#there had to be a least a few of them crossing their fingers

[zorosangell]

⛥ﾟ・。 nightgown

synopsis: after two wonderful years with the swordsman, you're reluctant to let him go, especially without telling him how you feel. luckily, he feels the exact same way... and more than accepts your scanty going away present.

cw: part 2/3, nsfw, fluffy fluff, comfort, reader is FIONE, reader is also real as hell, zoro is a fiend, mihawk is such dad, this was so fun to write.

a/n: tagging: @that-b-word-lol @ihatespidersdie I NEED THIS MAN UNDER MY TREE

"C'mon, (y/n), they're not gonna fight if you keep playing with 'em," Zoro sighed, removing his sword from his mouth as he crossed his arms over his chest.

You giggled, unable to fight off your smile as you danced with the humandrills, relishing in their happy snorts and yips as the leader of the gang—Chuki—picked you up and placed you on his shoulder, happily parading you around.

"Sorry," you grinned, clapping with approval as a few of the others performed back-flips and cartwheels to keep your attention. "I was coming out to check on you guys."

Just then, Chuki let out a howl of excitement, wanting to join in on the fun.

Without warning, he launched himself into a somersault, completely forgetting you were on his shoulder and sending you flying.

'Not again...'

Zoro moved like he'd done this a hundred times—which he had—effortlessly shooting himself up and catching you in mid-air, bridal style.

"Every time?" he asked, raising a brow.

"I'm gonna miss this," you chuckled, looping an arm around his neck as he landed.

"The hell are you gonna do when I'm gone?" he carefully put you down, crossing his arms over his chest once again. "I'm not gonna be here to keep you from falling on your face."

You shrugged, turning to Chuki with a wide smile as he gave you a high five, "I guess I'll just have to learn how to land on my own."

"HA!"

The swordsman scoffed, shoulders bobbing with laughter as you snapped your head over to him, less amused.

"The girl who can barely hold a sword? I'd love to see it."

"Hey!"

"Hu hu hua!" Chuki mimicked, turning to you with an incredulous look. "Ooh, ah ah ah, hua!"

"I know right," you agreed, resting a hand on your hip as you glanced at the swordsman. "And smelly, too..."

"WHAT WAS THAT?!"

Gloom Island was known all-throughout the Grand Line as an abandoned island, its kingdoms having brought themselves to utter ruin after years of war.

Your parents had even been drafted, and, of course, killed in the line of duty.

But, by fate or by fortune, you had managed to survive, living through most of your childhood as an orphan in a battle-ravaged kingdom.

Until, eventually, you were the last one standing.

Alone, you searched for any survivors, managing to stumble across a devil fruit along the way before meeting the humandrills.

The Speak-Speak fruit allowed you to become fluent in any language from the moment you heard it spoken aloud—animal language, included.

So, after meeting them on their level, the monkeys took you in, protecting you and treating you as one of their own until Mihawk came along not too long after, taking up the role as your father-figure and mentor.

Naturally, he tried to teach you some swordsmanship, but you lacked... talent, to say the least.

"I've gotten better since the last time we trained together!" you bellowed, proudly, as you picked up a sword, lowering yourself into an offensive stance. "Look!"

"Your posture's off," Zoro noticed, off-rip, "And your feet are too far apart."

Breath hitching, your face glowed with embarrassment, your body practically freezing in place.

'Shit!'

And just as you were trying to prove a point...

"Here," he instructed, getting up behind you and pressing his hand into the small of your back, straightening you up. "Like this."

Your spine shivered at his touch, the thick pads of his fingers practically burning into your flesh, despite the fabric separating them.

"Pull your feet a bit closer... it will firm up your stance... And if you're facing an enemy head on like this, you're gonna want to be upright."

"Okay!" you squeaked, doing your best to make the adjustments without physically combusting.

Carefully, you pulled your feet in shoulder width, and used his hand as a guide to straighten up your posture.

"Good," he commended, his arms suddenly coming around you grab your hands, helping you fix your grip on the sword. "Now when you swing, I want you to step into it."

You felt chills when his hands touched yours, years of work evident in his rough, calloused flesh, which held yours with the gentlest touch.

Turning to glance at him, your eyes came up to meet his once more, telling a story that made you just want to sit down and listen.

You studied his facial features up close—for about the fifty-millionth time—taking note of everything you had come to admire in the last two years.

The slight pink of his tanned lips...

The strength of his jaw...

The faint scar that rested on the tip of his shoulder, not that such a detail could be picked up unless one was really looking.

You felt like the staring going on for ages, but you didn't want to look away, and neither did he.

He, too, was studying your face.

And, deep down, he never wanted to look away.

"Dinner is ready," your father's voice cut through the air, draining all the color from your face.

Instantly, you and Zoro quickly threw yourselves off each other, heat rising to both your faces as you turned away, embarrassed—and slightly scared for the swordsman.

Mihawk fixed Zoro with a sharp glare, sizing him up as if he was some sort of delinquent.

He had been suspicious of you and the swordsman since the moment he arrived, particularly suspect as to why you felt so inclined to help him.

He knew you were a smart girl, and wouldn't disregard everything he had ever taught you about being safe without a valid reason.

A valid reason being a handsome man, in this case.

Still, what was he supposed to expect?

You were a woman now—no matter how difficult it was for him to accept—and women had... needs.

Mihawk shivered at the thought, quickly purging it from his mind as he turned on his heel, power-walking back toward the castle.

Not under his roof...

"Don't dawdle... it'll get cold."

Knock! Knock! Knock!

"Come in," Zoro called, not moving from his spot resting peacefully on his bed, his hands tucked behind his head.

"Happy Going Away/Leaving To Reunite With Your Friends Tomorrow Day!" you smiled, carefully entering his room while holding a plate with a comically large onigiri on top, a sparkler sticking out of it. "I know you don't like cake, so I brought the next best thing!"

Warmed by the display, Zoro sat up, trying and failing to fight the smile rising to his lips as you approached.

'Adorable...'

"(y/n)... you didn't have to do all his," he started, not knowing what to say as you handed him his gift.

"I know that. But I figured you deserved something special to commemorate all the hard work you've done," you nodded, sheepishly. "You put up with my dad for two years... of your own free will... that alone is its own achievement."

Letting out a small chuckle, the swordsman suddenly found his eyes drifting to you, only to be met by your pretty, (e/c) eyes staring down at him, the entire room fading around you two.

He barely believed his eyes as he drank you in—your appearance sinful enough to make the devil sweat.

Instead of your usual long, black dress, you wore a tiny, black nightgown, which accentuated your luscious, curvaceous body and exposed the enticing flesh of your thighs.

You paired the little number with some black pumps, which he bet barely made you taller than him if you were to stand up.

The moonlight pouring in from the window illuminated your skin and glossed up, plump lips at curled into a nervous smile at the sight of him.

Topped off with the sweet silkiness of your voice; the way your body sensually moved; how you smelled of cocoa butter and vanilla.

Quietly, Zoro cursed under his breath, practically reeling.

God, if the last two years were anything, they were a testament to his willpower...

He had never felt this way before.

So distracted.

So obsessed.

You plagued his mind every hour of the day, the thoughts ranging from wholesome to downright scandalous.

Seeing you around the castle, watching the movement of your hips and the graceful slide of your hands, making him feel extremely stiff.

'Christ...'

He tried not to think of you like that.

You were the daughter of his sworn enemy, and a sweetheart, at that...

You deserved a nice guy, one that had a regular life, with a regular job and regular urges.

Not a jaded pirate like himself.

But you were just so damn alluring, he couldn't help himself.

"What do you think you're doing?"

You blinked once, coming out of the trance the man had put you under with a confused raise of your brow.

"Huh?" you asked, dumbly, your mind having turned to mush in the five minutes you were staring at him.

"I said," he pointedly repeated, placing the plate down on his nightstand before standing to his full height, towering over you. "What do you think you're doing?"

Nervous, your manicured hand wrapped around your arm, the swordsman's mind immediately traveling somewhere else.

"I... don't know what you're talking about," you muttered, eyes drifting away from him.

You tried to think quick, scouring your mind for some sort of excuse as he fixed his gaze on you like a predator would his pray.

You knew you couldn't chicken out now.

Especially after all the work you put into getting ready.

"You come in here..." he started, slowly pressing forward, forcing you to step back in order to keep some air between you two. "Dressed like that... just to give me a going-away present?"

You swallowed, thickly, continuing to move backward as he continued to invade your space, his eye cutting you down to size like a cat does a mouse.

"What are you trying to do?"

You turn away slightly, pulling your soft, glossy lip into a nervous bite.

"I just... wanted to look nice... for you," you muttered, resting your hands behind your back.

"Did you, now?" he cocked a brow. "Y'know... after all this time, I think I've finally got you figured out."

With a squeak, your back met the wall, forcing you to stay put as the swordsman caged you in, his muscular body leaving no route of escape.

"I think... you're a sweet girl, who's never met a pirate before, or been allowed outside the confines of this island, that thinks that she can stick it to her father by flirting with the man who is hellbent on taking him down."

Zoro raised a brow, cockily, a teasing smirk rising to his lips.

"How's that? Am I in the ballpark?"

"Hardly," you denied, a small air of confidence returning the wind to your sails.

It caught his attention immediately.

"I may be sweet... and you may be my father's rival... but you forget that I am I woman."

His breath hitched, eye widening slightly as you pulled yourself off the wall, taking your turn to move forward and regain some ground.

"A woman who's been lonely for quite some time... a woman who enjoys your company more than she'd care to admit... a woman who's never had more fun than in the two years you've lived in her house..."

You rested your hand against his chest, the swordsman scared you would feel his heart beating against his rib-cage.

"A woman who's found herself falling in love with the idiot that crash landed on her island..."

Eye wide, Zoro flushed at your boldness, looking away from your intense, (e/c) eyes.

"You don't mean that..." he attempted to rationalize, suddenly unable to comprehend the possibility of you actually liking him.

This had to be a trick.

You were just doing this to piss off your dad...

Right?

You stared at him with hooded eyes, flashing him a bashful, crooked smile that nearly had him melting into the floor.

"If I didn't... do you think I'd be standing here right now?"

The floodgates were opened.

Wrapping an arm around your waist, Zoro roughly yanked you forward, pulling you into his chest as you let out a gasp of surprise.

"You're playing a dangerous game," he warned, holding himself back by the thinnest string of his sanity. "If we do this... there's no going back. And after tomorrow, you won't see me for who knows how long..."

He looked you up and down, giving you a stare that would make any woman weak in the knees.

"You gonna be okay with that?"

Seriously, you nodded, looking up at him with sparkling eyes that nearly set his heart on fire.

"Alright, then... no holding back."

And he took "no holding back" with the utmost seriousness, managing to make you cum three times throughout your night in his room.

The first time was on his couch, coaxing you to bend over and let him massage and spank your soft, jiggly ass, which he swore was heaven sent when he plunged his tongue into your velvety folds, relishing in your soft moans and desperate grinds into his face.

The second time was in his bed, your legs pinned down onto the mattress while he tailed you, his cock plunging in and out of you as his arms wrapped around your body, allowing you to feel safe and comfortable while he dicked you down, feeling feral at the sight of your smooth tummy and soft tits.

The third and last time—because your virgin self simply couldn't take anymore—was when he bent you over and fucked you from behind on the foot of his bed.

His hands held your hips while he leaned over, physically holding you up on your jelly-like legs.

Your hands frantically fisted the sheets as he pounded into you, his firm thighs meeting your ass cheeks as he fucked you like there was no tomorrow.

Because, to him, there wasn't.

"F-Fuck! Oh, my God! Right there!" you sobbed. "Yes, please! Right there!"

He watched your pretty face contort in pleasure, loving how soft you felt pressed against him, and how you sounded moaning from the lips he'd been kissing all night.

"Nuh-uh," he huffed in your ear, leaning down to nip at your lobe. "S'not God that's doin' this, pretty. Who's really makin' you feel good?"

"Zoro!" you moaned, a pitiful whine following after. "H-How are you so good at this?"

He grinned, becoming cocky at seeing you lose your mind on his dick.

"You tell me," he teasingly ordered. "How good am I?"

SMACK!

The sharp sound of his hand connecting with your ass cheek made you let out a harsh groan of pleasure, your pussy clenching around him.

"So good!" you gasped, the sensations too much.

Feeling you tighten around him, Zoro let out a harsh grunt, fighting off the moan ready to leave his lips.

"Christ... body's so fuckin' perfect," he groaned, kneading one of your tits in his calloused hand as he sped up, hitting that spot inside of you that made you see stars. "Look at you... so damn pretty."

"Oh, Zoro! I can't!" you moaned, bottom lip quivering at the coil in your stomach wound tighter and tighter. "I can't...Z-Zoro, m'gunna! M'gunna—!"

"You gonna, gonna what?" he chuckled. "You wanna cum for me again?"

You pathetically nodded, forcing his grin even wider.

"So greedy..."

But so was he.

He would fuck you all night if he could, but he was reaching his limit same as you.

"Cum for me, (y/n)," he ordered, huskily, as he leaned down to your ear, slamming into you harder and you frantically rubbed your clit. "I'm close, too. Rub that little pussy and fuckin' give it to me, baby!"

It doesn't take long for him to blow his load inside of you, flooding you with cum that dripped down your thighs.

His moans of pleasure triggered you, causing your pussy to quiver and flutter around him as you came.

A moan of his name and a few swears left your lips as you rode it out, coating his cock in your sticky juices.

Turning around, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into you in a tender moment of bliss.

Pressing his lips against yours, his hand came up to cup your cheek, the embrace feeling like nothing short of a goodbye.

When your highs finally subsided, Zoro gently pulled out of you, making your pussy spurt out his cum.

The sight nearly made him hard all over again.

'Fuuuuck...'

"Sorry," you groggily apologized, already half asleep as you laid down, your half-lidded, (e/c) eyes still sparkling in the moonlight.

Amused by your fucked out state, he scooped you up, effortlessly, carrying you up to the head of the bed and placing you down among the pillows.

With a yawn, he climbed in with you, stomach faintly fluttering as you rested your head on his chest, nuzzling tightly into his side.

"M'gonna miss you, Zoro," you softly said into the quiet, dimly lit room, "...A lot"

Carefully, he rested his hand on your back, his thumb drawing mindless circles into your skin.

As much as he loved this—your company, your touch, you—he knew that come morning, he would still have to leave.

He had a dream, and an obligation to the family he called his crew.

He couldn't just abandon that.

His brows furrowed, a look of determination settling on his face.

But that didn't mean he couldn't make you a promise.

"I'll come back for you," he stated, plainly, without a doubt in his mind. "When I'm the Greatest Swordsman... and when Luffy's King of the Pirates... I'll come back for you. And I'll take you out to sea, and show you all the places you read about in your books."

Looking up at him, your sleepy eyes sparkled with a glimmer of hope, nearly turning him into a puddle.

"Really?" you asked, adorably.

With a nod, he pecked a soft kiss on your hairline, before leaning back into the pillows.

"Really."

BONUS!!

"Oi, Chuki!" Zoro called as he walked through the ruins, knapsack thrown over his shoulder. "Come out here! I gotta talk to you about somethin'!"

The swordsman had left his room in the wee hours of the morning, managing to wiggle out your grasp and clean himself up before placing a tender goodbye kiss on your forehead, leaving you to sleep.

The previous night introduced some new feelings to him, and if he was going to get a lick of sleep out at sea, he needed to take care of one final thing.

"C'mon! It's about (y/n)!"

At the sound of your name, the large humandrill immediately showed himself, jumping out from behind a stone column with a loud whoop, which sounded eerily like what's wrong.

"With me gone... and with Hawk-Eye on his trips for the Navy... (y/n)'s gonna be on this island all by herself," Zoro started, brows cinched together, seriously.

This was the only thing that was going to quell his worries.

"I don't know what's gonna happen in the next few years, but if any pirates, or even the World Government, come stickin' their noses around this place... you send them flyin', you understand?"

Using the handle of his sword, he pointed toward the castle, where you slept peacefully, safe and secure.

"No one goes near her. No one even makes it to the castle. You fight like your goddamn life depends on it, alright? 'Cause it does."

Surprised, the monkey swallowed thickly, especially when the swordsman's eye landed on him with the harshest glare he had ever seen.

Even harsher than Mihawk's.

"I come back here and find out that she got hurt on your watch... you, and all of your monkey pals, are finished... Understand?"

Frantic, and terrified, Chuki chittered in agreement, rigidly saluting the man for confirmation.

With a proud grin, Zoro nodded, continuing on his trek to the shore as he waved to the baboon, along with the hundred others fearfully watching from the trees.

"Good... I'll see you guys around."

[tadpolesonalgae]

Hibernate

Azriel x reader: Drabble

word count: 660

————————

He finds her huddled on the floor, collapsed in front of the fireplace atop a furred rug. 

The coals are a dark red, broody and dying, simmering with slowly declining heat while the flames finish their meal. 

Her arms quake around her shoulders, ankles crossed tight as her toes tangle together, squeezing herself into an impossibly small shape, head bowed. No energy to make it to bed, so giving out before the fire. At least this time it wasn’t on the kitchen floor—her hip had been aching all through the next day, and had hindered her sleep that night. 

Azriel has no need to muffle his steps, he knows she can’t hear him right now, and doesn’t want to startle her. Her heart is thumping loud enough as it is. 

Instead his shadows slide forward, softly roving across the rug to slip and tangle with her limbs, gently interleaving themselves with her space. It takes a while, but eventually she’s all wrapped up, and Azriel can move forwards to roll her into his arms, palm cupping her shoulder, fingers dipping beneath the curve of her knee, pressing her side into his chest as he lifts her from the floor and walks her down the corridor to his room. 

Tears collect beneath her jaw, and his fingers come away soaked when he tries to dry them. 

Shadows pull back the blue, cotton covers, and he wishes his bed were warmer for her. That it was softer, and heated, so she could be comfortable. 

Azriel seats her on the mattress, wings tucking in closer as he dips onto one knee, palm wrapping around her ankle while his fingers dip into her sock, guiding it free before repeating with her other foot. His palms slide around her waist, standing her upright, hands taking the skirts of her dress with him as he gets to his feet, shadows loosening the ties at her back so her skin is free and she can breathe. The dress comes easily from over her head, darkness swiftly shifting to move dampened locks from her cheeks. 

Her arms gather around his waist, and her head dips against his chest. Her lungs tremble with each inhale, wet lashes shaking with every tremor, lips quivering as sadness seeps deeper into her bones. Azriel pauses, wanting to get her quickly into bed, and wrap her up where she’ll be happier, and warmer, and better able to rest. But he can’t push her away. 

Azriel wraps his arm around her upper back, head dipping to gaze down at her muffled form. His palm soothes up and down her spine, putting a firm pressure into her back to remind her where she is, fingers collecting around her upper arm while his thumb strokes back and forth, allowing her to grasp onto the senses. 

Slowly, he lifts her into his arms, shadows doing what his hands cannot as they slowly strip him of his clothes, Azriel keeping her tucked to his chest for as long as he can until darkness tugs at the ties of the slat below his wings. Once more, he sets her down on the mattress, this time guiding her to settle herself deep into the dip of the bed—one much larger and deeper than what she would make—and she fills the space he’s created hungrily. Desperately. 

Azriel makes quick work of ridding himself of the last few layers before silently moving to the opposite side, and sliding in beside her.

Her feet are icy when she presses them to his bare legs, fingertips like snow-capped fungi as they crawl and search across his chest and shoulders, grasping at his heat as she curves herself into the space he can give her. 

Her inhales turn deeper, pulling lungfuls of air down into her body, allowing them to slowly dissipate throughout her bloodstream.

Treasuring each pull of his scent; submerging herself in as much of him as she can. 

————

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[sun-kissy]

okay, so i'm here for a an ask for each of your cutesy celebration, so be ready for a little spam ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

first, since you seem a bit cold so lemme wrap you with a

🧣scarf with Sirius and could the prompt be "wanna cuddle? you know, just to keep warm." and "so, how much longer do you plan on using me as your personal space heater?" from the cold prompts

love you very very much, san (๑>◡<๑)

ivy, my love! here's your scarf, thank you so much for the request <333 🧣

forever | s.b.

— "Wanna cuddle? You know, just to keep warm." & "So, how much longer do you plan on using me as your personal space heater?"

sirius black x reader

summary: you're cold, and you're in love with sirius

tw: smoking, fluff

Sirius sighs and tips his head back, wisps of delicate smoke rising from his lips. You knew angels would fawn over his loveliness if they could see him like this. He brings the cigarette away from his mouth, catching your stare with a smile. “No cigarettes in the house, I know.”

“I’d really prefer no cigarettes at all, but yeah, that’s the bare minimum,” you murmur, placing his mug of coffee on the table before curling up on the other end of the couch with yours.

Sirius was at your place for the holidays. Your roommate was out for the week, and you hated spending Christmas, or anything really, alone. James was back home with family and Remus was celebrating it with his girl. That left Sirius. Just Sirius, which did awful things to your heart.

He flashes you another grin, and this time has the dignity to look at least slightly apologetic. He doesn’t snuff the cigarette out. You don’t ask him to.

You lean back with your gaze on him, holding your breath so as to not inhale anything you wouldn’t want to. Sirius stares back at you.

“What?”

“Nothing! Just —“ you exhale, scrunching up your face. “At least blow it away from me?”

“But then I can’t look at your pretty face,” he retorts, tilting his head teasingly.

Your heart twists someway crummy behind your ribs. “Sirius.”

“Okay, okay,” he huffs out, shifting slightly so he’s facing the television. “Happy?”

“Very. Thank you,” you mutter, rolling your eyes when he chuckles and shakes his head.

A couple of minutes pass by, a comfortable silence falling over the two of you. He stares at the wall; you at him. Sirius is always pretty – but prettier like this. You know it’s impossible, but his cheekbones seem to soften when the smoke leaves his pale lips. His eyes flutter shut when he sighs.

You feel your heart swell a little, like the poisoned gas he’s blowing out is filling you up in the shape of love.

Sirius catches you. “What now?”

“Nothing.”

You pause. Christmas was tomorrow. A few other friends would be coming over, and you’d lose Sirius in the sea of them. He’d pack his bags and leave the next morning, and you’d lose him from your apartment. But you had him today. His heart sat unguarded, in plain sight. Maybe he had girls left, right and centre latching their claws onto it the moment he stepped out. But for tonight, you could take it with the tips of your fingers, hold it in the palm of your hands and cradle it close to yours.

“Actually,” you speak up. Sirius startles, looking back around at you curiously.

“Do you wanna…” you clear your throat, smoke from his pretty lips blowing over you like a fog. A fog you’d love to get lost in. “Wanna cuddle? You know, just to keep warm.”

He looks confused for a moment, and you’re sure you’ve screwed it up. Sirius was never going to come over again, and he’d warn Remus and James not to either. You were going to end up a loner with a broken heart.

“Sure.”

You blink, surprised. “Huh?”

Sirius smiles, and it’s every lovely word you could ever think of. “I said sure. Get over here, babe.”

It should’ve been embarrassing how quickly you crawled over to him, but you can’t feel it right now, every little bit of your heart taken up by some form of love. The fat of your thigh melds into his as you press up to him cross legged.

Sirius is always gentle with his touch, but somehow kinder now. He snuffs the cigarette out in the ashtray on the table; the one you bought just because he always came over. He curls his palm around the curve of your hip, and you think maybe that’s what your love handles were for, for him to love.

“You good?”

I’m more than good, I’m happy. I love you. “Yeah.”

“Good,” he murmurs, pulling you impossibly closer. You’d say your heart was doing flips; but you can’t feel it from how hard you’re squished up against him. You let yourself close your eyes. 

You stay like that for a while. Sirius is thinking about warming you up, you are thinking about how much love he had to have for you, to let you hug him on a random Tuesday and hold you like you’re fragile. Too much love. Not as much as you, though, you’re sure of it.

“So,” Sirius starts softly, as soft as his touch where he’s rubbing your hip. “How much longer do you plan on using me as your personal space heater?”

There’s an undertone of teasing you decide to ignore. It’s laden with love, and love is all you need. “As long as you’ll allow.”

“Hm,” he muses, lips quirking up as he wraps his other arm around your waist too. It’s your lucky day, you think. “My arms have no curfew, sweetheart. They’re content to hold you as long as you please.”

You smile. Sirius can’t see it, but he can feel it. You mumble something incoherent as you turn your face into his chest, but it sounds suspiciously like forever.

san's christmas sleepover

[miya-cs]

I'm going to cut my hair - LH44

Fem!Reader with curly hair x Lewis Hamilton

Your hair stresses you out, but thank goodness Lewis knows the right way to calm you down again.

Warnings: none, like, just cute, I wrote this to comfort myself.

“SHIT!” You scream, frustrated.

Your curls fall over your shoulders, at least half of them. The other half is still pinned up on top, and a strand hangs like a dead weight in your hand.

“I hate this, seriously! EVERY TIME!”

You look in the mirror. One side is well defined, perfect curls showing off. It was so easy to leave them like that… but then comes the other side. You run the brush through it once, twice, three times, and the curls are still kind of shapeless, lifeless, colorless.

Curly hair sometimes has different textures. Which makes it difficult to define the curls. Sometimes a brush works, sometimes you even curl it with your fingers. Sometimes, however, it seems like nothing works.

Sometimes you cope well, but sometimes—like today—you’re in a terrible mood, have low self-esteem, and have zero patience to deal with him.

Lewis woke up from his sleep at your distant scream. He was half sitting, half lying on the couch, Roscoe on his lap enjoying the affection he was giving him before falling asleep. Just the pilot’s presence was comforting in itself.

It didn’t take a few minutes for you to emerge from the room, your curls spread out and voluminous, and your eyebrows furrowed.

“Lew, I’m going to get my hair cut.”

Lewis nods calmly as you continue talking.

“Girls on Pinterest make it look so easy, but my hair hates me, seriously! Lew, I untangled one side, and I went to untangle the other, and when I went back to the first one, it was already tangled again!”

Your hands move passionately as you continue to list countless reasons why you want to cut your hair.

“Honey,” he smiled, that smile on his lips, which made his cheeks high and made his eyes shine as if they were crowned with stars. The same smile that won you over so long ago, and that still managed to disarm you. “Come here. Let me finish for you.”

“No, Lew… you’re tired, I don’t want to bother you. It’s a lot of hair, babe.”

“Am I too old to handle defining my wife’s curls?” He arched his eyebrow. You crossed your arms, smiling.

“But you’re old, Lew.”

Your boyfriend rolled his eyes, and you laughed as you headed to the bedroom, returning excitedly to get your things.

For now, you had even forgotten about your stress. Lewis loved your hair. He loved being able to share your pain, your problems, your struggles and conflicts.

Lewis loved you.

Lock by lock, curl by curl, time passed as he combed, his fingers sliding through his hair carefully. The sensation of the cream was strange, but nothing that bothered the pilot too much.

“There you go, Honey,” he said after finishing your hair.

You didn’t even hear him, too excited as you cooed at Roscoe, who was on your lap, happily accepting the affection that was offered to him. Lewis smiled at the sight.

There was nothing better than being home.

[gothamite-rambler]

The younger siblings watching Home Alone with Dick and Jason

Damian remained silent while watching Home Alone, popcorn in hand. He wanted to ask questions but held off for the right time. That right time came when Tim spoke first.

Tim (frowning at the screen): Why didn't he call the cops again?

Dick (annoyed, rolling his eyes): Because if they failed the first time, why would they actually succeed the second time?

Tim (leaning forward): Well, why couldn't Kevin's parents just call him?

Jason (chiming in, crossing his arms): It was the eighties! Phones back then barely held a signal across the state. There was no way they could afford or manage to call Kevin in Paris. He could make local phone calls.

Tim (scrunching his face in confusion): Okay, but why order pizza and not call the cops? And why did he think he made his family disappear?

Jason and Dick (in unison, raising their voices): HE'S A FUCKING CHILD!

The room went silent for a few seconds as Tim tapped a finger on his knee, contemplating.

Tim (breaking the silence, looking genuinely puzzled): Why didn't the pizza man call the cops then?

Dick (sighing, pinching the bridge of his nose): Ugh, why are we having this conversation?

Jason (frustrated, shaking his head): Okay, why the fuck would the teenage pizza boy risk his minimum-wage ass for robbers who could kill him? He wouldn't! Stop asking questions!

Tim (defensive, shrugging): Jesus, fine! I’m just curious. This is a confusing movie to me. I didn't grow up with defunct technology and absent-minded parents. At least it’s not Die Hard. That’s not even a Christmas movie, but we had to watch it.

Dick (speaking for Jason, glaring at Tim): I will knock your ass out if you say that about Die Hard again.

As Dick and Jason returned their focus to the movie, Tim leaned back on the couch, arms crossed in annoyance. Damian cleared his throat, asking one innocent yet important question.

Damian (curiously, tilting his head): Why does his family have so many mannequins? Did the dad just steal them from department stores?

Damian burst into laughter at his own joke, causing the others to chuckle as well, easing the tension created by Tim's questions.

Dick (smirking): Yeah, we have yet to find an answer for that one.

[himasgod]

Diluc x Reader

Where you help him pick his grapes at sunset

Where you help him pick grapes and spend the whole day working. Because you spend your time eating grapes instead of working, you end up playing pocky with a grape and sharing a wine in the evening.

The evening light painted the Dawn Winary in golden hues, and the vines seemed to glow as if they were grateful for the warm day. You stood by one of the barrels, admiring the view as Diluc carefully adjusted the last bunch of grapes into a basket.

“You know you don’t have to stay and help me, right?” he said with a slight smile, not looking away from his task.

“And you know I’m not leaving, right?” you replied, crossing your arms with a smile.

Diluc sighed, but there was a spark of amusement in his gaze as he looked up at you. It was rare to see him so relaxed, without the seriousness that usually accompanied him on his night patrols or while he tended to the affairs of the vineyard.

“If you insist…” he murmured, straightening up and offering the basket. “Then at least do something useful.”

“Useful?” you glared at him, feigning indignation as you took the basket. "I've been working all day!"

"Calling eating more grapes than you pick "working" is a bit generous, don't you think?"

You blushed, though you couldn't help but laugh too. It was true: you had succumbed to temptation more than once. The grapes were sweet and juicy, and you didn't regret trying a few… or several.

"It's a necessary quality control" you declared proudly.

So, you grabbed a grape from Diluc's basket, one that looked especially large and juicy, and held it between your fingers.

"I've already done my quality test. Now it's your turn to try them."

And with that, you put your lips into a duck beak shape and held the grape between them. Your plan was malicious but cunning. Diluc looked at you with a raised eyebrow

"So you expect me to taste the quality of my own perfect grapes from your lips?"

You gave a thumbs up smiling as best you could, your lips busy holding the grape between them.

Diluc sighed before placing a hand on your lower back and pulling you a little closer to him. With his other hand, he raised it to your cheek cupping it and with a lazy smile, giving you a slow and soft kiss as he stole the grape from your lips, passing it to his own. He continued kissing you as he savored it a little, before pulling away and saying.

"As perfect as ever"

"The grape or me?"

"Who knows"

With a big smile as if you were a little girl you grabbed the basket and began to deposit the grapes while humming a song, your spirits high.

Diluc shook his head, but his smile didn't disappear. He watched as you carried the basket into the cellar, noticing how the last rays of sunlight illuminated your face. There was something calming about sharing these moments with you, away from the bustle of Mondstadt and the shadows that often haunted him.

“Come here,” he called to you after a while, pointing to a small wooden bench on the porch of his mansion, overlooking the vineyards. In his hands, he held a bottle of red wine he had taken from the cellar.

You joined him, and Diluc poured two glasses before taking a seat beside you.

“This wine is new. I wanted to try it with you before presenting it at Angel's Share. You know I normally hate wine, but a glass won't hurt me."

“With me?” you asked, smiling widely.

“I trust your opinion… when you're not too busy eating the grapes, that is.”

You both laughed, and the moment felt perfect. The night breeze was beginning to blow gently, and the taste of the wine was exquisite. But the best of all was seeing Diluc like this: relaxed, enjoying the present, and sharing with you a lighter, more human side of himself.

“It’s delicious,” you said, smiling as you raised your glass to him. “I think Charles will be delighted.”

“I hope so. But…” Diluc raised his glass, his expression softer than usual. “Even if he wasn’t, this moment is worth it.”

It was in those moments that you realized how much it meant to him to have someone to share the small pleasures of life with.

[doctor-dusk]

𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱 𝐭.

all you want for christmas is him.

warnings: soft dom!alex, smut, handjob, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, most fluff, lots of kisses and cuddles because it’s humbug alex :3

words: 4.7k

i've had this ready since the beginning of the month and i posted it today because it makes more sense with the story. i've never written anything with humbug al but i admit that this brought a smile to my face. hope you enjoy it :3

it was snowing heavily when you left home, but not as much when you got back. you find it strangely amazing how everything could change drastically in a matter of minutes. the road wasn't so slippery when you parked the car, and now, you slipped and almost fell on your butt twice just to put the christmas presents in the trunk of the car.

ah, yes. it was christmas. one of the best times of the year, and without a doubt, it was your favorite. where you could get together with family and friends, exchange gifts and eat a lot without feeling remorseful about gaining a few extra pounds on the scale later. it was still the 23rd of december, but you had already been in the christmas spirit since november.

you took advantage of your free day to buy presents for the children. you made a mental note of what each of them wanted as a gift, casually asking what they would like for christmas that year. it was as easy as taking candy from a baby's mouth.

alex didn't go with you. he was too invested in the cookies to be able to accompany you. but you didn't complain, you loved it when he got excited about it, even though in the end he made a mess in the kitchen, with eggshells on the counter and flour on the floor. but the mess was the least of your worries.

you simply loved seeing how excited and happy he was, helping you decorate the house with wreaths on the doors and small ornaments on the windows, and of course, decorating the christmas tree. it was all full of laughter and jokes, as if at that moment you were in a cliché christmas movie.

you parked the car in the garage, getting out quickly to get the presents out of the car without taking too long, it was really freezing as night fell. you put the handles of the bags over your arms, making sure you didn't forget anything before locking the car and entering the house through the back door, avoiding getting the entire living room dirty with your snow-covered boots as much as possible.

the back door led directly to the laundry room, so you took the opportunity to take off your boots and put on your slippers, leaving your socks on your feet. alex thought it was funny — not to say strange — that you walked around the house in slippers and socks, but when he least expected it, he were already walking around the house like that too.

he usually says that you are a bad influence on him. but you are proud of it. it's not like he doesn't like it after all. he liked having a little bit of you in his habits.

before you crossed the small hallway that connected the laundry room and the kitchen, you could already smell cookies in the air. the soft vanilla aroma filled your nostrils as you approached the counter. alex wasn't there, all you saw besides an impeccably clean kitchen was the porcelain container with the warm cookies and a small note stuck under the small bowl.

you left the presents in a safe place on the floor, making a little mental note to pick them up later and beg alex to help you wrap them all — begging because alex liked to hear you say that he knew how to make much prettier gift bows than yours.

one free hand took the small note between your fingers, while the other rushed to grab one of the cookies from the pile, feeling the soft warmth on your fingertips. you took a bite, the chocolate chips practically melting in your mouth in an explosion of flavors, making you let out a satisfied hum.

your eyes drifted to the small note, recognizing alex’s elaborate handwriting as if he was always in a hurry to write, as if the words would disappear from his mind at any moment and he needed, no, needed to write it down somewhere before he forgot. it no longer surprised you to see loose letters and verses written in the most unusual places, like on the calendar stuck to the wall, or on his empty cigarette pack.

back to the main point, you read the small sentences written with the graphite of a worn pencil:

“meet me at the studio.

ps: sorry about the glass :(”

you frowned, soon understanding the meaning of the observation when you saw a small cardboard box in the corner with “glass” written on the top. he probably accidentally broke a glass while making the cookies, but that was no reason to make you angry, so you ignored it as you made your way to the studio at the end of the hallway that started in the living room.

the door was ajar, so you just gave it a little push. the studio always smelled of pine. you didn’t know exactly if it was because of the instruments, most of them structured with the most varied types of noble wood. but you loved that smell, especially when it was mixed with the smell of alex’s perfume. the place was annoyingly organized, he made sure not to leave anything out of place, whether he was alone or not. everything was impeccably in its place, the low lights brought a subtle comfort along with the colorful twinkling lights around the christmas tree set up there.

but what was truly a feast for your eyes was seeing your boyfriend lying there partially next to the christmas tree. the incandescent lights of the studio made his skin look warm, glowing. like a candle slowly burning, waiting for you. you looked up at him, an amused smile playing on your lips as he smiled back at you.

‘’what’s this?” you gestured to him lying next to the christmas tree, his wavy hair decorated with crimson red bows in the strands.

“don’t you like it, love?” he pouted. oh, you loved and hated that pout of his. you could break it if you could and then you would shower him with kisses until his lips were swollen.

“that’s not it. what are you doing?” you laughed, curious to know what he was planning. he had a gift box on his lap and a suggestive smile on his lips.

“i was preparing your gift. you got ‘ere just in time.” alex replied, patting the carpeted floor next to him so you could join him.

‘’i thought we were only going to exchange gifts at your parents' house in two days.’’ you answered in a slight tone of inquiry as you sat down next to him, your thighs touching and soon your shoulders too when he leaned in to kiss you on the temple.

he let out a laugh through his nose.

‘’believe me, this is not the kind of gift you want to open in front of my parents.’’ he joked, making you raise your eyebrows, curious about what was inside the box he was holding in his lap.

‘’is it a new lingerie?’’ you asked as you tried to guess what was inside. he shook his head in denial.

‘’why don't you open it and see?’’ he suggested, nudging you with his elbow so you could open the box. you knew you could be expecting anything from him now since he wasn't going to tell you what was in there. alex was the kind of guy who never got tired of surprising you.

carefully, you undid the red bow that was on the green box, lifting the lid cautiously, taking a quick peek. your eyes widened, several feelings going through your mind in a split second. in the end, you burst out laughing.

“alex!” you laughed, patting his shoulder, closing the box and opening it again to take another peek to make sure you were really seeing it.

“what? are you going to tell me you didn’t like it?” he asked, his shoulder touching yours, nudging you lightly. you laughed, checking it a second and third time, your face blushing. “stop it, you’re acting like you’ve never seen this in your life.”

“no, this is…” you laughed again, unable to react beyond laughter. of course, you weren’t expecting to see that inside the box. “did you even put a little bow on it?”

“of course, it’s a gift. i thought it would look more presentable for you.’’ he said and you rubbed your eyes, still laughing a little more.

“you’re terrible.” you shook your head, but you loved it, looking back with a sweet smile. ‘’but i liked the gift. i always wanted to have your cock with a little bow around it as a christmas gift.’’

“i would get naked for you, but it’s too cold.” he murmured and you laughed, kissing the tip of his cold nose.

“no need. thank you for the gift.” you said, kissing the tip of his nose again, trailing the kisses to his flushed cheeks, making a short path to the corner of his mouth, feeling the skin on his cheek flex because of his smile. ‘’can i enjoy it?’’

“you must.” he laughed, holding your hand, guiding it inside the box so you could finally touch him. he would be lying through his teeth if he said he wasn’t dying to feel your hand. you felt how warm and soft it was. in an impulse that you swore you couldn't control, you squeezed it gently, you played with the idea that it was like a squishy stress ball when it wasn't hard. "weirdo." he laughed, feeling that your touches were already starting to make him excited, the blood pumping quickly to the muscle, stiffening quickly. 

"don't judge me. you know how i like it when it's all soft like this.’’ you laughed in a murmur, your hand finally removing the box from the middle so that your path was clear for you to continue touching him, feeling his arm go around your waist so you could lie down next to him. 

he kissed your forehead, you could feel his breathing getting shaky as your fingers worked on him, feeling that softness being replaced by a warm and firm hardness, and you thought it would be a good idea to undo the tie around it, as cute as you thought it was. you didn't want it to end up hurting him because it was too tight. his face was close, too close. you could feel his eyelashes tickling your cheek as he tried to kiss you without getting lost in the feel of your fist closed around him, sliding up and down tortuously, the moans almost sounding like shy whimpers.

“god, i love when you touch me.” he murmured between kisses, feeling you tease him in response, circling the tip of your thumb around the tip, spreading the clear precum around it.

“does it feel good?” you asked, your eyes practically sparkling as you looked at him. he had no idea how beautiful he looked like this, with his eyes closed, his lips parted and his curly hair falling over his cheekbones like a small waterfall. you were completely fascinated by him.

“sooo good…” he dragged the word with a subtle movement of his hips, searching for your hand, searching for more, always more. he buried his face in your neck, making you roll over to feel the carpeted floor beneath your back. ‘’i love you so much…’’ he murmured, his hips moving against your hand in a delicious back and forth manner, your fist clenching a little tighter, increasing the pressure of your grip around him a little.

before you knew it, you were practically stuck together, one hand holding the back of your neck while the other undid the button of your jeans while he forced his knees to support the weight of his body between your legs. by this time he had already gotten rid of his pants, leaving them lying next to the christmas tree. you closed your eyes at the feeling of his fingers teasing the elastic of your panties under your pants, taking the opportunity to kiss his neck, delirious even more with the gasps he let out. alex had a sensitive neck, so you took advantage of every opportunity to kiss him and feel his skin shivering against your lips.

he mumbled something that you didn't understand at first because you were so lost in the sensations, but as soon as he stopped moving his hips and brought the hand that was on the back of your neck to your cheek, you came back to yourself.

‘’what did you say?’’

he smiled, kissing your forehead.

‘’i asked you to lift your hips, love. can't touch you with you wearing those pants.’’ he said, gentle and patient, even though he was seething inside. you raised your eyebrows, feeling foolish for mere seconds before lifting your hips, letting him do the rest. he paused for a moment, looking at your panties. ‘’those panties are new, aren't they?’’

‘’for god's sake…’’ you laughed, covering your face with one hand. alex paid attention to everything, even the clothes you wore, and it was no different with your panties. he was just very observant, especially when it came to you.

‘’what? i just asked.’’ he laughed too, leaving his palm on the light fabric printed with small roses on white cloth, letting his thumb slide from top to bottom, meticulously over your sensitive spot, making you curl your toes a little. ‘’it's not like i didn't like it. i love roses.

‘’they’re new, yes.’’ you confirmed. ‘’does it make any difference now?’’

‘’not now.’’ he shrugged, hooking his fingers on the sides so he could pull the piece down your legs. ‘’in the end, all the panties you wear end up thrown in some corner of the room. this one here would be no different.’’ he said as he finished pulling the intimate piece over your feet, leaving it in an ignored place.

you felt a voracious shiver, not only because of the cold on your legs, but because you were so close and he was touching you so masterfully, letting his fingertips slide along the inside of your thigh, he could already feel the heat radiating off your skin as he trailed lower, touching every part of your skin that he could reach. 

before you knew it, he was already between your legs, hooking his hands under your thighs to spread your legs apart gently, nuzzling his nose along your inner thigh, inhaling your scent. it was good, almost intoxicating to him, but he couldn't live without it.

your hand automatically moved to the back of his head, the relatively long locks barely held between your fingers, so silky and soft.

he looked up at you, the desire in his eyes mirroring yours as he pressed a soft kiss right on your clit, making it throb in response. it was something similar to when you kissed the tip of his cock when you're about to give him a blowjob, like a silent and promising tease.

his tongue danced slowly and deliberately along your folds, licking all the way up, savoring your taste as soft whimpers escaped your lips, his hands now on your inner thighs, keeping them spread wide for him to feast on you.

‘’feels so good…’’ you managed to say between the whimpers and moans. his heart beat even faster, knowing he was pleasing you just right. not that he didn't know, but he liked it when you were vocal. he swirled his tongue around your clit in slow circles, occasionally dipping it lower to tease your entrance with the tip of his tongue. your hand on his hair tightened, letting him know he was on the right track.

‘’want more?’’ he asked with a muffled voice.

‘’only if you want to.’’ you answered, not wanting to force him into something, even though you knew alex could suffocate to death between your legs if you let him.

his answer was to bury his face between your legs, his tongue delving inside you, stopping only when he moved his lips so he could suck your clit hard. your breathy and desperate moans only turned him on, his fingers almost penetrating your flesh to keep your legs spread wide as he ate you out relentlessly.

‘’taste so good, baby.’’ he moaned against your flesh, his nose pressing on your clit as he devoured you ravenously, lapping at your core and drinking your essence greedily. ‘’so fucking good.’’ he hissed, feeling his own desire throbbing between his legs as he worked you higher and higher.

‘’fuck, alex, i'm…’’ you whispered, feeling your skin shivering. you usually never got goosebumps when he was eating you out, so when he felt the skin on your thigh crawling under his hands, he paused, looking up at you with his face glistening in saliva and your wetness.

‘’are you cold, love?’’ he asked when he felt the goosebumps on your thigh. you nodded. ‘’hold on.’’ he said, reaching behind him to grab a folded blanket you had left there the day before because you were listening to alex play the piano and almost always ended up dozing off to the melody.

he put the blanket over himself and turned his body to lie on top of you, warming you not only with the blanket, but with the heat of his body on yours.

‘’better?’’ he asked, making sure you were feeling warm enough. you smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him, the kiss answering everything you both needed to know at the moment, the taste of you lingering on his tongue, now mixing on your mouths.

as the kiss dragged on, you felt his hand caress the skin of your belly under your sweater, going up to fondly grope one of your breasts, your legs locked around his waist bringing him impossibly closer, your intimacies touching, rubbing against each other in a frenzy of anticipation.

‘’alex…’’ you whimpered softly, nibbling on his earlobe, feeling him shiver slightly against your body.

‘’i know, love, i know.’’ he murmured against your neck, not needing to say anything else, just act. and so soon, you felt him fit perfectly between your legs, moving in and out slowly, and that alone made your body tingle and soften at the same time.

your skin burned like burning embers, every touch and every thrust seemed to take you to a private paradise where all that existed was the two of you getting lost in each other, drowning in that ocean of pleasure. the lights oscillating between yellow, orange and red on the christmas tree next to you seemed to make his face flush more when he lifted his face to look at you, you could easily get lost in that surrendered look, in that little face contorted with pleasure.

but you couldn't let yourself be fooled, not when he brought his hand around your neck, his thumb caressing and feeling your rapid pulse under the skin of your neck while his hips moved more fluidly and, consequently, faster. the sound of skin colliding with skin began to echo through the small studio, joining the sound of both of your moans.

you clung tighter to him, your hands invading his sweater to feel the boiling skin of his back against your palms. it was too hot now, so you pulled the blanket away, both of you wearing only your sweaters on top. soon, your hands returned to roaming his sides, holding his hips and encouraging him in his rhythmic and precise thrusts.

turner leaned in to kiss you again, your hands going straight to his hair, your fingers tangling in the strands and the little bows attached to it. you didn't know whether to moan or laugh at the fact that you were having sex while he had little red bows attached to his locks. alex was too unpredictable for his own good.

but you chose to moan, especially because it was impossible not to have that reaction when you felt him so good and so deep like that, the inside of your cunt seemed to be perfectly molded for his cock, squeezing and feeling him hitting that spot over and over again, which forced your body to contort and cling to his tighter. his name was like a melody in your mouth, echoing vividly with the sound of his thrusts, you even found it difficult to keep your eyes open to admire every little expression on his face.

‘’you look so beautiful like this, you know that?’’ he gasped, holding your face with his hand, his fingers gently squeezing your cheeks, his lips giving you several little kisses, one after the other. ‘’so beautiful and so mine…’’ he continued, punctuating his words with sharp and deep thrusts, knowing that you loved the compliments, loved how much he liked to compliment even your toenails, no matter how much you told him how ridiculous they were.

you brought your hand between your bodies, wanting more stimulation. your fingers circled lazily around your pleasure point, feeling him go back and forth inside you, listening to the muffled sounds from the back of his throat as he kissed and nibbled on your neck, his hands gripping your skin in any way he could, marking his territory.

you tried not to moan too much, but it was so hard, you had a lot to deal with at the moment, and you tried to kiss him or bite your lip so as not to let any loud sounds escape. but damn, this was driving alex crazy, completely out of his mind to the point where he couldn't control himself as he moved so fast, that knot in his stomach was starting to form inside him.

when you felt him slow down a little, your eyes searched his as you lifted your eyelids, a look of slight desperation taking over his facial features.

‘’what's wrong, love?’’ you asked, trying not to be so worried, your free hand reaching up to touch his face.

‘’it's just that i... fuck, i'm so close…’’ he murmured a little breathlessly, swallowing hard. ‘’i don't want to come right now...’’

‘’honey, it's okay…’’ you reassured him. of course, it was rare for him to cum before you, but it happens. he always made sure to hold back as long as possible so that you could have your pleasure, maybe even twice so that he could finally feel free to let the orgasm consume him too. you said it was selfish of him, but he never listened to you.

‘’no, not before you.’’ he shook his head, reluctantly holding himself back. but it was so hard when he felt your walls squeezing him, making him so sensitive and stimulated that it was already out of control.

‘’alex, look at me, love.’’ you said, holding his face with both hands. ‘’you know i don't care about that.just let go, i'm right behind you, i promise.’’ you said, distributing hot kisses all over his face, your hand returning to your clit, rolling your hips a little against his to stimulate him more.

it didn't take more than that. your soothing words, your kisses on his neck and the feeling of you squeezing around him like a warm hug were enough to make him spill inside you, holding your thighs tightly as he pulsed inside you vigorously, making you feel that familiar feeling of fulfillment.

you barely had time to open your eyes and catch your breath. you felt him slide out of you, his member being replaced by his ring and middle fingers, burying them inside you until reach his knuckles, the unannounced invasion made you close your legs in a reflex, soon relaxing them when he kissed your face.

‘’let me take care of you now, darling." he whispered to you, your foreheads pressed together as he pumped his fingers back and forth quickly, and you were already delirious. you loved it when he touched you. of course, being a natural guitarist, turner really knew how to move his fingers, especially inside you.

in no time, you were already a mess, his fingers continued tirelessly, alternating between going back and forth or curving upwards, massaging your g-spot with fervor. you didn't care that everything was getting too wet, too sticky with his fresh cum dripping from your hole that was now filled with his two fingers, you just knew how to enjoy the sensation and slowly come undone by spasms.

‘’alex, alex…’’ you moaned, both of you working together with your fingers, building your orgasm little by little as you grabbed the back of his neck to bring him into a wet kiss at the same time that you reached your climax, shaking and almost writhing like an acrobat on the floor, his fingers continued to stimulate you, but with less intensity now, trying not to overstimulate you.

‘’mhm, that’s it, baby.’’ he mumbled between sweet kisses on your swollen lips, satisfied that he could make you finish.

the panting breaths soon died down, your hearts returning to normal beats as he laid his head on your chest, his sticky fingers finally abandoning you, leaving you with a strange feeling of emptiness as it happened every time.

you murmured softly to him, your free hand undid one of the ties in his hair so that you could comb it back, unsticking the strands from his sweaty forehead.

“hm?” he asked, looking up so that his lazy eyes met yours.

“i'm cold again.” you pouted and he laughed through his nose, reaching for the blanket that was thrown on the floor again, covering your completely tired bodies again. ‘’i loved the gift, al.’’

‘’you're welcome.’’ he murmured with a low laugh, reaching for the skin of your collarbone to give it a kiss or two. you smiled, pulling him closer, his body was on top of yours, but he tried not to distribute his weight completely on you. he kissed your flushed face more times than he could count, his hand caressed the back of your neck, and you swore you could hear him purring like a kitten.

‘’it feels so good here…’’ you murmured, your voice was sleepy. alex chuckled softly, you always got sleepy after sex, so this was no surprise to him anymore.

‘’we can stay here a little longer.’’ he replied, hugging you and rolling your bodies so that you could be with your body on top of his.

he held your face, the little kisses didn't seem enough, so he kissed you more intensely, his tongue parting your lips so he could explore your mouth as if it were the first time. when you broke the kiss, he swallowed, licking his lips as if he was thoughtful and trying to come to a conclusion.

‘’what's wrong?’’ you asked curiously.

‘’kiss me again.’’ he asked. you found it unusual, but didn't say anything back, kissing him the same way, letting him taste your mouth more. when you broke the kiss again, he laughed. ‘’did you eat one of the cookies on the counter?’’

‘’of course i did.’’ you laughed along. ‘’did you only realize now?’’

‘’yeah. i was too busy fucking you to realize that.’’ he said and you rolled your eyes at how direct he was, but you didn't think it was bad. ‘’but i liked it. cookie kisses.’’

‘’did you like it?’’ you smiled, feeling him brush his nose against yours in an eskimo kiss.

“i loved it.” he replied, your foreheads and the tips of your noses touching as if they were made for that. “and you know what else i love?”

you smiled. you knew what he was going to answer, but you always liked hearing him say it.

“what?” you asked, your eyes shining at him as you waited for his answer.

“you.”

a/n: idk if i'll post anything else in the next few days or before new years, so merry xmas in advance <3

taglist (let me know if you want to be included or excluded): @thenightslikeawhirlwind, @goblinontour, @yourstartreatment

[corendisguise]

Neighbor's Curiosity

Chapter 1

„What the hell is going on next door?" Scott muttered to himself, his eyes fixed on the handsome blonde man emerging from the house. The guy was tall, with broad shoulders and a confident stride that made Scott's heart skip a beat. But there was something off. Something wrong.

Scott had been in this neighborhood for barely six weeks, and already he’d seen at least 8 different men leave that house in the morning, only to return later in the evening. It was strange. Too strange. And now, curiosity—or maybe something darker, deeper—was gnawing at him like a restless beast.

But what if I’m overthinking it? Scott thought, trying to rationalize the situation. Maybe it’s just some kind of... fitness group? Therapy sessions? A rotating roommate situation?

The blonde man disappeared down the street, and Scott’s mind raced. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something unusual was happening behind those closed doors. His neighbor, the bearded guy who lived there — at least he was the one he saw most often — seemed normal enough at first glance. Friendly, even. But now, Scott wasn’t so sure.

“Screw it,” Scott whispered, his resolve hardening. He waited a few hours and the he grabbed his keys and stepped out onto the porch, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. The coast was clear. Heart pounding, he crossed the yard and approached the neighbor’s house.

The front door was unlocked.

How careless, Scott thought, though his unease was quickly overtaken by excitement. He slipped inside, closing the door softly behind him. The house was quiet, almost too quiet, as if it were waiting for him.

He moved cautiously through the living room, his eyes darting left and right. Nothing seemed out of place, but the air felt charged, electric. Then he noticed it—a door slightly ajar, leading to what must be a bedroom.

This is crazy, he thought, but his feet carried him forward anyway.

The bedroom was darker than the rest of the house, the curtains drawn shut. In the corner, a large cabinet caught his eye. It was ornate, old-fashioned, and slightly creepy in its grandeur. Curiosity won out over caution, and Scott approached it, his hands trembling as he swung open the doors.

What he found inside made his breath catch in his throat.

Row after row of male masks stared back at him, each one meticulously crafted, lifelike. Some were old, some young, and all of them bore expressions that ranged from neutral to downright sinister. There were also bodysuits—tight, muscular ones, slender ones, even a few that mimicked age or skin tone variations.

And then, right at the center, was a mask that made Scott’s heart stop.

His neighbor’s face stared back at him.

"No way," Scott whispered, his voice barely audible. He reached out, fingers brushing against the cold, smooth surface of the mask. It was identical to the bearded man who lived here, down to the smallest detail.

This isn’t real. This can’t be real.

But it was.

A surge of conflicting emotions washed over him—fear, fascination, and something else, something primal. His cock twitched in his pants, and he cursed under his breath.

I need to get out of here, he told himself, but his body had other plans. Without thinking, he grabbed the mask and a nearby muscular bodysuit. They weren’t heavy, but they felt oddly substantial in his hands.

He didn’t know why, but he needed to try them on.

Back at his own house, Scott locked the doors and drew the curtains, shutting out the world. He stripped down to nothing, his naked flesh prickling with anticipation. The latex lifelike bodysuit came next, slipping on smoothly despite its tight fit. It clung to him like a second skin, accentuating every curve and muscle. When he looked in the mirror, he barely recognized himself.

The transformation was stunning.

Finally, he placed the mask over his face, adjusting it until it sat perfectly. The edges were seamless, blending into his skin as if it were his own. He ran his hands over his new appearance, marveling at the texture, the detail.

"Wow," he whispered, his voice muffled slightly by the mask. It was uncanny how real it all felt.

A thought occurred to him, wild and impulsive: Can I fool anyone?

With the suit and mask on, he felt invincible, empowered. He grabbed a pair of jeans and a plain white t-shirt from his closet, dressing quickly. The disguise was complete.

Scott stepped into the late afternoon, the cool air brushing against his synthetic skin. His heart raced as he walked to the local gay bar just down the street. The place wasn’t fancy, but it was lively, filled with people laughing and talking.

He hesitated at the entrance, glancing around to see if anyone looked familiar. No sign of his neighbor—good. He took a deep breath and pushed through the door, stepping into the dim light and noise.

Almost immediately, someone caught his eye.

A man sat at the bar, mid-thirties, with dark hair and sharp features. He was alone, nursing a drink, his expression distant. Scott swallowed hard, his mouth dry.

Just go talk to him, he told himself. You’ve got this.

But as he approached, his confidence wavered. What if he messed up? What if someone saw through the disguise?

Before he could overthink it, the man at the bar turned to look at him. Their eyes met, and Scott froze. „Hey Mike, i didn’t expect you to be here today“ the man said, his voice low and inviting. “You look like you could use a drink.”

Scott nodded slowly, forcing himself to smile. “Yeah,” he replied, his voice steady. “Thanks.”

As he slid onto the stool beside the man, he couldn’t help but wonder if this was exactly what his neighbor had done countless times before. Was this part of the game? The thrill?

Or is this something more?

Scott’s heart raced as the man at the bar slid closer, his dark eyes locking onto Scott’s. The air between them seemed to thicken, charged with a tension that Scott wasn’t sure he could entirely explain. Was it the thrill of the disguise? The alcohol loosening his inhibitions? Or was it something else entirely—something regarding his mask?

“You’re quiet tonight,” the man said, his voice smooth and low. He leaned in slightly, his shoulder brushing against Scott’s arm. “Something on your mind?”

Shit, Scott thought, I should say something. But the words caught in his throat. Instead, he tilted his head, letting the mask’s persona guide him. “Just taking it all in,” he replied, his voice steady, though his pulse quickened.

The man smirked, raising his glass in a toast before taking a sip. “Can’t blame you. This place has a way of making you think.” His gaze lingered, flickering down to Scott’s lips before returning to his eyes. “So, what’ have you been up to, tonight?”

Keep it together, Scott told himself. Don’t overthink it. The guy obviously knew him, the identity he was wearing at least: „just need a drink with a friend,” he said, the lie rolling off his tongue easily. “And you?”

“Rick is part of the inventory.“ the barkeeper responded from behind the counter. Rick laughed but left his gaze on Scott:. “I am happy to meet you today here, Mike,“ his tone casual but laced with an undercurrent of interest.

They exchanged small talk, the conversation flowing like water over rocks, punctuated by laughter and the clinking of glasses. Scott found himself relaxing, the initial nerves giving way to a strange sense of confidence. This is working, he thought, marveling at how seamlessly he’d slipped into this new identity.

Rick’s fingers brushed against Scott’s hand as they reached for their drinks, a subtle touch that sent a shiver up Scott’s spine. “You’re different today,” Rick said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not like last time we met here.”

Scott swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. “Different how?”

Rick smiled, a slow, knowing curve of his lips. “You look… curious. Like you’ve got secrets.” He leaned in closer, his breath warm against Scott’s ear. “And I think I want to know what they are.”

Before Scott could respond, a deep voice cut through the haze of flirtation. “Hello, Mike. How are you? I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”

Scott froze, his body stiffening as he turned to find an older chunky bearded man in a leather jacket standing beside him. The man’s expression was friendly enough, but there was something in his eyes—a sharpness, a calculating gleam that made Scott’s stomach drop.

“Uh… hi,” Scott stammered, his mind racing. Who the hell is this?

The man chuckled, leaning in to hug Scott tightly. “It’s been too long, old friend.” His voice was warm, but when he pulled back, his eyes narrowed slightly. “You’ve been busy, haven’t you?”

Scott nodded uneasily, his heart pounding in his chest. “Yeah, just… life, you know.”

The man didn’t respond right away, instead studying Scott with an intensity that made the room feel smaller. Finally, he leaned in close, his lips brushing against Scott’s ear as he whispered, “I know you stole my face, Scott. Don’t play dumb. I have cameras in my house. Follow me quietly into the restroom, or things could get… unpleasant.”

Scott’s breath hitched, his body going rigid with fear and arousal all at once. He knows, his mind screamed. He knows.But even as panic surged through him, there was a flicker of something else—an electric thrill that coursed through his veins, igniting a fire in his core.

Without waiting for a response, the man turned and strode toward the restroom, his leather jacket creaking with each step. Scott glanced at Rick, whose expression was a mix of confusion and curiosity, then back at the restroom door. What choice do I have? he thought, pushing himself off the stool.

The restroom was dimly lit, the only sound the faint hum of the ventilation system. The man stood near the door, his hands resting on the edge as he waited. As Scott stepped inside, the door clicked shut behind him, sealing them in together.

The man’s eyes widened briefly before narrowing again, his jaw ticking with what looked like anger. “You really thought you could fool me? My own fucking mask?”

Scott swallowed, his mouth dry. “I… I didn’t mean—”

“Shut up,” the man snapped, stepping forward until Scott was pinned against the cold tile wall. “Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you’re in? Stealing from me? Who do you think you are?”

Scott shook his head, his breathing shallow. “I’m sorry, I just… I was curious. I wanted to see—”

“Curious?” the man repeated, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “You’re lucky I don’t call the cops.” His hand moved to Scott’s chin, tilting his face upward. “But you know what? You’re not all bad. That mask and body suit fits you like it was made for you.”

Scott’s cheeks flushed, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. The man’s proximity was overwhelming, his cologne mingling with the scent of leather, creating a heady mix that made Scott’s knees weak.

“You like this, don’t you?” the man asked, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Being caught. Being exposed. Fucking stealing my face and parading around like you own it.”

Scott couldn’t deny it. Somewhere beneath the fear, beneath the shock, there was a raw, undeniable excitement coursing through him. “Yes,” he admitted, his voice barely audible.

The man’s lips curled into a sly smile, his fingers trailing down Scott’s neck, across his collarbone, and lower still. “Well, then,” he murmured, “let’s make this worth my while.”

Before Scott could process what was happening, the man’s hands moved quickly, ripping apart the T-Shirt and opening his jeans. The man pulled the jeans down and Scott didn’t resist. When the trousers fell to the ground the man’s lips were already on his, rough and demanding. The kiss was nothing like the lingering, almost hesitant ones he’d shared with Rick. This was dominance, pure and unapologetic, sending waves of heat crashing through Scott’s body. While kissing Scott

he was pulling at the zipper of the bodysuit. Scott gasped into the kiss as his erection pressed against the tight fabric, aching for release. “Please,” he begged, his voice breaking.

The man pulled back, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Turn around,” he commanded, and Scott obeyed without hesitation, his arousal overriding any sense of caution.

As Scott braced himself against the wall, the man gripped his shoulders with bruising force, his touch leaving no room for doubt about who was in control. The sound of the bodysuit being pulled down sent a shiver through Scott’s entire body, a tight, restrictive layer was removed that only heightened his sensitivity. and then finall he felt it: the blunt pressure of the man’s cock against him, ready and relentless, covered in precum. Somehow he had managed to open also his own jeans before.

The man’s hands tightened on Scott’s hips, his grip almost painful, but Scott didn’t care. All he could focus on was the way the older man’s body pressed into him, the heat of his arousal building up, the bodysuit still clinging to Scott’s legs. The zipper had somehow opened more then the suit.

“You like this, don’t you?” the man growled, his voice low and deep, vibrating against Scott’s ear as he leaned in close. “You like being taken like this. No questions, no hesitation. Just surrender.”

Scott nodded, his breath coming in shallow gasps. His mind was spinning, fogged by desire and the heady rush of submission. He wanted this—wanted him—more than he had ever wanted anything in his life. The man’s dominance was intoxicating, his every touch sending electric shocks through Scott’s veins.

“Yes,” Scott whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of their harsh breathing. “Please… yes.”

The man smirked, his lips curving into a wicked grin as he slid a hand up Scott’s back, fingers tracing the curve of his spine. “Good boy,” he murmured, punctuating the words with a sharp slap to Scott’s ass that made him cry out. “Now hold still.”

He positioned himself again, and this time there was no hesitation. Scott felt the blunt head of the man’s cock pressing against him, slick with precum, and then—finally—he was inside. The sensation was overwhelming, intense, and Scott’s knees buckled slightly as he struggled to stay upright. The man didn’t give him a chance to adjust, thrusting forward with brutal force, driving deep into him.

Scott clenched his fists against the wall, his entire body trembling as the man took him with reckless abandon. Each thrust was hard and unrelenting, sending jolts of pleasure-pain rippling through him. He could feel the bodysuit tangled around his feet, the fabric scraping against his skin with every movement, and the mask still clung to his face, its weight oddly comforting despite the situation.

“You’re mine,” the man snarled, his voice dripping with authority. “Every inch of you. You understand that?”

Scott nodded again, his vision blurring as waves of pleasure crashed over him. “Yes… I’m yours,” he gasped, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. The man grabbed his hair with one hand and pulled hard. The mask was stretched out and the features were distorted.

The man chuckled and moaned darkly, his grip on Scott’s hips tightening afterwards even more. “That’s what I thought,” he said, punctuating the words with another deep thrust. “You’re good at taking orders. Too bad you’re such a little thief.”

Scott’s eyes snapped open, confusion flooding his thoughts. “What?” he managed to choke out, his voice trembling.

The man paused for a moment, pulling back just enough to look Scott in the eye. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?” he said, his tone cold and mocking. “You were stealing one of my masks. One of my suits. Do you have any idea in how many places I’ve been with it? How many people I’ve fucked with this mask on?”

Scott’s heart skipped a beat, panic surging through him. He hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected the man to call him out so explicitly. But before he could respond, the man grabbed both ears of the mask with both hands, his fingers digging deep into the rubber.

“Let’s see who we’re dealing with, shall we?” the man murmured, his voice dripping with menace.

Scott tried to pull away, but it was useless. The man’s strength far outmatched his own, and within seconds the mask was being lifted off his face. The cool air hit his cheeks, and Scott’s stomach churned with a mix of fear and humiliation. He wasn’t Mike anymore—not in this moment. He was just some guy, caught red-handed, about to be exposed.

But the man didn’t seem interested in his identity. Instead, he held the mask up in front of Scott’s face, his eyes gleaming with something dark and dangerous. “You stole this from me,” he said, his voice low and deadly. “And now you’re going to pay for it.”

Before Scott could react, the man slammed into him again, harder this time, driving the breath out of his lungs. Scott cried out, his voice echoing off the tiled walls of the restroom, and then everything blurred together in a haze of pain and pleasure. The man assaulted him relentlessly, each thrust pushing Scott closer to the edge. He took the mask to his lips and pressed his tongue into the mouth hole. He licked off Scott’s remains, his sweat and his odor.

“Come for me,” the man commanded, his voice thick with lust. “Do it now.”

Scott couldn’t resist. He was already teetering on the brink, and the man’s demand sent him spiraling over the edge. He came with a strangled cry, his orgasm flooding through him as the man continued to pound into him. And then, a moment later, the man followed, his muscles tensing as he emptied himself inside Scott.

For a long moment, they stayed like that, the man buried deep inside Scott, both of them panting heavily. And then, slowly, the man withdrew, his movements calm and deliberate. He stepped back, allowing Scott to sink to his knees, the bodysuit still tangled around his feet.

The man crouched down in front of Scott, his expression unreadable. “You’re lucky I enjoyed that,” he said, his voice quiet but laced with danger. “Next time, I won’t be so forgiving.”

Scott looked up at him, his heart pounding in his chest. “Who… who are you?” he whispered, his voice trembling.

The man smiled faintly, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. “Look up,” he said, his tone suddenly gentle. “I’ll show you.”

Scott hesitated, but the urgency in the man’s voice—and the promise of answers—was too strong to ignore. He looked up, facing the mirror above the sink, and watched as the man reached up to his own mask.

With deliberate precision, the man pried the edges of the mask free at his throat, his fingers working patiently until it came loose. He inserted his fingers into the seam on both sides of his chin. He pushed them under the mask. The features stretched and the eyehole became empty. Scott’s breath caught in his throat as the mask was lifted away, revealing the man’s true face.

It wasn’t the rugged, bearded visage Scott had expected. Instead, the man standing behind him had a handsome, angular face with blonde hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His brown eyes shone with a mixture of triumph and something softer—something almost kind.

“George,” the man said, his voice smooth and calm. “My name’s George.” „I think I should invite you more into my house. We could have a lot of fun.“

to be continued…

[sereinegemini]

Been an Awful Good Girl || D.M. & T.N.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader x Theodore Nott

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: Draco and Theo enjoy their bow-wrapped present under the tree.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI smut (dom!draco, dom!theo, sub!reader, dirty talk, pet names, cursing, unprotected sex, cream pie, threesome, slight masochism, male oral, face fucking, cumshot, lyrics from Santa Baby)

Author's Note: Merry Christmas Eve (and Happy Holidays to anyone who doesn't celebrate Christmas)! I wasn't sure if I was going to finish this in time but I've pushed through the past few days and hope you guys enjoy the end result!

Festive Muggle music drifted from your record player, the needle floating lazily atop the spinning vinyl. You were rocking your hips to the beat and placing ornaments strategically throughout the fir tree Draco and Theo had dutifully bought from the lot down the road. You wished you’d been here to revel in them struggling to drag it up the stairs to your third-story flat, but you’d unfortunately had to work a shift at the boutique. With the holidays just around the corner, Muggles were shopping like mad and your boss had asked everyone to pick up extra shifts.

But now you were home, freshly showered and dressed in a silk, gingerbread patterned pajama set. Theo was in the kitchen cooking his famous gnocchi cacciatore soup. At least, it was famous between the three of you and all your friends. And Draco—who had strung the lights throughout the tree for you and hung all of one ornament—was sat back on the sofa with a glass of Old Fashioned and contently watching his girl decorate. A smirk danced its way to his lips every time you stretched up on your tippy-toes to reach the higher branches, the shorts of your pajamas riding up to show off the delicious curve of your ass.

You were currently trying your damndest to reach one of the highest branches, getting nowhere close to the top of the eight-foot tree. Draco, unable to control himself at the sight of over half your ass on full display, decided it was in everyone’s best interest to help you. Especially his. He silently pressed against your back, sliding a warm hand around your stomach where your shirt was lifted. “Need some help, darling?” 

You startled for a beat before melting into his embrace. “Yes, please,” you sighed sheepishly.

Still holding you against him, he took the glass ball and held it to a high-hanging branch. “Here?”

“Mhm..” you answered, not even registering where he was holding the bulb. He was leaning into you to reach the tree and his boner was poking into your lower back. The mere pressure of it made your mind go blank and swirl with desire.

“Darling, is there something on your mind?” he asked lowly against your ear, trailing his fingertips along the hem of your shorts. The fiend knew exactly what was on your mind.

“Dray-” is all you breathed, angling your lips towards his. He softly pressed his mouth against yours, tugging you against him. His hand slid into the waist of your shorts and he wasted no time before he slipped a finger into your already wet folds. You moaned needily against his lips, tugging him closer with a hand on his shoulder.

“Oh my, what have we here, amorina?” [Sweetheart] Theo was perched against the doorframe from the kitchen to the living room, his arms crossed smugly. A tent was forming in the front of his slacks, pulling the material taunt around his cock. Your mouth watered at the sight. Were you about to have both of your boyfriends at once? It wasn’t unheard of, but they usually enjoyed you in turns.

“Thought we’d have a light snack before dinner,” Draco drawled, beginning lazy circles on your clit. You jumped at the sensation before melting into his arms, your eyelids drooping in pleasure.

“Hmm, suppose it couldn’t ruin our appetites too much.” They shared devious grins before turning their ravenous gazes to you. Theo slowly trailed his eyes down your body, taking in every curve and inch of skin on display while he began unbuttoning his shirt.

“Where do you want us, darling? The couch? The bed?” Draco mumbled against your ear, never faltering his onslaught to your clit. Your legs were beginning to numb with pleasure and if it weren’t for his strong arms around you, you’d very well be on the floor. A satisfied hum vibrated in his throat, “Or how about right here next to the tree?”

Your head swam at the idea, your lust growing tenfold as you imagined them laying you down on the plush rug with the christmas lights twinkling above you—pleasing themselves with your body to their hearts’ content. “Yes,” you gasped, growing ever closer to your climax.

“What was that, cara? [Dear] Use your polite words like the good girl you are,” Theo ordered, coming up behind you and moving your hair to the side so he could place kisses along your neck.

“I- I want you right here. Please..” you begged, gripping onto Draco’s shoulder to ground yourself as waves of release began surging through you.

Draco stopped the pressure to your clit. “As you wish, my love.”

You whined at the loss of his touch and your impending orgasm, but obediently allowed the boys to lay you down beside the tree. Draco resumed kissing you while using his hands to discard you of your pajamas. Your breasts ached once they were freed, arousal and the chilly air of your old apartment delightfully hardening your nipples. Theo ran painter-calloused thumbs over the hardened nubs and you arched your back into his touch before he pulled away, leaving you feeling deprived once more.

Remotely, you were aware of your dark-haired boy digging through a box of christmas decor—but your attention was quickly overtaken by Draco, who had abandoned your mouth to trail kisses and licks to your uncovered skin. He swirled his tongue around one of your nipples before sucking it into his mouth, the pleasurable pain caused you to mewl and squirm underneath him, desperate for him to touch you between your legs.

“You’re so pretty when you’re begging for our cocks, amorina,” Theo drawled. He was holding one of the giant red bows you usually tied around the pillars on your balcony. Confusion briefly overtook your arousal, what was he doing with that? You weren’t left to wonder for long though—Draco helped you sit up and Theo aligned the bow with your breasts, pushing them up towards your collarbone when he wrapped the strings around your ribs and securely tied them at your spine. The somewhat rough texture of the bow’s velvet scraped your hardened nipples and you moaned with satisfaction.

You were their present, and you couldn’t wait for them to unwrap you.

“Sei bellissima.” [You’re beautiful] Theo smirked and grabbed your chin, angling your lips up to his. He kissed you with pure dominance, gripping the nape of your neck and slipping his tongue into your mouth. You kissed him back eagerly, getting lost in the taste of ingredients on his tongue and the warmth of his spit spilling into your mouth. You whined once again when he finally pulled away, your mind whirling with arousal too much to form any verbal protest. 

“I believe it’s time to open an early Christmas present, don’t you Draco?” You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth at the dark lust swimming in his eyes. The coppery tang of blood mixed with the taste of them in your mouth, and you pressed your thighs together for any friction it might grant your aching cunt.

“I believe so, Theo,” Draco agreed, his large hands grabbing at your sides to guide you how they wanted you. “Get on your hands and knees, darling.” You gladly obeyed, wanting to please your boys so they would hurry up and please you.

“Brava ragazza,” [Good girl] Theo breathed, kneading your ass and dutifully lining up behind you. You could hear his belt jangle as he removed his slacks and you arched your back to give him better access to your swollen cunt. You were no better than an animal in heat—you needed them inside you. In front of you, Draco already had his pants off, his stiff cock standing proud against his toned stomach.

“Dray–” You leaned forward to lick up his shaft. His cock twitched at the sensation, and you proudly looked up to find his eyes lidded and his mouth parted with pleasure. Draco bundled your hair into a makeshift ponytail, loosely holding it out of your face with one hand. Leaving a kitten lick to the head of his cock, you sucked the tip into your mouth and moaned as the saltiness of his pre-cum danced along your tastebuds.

Suddenly, you felt Theo run his cock along your folds, quickly lubing himself before pushing into you in one solid motion. Your walls protested as the size of him stretched you out gloriously, before the pain turned to sheer ecstasy and a long moan escaped your lips. The force of his thrust forced Draco’s cock deeper into your mouth and the two boys bottomed out at the same time. They both groaned with pleasure, pulling out slowly before slamming back into you. Their rhythms soon synchronized, Draco thrusting into you whenever Theo’s onslaught to your cunt pushed you towards him.

♪ Ba-boom Ba-boom ♪ 

Theo’s fingers dug deliciously into your hips, guiding you onto his cock and filling the air with the sounds of skin slapping against skin alongside the festive music still playing across the room.

♪ Santa baby, just slip a Sable under the tree for me ♪

♪ Been an awful good girl ♪

Draco had your head pulled back by your hair, creating the perfect angle to hit the back of your throat and causing saliva to drip down your chin. You weren’t sure how much longer your quivering arms could hold you upright with Theo repeatedly pounding against your g-spot. The pressure in your core was becoming too much and your eyes were beginning to roll back from the intense pleasure.

♪ Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight ♪

As though he could sense your impending orgasm, Theo slid a hand around your thighs and began rubbing his forefinger against your clit. Their thrusts became sloppier as their own orgasms grew closer and the force of them slamming into you was causing the bow to slip from your boobs. You felt them bouncing back and forth, the velvet knot falling around your stomach and freeing your painfully full breasts.

“Merlin, you’re so fucking hot when you’re being fucked, F/n. Like our own little sex doll,” Draco growled, letting go of your hair to grab both of your tits like handles. Strands of your hair fell in your face, sticking to your spit and tears.

“Such a brava ragazza, letting us do whatever we want with her,” Theo agreed, landing a hard smack to your ass cheek. You gasped around Draco’s cock, feeling the pressure in your core finally coming undone. “That’s it, cara. Milk my cock. I want to fill you up like a pasticiotti.”

They were pulling you back and forth like a game of tug-of-war, chasing their own climaxes as you shook and turned to putty in their hands. Finally, Theo stilled and your cunt warmed as he released deep inside you. Draco pulled out of your mouth soon after, jerking his hand along his length until his cum showered your face and tongue—which you had stuck out in the hopes of tasting him.

Both men sagged back on their heels, appreciating the view of their girl fucked and painted in their release. “You’re such a pretty whore, amore mio,” [my love], Theo praised, kissing you endearingly once you’d slumped to your back. 

Draco pulled the big red bow back over your tits, placing a kiss to your stomach. “Definitely my favorite present under the tree, I might have to use it again.” Despite feeling absolutely spent, his words resparked the desire in your core. They could use you all they wanted—you loved being their pretty bow wrapped present.

It was the season, after all.

♪ Hurry down the chimney tonight ♪

♪ Hurry, tonight ♪

Be notified of future fics!

[bitebitekxll]

Sfw ask:

Genshin men with a sick reader headcanons

Diluc, Kaeya, Kazuha, Ayato, can remove or add if you’d like

What they do when you’re sick

៚ Diluc ✧ Kaeya ✧ Kazuha ✧ Ayato ✧ Childe

Notes: FIRST FIC ASK LETS GOOO!! Also happy holidays everyone <3

For a character I am the least sure about characterising, Ayato’s somehow became the longest?? Fingers crossed I did him justice. Also couldn’t resist spreading my malewife Childe agenda so he’s in this too. Hope you enjoy ~

𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂 ᥫ᭡

Even if Dawn Winery has a whole set staff on hand, he will insist on taking care of you himself; making sure you take your medicine on time, cooking you meals, doing anything he can to ensure your work doesn’t suffer in your absence. The only way to convince him to let Adelinde handle it, is to remind him he can’t hold you if he’s running around. He’s quiet. Not his usual comfortable silence, but one that adds a weighted air to all actions as he stays vigil at your side. Diluc doesn’t like feeling helpless and hates when you’re uncomfortable so you can bet he’ll be extra fussy over you when you’re sick.

(Not to mention vigilant to ensure you don’t get sick in the first place. Going out in the rain? Not without his umbrella you’re not. Venturing into Dragonspine? What a coincidence, he happens to have business there. Yes, really. But, oh it seems they cancelled last minute so now he will of course accompany you. His pyro vision can provide better warmth than whatever few seelies you come across, so it’s only reasonable he tag along.)

You might need to literally thwack him a couple of times to get him to stop being overbearing, but you can guarantee you’ll be taken care of with all your needs attended to.

𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀 ᥫ᭡

He won’t let you lift a finger the whole time you’re recovering. It doesn’t matter if you only have a bit of a cold, he will physically pick you up over his shoulder and drag you away from work/chores/any responsibility. If someone even dares to suggest you do something while unwell— even if you make it clear you can handle it —he will mercilessly cut them down with that little bastard smile of his playing on his lips.

“You can’t possibly be suggesting our dear Y/N take care of that in this condition. After everything they’ve done for us, no one would be selfish enough to deprive them of some well-earned rest, hm?”

This man will convince the whole of Mond that you need to be spoiled when sick. Good luck doing anything without people rushing to help you with that, no no sit down, you should rest, actually why don’t we just call Sir Kaeya, I’m sure I saw him around—

He does make sure not to annoy you too much with his antics, letting you be independent when it seems like you’re reaching your limit (as long as the task isn’t too taxing) and he’ll be sure to keep you company while you’re stuck at his home.

If you do get bored of being inside he’ll take you out, but don’t expect to set a foot on the ground as long as he’s there.

𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀 ᥫ᭡

Though he’s no physician, Kazuha is excellent at dealing with illness and injuries. He had to take care of his own by himself before joining the Crux, after all. And even now, he’s often sought out by the crew during voyages when someone needs medical attention. His calm and reassuring demeanour only further makes him the perfect candidate to be at your bedside.

After doing whatever he can to ease your symptoms, he lets you rest your head in his lap. Expect to be lulled to sleep by nimble fingers carding through your hair, and the sweet whistling tones of a leaf as Kazuha plays it for you— and you still can’t figure out how he manages to do that. He presses kisses to your forehead, your knuckles, your lips: you can remind him that your illness is contagious, but he’ll just smile and kiss you again softly.

“There is no greater honour, nor privilege I can imagine, than sharing the burdens of the one you love. Don’t fret, my dear. Let me hold the weight of all your troubles, and let me hold you, for as long as you will grant me that pleasure.”

𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐓𝐎 ᥫ᭡

For a man who is so powerful, so composed in public, he is a complete kid with you. He would mope and whine when you tell him you’re not getting out of bed that day. He’s always so bored when you leave him on his lonesome, and even if he can’t be by your side every second he still loves knowing there’s a chance of running into you around the estate or Inazuma itself. So of course he’ll try to goad you into getting up, wanting the two of you to start the day together.

But he changes his tune the moment he realises you’re truly unwell.

Ayato doesn’t hesitate to wrap you up in his arms for the duration of your illness. It’s not like Diluc where he insists on doing the work himself, he gets the staff to bring you whatever you need according to the doctor, but only so he can dedicate all his time showering you in love and affection. You get even more attention from him while you’re sick than you usually do (a feat that should be impossible). He’s a clingy bastard and is fully prepared to let the commission suffer until you’re better, unwilling to part for even a moment while you’re in this state. (He’s lucky Ayaka and Thoma keep things running in the meantime, but you can bet he’s in for a scolding from his sister when he returns to his duties).

If you don’t like being touched while sick, he’ll just stay by your side and keep you company. But if you give him the okay? Prepare for him to take advantage of you being stuck in bed to love on you ‘til his heart’s content.

“You know… some say the best way to recover from a cold is to pass it to someone else…”

By the time you’re feeling better, the idiot’s gotten himself sick. You can lecture him about being careless all you want, he just gives you a pleased grin as he looks up at you adoringly. Naturally, he never learns his lesson.

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄 ᥫ᭡

Will immediately panic when he sees you’re in bad shape. He’s equal parts alarmed and enraged, ready to seek vengeance on your behalf. Once he realises you’re just sick and not recovering from an attack, he’s more in his element. As a Snezhnayan, Childe is no stranger to illness. Young children, especially, are less tolerant to the cold, so he’s had plenty of experience looking after his younger siblings in that regard. He extends the same care to you: keeping a cooled wet towel on your forehead to settle your fever, cleaning your home with a frenzied determination, never allowing dust to settle and irritate your lungs.

Don’t even bother trying to eat yourself, he will feed you while you recline back on the mountain of pillows he fluffed up minutes prior. He makes the warm soup himself, but instead of the usual seafood concoctions he’s known for, it’s a much simpler, pleasant dish.

“My mother’s cure-all recipe; there’s nothing better for when you’re sick! The kids love it. In fact, Teucer’s even faked sick before just so she would make it for him, the little rascal. Try a bite, I promise you’ll be fighting fit in no time!”

Big malewife energy the whole time he’s taking care of you. He’s concerned about your health, of course, but because he’s done this before for his family he doesn’t feel panicked. Instead, he’s all warm smiles and attentive affection, making jokes to cheer you up while he keeps an eye on your condition. If you need anything from him, anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask.

[niallerspayno]

About Last Night (Louis Tomlinson x reader) - Fic Request

Masterlist

Anonymous request: Hi!! I was wondering if you could do Louis Tomlinson x fem! Reader who is in the band, her and Louis always had a flirty relationship but always told people it was a joke until one night during one of their tours things get heated between them and they hook up, a few weeks later reader finds out she’s pregnant and doesn’t know how to tell Louis so she goes to her best friend Niall Horan for advice and Louis ends up over hearing them? Smut and fluff please!!

Tags: Louis x reader, friends to lovers, smut, pregnancy, fluff, angst

Part 2 | Part 3 - coming soon

…

The arena hums softly with the buzz of amps and muffled conversations, but your focus is already on Louis, who stands near the drum kit, spinning a drumstick between his fingers with that familiar mischievous glint in his eye. This is how it’s always been with the two of you—partners in chaos, constantly toeing the line of what you can get away with, but never crossing it. The harmless flirting, the relentless teasing—it’s your thing.

“Don’t even think about it,” you call out, a grin tugging at your lips.

Louis turns to you, all innocence and dimples. “Think about what, love?”

“Oh, you know exactly what,” you say, stepping closer. “Put the stick down before you get us all in trouble.”

“Trouble?” he echoes, mock-offended. “I am the very definition of responsibility.”

“You’re the definition of a menace,” you retort, grabbing the other drumstick off the snare. You twirl it between your fingers and smirk at him. “If you’re going to cause chaos, at least make it entertaining.”

His eyes light up at your challenge. “I knew I could count on you, partner.”

Before anyone can stop you, Louis taps the microphone stand with his drumstick, and you follow suit, matching his rhythm with the snare drum. The resulting cacophony blares through the speakers, earning a collective groan from Liam and the sound crew.

“Really?!” Liam barks from center stage, throwing his hands up. “Do you two have to do this every time?”

“Yes,” you and Louis say in unison, both grinning like kids caught raiding the cookie jar.

“Unbelievable,” Liam mutters, shaking his head.

“Oh, lighten up, Payno,” Louis says, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “We’re just making things more fun.”

“Fun is subjective,” Liam replies, deadpan.

Louis doesn’t even acknowledge him, already pulling you toward the piano at the corner of the stage. “Come on, let’s give them a real show.”

You follow without hesitation, laughing as you plop down on the bench beside him. “Alright, Mozart, let’s hear it.”

“Watch and learn, darling,” he says, cracking his knuckles dramatically before slamming his fingers onto the keys.

The result is an aggressively off-key rendition of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, and you immediately burst into laughter, doubling over as he continues his “masterpiece.”

“Wow,” you say between giggles, clapping along. “Move over, Beethoven. Louis Tomlinson has arrived.”

“I know,” he says smugly, tossing you a wink. “Don’t be jealous of my talent.”

“Talent?” you tease, leaning closer. “This is more like a crime against music.”

“Oh, you wound me,” he says, clutching his chest in mock pain. “But I’ll forgive you because you look cute when you’re pretending to be unimpressed.”

You arch an eyebrow, leaning in just enough to close the space between you. “Who says I’m pretending?”

He falters for a split second, just enough for you to notice, before recovering with a smirk. “I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you reply, but the playful tone in your voice makes it clear you’re enjoying every second.

The moment lingers, his eyes locked on yours, the air between you buzzing with unspoken tension. But before anything can happen, Liam’s voice cuts through like a bucket of cold water.

“Enough!” he shouts. “Can we please get back to work?”

Louis groans dramatically, standing up and offering you a hand. “Fine, Payno. We’ll behave. For now.”

“Behaving’s overrated anyway,” you say, letting him pull you to your feet.

He grins, leaning in just enough to make your heart race. “Spoken like a true partner in crime.”

You smirk back, the flush creeping up your neck impossible to hide. “You couldn’t handle this partnership without me.”

“Oh, don’t I know it,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, before finally letting you go.

As you return to your spot on stage, his laughter still ringing in your ears, you can’t help but feel the familiar thrill that comes with being Louis’s partner in crime. This is just how it’s always been—safe, playful, and light. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

…

The club is alive with pulsing music, flashing lights, and the hum of conversation. The six of you—plus a few crew members—have commandeered a booth near the dance floor, a place to regroup between rounds of drinks and bursts of reckless fun. The night is supposed to be lighthearted, a rare break in the chaos of touring. But your attention keeps drifting toward the bar, where Louis leans casually against the counter, chatting up a pair of girls who can’t stop giggling at whatever he’s saying.

You take another sip of your drink, the sharp burn of tequila doing little to distract you. It shouldn’t bother you. This is Louis, after all—flirty, charming, and always ready to make someone’s night with a cheeky grin. It’s harmless. Always harmless. Just like it’s always been with you and him.

But tonight, it stings.

“You alright there, love?”

Niall’s voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you turn to find him sliding into the booth beside you, a fresh pint in hand. His blue eyes are sharper than they should be after three rounds, catching onto your mood immediately.

“Fine,” you say quickly, forcing a smile. “Just enjoying the view.”

Niall snorts, following your gaze toward Louis. “Ah. Him.”

“Him what?” you ask, though your tone is defensive even to your own ears.

“You’re watching him like he owes you money,” Niall says, smirking, but his voice softens when he adds, “What’s going on?”

You hesitate, swirling your drink in your hand. Niall’s always been the one you confide in, the one who listens without judgment. But this—whatever this is—feels like dangerous territory.

“It’s nothing,” you lie.

“Sure it is,” he says, leaning closer. “Come on. You’re never this quiet.”

You glance at Louis again, just in time to see him lean in to whisper something in one of the girls’ ears. Your chest tightens, and before you can stop yourself, the words spill out.

“It’s stupid,” you say, setting your glass down with more force than necessary. “I just… I don’t get how he can be like that. Flirting with everyone, acting like it’s all a game.”

Niall raises an eyebrow. “That’s just Louis, though. You know that.”

“Yeah,” you mutter, staring at the condensation on your glass. “But sometimes I wonder if it’s ever not a game for him. If he ever actually means it.”

Niall doesn’t answer right away, his gaze steady and thoughtful. Finally, he says, “And what if he does? Would that change things?”

You laugh, though it’s bitter and hollow. “Not for him. He’d still be Louis, and I’d still be the idiot who gets worked up over it.”

“Hey,” Niall says gently, nudging your shoulder. “You’re not an idiot. You care about him. That’s not stupid.”

You look at him, startled by how easily he’s put words to something you’ve been trying to deny. “I didn’t say I care about him.”

“You didn’t have to.”

His voice is kind, but it hits you like a punch to the gut. You reach for your drink again, draining the rest of it in one go.

“Okay,” you say, standing up abruptly. “I need another one.”

“Hang on,” Niall says, grabbing your wrist before you can escape. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? You’re already—”

“Drinking?” you interrupt, flashing him a wry smile. “Yeah, I know. That’s kind of the point.”

Niall lets you go, watching as you make your way to the bar. You don’t look at Louis as you order another round, but you can feel his presence—his laughter, his charm—like a static charge in the air.

When you return to the booth, Niall’s still waiting, his expression unreadable. “You don’t have to tell him, you know,” he says quietly.

“Tell him what?”

“Whatever it is you’re feeling. If you’re not ready, that’s okay.”

You sit down, your drink clutched tightly in your hands. “What if I never am?”

Niall shrugs, his usual easygoing demeanor softening. “Then that’s okay, too. But just… don’t beat yourself up over it, alright? He’s an idiot, but he’d be even more of one not to see how great you are.”

You manage a small smile, but the ache in your chest doesn’t fade. Across the room, Louis throws his head back in laughter, and you drain your drink, trying not to think about what it would mean if Niall was right.

...

You’re halfway through your drink, the alcohol starting to make the room blur at the edges, when you feel someone slide into the booth beside you. It’s not Niall this time—he’s gone to the bar for another round.

“Having fun, partner?”

You don’t need to look to know it’s Louis. His voice, low and warm, cuts through the haze like a match striking in the dark.

“Loads,” you reply, your tone sharper than you intended. You focus on your glass, not him.

There’s a pause, and then he leans closer, so close you can feel the heat of him against your arm. “What’s got you in a mood, then?”

You scoff, finally turning to meet his gaze. “Why would I be in a mood?”

Louis’s brow furrows, and he studies you with a mixture of curiosity and concern. “Dunno. That’s why I’m asking.”

You shrug, trying to brush him off. “It’s nothing. Go back to your fans.”

Realization dawns in his expression, and his lips curve into a small smirk. “Ah, so that’s what this is about.”

You roll your eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” he says, his tone light but his eyes sharp. He tilts his head toward the bar, where the girls he’d been chatting with have moved on. “They’re just fans, love. Took a couple photos, had a laugh. That’s all.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you say quickly, taking another sip of your drink.

“Clearly, it does,” he counters, his voice dipping lower.

You glance at him, and the teasing edge in his expression is gone, replaced by something quieter. More serious. It makes your stomach flip, and you hate how easily he gets under your skin.

“I just don’t get how you can do it,” you murmur, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “Turn it on and off like it’s nothing.”

Louis stares at you for a moment, his blue eyes searching yours. Then he leans back slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You think it’s nothing?”

You don’t answer, and he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not. I just… I don’t know. It’s easier sometimes to keep it light, you know? Keeps people from expecting too much.”

Your chest tightens at his words, and you look away, focusing on the dance floor instead. It feels safer than looking at him when he’s being like this—honest and raw in a way that catches you off guard.

Louis follows your gaze, then nudges you with his shoulder. “Come on.”

“What?”

“Dance with me.”

You blink at him. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” he says, standing up and holding a hand out to you. “Unless you’re scared you can’t keep up.”

It’s a challenge, one you’d normally accept without hesitation. But tonight, there’s something heavier in the air between you, something that makes you hesitate.

“Louis…” you start, but he cuts you off.

“Just one dance, love. For old time’s sake.”

You sigh, finishing the last of your drink before placing your hand in his. His grip is warm and steady as he pulls you to your feet, leading you toward the dance floor.

The music is loud and fast, but Louis doesn’t seem to care. He spins you around dramatically, earning a laugh despite yourself, and when he pulls you close, his grin is infectious.

“There she is,” he says, his voice just loud enough for you to hear over the music. “I knew you couldn’t stay mad at me.”

“I’m not mad,” you reply, though you’re not sure it’s true.

“No?” he asks, leaning in until his lips are just inches from your ear. “Then what are you?”

The question lingers, hanging between you as the beat of the music thrums in your chest. You glance up at him, your breath catching at the way he’s looking at you—like you’re the only thing in the room that matters.

And then, as if drawn by some invisible force, your fingers tighten around his, and you let him pull you closer.

The music is deafening, the bass vibrating through your chest as Louis pulls you closer. The heat of the crowd presses in around you—sweaty bodies moving together in time with the pulsing beat—but all you can feel is him. His hand rests lightly on your waist, fingers brushing against the bare skin where your top has ridden up, and the touch sends a jolt of electricity through you.

You match his rhythm, your bodies swaying together as the lights flash and the room spins in a blur of color and sound. He leans down, his breath warm against your ear as he murmurs something you can’t hear over the music. But it doesn’t matter, because the low rasp of his voice alone makes your pulse race.

Your hands find their way to his shoulders, then slide down to his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath your fingertips. His eyes lock onto yours, dark and intense, and for a moment, it’s as if the entire club has faded away.

He’s looking at you like he’s never seen you before, like he’s trying to memorize every detail. And you can’t look away.

“Louis,” you manage to say, but your voice is swallowed by the music.

He doesn’t answer, just pulls you even closer, his forehead resting lightly against yours. His hand tightens on your waist, his thumb tracing slow circles against your skin, and it’s almost too much.

The air between you is charged, thick with something you can’t quite name but can’t ignore either. And when his lips brush against your temple—soft, almost tentative—it sends a shiver down your spine.

Your resolve snaps.

Without thinking, you grab his hand and tug him toward the edge of the dance floor, weaving through the crowd until you find a dark hallway leading toward the bathrooms.

“Here?” he asks, his voice rough and breathless as you pull him into the dimly lit space.

“Unless you’ve got a better idea,” you reply, your back pressing against the wall as he steps closer, crowding into your space.

He doesn’t hesitate. His hands are on your hips in an instant, his lips crashing against yours with a force that makes your head spin. It’s all heat and desperation, months of tension unraveling in a single, searing kiss.

You fist your hands in his shirt, pulling him closer, and he groans softly against your lips. The sound sends a thrill through you, and you arch into him, gasping when his mouth moves to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses down your skin.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs against your throat, his voice low and strained.

But stopping is the last thing on your mind. “Don’t,” you whisper.

The noise of the club fades into a dull throb, your pulse pounding in your ears as Louis pulls you deeper into the hallway. His grip is unrelenting, his hand firm around your wrist as he guides you toward the dimly lit bathroom, the air thick with the sharp scent of alcohol and sweat. When you step inside, he doesn’t hesitate. He closes the door behind you with a soft thud, and before you can even process what’s happening, he’s already pulling you toward him, his hands sliding to the curve of your waist.

"Fuck," he breathes, his voice low, gravelly, as he looks you over. His eyes darken with something primal, raw. "I need you."

The way he says it—like there’s no choice in the matter, like he’s been waiting for this—makes your stomach flutter with anticipation. Your heart races as he lifts you effortlessly, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. His body presses flush against yours, the heat radiating off of him like a furnace.

You’re suddenly aware of everything—his breath against your skin, the brush of his chest against yours, the sensation of his hands sliding down to grip your thighs as he carries you toward one of the stalls. The door bangs against the wall as he kicks it open with a force that leaves you breathless. You barely register it, too caught up in the way he’s looking at you—so intensely, so urgently—that it’s like the entire world outside has ceased to exist.

Louis doesn’t give you a moment to breathe. He presses you back against the door, and the sharp click of the lock echoes in the small space. His hands move to the hem of your shirt, lifting it slowly, deliberately, until the cool air hits your skin. The contrast of the cold on your warm body makes you gasp, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling of him against you.

"God, you're perfect," he mutters under his breath, his eyes raking over you like he can’t quite believe you’re here. His mouth finds the curve of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that makes your pulse spike. He’s everywhere at once—his lips, his hands, his body—leaving no space between the two of you.

His lips trail lower, his breath hot as it brushes against your collarbone, and you can’t help but shiver, arching into him as his hands slip lower, tracing the curve of your waist and hips. “Louis,” you breathe, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

“You want this,” he says, his voice rough with hunger as he presses his body into yours. His hands slide under your skirt, gripping your thighs, his thumbs brushing the inside of your legs. The sensation sends a shock of desire through you, and you tighten your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer.

You’re both moving instinctively now—his body surging into yours, your hands tearing at his jeans, pushing them down just enough so you can feel the hard line of him pressing into you. You’re both breathless, desperate, as your bodies start moving together, finding a rhythm born from nothing but pure need.

The heat between you is overwhelming, suffocating. You can feel every inch of him against you, your bodies grinding together with a desperation that feels like it's been building for weeks, months even. His lips find yours again, more forcefully this time, his tongue slipping between your lips as your hands roam over his chest, feeling the hard planes of his body.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groans against your mouth, his hands moving to the zipper of your skirt, tugging it down, leaving you exposed to him in the dim light.

You gasp as the cold air hits your skin, but the shock of it only fuels the fire between you. You push him back slightly, giving yourself enough room to pull off your panties, tossing them carelessly to the side. His eyes darken at the sight, and he groans again, his hands trembling slightly as they slide down your body.

“God, you’re killing me,” he mutters as he presses his body into yours again, the door rattling against the force of it. His lips trail down your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin, and you can’t help the moan that slips from your mouth.

“You want me?” he asks, his voice low, dangerous, as his hands slide between your bodies, his fingers brushing against you, making you gasp.

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, I need you.”

And just like that, he’s pulling you closer, his hands gripping your hips with bruising force as he positions himself against you. The first thrust is slow, deliberate, but it doesn’t take long for the urgency to take over, for both of you to lose control.

Your bodies move together with a frantic rhythm, the pressure building, tightening, until you feel like you’re going to explode. The sensation is overwhelming, dizzying, and you cling to him, feeling his hands grip your skin like he’s afraid to let go. His breath comes in ragged gasps against your ear as he buries his face in your neck, his body pressing into yours with every thrust.

The world outside the stall is forgotten—there’s nothing but the sound of your breathing, the rhythm of your bodies, the urgent need to feel more.

When it happens, it’s all at once—the sharp pull of release, the sensation of your body shuddering as he groans your name, the feeling of him inside you. You lose yourself in him completely, and for a moment, the entire world falls away, leaving nothing but the raw, pulsing connection between the two of you.

For a long time, neither of you speaks. You’re both panting, trying to catch your breath as you stand there, still tangled together in the small, dimly lit stall. The air is thick, heavy with the aftermath, and the sound of the club’s music feels distant now, like it belongs to someone else’s world.

Louis rests his forehead against yours, his hands still cradling your hips as if he’s afraid to let you go. His breathing slows, but his grip on you doesn’t loosen.

“Are you okay?” he murmurs, his voice soft, the intensity from moments ago replaced with something else. Something almost tender.

You nod, your hands tracing the lines of his back, still feeling the echo of his touch. “Yeah,” you whisper. “I’m more than okay.”

And for a brief, fleeting moment, it feels like everything has shifted.

...

The morning light seeps through the curtains, casting pale slivers across the room, and you wake with a pounding headache that has everything to do with last night. As you sit up, stretching stiff muscles, your fingers graze your neck, and you freeze.

You already know what you’ll find. Your stomach flips as you rush to the mirror, pulling your hair away to reveal dark, circular marks. Hickeys. Louis’s hickeys.

Heat floods your face as the memories from last night rush back—his hands on your body, the rasp of his voice in your ear, the way he kissed you like he was starving for it. A shiver runs through you, not from regret, but from how damn good it all was.

Still, the marks are a problem. You grab your makeup bag and get to work, layering concealer and powder until they’re faint enough to be hidden by your hair. It’s not perfect, but it’ll have to do. You can’t let the others see. You can’t let anyone see.

Your phone buzzes on the counter, pulling you from your thoughts. It’s a message from Louis: "You good?"

Your heart hammers as you type back: "We need to talk."

A few minutes later, you’re knocking on his door. When it swings open, Louis is there—hair tousled, barefoot, still half-asleep, but the way he looks at you makes it clear he knows why you’re here.

“Hey,” you say, stepping inside. Your voice feels thin, unsure, but you force yourself to keep going. “About last night...”

Louis closes the door behind you and leans against it, crossing his arms. “Yeah,” he says slowly, watching you with that sharp, unreadable gaze of his.

“I woke up with... these,” you continue, gesturing toward your neck. His eyes follow the motion, a smirk twitching at his lips as he realizes what you’re talking about.

“Didn’t think I went that hard,” he teases, but there’s something softer underneath his usual playfulness. “Sorry about that.”

You let out a shaky laugh, your fingers brushing over the covered marks. “It’s fine. I covered them up, but, Louis... no one can know about this. The others would never let us live it down.”

Louis straightens, the smirk slipping into something more serious. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s probably best if we keep it between us.”

The weight of that decision settles over the room, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. Then, Louis lets out a low laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean, for what it’s worth... it was a really fucking good time.”

Your breath catches, your heart flipping at the sincerity in his tone. A small, involuntary smile tugs at your lips. “Yeah,” you admit softly, meeting his gaze. “It really was.”

The tension in the room shifts—heavier, but warmer. There’s something unspoken between you, something lingering from last night, but you force yourself to push it aside.

“But it was... a one-time thing,” you say, your voice firmer now. “We were drunk, caught up in the moment. It doesn’t mean anything. Right?”

Louis hesitates, his jaw tightening ever so slightly before he nods. “Right,” he agrees, though his voice doesn’t carry the same conviction. “Just a one-time thing. We go back to normal. Friends. Bandmates. No weirdness.”

You nod, the words hanging heavy in the air. “Alright,” you say, standing and smoothing your shirt. “I’ll see you at soundcheck.”

Louis follows you to the door, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. “Yeah,” he says softly. “See you there.”

You step out into the hallway, feeling the weight of everything unspoken between you. The memory of last night burns in your mind, and as much as you tell yourself it was a mistake, a small, stubborn part of you knows it wasn’t.

And as you walk away, you know the secret you’re both keeping won’t be the hardest part. The hardest part will be pretending that you don’t want more.

...

The hotel bathroom feels impossibly small, its tiled walls closing in on you as you stare down at the pregnancy test in your trembling hands. The instructions are simple, straightforward, but they feel like a foreign language as you reread them for the third time.

Niall is waiting just outside, sitting on the edge of your hotel bed. You hadn’t planned to involve him this much, but when you decided to sneak out and buy the test earlier, he’d been the one person you trusted enough to call. Now, as the reality of what you’re about to do looms over you, you’re beyond grateful he’s here.

“Everything okay in there?” Niall’s voice drifts through the door, steady and calm.

“Yeah,” you call back, though your voice wavers. “I’m doing it now.”

“Take your time,” he replies, his tone gentle.

You follow the instructions mechanically, your heart pounding louder with every step. When it’s done, you set the test on the counter, face down, and set the timer on your phone. For a moment, you just stand there, gripping the edge of the sink to steady yourself.

When the timer buzzes, you hesitate, your hand hovering over the test.

“You good?” Niall asks from the other side of the door, the concern in his voice unmistakable.

You take a deep breath and pick up the test. The result is instant.

Pregnant.

The air rushes out of your lungs, and you open the bathroom door without even thinking. Niall is on his feet in an instant, his eyes scanning your face.

“What does it say?” he asks, his voice soft but urgent.

You hold up the test, your hand shaking. “It���s positive,” you whisper. “I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, Niall just stares, processing the words. Then, he crosses the room in two quick steps and pulls you into a hug. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s gonna be okay. I’ve got you.”

You cling to him, tears spilling over as the weight of the situation crashes down on you. After a moment, he pulls back, his hands resting on your shoulders as he studies your face.

“Do you… know who the father is?” he asks carefully.

You nod, wiping your eyes. “It’s Louis.”

Niall’s eyebrows shoot up, and his mouth falls open slightly. “Louis?”

You laugh, a short, incredulous sound that bubbles out of you before you can stop it. “Yeah. It was that night we all went out to the bar.”

Realization dawns in his eyes, and he stares at you like he’s trying to piece it together. “Wait—so… the bathroom stall?”

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “Yes, the bathroom stall,” you say, your voice muffled.

For a moment, there’s silence. Then, to your surprise, Niall starts to laugh—a low chuckle that quickly turns into full-on laughter. It’s contagious, and soon you’re laughing too, tears streaming down your face as the absurdity of it all sinks in.

“I can’t believe I’m having a baby that was conceived in a bathroom stall,” you manage to choke out, shaking your head.

Niall grins, his laughter fading into a warm smile. “Hey, at least you’ll have a good story for the kid someday.”

You snort, wiping your cheeks. “Yeah, I’m sure that’ll go over great.”

As the laughter subsides, Niall’s expression grows serious again. “You're going to have to tell Louis.”

You shake your head, the weight of that reality settling over you. “Not yet. I don’t even know how to tell him.”

Niall squeezes your shoulder reassuringly. “You don’t have to figure it out alone. I’m here, alright? Whatever you need.”

His support steadies you, and you nod, a small spark of determination flickering to life. “Thanks, Niall,” you say softly.

He smiles, giving your shoulder a final squeeze. “We’ll figure it out. One step at a time.”

...

The hotel dining room buzzes with the usual morning energy: clinking cutlery, muted conversation, and the aroma of coffee filling the air. You sit with the boys, doing your best to seem normal as you pick at a piece of toast. The nausea has become a constant companion, and exhaustion drags at you more with each passing day.

“Still not feeling well?” Liam asks, glancing at your plate with a worried frown.

You force a smile. “It’s just a bug. I’ll be fine.”

“You’ve been saying that for weeks,” Zayn points out, his tone sharper than Liam’s, though there’s concern in his dark eyes.

Harry leans back in his chair, studying you closely. “You need to see a doctor. You’re barely eating, and you look knackered.”

“Thanks, Harry,” you say dryly, hoping humor will deflect their growing concern.

Louis, who’s been uncharacteristically quiet throughout breakfast, lifts his coffee cup to his lips but says nothing. His eyes linger on you, though, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze.

“I’ll be fine,” you insist again, grabbing your mug and taking a sip even though the coffee turns your stomach. “Just need some rest.”

The boys don’t look convinced, but they eventually let it drop as the conversation shifts to tour logistics. When breakfast wraps up, everyone begins dispersing to their rooms.

As you step into the hallway, Niall gently catches your arm. “Hey, can we talk for a sec?”

“Sure,” you say, letting him steer you toward a quieter section of the corridor.

Unbeknownst to either of you, Louis lingers just out of sight around the corner, pretending to check his phone.

Niall keeps his voice low as he speaks. “How are you holding up? Really.”

You glance around nervously, making sure no one is nearby. “I’m okay,” you lie, though your voice wavers. “Just... trying to figure things out.”

He frowns, clearly not buying it. “You’ve got to stop pushing yourself so hard. This isn’t just about you anymore.”

“I know,” you whisper, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s just... it’s a lot, Niall.”

“Have you thought more about telling Louis?”

The question hangs in the air, and your heart sinks. “I don’t even know where to start,” you admit. “How do I tell him that I’m pregnant and it’s his baby? That it happened in a bloody bathroom stall?”

Niall snorts, though his expression quickly turns serious again. “You’re going to have to tell him eventually. He deserves to know, and you deserve to have his support.”

“I know,” you say quietly. “I just… I’m scared, Niall. What if he freaks out? What if it changes everything between us?”

“He might freak out,” Niall says honestly. “But he’s Louis. He’ll step up. You’ve got to trust him—and yourself.”

Neither of you notice the shadow around the corner or the way Louis freezes in place, his breath catching as he processes what he just overheard.

“I’ll tell him,” you say finally, your voice shaky but resolute. “I just need to figure out how.”

Niall nods, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ve got your back.”

You manage a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Niall. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

As the two of you part ways, Louis remains rooted to his spot, his mind racing. He had only stopped to grab his jacket, not to eavesdrop—but now, he can’t unhear what’s just been revealed.

Pregnant. His baby.

The words loop in his mind, crashing over him in waves of shock and disbelief. He grips the wall for support, his heart pounding as he tries to process what this means—for you, for him, for everything.

...

The hotel suite is unusually quiet, the remnants of breakfast scattered across the coffee table as the boys lounge around. You’re absent, having slipped away earlier, and the rest of the group assumes you’re just taking some much-needed time to yourself.

Louis, however, can’t sit still. He paces the room, his jaw tight and his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. His thoughts are a jumbled mess, but one thing is clear: he needs answers.

Niall, sitting on the armrest of a couch, notices the tension radiating off Louis. “Mate, you alright?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

That’s all it takes for Louis to stop pacing and whirl around to face him. “No, Niall, I’m not alright,” he snaps, his voice sharp enough to make everyone else in the room sit up straighter.

“What’s going on?” Liam asks, frowning.

Louis ignores him, his blue eyes locked on Niall. “How long were you planning on keeping it from me?” he demands, his voice rising.

“Keeping what from you?” Niall replies carefully, though his face pales slightly.

“Don’t play dumb with me!” Louis shouts, taking a step closer. “I know. I heard you talking to her this morning.”

The room falls into stunned silence, and Zayn and Harry exchange wide-eyed looks.

“What are you talking about?” Harry finally asks, his tone laced with confusion.

Louis doesn’t even glance at him. His focus is still entirely on Niall. “She’s pregnant, isn’t she? And it’s mine.”

Niall’s mouth opens and closes a few times, but no sound comes out. The rest of the boys look utterly shell-shocked, their eyes darting between Louis and Niall.

“Is it true?” Liam asks, his voice quieter now, though no less serious.

Niall lets out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. “It wasn’t my place to tell you, Louis,” he says, his voice firm despite the guilt flickering in his eyes. “She needed time to figure out how to say it herself.”

Louis’s laugh is bitter, almost disbelieving. “Time? You don’t think I deserved to know right away? That I deserved to hear it from her—or at least someone—before overhearing you whispering about it in a bloody hallway?”

“I was just trying to be there for her,” Niall says defensively, standing now to meet Louis’s glare. “She’s scared out of her mind, Louis. This isn’t easy for her.”

“You think this is easy for me?” Louis shoots back, his voice cracking slightly. “Finding out I’m going to be a dad like this?”

The words hang in the air, heavy and raw.

Zayn leans forward, his brow furrowed. “Wait. Are you saying Y/N’s pregnant, and it’s yours?”

“Yes,” Louis snaps, throwing his arms out in frustration. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Harry sits back, his jaw slack as he processes the revelation. “Bloody hell.”

“Look, I get that you’re upset,” Niall says, his tone softer now. “But she needed time to figure things out. I was just trying to support her until she was ready to talk to you.”

“She should’ve come to me,” Louis mutters, his anger ebbing slightly but still palpable. “I deserved to know.”

“And she knows that,” Niall replies. “But she’s been scared, Louis. She didn’t want to mess everything up. She didn’t know how you’d react.”

Louis takes a deep breath, his hands raking through his hair as he processes Niall’s words. “I don’t know how to react,” he admits, his voice quieter now. “This is... massive.”

“It is,” Liam says, speaking up for the first time since the confrontation started. “But it’s not something you have to figure out alone. We’re all here for both of you.”

Louis looks around the room, his frustration slowly giving way to uncertainty. “I need to talk to her,” he says finally, more to himself than anyone else.

“Then do that,” Niall says gently. “But give her some grace, mate. She’s dealing with a lot.”

Louis nods, his expression still tense but less combative. Without another word, he turns and walks out of the room, leaving the rest of the boys in stunned silence.

...

You’re standing at the sink in your hotel bathroom, clutching the edge of the counter to steady yourself as another wave of nausea passes. The fluorescent lights buzz faintly, adding to the headache pounding at your temples.

Splashing cold water on your face, you glance at your reflection, pale and drawn. You’d thought you could keep things under control, at least for a little while longer. But the toll on your body is becoming harder and harder to hide.

A knock at the bathroom door startles you. Before you can answer, Louis’s voice cuts through.

“Y/N, it’s me. Open up.”

Your stomach twists for an entirely different reason now. His tone is firm, no trace of his usual teasing lilt. You grab a towel to pat your face dry, stalling for time.

“I’m fine, Louis,” you call back, trying to sound normal.

“I’m not leaving,” he says, and you can hear the resolve in his voice. “We need to talk.”

With a resigned sigh, you open the door. Louis is standing there, arms crossed and a look of determination on his face. The blue of his eyes is intense, searching yours for answers you’re not ready to give.

“Can we do this later?” you ask weakly.

“No,” he says, stepping into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. “I know.”

Your breath catches. “You know what?”

“I know you’re pregnant,” he says, his voice quieter now but no less firm. “And I know it’s mine.”

The air feels sucked out of the room, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him.

“How—” you start, but he cuts you off.

“I heard you and Niall talking this morning,” he admits. “I wasn’t eavesdropping—it just happened. And now I need to hear it from you. Is it true?”

You look down at your feet, your hands trembling. “Yes,” you whisper.

Louis exhales sharply, leaning back against the door as he runs a hand through his hair. “How long have you known?”

“About a week,” you admit, your voice barely audible. “I wasn’t sure at first, but I took a test. Niall’s the only one I told.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, his voice cracking slightly. “Why did I have to find out like this?”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you sink onto the closed toilet lid. “I didn’t know how to, Louis,” you confess. “It’s not exactly an easy thing to bring up. And I didn’t know how you’d react. I was scared.”

“Scared of me?” he asks, his brows knitting together.

“No,” you say quickly. “Not of you. Just... of everything. What this means for us, for the band. I didn’t want to ruin everything.”

Louis crouches down in front of you, his hands resting on your knees. The unexpected tenderness in the gesture makes your chest tighten.

“You’re not ruining anything,” he says softly, his voice steadier now. “But you can’t shut me out of this. I deserve to know what’s going on, Y/N. This is my baby too.”

The weight of his words hits you, and you nod, wiping at your eyes. “I know. I’m sorry, Louis. I was just... trying to figure it all out.”

“Well, you don’t have to do it alone anymore,” he says, his hands squeezing your knees gently. “We’ll figure it out together.”

You look up at him, surprised by the conviction in his voice. “You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” he says, a small, reassuring smile tugging at his lips. “We might not have planned this, but it’s happening. And I’m not going anywhere.”

For the first time in days, a flicker of hope sparks in your chest. “Thank you,” you whisper.

Louis stands, offering you his hand. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s get out of this bathroom. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

You take his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. And for the first time, you feel like maybe, just maybe, you won’t have to face this alone.

Louis doesn’t let go of your hand as he leads you out of the bathroom, guiding you to sit on the edge of the bed. He stays standing for a moment, running a hand through his hair as if trying to gather his thoughts. When he finally sits beside you, he turns to face you fully, his expression serious but gentle.

“I know this probably feels overwhelming,” he starts, his voice softer now. “But I need you to know something. I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. Not now, not ever.”

Tears prick your eyes again, and you bite your lip, overwhelmed by the sincerity in his words. “Louis, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he interrupts firmly. “This isn’t about what I have to do. This is my baby, and you... you’re everything to me.”

Your breath catches, and you stare at him, unsure if you heard him correctly. “What do you mean?”

He exhales deeply, a small, nervous smile tugging at his lips. “I mean I’ve been in love with you for ages, Y/N. I’ve just been too much of a coward to say it.”

“Louis...”

He laughs softly, though there’s a trace of vulnerability in his eyes. “It’s true. I’ve hidden behind all the jokes and the flirting because I was terrified you didn’t feel the same. I thought if I said something, I’d ruin what we have. And then that night at the club happened, and I thought maybe... but you said it was a mistake, and I didn’t want to push.”

You shake your head, a tear slipping down your cheek. “It wasn’t a mistake,” you admit, your voice trembling. “I only said that because I was scared. Scared of ruining what we have, just like you were. But I’ve been in love with you too, Louis. For so long.”

His eyes widen, and for a moment, he looks utterly stunned. “You mean that?”

“Yes,” you whisper, reaching for his hand. “I mean it.”

He lets out a soft, incredulous laugh, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “All this time, we’ve been dancing around each other like idiots.”

You laugh too, though it’s choked with emotion. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

The two of you sit there for a moment, letting the weight of the truth settle between you. Then Louis’s grin turns mischievous, his blue eyes sparkling.

“Can you believe our kid’s going to have the most ridiculous conception story ever?” he says, his voice teasing.

You can’t help but laugh, the tension breaking slightly. “Conceived in a bathroom stall at a nightclub,” you say, shaking your head. “That’s not exactly the romantic story you tell at family gatherings.”

Louis chuckles, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. “No, but it’s our story,” he says, his tone softening again. “And I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

The warmth in his gaze makes your heart swell, and before you can overthink it, you lean in. Louis meets you halfway, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s nothing like the heated, impulsive one from that night. This one is slow, deliberate, and full of everything you’ve both been holding back.

When you finally pull apart, he rests his forehead against yours, his hand still cradling your face. “I’m all in, Y/N,” he says quietly. “For you, for this baby. For everything.”

A tear slips down your cheek, but this time it’s one of relief, not fear. “Me too,” you whisper.

The two of you sit there in the quiet, holding each other as the enormity of the moment settles in. For the first time in weeks, you feel like everything might just be okay.

...

Part 2

[nilfgaardianleviosa]

I wrote a short one-shot to commemorate Catviman, because he's amazing and I love him. Thank you, @rivaerys, for letting me do something for your art! Just in time for Levi's b-day, too.

More than Just a Hobby 1.3k words, 5 min read, mostly fluff Tw: Cat-calling, short instance of being followed

“Come on, pretty lady. Where you going?”

You hugged your purse tighter across your body, walking briskly down the dark street. This creep had been following you for the past five blocks now. There was no one else around. You had deliberately avoided going straight to your house, trying to think of a way to shake the guy or at least call the cops before he caught up to you. 

Damnit, where the hell was your phone?

His voice came closer than before. “I promise to show you a good time.”

You ignored him, digging through your purse. When your fingers finally brushed the glass screen, you internally rejoiced. But then, not a second later, the creep was practically on top of you. He caught your wrist and sneered in your face, smelling strongly of alcohol and cigarettes. “Whatcha got in there, huh?”

“L-Let go!”

He tightened his grip, and the thought of screaming finally came to mind, but something beat you to the punch. 

Meow!!

There was a flash of black, and your stalker lurched away, screaming as a small cat latched onto his face. It yeowled and hissed, paws flying as it viciously clawed at his eyes. You stumbled back in shock, watching the man grasp and struggle, trying unsuccessfully to rip the feral cat off of him. 

Then, right as you thought you might have understood what was going on, a man clad in black appeared next to you. He stepped forward and delivered a swift roundhouse kick to the stalker’s torso. 

“Gwaahhh!” The stalker fell to the ground in a heap, and the cat jumped away, gracefully landing on the pavement. The man wallowed in pain on the sidewalk, clutching his bleeding face.

The events were jarring enough to make you cry out in confusion. “Oh my goodness!”

“Calm down, please,” said the man in black, adjusting his gloves. Directing your attention to him revealed a sight that you couldn’t quite believe.

There, standing with his arms crossed, was Catviman. 

The mysterious hero of the city. An infamous crime fighter known far and wide. Although he worked outside the law, the police sometimes relied on him to catch the city’s toughest criminals. A few times you had been lucky enough to see the giant cat-shaped spotlight they beamed into the sky during times of need. You had pictures of it on your cell phone to show off to your friends. They would never believe this. 

Catviman was…shorter than you had imagined. He was wearing his signature cat-eared helmet and red goggles over his eyes. The shine of his leather suit bulged with lean muscles, and to top off the classic Catviman look you had seen in the papers, there was a deep scowl set into his face. 

It was really him. 

As you searched for words to say, his cat trotted over. He leaned down to let it jump onto his shoulder, and you noticed for the first time that it was wearing a tiny white cravat. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, standing up straight and reaching up to scratch the cat’s cheek. It purred and happily craned its neck to get more scritches under the chin. 

This was surreal. “Uh—yeah. Thanks, for saving me.”

“Don’t mention it.” He pulled out a phone and dialed a number before putting it to his ear. “Hey, it’s me. Got another one, corner of fiftieth and Rainey.” As he went to hang up, someone shouted at him from the other line. 

“Damnit Catviman! Can we have five minutes to—“ 

Click. 

“Cops’ll be here soon,” he said, pocketing the phone. “You’ll need to give them a witness report. Shouldn’t take long.”

“Oh, okay.” You stood there in silence for a moment, still in a bit of shock. The stalker groaned, writhing in pain on the ground. Then you remembered your manners. “Is there anything I can do to thank you? I do have some cash…” You began to dig for your wallet, but he held a hand out to stop you. 

“Please don’t worry about it. I’m not here for your money.”

You looked at him, a bit wide-eyed. “Then what should I give you?”

He shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded once, completely straight faced. “Positive.”

Wow, Catviman wasn’t just a crime fighter, he had a heart of gold. But even if this was just a hobby for him, you didn’t want to walk away without showing some appreciation. “Well, at least let me thank your cat for saving me.”

Catviman raised his shoulder, bouncing his sidekick slightly as he gave it a dirty look. “Psh, this guy? He gets spoiled enough with treats.”

You walked closer anyway, reaching your hand out and giving him a questioning look. “Maybe just some pets then?”

“Uh, sure.”

You let the cat sniff your fingers before going up to scratch his head. He happily closed his eyes in response, purring loudly and tilting his head when you rubbed his ears. “Aw, you’re so sweet. Thank you for saving me, Mister.”

“His name is Nightwing.”

“How cute!” You leaned in to let the cat touch his nose to yours, leaving you smiling when you turned to meet Catviman’s eyes. His gaze was intense from underneath the red goggles. You took in a breath, realizing how close you had gotten just by petting his sidekick. Catviman was really quite handsome. “Um, he’s really sweet.”

“Yeah.” His voice was deep and smooth. It gave you a sense of comfort and familiarity. 

You blushed. “Can I, uh, can I give you something, too?”

“Like what?”

“A small token of my appreciation?”

Catviman stared at you for another moment, unsure of what to say. You touched his arm and leaned forward, and he tensed. “What are you—“

Before he could react, you planted a soft kiss on his cheek. One fit for a hero. 

Catviman huffed as you pulled away, rubbing his cheek as the other one turned a shocking shade of pink. “That’s…you didn’t have to do that.”

“But I wanted to. It’s the least I could do.”

“Tch, alright.”

He regained his poise and met your gaze, and you felt a tug at your heart. Something about this mysterious masked man enticed you beyond words. Maybe you could ask for his number, just in case you needed to call him, with an emergency of course. 

A police siren chirped, and red and blue lights flashed brightly throughout the street. You turned to watch a cop car pull up next to the curb. Two disgruntled officers climbed out and began to walk over.

“You alright, ma’am?” one asked. 

“Yes, I’m fine.” You turned to give Catviman the credit for your well-being, but the street was empty save for your stalker. 

Catviman was gone. 

—

That night, you dreamed of a cat-eared helmet and a tiny cravat, and of getting to thank Catviman with a proper kiss. His strong arms would have wrapped around you, holding you in a safe embrace as his lips met yours over and over again. Just like the romantic scenes in the superhero movies. 

But maybe he was destined to be the one that got away.

Nonetheless, in the morning you felt incredibly happy. Thankful to just be safe, and to know that someone amazing had saved you, even if he didn’t share the same interest you had for him. 

When you walked into the break room at work, itching to tell someone your story, you were ecstatic to see your favorite cat-loving coworker making his morning tea. 

“Levi! You’ll never guess what happened to me last night.”

He turned, leaning on the counter with a mug in his hands, and he gave you that signature bored look. “Please make it interesting this time.”

…catviman

[corysmiles]

Runes and Ruin Part 4

An Arcane G/T Fic

Notes: Here's my christmas gift to the gt people I hope you enjoy jayvik angst and hurt/comfort time featuring Jayce taking tiny viktor to a gala event >:]

—————————————

After the day of the apology, the one Viktor had thought would never come, Jayce had gotten far more touchy with Viktor. It had started with that afternoon, Viktor asleep against his chest with a large warm hand pressing into him like a weighted blanket, not moving until Jayce had to get up to cook. It was nice while it lasted, the touch Viktor had always craved but could never ask for, but he knew it was likely a one time thing…

But then it continued on into the next day…and the next day, until the moments where Jayce wasn’t touching him in one way or another started to become few and far between.

When they were together it was almost like Jayce was a magnet, constantly drawn to Viktor’s presence, the Earth in constant orbit of the Sun, his hands itching to touch him whenever he was close, like it hurt to not be in contact. He’d always been a touchy person, Viktor knew that- it was impossible to avoid when they had spent so many years in the lab together. But this was new…and Viktor was sure it was going to kill him.

They had been working for a few hours already, Viktor nestled against the side of Jayce’s neck so he could better see the work desk. They had tried so many rune combinations by that point, entire pages in Jayce’s notebook filled with possibilities that never came to fruition.

Jayce huffed, brows furrowed in equal parts curiosity and frustration as another plant turned to dust on the table in front of them with a shock of blue light.

“Alright, so not that one,” Jayce sighed, as he crossed out the rune combination in their notes, his hand pressing with just enough force to smudge the ink at the end.

“At this rate I’ll be stuck like this forever,” Viktor scoffed, raising his brows at Jayce even though he knew the man couldn’t actually see him.

“We’ll figure it out,” Jayce responded, voice gruff and harsh, “If it can shrink you it has to be able to change you back, right?”

Viktor couldn’t help the frown that tugged at his lips, “I surely hope so.”

“It will.”

And really, who was Viktor to argue when he wanted it just as much…even if the consistent failures were starting to weigh down on him.

Before he could reply with some snarky comment, Jayce’s hand was on him, fingers wrapping around his body carefully, in a way that was becoming too practiced for Viktor’s liking. His whole world shifted as Jayce picked him up like he was nothing more than a tool, and it took everything in Viktor to not snap at the man for not giving him a warning first. But at the same time, the all-encompassing warmth of his forge-worn fingers felt nice, like a sweater on a cold day- although he’d never tell him that.

When he was finally placed down onto the desk, Jayce at least had half the mind to look apologetic.

“What?” Viktor snapped, face red as his head tilted up as far as it could to get a better look at Jayce.

“I…sorry,” Jayce’s eyes widened, “It’s almost six.”

At that, Viktor paused, he had almost forgotten about what Jayce had said that morning.

“There’s a gala tonight that I can’t get out of,” Jayce had said, head tilted back against the pillows with his thumb idly rubbing up and down against Viktor’s back, his tiny form resting snuggly on his chest.

Viktor had been half-asleep, body fighting to stay conscious under the warm weight of Jayce’s hand. The only response he could manage was a small tilt of his head.

“I was hoping maybe you’d come with me,” Jayce had said, voice tilting up hopefully.

And Viktor could remember his amusement- he knew Jayce wanted to keep him nearby while he was so small. He had asked before about coming to meetings, but Viktor’s response had always been a resounding no. It was almost endearing how Jayce kept asking, regardless of Viktor’s consistent and firm refusals.

The only problem was that Viktor couldn't remember saying no this time. Maybe it was the gentle warmth of Jayce’s touch or the promise that he’d get to spend more time close to the man he was weak for, but he was sure in the early hours of morning he hadn’t told Jayce no.

“Oh yes,” Viktor said, mouth running dry, “The gala.”

“Yeah. They wouldn’t believe I was sick again,” Jayce laughed, a soft deep sound that Viktor could practically feel in his chest, “But the new suit I got has a few pockets you should be okay in.”

And how could Viktor argue when Jayce looked at him with so much hope, his eyes wide and pleading for Viktor to stay with him.

“That should be fine,” Viktor shrugged, ignoring the way his heart pounded at the idea of being so close to Jayce for so long, “Just don’t intend to stay too long. I can’t promise I won’t start biting after an hour.”

“Only an hour?” Jayce laughed.

“Perhaps I can make it longer if we get to the lab early tomorrow,” Viktor sighed.

The grin he got from Jayce, wide and crooked and showing off the gap in his teeth, almost made the whole thing worth it.

“Deal.”

And that was how Viktor had gotten himself dragged to a gala- something he had never wanted to do even before the accident. The extravagant parties Piltover’s elite held were never his thing. He hated all the schmoozing and pointless talk that came of them, and while he knew they needed money, he was more than happy to let Jayce go alone. He always was the more charming of the two of them anyways.

Viktor was tucked securely in one of the side pockets of Jayce’s suit. The silky maroon fabric was warmed by Jayce’s body heat, making the small space feel nice and comforting, and like a cat, Viktor leaned into it. He couldn’t help how he instinctively pressed himself against the sturdy warmth of his partner. It was amusing to Viktor how even in the winter Jayce still ran hot, just like the forges his family was known for. And with how cold it was outside, Viktor was more than grateful for it.

While he couldn’t see out from his spot in Jayce’s pocket, he knew they had arrived at the gala when the silence of night in Piltover morphed into a loud cacophony of sound- voices and instruments and the shuffling of people- all overwhelmingly loud to his now extra sensitive ears.

Within seconds a heavy weight pressed against him almost like Jayce knew what he was thinking, and while he couldn’t respond (and he knew Jayce would push him back if he tried to look out) he was grateful for the touch. It grounded him, stopping his thoughts from wandering too far.

It didn’t take long at all before Jayce was swept away by possible investors; Viktor could feel his deep charming voice vibrating throughout his whole body. He could tell Jayce had had a few too many glasses of champagne when his steps became more uneven, jostling Viktor around in his pocket. Still, every few minutes a hand would press into him- a gentle reminder that Jayce still remembered he was there as he chatted with Piltover’s most elite.

“Jayce, it is very good to see you in attendance again,” Counselor Medarda’s voice boomed above him- the soft lilt of her voice all too familiar.

Even the soft touches did not help with the jealousy growing in Viktor’s gut, curling and venomous like a snake about to snap its jaws.

Viktor could practically feel his skin prickle.

“Mel,” Jayce said, voice soft and happier than he had heard it in a while, “It’s good to be back. I’m sorry I haven’t been feeling well lately.”

“Well I’m sure I speak for everybody when I say we’re glad to have you back in the spotlight,” Mel replied, and Viktor could practically feel how Jayce preened at her words. “It’s far less fun at these events without the golden boy.”

Jayce chuckled, small and tight, and that made the jealous part of Viktor beam. At least he could get real laughter out of Jayce.

“I’m sure,” Jayce replied, and Viktor could imagine the tight smile on his face, “Although I can’t say I miss watching Salo falling over himself after three drinks.”

In return, Mel laughed, the sound soft like bells, and Viktor retreated into the corner of Jayce’s pocket. Maybe if he could fall asleep he could ignore their conversation and in turn stop the bubbling jealousy in his chest. As petty as it was, he wanted nothing more than to pull Jayce away. He’d gotten so used to being the center of his attention that he had almost forgotten why they had drifted apart in the first place. He didn’t realize that Jayce hadn’t laid a hand on him in a while until someone came crashing into them.

Viktor huffed, body squishing against Jayce’s side as he heard a yelp and a muttered apology from someone likely a little too drunk. Over the sounds of the orchestra picking up, Viktor could just barely make out the conversation between Jayce and whoever had bumbled into him. Ever the gentleman, he heard Jayce asking if the man needed any help finding a seat.

Viktor didn’t have any more time to ponder the situation though before he realized that something was wrong- he felt cold.

Jayce had made sure Viktor would be comfortable in his pocket beforehand, and the silk fabric combined with the man’s body heat had been more than enough for Viktor to feel alright while at the gala. But then, right across from Viktor, he saw a gap where the threads of Jayce’s suit had been torn apart- likely ripped during the ordeal with the drunkard. The cool air from the gala blew in, making Viktor curl up further into the far side of the pocket, trying his best to stay far away from the ripped seam.

Above him Jayce’s voice boomed, and with every step Viktor was shook closer and closer to the hole. Frantically, Viktor tapped at Jayce’s side, hoping to get the man’s attention, but he received no response. All he could hear was the sound of laughter and the hushed conversation between Jayce and Mel. For the first time since the incident he truly felt small.

A moment later Jayce turned, just a bit too fast, and Viktor felt himself slip, the satin hard for him to get a good grip on. For a moment he was sure he was going to throw up.

“Jayce!” He yelled, hoping more than anything that Jayce would notice, but still there was no response- his pleas drowned out by the thrum of the gala.

Viktor barely processed Mel asking for a dance, his mind completely focused on holding on tight to the smooth fabric around him. But one more quick shift from Jayce as he took Mel’s hand was all it took.

Viktor yelped, arms covering his head as he slipped through the gap in the seams. Time seemed to freeze for a moment as his body met the cool air. Like a scared child he curled in on himself, but nothing could stop the quickly approaching tile of the gala hall. Seconds before hitting the ground he squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that anyone, anything, would help him, but it was to no avail.

He hit the ground with nothing more than a soft thud to anyone listening. Pain shot through his leg, but the fire in his joints was nothing compared to the pure terror coursing through his veins. Adrenaline pumped through him as he stared up at the hundreds of people around him- all towering over him like mountain peaks- their voices loud and mangled together sounding like thunder to Viktor’s ears.

At the very least he could still see Jayce, although as one of his massive boots came down within steps of Viktor he felt his blood run cold. With each footstep, the massive people around him sent tremors into the ground making it difficult for Viktor to stay upright. Internally, he battled between wanting to stay close to Jayce- wanting nothing more than for the man to notice, pick him up, and take him back to his apartment where it was safe- and wanting to find somewhere hidden where no one would ever find him again.

But Viktor didn’t have much time to think before Mel’s shoe stamped down right next to him. The elegant wooden heel towered above him, and as she moved again he had to throw himself out of the way, rolling onto his side and causing more pain to shoot through his joints. Within moments, where he had been was covered by her shoe, and the thought of turning up on the bottom of it- nothing more than a smudge- made him feel sick.

He had to get away.

His blood pounded beneath his skin like a drum, the thump thump of his heart even louder than the musicians who were still playing regardless of the nightmare he was stuck in. It hurt, his leg felt like it was on fire from the fall, but he was alive and he planned on keeping it that way.

The familiar prick of tears stung his eyes as he took one last look up at Jayce, slightly wobbly from the alcohol and smiling wide as he talked with Mel. He wouldn’t cry though, he refused. Realistically, he knew this was happening whenever Jayce went to the galas, of course he did. He saw how the man looked at Mel. He knew he couldn’t compare even if the closeness of the past few weeks had started to convince him otherwise.

He had to go.

Viktor’s face scrunched up in pain as he trudged his way to the nearest sign of safety- the large gilded dining table near the center of the room. His eyes moved constantly darting back and forth between every single person in the room- calculating his chances of getting stomped on at any given moment. Luckily, he’d fallen where most people had decided to dance, meaning their movements were slow, predictable.

Even so, there were quite a few near misses, with him having to throw himself out of the way before finely polished boots smashed down on top of him like he was nothing more than a pest. By the time he got to the table, he was out of breath, his heart jackhammering in his chest. Even though he had really only covered what would have been a few steps at his normal size, his muscles seized like he had ran a marathon.

With a shaky breath he settled down against the leg of the table. From where he was he could still feel the tremors of every step as people passed by. The sight in and of itself was horrifying. He had gotten so used to being around Jayce that he had almost started to forget how terrifying it was to be so insignificantly small. In the first few moments, when Jayce had first found him after the incident, he’d felt horrified, and at that moment, sitting still under the table, praying that no one would notice him, he felt that same all-encompassing terror.

——————————————————————— Jayce was sure he was going to throw up, and he told Mel as such right before darting to the edge of the room. His hands checked his pockets for the tenth - hundredth - thousandth time, hoping that maybe he’d just missed him somehow, that maybe Viktor was still there. But it was to no avail, and to his own growing horror he only found a small gap in his pocket, the seams ripped apart.

Frantically, he checked his shoes to make sure nothing (or more correctly, no one) was stuck to the bottom, and even though he was sure he was getting some odd looks from the other attendees his mind could only think of one thing. He had to find Viktor.

He’d realized something was wrong after agreeing to dance with Mel. He’d felt awful for not attending a gala in so long since he knew she looked forward to him being there. Really, a dance was the least he could offer. But afterwards, when he’d reached down again to reassure Viktor that he still remembered he was there, he felt nothing, no bump in the fabric, no movement, nothing.

The horror must have been clear on his face considering how Mel immediately asked if he was alright, her concern clear from the softening of her face. But how could he be when his partner was somewhere in the gala hall on his own, small enough to be squished by one wrong step. Gods, Jayce was going to be sick.

He was sure he looked crazed to anyone passing by, eyes wide and panicked as they scanned the floor, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He could make it up to any possible investors once he was sure Viktor was safe, which he was, he had to be.

Once he was absolutely sure nothing on his shoes was his partner he took a deep breath. He had to stay calm. He recalled one night years prior when he and Viktor were working on their initial proposal for the Hexgates, only a few days before their deadline. At the time Jayce had been panicking, and the calculations he was working on were filled with mistakes. He remembered how Viktor took one look at the scrawled numbers before forcing him to sit and talk it through with him. He had told him then that nothing good came of such stress; that Jayce always worked better with a clear mind.

He struggled to keep a clear mind now.

But still, Jayce persisted. With his one goal in mind he marched back out into the thrall of people, his eyes glued to the floor for any sign of his partner. A few of the partygoers tried to stop him, to talk about Hextech or whatever new policies they wanted from the council, but with dry lips and weak words, Jayce excused himself every time. He didn’t miss how their eyes would flash with disappointment, but he could worry about that later. When he arrived back at the center of the room his search truly started. He was sure that he was around there when he’d last checked on Viktor.

“Jayce, are you sure you’re alright?”

His head whipped towards the source of the question, only to be met by Mel, her face scrutinizing and worried.

“Yes I…” Jayce struggled to find his words through his panic- his mouth felt like it was filled with cotton, “I dropped something.”

“Oh,” Mel tilted her head, amusement clear in her eyes, “Well, do you want help looking for it?”

The response he wanted to give was a yes; his immediate knee-jerk reaction was to spill everything to her. He trusted her- she could help. But the thought of what Viktor’s reaction would be to finding out someone else knew…Jayce couldn’t do it. He knew he’d been walking a thin line with Viktor for months, maybe even years, and they’d only just started to grow close again. He couldn’t risk his trust.

And that wasn’t even to mention the trouble they’d get into if anyone found out about what the Hexcore was capable of. Hextech was his connection to Viktor, he couldn’t risk that.

“No, I…I can find it,” Jayce muttered, his mouth a tight line as he waved off her offer, “Thank you.”

Mel’s brows furrowed, her eyes studying Jayce for a few moments before she gave in. He could tell she wanted to say more, to pry further, but within seconds she was being pulled away by another partygoer off into some other conversation.

Yet, as minutes passed and there was still no sign of Viktor, Jayce started to regret not taking her offer, even if Viktor would never forgive him for telling someone else about his situation. Every second without Viktor made his heart sink in his chest like lead. Time felt like a blur as he searched, frantic as he scanned the ground.

It wasn’t long before another feeling, heavy and all consuming filled his chest- guilt. Viktor hadn’t even wanted to join him at the gala; he knew that. He’d given Viktor the choice, but still, he knew Viktor only came because of him. And now Viktor was in danger…or worse…because of it.

His thoughts muddled together until they only consisted of one thing- find Viktor, find Viktor, please find Viktor.

Most attendees had already left before he finally spotted him, and the moment he did, he swore his heart stopped beating, his blood frozen in his veins. His partner’s tiny form was curled up against one of the legs of the dining table. He was still- too still for Jayce’s liking- but he was thankfully whole.

He didn’t think twice before leaning down and snatching him up in his hands. Immediately, Viktor thrashed against his hold; he’d likely been asleep, but Jayce couldn’t bring himself to feel bad when he was so simply overjoyed that Viktor was alive.

Jayce didn’t say his goodbyes before rushing to the building’s exit. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Mel watching him like a hawk, but he would worry about that later. The cold winter air hit him like a brick the moment he got outside, but the discomfort of it was barely a whisper in the back of his mind. His eyes darted around to make sure no one was nearby before he opened up his hands to really look at Viktor for the first time since he found him.

“Vik, shit, are you okay?”

In his hands, Viktor looked stunned, eyes wide and body stiff as he stared up at Jayce. His mouth opened and closed repeatedly like a fish out of water before his whole face tightened- his expression guarded.

“I… I just want to go home Jayce,” Viktor exhaled shakily, voice so quiet Jayce could barely hear it over the distant sounds of the city.

“Are you hurt? I’m so sorry I didn’t notice sooner,” Jayce panicked, voice wobbling with emotion, “I was trying to find you I promise I-”

“Jayce,” Viktor stopped him, his tone firm, “Please just…I just want to sleep.”

Jayce’s mouth flew shut as his thoughts raced. Thousands of apologies simmered behind his closed lips, but the look of defeat on Viktor’s face stopped them from boiling over.

“Yeah…yeah,” Jayce frowned, “We can go back to the apartment.”

Viktor nodded, still curled in on himself like he had been when Jayce had spotted him, and the uncomfortable silence and haunted look on his partner’s face was almost enough to finally break Jayce.

The walk back to his apartment was quiet and tense. Jayce held Viktor to his chest the entire way, uncaring of how odd it looked to anyone who could see him; he needed to feel that Viktor was okay. Unlocking his door was a challenge since his hands still shook from adrenaline, and as soon as he was inside he beelined for the bed. It frightened him how still Viktor was in his hands.

He couldn’t even bring himself to change out of his clothes as he laid down on the plush sheets, opening up his cupped hands to let Viktor out.

“I’m so so sorry,” Jayce muttered, not able to look Viktor in the eyes as he spoke, voice wet and thick with emotion.

He barely expected Viktor to respond.

“It’s not your fault,” Viktor sighed after a few awfully quiet moments, “I…thank you…for finding me.”

“I shouldn’t have lost you in the first place,” Jayce grimaced.

Viktor’s face flashed between emotions as he looked up at Jayce. He didn’t miss how Viktor leaned against his thumb, putting as little weight as possible onto his bad leg, and the thought of Viktor falling to the floor and having to navigate through all those people made Jayce feel sick.

“Don’t blame yourself,” Viktor frowned, tilting his head up to better see Jayce’s pained expression, “I don’t blame you.”

“I should’ve noticed sooner I-”

“Jayce,” Viktor practically snapped, brows furrowed in frustration, “Please, just… I am tired.”

Jayce made an expression much akin to a kicked puppy as he stared at Viktor, his eyes flickered between emotions, before he pulled his hands close to his face, Viktor along with them. He wasn’t even sure what he was doing, but the need to have Viktor close was nearly overwhelming. Gently, he pressed his nose against Viktor, allowing the warmth of his breath to ghost over the smaller man. He could feel how Viktor tensed up for a moment before relaxing against his touch.

“I’m sorry I just…I was so worried,” Jayce exhaled shakily, his lips just barely brushing against Viktor as he spoke, the action small but intimate. Viktor fell quiet in his hands, and as soon as Jayce processed how close they were he flushed with embarrassment.

Quickly, he pulled Viktor away, staring wide-eyed down at him, “I’m sorry I-”

“It’s okay,” Viktor stopped him, eyes wide and face unmistakably red.

Jayce stayed frozen still until Viktor waved to be brought close again, and Jayce couldn’t bring himself to fight it when all he wanted was to hold Viktor close after the whole gala ordeal. When Viktor was close enough again he leaned himself against the bridge of Jayce’s nose, as close to a hug as he could get. The action was slightly awkward, but before he could pull away Jayce pressed his nose back against him, pushing him even closer with his hands. His eyes scrunched tight as he let his shoulders sag and his worries be washed away by the small but comforting weight against his skin.

Again when he exhaled his lips just barely pressed against Viktor, and he couldn’t help how he wanted to stay like that forever. He could feel how Viktor tensed up from the proximity, but the smaller man didn’t tell him to stop, and Jayce was weak so he didn’t ask- too afraid bringing attention to their closeness would cause Viktor to pull away. He reasoned with himself that it was simply the comfort of his friend being close that he wanted. He just had to ignore the nagging want to press his lips fully against the man so carefully nestled in his palms.

That night he fell asleep with Viktor cradled against his chest, his thumb idly rubbing against his side as he rested. And all the while he couldn’t help but think about how nice it felt for the brief moment where his lips brushed against his partner.

[magical-reid]

A Christmas Promise

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (One or two uses of Y/N)

Perspective: Third person

Word Count: 1.6 K

Prompt #6: "You owe me a kiss"

It was Christmas Eve at the BAU, and the team was winding down after a long and exhausting case. The air in the bullpen felt warmer than usual, thanks to the twinkling lights of a Christmas tree in the corner and the soft hum of holiday music playing from a small speaker. The team had gathered for a quick, informal holiday celebration, though Spencer Reid had been unusually quiet all evening.

You couldn’t help but notice how he stood off to the side, nervously adjusting his scarf and occasionally glancing at the others, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket as if to hide some lingering uncertainty. It wasn’t like Spencer to be this distant—especially not during the holidays, when the team usually went out of their way to be a little more lighthearted.

"Hey, Reid," you called softly, stepping toward him with a small smile, "everything okay?"

Spencer blinked at you, his brown eyes wide as if startled from his thoughts. He quickly nodded, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... thinking," he mumbled, running a hand through his messy hair. His usual charm and wit seemed absent, replaced by an almost shy demeanor.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "You don’t seem fine. You sure you're not just trying to hide from the chaos?"

He chuckled nervously. "Maybe a little."

"Well," you said with a playful smile, "if you're going to stand over here all by yourself, at least join me in a drink. It’s Christmas Eve, after all."

Reid hesitated, his fingers twitching as if unsure whether to follow you. Then he seemed to make up his mind, his lips curling into a soft, almost bashful smile. "Okay, sure."

You led him to the small bar set up in the corner of the bullpen. It wasn’t much—just a few bottles of mulled wine, some sparkling cider, and a selection of cookies. It wasn’t about the drink, though; it was about being together, away from the usual chaos. You poured two glasses of mulled wine, the rich aroma of cinnamon, orange peel, and cloves filling the air as the dark red liquid swirled in your glass. Spencer accepted his with a grateful smile, and you both stood there for a moment in silence.

The room was warm, with the faint scent of pine from the Christmas tree and the sound of holiday music drifting through the air. The rest of the team was engaged in light conversation, some of them dancing to the soft tunes or exchanging gifts, but you and Spencer remained on the fringes, watching.

You took a sip of your drink and glanced sideways at him, trying to gauge his mood. He was staring at the tree, his gaze unfocused, lost in thought. There was something different about him tonight, something hesitant and vulnerable.

"Spencer, what’s going on?" you asked gently, placing your hand lightly on his arm. "You’re not your usual self. Is it the case? Or is there something else bothering you?"

Spencer shifted slightly, his face flushed with a soft pink color, his fingers curling around his glass like he was trying to ground himself. He was always the smartest person in the room, but moments like these revealed how deeply he felt things—sometimes even more intensely than anyone knew.

"I’ve just been... thinking about something," he murmured, his eyes never leaving the tree. "Something I promised I would do if... if we were still here at Christmas."

You tilted your head slightly, intrigued. "A promise? What kind of promise?"

He cleared his throat and finally looked at you, though his gaze was nervous, almost apologetic. "It’s a Christmas promise," he said quietly, his voice soft but with an underlying sense of seriousness. "One that I made a while ago, to someone very important to me."

You frowned, unsure where this was going. "What kind of promise? Spencer, what did you promise?"

Reid bit his lip, visibly anxious. "I promised that if we were still... together this Christmas, I would finally tell you how I feel. I would stop overthinking it and just... say it."

Your heart skipped a beat, your stomach fluttering. Was this really happening? Spencer—always so cautious with his emotions, always guarding his heart—was telling you this now? You suddenly felt very aware of the warmth spreading through your chest and the slight tremor in your hands.

"I—" You started, your voice shaky, but before you could process everything, Spencer continued, his eyes downcast.

"You’ve always been so patient with me, even when I’ve been... a mess." His words were gentle but weighted with the vulnerability you rarely saw from him. "And I promised that... if I could finally get it right, I would ask you for something. You... you owe me a kiss."

You blinked, staring at him as if you hadn’t heard him correctly. "I... owe you a kiss?"

He looked up at you then, his eyes wide and full of that same uncertainty you knew all too well. "You said last year, after I... after I saved you from that crazy suspect, that I owed you a kiss." His voice faltered a little, but the sincerity in his expression was clear. "Well, I think it’s time for me to cash in on that promise."

You stood frozen for a moment, your mind racing. You’d known Spencer for years—seen him in moments of brilliance, moments of awkwardness, and moments of deep introspection. But you’d never seen him so vulnerable, so open. The weight of his words and his gaze made your heart pound in your chest.

"You... you’ve wanted this for a while?" you whispered, your pulse quickening as you realized the depth of his feelings.

Spencer let out a shaky breath, his hand nervously brushing the back of his neck. "I—I know it’s a lot, and I’m not... I’m not good at this kind of thing. But, Y/N, I’ve been trying to tell you for months. I just... I wasn’t sure if you felt the same, and I didn’t want to mess things up."

You smiled softly, touched by his honesty. You reached up, gently touching his cheek, the warmth of his skin beneath your fingers sending a ripple of affection through you. "Spencer, you’ve never had to worry about messing anything up. I’ve felt the same way for a long time."

He blinked, the realization settling over him like a wave, and before he could say another word, you closed the gap between you. Your lips met his in a soft, tentative kiss, your heart racing as his warmth enveloped you. Spencer’s lips were gentle, unsure at first, but as his hands slid to your waist and pulled you a little closer, the kiss deepened, becoming more confident, more certain.

It was everything you’d dreamed of and more—the warmth of his embrace, the taste of mulled wine still lingering on his lips, the sweetness of his shy affection finally giving way to something more tangible. The world seemed to fade around you, leaving just the two of you in this quiet, magical moment.

When you finally pulled back, you couldn’t help but smile. Spencer was staring at you, his face flushed and his lips slightly parted, his eyes wide with awe. He was still a little stunned, as if he couldn’t believe what had just happened.

"Did I make good on my promise?" he asked, his voice soft and full of wonder.

You laughed softly, your fingers gently brushing his cheek. "You did, Reid. You really did."

For a long moment, neither of you said anything. The noise of the holiday celebration around you seemed far away, and all that mattered was the feeling of Spencer in front of you, this unspoken connection finally made real.

Spencer took a step back, still holding your hand, but now there was a new lightness in his eyes—something deeper than the usual spark of his genius. "So... I guess that means we’re both finally on the same page?" he asked, his voice suddenly filled with a hint of mischief.

You smiled up at him, your heart swelling. "I think so, yeah."

Then, with a more genuine, less awkward smile, he said, "I’m glad. Because there’s one more thing I’ve been thinking about."

You raised an eyebrow. "What’s that?"

He leaned in close again, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, "That dance you promised me last year, when you told me I owed you a kiss. You never followed through on that part."

You blinked, startled, and then laughed as you realized what he meant. "Well, if you insist."

Spencer’s grin spread wider, his hand slipping gently into yours. "I insist," he said softly, guiding you to the center of the room, where the team’s holiday playlist had just switched to a slow, romantic song.

And there, under the soft glow of Christmas lights and surrounded by the warmth of your friends, Spencer Reid held you close for the first time—not just as a colleague, not just as a friend—but as something more. You were no longer just observers of the magic of the holiday season; you were part of it.

In Spencer’s arms, with the music and the lights dancing around you, you realized that maybe the best Christmas gifts weren’t the ones wrapped in pretty paper. Maybe the best gifts were the ones that had been there all along—waiting for the right moment to be unwrapped.

[0vergrowngraveyard]

the end nine’s story really was an “alls well that ends well!” moment

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ how long does it take to fuck your brother's best friend? (four whole days)

synopsis. suguru comes home to visit from college at the same time you do—except he brings satoru along. this is going to be a long break

word count. 8.5k (i am tired of this tomfoolery)

contents. college! au, brother's best friend! satoru, fem! reader, minors do not interact, three-year age gap (you're both early twenties), slightly mean satoru (when you’re kids), slight enemies to lovers, jealous! satoru, mentions of reader having an ex-bf, male masturbation, satoru is taller + carries reader, cunnilingus, fingering, handjobs, unprotected sex, brief mentions of alcohol (satoru), creampie, pet names (baby + sweetheart), not proofread i could not be bothered i’m sorry

notes. this was not supposed to be this long bye i am embarrassingly down bad for the blue-eyed freak

everyone knows that where there is satoru, there is suguru—and likewise, where there is suguru, there is satoru.

they’re a bit of a packaged deal, really. satoru befriends your brother in what you think must be some twisted stroke of luck—there is no way suguru would lower his standards for some rich bastard who’s had life made for him since the day he was born. but apparently, he does, and you’re stuck with a white-haired nuisance in your house at least once a week. for years.

you’ve known satoru since he was a whiny, snot-faced, and spoiled little brat. back then, he used to call you toothless—you were six, it’s normal for children at the age of six to lose a few teeth. just because satoru is nine and has grown his teeth back doesn’t mean he escaped the toothless phase himself—but satoru is just a jerk like that, pushes your buttons, and calls out your insecurities to get a good laugh.

you don’t smile with your mouth open even once around him that summer, not until suguru assures you that regardless of how many teeth you have, you have a lovely smile.

when you’re twelve, puberty does its thing, and now you’re stuck with acne-prone skin—also a normal occurrence for people your age, but satoru makes sure to point out the giant pimple on your forehead every time he sees you. you make sure to let him know his haircut is as awful as his sense of style, and suguru tries his best not to choke himself with his charger as you both bicker.

satoru is gone that entire summer for a family cruise that you’re sure costs double your house—he comes back frighteningly taller than you remember him within the span of just a few weeks.

it’s been like that since you were kids. he comes over, finds a new thing to pick on through his smug grins and smooth chuckles, and you fume as you bite back with just as snarky rebuttals. he makes sure to never cross the line of going too far—it’s more for suguru’s sake, you’re fairly sure—but stays right on the dot of getting just under your skin.

he’s annoying. a jerk. a rich snob. a privileged dickhead. he’s rude and disrespectful, with no tact, let alone any semblance of respect. you don’t understand what could possibly make suguru want to hang around such a douchebag, but suguru cares about satoru—and satoru has always been there for your brother.

you don’t understand it, but you respect it. as long as he doesn’t wet your entire bathroom sink and mirror in the mornings after he stays over, you suppose you can coexist.

but you haven’t seen him in ages—not outside of suguru’s instagram stories and posts. it’s been a long few years since the two of them have left for college, and by the time you leave too, life has its funny way of working, and, well…you don’t bump into him anymore. it doesn’t occur to you that satoru is not the same guy you used to know until you come back home to visit after your second year of college.

“suguru,” you call, “i borrowed your hoodie. but you can have it back—”

you cut yourself off when you open the door to your brother’s room, and lo and behold, stands a very shirtless gojo satoru, the white-haired and blue-eyed asshole you’ve had to deal with since childhood. except he’s way taller than you remember him—just how much does this guy grow, exactly? his shoulders are broader and….and since when did he have abs? there’s a small tattoo just under his collarbone—when did he even get that? his hair is also longer, just enough to fall over his forehead and curtain those striking blue eyes of his.

he looks…well, handsome. very handsome, in fact. dangerously handsome that it catches you by surprise as you blink.

he’s still shirtless, holding his t-shirt in his hands as he grins.

“hey, toothless,” he greets, voice deeper than the last time you heard it—but it still sounds relatively the same. you think you’d always recognize satoru’s voice, whether you’d like to or not. and, of course, he just has to still use that ridiculous nickname after all these years. “long time no see.”

“i have all my teeth now—i have for a long time, y’know. and put a shirt on, you freak,” you huff, rolling your eyes, “where’s suguru?”

“what, you don’t enjoy the view?” he motions at his bare torso, like the shameless bastard he is, “most girls love this view—”

“and yet, you’re still single,” you cut him off, staring at him pointedly.

he grins impossibly wider, tugging his shirt over his body swiftly—you have to exercise all ounces of control not to gulp as you watch his biceps flex.

“keepin’ track of my love life?” he wiggles his brows, “i know older men can be appealing but have a little class. your poor brother would lose his shit if you went after his best friend—”

“satoru,” you sigh, pinching your nose, “do you age backward or something? how are you still this obnoxious after so long?”

“i practice in the mirror,” he winks, “it’s my charm.”

“that’s hardly charming,” you roll your eyes, “anyway, whenever suguru comes back, let him know i left his hoodie, yeah?”

“sure,” he chuckles.

and then you close the door as you leave—right before you stop, pause, and open it up again as you’re sticking your head back in when you make a shocking realization.

“wait, how long are you here for?” you ask, eyes wide.

he has the audacity to look smug as he taps his chin and pretends to think—“oh, y’know. just the rest of break. my old man took my mom on some trip, so i’m killing time here,” he shrugs.

great. lovely. wonderful. just what you needed.

you wish he’d drop dead—maybe suguru will finally be forced to go outside of his one-man circle and actually befriend some respectable people.

“you can’t just stay at your place?” you hiss, “it’s certainly big enough.”

“well, why be lonely in an empty home when we can have fun here?” he hums, “consider yourself lucky—you get to be housemates with me for a—”

“keep to yourself,” you warn, cutting him off again through narrowed eyes and a dangerous glare—satoru only looks more amused, raising his hands up in surrender.

with that, you turn again and almost shut the door when he calls for you—“hey, toothless,” he says lowly, making you pause before turning to him with a raised brow. he smiles—it’s so unlike that usual smirk of his…somehow this one is a bit gentler as he murmurs, “you look good. grew up well, y’know.”

you blink. you’re not ready for that…didn’t expect a compliment from gojo satoru himself—especially not after all this time of throwing mediocre insults your way.

you decide he must be messing with you, so you purse your lips as you click your teeth in irritation. “yeah, sure,” you say dryly.

you can hear his chuckles as you close the door again—this is going to be a long break.

—————

just as expected, the house is simply not big enough for you and satoru.

the first time you run into him happens to be first thing after waking up—you’re walking up to the door just as he twists the knob and opens it, walking out shirtless. again.

this time, however, he’s got beads of water rolling down his skin from his shower, right between his pecs, as a towel hangs around his shoulders. you can see his tattoo from up close now, a small infinity sign right under his collarbone that contrasts against his pale skin.

how tacky, you think—just as you’d expect, even his choice of tattoos is questionable.

his hair is wet—it’s sticking to his forehead instead of the multiple directions it usually scatters around in that messy way it always does. you’ve only felt satoru’s hair once—when you were fifteen, and you’d hit him in the back of the head as you walked past him at the breakfast table. he’d made a jab at your dark circles. tests were around the corner, and unlike satoru, your grades actually mattered. you didn’t expect his hair to be so soft, but it is, and you almost itch to twirl the strands around your fingers for a quick feel.

instead, you scowl and stomp off to your room as soon as your dishes are washed.

his hair is probably just as soft now—maybe even softer now that he actually probably cares to look after it. you’ve heard suguru grumble about using two-in-one shampoo too many times when he comes back from spending the night at satoru’s. for a second, your fingers twitch to reach up and brush through a few strands on his forehead—just to feel them because they look soft. nothing else.

the urge is quickly killed as soon as he opens his mouth, however.

“oh, hey there, roomie,” he grins, “you’re really doing all you can to catch me half naked, huh?”

“don’t flatter yourself,” you grumble.

“i’m just sayin’,” he chuckles, “that’s twice now. if you ask nicely, i might walk around like this just for you.”

it’s way too early for this.

by early, it’s actually late noon. now that finals aren’t killing your free time, you stay up until ungodly hours to catch up with your social life—and it doesn’t help that you can hear satoru and suguru stay up playing video games the next room over, either. suguru is probably still sleeping.

that’s a bit of a shocker, in fact—usually, it’s satoru that has to be dragged out of your brother’s room to have breakfast (or brunch, really) before the kitchen is cleared up. why satoru is up first is beyond you.

maybe it’s just a cruel way for the universe to enjoy watching more of your veins pop.

“does that apply to asking you to leave? because then i suppose i can ask rather politely.”

he grins, eyes sparkling with amusement as he shoots you that smile with those pearly whites that irritate you to no end. you’re not sure why, but something about his smile looks so much different nowadays—something about it just seems so….mature.

that’s a word you didn’t think you’d ever use to describe satoru.

“mm, not quite,” he hums, “you’re still stuck with me.”

“whatever,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. “move, i want to shower before suguru wakes up.”

“you have time,” he steps to the side, letting you enter the bathroom, “he’s probably not waking up anytime soon—woah.”

satoru’s shirt is on the floor—why, you may ask? because he’s an annoying idiot who doesn’t have to clean up after himself when people have always been around to do it for him. he never has to care to aim and toss his clothes into the hamper because the maids will pick up after him anyway. old habits die hard, you suppose—you’ve listened to suguru complain about satoru’s messiness not improving even after being his roommate for the last few years. it’s never been your problem, but you don’t appreciate it now that you’re slipping over the fabric on the tiled floor, falling backwards with a squeal.

but satoru’s quick—he catches you with those strong arms of his and wraps them tightly around you, keeping you securely in place as he steadies you against his chest.

his bare chest, in fact.

you can feel the slight dampness seeping into your shirt, and you can feel his hot breath on your neck as he exhales in relief once he makes sure you’re safe. you almost shiver—almost, but you manage to scrape together enough self-control to stay painfully still in his grasp.

“you okay?” he murmurs gently, voice a low whisper against your skin. there’s no bite to his words. no amusement or teasing or even smugness. it’s genuine, the way he checks on you.

this is…new. very, very new.

“yeah,” you breathe, letting out a sharp breath. and then—“maybe keep your clothes in the fucking hamper next time, though.”

“sorry,” the smile in his voice is almost audible—you can’t see it from where you are, but you can hear it in his voice. you roll your eyes, and satoru makes no move to loosen his arms around you. for some reason, you don’t move.

you’re not sure why, but you just don’t.

“you’re still just as messy, huh?” you roll your eyes—he laughs, and it’s a smooth, boyish chuckle that almost makes you wonder for a moment if this is why girls seem to love satoru so much despite his god-awful personality.

it’s a pretty beautiful sound—you hate that you have to admit that to yourself.

“yeah,” he admits, “it drives suguru nuts.”

“yeah, i can’t imagine why,” you snort. it’s like that for a moment—satoru’s muscled arms around you and hard chest pressed against your back. finally, you clear your throat. “you can let go now, you know.”

“right,” he mumbles, slowly pulling away—and when you turn to face him….is that disappointment? on his face? you don’t get a chance to be sure because then he’s bending down to pick up his shirt before he’s standing—he’s already wiped the expression from his features completely by then. “sorry about that, toothless. i’ll keep my shirts off the floor next time.”

“that would be so kind of you,” you smile sarcastically.

and then you shut the door in his face and exhale as you lean against the wall.

this is going to be a longer break than you thought.

—————

the next time you run into him, it’s late at night. everyone is asleep—even your brother and his headache of a best friend, if the silence tells you anything. you can’t sleep, though, so you make your way to the kitchen to hunt for snacks. you’re skimming through the pantry before your eyes land on a surprise—a box of strawberry pocky sits nice and enticingly, right there for you to open and devour.

you grin, reaching over when—

“those are mine,” satoru calls, stepping into the kitchen, “brought them over myself. you should ask before touching people’s things.”

“you literally ate my leftovers the other night,” you say incredulously.

“those were yours? i thought they were suguru’s.” he raises a brow in surprise, making you click your teeth in irritation.

“the principle of asking still applies,” you purse your lips. and then defiantly, you open the box and grab a pack right before his eyes.

he scowls—but you know he doesn’t actually mind because he waits for you to finish grabbing yours before taking the box and grabbing his own pack and a coke from the fridge. you both take a seat at the kitchen table, across from each other, as you open the packaging and silently eat your newfound snack.

it’s satoru who breaks the silence first.

“do you still throw away the ends of these?”

you huff indignantly, not meeting his eyes as you take a bite off the strawberry-covered end, stopping at just where the cookie portion is uncoated. “yes. i’m eating these for the coating—not the bland biscuit part.”

“what’re you, five?” he snickers, earning a glare from you. defiantly, you pop the end of the pocky stick into your mouth just to prove a point—and then the look of distaste makes him cackle louder. 

“shut up,” you hiss, “you talk too much.”

“the ladies love it when i do,” he bats his lashes—you stare at him blankly, unimpressed.

“yeah, as if.”

“hey, my ex-girlfriend totally did,” he defends.

ex-girlfriend? that’s a bit of a shocker—you didn’t know satoru dated anyone in the last few years, you haven’t seen or heard anything of it through suguru’s end. in all realness, you didn’t even think satoru was the boyfriend type…but then again, he’s not really the anything type. he just kind of exists to take up space and be the bane of your existence. 

“i hope the poor girl is recovering well after dating you,” you shake your head, feigning a concerned look on your face that makes him roll his eyes—they’re still disturbingly bright even in the dark kitchen, dimly lit by the slightest bit of moonlight pouring in through the small window.

“i dated her freshman and sophomore year,” he says casually. you also didn’t expect that—that it lasted that long. something about satoru doesn’t strike you as the long-term relationship kind of guy. something about him doesn’t seem like the relationship kind of guy at all. not because he’s the type to mess around casually, but because he seems the type to seem disinterested all around—he’s snobby like that. “she was…alright, i guess.”

yeah. very snobby.

“you are such a sick bastard,” you spit.

he snorts, taking a bite of his pocky as he shakes his head in amusement. you’re as feisty as ever—it’s always fun riling you up, even if unintentionally.

“hey, it’s not like she was bad. she was just…well, she wasn’t interested in me like that either,” he shrugs, “i think it was just the sex. it was good, can’t lie there.”

“you’re so gross,” you roll your eyes, “have some decorum.”

“what, you’re still sixteen?” he raises a brow, lips curling into a smirk as he reaches for another pocky, “can’t say the word s-e-x?”

“i don’t broadcast my sexual activities out in the open,” you shrug.

satoru chuckles, taking a bite that more or less finishes the entire stick in one go before he presses a finger to his lips, “shh. don’t say that too loud—suguru will come chase you from his room if he hears.”

“suguru,” you groan, “he’s such a pain to have around sometimes. y’know i dated this one guy last year. i think suguru might’ve paid him to dump me.”

“i know. he definitely thought about it,” satoru hums, “he used to go off about it all the time. he was right, though—that guy was a total prick.”

something about you is mildly shocked that satoru knows about your private life—sure, it’s not outrageous or even the slightest bit unlikely that suguru mentions you. satoru and suguru are best friends, and you happen to be suguru’s sister—of course, suguru is bound to mention you here and there. it’s just the fact that satoru even pays attention to anything to do with you that surprises you—although you suppose it would be a good way for him to find his next source to push your buttons.

“i’m not surprised you think he’s a prick,” you nod, “it takes one to know one, after all.”

“oh yeah?” he snorts, waving you off, “i do, in fact remember anniversaries, y’know.”

“okay,” you sigh, defeated—your ex-boyfriend is admittedly not at the top of the list of your brightest choices. not even up halfway on the list. in fact, he’s so low on the list of good choices you’ve made, that willingly choosing to interact with satoru feels like an exceptional decision in comparison. and that’s saying something. “he was pretty bad. but he was really hot. when a guy looks like that, his values are the least of my worries.”

it’s a joke—you’re sure he knows that. but satoru takes a long sip from his coke, silent for a moment. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so serious, especially so suddenly.

“he can’t be that hot,” he mutters.

“oh he was really hot. probably the hottest guy i’ve ever talked to—” satoru bites his pocky a bit aggressively at that, “and he was so tall. maybe taller than you—how tall are you again? anyway, he was pretty enough to overlook his shortcomings.”

“he’s probably not taller than me,” he grumbles, frowning. you snort—men and their fragile little egos, you think in amusement.

“he was,” you tease, “he was so tall, i’d let him do whatever he wanted.”

“that’s a terrible way to look at it,” he scrunches his brows, “you shouldn’t let some guy walk all over you because he’s tall and his face is a bit easy on the eyes—”

“i know you’re not talking—”

“i’m serious,” he cuts you off. something about him reminds you of suguru for a moment—like he cares who you’re with because he has a reason to. as if you mean something to him, as if knowing someone who doesn’t deserve you has you in their palms is upsetting.

but then you shake the thought out of your head—satoru doesn’t care. he’s never had a reason to, and you don’t exactly plan to give him one, either.

“okay, dad,” you roll your eyes, “i learned my lesson. i have standards now.”

“good,” he nods—and then, as if to keep himself in character, he adds, “because i don’t want to help suguru kill someone, and it’s over something lame like forgetting his little sister’s anniversary. i’d like to go to jail for something more badass.”

“you and badass don’t belong in the same sentence,” you raise a brow. “let’s be realistic.”

“oh yeah? that’s rich coming from—”

“guys, it is five in the morning,” suguru grumbles, throwing a water bottle at satoru’s head. you glance at the kitchen entrance, eyeing a half-asleep and very irritable suguru as he crosses his arms, “can’t you idiots fight over who’s more of a loser at reasonable hours? some of us like to sleep.”

“want one?” you offer your pack of pocky, holding it out to him.

suguru blinks, contemplating for a second before sighing and trudging over.

“yeah,” he mutters, flicking your forehead. “gimme that.”

you watch woefully as suguru takes the entirety of your pack, swiftly sitting next to satoru and leaving you empty-handed. satoru snickers obnoxiously at the deflated look on your face—and then he holds out his pack to you.

you look between him and the pack for a moment before giving him a genuine smile. it’s a rare sight—he drinks it in as you carefully take one and bicker over something with suguru.

you’re pretty when you smile, he thinks—pretty enough that if you had horrible values (which you don’t), he might feel inclined to understand your (awful) reasoning for a moment.

and then he blinks and shakes the thoughts out of his head—it’s going to be a long break.

—————

satoru meets you when you’re six. 

he’s nine at the time, and he feels on top of the world knowing he’s three whole years older than you—in hindsight, three years is not a very large gap, but to nine-year-old him, it feels like centuries. he’s remembered you as the fun little drama queen that’s too easy to poke fun at for years—that’s all you’ve always been: suguru’s younger sister who puffs her cheeks out and scowls way too often to be normal, the girl that’s way too easy to tease than should be standard. 

somehow, he wasn’t expecting for you to come back so grown…and so hot. suddenly, it really hits him that you’re not a kid—have not really been for a long time now. he’s always treated you like you’re way younger than he is, way too little to be in his presence and be worthy of it—but you’ve really become a fine young woman.

a magnetizing one, in fact.

it’s now his third night at your house—your parents are as lovely and welcoming as ever, and suguru is always a good time to be around. but somehow, satoru is not satisfied. not anywhere near sated by the few, minimal moments of contact with you. 

when did you get so pretty? although, as much as satoru has always liked to poke fun at you, you’ve never been ugly. not even a little—but you’ve grown into your features better, outgrown the awkward teenage era of your life, and now present yourself with a newfound confidence that just looks…so good. satoru doesn’t see his best friend's kid sister anymore—no, there’s something so alluring about you now.

the nail on the coffin that solidifies he’s officially screwed is when you mention your ex-boyfriend—why would your dating life make him this irrationally angry? why is the thought of someone being on the receiving end of your praise (and shameless heart-eyes) so aggravating for him? 

he doesn’t know—but what he does know is that the raging boner has been killing him all morning ever since he woke up from…well, less than proper dreams about you.

so now he’s here, forehead pressed against your shower wall as the hot water hits his back, swollen cock in his fist as he thumbs at the tip, teasing the slit just the way he likes. he thinks about you—how he’d show you what makes him feel good, how you’d probably learn fast and take care of him just the way he needs. 

your hand would look so much daintier compared to his—smaller, but he’s sure it would still feel infinitely better. 

he bites his lip, fighting back a moan as he strokes himself slowly, pre cum smeared along the length of his hard, aching cock—red and angry at the tip, leaking with more pre cum no matter how many times his thumb collects every drop. 

“f-fuck—” he breathes, and his voice lets out a shaky, breathy little call of your name—he’s screwed if anyone hears it. he’s sure you and suguru will both band together to kill him, but thankfully, the words are lost in the sound of the shower running. “fuck baby,” he says hoarsely, voice cracking ever so slightly as he whines. 

it’s soft and quiet, the noises he makes—careful and deliberately hushed to make sure no one hears the improper way he’s thinking of you right now. but fuck, your tits are so pretty when you walk out of your room in a t-shirt in the mornings—he can just tell you’re not wearing a bra. he can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop trying to picture what they’d look like uncovered and bouncing.

“jus’ like that, baby,” he pants, whimpering softly as he squeezes around his tip, teasing himself with that slow, painful pace of his. 

satoru is sure that if it were you, that if the hand stroking his cock right now was yours, you would never let him cum so easily—you’d drag it out just like this, pump him slowly and twist your hand around him in a pace that’s painfully not enough before ever thinking about letting him come undone. 

it’s just the way that you are—never ready to back down from a challenge, unwilling to go down without a fight. but he loves it, he thinks—lives for the way you keep him on his toes and work for the satisfaction. 

“more,” he gasps, “n-need more—gimme more, sweetheart.”

he imagines it—the way you’d kiss his jaw, maybe even the corner of his mouth, as you hum. say please, toru, you’d probably say—and fuck, he’d kill to hear you say toru. 

“please,” he rasps, “please, baby. d-don’t tease.”

he can practically hear your light giggles, the sweet, okay, baby. no more teasing, that you might whisper. he’d also kill to hear you call him baby—he’s almost nauseous at the idea that some other guy must’ve heard the pet name from your lips before him. and then he lets himself pump his erection faster, squeezing tighter as his thighs quiver while he stands in the shower. 

fuck—you feel so good. you’re not even here, but he’s sure you do, and he’s desperate to envision it. it practically hurts—the way he’s so hard and swollen and ready to release. just for you, he wants to tell you, he’s going to cum all for you. 

“baby,” he whimpers, “‘m so, so close—fuck ‘m gonna cum. ‘s for you—gonna cum for you—ngh, sh-shit.”

and then there’s cum on the tile walls, on his hands, on his abs as they flex with every labored breath. satoru cums—hard. his eyes are squeezed shut, lips parted with a silent cry as he pants and strokes himself through his high. you’d kiss him, he likes to think, on his jaw and cheeks and maybe the tip of his nose as you sit on his lap and work him through his orgasm. you’d watch him closely, take in the way he comes undone for you, maybe even call him your pretty boy as he paints your hand white with his seed.

would you praise him? murmur softly into his ear and seal the gentle words with a kiss to his skin? would you stroke his hair from his face as you admire his blissful, fucked out little expression? maybe he’d ask you then—maybe he’d ask you to admit he’s way more handsome than that douchebag you dated as your hand holds his softening cock, sticky with his release.

god, what he wouldn’t do to see your hands coated with his cum—did you do this for your ex? did he look as hot as you claim he was when he came for you? the thought makes him sour—he grits his teeth and clenches his jaw at the idea, panting and catching his breath as he stares down at the mess he’s made.

he should feel bad—this is wrong. so, so wrong—suguru would kill him if he was aware satoru was lusting over his little sister. but it felt so fucking good—he’s never cum as hard as when he’s pictured cumming for you. 

it can’t be that wrong, if that’s the case—can it?

——

“suguru,” your voice is shrill, deadly—like you’re out for blood. “next time you jack off in the shower, maybe clean the fucking wall? are you joking?”

“wha—i definitely cleaned that,” suguru defends. 

oh, fuck, satoru thinks—he forgot to clean that. so he makes himself very scarce and stays within the confinements of suguru’s bedroom—his messy habits are starting to really catch up to him. if his defense, he really would clean that up…it’s just that he was a bit distracted. 

“so you admit you jack off in our shower? our shower?” you sound inconsolable, downright devastated, and borderline hysterical. having siblings seems like a lot of trouble, he thinks—but then again, sometimes satoru is jealous of your bond with suguru. it’d be nice to have someone in his family he can actually depend on. “keep that shit for your bedroom, you jackass!”

“well, how am i supposed to do that when satoru is there? you tell me.”

“i don’t know! figure it the fuck out—you guys probably jack off together anyway.”

“what?” suguru sounds appalled, “we do not—that’s outrageous.”

“whatever,” you say—you sound almost murderous as you warn, “next time you better clean up your fucking mess, you asshole.”

satoru can’t help but smile a little—your pointer finger is definitely held up as you scold suguru—you’re so cute when you’re mad, he thinks. he almost wants to step out and catch a glimpse, but he decides against it for now.

silently, satoru thanks his best friend for taking one for the team—even if it was unknowingly.

—————

it’s night four. 

satoru has surprisingly kept to himself—he even promptly looked away after meeting your eyes in the kitchen yesterday morning as you walked in for breakfast. that’s…new. a lot about satoru is new. 

he’s taller and more muscular now—at one point, suguru used to tower over his scrawny little form. now he’s seemed to grow into his body, seemed to learn how to style himself better, and actually do his hair a bit. it’s still messy now that he’s just lazing around in your home—but it’s oddly handsome. 

scarily handsome, in fact. 

you don’t enjoy the idea of thinking about the jerk of your childhood like that—but ever since you felt the hard press of his chest against your back, sometimes you wonder what it’s like to know satoru outside of just your older brother’s obnoxious friend. 

maybe, somewhere along the line, had you put your pride aside and actually tried to get to know him, maybe you both could at least be friendly. but then again, there’s never been any real animosity between you two—you can share a lighthearted talk from time to time, like that night in the kitchen. 

you decide not to dwell on it too much, decide that he’s not really worth your thoughts when he’s just a guy who’s always been a bit too spoiled to learn how to be humble. instead, you go down to the kitchen to grab another pack of strawberry pocky—satoru will just have to deal with it. if he doesn’t want his snacks eaten, he shouldn’t keep them in the pantry where anyone could stumble across them.

you walk into the kitchen until—oh. it’s satoru. again.

“oh, hey,” he grins cheekily, taking a sip of his coke—he needs to break the habit of having so much sugar this late at night…but then again, why would it matter to you? “stalkin’ me?”

“for an unwelcomed guest, you sure do talk a lot,” you roll your eyes, making his lips curl into a smug little smirk. 

“i don’t know—your parents seem to love having me over. what if i become their newest son?”

“i doubt my parents are looking to adopt you,” you raise a brow, slightly amused. 

he hums, sipping his coke before blinking at you through those long, perfect lashes of his. “well, there are other ways to blend into a family. marriage, for example, is a great way.”

“you and my brother might as well marry each other,” you snort, “no one else will do it.”

“who said anything about suguru?” he winks, chuckling when your face twists into an exaggerated look of horror—always as dramatic as ever, you are. he can’t help but find an endearing side to it now.

satoru stands, walks over to where you are and stands in front of you as you scoff, shaking your head as you huff out a disbelieving chuckle. 

“that’s pushing it,” you muse, “marrying you would be the last open option i’d have left—and even then i doubt i’d ever take it.”

“yeah?” he raises a brow, leaning in so close, you can practically feel his breath fan over you. he smells like expensive cologne and your shampoo—why is he using yours instead of suguru’s? before you can even ask him what he’s doing, he throws away the empty can of coke in the trash can behind you, eyes bright with amusement as your breath hitches.

it’s like he knows—the fucking asshole.

“yeah,” you breathe, “you don’t deserve me,” you try to say matter-of-factly. it comes off a bit more breathless than you intended—the air feels suffocating. maybe because satoru is so close, maybe because his breath is on your face, maybe because all you can smell and feel and hear is him. 

you can’t find it in yourself to pull away—why aren’t you pulling away? it’s just like that day he caught you, when his arms wrapped around you and all you felt like doing was lean into his chest. what about satoru and you has shifted so quickly to make you want to do that? what makes him so easy to fall into when all you’ve always known was to shove at him?

he hums, leaning in closer and closer until his forehead touches yours. “you know who didn’t deserve you?” he asks, “that shitty ex of yours.”

you look up at him with wide eyes, speechless as his hands find purchase of your hips, grabbing them and pulling you closer—and against better judgment, your hands lay themselves across his chest. it’s as firm as you remember it. 

“how would you know—”

“heard suguru rant about it all the time,” he murmurs, “how he forgot your dates. got you a shitty birthday present. didn’t show up to your anniversary. made you hang out with his friends and didn’t even meet half of yours. you’re tellin’ me he deserves you more than me?”

“he was hot—”

“yeah? and i’m not?”

he’s cocky—you hate that about him. always did. but he’s so close, so intoxicating, so irresistible, and fuck, he is hot—so incredibly hot, you’ve been losing sleep over it the last four nights no matter how hard you try to deny it. 

“satoru, what are you—”

“y’know, i’ve been helping suguru pick your birthday presents since you were twelve. i’d pick you the best gifts,” his nose is brushing against yours now, lips just millimeters away from his as he speaks—“and i never forget an important date. i’m very punctual too, believe it or not. i’d meet your little friends—show ‘em what a catch i am when you introduce me.”

“and what am i supposed to do with this information?” you ask defiantly.

it’s a last-ditch effort—you both know this. you know exactly what he wants you to do with this information. 

“i don’t know, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “what do you think?”

and then you’re kissing him—because fuck, satoru is right there, and how could you not? his chest is under your palms, his lips are right against yours, and you can feel his thumb rub circles into your hips. 

so you kiss him—loop your arms around his neck and tug him closer and press your lips to his. he groans, responds almost instantly as his mouth molds against yours, kissing you deeper as his hand moves to cup your cheek.

your lips are softer than he thought, and his hair is silky against your fingers. you tug at the strands, grab a handful, and feel them against your fingers like you’ve wanted to for so long. and when he nips at your bottom lip, who are you to deny him? your lips part, letting his tongue slide in and taste you with a breathy sigh that makes your knees wobble. 

“s-satoru,” you stutter, whispering between kisses, “suguru might come in like last time—”

“god,” he groans, head burying into your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against the skin, “don’t fucking talk about your brother right now. please.”

“my room,” you say urgently—it’s all he needs to hear before his hands are on your ass, grabbing you as you wrap your legs around his hips. it’s urgent, the way his mouth is back on yours—he doesn’t pull away even once the entire walk to your room, not even when he lets your back fall onto the mattress as he hovers over you, pressing kisses along your collarbone. 

no bra, he notes happily, his hand sneaking under your shirt to toy with your pert nipples. 

“god, you’ve been driving me fuckin’ crazy,” he mumbles, tugging the hem of your shirt over your arms and tossing it over his shoulder. he stares, takes in the sight of the same tits he’s been fantasizing over for the last few days in awe. “you know that? been thinkin’ about these for days,” he says lowly, cupping your tit and massaging as he presses a kiss to your jaw. 

“you’re shameless,” you mutter, snorting before you cut yourself off with a gasp as he squeezes your nipple, pinching and rolling it between his fingers and pulling a soft whine from you.

“shhh,” he chuckles, tilting his head toward the wall next to you, “don’t want suguru to hear, do you? that wouldn’t be nice, would it?”

“it’ll be worse for you than me,” you grin, tugging at the hem of his own shirt, indicating you want it off. he grins widely, wiggling his brows and making you purse your lips.

“wanna see me shirtless again, huh? third times the charm, as they say,” he winks. you would retort with something as witty, but then your eyes fall on that tattoo again—right under his collarbone, making your hand reach out to trace it with your thumb. 

“what compelled you to get this corny little tattoo of yours,” you grin, giggling as you trace over the small infinity sign. 

for the first time, you think you witness satoru shy, blushing as he rubs the back of his neck and chuckles awkwardly. “that…that was an accident. when i got drunk for the first time.”

“oh,” you snort, “you’re so weak, satoru—”

“do me a favor, sweetheart,” he hums, cutting you off, “as much as i love when you say my name, say toru for me, yeah? i wanna hear it.”

you roll your eyes, huffing as your hand finds the back of his head and pulls him into another kiss, moaning into his mouth as he grinds the throbbing erection in his sweats over your heated core. 

“toru,” you say breathlessly, “more.”

that’s all he needs to hear—satoru doesn’t waste a second before he’s crawling between your legs, sliding your cute little pajama pants down your legs before meeting your dripping pussy.

it’s wet—so wet, he almost wants to chuckle and tease you a bit. just for old-time's sake. but the ache that shoots down to his cock reminds him that he’s in no position to tease you when he’s not faring any better himself. so he spreads your legs, kisses lightly at your clit in a feather-like touch that has you whimpering and clutching the sheets in anticipation.

“how pretty,” he mumbles, “been hiding this pretty little thing all this time. what a perfect pussy.”

“satoru,” you gasp in embarrassment, hands reaching for his hair and tugging him closer to where you need him most—equal parts because you really need his mouth on your cunt and equal parts because you really need him to shut up. 

but he chuckles, takes his time to spread your folds open with his thumbs, and watches in wonder as you flutter around nothing, arousal dripping and leaving a mess. it’s perfect—you’re perfect, and he wants to take his time with you. 

“god, you’re soaked,” he groans, chuckling as he murmurs, “that’s fuckin’ cute.”

before you can even whine at the way his words are shameless, his mouth is back to kissing your clit, lips wrapping around it as he sucks and rolls his tongue along the sensitive bud. his fingers sink deep into you, pushing past your folds and slowly bullying into you until the tips of his fingers curl and brush against a spot that makes you squeal. 

you gasp a breathy, “fuck, toru—” before he hums around your clit, vibrations making you whimper as he thrusts his fingers back in to hit that spot again. it’s sensitive, the way he makes you feel—your nerves are on fire, and your head is light, and fuck, it feels so good you can’t help but sob brokenly and squeeze your thighs around his head. he moans against your cunt, pulling his fingers out before letting his tongue lick a stripe along your slit, tasting you with a sharp inhale. 

“f-feels good,” you whimper, biting your lip as your eyes crinkle at the corners from squeezing shut.

“yeah?” he hums, kissing your inner thigh, leaving a wet little sheen of his spit and your arousal on the skin, “that’s a good girl—just keep telling me how good i make you feel, kay?”

he could stay buried nose-deep into your pussy for as long as you let him—tongue alternating between fucking into you and rolling over your swollen clit, hearing the broken little gasps and whines of his name as you repeat toru over and over again like a prayer. his hand grips at your thigh, sinking his fingertips into the plush skin and rubbing soothingly with his thumb as you rut your hips and grind against his face. 

satoru has half a mind to watch it again—to lick and suck at your core again and again just so he could burn into his mind what you look like when you cum. it’s divine—like he’s halfway to stepping into heaven and has to pause just to admire the sight before him. 

your hips leave the mattress as your back arches, and your fingers tug relentlessly at his roots as your walls quiver, letting satoru taste every drop of your release as you press a palm to your hand and try to keep yourself from squealing at the pleasure.

suguru is right next door. you can’t wake him—can’t let him know this is what you and his best friend get up to in the late hours of the night. 

it’s not until satoru pulls away, catching his breath as he wipes the wet trail on his chin does he realize how hard he is—how badly he’s aching as his cock strains against his sweats. he hisses as he frees himself; ridding his sweats and boxers and wrapping a large hand around the tip of his erection and smearing the leaking pre cum along his length. 

you watch in awe, reaching over and replacing his hand with yours. satoru was right—your hand is infinitely smaller than his, and yet, it feels a great deal better. so much better, in fact, that his arms shake as he hovers over you, burying his head into your neck and groaning as you slowly stroke him, squeezing at the tip and rolling your thumb through the slit.

he didn’t even have to show you what he wanted, what makes him feel good, what makes his mind fog with pleasure and burn through every nerve. no, you figure it all out on your own, pulling strangled moans and hushed gasps from him that make your clit ache once more. 

“fuck, baby,” he pants, “can’t last long like this—c’mon, g-gotta feel you.” gently, he pries your hand from his thick, pulsing cock, laying it against your stomach as he peers down in fascination. “i’ll be right here,” he hums, drawing a line on your skin right where his tip ends, “see that? that’s where you’ll feel me, sweetheart.”

“then let me feel you,” you murmur, cupping his cheeks and brushing a thumb over the skin, “fuck me, toru—wan’ it so bad.”

so he does—drags his tip along your folds and collects the slick pooling at your entrance before pushing his tip past your folds, splitting you in half as he slowly buries himself to the hilt. his jaw is clenched, breath labored as he waits for you to adjust, lets you kiss his cheeks and nose as you murmur how handsome he is, how perfect he feels, how good is to you. 

“that asshole ever make you cum?” he asks lowly, “he ever eat your pussy like that? make you cum hard enough you had to cover your mouth so you’re not screaming his name?”

“no,” you breathe, quivering as his thumb rolls over your clit in slow circles, still painfully still as he stares down at you, “n-no, never. just you—only you—”

“good,” he grins, “that’s what i like to hear. and when i make you cum on my cock, make sure to tell me he’s never done that either, yeah?”

“you’re full of it,” you scoff, “always have been.”

“and you’re full of me,” he says cheekily, chuckling as you glare half-heartedly. “can i move, baby? please? need more, ‘s not enough. n-need more—”

“yeah,” you whimper, pulling him closer, chests brushing against each other as your lips meet in a sloppy kiss, “yeah—need more too, toru.”

satoru, in all his years of knowing you, has never seen the side of you that could be this gentle. the side that glides your hands over his back, feeling every flex and every pull of his muscles, gently caressing the skin like it’s holy, like it’s not worthy of marks—instead to be worshipped and revered with thoughtful touches. your lips sear into every part of him they can find—his lips, his forehead, his nose, his hair as his face digs into your neck. even your voice is a gentle whisper of his name, so soft and careful, it’s like saying it wrong could break him. 

your hips buck up in tandem with his, meeting his rhythm as he slams into you, his balls slapping against your skin as he buries his cock into you as deep as it’ll go with every harsh thrust. you can feel his tip kissing against that sweet spot in the back of your walls, your abused cunt sucking him in and hugging around him as he groans. 

the friction feels sickening, like he’ll pass out any second, like he’s floating between the precipice of pleasure and the edge of consciousness. 

you do that to him—he doesn’t know how or when or why, but you make him feel like he doesn’t have a grip on his own senses. he doesn’t mind it so much, he thinks—doesn’t hate the idea of letting himself fall into your palm and wrap around him. it feels nicer that way, like it’s where he belongs.

“fuck, ‘s so tight,” he rasps, whining into your neck as your hand cups the back of his head, holding him in place. his hips are rutting into you sloppily now, barely maintaining the rhythm from before as he nears his high—but that doesn't stop him from angling into you perfectly, slamming into your sensitive spot every time without fail. “c-cum—’m gonna cum. cum with me, sweetheart.”

“‘m so close, toru,” you sob—and then, just as his thumb finds your clit again, rubbing harsh, desperate little circles to get you over the edge, you cum again—harder than the last time, spasming around his cock and pulling him in as you squeeze around him. “t-toru,” you gasp brokenly, “fuck, ‘s good—so good.”

“baby,” he moans lowly, “fuck, you’re so perfect. prettiest thing ever—prettiest pussy ever. i, sh-shit—” your orgasm quickly has him falling into his own, hot, thick ropes of cum spilling into you with every twitch of his cock, sweet little noises pulled from his throat that he sings into your neck, fucking his load into you. 

it’s messy, the way cum spills out of you and coats his cock—but it’s perfect and feels so, so right. you can’t help but think how perfectly satoru fits against you as his body slumps on top of yours, panting and spent as he cages you in his arms.

your hand doesn’t leave his hair—now that you know how it feels, you don’t think you can stop threading your fingers through it, ever. 

“wow, toothless,” he chuckles after a bit, “you’re seriously obsessed with me, huh? i mean, how long have you been nursing this crush on me, hmm? thinking about your brother’s best friend, you naughty little thing—”

“satoru, would you shut that mouth for once,” you hiss, rolling your eyes—still, there’s an affectionate grin on your lips this time as he chuckles into your skin. 

“oh baby, i’m afraid this mouth never shuts, so you should get used—”

suddenly, you both freeze as you hear suguru’s voice through the door. “you two better not be fucking doing what i think you’re doing,” he seethes, making your jaw drop and satoru’s eyes widen.

fuck—that was never supposed to happen. suguru was never supposed to hear, let alone know.

“hey,” satoru starts, “if suguru kicks me out of our place, i can come be your new permanent housemate, right?”

do not comment about a part 2

but yeah he can come live with me any time and as long as he pays by sucking my tiddies i shall provide all food and utilities and everything