#usually i ignore those. but in moments like this. i get it. light why did you fumble

[kiyomitakada]

[ID: Art of Light, Misa, and L from Death Note. Misa is kissing Light on the cheek, holding him by the shoulders from behind, while L has one hand on Light's shoulder and another on his chest. Light looks dazed. Misa and L both have speech bubbles with hearts in them, and Light emits a heart. End ID]

[unreasonablerobin]

HI BARBIE

Damian Al Ghul x Girly!Reader

Synopsis: Damian and his... very girly girlfriend??

W.C: 4.3K

Tags: Fluff ♡

Something was different... everyone in the manor could tell that there was something different with Damian Al Ghul Wayne.

Considering he lived in a manor full of detectives, you really wouldn't think he'd have gotten away with his secret rendezvous.

7 months ago...

It all started with Alfred noticing new smells on his clothes as he did the laundry. At first, it seemed that Damian had simply switched to a new shampoo or maybe gotten a cologne. Then, the sharp scent of cologne started to come mixed with floral. Alfred did what any good butler would do. He ignored it. If his master wanted to indulge in wearing floral scents, he wouldn't shame him for it.

Alfred wasn't the only one who noticed the change in scent, though. Dick had been messing around with Damian in the training room. They always liked a good spar with each other. Everything was going as usual until... SNIFF

"Dude, are you wearing perfume?" Dick suddenly asked as he blocked a punch from his little brother. Damian's composure faltered for just a moment before he pulled himself together, grabbing Dick and tossing him over the shoulder. The poor vigilante was too distracted by his discovery to catch himself. He fell to the floor with a thud.

"Don't be ridiculous Grayson." The boy clicked his tongue as he began to walk out of the training room.

"It's one of those Britney Spears ones, Kori has a few," Dick said more to himself than Damian as the boy was choosing to ignore him the more words tumble out of his mouth. "Hold on don't tell, is it the pink one with the little green gems on it?"

Damian had to fight back the urge to inform him that the perfume he was thinking of was called Fantasy. He'd become quite the enthusiast simply from listening to you go on about all sorts of perfumes, and other products, sat at your vanity as he admired your reflection through the mirror.

"Why do you know so much about Britney Spears perfumes Grayson?" Damian retorted.

"Cause I have a very gorgeous girlfriend, Dams. I got her the perfume for her birthday, the bottle reminded me of her." He replied a lovesick grin already forming at the thought of his alien lover. The former assassin took the opportunity to sneak out of the training room as his older brother got lost in a train of hopeless romantic thoughts over his lover.

Once he made it back to his room he sharply inhaled. Yep, it smells like your perfume. Very clearly, like you'd jumped around spraying it before sneaking out this morning. He took a handful of his shirt and lifted it to his nose. Yep, also smells like your perfume and your setting spray. If he wanted to keep your relationship hidden from his lunatic families he'd need to do a better job of covering it, he thought to himself as he began to light any scented candles he could find. An attempt to cover your traces. One of them was a gift from you, so not entirely hiding your presence.

5 months ago...

The two of you were walking through the mall. Hands intertwined and a bundle of shopping bags in his other. He'd insisted on carrying them. No matter how ridiculous he looked. It was a funny sight. His cold hard expression paired with cute bags of clothes, makeup and a Sanrio plushie peeking out from one of them.

"Are you hungry, beloved?" Damian turned his head to face you. You pondered for a moment until your stomach decided for you by making a growling sound.

"Yes..." You said slightly embarrassed. A downturned smile spread on your face.

"Where would you like to go?" You were about to respond when your phone started ringing, a cheery pop song blared from your charm-adorned handbag.

"Sorry, one sec," you reached into the bag. Shoving all sorts of things around to get to your phone. "It's my mom, you pick I'll be back in a minute!" You stepped off to the side and answered the phone.

Damian huffed at the feeling of his empty hand as he began to scan the mall food court up ahead.

'Burger King, McDonalds, Stephanie and Cass, KFC...' He paused his train of thought. Oh shit, he didn't realise Stephanie and Cass would be here and walking towards you both, unaware of your presence.

"Mom, I promised I'd be back home for dinner. 6:30, I know," You laughed at her antics before saying your goodbyes and hanging up.

You didn't get the chance to turn around as your hand was being grabbed and you were getting dragged away.

"Damian?" you looked at the boy as he swerved between the crowds. "Is everything alright?" You watched as he occasionally looked behind the two of you. Taking a small glance back you spotted two girls you recognised from a photo he'd shown you.

"Hold on, is that Damian?" Stephanie stopped Cass in her tracks and pointed ahead. Cass looked up from her milkshake and saw the head of her little brother.

"We should go say hi! Wonder what he's doing in the mall?" Stephanie had taken Cass' arm and was pulling her towards Damian, both unaware that he wasn't alone and trying to get away from them.

Damian noticed the two getting closer and took a sharp left turn into a random clothing store. He used the clothing racks to hide from the persistent girls following them.

"Why's he gone in here?" Stephanie wondered out loud. "It's a women's clothing store." Cass shrugged her shoulders as her mind went to Dick's theory on Damian trying out more feminine things, and being ashamed of it, after the perfume incident. She thought the theory was ridiculous.

Cass looked around quickly to see if the shop was even worth spending time in, but nothing was to her taste. As she scanned the store she spotted what looked to her brother... and a girl? Sneaking into the dressing rooms.

'No, it couldn't be,' Cass thought to herself watching the figure of a boy that looked exactly like her brother disappear into a dressing room with a really pretty girl. 'Could it?'

You and Damian crammed into a little dressing room with all your shopping bags.

"So..." You began, turning to the mirror to fix any out of place hairs.

"We'll have to wait a while, they are unfortunately persistent."

"How long?"

"I do not know, beloved," He shoved your shopping bags into the corner. "Longer than you'd like, I'd imagine."

You stood in silence for a moment.

"I can think of a couple ways to pass the time..." You turned away to prevent yourself from laughing at Damian's flushed face.

3 months ago...

Damian and Jason had been giving each other a hand during patrol that night. Damian was chasing some low-life thugs and they managed to slip out of his grasp and dash all the way to Crime Alley. Thankfully Jason was there and helped him catch the guys. After dealing with them Damian stood up, a vibration surged through his pocket. He reached in about to immediately hit decline. Why would he answer the phone on patrol? That's what he thought until your face graced his peripheral. He quickly turned his back towards his brother. It was a photo of you and your closets friends. (Obviously the contact picture was only focused on you). It was taken on your birthday. You were all dolled up in makeup and a gorgeous outfit you'd insisted you needed his opinion on before going out. He was about to answer when, "Who's that?" Jason called out from behind.

'Oh Shit.' Damian thought to himself. There are so many excuses to use when your brother smells your girlfriend's perfume on you, so many ways to hide from your sisters when out on a date. How does one convince Red Hood that 'Beloved <3' isn't what it looks like? That its no one special on the other end of the line?

"No one," Damian tried his luck with lying anyways. "Mind your business!" He possessively clutched the phone to his chest. Hiding the caller ID and contact photo. That was only for him to see.

Jason stared at him through his helmet, "Uh-huh, sure," Damian could feel the bullshit look on Jason's face behind the helmet. "No one at all."

"No one for you to concern yourself with Todd, mind your business." Damian stuttered out sharply before disappearing into the night. Away from prying eyes.

Jason couldn't help but grin as he watched his brother run off, phone clutched in his hand like a lifeline.

"Idiot."

Damian had perched himself on top of an apartment building. He brought his phone in front of him and called his last missed call. You. He sat in the silence of dawn, only the buzz of his voice and the tires of some earlier commuters to be heard. Until he heard the sweet voice of his favourite person.

"Hello? Damian?" God, how did your voice sound so angelic this early in the morning, through a phone speaker?

"Good morning, beloved," He sighed contently, "Apologies for not picking up when you first called I was finishing up something." He felt at peace hearing your voice and the ruffle of your bedsheets. Even if it was only through a phone and not in person. It would do.

"Oh sorry!" You whisper yelled. The sun was only rising, your family were probably still asleep. "I didn't mean to bother, we can talk la-"

"Nonsense, you are certainly not bothering me, beloved. I'm more than happy to make time for you at any hour of the day or night." He cut you off. It was silent on your end of the line for a few moments. A couple of giggles and some sheet rustling could be heard. Damian could see it in his mind you going slightly rouge and hiding your face in the pastel duvet.

"It's just," you trailed off, "I had a stupid nightmare and I couldn't go back to sleep."

"If my presence is what you seek in order to feel safe than I will always be available." You smiled at that looking out the window by your bed.

"I will be there."

"What!?" You shot up in your bed, shrinking in on yourself when you realised how loud you were being.

"Damian, there's no need-"

"Yes there is very much need," You sighed at his persistence. "You require my comfort to fall back asleep, I know how much you enjoy your weekend sleep." You fell back k down into tour bed with a smile. He was so right. You loved your weekend lie ins.

"I am finished patrol so I will make my way to you."

"Okay, I'll see you in a few, my windows open," you bit your bottom lip for a moment, hesitation filling you, "I love you." There was silence on the other end of the line until the call ended. You looked at your phone in confusion worried you'd accidentally hit the red button or if Damian had decided he actually hated you. A shadow replacing the sunrise light that had been beaming onto you stopped your train of thought. You looked up to see Robin perched on your windowsill. Strategically, as to not damage your flower boxes.

"I love you too." He whispered before he crawled through the window, landing on your bed.

2 months ago...

Damian was sat in the back of the Batcave as Bruce and Tim discussed something about an ongoing case. He was cleaning one of his katanas. Deciding it was clean enough he picked it up and set it to the side. A small sound of metal hitting metal made the two detectives perk up. The sound came again as Damian picked up another blade to clean. Tim turned his head ever so slightly to glance at the boy and in the corner of his eyes, he spotted it. A small ring on his left hand. He gave a small glance to Bruce, who was still staring at the screen before him, but he could tell the scrunch of his face wasn't from the confusion of the case. Damian completely unaware of his brother's and father's change in demeanour continued to clean his blades. The metal ring subtly caught the light as he carefully rubbed the cloth against the sharp edge of the blade. A gentle smile graced his face as he stared at the ring. His mind wandered back to the day he gave you the promise ring. He knew you'd love it but he was still so nervous. He would rather die than let anyone know that though. Little whispers snapped him out of his thoughts. Looking up he spotted Tim leaning in towards Bruce muttering something.

"Can I say something?" Tim questioned in a hushed teasing tone.

"No, you can not." Bruce sternly replied, folding his arms across his chest.

"Oh come on," Tim looked from him to his brother out of the corner of his peripheral. "You can't not be curious about what's up with him?"

Bruce gave the young detective a quick glance before returning to the screen with CCTV footage playing.

"Of course I am, but it is none of our business." He said curtly. "Damian is very capable and I trust that he is independent and mature enough to do as he pleases."

Tim sighed in response to that. He'd have to lay off on the teasing for now, but just know that when he gets a moment alone with his little brother he will become the biggest pain in the ass.

Damian couldn't help but let his smile grow back after hearing his father's words. He spun the ring around his finger for a brief moment before setting his blades aside and exiting the cave.

1 month ago...

Another rare day where you manage to spend the day in Wayne Manor. Today was much easier than all the others. Dick was in his apartment with Kori'ander, Bruce and Tim were away on company business, the girls were all out, and Jason was god knows where. You didn't really care if they were in the Manor or on the other side of the world at this moment. You were sprawled on top of your boyfriend in his bed. Nothing could possibly ruin this day for you. Your head was rested on his chest, listening to his rhythmic heartbeat. His hand held yours and the other played with the ends of your hair. You both layed in the silence of the day as you quite literally watched paint dry. Over on his desk, which was supposed to be used for homework and not art or makeup, like it you had previously been using it for. Two small paintings lay drying; one of batcow and the other of a sunset. A huff of laughter from the chest beneath you made you look up.

"What?"

"There is paint on your face, beloved."

You shot up from his body and where about to run into the bathroom. Damian gently grabbed into your face. The red paint streaks where mostly dry now so he was easily able to rub them off. Even when your face was paint free, you both sat there, your face in his hands and his thumb caressing your skin.

"You are so beautiful, Habibti." You stared with a lovestruck look right back at his lovesick one. He leaned in a little closer.

"May I?" He asked, ever the gentleman. You nodded.

He brought his lips to yours not caring about the sticky sensation of your lip gloss. You sighed into the kiss and brought your hands up to rest of his. They slid down and held onto his wrists. Neither of you would get Iver this feeling. The butterflies, your lips on eachother, the fear that enters your body when you hear a knock of the door. Oh my god. You immediately pulled away.

"Master Damian," Alfred's muffled voice came through the door. "Would like some cookies? They are freshly baked."

"No thanks, Pennyworth." Damian quickly replied. There was an uncomfortable silence for a second before-

"Would your friend like some?" Both of your eyes bulged out and your jaws dropped.

"I won't tell, no need to fret!"

You looked to Damian nervously, who nodded his head, telling you that Alfred really meant what he said.

"Yes please!" You piped up. You could smell those cookies and my god, you wanted them so bad.

"Very well, I'll prepare them and some tea." Alfred laughed before heading back to the kitchen.

Present...

Yesterday had been another one of those rare days where nobody was in the manor, so you had come over and Damian persuaded you to stay the night.

You sleepy made your way into the bathroom attached to his room. Deciding it was time to get ready for the day. Your eyes scanned the counter top covered in skincare and makeup products left here overtime by you. You couldn't help but smile thinking of all the smalls ways you two had been intertwining your life's. You had things in his place, he had things in yours, he carried hair ties for you and you carried bandages for him. It was simple and sweet. It got you thinking about why he didn't want you to meet his family as you did your skincare. He'd met yours, plenty of time at that. He'd spent the night, he'd had dinner with them, hell you're mom bought him an Easter egg! You swore up and down to yourself he didn't have any problem with you or his family. Now picking up your primer you couldn't help but be confused. Why is he so desperate to hide you and your relationship? You shook the thoughts away when you spotted your frown in the mirror, now just focusing on getting ready.

An hour had passed and Damian was awake. He could hear you in the bathroom as he rolled over in the now cold bed.

"Babe, can you help me?" You softly called out as you nudged the bathroom door open. "I can't get my earing in." You informed with you hands at your ear.

He got up from his bed a maneuvered you back into the bathroom, where the lighting was good, shutting the door behind him.

"I can't get it through, it shouldn't be closed up though!" You handed him the earing and stood beside him under the ceiling light.

He tilted your head and began what would be an annoyingly long process of trying to perform the simple task of getting a piece of metal through a hole.

Alfred was in the middle of cooking breakfast and asked Dick to go wake his brother up. Unaware that you were still here. You usually snuck out earlier but you're phone was dead when you woke up so you never checked the time.

Dick trecked up the stairs, past Jason leaving his room and towards Damian's. He softly knocked on the door before swinging it open.

"Uh, Jason?"

"What?" Jason grumbled at the end of the hallway.

"Who's phone is that?" Dick asked pointing towards a phone that definitely wasn't his brother's. Unless he'd taken a sudden liking to charms and bows.

Jason sleepy stared at Dick until the image of Damian's phone with a picture of a girl and suspicious caller ID appeared in his head. Now he was sprinting towards his brother's room.

Jason and Dick stood in the doorway examining the unknown phone plugged in and rested on the nightstand. Jason gasped and pointed at a woman's bag, say on the floor, leaning against the desk leg. Dick dramatically took hold of Jason and put a finger to his lips. He then pointed to the bathroom door.

"Damian it's fine!"

"I don't want to hurt you!"

"It's not going to hurt, babe I promise!"

A girl? Babe!?

This had Dick and Jason turning to eachother, shock written all over their faces as they sprinted to the stairs.

Bruce, Tim, Stephanie and Cass were all sat at the dining table. Bruce was reading the newspaper, Tim was chugging a coffee, Stephanie was talking to Cass while they waited for the other three boys. Same as every morning. At least it was, until-

"Damian has a girlfriend!" Dick shouted like he was the final girl just after discovering who the killer was.

"She's upstairs!" Jason skidded into the kitchen behind him.

Alfred froze, as he watched Tim and Stephanie sprint faster than he'd ever seen before. Dick and Jason following right behind them. Cass subtly followed. She didn't want to be nosy but... she needed to know! Her suspicions were driving her crazy ever since the mall. Bruce sighed, folding up the newspaper and setting it down before heading up to Damian's room as he heard screaming.

You were mortified. Six people just barged into the room and saw you in your pyjamas; your underwear and one of Damian's shirts. You screamed and immediately bolted back into the bathroom. You were panicking. Damian didn't want you to meet his family and you just did it in the worst way possible. Half naked and screaming. What a way to meet the future in-laws. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror as you slid to the floor. Atleast your hair and makeup look good.

"Drake, what the fuck!?" Damian yelled.

"Hold on, why am I the only one getting yelled at?" Tim retorted.

Stephanie nudged his shoulder. "You scared her stupid!"

"We barged in at the same time!"

"You're a guy!"

Damian stood there with a frustrated expression watching Tim and Stephanie bicker and the rest of his family pile in. Cass's small smile at him help him relax a little, but only a little. And just for a moment, cause then Dick and Jason piped up.

"So..." Dick began. "Who is she?"

"None of your business."

"That's what you told me when someone named 'beloved' called you on patrol." Jason chimed in with a teasing tone. Damian could only stare at more frustration than before. His cheeks began to flush and that just passed him off more. Stephanie wasn't helping with her "awww's in the background. Damian was about to scream for them to all get out, get physical with Tim if he needed to.

“Damian.”

Everyone turned towards the stern, deep voice in the doorway. Bruce stepped forward to his youngest son.

"Father," Damian started a tangent before Bruce even had a chance to say anything more. "Her name is Y/n. We have been dating for 8 months, and I love her. No matter your approval or disapproval I will continue to see her." Damian informed his father in a stern and determined tone.

“If it’s alright with you I would like to meet her. Properly.” He requested. “I believe the rest would also like to meet her.” Damian didn’t know how to respond. He thought his father would have a bigger reaction to lying and sneaking around with a girl. Especially considering the occupations of everyone present.

“Of course only if she’s alright with it as well.” Bruce added with a light smile.

"Allow me to check." Bruce ushered all of his children out of the young boy's room.

Once they’d all left he slid into the bathroom where you were still sat on the floor.

“Habitat,” he called out softly. “We don’t have to go down there if you don’t want to.” He knelt in front of you.

“No! I want to, I’d love to meet your family.” You countered quickly. “Only if that’s okay with you, I don’t want to overstep.”

“Whatever you want, beloved.” He said with a smile identical to his father’s.

You were now dressed and sat beside Damian at the Wayne dining table. All of the Wayne's were staring at you. It wasn't daggers or disgust. You'd figured it was curiosity.

"How the hell did you even meet?" Jason asked the first question.

"School." Damian answered coldly.

"No offence, but I didn't expect you to end up with someone so..." Dick trailed off as he swung is fork around as if it would conjure up the words he wad looking for.

"Girly?" You suggested. "I get it, you probably thought he'd end up with someone like yourselves."

Everyone at the table felt a bead of sweat drop from their foreheads.

"What?" Stephanie asked with a nervous laugh.

"She knows." They all snapped their necks to look at Damian and then their father at the head of the table.

He sighed, "Damian I trust that you thought about all this before giving us away?"

"Of course I did. Do not suggest that they are not trustworthy." Bruce and Damian had a bit of a stare off. While that was happening Stepahine had kicked Tim out of his chair beside you.

"You're hair is so gorgeous! What do you use?" She asked as she held a strand in her palm.

"Oh, I cannot think of the name! But there's some up in Damian's bathroom, I'll show it to you."

Dick leaned over the table, "I thought I was going crazy when I started smelling perfumes off him!" You laughed at his comment.

"What do you use? It smells similar to the one Kori uses."

You began to chat with the vigilantes about all sorts of things. Telling Cass and Stephanie about the products you use and where you shop, listening to stories about Dick and Kori. Jason chimed in with a few book recommendations and reviews after learning you like to read. Quickly you found yourself having conversations with all the Waynes like it was as easy as breathing. As you were laughing at some Internet joke you and Tim were discussing, you spotted a poute on your boyfriend's face. And it finally clicked.

Damian Al Ghul was jealous of his own family.

He kept your relationship a secret and avoided introducing you for so long because he didn't want them to steal your attention.

You couldn't help but smile at that.

A/N: First piece published!! I welcome back feedback with open arms. Please just don't take this opportunity to be rude. I'd love to know if I write ooc or if my grammars incorrect, ect.

Shout out to Damian Al Ghul my gatekeeping king🙏

[menop033]

My favorite crimes Barbara Gordon has committed

Full disclosure, I am considering only New Earth Babs because the other versions are simply inferior. I will ignore the typical masked adventurer crimes she did as Batgirl, like assault, breaking and entering, trespassing, obstructing justice and vigilantism. I will also not really consider the very classic Oracle shenanigans like hacking, accessing some databases she probably shouldn't, stealing from rich criminals to fund her own (kinda criminal) operation, invading privacy and literally doing illegal spy work with Birds of Prey. Because those are boring and I want something that's not just another Tuesday. So, in no particular order:

Changing the light on traffic lights

Stupid and small but I love it. Very iconic and very Barbara-like.

+Extra Helena who has very logical and understandable qualms about Oracle's power and influence

[Birds of Prey (1999) #58]

Blackmailing Catwoman into returning stolen paintings

And threatening to send her money to charities. Catwoman begrudgingly obliged.

I am not too sure about what happened leading to that moment. That comic didn't have a particularly strong story. I think Selina stole them while Barbara was still Batgirl?

Either way, the ending is pretty memorable for me. Ultimate irony - threatening her into returning stolen goods by stealing funds from her.

[Birds of Prey: Catwoman/Oracle]

Making a deal with Gotham City's emergency services

and then using the tech she implemented to override the control of the vehicles when needed. Or, when she wants to. This one instance was because Steph just got shot in the head and didn't really want to end up in an ER where her mother worked, exposing her (third) secret identity. It worked out so yay?

[Batgirl (2009) #6]

Sort of kidnapping Wendy Harris

To be fair, she did it because Calculator, Oracle's arch nemesis and Wendy's father, was endangering her and she did it to protect her but a little more explanation couldn't hurt. But that wouldn't be Barbara without her genial tendency to keep everyone but herself in the dark. I guess she really did keep Wendy in the dark. In the basement.

[Batgirl (2009) #11]

Political corruption

We never get to learn what exactly she did. She just said that many leaders owe her their positions. it sure as hell doesn't sound legal. World-wide corruption? Why not. Entirely too much power for one person to hold. 10/10

Also, I bet you that those power grids aren't exactly controlled legally.

[Birds of Prey (1999) #103]

Blowing up a government facility and getting rid of some evidence

Well, Cass decided to break into a government facility and free a terrorist to prove a point that everyone can change. And in doing so she left them some photo, video and DNA evidence.

Oracle therefore later sent her back there to destroy it, blowing the building up in the process. Oh and she also presumably helped the guy get fake documents but that's not 100% confirmed (Cass said that it's from her friends as she gave them to him).

She really cares about her not-quite-daughter <3

[Batgirl (2000) #17]

Her father/uncle (the Gordon family was kind of a mess after Crisis) might be the commissioner of Gotham but she clearly doesn't respect the law in the slightest. They love eachother, of course, they just don't share the same views on the law.

I simply enjoy how unhinged her methods sometimes usually are and we need to recognise that. Also, while we are at it, get rid of Prime Earth Barbara's characterisation and bring back the competent and sarcastic control-freak.

[baeshijima]

okay so i have kind of but not really met anaxa in game but !!

anaxa x sunshine reader.

like... renown infamous genius scholar anaxagoras who doesn’t take anything from anyone is almost akin to a cat when with you, putting on an adamant front only to crumble and — begrudgingly, he tries to stress, though he really isn't fooling anyone, much less himself — ultimately give in to your whims; answering your mundane questions, listening and providing his own quips (sometimes sincere, often snappy) here and there to your endless rambles, trailing behind you hot on your heels only to eventually catch up to your side as you wander off to who knows where, yammering on about who knows what.

(you're planning to visit okhema, is what he gathered from your animated retelling of some bakery you'd heard from word-of-mouth which was supposed to be good. hah! why would you waste your time on such trivialities when you could be graced with the honour of his tutelage on the topic of free speech and— curses, how did you get so far ahead?)

in spite of his… less than successful attempts to thwart these pesky thoughts and feelings from festering within, anaxagoras long since knew the irreversible truth brought by your appearance in his life — from the very first moment you bumped into him amid your haste, stray papers sent flying as the large leather-bound books thudded against the library floor. the less-than-flattering slew of words initally locked and loaded, ready to be spewed, oddly dissipated on the tip of his tongue the second he saw your frantic expression, hasty movements in re-gathering the strewn papers, and clumsy set of apologies spilling from your lips. it was almost trance-like, the manner in which he kneeled as he began to collect the flyaway papers surrounding him.

after returning them to you with a kindly, “who runs in a narrow hallway? watch where you’re going next time, you may not be so fortunate with the next collision,” anaxa naively thought that would be the end of that. he did not foresee running into you more frequently from thereafter, feeling strangely moved as a foreign warmth settled within every time you never failed to greet him with a beaming grin, eventually accompanied by the, dare he speculate after months upon months of pouring over and overanalysing your interactions, affectionate tone when calling his name. having been subject to the numerous days— weeks, even — spent listening to your attempts at correctly pronouncing his name, anaxa really should be immune to the effects. unfortunately for him, he could not be any further from the truth.

(anaxa chooses to ignore how he purposely nitpicked your pronunciation, extending the time spent teaching you how to do so just to hear you say his name a little more. not his proudest moment, but he finds it worth all the extra effort when you greet him as such, his name seamlessly rolling off your tongue coupled with your starry eyes and rapturing cadence as you ramble om about whatever caught your interest that day.)

perhaps he should have expected this outcome. after all, for someone who enjoys his solitude, anaxa has caught himself seeking you out on more occasions than deemed appropriate for mere acquaintances. no, not even friends would be this forefront. it was a predetermined outcome, anaxa deduces, the way in which your presence endlesslh draws him in like a shadow to a light— a moth to a flame.

if only to see your blinding smile directed towards and caused by him, anaxa supposes he wouldn't mind your nonsensical chatter replacing the usual white noise droning on in the background. for how long? well, for as long as he continues to breathe seems sufficient enough.

(you ought to stop entertaining some of those foolish scholars, however. they really are not worth wasting a second more than necessary on when he himself has far more knowledge and wit they do combined.)

[xoxo-sarah]

A Chance

My Wife part 3

Part 1 | Part 2

↝pairing: Season1!Daryl Dixon x wife!reader

↝warning: things are rough between Daryl and Reader, death, cursing, arguing, walkers, ect. The usual twd stuff, angst, reader wears Daryl's clothes ( but as a big girl myself, we can just ignore how he's a twig and that's most likely unrealistic 🫡), not proofread

↝⎙ 1.30.25

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Daryl Dixon, or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

Daryl Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Daylight broke and Andrea hadn't moved.

Daryl grumbled about Amy turning, but you quickly shot him down each time. People grieve in different ways. Andrea knew what she had to do when the time came.

"Y'all can't be serious." Daryl huffed, watching Andrea through squinted eyes, "Let that girl hamstring us? The dead girl's a time-bomb." He seethed.

"Daryl," You glared up at him, rubbing the scratch on your upper arm. "Don't be insensitive."

"We ain't got time for this." He seethed, glaring back at you.

You stood, "She lost her sister, not her smarts. She knows what to do."

He stepped closer, putting his weight on one leg, slightly slouching to be eye level with you. Maybe he was trying to be intimidating, but it didn't work. You had seen the dark, sad parts of him. He will never be able to scare you or berate you with actions or words. "And if she don't?"

"What do you suggest?"Rick questioned Daryl, stopping the oncoming argument.

Daryl stepped closer to Rick, bringing his fingers to his temple, "Take the shot. Clean, in the brain from here. Hell, I can hit a turkey between the eyes from this distance."

"No," Lori spoke up, "For God's sake, let her be."

Dary scoffed before walking off. In turn, you eyed the back of Andrea's head. She knew what she had to do, right? You hoped so.

Pulling your eyes away from her, you looked around at all of the bodies. Most were people who you had just seen, laughing and eating. Others were the dead that had wandered from the city.

Shutting your eyes, your hand automatically went to your wrist, the tightly woven thread helping to ground you. Your fingers traveled down to your left hand, the wedding ring soothing against your fingertips, a contrast to the thick thread of the collar/ bracelet on your wrist.

Daryl looked up as he helped drag a body across the ground. He watched you, watched your movements; a desperate search for comfort.

- time skip -

Daryl stomped away, not understanding why Amy and Jim were not being taken care of. They were "ticking time bombs". They were liabilities. In the new world, there was not time to grieve. Sneering at the thought, he yanked the tent flap back, watching you jump, immediately wiping under your eyes.

His eyes trailed over you in the silence of the moment. You needed comforting. He wanted to comfort you. He really did. But he had a feeling those tears were his doing. He shouldn't have taken his frustration out on you, knowing you had witnessed something horrific.

The tent opening fell down as he walked away.

Your hands instantly went back to your face, muffling the sobs that raked your body.

-

Sweat had mixed with the dirt and grime, caking your skin as you helped bury the bodies. The bright sun beat down, causing you to squint.

Daryl kept an eye on you from a distance. Neither of you had uttered a word to each other since the morning. You were both too stubborn.

Backing his truck up, bodies in the bed of it, Daryl caught sight of you looking up through the side mirrors. Just as quickly, you looked away and got back to digging, ignoring Rick and Shane's argument to your left. Turning the truck off, Daryl jumped out, slamming the door.

He made his way to where you, Rick, and Shane were digging holes for the friends you had light the night prior. "I still think it's a mistake not burning these bodies. It's what we said we'd do, right? Burn 'em all, wasn't that the idea?"

"At first."

Daryl scoffed, "The Chinaman gets all emotional, says it's not the thing to do, we just follow 'em along? These people need to know who the hell's in charge here- what the rules are."

"And who the hell's in charge, Daryl? It sure as hell ain't you."

Daryl scoffed again, watching as you glared at him, waiting for him to reply, from where you had jumped down in a freshly dug hole.

"There are no rules." Rick countered Daryl's statement.

"Well, that's a problem." Lori walked past Daryl's truck, children and their mothers behind her. "We haven't had one moment to hold onto anything of our old selves. We need time to mourn, and we need to bury our dead. It's what people do." With that, she turned and walked away, not caring to hear what anyone thought about that.

-

Feeling disgusting, you had made your way back to the tent. Not having any clothes, you opted for something of Daryl's. His cut shirts weren't ideal, but they were cooling and non-restricting. His old work pants fit loose, but that's not anything string couldn't fix.

Buttoning the second to last button of the dingy shirt, you heard the opening of the tent begin to unzip. You moved to cover yourself, but ultimately relaxed when Daryl stepped in. He looked up, scanning your body before glancing behind himself, making sure nobody had seen you changing from over his shoulder. He zipped the flap back up, before simply standing there. He was slightly hunched over, as were you, thanks to the small tent.

It was silent.

Your fingers went back to the button, as you ignored your husband's presence.

Daryl moved closer, standing behind you. The air around you two changed. His head fell to your shoulder, his own grime mixing with yours. He stayed there, vulnerable. This was his way of apologizing.

Your body relaxed further, sinking back into him. His arms snaked around your middle, holding you close.

"It's okay." You whispered, only loud enough for him to hear, and not to disturb this newfound peaceful atmosphere. He nodded, moving his hands to your hips, turning you around. His fingers made quick work of buttoning the last button for you.

-

The next morning, everyone was getting ready to leave for the C.D.C. Rick was out in the field, talking to a man named Morgan, the guy who had saved Rick’s life. Lori, Carol, and the kids were helping to load everything into cars. You helped Daryl load up his truck. Hopping onto the tailgate, you helped pull Daryl’s bike up, gently laying it on the truck bed.

“Are ya willin’ to put your life in his hands?” Daryl helped you jump down, glancing at Rick in the distance. Daryl was looking to you for answers. You were always the more level-headed of the two. Daryl would follow you into fire, he’d follow you to the end of the world. And you just might be doing that.

“I think you have to hope there’s a safe place out there. If we don’t hope for it, then we won’t get it. Hope is all we’ve got.” You patted his chest, before walking by him. He watched you, before slamming the rusted tailgate closed.

-

The wind blew through your hair, cooling your face. Daryl drove, one hand on the steering wheel, the other near his mouth as he nipped at his fingernails. The leg that was not being used for the gas and brake pedals slightly shook, a trailer to his nerves. You rode in silence.

“”M sorry–‘bout yesterday.” He spoke up first, biting his thumb nail. You turned your head, looking at his side-profile. He didn’t dare to glance at you.

“I know. I am too. We were both on edge; said some things. It’s alright.”

He nodded, pulling his thumb from his mouth. “Ya think Merle’s alright?”

You thought about it. Daryl had told you what they found on the roof and what they had run into.

“I think he’s a tough fucker to kill.” Daryl let out an entertained huff, “He had enough energy to steal the van, so there’s a high chance he’s okay…maybe.”

Daryl let your words marinate. Letting out a deep exhale, he swapped hands on the wheel, placing his right one of your knee. You moved closer to him, placing your hand over his.

-

Guilt was eating at you.

You had all left Jim under a tree. Sure, it was per his request, but that didn’t stop the shame bubbling in your gut. Even miles from where he sat, you had a frown on your face, thinking of him. The turning was inevitable. But the thought of him having to sit there and deal with the feeling of his bones being made of glass, cutting into him with the slightest move, having to deal with that all on his own, hurt you.

Daryl felt the tension in the truck. You sat closer to the door, hands in your lap.

His hand moved toward the radio, before cursing himself. That wouldn’t work in the apocalypse

Grumbling, he leaned over, opening the glove box and blindly digging through. Pulling a cassette tape out, he plucked it into the truck, twisting the volume knob.

It’s what Jim wanted, you kept reminding yourself. But it didn’t make you feel any better about yourself. You just hoped he wasn’t in pain for much longer.

-

Daryl tapped your arm, watching you blink awake. The melody had settled you to a light slumber. Still groggy from sleep, you took in your surroundings. For a moment, you forgot that the world went to shit. The sky was turning a dark orange, sun setting in the distance. But as you sat up in the seat, you could see the bodies on the ground, bugs buzzing above them.

“Wanna get out?” Daryl stared at you as you looked at the huge building through the windshield. Even more bodies laid in front of the building, flies swarming them. Some bodies were mindlessly wandering around.

This was the C.D.C?

Without giving a response, you opened your door, jumping out. Daryl followed, grabbing his crossbow and a shotgun from the floorboard. Walking around the truck, he pressed the gun to your side, getting your attention. You grabbed it and began following everyone to the building.

The stench alone almost had you hurling.

“Alright, everybody,” Shane began whispering, “Keep moving. Go on. Stay quiet. Let’s go.”

The constant buzzing of flies and the horrible smell of decay just might be your own personal hell.

Finally, you were a few feet from the building. Rick and Shane beat on the roll-up doors.

“There’s nobody here.” T-Dog swayed on his feet, turning to look over his shoulder every few seconds.

“Then why are these shutters down?” Rick was holding onto hope; he had to.

“Walkers!” Daryl pulled you by the arm, putting you behind him.

Children screamed, guns cocked, feet shuffled.

“You led us into a graveyard!” Daryl turned, making his way toward Rick. His nostrils flared. Fury behind his eyes.

You stepped in front of him, separating him and what he wanted to do out of anger and frustration.

“He made a call!” Dale interjected.

Daryl rounded you, “It was the wrong damn call!”

Shane stopped Daryl. “Just shut up. You hear me? Shut. Up. Shut up!” He pushed Daryl back, pointing at him.

You quickly walked over, grabbing Daryl’s shoulder before the whole thing could escalate.

Shane turned, walking back to Rick, who still stood at the shutters. “Rick, this is a dead end.”

“Where are we gonna go?” Carol held onto her daughter, but was ignored.

Night was blanketing the sky–fast. You could barely see where the cats were parked from where you stood.

Shane continued, “Do you hear me? No blame.”

Lori acknowledged Carol, “She’s right. We can’t be here, this close to the city after dark.”

“Fort Benning, Rick-still an option.”

“On what?” Andrea stepped forward, glowering. “No food, no fuel. That’s 100 miles.”

“125. I checked the map.” Glenn corrected.

Carl clung to Lori’s legs. She stared at her husband, “Forget Fort Benning! We need answers tonight, now.”

“We’ll think of something.” Rick tried, not meeting his wife’s eyes.

“C’mon!” “Let’s go!” “Let’s get out of here!” Everyone began to make their way back to the vehicles, “Alright, everybody back to the cars. Let’s go, move.”

“The camera– It moved!”

“You imagined it.”

“It. Moved.” Rick didn’t think anything of Dale’s words, walking closer to the camera near the doors. “It moved.”

“Rick, man. It’s an automated device. It’s gears, okay? They’re just winding down. Now come on. Man, just listen to me.” Shane grabbed Rick by his upper arm, trying to drag him away. “Look around this place. It’s dead, okay? It’s. Dead. You need to let it go, Rick!”

Rick pushed Shane off, going to the shutters and beating against them again. He stared up into the camera.

“Rick! There’s nobody here!” Lori yelled.

Rick ignored her, “I know you can hear me!”

Shane began ushering everyone back to the cars. “Everybody get back to the cars, now!”

Rick didn’t budge. “Please, we’re desperate. Please help us.” He begged, “We have women, children, no food, hardly any gas left.”

Lori thrusted Carl onto you, seeing as you were the closest to her, and ran over to Rick. She grabbed him. “Rick-”

“We have nowhere else to go-”

“There’s nobody here.”

Rick continued to pound on the doors.

Carl clung tighter to you.

“Keep your eyes open.” Shane ordered.

“If you don’t let us in, you’re killing us! Please!” Rick yelled at the top of his lungs.

Shane went over, pushing Lori away and grabbing Rick by his shoulders. “Come on, buddy. Let’s go.”

Carl pushed himself closer to you, hearing his father so desperate but to no avail.

Rick fought against getting dragged back, still staring into the camera, “Please help us.”

People shouted. Carl’s tears soaked into your /Daryl’s/ pants.

“You’re killing us! YOU’RE KILLING US!”

Shane shoved Rick away, watching his face crumble.

“You’re killing us.”

Your eyes widened, holding Carl closer, as a bright light nearly blinded you. The shutters opened, rolling up slowly. A hissing echoed. Everyone gawked, not knowing what to do.

“Daryl, you cover the back.” Shane ordered. Carl let go, running to his mother.

You cocked your gun, joining Daryl. He glanced at you, a questioning gaze set on you. You simply blinked at him, in shock.

Everyone walked toward the light, looking around and gawking at the interior. It smelt clean, a contrast to the horrid, rotting smell outside.

“Hello? Hello?!”

“Close those doors.”

“Watch for walkers.”

“Hello?”

A gun cocking had the group readying themselves, wildly looking around for the source.

A man stood in the shadows, gun in hand. “Anybody infected?”

“One of our group was. He didn’t make it.” Rick answered the unknown man.

“Why are you here?” The man stepped forward, “What do you want?” He put the gun down, looking at all of your grime-covered faces.

“A chance.”

Part 4

•2021-2025 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I do NOT give permission!]

[kathelovecatsandfeminism]

Hold me

warnings: dr robby x reader; angst; smut; pet names; fluff and comfort; p in v; unprotected sex; heavy eye contact; no use of y/n; daddy kink; age gap; I wanted SO MUCH to be curled up in Noah's lap, so this is a confession, sorry Summary: reader is very stressed and overwhelmed but robby is here to take care of her

The spelling has not been fully revised and it is always good to remember that English is not my first language, so be nice. I think that's all.

Your day had been disastrous, as had your week, those moments where you could swear the universe itself was against you. You loved your job so much, but let's face it, you didn't know how to distance yourself, too much effort for little recognition. There was a constant pressure in your eyes coming from a headache that refused to go away. You don't know when exactly, but everything seemed to be too much, too bright, too loud, too many people, too many textures and sensations. You may or may not have been a bit of a bicth to some people.

You were tired.

You also missed Michael, you had barely seen each other these days, usually you could blame his shifts, but this time it was you who was being swallowed up by the huge capitalist wheel. So ignoring the request for you to work overtime in a poorly paid academic internship, you just grabbed your things and walked out (not before taking a good shower in the building's bathroom, since they sucked your soul out of you, you could waste some water) offering some excuse, a sick grandmother or something like that.

You wanted him, you needed to see him

There was something magical about him that you couldn't explain. He always laughed when you tried, making the laugh lines around his eyes deepen. It was cute. He always seemed to know what to do. Okay, sure, years of experience as an emergency room chief develop that in a guy, but that wasn't all. He had that soft voice that made everything seem clear. His brain was always racing at a thousand miles an hour, but somehow Michael knew how to make him stay silent. That was why you were running to him.

You crossed your fingers, hoping he'd already gotten back from his shift. It was only when you got to the door that you realized you hadn't even told him about your sudden change of plans. A certain guilt settled in your chest. What if he was tired from his shift? He could very well be as much of a workaholic as you.

Yours steps were light as a cat's, passing through the living room and hallway. There was a faint yellow light coming from the room. Just the sight of it made your heart warm. Dr. Robby in his pajamas, under the covers, reading the novel you recommended, with his glasses perched on the tip of his nose.

“Hello, Doctor,” you offered, trying to be warm, but when Robby looked at you, his smile turned into a worried expression.

Did you look that bad?

Maybe, because right after that he gets up from the bed and walks towards you and holds your face in his cup, making you look up, into his eyes. That was enough to make you collapse, all the tears that were stuck and burning in the back of your throat. Like the breaking of a dam. So he does what he always does, he resolve. He hugs you tightly, lifting your feet in the air for a moment, allowing you to wet his shirt, leaning against him. And he senses your need for comfort and slowly guides you both back to the large bed in the center of the room. He sits you on his lap and you automatically curl up against him. Hands around his neck, knees raised, face hidden in the curve of his neck. He smells like home, warm and wide. Sometimes you feel like snuggling up inside his skin, does that make sense? His big hands distract you, under your shirt, not malicious, not yet, but caressing you, their warmth making you cling to the moment, to being in his arms.

You don't even notice when the crying stops and your breathing stabilizes, but he does.

"Hey, look at me, beautiful" with a reluctant moan you take a good look at him, but without tears this time. Handsome, the glasses are still there, he hates them, but you find them sexy

“Do you want to talk?” One of his hands clasps the side of your face. “not now” you try to go back to your hiding place around his neck, but he won't let you, stubborn. “so what can I do for you now, huh?” “now?” he nods “Love me” you say without thinking. He smiles “I already love you” you snort, wriggling in his lap and rubbing your face against his beard like a needy cat “I want you to hold me, I want you to make love to me” for some reason you blush with embarrassment. Robby had this thing about making you feel like a teenager in high school, all smiles and shyness. “Yeah?” his voice is husky, between smiles. The hand on your back, now more intent, goes down to your waist, it feels heavy there, warm “yeah” In a second his lips are on yours, it's slow, deliberate and deep. There's no rush in his movements, today isn't about that. His tongue enters your mouth with the same ease with which he has become a constancy in your life. You grab the fine hairs on the back of his neck When your lips are already red and swollen enough and you're short of breath, his lips move to your cheeks, your neck. He doesn't want to rush, but damn it, he's missed having you like this, so he gets bold, leaving little nibbles as he goes. Your breath catches. After sucking and biting your collarbone, his hands snake down the hem of your blouse, and you automatically raise your arms, doing the same with your sports top. Robby steps back a little, taking in the sight of you in all your glory, it's impossible not to slap him His fingertips trailed down your sides, stopping at your breasts. He seemed enchanted by them despite the number of times he'd seen you naked, until he lowered his head and gently took one of them in his mouth. He sucks and runs the tip of his tongue over the nipple, occasionally nibbling, just to make you lose your breath, he doesn't leave the other one unattended, he rolls the nipple in his fingertips. The combination of stimuli makes you arch your back, pushing your breasts more and more towards him.

He doesn't complain at all. But you do. There are too many clothes between you “take it off” you grab the hem of his shirt Then you pull away for a minute and you think you might die, grumbling against your will and before you can get back on his lap, his hands are quick to take the rest of yours off. He flips you over this time. His naked torso against your back, skin to skin, the hair of his chest tickling your back and the cold metal of his medal contrasting with the effervescence of the bodies anchoring you while one of his hands is between your legs playing with your clitoris with slow but deliberate and skillful circles applying just the right pressure, the other hand spreading and squeezing your left breast. Feels good His mouth is busy leaving kisses and nibbles from your shoulder to your ear, lingering on the last one, biting, pulling, licking and then blowing on the united point. the gray beard agitating the sensitive skin You are nothing more than a soft mass in his hands. But you want more, you need more, so you start rubbing yourself against his erection just below you, but unfortunately separated by his clothes. He notices your impatience, moans and gasps at the movement of your hips. Regaining control of the situation, the fingers that were on your clitoris move down to circle your entrance, teasing you and denying you every time, just there tempting you. He's going to give you what you want but first he whispers in your ear “daddy will take care of you, babe” and then his middle and ring fingers are inside you, curving into a hook shape, causing a loud moan to escape from you. Your brain is pure static, just Michael His hands, his skin, his breath in your ear as hot as your whole body A knot is forming in your core that Robby pulls and pulls, increasing the tension like the string of a guitar until you come. Whimpering and slurping as he just lets you ride his fingers, never easing the pressure on your peak. At the end of your descent you throw yourself against his broad chest, entropy, but still not enough. One of his hands runs wetly down your side as he rests his chin on your shoulder, watching your chest gasp and gradually stabilize

He whispers compliments “good girl” “That's it, babe” “You are so good to me, sweetheart” “Christ, you look so hot like this”

You just hum in response, wriggling intentionally on top of him. He sticks out his tongue and laughs In one fluid movement you're under him with his broad robby body between your legs. Eyes to eyes, noses almost touching, he's such a delight, your mind is already so clouded that you don't even notice when he's finished undressing. He takes your hand and leads it to his member, letting out a tense sigh, and covers yours with his, playing with the tip between your wet folds. Circling the entrance, but never actually entering, you wouldn't dare move your hand, so you move your hips so that they meet the shiny pink head of his cock Then without further ado he gives you a wet, lazy kiss as he slowly enters you, so needy your walls clench around him needing more and more. Robby closes his eyes to concentrate, you're so warm and receptive The rhythm is slow, almost lazy, but deep, to the hilt, grinding, his balls slap against your ass and the curly hairs at the base of it gently stimulate your clit, it's all very tender and the coming together of everything, “Look at me, beautiful,” he asks gently, leaning on one elbow next to your head, his face hovering over yours, sharing the same breath. With his free hand, he puts one of your legs on his hip, the other mirroring the movement, but his hand stays firmly there, leaving a beautiful mark It takes a lot out of you to open your eyes and they're addled, big and bright, at that moment there's no coherent line of thought in your mind, just michael, michael's tired eyes, michael's swollen and red lips, the sound of michael's deep thrusts hitting that spongy spot that makes your eyes roll back and a scream die in your throat, michael michael michel You don't even notice when it's so loud, but it's so close and by the way you squeeze Robby, so is he. He wets his fingertips with his own saliva and travels with his hand between your sweaty bodies, they're tight, firm circles, everything becomes too much and the only thing you remember is shouting robby's name while digging your nails into his back, keeping him as close to you as you can. It takes a while for you to come to your senses. Lying on his chest, one hand strokes his hair. He notices your breathing change and straightens up to look at you “there you are”

You just smile, too tired to speak Now he looks more serious, a little worried “we should talk” “hm” is all you say “you know you look like me, that's not good” he offers with humor but concern in his voice You move up his body a little, faces closer and scatter a lot of kisses over the frown that forms on his face “tomorrow, I promise”. That seems to satisfy him. He squeezes you tightly against his chest and pulls the sheet over you, you have the quietest sleep in weeks, all by robby

[freshxsturniolo]

two more shows - chris sturniolo x fem!reader

SUMMARY : fic continuation from these texts.

WARNINGS : smut, dom!chris and dom!reader, light choking (consensual), fluff.

"two more shows, squish" he had said 8 hours earlier, his eyelids drooping as he got himself comfortable in his bunk on the tour bus. you smiled, watching him slowly drift off to sleep after the last hour of continual yap. his energy levels after every single show where always through the roof, and you were the only person in those moments that he could release his energy too. you listened, you smiled, you giggled away. chris was perfect in every single way. as you heard his soft snores over the phone, you finally end the FaceTime. it had been like this the entire week, one of you drifting off to sleep first dependant on timezones and cities, usually you, but tonight you had forced yourself awake. chris' hadn't noticed your yawns, not for lack of care but because you allowed him to speak so freely. he had shown his brothers his tattoos that very show and he was on such a high. truthfully, you hadn't expected him to fall asleep so easily and quickly, but his social battery and adrenaline quickly drained out.

little did he know, however, that you were only a few hours away from getting yourself to the airport, a last minute flight booked the minute you had finished up work that previous morning. when your schedule didn't align with their tour dates, you had been devastated. all three of the triplets had been so looking forward to you coming on the road with them again, but last minute plans had bought it to a halt.

"i'll be there for the philly show, babe. i promise." you had said when he had left for tour the week previous. you would be there for the home show in boston if it had killed you. but you had worked your tiny fingers and socks off over the last week to finish up all your schedules appointments and work, and with a quick confirmation text from their management on timings and whereabouts, your flight out to orlando was booked and ready to land at 9am. night flights where your least favourite thing on the planet, but chris was your most favourite thing on the planet. and you wanted to see him so desperately.

__

the flight was easy. you thankfully slept for most of it, your eyes being woken from the hustle and bustle of the passengers gathering their things, and the excessive pinging of your phone once you final got signal and texts started to filter through. thankfully, none from chris. you knew he'd still be asleep.

the rush through the airport only took you 20 minutes, and before you knew it you where awaiting the uber their manager had sent out for you. chris' first text had come through as you were getting your luggage, but as much as it had pained you, you ignored each one. letting him sit and wonder.

your uber pulls up and the drive feels agonising. the driver is lovely, asking you what brings you here and why you're alone. you tell him you're visiting your boyfriend, and his face lights up. asking you questions, leaving you feeling even more agitated to get to him but enjoying every second of talking about chris to an outsider. in your entire two year relationship, this was the longest you had been apart and now you were here, mere moments away from seeing him, you realised how much your heart longed for him.

"well, here you go miss." the uber driver announces. theres a short pause before he speaks again. "is he famous, or something?" he asks, and you can't help the laugh that escapes you. you'd pulled up immediately outside the venue for tonights show, the tour bus peaking out from the side.

you turn and give the driver a wink. "or something."

he chuckles, shaking his head. "do you need help with your bags?" he asks as you open the passenger side door, the fresh air and sunshine hitting you immediately. but your heart stops at the sound of a familiar voice.

"Y/N?"

your head moves immediately, and you're greeted by none other than nick. you stop dead, heart racing in your ears. this was not meant to be how it planned out. you wanted to surprise them all. their manager had text just 5 minutes ago to say they were getting reading to go inside for a rehearsal, knowing fans would be outside the venue within the next couple hours.

"fuck" you whisper, before turning to the uber drive. "i'll be fine" you smile. "thank you so much" you say, reaching into your pocket and pulling out a note and tipping him generously. his eyes widen but you smile, rushing out of the car and facing your best friend.

"what, the actual, FUCK" he squeals, and then he's running over to you and he's lifting you the air, and the anxiety from moments before gone. you're laughing and squealing like a little girl and the familiar smell of his aftershave hits you in the nose.

"let me get my bags" you say, suddenly aware of the uber driver still being sat.

"fuck, let me get them." nick says, putting you down and walking immediately over to the back seat. you laugh, straightening out your hair thats now a mess atop your head, waiting for nick to grab your things. when he does, the uber driver driving off with a wave, nick has pulled you into an embrace once again.

"i thought you were meeting us in philly?" he says, suitcase discarded at the side of you. you laugh, pulling away from the hug.

"i've worked like a dog this week to get here early."

"fuck" nick says, "does chris know? he can't, he hasn't said anything."

you laugh, grabbing the handle bar of your suitcase. "no. and im glad he fell asleep early last night so he didn't suspect anything."

nick shakes his head, grabbing your luggage off of you. "okay, how are you doing this? where you just going to walk in?"

you look behind you now, ensuring that no one else is around, and you suddenly realise you have no idea. your brow furies, looking at the building in front of us and to the tour bus.

"where is he?" you ask.

"inside. oh god, y/n hes going to fucking freak." nick squeals, and you can't help but push your head back with laughter. butterflies where in your stomach, and you didn't care. you felt like this was the first time you were meeting him all over again, when he finally asked you on a date after flirtatious texts for over 3 months, but now he was yours. all yours.

"lets go inside then" you giggle. "before he comes out here and sees me first."

nick smirks, wrapping his free arm into yours and pulling you towards the back entrance of the theatre.

"gods," you say a few moments later. "theatres, nick. fucking theatres."

nick laughs, your suitcase echoing off the floorboards. but you didn't care. you weren't interested in a grand surprise, you just wanted to see him. he could walk around the corner now and you'd fling yourself in his arms faster than he could register it was even you.

"i know. have you seen anything online? its insane. truly insane."

you smile, because yes you had. every night, you'd get into bed and scroll until you found new posts. of course, chris updated you every evening anyway, but you wanted to see it. you wanted to hear the fans, see they smiling faces, you were beyond proud.

"every night. im so gutted i couldnt be here for chris' first surprise."

"you fucking knew?!" nick squeals now, looking at you. you squeeze his arm lightly as you laugh, turning a corner and entire the main theatre.

"of course i fucking knew" you laugh, eyes scanning the hundreds of chairs and the stage, already having been set up for the show later on. but your words fall short as you stop dead in your tracks.

"who knew what?" a voice says, walking up the side path to the door you'd just entered from. you hadn't seen him at first, your eyes preoccupied with your surroundings. he's looking down at his phone, typing away, clearly hearing your conversation but his brain not registering who it is.

but then he looks up, his hands immediately become slack. he searches your entire face, your body, your arm linked around nick, your suitcase still in nicks hand, and then his eyes fall back to you.

you don't even get chance to say hi, chris' phone crashes to the floor and arms have pulled you so deeply into his chest that you're both stumbling and almost about to hit the floor, a chair behind him steadying you both. his body, his arms, his smell. everything feeling immediately like home.

"what the actual fuck" he whispers into your ears, and then he pushes you backwards, pulling out of the hug and holding your shoulders, looking you up and down like he's never seen you before. "what the actual fuck, baby".

you smile, "hi."

"what the fuck" he repeats again, and then his lips are on yours, his hands are holding your face like he's never held it before.

"surprise" you whisper. his eyes are scanning your face, eyelids fluttering like crazy as they dart from side to side, and then he's laughing, his arms around your neck as he pulls you so close to him you can hardly breathe.

"oh my fucking god, squish" he says. his new but much loved pet name for you, clearly. "i missed you so so so much" he says, his lips now on the top of your head as he kisses you deeply. "so so so much" he utters again. when you lift your head to look at him, his lips crash to your own immediately. hard, tender, but full of love. "so much." he says again, into your lips this time, a whisper just for you.

"i missed you too." you whisper back, before kissing him once again.

"i guess i'll leave you both alone, then." you hear nick stutter, and you finally fall out of your chris struck embrace. turning to look at him, you're about to tell him not to be silly, you had missed nick too and where sure you'd find matt shortly, but chris answers for you.

"yeah, please."

you turn to give him an eye, but nick has held his hands in surrender and is already walking back through the door you just came through, muttering that he'll grab matt and go get coffees for you all. you call bullshit, knowing not a single one of them drinks coffee, but you laugh anyway as you watch chris intensely, his eyes following nick. when the click of the door shutting behind you sounds, echoing around the empty theatre room, chris lifts you into the arm. his hands coming to the back of your thighs, initiating for you to wrap your legs around his waist. you giggle, doing so immediately.

"what the fuck are you doing here, baby?" he asks now, not moving at all but your faces being mere inches apart. you chuckle, wiping a strand of his long hair from his eye.

"a surprise, i told you."

"what about work?"

"i finished it early. im sorry i couldnt be here for the surprise yesterday. i tried. so so hard. but-"

he shuts you off with a kiss. soft, gentle. "it doesn't matter about yesterday, you're here now. fuck." he groans. you didn't even realise he's spun around and is walking towards the stage, your legs still wrapped firmly around him. "what time was your flight?" he asks now.

"early hours." you chuckle.

"you hate night flights." he confirms, you only smile.

"when its for you, i dont mind."

he groans. and suddenly, the love and admiration is gone and instead theres pure lust in his eyes. before you know it, he's placed you down on the stage, your legs unwrapping from his waist as he slides you backwards, your sweatpants the perfect material for the clean stage floor, and chris stands himself perfectly in-between your legs.

"how did i get so lucky?" he whispers, before he latches himself to your neck. soft, gentle kisses, moving up to your jaw. "so fucking lucky" he whispers, his warm breath sending shivers down your entire body.

"chris" you whisper, as he goes back to your neck, his kisses wetter, a graze of his teeth.

"hmm" he mumbles, pushing his body closer to yours. the bulge in his pants connecting perfectly with your clothed centre. "whats wrong, baby?"

"nothing" you whisper, because fuck. you don't want him to stop. his hands have roamed under neath you sweatshirt, one of his he had left for you in his absence, of course, and his fingers trace lines underwear your bra. he groans, his lips parting from your lips a second. "i hate when you wear these things" he growls, before his lips connect to yours. you can't help yourself, and you pull him closer to you, your hands grabbing his t-shirt and twisting it perfectly so his chest collides with yours, his hand spreading across your boob and a chuckle escaping you.

"not even going to make it to the bunk, aye?" he whispers into your lips. a chuckle escapes you.

"you're the one with your hands roaming" you whisper.

his hand moves now, and before you know it he'd unclipped your bra from the back. a satisfied raise of his eyebrows and a smirk on his lips as he comes back round the front, hand connecting straight to your breast as your bra hung loose.

"you want me to stop?" he utters, fingers coming to your nipples and brushing softly. you try to stiffen the gasp that threatens to escape you, but when he brushes again, you can't. his dick twitches in his pants at the mere sound of your breathy voice. he smirks again, his eyes never leaving yours as he continues to tease you. "i didn't think so."

"what if someone walks in" you whisper. your eyes want to scan to the door nick just walked out of, but you can't stand your eyes off the sight of your boyfriend. his eyes, so blissfully blue under the stage lights.

"have to make it quick then, wont we princess?" he says.

suddenly your breast feels bare as his hand removes itself from your nipple, the loss of contact making you grumble. he chuckles as he reaches the waist band of your sweatpants.

"up" he demands, and you can't help yourself. you know its insane. his brothers could come back in any second, his management, someone who works at the theatre. but part of the thrill only adds to the heat inside you. you wrap your legs around his hips and use him as leverage to lift yourself up, a groan escaping him as he does so. "fuck" he mutters, and you know the gesture has turned him on even more, his hands making quick work of your waist band as he pulls down your sweatpants immediately. "fuck!" he mutters again, when he notices you aren't wearing underwear.

"no underwear, hmm?" he whispers as you place yourself back down on the stage, unwrapping your legs from him as he pulls them down, the cold floor on your bare skin sends a slight shiver down your spine, but you smirk anyway.

"you told me you were taking me straight to the bunk, did you not? thought i'd make the process easier for you." your hands roam to his own waistband. "your turn."

he can't even laugh. he can't even say a word. you've left him completely speechless. his mind on nothing but how badly he wanted you, not caring who saw you both or heard you both. he steps away from you now, your hands falling to your side as he's looking at your bare skin. his travelling from your knees to your thighs, before finally your soft cunt.

"oh, this is going to be over quickly, baby. you're dripping already." he says, hand on your knee as he pushes it to the side, opening your legs wider. he'd never seen such a beautiful sight as you took the opportunity to tease him further, leaning backwards onto your hands and spreading your legs even wider. his intake of breath tells you everything you need to know.

"your turn, i said."

his eyes snap to yours immediately, and you raise your eyebrow in response. he doesn't need to be told twice. you know what makes him tick, and its when the both of you fight for dominance. you always win. he can't help himself. but not today. he's determined to have you whimpering his name and hear it echoing across the empty theatre. when he stands on this stage later today, a crowd full of fans, he wants to look at this one spot you're sat on now and remember the way you unfolded for him.

his sweatpants are off in second, but you don't get a chance to say a word before he's stepping between your legs again, his fingers touching your folds immediately, with no warning. "fuck, chris" you say, and he smirks again.

"lets see if you can be quiet, princess." he utters, putting his hands underneath your thighs and gesturing for you to move forward. his height stood against the stage is perfect, and his cock touches your folds in seconds.

"maybe i dont want to be quiet" you whisper. there you were, fighting for that dominance, but he wasn't going to let you win.

"good. i want to hear my name loud and clear." he trusts into you with so much force you feel it in the pit of your stomach, a startle gasp coming out of your lips immediately. he wastes no time, his hips bucking into you at such a speed you can't catch your breathe. his thighs hit the front of the stage so hard every time he knows he's going to have bruises, but he doesn't care.

"missed you so fucking bad, babe." he says, hand on your back to support you as he drives into you hard. you can't speak, over a week without sex and you feel a sense of overwhelm you haven't felt in so long. you knew what he was doing. he wanted to see you squirm. he wanted to assure dominance. and fuck, you were going to have to give it him.

"fuck, chris" you whisper, looking down as his cock slides in and out of your pussy.

"you see that, babe? all mine. look what im doing to you." his forehead comes to yours, and your eyes look at him instantly. "thats it, pretty girl. eyes on me now."

"im gonna cum, chris. im sorr-"

"shush." he says, and the next thing you know his hands on your throat. "never say sorry. unfold for me, pretty princess."

"jesus, chris-" you can't get anymore words out as his hand squeezes on your throat. just how you liked it. enough to have you undone. you try so hard to hold it in, you've never come undone so quickly but as you stare deeply into his eyes, your hands coming to hold his wrist, confirming that he can squeeze tighter, his own groan tips you over the head.

"CHRIS" you can't help it, you shout his name so loud it echoes around the room, but you can't help the shaky laugh the overcomes you as chris too shouts your name, at exactly the same time. his last few thrust are sloppy, his hand around your throat squeezing one last time, before he uses his hand to pull your towards him, his lips crashing against yours in a panty, sweaty daze. just one kiss, but its hard and full of love and he lingers there for what feels like the entire world, and you love every second of it.

when he finally lets go, he rests his forehead on yours, his hand releasing from your throat, and you both let out a laugh.

"fuck sake, my girl." he says. my girl. you'd take him again there and then, no questions asked. but you lean forward, initiating the kiss this time, before wiping his hair off the sweat on his forehead.

"better get cleaned up, my boy. you never know who heard us."

he chuckles, kisses you once again before stepping backwards. he reaches down to the floor, giving you your sweatpants, thanking yourself for wearing your flared bottoms so they easily went over your shoes, and passes them to you.

"i dont give a fuck who heard, princess."

you groan, audibly. no fear laced through you. but he simply chuckles, pulling up his own sweatpants. taking a look at the both of you, you can't help but shake your head. you were like a pair of love struck teenagers.

you edge yourself forward, jumping off the stage, before putting on your sweatpants again. but when you rise your sweatshirt, or chris', over your shoulders, his eyes widen.

"again?" he says, heat flushing to his cheeks. you roll your eyes, turning around so he can see your back.

"you unclipped my bra, remember?"

he chuckles as he walks over to you, his soft hands brushing against your skin as he grabs both side, bringing them together. when they clasp, he leans down and presses a kiss to your back.

"i love you, so much."

you spin, wrapping your arms around his neck. "i love you, so much." you repeat back.

"round two. back bunk. in an hour." he smirks, giving your ass a squeeze. you let out a loud chuckle, head falling backwards at the same time the door opens, your name being screeched by the only triplet you'd yet to see.

__

the day continues in a blur. a blur of moans, sweat, and raspy breaths. by the time its time for chris to shower and head to the meet and greets, you're an overstimulated mess.

"im never leaving you again, babe. im like a dog on fucking heat." he whispers into your ear that final time. and you joke back with a slight nibble to his ear.

"shower, and i'll see you backstage." he mutters, and you do exactly that.

you're overwhelmed with love by the time the show comes to an end. you tried to keep yourself hidden, but once one whisper that chris' girlfriend had come to surprise him, you were spotted everywhere. but as the show went on, your eyes never leaving chris, you couldn't stop the pride that ran through your body. you had never loved somebody so much.

and chris looked up at you in the stands, watching you smile and giggle at the show, he too, was so certain he had never and would never love anyone as much as he did you.

[luvherguts]

thigh riding with jinx.

a/n: hi, i’m so sorry i took so long with this, school’s been kicking my ass. i really hate this but hope you enjoy !

mdni. attention whore jinx. mean reader (unnecessarily so). thigh riding (obv). pathetic jinx. not proofread! nsfw under the cut.

getting any sort of work done with jinx around usually proved to be quite difficult, but today was an entirely different situation. her usual quips had turned into snide remarks, and her fleeting touches into full blown groping. it was as if the girl was in fucking heat.

you’d been working on various projects with nearby deadlines, taking advantage of the little free time you were granted, what with college and work eating up the majority of your time. you had talked to jinx about this, about how you need to be spending your free time productively so as to not fall behind. and you assumed she understood, well, she said she did.

clearly the little compromise she had in her had been quickly used up, well before noon, which was exactly when she decided to make her way over to where you sat, eyes glued to your laptop as your fingers worked deftly against the keys, the methodical click! soothing, but robotic and unfeeling.

you paid the cobalt-haired girl hovering beside you no mind as you finally submitted your first project, internally applauding yourself for your hard work. it wasn’t until you felt cold, slender fingers moving gently along the expanse of your bare thigh, drawing designs and scratching against the soft skin, that you looked up to see your gorgeous, but very annoying girlfriend.

“yes, pretty girl?” you asked her, eyebrow cocked slightly as her hand kept playing your leg like a fiddle.

“what? can’t i just be close to my girlfriend?” she scoffs, avoiding eye contact. you knew she had no such innocent intentions. you had seen her thighs clenching since early that morning, likely due to a wet dream. she tended to get those quite often, and it was no surprise to you when you noticed a damp spot on her light grey panties when she arose from your shared bed. despite the temptation, you abstained, focusing completely on your study and work plan for the day.

jinx however, was not so determined to do anything productive, especially not with the throbbing in her cunt from the moment she woke up. she wanted you, she knew you knew it. so why were you torturing her?

“jinx,” you began sternly, “i’m busy. i told you, today is not the day for me to be dealing with your bullshit. i need to get this done.” she whined at your words, but retreated with a mumble under her breath you didn’t quite catch, likely a mockery of you in some shape or form.

3:15 p.m. the clock ticked methodically as you stretched your limbs. unbeknownst to you, jinx was watching you like a hawk. her eyes drifted from your outstretched arms to where your stomach had been exposed from under your t-shirt, her pupils dilating at the sight of your soft skin. she wanted your attention. she wanted you to make her feel good.

she huffed in annoyance as she hopped up off the couch, stalking towards you. “why are you ignoring me?” she asked, arms crossed and a childish pout sported on her slightly chapped lips.

you looked over at her, almost rolling your eyes at her petulance. “i’m not ignoring you, baby. i’m just busy today. don’t be a brat-” before you could finish your sentence, your chair was pushed out from under the table, and jinx plopped her ass down on one of your thighs.

“please, baby.” she whimpered, attempting to sport the most convincing puppy eyes she could muster.

“fuck, you’re such a slut” you complained, spanking one of her thighs. she moaned out at the feeling, hips immediately rolling against you, her sticky, panty-clad pussy rubbing up against your plush thigh.

you roll your eyes, but decide to compromise with her. it’s not like she was gonna wait any longer, especially not now that she’d gotten a taste of the pleasure you could give her.

“fine. but don’t you fucking dare interrupt me while i do this. you either get off on my thigh, alone, or you don’t cum at all. got it?” you spat, looking at her with faux abhorrence.

“yes, yes, thank you!” she panted, rolling her hips deftly against your thigh. you could feel her slick staining your skin. fuck, she was so wet. her pussy had always been the sloppiest you’d ever seen, but this was another level. clearly, your neglect had ridden her utterly desperate.

as you continued to work on your laptop, you listened to her moans and whimpers, until she groaned in frustration. suddenly, she lifted herself off of your thigh, shucking her pesky panties down her legs and off of her body completely, exposing her milky white cunt to the cold air. she shivered at the feeling of her swollen clit coming into contact with her surroundings, but she soon returned back to your thigh, moaning whorishly at the new, more intense sensation of her bare, creamy pussy against you.

she now rocked her hips with a newfound fervour, looking at your face, your disinterested gaze not looking onto hers even once. she whined at your ignorance, “please look at me”, she grabbed your jaw, turning your head to look at her disheveled appearance.

you ripped her hand away from your face angrily, face contorting into one she was slightly afraid of. you spanked her ass cheek harshly, scolding her for her disobedience. she physically retreated into herself at the harsh contact, you knew her tricks. you could feel her pussy clenching against your thigh at your cruelty.

“didn’t i tell you not to distract me? i generously gave you my thigh, even though i should have let you suffer by yourself, and this is how you repay me? by disobeying the one fucking order i gave you?” she couldn’t reply, slightly stunned by your poisonous words, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy it. her pussy gushed with a renewed stream of creamy arousal as she was pushed off of your leg, gasping as her ass pushed against the table.

you turn her around, pulling her back against your thigh, but this time she couldn’t directly look at you. “you’re gonna get off on my thigh, and you’re not gonna look at me once. i don’t give a fuck about what you need. i’m finishing my work, and you’re just gonna have to finish yourself off.”

she whimpered, but started grinding her tight little cunt against your thigh nonetheless. “yes, baby. i’m sorry”

“that’s what i thought” you scoffed, going back to your laptop. all jinx could do was cry out as she heard the click clack of the keyboard once again, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to change your mind.

hot tears streamed down her face as her pussy contracted and pulsed against you, rocking herself back and forth, side to side.

she prayed she’d be able to get herself to cum, eventually. poor baby.

[jellyfishoreo1206]

This is very self-indulgent after I just watched Pezzy playing Poppy Playtime Chapter 4. MY BOY DOEY DESERVED BETTER 😭😭😭

Platonic fluff! Sorry if this seems so short y'all

WARNING ⚠️: SLIGHT SPOILERS FOR THE NEW POPPY PLAYTIME CHAPTER

----

Every day that passed within the walls of this hell hole facility was filled with fear–everybody was on edge, with the smallest of sounds from the outer area of the Safe Haven sending terror throughout the toys, even you. You've seen what was out there, seen what awaits behind those gates–waiting...waiting for the chance that everybody's guard is down.

With a pained sigh, you push yourself up from the bedroll despite the ache that shoots throughout your chest–no use in sleeping when the growing hunger and dark memories are plaguing your thoughts. But what to do?

The Medic said you should rest, but no matter how many times you adjusted yourself or stayed still, sleep was nowhere to be found...and when you did sleep, the nightmares plagued every inch of your unconscious mind–fallen friends you could've saved, the Prototype finally getting into the Safe Haven, succumbing to the starvation...

Or worse, becoming so hungry you eat your friends.

...

No. That won't happen. Never will happen.

With a quick look outside the tent flaps, one thing you noticed was the dimmed lights–"nighttime" within the Safe Haven. Normally the other toys would be too anxious to go to sleep, but it seems like it was one of those rare days where everyone turned in for the night.

Though, one light seemed to have stayed on...the generator room's light, a stark contrast compared to the dim setting of the Safe Haven.

The only people who hanged out in the generator room were two people–Poppy, and Doey. With another quick scan of the Safe Haven, you spot Poppy and Kissy in their tent on the other side of the room, huddled close to one another. So that left one person left.

It's very usual for Doey to be in the generator room often anyway–anxiously checking if the generator had succumbed to anything bad. But never at this hour does he check.

...At least you hoped he didn't.

The amount of pressure Doey had been under for the last few days has left you more worried for him than ever. You tried to help shoulder the weight of all the responsibilities that weighed him down but he was stubborn–believing it being a burden that no one else should carry but him, the person who everyone looks up to.

Though the more responsibilities that pile up on his plate, the more he likely he'll drown in the stress and worrying of everyone's safety.

That's Doey for you, always worrying and caring for others before himself.

Well, might as well find out what he's up to.

Climbing out your tent, taking a quick moment to breath when the pain in your chest flared, you quietly made your way over to the lit room. At the doorway, you could hear the distinct mumbling of Doey and the sound of the generator door hinge softly closing shut. It seems he was checking on the generator, but why at this time?

"Doey?" He jumps at the sound of your voice, turning around in surprise to see who else was up at this time. He looks absolutely exhausted –you didn't even know the doughman could even have eyebags. Just how long has it been since he's last slept?

"Y/n! What are you doing up? You should be resting!" He frets in concern, fully turning away from the generator and towards you to check you over for any injuries. Always worrying for others, typical Doey. "Especially since that recent scouting mission of yours." He adds, doughy hands on his hips as he gave you a look of disappointment and anxiousness.

The mention of what you gained while scouting gave a dull pulse along the skin of your chest, but you ignored it in favor of what was happening now. You quirked an eyebrow at him, "You're worried about me? Doey, you of all people should be asleep right now." Hell, his eyes are barely open! They look like they are several seconds away from closing shut.

"I'm fine."

"We both know that's full of—"

"Language!"

"Sorry, sorry–it's just," You struggle to find the certain words to describe what you are trying to say, the both of you had this argument conversation several times before! And everytime he brushes it off as if his well-being doesn't matter, "-I just hate seeing you like this. I-I know you wanna make sure the others are okay and I understand that! But you're also ignoring your own needs!"

You gesture to his face, "Hell! When was the last time you got proper rest?" He opens his mouth to respond, but flatters, mulling over the question in his mind.

"I'm...not sure." He hesitantly responds, looking back towards the generator with slight confusion. How much time did he spend checking the generator?

"Then let's get you to bed, big guy." Placing a hand on his arm, you attempted to gently coax him out the room and into the direction of his unused tent, "Can't think if you're too tired to come up with a single coherent thought." You jest lightly.

Doey's face is unreadable–was he going to interject again? But he merely gave a heavy sigh, exhaustion clearly seen in his expression and body. "Maybe you're right.." Yes! Finally you got through to him and that thick doughy head of his!

"Let's get you to bed, big guy."

He merely mumbles, eyes slipping shut before rapidly blinking open, following your led as his foot steps fill the haven with the soft sound of thuds.

"Y/n?"

"Yeah?"

"..do you mind staying with me?"

"Don't mind at all, Doey."

"Thank you."

"Always happy to help, Doey."

[joudeq]

sukuna x reader

~ strong enough

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sukuna x concubine!reader

tags - oneshot / fluffy sukuna / true form sukuna / x reader / no smut just SICKENING angst and fluff also a kiss at the end

a/n - uh for those of you who saw my deleted fic haha no u didnt (i got nervous)

context - hes been ignoring you for weeks, focusing most of his attention onto his other concubines

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The air is electric, charged with the weight of Sukuna’s presence as he stands before you, his silhouette sharp and commanding under the dim light. His usual arrogance clings to him like a second skin—the way he holds himself, the tilt of his head, the slight curl of his lips that speaks of unchecked power. But there’s something in the way his crimson eyes rest on you tonight. They’re unreadable, and yet, their intensity makes it impossible to look away.

He doesn’t speak immediately. He lets the silence stretch, lets it coil around you both like a predator toying with its prey. When he finally breaks it, his voice is smooth, deep, and cold enough to cut stone. “You know, this is beneath me,” he says, his tone casual, almost bored. But there’s a weight behind it, an edge that suggests something far more serious.

His eyes flicker, just briefly, to your expression, as if gauging your reaction without making it obvious. Then he steps closer, and the space between you seems to shrink under the gravity of his presence. “But I’m here, aren’t I?” he continues, his words measured, calculated. “If that doesn’t tell you enough, maybe you don’t deserve the effort.”

He doesn’t bother to explain himself, doesn’t offer any justification for the rare sight of him lowering himself to address you like this. But the unspoken hangs heavy between you—the memories of the lengths he’s gone for you, the blood he’s spilled, the way his wrath has spared no one except you.

“You can sulk, you can rage,” he says, his tone sharper now, though his expression remains unreadable. “But don’t think for a second you’ll find someone else who would dare cross me the way you have and live to tell about it.”

Sukuna takes a step back, crossing his arms, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly as they lock onto yours. There’s no apology in his words—none that he’ll admit to, at least. But in the tautness of his jaw, in the way he hasn’t left, in the sheer fact that the King of Curses is even acknowledging your ire, there’s a silent message he won’t say aloud.

For a moment, his eyes flicker with something close to frustration, a brief slip that he quickly hides. He crosses his arms, his gaze narrowing in irritation. But there’s an unspoken hesitation in the way he waits for you to respond. His usual impenetrable mask falters slightly, and for a brief second, you catch the faintest glimmer of something… almost vulnerable.

“Tell me,” he suddenly asks, his tone harder now, but there’s an edge of something more petty buried in the words, like a child not getting their way. “What exactly did I do wrong? What’s so unforgivable that I’m here, standing like a fool?” His voice has taken on an unexpected, almost whiny quality toward the end, like he’s trying to hold onto his dignity but can’t quite keep the frustration from seeping through.

His arms drop to his sides, the tension in his posture increasing, his eyes burning into yours, as if daring you to offer an answer that would let him off the hook. But even though he’s trying to maintain his usual cold exterior, his patience is wearing thin, and the subtle flicker of his irritation becomes clearer. He won’t admit it outright, but for once, Sukuna seems to care—at least, enough to make this effort.

You know Sukuna better than most, don't you? You've seen glimpses behind that arrogant facade, the rare moments when he lets his guard down. And maybe, just maybe, that's why you're angry now. Because he's shown you enough to make you crave more, to make you believe that there's something real beneath all the cruelty and sadism.

But he's still Sukuna, the relentless, ruthless force of nature. And he's standing here now, awaiting your response, his patience wearing thin.

So you put him out of his misery.

"You want to know what you did wrong?" you ask, your voice trembling slightly but never losing that underlying strength. "You betrayed me, Sukuna. You betrayed my trust, my feelings..." Your voice cracks, just a little, but you push on. "You treated me like a toy, a plaything, something for you to use and discard as you saw fit."

You step closer, until you're standing right in front of him, your body almost brushing against his. You have to crane your neck to maintain eye contact, but you don't back down. "I'm not just your favorite concubine, Sukuna. I'm not a prize to be won or a possession to be claimed." Your voice is low, intense, filled with a raw, honest emotion that even Sukuna can't ignore.

"And this..." You gesture around at the opulent room, the lavish mansion that surrounds you both. "This isn't enough! Throwing money at a problem doesn't make it go away."

His eyes narrow as the concubine speaks, a muscle in his jaw twitching slightly at the raw emotion in your voice. He listens, really listens, in a way that's rare for the man who sees most people as beneath him. When you finish, he's silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

"You think I don't know that?" he asks finally, his voice low and rough with an emotion he rarely allows himself to feel. "You think I don't see the way you look at me, like I'm a monster, a beast that can't be tamed?" He reaches out, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing away the single tear that escapes down your soft skin.

Sukuna's eyes search yours, his gaze intense and consuming. "I'm not a good man, angel. I've done things, terrible things, that you can't even begin to imagine." His voice is low, almost a whisper, and there's a hint of something almost like vulnerability in his tone. "But with you... with you, it's different."

His other hand comes up to cup your other cheek, cradling your face in his large hands.

"I'm... I apologise, my dear. I was merely trying to protect you from myself."

You lean into his touch, despite your anger and hurt, finding a strange comfort in the warmth of his palms against your cheeks. You look up at him, your faces close enough that you can feel his breath on your skin.

"Protect me?" you ask softly, a hint of a sad, incredulous laugh in your voice. "By keeping me in the dark, by shutting me out and pushing me away?" You shake your head slightly, your hair brushing against his hands. "That's not protection, Sukuna. That's fear."

You reach up, your small hands covering his larger ones on your cheeks. You could pull them away, could push him back, but your doesn't. Instead, you hold them there, anchoring yourself to the man you've come to love.

Sukuna's eyes flicker with a complexity of emotions he rarely allows himself to feel. His grip on your cheeks tightens slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to hold you in place as he grapples with your words. When he speaks, his voice is low and rough, like he's forcing the words out through a clenched throat.

"You think you're ready? You think you can handle the darkness that follows me like a shadow?" There's a harsh edge to his tone, a challenge, but beneath it, a flicker of something almost like fear. Fear of your rejection, of losing the one person who sees beyond the monster to the man beneath.

His thumbs brush over the soft skin of your cheeks, a gesture almost reverent in its gentleness. "I've seen the world burn, angel. I've watched innocent lives be torn apart, all for the sick amusement of lesser beings than myself." His jaw clenches, his eyes hardening at the memories.

"But with you... with you, it's different." He leans in closer, until your foreheads are almost touching, until you can feel the heat of his breath on your lips as he speaks again. "You make me want to be better, to try to be worthy of the faith you have in me." He closes his eyes, just for a moment, a rare show of vulnerability. "But I don't know if I can be, beautiful. I don't know if I'm strong enough to protect you from the darkness in me."

Your heart races as he leans in closer, his words sending a shiver down your spine. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, can see the turmoil swirling in his crimson eyes. It would be easy to get lost in those eyes, to let them consume you, but you know you have to stay strong. For both of them.

You reach up, your hand cupping his cheek, your thumb brushing over the small scar just below his eye. It's a gesture of comfort, of understanding, and perhaps a silent promise. Your voice is soft but filled with conviction as you speak.

"Sukuna, listen to me. I'm not asking you to be perfect." You take a deep breath, your eyes never leaving his. "I'm asking you to be honest, to trust me with the truth of who you are. The good, the bad, and everything in between." You lean in closer, until your lips are a mere breath away from his.

"I love you, Sukuna. All of you."

Sukuna's eyes widen almost imperceptibly at your words, a flicker of something raw and unguarded passing over his face. He's not used to such open, unconditional acceptance. In a world of fear and hatred, your love is a foreign language, one he's struggling to understand but desperate to learn.

He squeezes your hand, his calloused fingers engulfing your softer ones, as if trying to anchor himself to you in the storm of emotions you've stirred up. When he speaks, his voice is low and rough, but there's a new softness to it, a gentleness he's never allowed himself to express before.

"I... I love you too, angel." The words feel foreign on his tongue, clumsy and awkward, but no less true for their awkwardness. "I don't know if I deserve it, but... I'm going to try. I'll try to be the man you think I can be." He leans in, closing the scant distance between them to capture your lips in a kiss that's filled with all the pent-up passion and longing he's kept hidden for so long.

As he kisses you, his arms wrap around you, pulling you close to his hard, muscular body. He pours everything he's feeling into that kiss - his fear, his love, his desperate hope for a future he never dared to dream of before. And he knows, with a bone-deep certainty, that no matter what challenges lie ahead, they'll face them together.

Because in the end, it's not about being perfect. It's about being strong enough to love, flaws and all. And Sukuna, for the first time in his long, bloody life, feels like he might just be strong enough for that.

Strong enough for you.

[muniimyg]

3: the favourite snacks // series m.list

note: ohhh... it's kinda cute here ;) how are we liking them? lmk ur thoughts! oc's moment to shine is coming soon !!!

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//

As usual, Jungkook interrupts your reading time. Before, it didn’t mean much. Before, he would quietly sit beside you and mind his own business until he got out of his mind bored. Then, he would bug you and you would have no choice but to put your book down. You didn't mind it before. Before, it was whatever.

However, the scene is different today.

Today, he ran to the library after his lecture and couldn’t find you. Disappointed, Jungkook turned his heels to head home… But as fate would have it; he found you along the way.

At the sight of you, right then and there, Jungkook decided that this was his favourite season. 

The season of you.

How could it not be when this… You… Are just so beautiful? As you sit on the grass, leaning against the tree trunk, the wind gently blows cherry blossom petals around you. It’s beautiful. It looks magical.. Like it was fake. I mean, it had to be right? You look so perfect. It looks like those made-up scenes in movies. Jungkook rubs his eyes to make sure it isn’t. This is real life. 

This is you. 

However, his dream-like state of mind is shaken awake when he approaches you, and you refuse to give him the time of day.

First, he stands in front of you and greets you warmly. You ignore him. Then, he sits down beside you and nudges you. Even though your body moves to his push, you still remain silent. Now, this is his last attempt before he loses his mind. 

Jungkook inches closer to you. You sit still, doing your best not to move away. You have to stay put. You have to stand your ground! But life gets 10 times more difficult because he smells so good. As he leans forward, he fixes your hair, and you're awestruck. He tucks your hair behind your ear, sending chills down your spine. You swear it’s just the cool breeze, but you know in your heart it’s him. 

He makes your heart race. 

He smells good.

He looks good, too.

It's no wonder your body betrays you. You squirm from his touch, unable to hold yourself still. It’s gentle and light—but it’s just so ticklish! As you react, Jungkook offers a smug smile. In return, you push his hand away and huff at him. 

“I’m not talking to you.”

Jungkook’s smile drops. 

“What? Why?” His mind spins with confusion. Meanwhile, you keep a straight face and go back to reading. “What did I do?”

Keeping your book up, you answer him without really answering him.

“You know what you did.”

Jungkook thinks for a moment. What could he have done? The last time he saw you was a few days ago. You two met up to have a quick study session together. It was the same routine! What could he have done wrong since then? Rather, what did he do wrong then?

“... I’m not really sure what I did wrong… Can I have a hint or something?” His tone is genuine and curious, making it harder for you to dish-out your anger.

So, you don’t respond.

Impatient and annoyed at your pettiness, he grabs your book and lowers it to see your face. 

Infuriated, you whine. “Hey! I’m reading—”

“—And I’m trying to talk to you.” Jungkook snaps. "Come on, ___. What's going on? Talk to me, please."

You glare at him, completely baffled at his audacity. Does he seriously think that he can play dumb? He can't. You won't let him.

“Well, I’m not talking to you.”

With an eyebrow raised, he speaks out his thoughts. “Why not? I don’t think I did anything wrong—”

“You lied to me!” You blurt. “You lied to me, and you know it. I looked so stupid!”

Jungkook’s throat feels dry. 

Lied to you?

About what?

He tries to run everything he has ever said to you back. He tries to remember everything from the moment you two first met to this very moment now… Every story he has ever said and every tiny side comment—yet, he can’t think of a time he was dishonest. He had no reason to lie to you! Talking to you is so easy because you’re such a good listener. If anything, talking to you has compelled him to be more honest… Jungkook reflects and concludes: no. He is not a liar. Besides, it’s not like he was hiding anything—

“You can skate,” you reveal. 

Jungkook blinks.

“Who told you?”

Fed up, you shove your book to Jungkook's chest. He lets it hit him and drop before reaching for your hands. Quickly, you swipe them away from him. No way is he holding your hand! Not after all the crap he just pulled.

Crossing your arms, you begin to confront him. “Yoongi and Jin were drinking last night. They called me and teased me about how dumb I was… How naive I was because you knew how to skate the entire time! I took the time to teach you how to skate because you kept falling—a-and to what? Find out you were pretending the entire time? W-why would you do that? Why would you lie to me?” 

Oh, it’s bad. 

It’s pathetically horrible how Jungkook is so into you right now.

It melts his heart how you could be this serious and hurt over this little fib. This has to be the cutest thing you could ever do… Be mad at him for wanting to hold your hand just because he was mischievous about it. 

He wants to laugh. He wants to tell you that you’re cute and the entire thing was just a stupid boy-coded play… But, considering how bruise-hearted you’re acting… Jungkook thinks twice about it. 

Then, he decides to give in and abide by your needs. 

Answers.

You want answers and answers is what he’ll give you. 

“First of all: you’re not dumb,” Jungkook reassures you. You make a sour face and shake your head at him.

Groaning, you tell him: “Yes, I am! I looked like a total idiot trying to teach you how to skate when you’re literally a hockey player—”

“Second, I’m not a hockey player,” he chuckles. 

With a half smile, you return: “Right… You’re just a liar.”

Okay. 

… He deserved that. 

Jungkook doesn’t know what to say or do… Honestly, what are you supposed to say or do? The issue is ridiculous but at the same time, he understands you feel deceived. So… now what? 

Honesty. 

“Okay… I admit it,” Jungkook sighs, accepting his defeat. “I lied to you about not knowing how to skate. I’m a liar. I’m sorry—”

“Ah ha!” you point your finger at him. Then, you poke his chest. “That's why I’m not talking to you—”

“But I’m apologizing—”

You shush him. “Doesn’t matter. At least, not right now. Like... Oh my goodness, Jungkook! I’m so embarrassed! It’s bad enough that—”

“—That I like you?” Jungkook interrupts you. You’re tongue-tied, unable to find words to deny or confirm. With shaky eyes, he does his best to look at you with the sincerest gaze. “I refuse to apologize for my feelings."

"It's not about your feelings—"

Jungkook plays smart. He's all in anyways. "Okay. Fine, it's not about my feelings. It's about yours, okay? ___, I’m sorry, okay? I just wanted to hold your hand… Is it that bad? Am I that awful for wanting to hold your hand?”

Slowly, you shake your head. You didn't meant to make him feel bad about his feelings for you! That wasn't the point. The point was... Well..

Oh, god.

What was the point again?

Your words beat your thoughts. “N-no… I just… I don’t understand why you didn’t just tell me.”

Jungkook looks at you softly, and it makes your heart stumble. Booping your nose, his lips curve into a smirk.

“It’s called flirting, dummy.”

“Hmph,” you pout, turning your face away from him. Under your breath, you mutter, “... So you’re calling me dumb too, huh?”

Jungkook panics. “W-what? No! That’s not what I—”

Without much thought, he grabs your hand and squeezes it. You turn to him, eyeing the way he’s holding your hand. You send him a look, and immediately, he drops your hand and puts it up in surrender. Then, he reaches for his backpack and unzips it. 

“Look! I know my apology doesn’t mean much to you right now, but it’s true. I am so sooo sorry, ___. I’ll deal with the guys. I’ll tell them to shut up and drop it. You’re not dumb—okay?” Jungkook digs inside his backpack and pulls out a plastic bag filled with various items. “Snacks! I was at the convenience store... Then, I suddenly thought of you. So, I bought your favourite snacks. Then I headed to the library but then you weren’t there… And now I’m here—a-and there’s so many! So many snacks, ___! There’s banana milk, some Yakult, and oh, I even bought that cup with the fancy ice—”

“... Is that pocky?” You shift, taking a small peek.

Jungkook’s eyes light up. He nods, shaking the bag in front of you. “Almond crush… Cos I have a crush on you—” You sit up and send him a warning look. Jungkook leans his body back and laughs. “Okay, okay, okay! Sorry! Almond crush is for me… The strawberry pocky is for you… Your favourite, cutie.”

Biting your bottom lip, you give in.

Your heart can refuse Jungkook, but it remains powerless against strawberry pocky. Jungkook takes out your strawberry pocky first. You’re drooling at this point… Before you can hold your hand out and ask for the pocky, Jungkook already opens it for you. When he successfully gets through the box and rips the wrapper, he offers the pocky to you as a peace offering. 

Unspoken, he knows he’s forgiven the minute you take it from his hands. 

Yet, he plays it safe. He waits for you to get a few bites in and for the smile on your face to appear. Once it does, he smiles cheekily at you. 

“Still mad at me?”

Between chews, you reply, “Let me think..."

"Whatever you need to do, my smart girl."

You shove a few more pieces of pocky in your mouth. After you chew and he laughs at you, you voice your decision.

"Nope... Not mad at you anymore. We’re good.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes as he reaches for the top of your head. He ruffles your hair and continues to laugh to himself… Perhaps, it wasn’t just about the lie. You were hangry. Mentally, he notes to always keep strawberry pocky in his bag. In case of future screw-ups or of hangry ___ moments. 

When he’s sure your mood has improved completely, he opens his pocky. 

You watch as he does so. Jungkook takes a bite out of his pocky stick and moans in approval. As he eats, he takes a moment to look out at the view of the rest of the field. Jungkook takes it all in. Other students are sitting on the grass, under the other cherry blossom trees, and even playing. It's a calm late afternoon, and he can't help but think about how much he likes this moment.

How the raspberry lemonade sky is peering over the horizon. How you're beside him. How cool the spring breeze is... It just feels so good to be with you.

“This is a nice spot!" He tells you. "I like the view. I like you—"

"You're ruining my peace," you complain. Shutting your eyes, you focus on the pocky. "But yeah, it's a nice spot. I found it while I had that whole week of avoiding you."

Jungkook laughs. "So I found your new hideout? Sorry, not sorry."

You shrug and point at the Yakult inside the bag. He digs in the bag and takes it out. Like the pocky, he prepares it before giving it to you. When he hands you the drink, you take a sip.

"Can this be our spot?"

You choke.

Jungkook's shoulders drop, finding it hilarious and also a little offending at the same time. Was it really this hard to flirt with you? Are you this childish? He never noticed.

It's annoying that his feelings only grow even more.

"Oh my god," he moves closer to you and pats your back. You take another sip to help relieve your throat. As you recover, he lectures you. "Fine. You can have this damn spot."

When he moves back to his spot, you sit and stare at him. Jungkook continues to eat his pocky. Moving on, he pushes the conversation forward.

"Ahh, I forgot how good this is. Almond is the best.” 

You tilt your head at him, wondering what it’s like to be completely wrong about a simple thing. It's like all your pressing thoughts dismissed themselves.

“Strawberry is better,” you claim. You say it rather simply. You say it honestly.

Jungkook copies your head tilt. 

“Strawberry is overhyped,” he argues with you. “Almond is more expensive. The ingredients are more worth it. It’s not just a fruit-flavored cream—”

You huff at him. “Strawberry is not overhyped! Just because it’s cheaper doesn’t mean it’s worth less—”

“Actually… It does.”

The anger that you had earlier? The one that went away? Yeah… It’s back. 

Fuming, you begin your rant. “Strawberry is classic. Almond was made because people got bored of chocolate, so they added almonds to trick people into thinking it was completely different… It's the same thing! Strawberry is an original flavour like—” As you explain, you put another stick in between your lips and suck on the cream. “Mhmm! It’s the best—”

Your words cut off. 

Not because Jungkook retaliates. 

Not because you’re chewing your pocky. 

No. 

It’s because Jungkook dips his head low and takes a bite out of the other end of your pocky stick. He pulls away rather quickly, but it happens… 

It happened. 

His lips brushed against yours. 

Oh my god. 

Jeon Jungkook kissed you! 

Wide-eyed, you pause for a second. Then, you panic. “W-what—”

“Mhmm.. I guess it’s okay,” Jungkook swallows his bite. “I think I still like—”

“Y-you kissed me!” you exclaim, bringing your hands to your lips. 

Jungkook blinks at you.

“No, I didn’t.”

“J-Jungkook," you breathe, “are you gaslighting me? You literally just kissed me!”

Your mind is spinning.

How the heck did that just happen? One second you’re defending strawberry pocky with your life, and the next… You feel more alive than ever. Jungkook has always been sneaky, but you never expected this. It was so innocent yet so mischievous—you have no words!

Perhaps, your inability to explain how you truly feel is what frustrates you and causes you to sound so naggy. 

On the other hand, Jungkook knew exactly what he was doing. He has no issues facing the repercussions. In his heart, he knows he’s just following it… So, why does it matter? This is him taking a chance. This is him… Winning. 

This is you folding. 

“___, that was not a kiss.” Jungkook reasons with you. “Why? Are you upset because you wanted it to be?"

No words. 

"It's okay to be disappointed," he adds. "I'm disappointed you don't want to share this spot with me. The library is boring as fuck so I don't really want it to be our spot, you know—"

“Y-you’ve got to be k-kidding me!” you cry. “Leave the library alone, you hater."

"... Okay?" Jungkook snickers. "You're greedy today. Do you always have to be right? Is that a thing I should know about you, future girlfriend?"

"Future what?" your eyes bulge. "O-okay, fine. Fine! You win. It wasn’t a kiss. It was horrible anyway. I expected more—”

Jungkook squints at you. “We didn’t even kiss, and you’re already accusing me of being a bad kisser? Damn, at least let me prove you wrong.”

Shaking your head profusely. “T-that’s not what I’m saying! I’m sure you’re an excellent kisser—in fact, I should brace myself, right? B-because you’re probably going to kiss me one of these day, and I’ll—”

“Do you want me to kiss you?”

You pause. 

“W-what?”

“You heard the question,” Jungkook inches closer to you. In your mind, your body stiffens… In reality, you’re melting. Your body slightly leans in towards him and Jungkook has to bite his lip to stop himself from smiling. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

“Y-you already did.”

“You said it wasn't a kiss... Who's the liar now?"

You stay silent. Partly because you have no words and partly because you're afraid of what will happen if you don't speak.

Jungkook presses on. "You’re not answering my question…”

Silence.

Then, as he speaks again, you realize you're stuck either way… You’re too shy to actually say the words, but he will take your silence, and find the truth. Or... You can say it for yourself. So, okay.

Fine.

You give in.

“Y-you can do what you want. I just… I thought you already kissed me.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes at you for the second time this afternoon. “No, silly… If I kissed you, it would’ve been like this—”

Before you know it, it happens. 

It really happens. 

Soft, slow, and sweetly—Jeon Jungkook kisses you.

He kisses you under the cherry blossom tree with the raspberry lemonade sky above, and the spring breeze. He kisses you until you can't breathe, and your heart falls for him. Jungkook kisses you in your spot.

The spot.

Yours and his.

[iraot]

Word Count: 8,420 Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, gentleman Xavier, yearning, true love, breeding, office romance, mating bonds, stupid government, A/N: I wanted to get this out before I went to work! thank you @hyyih once again for the speedy editing ;-; i appreciate you. <3

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿

The steady hum of keyboards clicking filled the office, punctuated by the occasional rustle of paper or the low murmur of conversation. It was the last hour of the workday, unarguably, the longest hour of the day, just as painfully lasting as the one right before lunch. Most of their department was already mentally checked out, eyes drifting toward the clock, fingers hovering over their shutdown sequence.

She was no exception. Xavier, however, was still focused. His sharp blue eyes scanned the report on his screen. He leaned back slightly in his chair, the dim overhead light casting a soft shadow over the sharp angles of his face. He looked so effortlessly composed, as he always did—his golden blond hair slightly tousled, the open collar of his button-down revealing just enough skin to make it unfairly distracting.

She tried not to stare.

It wasn’t easy.

Her heat was coming, that much she knew, and it was usually around these times that she had a difficult time tearing her eyes away from the Alpha she would prefer to be spending the week with. She’d been working in this office for three years now, and, for the last year, Xavier had been the quiet, persistent ache in the back of her mind. It wasn’t just his looks—though those certainly didn’t hurt—it was the way he carried himself. Confident, without arrogance. Smart, but never condescending. He had a dry wit that made their endless meetings bearable and a way of making even the most frustrating workdays feel lighter.

And, most importantly, he treated her like a person first. Not just an Omega. That was increasingly rare. Due to the politics surrounding her biological imperative there had been many people who thought Omegas shouldn’t be in the workforce. Citing it as a public health hazard and instead of offering social reform to amend laws to make life easier for Omega’s to live their life the way they wanted; they wanted to cage them. Force them into mating bonds the moment they were able to, and keep them bred and at home where they belong.

The notion alone disgusted her, it was enough to put her off, settling down entirely. Though, there was something about him that made her want it. The quiet moments, the peace, the talks they had at work weren’t enough—but she could never bring herself to say anything.

She couldn’t lose her only confidant at work, not when everything about her employment was looking so bleak.

“Counting down the minutes?”

His voice pulled her from her thoughts, smooth and knowing. She blinked up at him to find his gaze already on her, one brow arched in lazy amusement.

She huffed a soft laugh, shaking her head. “A little. Not that I don’t love spending my evenings drowning in spreadsheets.”

He smirked—it was tragic and she felt a flare of heat through her as she shook her head. “Tragic. And here I was, about to ask if you’d wanted to stay late and review quarterly earnings with me.”

She groaned dramatically, setting a hand over her heart. “Tempting. Really. But, unfortunately, I have very important plans that involve getting the hell out of here and not thinking about work for the next week.”

His smirk deepened. “Right. You leave starts tomorrow.” His fingers drummed idly against the desk, thoughtfully. “Where are you escaping to?”

Her stomach flipped, and she ignored the curl of heat in her lower belly. A subtle but sharp reminder of why she was really taking time off.

“Nowhere exciting,” she said lightly, trying to keep her voice even. “Just...home.”

His gaze lingered for a second too long, like he was about to ask something else—but then his attention was pulled away by an email notification, and, just like that the moment passed.

She let out a slow breath. This couldn’t be over soon enough.

Xavier knew she was an Omega, it wasn’t a secret. Though they never talked about it, not directly anyway. He wasn’t one of those Alphas who made a big deal about it, who got weird or awkward. He just treated her like a normal coworker, a normal person. And she really liked that about him.

It was one of the reasons her stupid, quiet little crush had bloomed in the first place. Because it wasn’t just that he was attractive ( he was very much so ), it was that he saw her. Though, none of that mattered. She was about to spend the next several days in heat—alone with some guy named Thomas, and when she came back, things would go right back to normal.

Or, at least, that was the plan.

The plan was simple: finish up the last of her tasks, pack up and get the hell out before anything became noticeable.

Except, as always, life had other plans.

Just when she had thought she was in the clear a last-minute request landed in her inbox, courtesy of her team lead, along with a painfully apologetic message about it just needing a quick once-over before EOD.

Which, of course, meant she was staying late. Just her luck; she had been anticipating this even if she hadn’t wanted to admit it to herself. The office that was once bustling was slowly being filtered out, one person after the other–some staying late just like her only to end up leaving well before her. Something that grated on her nerves more than she’d like to let on, but the frustration of her impending heat wasn’t helping matters.

By the time she was finally shutting down her system, the office was quiet. The usual chatter and clicking of keyboards had faded, replaced with the distant hum of the air conditioning. Most of their coworkers had filtered out ages ago, leaving only the faint glow of a few monitor screens still powered on.

And Xavier.

She glanced over at him, still at his desk, sleeves rolled up as he frowned at the screen, his fingers typing something out at a steady pace.

Of course, he was still there.

Unlike her, he actually chose to stay late most nights. Something about “I’d rather get it done now than deal with it tomorrow.”

It was a little annoying how responsible he was.

She shook her head, standing with a stretch. Her body felt uncomfortable, warm, heat curling through her like an ember waiting to ignite.

Too soon.

Too strong.

Her heat wasn’t supposed to hit yet—she had time. But the way her skin prickled, her pulse quickened, and the unmistakable ache that settled low in her belly said otherwise. She closed her eyes, taming her breathing, she had to make it home—once she got there she’d be fine.

No. Not now.

Forcing a breath, she ignored the way her scent felt thicker in the air, more potent, before grabbing her bag. Maybe, if she left now, she could make it home before it really hit. Though the idea of driving home was making her feel sick, all she wanted was her nest she’d been working on for the last month. Building it up, filling it out with stuffed animals and pretty blankets. Making sure to have lots of options when the others got too messy, as they always did.

‘Just a little longer,’ she pleaded internally.

“Finally escaping?”

Xavier’s voice made her jump. She turned to see him leaning back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head. The motion pulled his shirt taut across his chest and fuck, that wasn’t helping.

She swallowed hard, “Yeah. I‘d have gone earlier, but someone decided to throw a last-minute file at me.”

Xavier huffed a laugh, “Gotta love corporate efficiency.”

She shrugged before smiling, adjusting the strap of the bag on her shoulder. She could feel her heartbeat in her throat now, her skin flushed–too warm. She needed to go. But as she took one step toward the door, the overhead lights flickered once. Then, a low mechanical chime echoed through the space, followed by an automated voice:

“Lock down protocol engaged. Please remain in designated areas until further notice.”

Her blood ran cold.

NO. No, no, no—

A second later, the doors locked with a resounding clunk.

Her breath hitched in her throat as she dropped her bag by her feet. This was the worst possible situation for her to be in right now, and she was going to be too hazed out in the next couple hours to even feel mortified about how she was acting.

Xavier stood, brows furrowed. “What the hell?”

She knew what.

Pheromone detection. A security system meant to prevent Alphas from going feral at the scent of an Omega in heat. Specifically, work buildings or big offices like these. When there were typically more than one Alpha in close proximity to an Omega in heat, especially unmated ones, it could get dangerous really fast. A precaution meant to protect people.

A precaution that had just trapped them inside the office together.

Xavier turned to her, something sharp and assessing in his gaze now, his nostrils flaring slightly as realization set in. Her stomach felt like it was about to fall to the floor.

The silence between them was drawn out in an agonizing way, thick with the weight of realization. Her stomach coiled tight, anticipation and fear tangling together in a sickening knot as she took an instinctive step back. Xavier didn’t move. Not immediately. He was still staring at her, processing, his sharp blue eyes darkening fractionally as his nostrils flared again—taking in a scent she knew was getting stronger by the second.

Shit.

She clenched her fists, nails digging crescents into her palms as if the pain alone could somehow ground her, keep her head clear. It wouldn’t. Not for long. Not once the heat wrapped around her brain, muffling any coherent thought till she had a knot stuffed inside her. The one thing she truly hated about this, was that imperative would nearly kill her if she didn’t bow to it.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Not here… not with him.

The security system. The goddamn security system.

Why hadn’t she left earlier? She knew this was coming, she had felt it creeping up on her all day; the slow build of heat, the restless energy tightening beneath her skin just threatening to snap if she got the whiff of even a single Alpha. She had ignored it, denied it even because, truly, her heats were very predictable. Though, something had to have set it off—she didn’t know what, but there was something that must have triggered it. Even if she could make it home, tick herself safely away in her nest, and ride it out with Thomas. Whoever he was, really, the app wasn’t all that great in her experience; perhaps some got luckier than she did.

But no.

No, she was here. Locked inside a corporate office. With him.

A low static-laced chime buzzed through the overhead speakers again, followed by the same pre-recorded messages. “Lock down protocol engaged. Please remain in the designated areas until further notice.”

Like this was just another fire drill. Like her body wasn’t betraying by the second by forcing this heat to come a whole day early when she’d planned for this so far in advance.

Xavier exhaled, a slow, measured thing that sounded too controlled. He finally moved, stepping toward the locked door. She didn’t miss the way his fingers flexed at his sides before he tried the handle, testing it despite knowing it wouldn’t budge. She felt dizzy, and parched her throat suddenly dry.

“System’s not going to lift until your pheromones drop,” he murmured, half to himself.

She swallowed, “no shit.”

Xavier turned, his gaze flickering to her, something unreadable behind his expression. Not panic. Not irritation. No. Just, calculating.

She didn’t know if that was better or worse. Her whole body felt hypersensitive now, every inch of her skin too tight, too warm. The ache was settling deep, coiling low in her belly and she knew—fuck, she knew—that she was only minutes away from losing any semblance of composure.

Her knees locked. “We need to call someone.”

Xavier was already ahead of her, pulling out his phone. A few taps, a glance at the screen, then—”No service.”

Her stomach bottomed out, “What do you mean, no service?”

He turned the screen toward her, a blank signal bar mocking her very existence. “The building’s in full lock down. Probably blocking all outbound calls until security resets the system.”

Her breath came out too fast, too shallow. The rational part of her knew this would be resolved soon. That someone would realize they were stuck in here and fix it. They had programs for this, Betas who were hired to come and move in heat Omegas and protective Alphas to a place of her choosing. It was all funded by their taxes, so surely, they wouldn’t just leave her here. Who knows, by morning maybe she’d be home.

There was just one glaring issue with this plan. They didn’t have hours. They had minutes.

Xavier was still watching her, his jaw tense, his fingers curled loosely around his phone like he was choosing not to grip it too tightly. He was keeping himself contained, but she wasn’t stupid.

He was an Alpha. She was pushing every single one of his instincts right now.

“You should.. move over there,” she managed, nodding toward the far end of the office, where the breakroom was. “Just—get some space.”

Xavier’s brows pulled together slightly, but didn’t argue. Instead, he stood a slow step backward. Then another. He was giving her distance, trying to make this easier. But it wouldn’t be enough, not for either of them. She could smell him, and GOD did he smell good.

A sharp pulse of heat rolled through her, and her balance wavered. She caught herself against the desk, her fingers gripping the edge far too tightly. She felt the slow trickle of slick into her panties. Her scent must have spiked hard, because Xavier froze like a deer in headlights – his breathing went sharp, his entire frame tensing—like something inside him just snapped to attention.

A fresh wave of panic crashed through her.

This was bad.

This was so bad.

The silence stretched on too long. Too thick. Her pulse roared in her ears, her vision blurring at the edges as another deep rolling wave of heat crashed through her, stealing the breath from her lungs. She swayed slightly, the office suddenly too bright, too small, too full of him.

Xavier hadn’t moved.

He was still standing there, still watching her—but something was different now. His body was rigid, shoulders tense, like he was holding himself together with a piece of string and a prayer. His jaw was locked, throat working hard as he swallowed. His fingers flexed once more, then curled into a fist. And his breathing—fuck, his breathing was beginning to change.

It wasn’t as controlled or measured. He was feeling it. The realization made something dark and needy coil in her gut, an involuntary whimper slipping past her lips before she could stop it. Xavier reacted immediately, clenching his fists harder, his muscles twitching like he was resisting the urge to move, to close the distance between them. His nostrils flared again, this time more deliberate, more aware. His pupils were dilated, fuck, this was really happening.

Her legs trembled beneath her, another fresh wave of slick gathering between her thighs, soaking through the fabric of her underwear. She squeezed her legs together, desperate, frantic, trying to stop it, but all that did was make it worse. Her scent flared out of her in thick, heady waves completely saturating the air around them.

The worst part was, she could feel him too. His scent was beginning to invade her, the musky Alpha scent that made all Omegas weak in the knees. “We need…” her voice came out wrecked, breathless. She swallowed, forcing herself to get the words out. “We need to get out of here.” Xavier let out a sharp, humorless, breath. “No shit.”

She almost laughed. Almost. But another tremor ran through her leaving her legs weak, her body continuing its biological betrayal. This was going to get so much worse. And she knew there was only so much he could handle, while he was controlled and rational on the surface – he wasn’t immune.

Alphas didn’t go into rut on command, not unless they were bonded, but proximity to an Omega in full blown heat? Trapped in a room with one, nowhere to go, nowhere to run?

His body was going to start acting on instinct and, in some ways, it was. The realization sent a fresh spike of panic through her, clashing violently with the unbearable need. She wasn’t supposed to be here, not this, not him. Xavier ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly, deliberately, as if trying to center himself. But she could see it now—the tightness in his frame, the way his fingers flexed and relaxed, the heat simmering just beneath the surface of his skin.

He was starting to sweat, a sheen forming on his skin as he pulled at his tie wanting to loosen it as much as possible. He was trying so hard to keep his distance, but every second that passed her scent was sinking deeper into his brain, wrapping around him like a noose. The space between them felt too thin, the air itself charged, suffocating, every breath laced with something she knew neither of them could escape. Her vision waved, a fresh wave of dizziness hitting her, the telltale fog creeping into the edges of her mind. She was losing controlled

“Xavier?” she whimpered softly as she sunk to the floor by her desk, her legs no longer capable of holding hers body up. His name on her lips was barely more than a breath, a soft plea, but it might as well have been a gunshot in the silence. Xavier moved. Slowly. Carefully. Like he was approaching something fragile—something dangerous.

His movements were deliberate and measured. His body still humming with restraint stretched so thin he could basically see through it. His eyes were locked onto her, dark with something he was trying desperately to keep on a leash. His scent cloyed around her, wrapping and pressing into her skin.

And she wanted it, no, she needed it.

Her body was burning from the inside out and this wasn’t even the worst part. Her nails dug into the fabric of her skirt, fingers trembling, thighs pressing together in a futile attempt to ease the ache. It wasn’t enough. It never would be enough.

Xavier crouched in front of her, his weight balanced on his heels, his hands braced on his knees like he was grounding himself—like he wasn’t allowing himself to touch her.

But he was close.

Too close.

Not close enough.

Her breath hitched,  the scent of him invading her and it was withering away every ounce of control she had left—which wasn’t much. His jaw tightened, the muscles flexing as he exhaled through his nose. His scent was so much stronger now, more present, and it made something deep in her chest clench, her entire body hyper aware of him. She licked her lips, barely thinking, barely even there, only operating on need now.

He watched her.

His fingers curled against the fabric of his slacks, his knuckles whitening as if he were keeping himself restrained. “You still with me?” his voice was rough, lower than usual—she’d never heard him this way before and it felt oddly intimate, not that she could distinguish that from a typical conversation right now even if she wanted to.

She nodded. Then shook her head. “I don’t know.”

His nostrils flared, his throat working as he swallowed again, and she could feel how hard he was holding back. He was fighting against every instinct, their bodies both betraying them in the most unfair way. Even as his pupils swallowed up the blue of his irises, his entire frame coiled tight.

But he wasn’t going to make the first move, he was waiting on her. And that—fuck, that— made something hot and unbearable roll through her, because he wouldn’t. Not unless she asked. Not unless she took from him.

Her fingers trembled as she lifted one hand, reaching for him before she could stop herself, curling her fingers into the loose fabric of his shirt, gripping it tight. His body jerked at the contact, like she’d shocked him, a sharp inhale hissing between his teeth. Still, he didn’t move.

Didn’t pull away.

Didn’t press closer.

He was letting her decide.

Her breath came in quick shallow gasps, her skin flushed, she tugged weakly at his shirt as her fingers flexed, her body begging. Xavier exhaled slowly, measured, his fingers twitching at his sides before he finally lifted one hand.

Not to grab her.

Not to take.

He brushed his knuckles along her temple, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered just a fraction longer than necessary, his touch barely there, but she leaned into it like he was the only thing keeping her tethered to reality.

A choked sound left her throat, raw and desperate. His expression shifted. Not with hunger, not with possessiveness.

With understanding. Because he knew she was choosing him.

And that was what made his restraint finally crack.

Xavier shrugged off his jacket, the fabric rustling as he slid it down his arms before he draped it around her shoulders.

“Here,” he murmured, voice rough at the edges but still steady. “This should help.”

It was instinct. Omegas sought comfort in scent, in warmth. And right now, she had nothing—no nest, no blankets, no space to burrow into. Just the cold, hard floor of the office and the suffocating weight of her own heat pressing down on her. The second the fabric settled around her, something in her loosened. It wasn’t enough to fix anything, but it was something.

His scent clung to the material, deep and rich, and she curled her fingers into the sleeves, gripping tight as she buried her face into the collar. A shuddering breath escaped her lips, and Xavier felt the sharp pang of relief and helplessness hit him all at once.

“That’s it,” he murmured, watching the way she curled in on herself, still trembling, still struggling, but just a little less. “Breathe through it.”

She made a small, desperate, sound against the fabric, her entire body shaking. “It’s… too much.”

He swallowed, forcing his muscles to stay loose, his instincts screaming at him to fix it. “I know,” he said softly, “but you’re not alone, alright? You’re gonna be okay.”

She let out a choked breath, and he wasn’t sure if she was hearing him properly anymore—her heat was burning through her so fast, relentless, and she was fading into it, sinking deeper into that biological imperative that would override everything else.

He needed to ground her.

Without thinking, he shifted, adjusting his position so that he was sitting beside her, his back resting against the desk. He kept just enough distance to give her space, but close enough that his presence was solid–real.

Her breath hitched and slowly, almost instinctively, she turned her head, pressing closer—still clinging to his jacket, still trembling, but seeking him now.

His throat tightened.

Fuck.

Xavier exhaled sharply, tipping his head back against the desk, dragging a hand down his face.

This was getting worse by the second.

He was handling it now, barely, but his own body was responding despite everything. The scent of her heat was thick in the air, too thick, and every inhale felt like a slow, measured descent into something he wouldn’t be able to climb back out of.

He had to keep it together.

She needed him to.

Another soft noise left her throat, prompting him to glance down at her, making him notice the way her body quivered, her breath quick and uneven. She was curling into herself, panting against the fabric of his jacket, her entire body wrung out from the intensity of it.

She’s suffering.

That thought hit him harder than anything else.

He adjusted his position slightly, reaching out—not grabbing, just offering. A steadying hand, a point of contact if she needed it. “Come here.” His voice was quieter now, more deliberate. Not a demand. Just an offer.

She hesitated, fingers gripping tighter around his jacket. Then, slowly (shakily) she moved.

She pressed against his side, her body heat searing even through the layers of clothing, and Xavier fought the instinct to react—to tense, to pull her closer. Instead, he let her decide how much contact she needed, how much she could take.

A shaky breath ghosted against his neck. “You… smell good.”

Xavier huffed a quiet, strained laugh. “Yeah, well. So do you.”

Her head tilted, barely lifting from his shoulder, her lips parting slightly as she took another deep inhale, drinking him in.

His pulse kicked up.

Fuck.

He had to keep it together.

But when she let out another small, pleading whimper, pressing closer, his restraint fractured just a little more. Her breath was a soft tremor against his throat, warm and uneven, and he could feel the fine tremble in her limbs as she pressed against him. The scent of her heat was drowning him. His jaw clenched and his grip on control frayed.

She wasn’t just reacting—she was reaching. Fingers twitching against his chest, gripping at the fabric of his shirt like it was the only thing tethering her to reality. Her body was hot, burning, restless, shifting slightly against his side as her knees pressed against his thigh. Each small movement sent a pulse of heat through him, a reminder of exactly what she needed, what her body was begging for.

“Xavier…” her voice was barely a whisper, wrecked and raw, like she was struggling to even form words.

His gut tightened. Fuck.

He turned his head slightly, just enough to look at her, to meet the wide glazed-over haze of her eyes. Dilated pupils. Lips parted. Breath trembling, she was unraveling right in front of him and they were stuck here in this office till someone came for them or he got her pheromones down somehow. It was getting harder—so much harder—to pretend he wasn’t being pulled under with her.

A slow, shuddering breath escaped him. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.” His voice was rough, thick with restraint, but even he could hear the way it wavered.

Her finger grappled tighter into his shirt, a desperate little sound breaking from her throat. “I do.”

Fuck.

Her lips were close—so fucking close—hovering just a breath away, her scent curling around him like a drug, seeping into every crack of his resolve. And then, slowly, she moved.

Soft. Warm. The barest brush of her mouth against his, hesitant at first, almost testing. But then she pressed in, firmer, more insistent, like instinct had taken full control, and Xavier suddenly didn’t feel like a good guy anymore.

His hand came up before he could think, his fingers sliding against the nape of her neck, anchoring her there as he exhaled a harsh breath against her lips. He didn’t pull away, he couldn’t, not when she was melting against him as if the need were too great.

He kissed her back, slow at first, testing the waters, but the second she let out a soft, needy noise again in her mouth, all hesitation burned away. His grip tightened, his fingers moving to the back of her head deepening the kiss, dragging her closer, letting himself taste her properly like he’d always wanted to.

The sound of her whimper had him groaning. She arched against his hands, fisting into his shirt as she pulled herself onto his lap. She was starving for whatever he would give her, her entire body fitting against his like she belonged there—and she did.

Another plea left her lips as she clawed at his clothes, her hands roaming and he could barely catch his breath, the feel of her on him had his pants uncomfortably tight in a way he’d never experienced before. She rocked her hips against him, the movement unintentional, unconscious, but it shot straight through him like a bolt of heat.

His hands snapped to her waist, gripping firmly, stilling her. His breath came harsh and uneven as he forced himself to pace, to think through the haze clouding his brain. “If we start this,” he ground out, his voice wrecked, strained, “I’m not stopping.”

She met his gaze, eyes dark and heavy lidded, her lips swollen from his kisses. No hesitation. No doubt, just pure, unfiltered need.

“Then don’t.”

Xavier didn’t wait. Couldn’t.

The moment the words left her lips something inside him snapped like a taut rubber band. Then, he was moving—his grip tightening, dragging her flush against him, his mouth crushing against hers in a kiss that was nothing like the last. No hesitation. No restraint. Just heat, sharp and all-consuming, like a wildfire swallowing them both whole.

She gasped into it, her fingers tangling his shirt, pulling at him like she couldn’t get close enough. Her thighs clenched tighter around his hips, her body fitting against his perfectly, grinding, desperate, needy, her scent thick and intoxicating as it wrapped around him and turned his thoughts into static.

He was hard, painfully so, the pressure of her on top of him was driving him to the edge of insanity. His hands roamed, sliding down the curve of her back, gripping her hips with bruising force, guiding her movements until she was rolling against him just right. She whimpered, breaking the kiss just to suck in a ragged breath before diving back in, desperate for the man she never thought could want her and hoping with the only part of her brain that was functioning properly that this wouldn’t ruin their friendship.

“Xavier—” his name left her in a choked, pleading gasp as her nails scraped down his chest, seeking, needing.

He cursed under his breath, his own control fraying so completely that he wasn’t sure he’d recognize himself anymore. But it didn’t matter, nothing mattered except her, the feel of her, her body, her scent, and the way she moved against him like she was made for this, for him.

His hand slid lower, over the curve of her ass, fingers digging in as he pulled her down hard, grinding against the aching length of him. She moaned at the contact, her head tilting back, baring the delicate column of her throat. His vision tunneled.

Instinct took over.

He lunged, his lips found her neck, his teeth scraping along her scent gland, a growl rumbling in his chest as she writhed against him. She was panting now, her body trembling in his grasp as she begged, her slick soaking through his pants. He surged up, flipping their positions in one fluid motion, pressing her back against the floor. He cradled her head as he laid her down then brought his mouth back to hers. His hands were everywhere—pushing up her shirt, dragging his fingers across bare skin, tracing the dip of her waist, the curve of her thighs.

He wanted to taste her. To mark her. To bury himself so deep she’d never feel this unbearable heat without thinking of him again. Her hands were at his belt, fumbling, frantic, and he didn’t stop her. Couldn’t. His own desperation mirrored hers too perfectly.

There was no going back.

No stopping.

Not now.

Her fingers trembled against his belt, frantic, desperate to free him from the unbearable constraint between them. Xavier didn’t breathe—couldn’t—his own restraint torn to shreds as he felt her hands on him, her touch sending sharp jolts of heat through every nerve in his body.

“Fuck,” he ground out, his forehead dropping against hers, his breath heavy, uneven. “You—”

But he couldn’t even form words. She was too much, wanting for so long coming to a head like this was not what he’d wanted. The day had started, and he’d been contemplating asking her out for the last year or so – stupid of him to wait so long but he’d seen how others treated her and he didn’t want her thinking he was the same.

He didn’t even realize his hands were shaking until he was helping her, he was tearing at his own belt, shoving at the fabric between them, the need clawing through his veins like fire. She gasped, her hips lifting instinctively, making it easier, urging him on.

The moment there was nothing left between them, the heat of her nearly broke him. Xavier’s head tipped back, a low, guttural groan tearing from his throat as her slick coated him as she ground against him, soft and needy and utterly wrecked beneath him.

“Please,” she whispered, her fingers clutching at his arms, nails digging in leaving little crescents on his skin.

He was going to lose his fucking mind.

His lips crashed against hers again, his body pinning her beneath him, his hands gripping her thighs spreading them and lifting them high up on his waist. Every ounce of control he’d had was gone, burned to ash beneath the fire of her heat.

She was already his  and now, she’d know it.

Her breath hitched, a broken, pleading sound as he spread her open, his hands rough and sure against her heated skin. She was trembling, legs wrapped around his waist. Xavier wasn’t thinking anymore, he was past thought, past hesitation, past everything except the need to claim, to take, to finally—finally—have her the way he’d wanted to for so long.

His hands gripped her tight, holding her still as he lined himself up, his cock heavy, aching, slicking with her. The first press of him against her had her whimpering, her fingers clawing at his back, nails dragging, body aching desperately for him.

“Xavier,” she gasped, pleading, her body tensing, quivering beneath him as she tried to push herself down, trying to take him deeper.

With one slow, deliberate roll of his hips, he pushed inside, stretching her open and sinking into her heat so unbearable it nearly broke him. A guttural groan ripped from his throat, his hands tightening on her thighs, his control hanging by a thread.

She made a noise he couldn’t place and then he groaned as she bit his shoulder, near his scent gland and he thrust harder against hers. Xavier barely processed the sharp sting of her teeth sinking into his shoulder before white hot and undeniable instinct roared through him.

His hands slid to her hips, gripping tight, holding her steady as he fucked into her, relentless, fever, chasing the inevitable. He could feel it, the way she was close, trembling on the edge. He wasn’t going to last, not with the way she felt around him, not with the way she moaned his name like it was the only thing left in her mind.

Burying his face against her throat, his teeth grazing over the scent gland in warning. His knot was swelling—he could feel it, the way his body was more than ready to lock her down and breed her. Though, as it turned out – his body wasn’t the only thing that wanted that; he did too. It was flashes or images he’d often thought about – a baby with her eyes, and nose… he could get used to the idea.

The way he stretched her just a little more she had to have felt it, the way her body resisted and then—

“Xavier—” her voice cracked high and breathless, as she clamped down around him, her orgasm tearing through her in a violent, uncontrollable wave.

That was it. A deep guttural sound of possession erupted from him as his hips slammed forward one final time, his knot catching, swelling, locking him inside her. She gasped at the sensation, at the way she could feel everything—him, the warmth spreading inside her, the way their bodies refused to part. For a long moment, she was nothing but sensation, floating in a haze, her limbs loose, her head spinning.

And then, slowly, the heat began to fade.

Not all at once. It was a slow retreat, like waves pulling back from a shore, her body still trembling, still overly sensitive, but the sharp edge of her need was dulling, easing. Her breath evened out, her grip on him loosening, her mind clearing little by little.

Xavier groaned against her throat, his arms wrapped around her, his weight warm and grounded. “You back?” His lips brushed against her temple.

She blinked slowly, her body boneless, her mind still sluggish. “I—yeah,” she murmured, voice hoarse, “I think so.”

His fingers traced lazy circles against her skin, his breath warm against her. “Good,” he murmured. “Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

She stayed curled against him, her breath slow, steady, but he could still feel the occasional tremor rolling through her muscles. Xavier held her through it, one arm wrapped tight around her back, his free hand smoothing over the damp skin of her hip in slow, grounding motions. His knot was still firm inside her, keeping them connected, keeping her close, exactly where she needed to be.

Where he needed her to be.

It was a long stretch of silence before she finally shifted, her fingers twitching against his skin, her body adjusting ever so slightly beneath his. Xavier lifted his head just enough to look at her. She was soft now, loose-limbed, her eyes half-lidded, still a little glazed but there in a way she’d hadn’t been before. The fever had retreated, leaving behind exhaustion in its wake.

She exhaled, a shaky sound that made something in his chest tighten. “It’s gone,” she murmured, blinking up at him. “I can think again.”

Xavier swallowed, pressing a slow kiss against her temple, his fingers still tracing idle patterns against her hip. “Good,” he said softly. “How do you feel?”

She made a small noise, shifting against him. “Sore. But… safe.”

Safe.

His arm tightened around her without thinking, a fierce wave of something sharp and protective surging through him. Mine. A dull chime rang through the building, distant but unmistakable. The lock down had lifted. His muscles tensed instinctively, his mind shifting into something more alert. They weren’t alone.

She felt it too—the way his body coiled beneath her, his breathing changed. She pushed herself up slightly, just enough to glance toward the door, her expression flickering with something wary.

A moment later, a knock sounded. Firm. Measure. Too damn official.

“Fuck off,” Xavier called without thinking, his voice still rough, his usual calm and relaxed approach gone. He had to keep her safe, his Omega.

A pause. Then: “Sir, we need to confirm the Omega’s condition,” came a level, professional voice from the other side. “We have robes prepared. We will escort you both to a secure location of her choosing.”

She let out a small sigh, her body slumping back against him. "Just my apartment," she muttered. "That's all I want."

Xavier shifted, running a hand up her back, fingers splayed possessively. "You sure?"

She nodded, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder. "Yeah. I just want my nest. And you."

Something in his chest gave, his throat tightening slightly. He forced himself to take a slow breath, forcing down the instinctual growl building in his throat at the thought of anyone else being around her right now.

He pressed another kiss against her forehead. "Alright."

Only then did he finally address the Betas outside. "Give us a minute."

The pause was long, but then the voice replied, "Understood."

It took time for his knot to shrink, for him to finally, reluctantly slide out of her. She let out a quiet whimper at the loss, and Xavier clenched his jaw, his fingers soothing along her spine. He helped her up slowly, keeping her steady as she found her balance on unsteady legs.

They dressed in the robes provided, but Xavier never let her go, keeping her tucked close against his side as they finally stepped out.

The Betas were waiting, their expressions carefully neutral, their eyes flicking between them with quiet efficiency. Xavier bristled, instincts still sharp, still too much.

One of them, a man with graying hair and a calm, measured stance, inclined his head toward her. "Do you require any medical assistance?"

She shook her head immediately, curling against Xavier’s side. "Just take us home."

The Beta nodded. "Very well."

Xavier kept an arm around her as they were led out of the building, down to the waiting transport. He barely looked at anyone, barely acknowledged anything outside of her. She was tired, still fragile, her body worn from the intensity of her heat, and he refused to let anyone near her, refused to let her stand on her own when she could lean on him.

They reached her apartment, and the moment the door closed behind them, she exhaled, her body sagging with relief.

"Xavier," she murmured, fingers fisting in his robe. "Nest."

His lips brushed the crown of her head. "I'm here."

And he always would be.

She barely made it two steps into her apartment before Xavier scooped her up, carrying her straight to her nest without hesitation. She let out a soft noise—half protest, half relieved sigh—and curled against him, letting herself be held. He stepped over the mess of blankets, pillows and plushies,  easing her down carefully. She sank into it, immediately, burrowing into the familiar scents, her fingers fisting into the soft fabric, inhaling deep. Xavier knelt besides her, brushing his fingers over her cheek, letting them linger only slightly.

“Need anything?” he asked, voice quieter now, less rough but still heavy with the remnants of everything that had just happened.

Her nose wrinkled. “Food…”

Xavier huffed a soft laugh, rubbing his hand down his face. “Yeah, alright. That, I can do.”

The words felt like a lie the second he stepped into her kitchen.

He stood there, hands on his hips, staring blankly at the cabinets, the fridge, the entire concept of cooking like it had personally wronged him. Fuck. He could take down a fully grown Alpha in a fight, handle high-stress negotiations, keep his head cool under pressure—but making something edible? Apparently, that was his breaking point.

He opened the fridge, eyes scanning the contents. Leftover takeout—probably bad leftover takeout—a few eggs, some cheese, a loaf of bread that might still be good. Simple. Safe. He could work with that.

Fifteen minutes later, he returned to the bedroom with a plate of the most aggressively mediocre scrambled eggs and toast she had ever seen.

She blinked up at him, her face half-buried in a pillow, her scent calmer now, more her without the haze of heat fogging her up. “You made me food?”

Xavier grunted, setting the plate down in front of her. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

She pushed herself up slowly, wincing slightly as her sore muscles protested the movement. He immediately reached out, steadying her, his fingers curling against her waist. “Careful,” he murmured.

She hummed, leaning into him for just a second before turning her attention back to the food. “…Did you poison this?”

Xavier narrowed his eyes. “Eat the damn eggs.”

She smirked but obediently took a bite. Chewed. Swallowed. Thought about it.

“…It’s not bad.”

He snorted, stretching out beside her. “I’ll get better. For you.” He said it like a promise, his hand finding her thigh, rubbing absent circles against her skin.

Her gaze softened, and for a long moment, she just looked at him. No heat, no desperation—just warmth, just him.

“What does this mean?” she finally asked, setting the plate aside.

Xavier exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. “I think you know.”

She hesitated, her fingers twitching against the blanket. “…Say it.”

He turned, cupping her jaw, tilting her face toward his. “You’re mine,” he said simply, his voice steady, final. “And I’m yours.”

Her breath hitched. “Even without the heat?”

Xavier’s fingers tightened slightly. “Especially without the heat.” He leaned in, brushing his nose against hers, his lips barely grazing her mouth. “I wanted this before. Before your scent wrecked me. Before I had you like this.”

Her heart slammed against her ribs, her body already responding, already shifting closer. “Xavier…”

His mouth found hers in answer, slow this time, deep, deliberate. Nothing rushed. Nothing frantic. This wasn’t instinct demanding—this was them choosing.

She melted, sighing into him, her fingers slipping beneath his robe, tracing the firm muscles of his stomach, his back, pulling him down into the nest with her. Xavier followed easily, covering her body with his, the weight of him solid and grounding, exactly what she needed.

His hands moved over her, memorizing, relearning, touching her without the urgency of before. When he finally slid between her thighs, when he finally pushed into her again, it wasn’t desperate—it was right.

She gasped, clutching at him, her legs wrapped tight around his waist as he buried himself deep, his breath shuddering against her throat.

He kissed her softly, murmuring against her skin. “One more time, baby. Then we sleep.” His thrusts were slow and deep, his mouth open against her throat – her scent gland under his teeth.

His knot swelled again, locking them together, sealing his promise; his bite only made it official. His teeth broke the skin as he locked inside her and her body quaked around his cock as the bond snapped into place.

And this time, when they fell asleep, it wasn’t from exhaustion.

It was peace.

࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜ ࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜ ࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒࿙֒͜࿚࿙֒

Walking into the office a week later felt different.

Xavier felt it the moment they stepped through the doors—eyes flicking toward them, whispers passing between coworkers, the subtle shift in scent recognition as people noticed.

He barely gave a fuck.

She was tucked close to his side, her body still recovering from the intensity of her heat, her scent calmer now, but changed. Mated. His. It was in the way her scent had deepened, the way his own scent wrapped around hers, unmistakable, permanent.

And everyone could tell.

Xavier kept a hand at the small of her back as they walked through the office, his touch light but firm, grounding. She leaned into it without thinking, her fingers brushing against his wrist before dropping back to her side.

“Oh shit,” someone muttered from the break room as they passed.

Xavier turned his head slightly, flicking his gaze toward the group of Betas huddled around the coffee machine. They immediately looked away, suddenly very invested in their drinks.

Another voice, quieter but amused, followed. “I knew something was going on.”

She let out a breath beside him, her fingers twitching at her side. “They’re talking,” she muttered under her breath.

Xavier hummed. “Let ‘em.”

He wasn’t ashamed. Would never be ashamed of her. If anything, he felt a slow, deep satisfaction settle in his chest knowing everyone knew. Knowing that every single Alpha in this place who had ever thought about getting too close to her would now have to fucking think again.

And they did.

People moved differently around them now. Subtle things. A few more steps of distance, a second glance before approaching, even some outright avoidance from Alphas who used to think they had a shot.

Good.

They made it to her desk without incident and Xavier leaned against the edge of it, arms crossed, watching as she settled into her chair.

She let out a slow breath, rolling her shoulders. “Feels weird.”

Xavier arched his brow. “Being back?”

She shook her head. “Being… this back. With you.” Her fingers brushed absently against her scent gland—the bite mark faded now, but still there, a physical reminder of what they were now.

Xavier reached out, catching her hand, bringing it to his lips. He kissed her palm, slow, deliberate. “Get used to it, baby.”

She flushed, mouth opening—

“Alright, so who won the betting pool?”

Xavier sighed heavily, tilting his head toward the intruding voice.

Eli from accounting. Smug as fuck.

A chorus of groans and muttered complaints echoed from various corners of the office.

“No way, it actually happened?”

“Shit, I had them breaking first, not full-on mating—”

“God dammit, I was so sure it was gonna be another six months—”

Xavier dragged a hand down his face as she groaned, burying her head in her arms. “There was a pool?”

Eli smirked, leaning against the cubicle wall. “Oh, hell yeah. Half the office had money on when you two would finally stop eye-fucking and do something about it.”

Xavier let out a slow, measured breath, fingers twitching slightly against his bicep.

“Don’t kill him,” she muttered, her voice muffled against her sleeves.

“I make no promises,” Xavier said flatly.

Eli held up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, don’t be mad at me, man. Be mad at the people who lost their paychecks betting against you.” He grinned. “Not my fault everyone else thought you were a coward.”

Xavier moved, and Eli took a very quick step back.

“Alright, alright—point made, Alpha.”

Xavier didn’t smile, but his posture relaxed slightly, his fingers returning to their usual resting place at the small of her back.

Eli caught the movement, his smirk widening slightly before he turned to walk away. “By the way, tell your girl if she ever gets sick of your cooking, I make a mean spaghetti.”

Xavier’s glare could’ve melted steel.

Eli cackled all the way back to his desk.

She peeked up from her arms, eyes glinting with amusement. “…You are a shit cook.”

Xavier leaned down, brushing his lips against her ear. “Say that again and see what happens.”

She shivered. “Xavier—”

“Mm.” He kissed her scent gland, soft, just enough to make her breath hitch. “After work, we’re going home.”

Her fingers curled against his thigh. “And?”

Xavier exhaled against her skin. “And I’m gonna put you in your nest and fuck you stupid.”

Her pulse kicked up, her scent sweetening slightly. “You just said to get used to this.”

He smirked. “Yeah. This is getting used to it.”

She huffed, but the way her thighs pressed together told him everything he needed to know.

Yeah.

They were mated now.

And everyone knew it.

[rafes-slut]

Repeat Offender

Summary: You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve had to bail Rafe Cameron out of trouble. Once again, your phone lights up in the dead of night with an all-too-familiar number. Rafe’s reckless nature has landed him behind bars yet again, and despite your better judgment, you go to get him. But this time, you’re running out of patience.

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Toxic relationship dynamics, heavy angst, mentions of alcohol and drugs, arguments, strong language, possessive behavior, slight emotional manipulation, unhealthy dependency.

-------

The shrill ring of your phone jolts you awake. Your fingers fumble across the bedside table, heart sinking the moment you see the caller ID.

Outer Banks County Jail.

Not again.

You let the phone ring a few times, debating whether you should even answer. You already know what they’re going to say, and you already know what you’re going to do—because this isn’t the first time, and, God help you, it probably won’t be the last.

Sighing, you swipe to accept the call and bring the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“Miss Y/L/N?” The officer’s voice is professional but tired, like he’s had this same conversation too many times before. “We have Rafe Cameron in custody. He asked for you.”

Of course, he did.

You press your fingers against your temple, willing the dull ache in your skull to subside. “What did he do this time?”

“Disorderly conduct, public intoxication… resisting, technically.”

You close your eyes. The usual, then.

“I’ll be there soon.”

It’s past two in the morning by the time you arrive at the station, the fluorescent lights buzzing too harshly for your sleep-deprived brain. You’re no stranger to this place, and the officer at the front desk barely looks surprised to see you.

“Sign here,” he says, sliding the paperwork toward you. You glance over the form, your irritation bubbling under your skin like a slow burn.

How did it come to this?

The first time you bailed Rafe out, you convinced yourself it was just a one-time thing—a mistake, a bad night. But then it happened again. And again. Each time, he’d look at you with those stupid, reckless blue eyes, and you’d fold like a goddamn house of cards.

You scribble your name down, and within minutes, an officer leads Rafe out from the holding cell. He looks rough—shirt wrinkled, a cut on his lip, the faint scent of whiskey and cigarettes clinging to him like a second skin.

But when he sees you, he smirks like this is all some kind of joke.

“Hey, baby,” he drawls, voice raspy. “Miss me?”

Your jaw clenches. “You’re unbelievable.”

Rafe only grins, like he enjoys getting under your skin. “C’mon, don’t be mad. I knew you’d come.”

You cross your arms. “That’s the problem, Rafe. You always know I’ll come.”

The officer beside him clears his throat. “He’s all yours.”

You exhale sharply, turning on your heel without another word. Rafe follows you out of the station, hands stuffed in his pockets. The moment you step outside, the humid night air clings to your skin, thick and suffocating—just like the situation you’ve trapped yourself in with him.

“Babe,” Rafe starts, reaching for you. You yank your arm away.

“Don’t.”

He sighs, running a hand through his messy hair. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to stop,” you snap, spinning around to face him. “I want you to stop getting into fights, stop getting arrested, stop—” Your voice wavers. “Stop making me do this.”

His gaze softens, and for a fleeting second, you see something real beneath his cocky exterior—something raw, almost desperate. “You don’t have to do anything.”

You laugh, but it’s humorless. “Oh, really? Because every time you screw up, who’s the one that gets the call?”

Rafe steps closer, forcing you to look up at him. “And yet, you always answer.”

Your breath catches. He’s right, and he knows it. You could have ignored the call. You could have let him sit in that cell all night. But instead, here you are—again.

“Why do you keep coming back?” Rafe murmurs, tilting his head slightly. “If you really wanted to walk away, you would’ve done it by now.”

The worst part? You don’t have an answer.

You shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I can’t keep doing this, Rafe.”

He exhales, fingers grazing yours, a silent plea. “Then don’t.”

But you both know that’s not how this works.

You look at him, really look at him—the boy you love, the boy who’s destroying himself, the boy who’s dragging you down with him. And despite everything, despite all the promises you’ve broken to yourself, you sigh and say the only thing you can.

“Get in the car.”

[im4rmy]

your first time together - chenle (idol AU)

IMAGINE: Chenle picks you up after the game, and he's apparently a sucker for you in your volleyball jersey.

TW: car sex, fingering, jersey kink, MDNI

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

• "Hi, honey! How are you?"

Chenle doesn’t even get a chance to answer before you’re climbing into his car—still wearing your damn jersey, knee-high socks and all, with that infuriatingly hot ponytail swinging behind you.

“Y-You didn’t change?”

“Oh—sorry, when you texted me about tonight I was already at practice. I didn’t have anything else to wear... is that a problem? Do I stink?”

Chenle laughs, leaning over towards you to press a kiss to your lips. “No, you’re perfect.”

He takes a deep breath as he starts the car, trying his best to ignore the sudden, angry erection tightening in his jeans.

• You two have been seeing each other for about a month now, and you’ve done things. Neither of you are virgins, but you’re both still figuring it all out—so far, it’s been a lot of fun with foreplay, but you haven’t had sex yet.

“I’m sorry I missed the game. Practice ran later than I thought.”

“It’s fine. We still won—even without our favorite fanboy.”

• As you go on detailing every moment of the game, Chenle drives to a fast food drive-thru to grab dinner. No five-star dining tonight. You also notice he’s quieter than usual. You wait until he pulls into an empty parking lot before speaking up.

“What’s going on with you?”

“Hm?”

“You’re not saying anything.”

“That’s because I’m listening.”

You scrunch your nose at him and take a bite of your burger. “Are you mad at me or something?”

Chenle nearly chokes on his food, whipping his head around to look at you. “No! Why would I be?”

“BECAUSE YOU’RE NOT SAYING ANYTHING, CHENLE!”

He flinches at your outburst, eyes wide, then exhales and slouches back into his seat like he’s surrendering.

“You gave me a boner.”

You glance down at his lap, then back up at his face. “And how exactly did I do that?”

“Your jersey.”

“Oh. Got it. Mhh—can I finish my burger first?”

“Of course.”

• You both keep eating, chatting like always, while he keeps shifting around in his seat like he can’t quite get comfortable. But the second you wipe your mouth and ball up your food wrapper—Chenle is on you. He crashes his lips onto yours, one hand gripping the back of your neck. You laugh into the kiss, climbing onto his lap as he slides his seat back for space. You pull off his hoodie, practically drooling at the sight of his arms as you run your hands over them. He smirks, fully aware of how much you love them, and flexes his biceps just to show off, making you giggle.

“So… what’s happening tonight?”

“I was thinking… maybe tonight could be the night.”

• You blink at him, stunned. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh—sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“You’re actually telling me that you want—”

“Y/n, I’m sorry, let’s just forget it—”

“I’m talking.” You cut him off with a finger over his lips. “You’re really telling me that the one time I don’t spend an hour picking out an outfit, don’t spend the whole day doing my hair and makeup to look pretty for you—the one time I show up looking like this, and we’re in a damn car… THAT’S when you want to have sex with me?”

He stares up at you with wide, innocent eyes. And then… he nods. The audacity.

“You’re such a dumbass.”

• He lights up with one of those devastating smiles of his, and there’s no way you can keep a straight face. You shake your head and lean in to kiss him, your hips subtly starting to move against his. He growls low in his throat and grips your waist, pulling your bodies even closer together.

“Shit. C-Can you take off your shorts? Just those.”

“You really wanna fuck me while I’m still wearing the jersey?”

“And the socks. Please.”

You let out a dramatic sigh, bite down on his lower lip, and grant his wicked little fantasy, slipping out of your shorts as gracefully as possible given the cramped space. Chenle doesn’t hesitate—his hand slides under your panties, drawing out a whimper as his fingers find exactly what they’re looking for. He watches you ride his hand with no shame at all, your hands digging into his shoulders for balance.

“You’re gorgeous.”

• You open your eyes and look at him—he’s ridiculously attractive, but what really gets you is the honesty in his gaze, the desire, and the love you know he feels for you. You kiss him, deep and hungry, even as your thoughts keep flickering down to what he’s doing between your thighs. He’s losing himself in your mouth, your soft lips, the sweet flick of your tongue, and your hands find the zipper of his jeans. You tug them down, then pull his boxers just low enough to free him.

• You feel him take a deep breath, trying to ground himself.

You smile and gently stroke his cheek. “You okay?”

“I’m with you… of course I am.”

That’s when you shift your panties to the side and finally sink down onto him, drawing twin gasps from both of you at the dizzying sensation. You move slowly at first, savoring every inch, every drag, every tight press of skin against skin. His hands explore all of you—your hips, your thighs, your hands, your breasts under the jersey, your ass… he’s everywhere. You feel him inside you, under your skin, on your tongue, in your hands. You’re overwhelmed by the pleasure.

• Neither of you speaks—there’s only the sound of breathless moans, helpless whines, and curses whispered into each other’s mouths. The windows begin to fog. You feel your orgasm building, pressure curling at the base of your spine, so you pick up the pace, rolling your hips faster—and Chenle trembles beneath you.

“Oh—God. Y/n, shit, I’m—fuck—”

You slam your hips down one last time as he shudders and pulses deep inside you, locked in place by the clutch of your spasming muscles. You both come undone together, clinging to each other like lifelines.

“Wow.”

“Agreed.”

You melt against his chest, tucking your face into the crook of his neck.

• “If that’s the effect my jersey has on you, I’m banning you from coming to my games.”

“That’s called cruelty. And you know I’m firmly anti-violence.”

♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤

other chenle's chapters:

bf!chenle scenario

chenle - when you first met

chenle - your first time together ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ you're here!

OT7 chapters:

your contact names in each other's phone

his favourite part of your body

when he hurts you during sex by accident

when he comes back from tour

⇘ nct dream idol AU index ⇙

·˚✎ ﹏im4rmy's masterlist

Taglist: @carelessshootanonymous

♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤

[aravenclawrites]

-,' 102 || m.r ',-

synopsis: in which mattheo is hopelessly in love with you, someone he simply can't have.

ela’s note: hihi, im working on reqs rn but here's an angsty oneshot w our boy mattheo!! it's based off the 1975's unreleased song, 102 :)

warnings: not proofread, angst, cursing, terrible descriptions of smoking, no happy ending, lazy ending, reader has a boyfriend, parties, mentions of drinking and fighting, many mentions of smoking, unrequited love, uhhh lmk if there's anything else

word count: 1.4k

mattheo held the cigarette up to his lips to take another drag, he looked down at the box, only seeing 4 out of 10 left. shrugging, he stuffed the box into his back pocket. he only bought that box an hour ago. 

he slowly inhaled the grey fog, thinking of all the problems he had going on. being busy with O.W.L exams he didn’t want to care about but had to, his parents, and of course, you. 

he entered the common room again, seeing dozens of students fucking around, getting drunk, dancing, and singing at the party. he swiftly made his way to the couch he was sitting at before taking a smoke break. enzo, theo, and draco looked at him to acknowledge him before returning to their usual shenanigans.  

the only reason he had smoked so much in such little time was because of you. you and your stupid little boyfriend who you loved so dearly. your dumb boyfriend who didn’t know you the way mattheo did. your idiotic boyfriend who could never love you the right way. 

mattheo wasn’t sure why you loved him. what was it about your boyfriend that he didn’t have? what did your boyfriend have or do that earned the purest look of love from you? the one mattheo could only dream about?

he watched you slip away from your boyfriend to take a breather from the party. so, in a moment of courage, he got up from the couch yet again, following you into the corridor.

“hey. i like the look of your shoes, didn’t get the chance to compliment you.” he said, watching you slump against the wall.

“that’s a really stupid way to word a compliment.” you laughed, grinning back at the boy. you watched him pull out another cig, “those are terrible for you,” you said. 

“your boyfriend smokes,” he retorted, lighting the roll. 

“and i scold him every time for it,” you reply, taking mental note of the bitterness laced in his voice. “the same way i do for you.” 

you and mattheo always argued about his shitty habits. the fighting, the smoking, the blowing off classes, the late night drinking, all of it. after all, you cared about the boy. 

as many times as you two argued about those things, though, mattheo could never bring himself to listen. always drowning out your scolding since he was too busy admiring the slight frown on your lips or the creases your eyebrows formed, along with the eyes he had fallen in love with.

“it’s not that bad, you honestly don’t have to worry.” mattheo exhaled, ignoring your comments.

“everyone thinks otherwise,” you argue, “you need to slow down. seriously.” 

“oh, c’mon. they’re just saying that. i’m not half as bad as what you've been told.” he rolled his eyes, indulging in the 7th cigarette in that hour alone. 

“you know it’s a problem,” you frown, “i don’t know why you continue.” 

mattheo did know it was a problem. he know all of his terrible habits were slowly eating at his life.

but how else could he cope? how could he distract himself from the feelings he had for you that tore him apart? 

you sigh again, knowing you wouldn’t be able to get through him, “i’m gonna head back, i’ll see you around.” 

mattheo bit back the urge to yell your name, to ask you to stay for even a moment longer. he held back though, keeping his lips wrapped around the cigarette.

— 

“mattheo,” you sighed, staring at the broken boy in front of you. “it’s 1 in the morning. what are you doing here?” 

“was close, gettin’ drunk and high. my dorm feels s'far away.” he said honestly, slurring his words a bit.

“come on, come inside,” you said, opening the door wider. mattheo sat on the foot of your bed, putting his head in his hands. “drink some water.”

mattheo didn’t even realize you had already retrieved a chilled bottle of water until you handed it to him. he quickly downed the cold water, refreshing his throat of the alcohol burn and smoke. he looked to you, a concerned face painting your features.

he subconsciously smiles as he noticed your pajamas; flannel pants, and a perfectly fit shirt. he took note of your sleepy expression and slightly messy hair, trying to commit the sight to memory, hoping the image of you would be burned into his eyelids if he looked long enough. 

“why’re you smiling?” you smilied back slightly, noticing his gaze. “and what are you doing getting drunk and high?” you flicked his forehead. “i’ll walk you to your dorm, c’mon.” you said, grabbing his hand and pulling him up.

—

now you and mattheo, along with enzo, theo, and draco, were trying to study for your O.W.L exam in 2 weeks. you were all sat at a table in the library, late at night, with different books and notes scattered across the table. 

despite what mattheo did, he couldn’t take his mind off you and the memories he shared with you. 

“mattheo...” theo dragged, “what ingredients go into amortentia?” he asked once again after he noticed he had mattheo’s attention again. 

“yeah, yeah, i’m not sure– sorry, mate.” the curly haired boy rubbed his eyes, “im gonna go have a smoke.” he said before abruptly leaving.  

“5 minute break, i guess.” enzo shrugged, leaning back on his chair. you followed

mattheo out, watching him light his cigarette in the corridor. 

“what’s up with you?” you questioned, impatiently crossing your arms. 

mattheo raised a brow, “do you want some too?” he asked, holding the bud closer to her. 

“no, i hate that shit, remember?” you frowned, fanning smoke out of your face while he pulled his arm back. 

“sorry- yeah, i knew that. i don’t know- im not really thinking.” mattheo sighed, he opened his mouth to explain more but was cut off.

“what’s going on with you? if you don’t care to study for the exam then don’t. you’re not forced to be in the library with us.” you snapped. 

“no, its not that, i’ve just been stressed with a lot.” he admitted, “and on top of that, there’s you.” he still wasn’t thinking, instead, more focused on blowing the smoke out of his lungs.

“what?” your face fell at the sudden confession. 

his eyes grew wide upon realizing what he said. “no. wait.  i didn’t mean you’re the problem.” mattheo countered, panicking at what the sentence could have insinuated. 

“then what?” you were almost begging for an answer, looking at the boy with so many different emotions. 

“well, i… i like the cut of your jib.” he said, stumbling. the words that came out of his mouth would have had you looking at him as if he was insane if you weren’t aware of what his phrase meant. 

he liked the cut of your jib. he liked you. he liked the way you looked, the way you spoke, the way you carried yourself. he liked your personality, your demeanor, and you.

he just confessed that he liked you. 

in reality, though, his feelings were much, much more than like. 

“what..?” your voice disappeared. you didn’t share those feelings, you were already in love with somebody else.

“and i know you love your boyfriend, and i hate him because you look so pretty yapping about him. and-”

“break’s over!” draco called out to you two in the corridor.

you and mattheo looked at each other. mattheo sighed and walked away, presumably heading to his dorm or some other place far away from you and your friends. you went back to the library, trying to forget the conversation you just had with mattheo.

—

you two hadn’t spoken since the study session, which had been over 2 weeks now. he had been sitting in his dorm, recovering from the intense O.W.L exam he had taken a few hours prior. he sorted through his closet, searching for something to wear to a party.

while searching the closet, he found one of your shirts that you left at his house after a shower, long before your boyfriend came into the picture.. the shirt smelt like you, and it was making him feel sick and feverish. 

even while at the party he was contemplating what he was going to do with himself now that you wouldn’t speak to him. 

he eventually decided that having you only as a friend would be better than not having her at all. 

he impulsively called you at 1:02 am, knowing you’d be awake since you never really got a lot of sleep anyway. 

matty didn’t remember a thing, since it hurt too much, but somehow the conversation ended with you two of them chatting for hours about your boyfriend. 

knives pierced his heart cruelly, listening as every word created another wound. but he didn’t care, he didn’t mind that he would be making himself wanna die. he only cared about you, and he proved that as he would be helping her get your stupid boyfriend’s attention daily.

i do not permit my work to be copied, translated, or reposted on different sites

dni if you support pro-life, racism, homophobia, transphobia, antisemitism, sexism or anything along those lines!

reblogs and notes are always appreciated otherwise <3

dividers: @cafekitsune

[moon-child-goddess]

Stay

Mattheo X Fem Gryffindor reader

Summary: After a night together, reader goes on with her life thinking that’s what playboy Mattheo wants.  

Warnings: Mentions of sexual content, all characters are 18 plus, mentions of drinking, mentions of longish hair (Like enough to be thrown over a shoulder),

A/N: Guys I have no idea what this is. I am hormonal and can’t function lmao. There is so much kissing for such a short thing... Anyway enjoy.

A warm hand rested around my waist, holding me close. Under any other circumstance, it might have felt reassuring— but not this. No not this.

“Stay.” He had murmured before drifting off to sleep. His voice had been low and soft. But I couldn't. There was no way he could have meant it.

Mattheo’s grip was loose, just light enough that I could slip out without waking him. As carefully as I could I lifted his arm and wiggled away from him. I squeezed my eyes when he squirmed, but he moved to lay on his back taking his hand with him.

I perched on the edge of the bed, fumbling with the clasp of my bra. One of the bands was twisted. I didn’t have the energy to fix it. It didn’t matter anyway. I just needed to get out of here.

Mattheo was sprawled out on his side of the bed, utterly peaceful, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Soft snores escaped him. He looked so serene. The scowl he usually wore was gone.

This was such a mistake. A Gryffindor hooking up with a Slytherin? We were supposed to be enemies. It was a drunken mistake. That’s right this was all just a slightly drunken mistake. Even though we both maybe had one drink a piece so I don’t know how drunk I could claim we were. No matter how many stolen glances we’d shared across the Great Hall, no matter how often I’d caught myself wondering what it would be like to touch him, this wasn’t supposed to happen.

I wasn’t even entirely sure how we’d ended up here. One moment we were at that Hufflepuff party, and the next... his room.

The room was dim, lit only by the faint flicker of a few candles. Finding my clothes in the murky lighting felt impossible.  I crawled on my hands and knees patting the floor for my silky dress. When I did find it I threw the thing on inside out.

I needed to get out of here before he woke up. My shoes were scattered one by the dresser and the other at the edge of the bed. Grabbing them both, I padded softly to the exit.

The door wasn’t budging, it seemed to be stuck in the doorway. I had to put some force behind my yanking to get it to move. I sucked in a sharp breath, wincing at the faint creak that broke the silence.  

I glanced back one last time. Mattheo hadn’t stirred. He was still sound asleep; the soft snores had stopped.

This was for the best. He would ignore me come Monday, just like he did with all the others. Mattheo hooked up with half the girls at Hogwarts. Ok, that was an exaggeration, but still it was a fair amount. I was just another notch in his belt.

The stone floor of the castle was cold as I ran to my room.

Saturday morning, Mattheo spent all of breakfast glaring at me. His sharp gaze burned holes into me, making my skin prickle with unease. I tried to ignore him. But it was nerve wrecking. Was he mad that he slept with me the enemy? Maybe he saw it as a mistake, just like I thought he would.  I didn’t regret it and was willing to move on from it. We were humans with needs, and we gave into those needs. It was ok.

Maybe we should have stayed one-sided longing. That would have been way simpler. I expected for him to be colder during Herbology tomorrow. And since he was my desk mate that thought made my stomach churn.

By Sunday night, I was heading back to my common room when something soft hit me in the face. I caught it instinctively. It was my cardigan I must have forgotten it in Mattheo’s room.

I turned to see him leaning casually against the wall a nonchalant look on his face. But there was tension in his shoulder betraying his calm persona.

“Why did you throw this at me?” I asked, slipping it over the dress I was wearing.

The thing smelled like him.

“Why did you leave?”  His voice was tight, and jaw clenched like he was trying to keep himself under control.

“I figured you would want me gone in the morning,” I avoided his gaze “Act like it never happened.”

“Why?” he pressed.

“Because I know your reputation.” I muttered shrugging before adding. “I Know how you are.”

His gaze hardened. Without any warning he grabbed my wrist, pulling me closer.

 “And what is it you think you know, then?” His voice was calm, but the tension in his words rippled through the air.

I sighed narrowing my eyes at him. I had no idea what he was up to.

“I know enough. Enough to know how this goes.”

I yanked my wrist free, but he took a deliberate step forward. Closing the gap, I tried to make between us.

“Enough?”

“You only sleep with girls once and want them gone as soon as possible,” I whispered. “So, I left. Its ok everyone has needs, and their boundaries. I knew that before we ended up in your bed.”

A smirk tugged at Mattheo’s lips; it didn’t reach his eyes. He tilted his head, his brown eyes studying me with a mix of amusement and frustration.

“Is that so? I just toss people aside?” He raised an eyebrow. “You really don’t know me at all, do you?”

“You don’t keep people around,” I snapped, my voice rising. “You just use them, then forget about them.”

I sounded like a jealous girlfriend. And that was the last thing I was. I knew how he was and respected that, and I wasn’t about to cling on to a boy who didn’t care. So, what the hell was his problem. Most guys would be content with my actions.

 “Maybe you’ve got it all wrong,” he said quietly, his tone soft. “Maybe... I don’t want you to be just another girl.”

I stiffened. “I have never seen you with the same girl twice. Like I said it’s fine.”

Mattheo’s lips pressed into a tight line as he stared at me, his expression unreadable. We stared at each other in silence for what must have been a minute. I rolled my eyes and turned to leave. This conversation was going nowhere. His hand caught my wrist again, halting my steps.

“You can pretend to know me all you want, but I don’t think you do. Because I don’t let go of what I want. And right now... I want you.”  he murmured against the shell of my ear, his voice a low growl.

“We are supposed to be enemies.” I whispered staring at the brick wall in front of me.

His fingers danced lightly across my neck, brushing my hair over to one shoulder. “I suppose we are.” He leaned in.

I gasped softly when he pressed his lips against my neck, warm and deliberate. He was playing dirty, and he knew it. “You are a Slytherin, and I am a Gryffin-“

My words dissolved into a sharp intake of breath when his teeth grazed my sensitive skin. My pulse began to quicken.

“Semantics.”  He muttered.

He trailed kisses up and down the curve of my neck, each one more calculated then the last, as if he knew exactly how to unravel me. My eyes fluttered shut and I tilted my head giving him more access.

“You stubborn girl.”  he whispered against my pulse, before placing another kiss. “I said I don’t want you to be just another girl”

“Mattheo.” I breathed out.

My words died on my lips when he nipped at my skin. I almost let out a moan.

I leaned back into him, feeling one of his arms snaking around my stomach, pulling me flush against his chest. I heard an atta girl murmured so low. His lips ghosted over my shoulder as he shifted my sweater aside, placing tender kisses on the exposed skin.

He knew he had me.

His hand tilted my face slightly, forcing me to meet his gaze from the side. His fingers brushed lightly along my jawline, sending shivers through me.

“Do you want me?”

It was such a simple question, with a heavy answer.

“I think so.” I mumbled, a blush rising on my cheeks.

A cheeky smile tugged at his lips. “Then its settled.”

Before I could ask what, he meant, his lips met mine. The angle was awkward, but the kiss was nothing short of intoxicating. It was hungry and passionate. Very different from the kiss we shared Friday. It left me breathless.

When he pulled away the arm still across my stomach spun me, so I was facing him. Mattheo rested his forehead against mine, his hands settling on my hips. The air between us was still charged. His eyes searched mine, as though he was trying to say something he couldn’t find the words for.

“Mattheo.” I said once I caught my breath. “What happens now?”

His lips quirked into the faintest of smiles, though his gaze remained serious. “That depends on you, I’ve already decided what I want.”

I swallowed hard, pulling my head back. This wasn’t supposed to happen—not like this. We weren’t supposed to be here, tangled together like we belonged.

“But we’re...” I trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. I was sounding like a robot.

“House Enemies?” he asked, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. “You think that matters? You think I care about some stupid rivalry when it’s you I can’t stop thinking about?”

My breath hitched, and he took that moment to tilt my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.

“You want this too,” he said, his voice assertive. “I know you do. So, stop running, stop overthinking, and just—”

He paused, his thumb brushing my cheek. “Stay.”

An ok was all I could muster.

His expression softened. A flicker of relief crossed his face, so fleeting that if I blinked, I might have missed it.

“Okay?” he repeated in a teasing whisper.

I nodded, my hands instinctively finding their way to his chest. His heart was pounding just as wildly as mine, a steady rhythm beneath my fingertips.

Then, slowly, he closed the gap between us, his lips brushing mine again with a tenderness that stole the air from my lungs instantly. This kiss was careful, deliberate.

When he pulled back, his hands still cradled my face. “We’ll figure it out. One step at a time.”

I wanted to believe him. But the part of me that always played it safe knew that this wasn’t going to be easy.

“Mattheo,” I said hesitantly. “What if this doesn’t work?”

His lips quirked into a smirk, though his eyes held a warmth that made my chest ache. “It’ll work,” he said simply. “Because I’m not letting you go. Not now. Not ever.”

The conviction in his words sent a shiver down my spine, and before I could respond with doubt, he kissed me again, this time with a hunger that made my knees weak.

“Is this going to be your solution for everything? Kiss me every time I hesitate?” I asked when he pulled away.

Mattheo’s hand slid down to intertwine with mine, his thumb brushing soothing circles against my skin.

“Yes, because you can’t tell me you don’t feel we are right for each other.”

I bit my lip and sent him a shy smile.

“Come on,” he said, his voice lighter now, almost teasing. “Let’s get you back to your common room before you change your mind and start overthinking again.”

I laughed softly despite myself, shaking my head. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re stubborn,” he shot back, grinning. “Guess we make a good match, don’t we?”