, it had been a while since you’d had sex and you needed the extra wetness. you can’t even focus on what he’s saying as he fucks into you. everything blurs as you watch him, you’re more focused on how sexy he looks and how good it feels. he kisses all over your neck and your lips.

“look at you.” he groans as he fucks into you harder. your back arches as he takes a nipple in his mouth. your heels dig into his lower back.

you can feel your oncoming orgasm as jenson presses a lazy thumb against your clit and when he looks down in wonder at his cock fucking into your messy cunt, your world goes white as you gush all over him. he fucks you through the aftershocks until he finds his own orgasm, body collapsing onto yours as you hold him close, stroking his sweaty hair.

“you okay? was that good for you?” you ask after a moment. he laughs breathlessly.

“you couldn’t be bad for me. i could have gotten off just lookin’ at you.” he turns to grin at you. “you were great. 10/10.”

“thanks,” you smile and press a kiss against his lips. “coming from you, that means a lot.”

his laughter rumbles through his chest and you can feel the vibrations. you can’t help but laugh too.

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

liked by bestie, ynswifey and 1,293,902 others.

yourusername: what’s better than one world champion? two.

view all 234,937 comments

user1: WHAT THE FUCK

user2: I CALLED IT

user3: mommy and daddy.

-> user7: all these bitches are their sons fr

user4: threesome perhaps? :)

-> user9: i need them both carnally.

user12: omggggg bagging her childhood crush AND another championship. yn ur MY goat.

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taglist: @23victoria @c-losur3 @imsiriuslyreal @f1withleire @kamabokogonpachro @sya-skies @dark-night-sky-99 @handsupforamiracle @lichterfee @namgification

[burrowdarling]

Avid Reader

Summary: what happens when a movie night turns into a book-to-life adaptation

Pairings: best friend!Joe x reader

Warnings: vague mentions of spice

Note: Hi everyone! Thank you for all of the love on my first fic, it means the absolute world to me. Things don't really get spicy in this one, but if that's something you all would be interested in I'm totally open to it. Feedback is welcome as always, enjoy!

Word Count: 1.4k

Check out my Masterlist here!

It was a chilly fall evening, curled up on your couch with your current read waiting for Joe to get out of practice. It was tradition that one of you held your weekly movie night, this week it happened to be you.

You’d been dying to get into the book since it came out a week prior, finally finding the time to devote to digging into it. It was romantasy with a good bit of spice, according to the reviews you’d seen from others, and so far, it’s lived up to the hype. The two main characters were finally going from enemies to lovers-literally. The male main character was saying all the right things to the female lead, your mind wandering into her shoes.

He had her pressed up against the wall, towering over her, whispering all of the unspeakable things he was about to do to her. You felt your cheeks heat and thighs press together as you continued to read on, things heating up between the two. It had been some time since you’d been with anyone, relying on your own means. You’d been so busy lately, not having much time to release any of your stress or frustrations.

Your mind continued to drift, thinking of Joe saying and doing those same things to you. You’d had the biggest crush on him since you were kids, only growing as you watched the amazing man Joe was growing to be. You felt that he had all of the qualities you could ever want in a guy, though you felt you’d always be stuck in the friendzone with him. There were times that you guys would playfully flirt back and forth, thinking nothing of it as Joe never made any other moves on you. You wondered what it would be like to really have him, all of him, for yourself. 

You heard your front door open and close, altering you that Joe had arrived from practice, pulling you out of your fantasy world. You felt a blush rise on your cheeks, aware that you were essentially reading what some would consider porn with your best friend in the other room. Not to mention the fact you were having the furthest from innocent thoughts about said best friend.

 Joe walked further in your apartment, looking a cozy as could be in his black sweatshirt and matching sweatpants. A smile crept up your face at happy you were to have Joe in your life, your longstanding friendship being something you cherished. You set your book upside down on the armrest of the couch as to not lose your spot to get up and greet him with a hug.

His hair was slightly damp from his post practice shower, a slight stubble on his cheeks and tinged a light pink from the crisp fall weather. His scent was intoxicating, something you would never get over. You could feel the firmness of his chest as Joe hugged you tight, wrapping his strong arms around you. You always loved Joe’s hugs, getting to feel how strong he was and how easily he could manhandle you if he wanted.

You released him, going to settle back on the couch. You needed a second to collect yourself after what you just read, thoughts of Joe in that position flooding your thoughts. You gently shook your head, trying to clear it as you felt the couch dip next to you, Joe claiming his usual spot. His presence felt closer than usual, chalking it up to your heightened senses, needing a second of space to clear your less than innocent thoughts of your best friend out of your mind.

“I’ll go get everything from the kitchen if you want to choose movie #1” you said as casually as you could. 

You hopped up off the couch to go grab the array of snacks you prepared in the kitchen, leaving Joe to pick the first movie. You took a second to 

As he went to reach for the remote to scroll through the options, he noticed your book resting propped open to save your place. 

Joe, figuring he would be a good friend, found your bookmark nearby and would properly mark your page. It was what he found on the page that stopped him in his track. You had left off on a particularly spicy scene between the two main characters, not thinking much of it when you got up. Joe, however, couldn’t stop thinking about you as he read.

You were Joe’s best friend since childhood, growing up together and forming a bond that could weather anything life threw at you two. Joe wouldn’t deny that he’s had a crush on you forever, only growing as you guys got older and emotions evolved. Joe also couldn’t deny that he felt you were the most gorgeous women he’s ever laid his eyes on.

Joe knew you liked to read, but he never imagined you read things like this. He always thought that they were romcoms like the movies. This was vastly different, not that he was complaining by any means. It gave him a glimpse into your mind and got him thinking about what you liked, what made your body tick. His arousal grew the more he thought about what you would look like in that position, your small frame towered by his taller one. Caging you in with his arms while he told you every dirty thing he’s ever wanted to do to you.

He heard your footsteps fast approaching from the kitchen, his heart rate quickening as he fumbled to grab your bookmark. At the sound of your voice, he turned to face you trying his best to compose himself.

“I got all of our favorites on deck. What movie did you decide on?” you asked while setting everything down on the coffee table. You looked up, eyes landing on your book in Joe’s hands. He held the bookmark in one hand, his fingertips marking your page in the other. You noticed a slight blush tinge his cheeks

“Oh I was just- I saw your bookmark on the table so I figured I’d put it in your book for you before we got ready for the movie” Joe stumbled over his words, his usually cool demeanor nowhere to be found. He felt completely flustered by the thoughts of the two of you as the main characters. Oh what he would give to be able to get out of the friendzone with you.

“Thanks, you do know you actually have to put it in the book to hold use it though, right?”

Joe looked down at his hands, realizing he never finished his task of putting it in and setting the book aside. His mind racing to figure out a way out of this situation. You were his best friend and that was a line Joe thought you’d never cross. How could you possibly like him like that? 

You smirked as you watched Joe trying to find the right thing to say, knowing he must’ve gotten curious about your current read. You took a brave step towards Joe, taking the book from his hands and settling your arms on Joe’s shoulders. You could hear his breath hitch in his throat at your contact. 

“What’d you think of the story?” you asked him, feeling his heart rate increase. “Did you imagine us in that scene too?”

Your question caught him off guard. Too? It felt too good to be true, figuring his hearing must have deceived him. You inched closer, Joe’s hands falling to your hips as you pressed up against him to reach his ear. 

“Wanna recreate the scene together?” you whispered in his ear, lips ghosting over the sensitive spot on Joe’s neck. 

Joe pushed all thoughts out of his mind about what would come after that, focusing in on the moment of your body and your words. He felt the shift from nervous to bold, catching your lips with his in a slow, passionate kiss. He could feel your breathing quicken as your hands latched into his hair, looking for something to ground yourself with.  

Your connection with each other was palpable with every touch and kiss you shared. When you finally broke apart, Joe rested his forehead on yours. Taking this moment for you both to catch your breath and wrap your minds around this moment. 

“God, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that” Joe sighed in content as his hand drifted up and down your back. 

“What else have you wanted to do?” you asked innocently, your eyes telling a different story.

Instead of giving you a response, Joe picked you up and carried you off to your room the idea of movie night long forgotten.