#well always good to have a bit of a reflection on where to go next with one's art!

[sketching-shark]

Recently was reminded of the oldest image of Sun Wukong I made and put up on this site, and while I can't say that I've improved that much technically as an artiste the tonal shift from then to my most recent illustration of everyone's favorite monkey certainly is Something.

[burymagdalene]

New Year's Wish - S. Reid x Reader

In which reader has to "deal" with their horny boyfriend attached to their hip all night, leading them to sort him out in the bathroom.

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader genre: Fluff & Smut (18+ pls pls) tags: subbyish spencer, semi-public sex, fondling, masturbation (m receiving) just a bit of crying, overstimulation.. smut, and love! wc: 2.2k. a/n: My first fic that came to fruition after a flu spell! I had a vision for the vibe of this but didn't know how to attach them in the cute 3 pictures above a fanfiction way.. sorry-- I DID IT

New Year’s Eve always feels like that holiday where you always have high hopes for, but consistently falls flat. Luckily, this year you have your sweet boyfriend, Spencer by your side to help you through the social interactions with mutual friends all night. Though, the alcohol helps alongside that as well. 

You’re looking into the mirror with squinted eyes at your reflection, analyzing what more to add to your outfit as Spencer gawks at you from your bed. “Spence, should I have my striped tights with this dress, or no tights? I’m worried I’ll be freezing.”

Spencer forcibly peels his eyes away from your curves in the tight dark gray dress you have on. “Tights. Yeah.” He pulls his lips in for a polite smile.

“Roger that!” You walk over to retrieve the tights from your dresser, Spencer’s music plays softly from a speaker and you sway along to it, “I like this one.” You walk back over to your boyfriend who still sits rigidly on your bed, despite how many times he’s been in it. 

“Would you like to do the honors?” With a hand reached out, you display the tights to Spencer.

Spencer gives you a full-tooth grin, “Why yes I would” and pats the space next to him on your bed. You dramatically plop down as Spencer stands up, between your legs. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you smile at Spencer as he starts to pull one of your stocking legs up your foot. Slowly shimmying it up, he traces over your ankle and up your calf. 

“I’m a little nervous for tonight, I haven’t been to this house party in a couple years, but it was pretty fun last time,” you make conversation. Your good friend Tatum had invited you and Spencer to come to a New Year’s Eve house party at her boyfriend, Eric’s house. You had been a few years prior in support of her endeavors of seducing said Eric, which obviously went well. 

Spencer hums and once the other leg has been covered, takes your hands to pull you up so that you’re standing and he can pull the tights up your waist. His hands flip your dress up to pull over your underwear and straighten it back down once the tights are on. “So pretty,” he starts laughing “you look so pretty you don’t have to be nervous about anything ever.”

“Shut up,” you giggle and pull him by his neck in for a kiss. “Let’s go, the sooner we leave the sooner I can rummage through Eric's stuff.”

Within 30 minutes you have arrived at Eric's, made pleasantries, taken a shot with your friend and some of her friends you pretend to know the names of, and are sitting on the couch side-by-side with Spencer, who has his hand freakishly high up your thigh.

Conversation goes better than your pre-party nerves prompted you to believe, there’s a good amount of people so that you can watch, and the wine being served was not bitterly disgusting. 

Spencer now rests his head on your shoulder, his side pressed neatly up against yours as he draws mindless circles into your patterned tights. He slowly moves up to your ear “kiss?” he mumbles softly. 

You position yourself so you're craning down a bit to make eye contact, and raise a suspicious eyebrow. PDA is not something Spencer is obsessed with, so kissing in a room with a large group of people should’ve been your first warning of how Spencer was feeling tonight. Regardless, you relent, how could you not kiss him in any circumstance? You lean down and peck him softly. 

Spencer sighs into the kiss, and sighs even harder when you pull away. You giggle and poke his side softly with your index finger. “I think we’re supposed to save all the kissing for midnight, love.” 

He lazily laughs, shifts his head and plants a wet kiss onto your exposed neck, which causes you to blush with how open he’s being in front of everyone. “Who made that rule,” he whines “I thought you’re allowed to kiss whenever but are supposed to especially kiss at midnight.”

“Hmm, well actually I don’t kno-” he cuts you off with a giggle and a firm kiss to your lips. You pull away, blush covering your face. “Okay.. ummm” you fidget a bit and stand up for a moment after plotting, pulling Spencer up by his hands. 

You take him upstairs to the bathroom for guests of the host, not the bathroom downstairs for every other partygoer, and shut the door behind you both. “Spencer!” you laugh as he softly pushes you up against the door and whines a pitiful “sorry” between the kisses he’s peppering on your neck and chest. 

Your eyes instinctively flutter shut for a moment as you whisper “just for a bit.. I wanna hang out some more still…”

Spencer laughs against your neck, “yeah, sure.” You shake your head in disbelief at how cocky he is, well, rightfully is. He pulls away and tucks your hair behind your ears, eyes staring at your face. Spencer trails his hands from where they’re cupping your face slowly down your neck, tracing your skin, to where your dress scoops down on your chest. “This dress.. So perfect.” He smiles at you. 

“Hmm, thank you. Thought that you might like it.” You play with his tie around his neck, untightening it just a bit. You use it as leverage to pull him towards the sink, which you are now hopping up on to take a seat. Spencer menuevers himself between your legs, wraps his hands around your waist and deepens the kiss. 

Typically, it shouldn’t shock you that Spencer can get hard relatively quickly when kissing you, because you yourself are getting a little shifty with desire as the kiss continues. However, the firmness of his boner against your inner thigh makes you want to mock him for it anyway. 

“Spencer! You’re hard!” You laugh and push him back a little so you can look at it. Though you enjoy embarrassing him for it, the desire you have to immediately look at it, touch it, talk about it, reveals how excited you are about it. 

Spencer lets his head fall back, “I can’t help it! Please stay here a little longer.” He begs softly with a grin of amusement. 

You trace your fingertips down his button up shirt and unbutton the bottom three buttons slowly, moving them to his side so you can properly graze your nails against where his happy trail begins above his pants. “I dunno…” you tease and work your hand around the outline of his dick through his trousers, a rush of air blowing out of Spencer's nose. “It sounds like they’re having a lot of fun down there.” 

“I could be having a lot of fun down there!” Spencer quips, referring to his boner that's painfully twitching against his leg now. 

Testing his limits, you slip away from him and jump back down to the floor, readjusting your dress. “How about you just take care of yourself baby?” You joke, expecting a huff and a petulant eye roll coming from Spencer in return.

Instead, he lets out a deep sigh immediately followed by a quiet “kay,” as he quickly unbuckles his belt, stunning you. 

You stare at his ministrations, quite frantic with how desperately he’s trying to take his dick out. Spencer pulls his underwear down just enough so that he can grip himself, his leaky tip not going unnoticed with the carefully constructed bathroom mood lighting. 

Spencer takes his shaky hand and carefully rubs his tip with his palm covering it, he squeezes his eyes shut in pleasure as his jaw drops.

Your jaw is also dropped as you watch your boyfriend whine with every tug he’s giving his dick. You’re stuck between staying and watching, maybe even giving this poor soul a break and helping him out, and continuing your teasing nature with getting ready to go back downstairs. You two make eye contact in the mirror.

You pull up your purse from the ground onto the sink, rummaging through it to find your lipstick. Looking in the mirror, it's all smudged off and your hair is a bit of a ruffled mess with how Spencer’s fingers were just pulling through it. 

Spencer continues to work himself staring at you in the reflection. You apply your lip liner and he twists his fist around his dick, a small trail of precum dripping from his knuckles. You take out your ruddy lipstick and he grabs the counter with one hand, watching and working desperately hard to keep his eyes trained on your reflection. “Ah, my god, baby-” Spencer mumbles, the high pitched tone in his voice indicating just how unfair you’re being towards him. 

You gulp, feigning apathy, and toss your hair a bit in the mirror, fixing some strands and making it look like you were not being groped in the bathroom moments prior. Giving Spencer an award winning smile in the mirror he grips the base of his dick, holding off the inevitable so he can stare a little bit longer at you in the mirror.

Reaching over beside him to grab toilet paper, ignoring how his whines escalate as your body brushes his, you put the small piece of paper between your lips, dabbing off access lipstick onto it. You look over at Spencer's pinched eyebrows and hand him the toilet paper with your lipstick stain with a chuckle. 

Spencer makes a high pitched “mmn” as he grabs the paper, shaking his head at the situation, embarrassed with himself. Between his pointer and middle finger of his left hand the toilet paper is held loosely, his right hand starts moving up and down again.

Shuffling from side to side, every pass of his fist, every soft moan, makes your legs numb to the directions from your brain screaming at them to leave the room, join the festivities downstairs. “Jesus, Spence.” Your eyes travel directly to where he’s pumping himself, breaking eye contact. 

“Don’t want you to go,” he mumbles again. You can tell by the way he’s talking, mumbling and hushed that he’s focused only on cumming now. “Want, uh… wanna watch you till I-”

As much as you pride yourself in being a nonchalant, charismatic tease, the way your boyfriend's bottom lip quivers and his eyes wet, you absolutely cannot bring yourself to leave his shaking frame to cum in solitude. You’re not evil!

So you scoot towards him, butt pressing against the sink again as you pull Spencer in by the tie, sucking a mark into his flushed neck. He gasps and runs his thumb over the spot below his tip that makes him see stars and cums all over the lipstick printed toilet paper you gave him. The right side of Spencer’s neck now sporting the same lipstick print. 

The first time you try to help him out through this process is also a form of torture for Spencer. You push his hand aside and grip him yourself, sticky cum covering your hand immediately as he sucks in a sharp breath “I dunno..” he says through gritted teeth.

You pump him into overstimulation as he rocks his hips into and away from your fist, not knowing if he wants to accept the red hot pleasure coming from your hand right now or to hide from it. Pressing your body close to his was a mistake since now your pretty striped tights now have a suspiciously cum-looking stain on them.

“S-sorry,” Spencer feebly makes out as he catches his cum rolling down the fabric. “Shitt.” He draws out and squeezes his eyes shut in remorse and the only reaction you have is to laugh. The dramatics of his cum on your leg not impacting you as hard as Spencer, who is the one with oxytocin flowing down to his toes. 

You hum softly, slow your hand down his softening length and run your clean hand through his hair, moving it from his face. “That's okay baby, feel good?” Smiling dreamily at him, he cracks his weepy eyes open with a nod. 

“You actually c-cannot put that dress on again. I feel like a neanderthal.” Spencer's head falls against your shoulder. 

“Huh, well you might be in luck because I’m not sure I can put this dress on again because there is a gnarly cumstain on the bottom of it now.” You tease lightly and take his jaw in your hand for a kiss. 

Spencer winces and looks down, “Nuh uh! Just the tights. Cruel woman.”

The efforts you made to make yourself presentable earlier had to be repeated, alongside Spencer who you cleaned up with toilet paper and dabbed his eyes dry again. The two of you had actually missed the countdown into New Year which you are sure is because Spencer was whining too loudly for you two to hear the “3…2..1..” from voices downstairs, but most likely you two were kissing anyway, so whatever the rule is for kissing on New Years, you and Spencer rang in the New Year properly.

[chaoticshifter18]

My NON shifter friend shifted and she's in shock

I've openly talked to my friends about shifting for the 4 years I've been in the community, and they've always been skeptical but respectful about it, so it shocks me how my friend just told me she shifted the other day.

She says she woke up at 4 a.m and couldn't fall asleep back again, so she just went on tiktok and scrolled for hours, apparently listening to paranormal stories and that kind of stuff that only pops up on your fyp at 4 a.m (nothing about shifting btw). Without realizing it, she fell asleep, and she says she woke up in a place that looked nothing like her place.

She immediately thought "Am I in a sleepover?" "Whose house is this??", but the room she was in didn't look familiar AT ALL.

She says the walls were paper white, and there wasn't much furniture except for the bed she was in, a nightstand next to her, and a closet in front of her. The closet had a mirror, so she saw her reflection and noticed she was wearing her usual pijamas.

In that moment, she proceeded to touch everything and freak out about how unbelievably real everything felt. She touched her hands, her face, got on her feet and stomped on the floor... Every single thing she did just felt WAY. TOO. REAL. Her surroundings, her own body...

Guys she swears with her life it wasn't a dream.

The realization hit her, and she came by with the idea that she might have shifted. Out of her mind, she got out of the room and explored a little bit of the house. She says the house was huge and felt really modern and expensive.

As she was traveling through the corridors and getting down the stairs she couldn't help but freak out again and again. She couldn't believe it. And to make things worse, when she reached the ground floor, a group of people approached her and greeted her as if they knew her.

"Hey, did you sleep well?"

"Look who just woke up!!"

And she was like "Excuse me, who are you?". (She just thought it, she didn't say it)

Suddenly, a guy came by and KISSED HER, a guy she hadn't seen in her entire life, and he said:

"Darling, are you okay? What's wrong?"

That shocked her, but she just told him she was fine and says she got away from there as quick as possible.

In the living room, one of the walls was completely made out of glass, so she could perfectly see that they were in the middle of the forest and it was nighttime.

Since she didn't know where the hell she was and the situation was just TOO MUCH to handle, she proceeded to walk around the house in awe, and she says she did that for about FOUR HOURS.

Four freaking hours just staring at everything in denial and avoiding everyone.

At some point, she could't stand it anymore and layed in a couch with her eyes closed to try and shift back, but no matter how hard she tried to visualize her room and this reality, she kept opening her eyes to that damn house.

About to cry, se got up, went to the kitchen and sat down, she stayed there for a good hour just zoning out, and at some point, she says she heard her alarm (her CR alarm, cause she had to go to uni).

She claims she didn't even realize how or when it happened: in the blink of an eye, she was back at her CR, sitting down in her bed with her eyes WIDE OPEN and her heart racing.

And that's her storytime...

I feel sorry for the stress she went through, but this just proves to me everything that needed to be proved as my friend was the number one person to believe shifting's just lucid dreaming.

Thanks for reading and happy shifting!! <3

[kooyabooya]

INTERLUDE

m reader x haewon // 9k words

You’ll give credit where it’s due.

If not for her, you wouldn’t be here - and if not for you, she would have quit the logistical side of the show business a long, long time ago. 

She's written her own sweet, tragic, but beautiful tale of madness; willing to stay amidst the whirlwinds of shit she’s put herself through, and you can somewhat see as to why. 

It’s when she’s let herself into the space of your apartment, hours past of the usual and typical workday. Most of the reasons in this case have their own tales and periods of reflection the next morning - though, a common thread of events that you’ve been accustomed to is the trail of her heels leading a path to the couch, her handbag tossed off to the opposite end, sinking into the cushions. She’s tired, and very unbothered. 

You’re doing your own pat down not far from her. A jacket’s tossed onto the nearby chair of your dining table; the usual essentials of your phone, wallet, and one of many pairs of glasses also find their place away from your reach. 

“Since when the hell did you snag my keys from me?” You ask, patting down the quartet of pockets to realize the sudden item wasn’t part of the things you rummaged off your body. 

“It’s called sleight of hand, dear.” Haewon says, a phone spinning in the air and to a nearby pillow, “That’s what happens when you leave a key with me after our last outing. Have someone to blame? Let that be yourself.” 

“I was wondering why you were taking longer getting out of the car.” 

“Girls like to take their sweet time.” 

“Your point being?” 

“My point?” She sits up and leans forward, diverting her attention towards one of the gacha items that you got as a gift from one of her clients - a token of gratitude, for being wonderful with me - you recall the memory for a split second, and Haewon keeps on flipping it around between her fingers. “Don’t get too pressed now. It’s not like you would be locked out of your house for that long. Besides, your landlord’s seen me with you more times than he can count. If I were to ask him for the master key, he’d probably say yes.” 

“Speculation,” you breathe, “Honestly, you can try, and I think you could be on his good side for all I know.” 

A few wisps of her hair fall far off the side, and she pulls it back with a single finger. Even in the dimmest of lightings, you can still see the small twinge of her nose pulling back, flaring her nostrils. Then she flicks her eyes back toward you, hooking. “You’ve always let me lead the way, and you’re following not far behind.” 

You’re tending to the cuffs of your shirt, rolling them up just below the elbows. “I do a whole lot more than just my job.” 

“Tch,” Haewon’s got the tip of her tongue on her upper teeth. “You know well enough that it cuts both ways.” 

Almost as if this was practiced on cue, these sliding strides you make as Haewon picks herself up from her seat, it’s like two characters taking center stage. The lighting’s barely peeking through for you to see where everything’s leveled. Doesn’t matter how much effort you put into it, Haewon’s frame is the only thing you see, the weight on your shoulders start to droop from the imaginary weight on them. You can probably settle with how the luminating radiance of the night sky showers her porcelain skin or the way her silhouette molds itself in the meshing colors of this cozy dark blue pooling through behind her. There’s also the fleeting realization that this is your space that she’s nestling in. But you can’t ignore the sudden occasional chill that sweeps through every time she walks in - even when it’s after hours, the effect is still in play. 

Haewon’s treating another few strands of her hair behind her ear before looking down at the small toy on your table top. “Not a bad idea for you to start a collection going.” 

You glance over her shoulder and pull a firm grin across your face. “You know, I was a bit perplexed in why she gave that to me in the first place - after I politely refused so many times.” A shake of your head and a sigh follows instantly after. “But the more I look at it, it’s pretty cute to have. Brings a whole lot of variety in the place right off the bat.” 

Haewon dips her head down, hiding a subtle smirk when touches the tips of her socks on the floor. “I know that you fancy your books and everything but, I was happy that you took her gift in the end.” 

“Expecting me to just say no?” 

“Blind boxes are a life lesson too. People expect one thing and when they don’t get what they want, they’re pretty torn to whether to be happy or not with what they pulled. Now that I think about it, the same lesson can be seen in Forrest Gump when he’s sitting on the bench with the old lady.” 

“A lot of people can resonate with Forrest in that moment. Probably because almost everybody’s got something that they didn’t want in the first place, and I’ll take your word for it.” You slide your hands into your pockets, rolling your shoulders back. “Makes people appreciate the many things they have.” 

Haewon cocks her head towards her left, bringing it back upright once her body’s facing yours. You’re holding your breath here for a second, swallowing a lump of nervousness down your throat. She’s got it all: the intellect, the beauty, the poise. Each and every single one of those thoughts crosses both ways in your mind, it’s been like that since you got paired with her. The authenticity of her presence doubles down what’s written on paper. Like any fool in this scenario, you carry on, thinking about all of the things you’d never thought you’d do with her - the way she tries to hide the growing blush on her face when your arms hold her, how her eyelids lower their guard when you’re closing the proximity to mere inches, how she sighs with a finger pressed to her temple before whipping some of her hair back - adorable, and perfect. There’s really no other way to describe it, or her; even if she’s not very adamant into accepting the meaningful compliments. 

“Maybe you’re right.” Her small frame nestles itself easily at your front and she’s happily dancing her fingers at the pointe end of your necktie, fiddling along with the button beneath it. You’re deluding yourself at the imaginary tug she has on you and she’s barely laid a finger. “Scratch that, I wholeheartedly agree.” 

You’d wish that you could make a quick snapshot back to the very time you first unraveled her in your home, on an evening whim just like this. The proposition of pulling up a mental calendar and ripping off the pages backwards to a full two years of working with her. Though, you’re able to automatically deduce the fact of the time you and her actually spent working together - a good portion of those cases in the sheets which is worth considering - but despite all that, there’s a good report to draw up in your head where the times flowed in fluctuations, much like in a spectrogram. Some of the days with her peaked higher than the rest, and others were on the opposite end of the spectrum. That’s just how this rapport- this relationship was. 

Haewon never really dabbled with the idea of putting a label on this ‘thing’ you have with her. 

It could be a relationship, or maybe it couldn’t. She would always immediately shut down that thought circling around your brain. 

A tried and true method in getting your hopes up. And each and every time she shot your heart down. It would send you in limbo for what feels like an endless string of days, the firm tone with her delivery very clear and straight to the point. You can’t help yourself in waiting for something to change; heck, it’s possibly everything you ever wanted with her. 

It also didn’t help when the people in your inner circle were already in their own walks of life, blooming into something beautiful with their significant others; while you’re sitting off to the side, watching them from a distance as it feels like with every passing day, you’re falling further and further behind. There isn’t enough space in your journal, let alone the selection of drinks to choose from after being downed, but the feeling remains all the same - it’s a harrowing want to fill that depression oh-so desperately. 

“Whatever happened to ‘keeping things professional’?” Dipping your head down as the tip of your nose hovers right above her head, catching the first few whiffs of that oceanic scent used in her shampoo. “Wasn’t it your words exclusively that we would stop what we’re doing now? At this moment?” 

This time, you were the one to raise that wall up, hoping that it’ll stick after being broken down so many times. 

“Mine?” Haewon blurts out once her hands finally reach to the lines of your shoulders, palms sliding along the fabric of your shirt. “What about it? Don’t try to flip this back on me when we were just talking outside in the staircase and then you decided to push me against the door, perch my chin up and-” 

“Haewon.” 

“One night. That one night. You-” 

“Haewon.” You know that she’s primarily the one who likes to repeat herself at times to get her point across, but not tonight.

She sighs, head falling forward in your chest. “Alright, I’ll bite. Yes, those were my words, and I stand by them. She’s trying her hardest to ignore your overwhelming stature, because she knows your truth; she knows, and knows, and knows.“But that doesn’t mean that what I tell you is enough to sway your mind, nor your choice.”

Her words tell you one thing, but her body welled up against yours tells you another. 

“Haewon,” you repeat again, blinking it through. Your voice slightly chokes up when her thumb skates up the line of your jaw, letting her pull get the best of you, breath canvassing the slope where your chin and neck meet. “You’re not helping yourself here.” 

“It’s been a long day,” she admits, kissing you foolishly, her fingers slither to the back of your head. Your hands have a mind of their own while it tries to scrounge up what’s left of her melting figure, humming gently into your skin. “You could’ve like- taken me home, or something. Rather than bring me here, because we both know how this story goes.” 

“Don’t get all sensical with me now,” you say to her, hand quick to her wrist in an attempt to stop her, but she’s seen that card played before. “You were the one to tell me to get the hell out of the office as fast as we could, and here we are.” 

Haewon flashes her eyes at you, narrowing her expression with the simple tilt of her head. “I guess you’re right. Either I call a cab home or have you as my personal driver. Looks like the second option was the best one to pick between the two.” 

“You did look tired.” 

“Because I am.” Her eyebrows ruffle against each other when you drop the blunt response as she returns to the slacked neck along with her wrists. “After the shitstorm with Bae, and then with Sullyoon? God, don’t even get me started. You were there when everything went down.” 

“In fact I was.” 

She scowls with a much more dragged out tone with her voice, the stress pressing down on her lips returning to their familiar parted place. “I’m trying so hard to not think about it, but it’s just- ugh.” 

“A problem to be dealt with tomorrow,” you tell her, hands bringing her closer to your waist. “Just don’t think.” 

“Easy for you to say.” Haewon deadpans, her face shifting flat with dead eyes. “And it’s easier for it to be said than done.” 

“Why not do it, then?” 

“Huh?” 

“I’m asking you to not focus on work for once, genius.” 

“This is me not focusing on work,” she says, pouting, “you’re the one who’s not letting me go in the first place.” 

You manage to look away for a quick second, closing your eyes to fight back the growing cringe rising on your face. “Says the one who waltzed into my house and arms right now.” 

Haewon lets out another dry laugh, resting the side of her face below your collar, pulling down on the slightly untied knot. “Well, I guess I can let you have that over me. I’ll admit that.” 

A deep inhale puffs up your chest as you’re carding your fingers into those coffee brown locks of her hair, massaging her temple. 

“Consider that to be one of your few wins against my arguments. Why bother tell you my personal thoughts about the details we talked about in the meetings earlier, or even in the office.” She sighs again deeply, burrowing herself into your embrace. “What I would do to give that pretty dumbass a-” 

“I’m pretty sure you’ve already said that to her earlier, by the way.” 

Haewon looks up again, recalling for a quick second, closing her lips before sounding a simple hum. “Right, I guess I did.” 

“You don’t have to handle this all by yourself, you know.” 

“What if I want to, hm?” She beams. The flip in her mood is always an anomaly in the way that she’s brushing herself up closer to you. “You know my business - my affairs, but I didn’t tell you all of them.” 

You’re well familiar with the playing field she’s setting up here. It’s a battleground that’s seen it all between the two of you, the losses outweighing the victories (and by an overwhelming margin on her end too). She’s always the one to initiate, to set up, your thoughts already getting ahead with the same downward tilt of your head, hands caressing the fabric of her skirt, finding a familiar hold of her hips like one would always do at the start of every slow dance. 

Of course you stay silent, blinking. “Well- Haewon, I’ve got no other choice but to hear you ramble all about them, since it’s my job.” 

“You know most of them.” 

“Like you said: most.” 

Haewon rests herself into you, the lines of tape gradually coming undone. The scent of her shampoo hits your nose a little bit harder this time, her palms sliding up across your chest again. She innocently tilts her head up, parting her lips; tiny, rosy, and dangerously inviting. You have no other thought filling your mind but to lift her up and capture her all to yourself. 

Her lips are like putty - easy to form and mold into the shape that you like. But you pull yourself back, a last line of defense before her eyes and hands have their own say. “Could you say that this is a choice too?” 

“Hm.” She tilts herself upwards into the line of your neck, each quick kiss sending both your heart and mind into echelons higher than cloud nine, melting with every touch until she has your head in between her palms, holding you gently. The blinks she gives are slow, and her breath hitting your face leaves you to your own devices. “What you do with me is always a choice.” 

You retreat for a moment, pulling yourself far away where you can, Haewon’s body still within reach in your arms, forming a wall of air between the space of your chest and hers. “I feel like what we do is already risky as it seems, no? Sure, we see each other on a regular basis, deal with what needs to be done with the day, talking to clients, making sure things are right for the events, going back and forth with no definite pause in between.” Didn’t matter if she was out of the country or mere inches away from you, she’s always about work it seems - like that was the only mode programmed in her mind. “More often than not, I’m treating what damage is done which usually ends up with a few bottles of beer and don’t even get me started on how bad of a lightweight you are-” 

“Uh, rude.” Haewon pays no attention to you. Her thumb grazes your cheek again, and you can’t help the way that you’re leaning into her touch, once realizing that what you said might be too much. You feel your head being reeled in lower and lower, until you feel the tip of her nose hit the cuff of your ear. “But you’re not wrong, and I’m sorry that you have to put up with me that way.” 

Nodding was something that you always used to acknowledge her opinions or thoughts, and it isn’t any different here. 

However, your hands are playing a different role: traversing their way into the two small divots below the small of her back, resting just right above her ass. She’s getting herself more and more comfortable, undoing the first three buttons of her shirt, inviting you to dive into the new opening. You keep on gazing into her slightly swollen lips, studying at how quickly her tongue wets the bottom part, and you draw another swift inhale past your teeth before answering, “There’s no need for you to apologize, especially to me.”

Haewon keeps on pulling the undone tie, the knot basically nonexistent the more she pulls down, eventually sliding it out of your collar and onto the floor. She gives it a quick glance when it pools over her feet and yours, and her lapin eyes land on yours again, bottom lip captured between her teeth. “I just feel bad, you know? And part of me thinks that it’s only a matter of time until you’ve had enough and want to-” 

You shut her up before she keeps up the self-lament, meshing her lips against yours, wanting her to be persuaded in a different manner - one with less words and more actions. 

Drawing back, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. And even if I ever had the chance to, I’d straight up say no.” 

“Look at you, so easygoing.”

“I-” 

“At some point,” she breathes, ghosting her face over yours, tugging on that want for you to chase after. “I’d thought you’d give up on forgiving me.” 

“For?” 

“Anything, really.” Haewon answers admittedly. “Whether it’s here or in the office, you have that same look in your eyes, the one filled with sorrow. It hurt me a bit.” 

Maybe right now would be the time to remind her that what she’s thinking is nothing but complete bullshit. 

So you lean down again, and pull her close. Another snapshot taken in the back of your mind. 

Two years is a long time. Two years of the same routine over and over, of working with her, unwinding after the long hours hidden away from everyone else, watching her work herself down to the bone, doing all of these things as if she’s going to die in the next five seconds if she doesn’t keep going. She’s rising to every occasion that she can, moving so fast that you can’t even bear to keep up with her. You’d admire from a distance, in awe, all while you’re at her right-hand side, unwilling to say anything to her. Obviously when she needed to get her mind off of something, or everything for that matter, she wasn’t the kind of person to be upfront about what she wants and let you read into the signs. Luckily, you’ve always noticed at a glance, and even if she isn’t the one to puff out her lips and kiss you first. No. Never. That’s a luxury that’s reserved for you and only you. Because all it takes is one look into your eyes, and the way she’s broken you down like this, she’s very aware of what your downfall is: her. 

All of this is a continuation of a growing culmination, her own personal anthology sprouted from her brain, one which you’ve caught wind of gradually. 

When you’re kissing into her again, hard, you start to feel everything around you collapse. It’s in the way that she smiles against your lips, matching every curve you give her - it’s amazing, and you could write poems of all the good things about Haewon - you’re reminded again and again how out of all the moments in the high achieving days and miserable nights, these instances feel just right. She’s drawing air into her nose, grazing your cheek, never wanting to pull each other away; until you’re sucking the oxygen out of each other’s mouths that leaves the both of you suffocating a bit. It’s all foolish, maybe just a bit, and to hell with the consequences awaiting you at the end of the bridge, because she knows that she’ll be in a safe place as long as it’s with you. 

The arch in her back rises, and you’re clinging tighter into her smaller frame, shoulder bunching up next to her neck, making it easier for you to hold. You can tell her breaths and hums are getting desperate, her own little mess up the more she melts into you. 

You’re not helping her in this situation, and it definitely isn’t the first time you’ve done this to her. She’s hooking her arm well around your neck, the only line of support while you’re taking care of the rest, letting her wrists fall slack as you keep on your loving siege on her lips. 

She’s had a rough one this week. A red eye flight back from a fashion week, an entire day of going to ten different locations with one of her top clients, then there’s the whole incident with Bae and Sullyoon back to back. Amongst all of those things, you’d wish that you’d sweep her away for just a second and take her mind off from all the pressures and stress (and you definitely wished you didn’t wait until now to finally do it). 

“Mmmm,” Haewon lets her voice rumble in her throat, tightening her grip in the back of your collar, signaling you to pull away. When you do, her eyes pool into yours, shimmering pupils working overtime to map out the lines of your face. You could feel the heat from her cheeks grow warmer. Her eyes cross for a second. She lets her head go crestfallen, pulling this one smile, her simplest smile, the rarest one she could ever have that not a lot of people have had the pleasure of seeing. The gentlest and most genuine one that she could have, it sells the whole thing to you. Despite her tough shell, you realize that she’s one of the rare few that sends your heart flipping, every time she’s got your guard lowered - exactly in the way like this - it’s impossible to ignore the outshining tempts when all of your inhibitions are at their lowest. 

Her head goes one side, and then the opposite, “I don’t expect you to forgive me for this.” 

Today’s been one of those days. You’re tired, even beyond tired. If she didn’t come with you, the bed would’ve been full by now. Two years of the on and off and the off and on, it’s draining. You don’t say anything, as always. Instead, you swoop down beneath her thighs and carry her, taking her lips all to yourself. 

She hums this heavenly noise when you press her against the wall, her legs hooking to a familiar spot where it hasn’t been in a while. Some of the buttons in her shirt come more undone not to your knowledge, but you play the counterpart when tending to the clip and zipper of her skirt. Luckily your body can work in two places at once, returning your focus to Haewon’s face, a sweep of her tongue over your bottom lip. 

The pressure to her waist is not too little nor too much, but just the right amount of press when your leg plays this momentary support underneath her legs, helping her slip out of her shirt while she does the same to you. Almost like you’re opening the pages of a book you finished reading, but flipping through to a certain part like the untouched skin of her chest with her simple black bra playing as the final back line of garments waiting to be discarded. She does that part all by herself, indulging on the breadth of her collarbone, forcing her to bite down a soft moan. 

Haewon here isn't one to play nice. There’s a bit of a tug-of-war going on with your mouths until you gnaw on her lips a bit too hard, wanting you to do that again the way her face is chasing after yours. But her eyes find their place in line again, gaze softening - you’re cursing at yourself because of how beautiful she looks like this. She’s always been one to have a heart of steel, create that dam covering her fragile trust, her arms wrap you in her embrace, eyes hinting at a sign of concern. The flame in your heart has gone cold, but she’s always been the one fanning the fire back to life. 

When you let her down gently, back sliding against the smooth drywall, her arms shift over her head - opening up the area of her midriff to see, to feel. Your palms have never felt anything smoother until they’re slipping the skirt off from her hips, curling over the waistband of her underwear and she fills the open space between your mouths, “fix me up baby, please.” 

Most of her solid-colored panties get caught between your knuckles, skating down her thigh - you’re hunting, searching, till you reach that empowering heat between her thighs. You could feel the top part of her forearm press firmly on the nape of your neck while one of her shoulder blades drags itself against the wall behind her. 

A drag up, then down across her folds, and she rasps. 

You get a finger in, maybe two just to test, feeling her body tense and grasp and hook onto anything within her reach. Little by little, piece by piece, Haewon’s gradually reduced to these mere meeked noises and hums the more your hands and lips begin their grand assault across the fine canvas of her body. The wetness consumes your fingers, and your mouth increasingly gets greedy as you’re nibbling away at the firm mound of her now exposed breasts, her bra gone in one swift move, mind focusing on too many feelings all at once. 

Her head lolls up and over, opening up the left side of her neck for you to take, gasping. She can’t stop squirming in place, and you’ll deal with that soon enough. “I love your hands,” she sighs. “God, you sure know how to satisfy a woman.” 

Your brain is working on the clock, finding all of the niche places and spots on her body to get her needy for more, and she’s playing spectator, the pad of your tongue swipes upward at the midline of her chest, capturing the hard bud of her nipple between your thumb and index, twisting without a care of her quick pain. 

Haewon gets both of her hands around your head, pulling you up from drowning beneath her neck, showering your face with kisses, forehead pressing against yours, “Happy with your reward?” 

You’ll give credit where it’s due. You hate how intoxicating she is with the snarky remarks and fast banter, but you love how simple she is to break down - send her mind into a downward spiral. She could let you ruin her life, and it would be the same for you. 

It takes a moment too long to consider, your brain is running through the playbook of all the moves and positions you could have her in, which spot in your house would be the most ideal place to simply just bend her over and tear her insides apart until she won’t be able to walk or think straight. A woman like her: clothes pooled and scattered everywhere at her feet, swollen lips and tattered skin just waiting to be ruined. 

Haewon knows you well, where all she has to do is say something to snap your attention back to her: “How do you want me?” 

She’s selfish, there’s no denying that. Though, she doesn’t really care what you think when she’s kissing you shamelessly once more, smushing and smacking her lips across your face, letting her have her way and to sink into her body again. But here is where she forgets, another callback of the few other times she got too ahead of the curve too soon- 

“I think I find you to be prettier when you’re like this,” you tell her, quickly sinking down to your knees moving her thighs over your shoulders; get your face close to that warm, delightful fountain between her thighs when you lift her up from the floor, holding her there. 

-to realize that you too, are also selfish in your own accord; at some point, there’s a time to prove who has what between the two of you, and the sigh of acknowledgment slipping out of her lips gives just enough that you’re doing something right. 

It all could’ve gone wrong for Haewon at any given point in the time you’ve been working with her. All it took was a few mishaps both in and out of her control and she would’ve snapped. In those dire times of need, she had you. Whether it’d be your mouth or your fingers, the way you settle into these well-practiced strokes of your tongue and cock, and she loves to travel down the little rite of passage when you shut her up with a palm on her mouth or a hand to her throat. She knows that you have your limits, and it’s all in her cards for when she’s able to unshackle you from your common sensibilities. A hand is raked into your hair as you’re shifting your head closer and closer, until your breath starts to blanket her leaking entrance, awaiting for your arrival. 

There’s a few mumbles spilling out of her lips when you gently kiss her folds, brush your nose right up against her clit, to where her head bucks forward, giving an unintentional style of wispy bangs the more your mouth starts to scoop up the mess that you’ve created. Her hips buck and jerk, pressing your head deeper into her quivering pussy lips, wanting to get that ache so much faster than intended. 

“God, yes baby- right there,” is all she says, and she can barely manage to prop her head upright when you look up from below. 

A chuckle leaves your nose, arming a coy smile before you carry on your attention onto her swollen clit, sucking and teasing on it shamelessly until you start to feel the insides of her thighs shake against your ears, digging her nails deep into your scalp. 

“Is this what you wanted?” you ask, feeling the pressure of Haewon’s legs crushing your skull from within. “Looks like you’ve been pent up for a while now, no?” 

Haewon digs a heel into your back, making you secure the tops of her thighs with your fingers, hitting her head back on the wall. “Among other things.” 

“Really.” You reply flatly, giving her another swift lick of your tongue into her aching cunt, her slick pooling across the wet pad. “Because judging how your body’s reacting, you’ve been wanting me badly since the last time.” 

“Sounds perfectly right.” 

She loses that hefty persona pretty damn quickly when you’re diving into her pussy again, stifling a moan, grinding  her hips into your head, wanting you to keep on licking until she’s had enough (spoiler alert: she hasn’t.) “Do tell me more,” you’re telling her, smacking your lips to the heat, “if you’re able to, of course.” 

“Seriously. Fuck you.” 

“Says the one who’s technically my boss.” 

“Not when it’s after hours I’m not.” 

“What are you implying?” 

Haewon’s eyes squint a bit, trying to keep focus, doubling down on the indulgence of your tongue over her folds. Her face is in a rosy shade of pink, similar to when she’s usually drunk - but this shade however, you’d prefer to see her more in. “Stop pretending to play dumb. I know you can read between the lines here.” 

“And what if I want to be oblivious for once? Like in every situation that we’re in while at work?” 

“You’re not, ah-” 

You’re not giving her any chance to breathe here. She doesn’t deserve it. And when you lather her pussy up in your spit, it’s less than an act of mercy, helplessly whining at the harshful gnawing you’re doing to her poor cunt - it’s what she wants, and she has no one to blame for making you like this but herself. 

“If you’re not my boss during these hours, then what are you?” You inquire.

“I’ll be anything but your boss. Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

That’s all the confirmation that you needed, forcefully plummeting her down to her inevitable demise. You feel the muscles in her thighs clench in shock from the unexpected anticipation, biting down her shriek the more you dive into the endless depths of her entrance, satisfying that want that you and her so desperately wanted. 

“Oh,” Haewon sighs out as some epiphany. But the moment of relief washes over her in no time, her layers folding. Collapsing. Her entire body wiggles in this circular motion. “Oh.” 

The heavenly chorus of her mewls fill your ears when you’re cementing your pace, wreaking havoc between her thighs. She’s still got her hand gripping the back of your head, the other flat on the wall. Her stomach bucks and folds at the weight of your tongue, moving your head around in different directions to make sure that you’re hitting every spot with the right approach. The pleasure is building in all of the right places, and you can feel the curl of her toes on your back, ensuring that you’re doing the exact job as her personal toy. “Fuck. Right there, right there.” 

It only increases the flood by tenfold. She’s spilling more and more you kiss, swirl, nibble, and tease - doing everything you can to make sure she reaches that unimaginable peak first. “You’re so good. You’re so so good. Baby- don’t stop, oh my god-” 

Haewon can’t help herself here, leaning her back deeper into the wall and dragging her hips outward, keeping both legs on your shoulders to the best that she can, unable to let up with the bucks and jolts her hips are making into your face. Every quick rush of air past her teeth only holds so much until she starts to feel her stomach bunch up in knots. 

“T-tongue, dear. Oh jesus, you’re so good at- fuck!” she yelps, the tailends of her breaths tattered in these hushed moans, picking up in volume the more you slurp up her pussy to your heart’s content. “Almost, almost.” 

You’re well aware of the fact that Haewon is one of the main catalysts when it comes to operating her job. She’s second to none. The standard. The spearhead. She’s got one of the most sizable clientele’s for a reason. But the jaws of work can consume anybody in this climate, no matter how on top or perfect they can be. It would only be a matter of time for the fatigue to get to her - and with the recent events happening around the office, it did just that. Everyone needs a break from time to time, and she’s no different here. A tongue laps up one spot past the clit, there’s a nibble of her swollen folds between your teeth, and here is where you step up to the role of ensuring that Haewon gets her much deserved intermission here. 

“Right there, I’m gonna-ah! -umming,” Haewon wails, failing to let up with the oral assault on her quivering cunt, her cries filling up your ears, the muscles of her legs locking your back in place, fingers tugging the roots of your hair. “Cumming. I’m fucking cumming.”

These puppy eyes you do to look up, she gazes down, bottom lip still stuck to her teeth as her expression tears, coming down from her needed stress relief. You stay the course in holding her steady, taking account of the lingering twitches and tensions of muscle her body does. 

And not long after, you finally let her down from the wall. Her arms slither around the familiar profiles of your back, lazily planting her lips onto your skin again - Haewon wants another taste of you. It’s also kind of cute how her toes stack up on top of your feet, prompting you to lead the way into the bedroom while she’s closely tethered to you. 

“Love it. Love it so much.” Haewon sighs out, half-lidded eyes caught in your vision. “Love it when you make me cum like that.” 

It’s one of the few moments where she doesn’t expect a response from you, because it’s already true. 

Above everything, you carry on with your steps as Haewon’s lips continue to spell out these hushed curses - all the things that she wants you to do to her - her fantasies, the praises, what she likes you doing and what she wants to do to you with the intent of returning the favor. Her figure is so light in your hands and on your feet, limbs loose enough to bend and twist, a marked up canvas ready for another brush-to-paper moment. 

Gravity here does it’s own thing when she falls backward onto the mattress of your room, her arms doing this natural reflex of going above her head, carving up these unbelievable curves in real time to where her back is off the comforters and her left foot is inching up against her inner right thigh. This image alone was enough for you to mindlessly slip out of your pants and underwear, eyes fixed on Haewon rolling her body: belly facing down, back up, her knees dig deep into the sheets, the upper half stretching a bit while her lower half rises up past your thighs, rounding out her hips. 

Her knees spread wider across the sheets and her back dips, you think - just a bit, and the look she does over her shoulder is the right amount of lethality. You don’t even flinch when she manages to get her fingers onto the length of your cock, telling you the only thing she wants you to do: 

“Take this cock and fuck me.” 

You’d follow her words no matter what. 

Like a siren’s call out in the sea, the sound of Haewon’s voice comes off as this daring risk where the mind starts to slowly reduce itself around her hand, languidly pumping you to the point where the urge to rip the fun out of her is impossible to ignore. 

“I’ve always wondered,” she starts to say. 

You lean down to shower a few kisses to her neck, fingers sliding up to her waist, pressing for a firm hold while an airy giggle passes her lips. 

“How long have you dealt with me? Being like this? 

“Where would I even start?” You hunch over with a trail of kisses down her lower back, cupping the swell of her ass while noting that most of her slick has spread past the underside and to the back of her thighs. “I don’t even remember who made the first move back then.” 

Haewon reaches out for one of your pillows, setting it between her arms and chest, “I’m sure it was you, or maybe it was me. Maybe-” 

A wistful gasp stops her from talking when you slowly press your cock into her leaking pussy, lips slicked up and inviting between those lovely thighs of hers. You drink in the sight of the grip she has around your length as you continue to ease yourself into her, keeping it together poorly before the heat and her pulse gets to your head. 

“Maybe what?” you tell her, attempting to bring back her train of thought from fleeing away. 

This girl who’s backside is arched so high up in the air and stomach buried deep into the sheets looks over her shoulder again, eyes filled with tension - a fire blazing beneath the irises. “Maybe- you were just oblivious about the signals I was sending you, but now that we’re here, I guess you can say that you made the curve.” 

“I won’t deny anything here-” Everything about this is the reality, anyway. You drag and push yourself into the fluttering heat of her second pair of lips. Her body is so responsive in the wants and needs just from the wetness alone, but she knows that you’re not easy to take. “That was an argument I lost a while ago.” 

Your hips flush with Haewon’s and she whines, shoving her face into the pillow set in front of her as she relaxes into the stable pace. A simple yank of her waist back to your thighs serves the only preamble, the quick groan ripped out of your chest, that rush of wanting this tightness and addicting feeling more and more. 

“Right?” You’re asking again, meshing her hips with yours, leaning forward and down to the nape of her neck. Sighs joining together in an impromptu chorus, “I’m not denying you winning me over.” 

Haewon’s hands here go a bit haywire, shooting up and out. One of them comes to grips with the comforter beneath her. You watch her body move, ass rippling through every pump back into her cunt. “Yeah, but you-” 

Her head then dips down into the pillow again, writhing in the twists left and right. You catch yourself hobbling over her upper body once more, lip trapped to your teeth. “You said ‘yeah’. Let’s keep it that way.” 

A gradual rhythm gets developed here, taking in every wonderful inch of Haewon’s dripping cunt, shaft picking up more and more slick with ease in every passing stroke. She’s so wonderfully tight around your length, molding to your cock like it’s the missing piece that makes her feel complete, and whole. There’s an attempt to level herself parallel to the mattress, but you don’t give her any kind of luxury whatsoever, pushing down on the small of her back that deepens the arch, nudging your cockhead down further past the threshold of her calefaction. 

You’re blinking, you’re believing, and you’re pretty much swearing to the heavens above at the thought out realization that Haewon was meant to be yours - like she was made for only you. She’s in the right position, taking you at just the right angle, all sensibilities hanging on a singular thread. Every hit spills out a quick phrase of pants, watch her struggle in keeping her head upright, a slacking neck in response with the consistent slaps of your hips into hers. 

Her slick creates these scattered strings across the skin - not only to the tops of your thighs, but to her ass as well, the sound of her moans bouncing off the walls once they start to rise up a bit in volume. 

“Fucking-” and it’s right at this moment, where she sounds relieved, it all comes down with a firm grind of her teeth, “fuck.” 

“Yeah?” You hum. 

“It’s so-” the blowback of your cock into her cunt becomes a little too much to bear, “it’s so fucking good.” 

You’re holding her in place, right at the hips, the unbelievable form of her ass rocking back and forth with every shift of motion caused by you. The low light of your humidifier works its hours on the nightstand, illuminating the comfy and watered colors onto her skin. She’s drenched in this soft honey shade, laying ruin of the pale sheets on her knees and elbows - face gazing to the window, proffering up these listless praises to fill up your head. 

The thing is: this isn’t the first time that you and her were like this. There’s an absolute certainty that someone living in either the floors above or below your room has heard everything that’s happened within these walls. Surely someone minding their own business walking along the sidewalk outside has seen Haewon’s gorgeous tits pressed up against the glass, her face full of rapture and pleasure - not having any sense of respect or decency to keep it in the room. You remember railing her poor pussy out on the balcony one time; and that was an issue for the landlord to bring up the following day, but neither you nor her really cared. 

What really mattered here, was fucking her brains out. Easy as that. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Oh my god-” 

Every word that’s punctuated out of her lips starts to collapse on top of each other, the impact of your thrusts siphoning the last bits of air trapped in her lungs. She isn’t making her condition any better, suffocating herself deep into the pillow, hoping to drown out the wet noises of her cunt slipping your cock in with refined precision. This choking grip is more dangerous than her hands, her hitched breaths are in no comparison to your labored huffs, slowing your movements with one forceful drive in, a massage of her asscheeks here, another drag and thrust back into her tight cunt, and a playful slap to her ass, tainting the slick skin in red. 

“Baby, your fucking cunt,” you hiss. “Jesus christ.” 

A whiny ‘mhm-” is all you manage to get out of Haewon, breaking underneath your weight. Her ass is still facing up, face shoved into the pillow, nicking her neck up for air, fucking her down the curve of her spine. “Oh my goodness. You got it so deep. Hit me hard. Please, and I swear to fuck - ngh-” 

You’re groaning, increasing the sway of your hips into hers, “So fucking tight.” Haewon’s hands manage to find yours, holding the swell of her ass together, moving her body the opposite direction away from you, meeting the impact down the middle which sends your balls lightly tapping the nub of her clit. She knows that you’ve been working a bit too much for your own sake, so she goes on ahead and has her own fun, fucking herself back onto your cock, the recoil alone enough for you to just freeze on your knees and take it. 

“S’that feel good?” she asks innocently.

Spilling out another expletive, you angle your hips up as her ass comes crashing down. 

“You’re so hard for me,” Haewon continues, looking over with her body still pressed against the sheets, the left side of her face smiling at the sight of you trying to hold it together. “This cock fits so well inside- jesus, ah- had to let yourself go for a bit, didn’t you?” 

“If you keep your hips moving with my hands tied, I’m gonna fucking lose it.” 

The plot was already lost from the first dirty thought you had with her. 

Her ass keeps your lower half in check, unknowingly moving through muscle memory while the walls of your room continue to reverberate the stuttering breaths and quick curses slipping out of both of your lips. Your hands hold still in tandem with her fingers and start to claw into your palms, pleasure spiking everywhere in her body, skin hot to the touch as the claps start to increase in tempo - the rate shifting to something more desperate, erratic. 

“My fucking god, shit!” She wails, her hands shooting down to her ass, spreading herself wider while you lock your eyes at the sight of your cock buried into her cunt becomes a whole lot more clearer now, “Right there baby, holy fuck- this cock is just-” Haewon’s demeanor is diminishing by the second, words and sighs tumbling over in loops, but the pitch in her whines hit a familiar key or tone, gradually crescendoing when she gives up in squirming between your fingers. 

“Pound my ass- yes, fuck- this dick is amazing.” Her head swivels up before ducking below into the open cavity of her chest and arms, sucking in her stomach with whatever strength she has left, “Give me more,” she’s panting, head spinning and spinning like a ceiling fan, “Give it to me. I need more-” 

There’s not much left for you to take other than the stray tit that’s captured into your hand when you hunch yourself over her again, lift the upper half of her body upwards so that she’s in line with yours, entrapping that heat away from the cool air, trembling. Your mouth is back to her ear again, eyes half-lidded, fingers moving around your neck while the warmth of her cunt starts to burn across your length - the new lane created where your cock slides into her that creates this sequence of events of her convulsing, shuddering, pulling her hips back with a sole purpose to just ruin her. You’re hearing a slight wheeze out of her, maybe a sob too, the head of your cock’s hit a spot past her threshold where it literally makes her go stupid; mind and body into putty, exactly the way you like it. 

Her fingers continue to hold tight, cunt clenching around your thick shaft when you’ve finally got her past that edge. There’s a bit of a moment of pause when you and her are stacked on top of each other, exhaustion finally breaking through, coaxing her second orgasm as you’re keeping your cock warm inside of her, feeling her hips spaz out of control while you endure in fucking her poor, spent, pretty pussy. Both heels of her feet bend towards the backside of your thighs, pressing her waist into the mattress, sliding yourself out the tightness before teasing her with the half of your shaft. 

“There we go, Haewon. I’ve got you,” you’re telling her. The tone of your voice drowned out by the keening shattering through. “You’re perfect. Cum over this cock, baby. You deserved it.” 

She keeps on sighing when she comes down from her second high, summoning this lazy grin while you’re peppering her face with kisses, an indication for a job well done. But she taps the top of your hand twice, resting at the crease of her hips - and the shimmy of her hips still embedded with your cock tells you only one thing: 

“I wanna make you cum.” 

The insanity this woman has. It does something to you. 

So you waste no time at all. It’s enormously more than just a mess with how fucked up she is. 

When you give her what she needs: flipping on her back was the way to go, yanking her hips back into yours until you see her eyes go wide at the sudden stroke before rolling up behind her head and past her eyelids - everything starts to fall into place with the way the back of her ankles hold your waist, which only leaves you with the sole choice of pounding her so fucking hard that you’d have to hook yourself into the arch of her back where she’ll have no where to go - it’s a position well practiced, your ol’ reliable: firing your cock on all cylinders at a pace so inhuman until she’s able to look you in the eyes and cast a spell for you to finish on her pretty face and leave her there with the damage when it’s all said and done - the assurance that you’ll give her what she wants and have you craving for more - kissing you shamelessly like she’ll be stoned to a rock come the next day, and when you’re feeling the pit of your stomach open more and more, the muscles in your hips and legs moving and tensing in the midst of this sex-filled frenzy, there was only one instinct in your mind where it didn’t take much to pump and dump your load inside her. 

You can feel yourself getting close, head dizzying. “Haewon-” 

“I know, handsome boy,” she praises, pulling you so that your forehead touches hers, “can feel you throbbing down there.” 

She lets out this airy laugh when you wince a bit, hands reined at the small of her back and bringing her waist in, the impact of your cock rebounds her body once the pace starts to decrease. 

“Fill me up, like you always do,” Haewon husks, voice barely a whisper in contrast to your hoarseness, “Put a baby in me.” 

There’s this sort of tension in the air along with your body, driving your cock deep into her, burying your cum into the crevices of her pulsing hotness. Haewon lets out a sigh of relief, telling you to keep cumming inside of her, feeling every hot thread of your release coating her slopped walls. 

You can feel yourself get light-headed - the warmth alone, not to mention how wet and tight her pussy is still, a place where everything feels right - but the lust filled in your head starts to fade, blackened vision returning to normal; and before you know it, you’re coming back to earth. 

Neither of you move a muscle. Instead, you lay there for a bit, taking in the dwindling time of exploring each other’s bodies, holding yourselves together while your lips are conducting one final battle for that last dominance, the stench of sex and sweat still fresh and out to the open air. 

Haewon manages to wrap both of her arms around your neck, kissing the slope of her neck and collarbone, scratching the back of your head, looking up to the ceiling with a lazy smile, one plastered with satisfaction. She taps your shoulder to grab your attention, but all you could come up with was a simple hum, which seemed to be enough for her. 

“Go get me some lemons and water. I owe you a special something and a ride.” 

–

Morning rolls around not long after, and assessing the lay of the land of your living space with one eye open. Everything seems to be in their place, tv remotes, work bag next to the neighboring desk, and the singular cup on the counter next to the fridge. Another thing to note, Haewon already got a jump start to the day. 

You’re sliding across the floor with said singular cup being put into the kitchen sink, but with the other eye open now, you notice something at the corner of the kitchen island: a small box left open. 

“I wonder what she has for me this time,” you say to yourself, examining the box which turned out to be a contraceptive tablet. A note also slips out with a card attached. 

“Take today off. I’ll be coming over later. By the way, I hope you won’t get mad at me for snatching your little gift from Jiwoo. It was too cute for you to have sitting on your nightstand or coffee table, so I took it for myself. 

p.s 

Don’t worry about last night so much. I had everything thought out since our little ‘accident’ the first time. Can’t really say the same thing with what I said, but you can choose to ignore it…or not ;’)

- Haewon

xo <3” 

The attached card flipped over showed the name of the gacha toy gifted to you. A justified reaction of sighing with rolled eyes and the shake of your head was pretty much the start of some days; but hey, at least the breaks are enjoyable. 

“Sleight of hand my ass,” you mutter, thumbing the small slip of paper in your fingers, “she stole that from me.” 

-

a/n: sending my special flowers to @majorblinks (i love you foreverrr <3), @passingnotions (for happily agreeing to poke around wherever in the draft), and @yieldtotemptation (to opening the floodgates with ur bae fic).

thank you for reading and wemo check. :3

[keferon]

Hmmmm. New infection: Blurr/Swerve

Your writing has radioactive qualities but in a comic book super powers granting kind of way.

Merry Christmas from me to you.

———————————————————————

There was single spark of Christmas in the deepest dark of space. Far, far from the warm fire of Earth.

With the sort of warmth reserved for children’s holiday specials, Swerve and Jazz exchanged small improvised gifts.

Prowl also participated, with all the stone cold concentration of a bomb defusal.

Turns out, there was a decent amount of dropped shanix down various vents that Jazz had gotten a hold of. Swerve helped him pick up a gift for Prowl the next time they stopped at a trade depot. It was some of the most fun he’d had since waking up.

Prowl. ALSO, required Swerves help in picking out a gift for Jazz.

Never, never, never again.

Later, Swerve would watch as Jazz helped Prowl loop a striped scarf over his shoulders and across one half of a chevron, laughing and smiling all the while.

Swerve wasn’t jealous. No no no. He really was happy for them! He was! And maybe a little sad.

Prowl nodded at something Jazz said and took his leave to head back to his, their hab suite. Jazz jogged over to where Swerve had been slowly been drilling a pen into the drawing pad Jazz gotten for him.

“So you going to go see them?”

Swerve abruptly dropped the pen and flattened a hand over the sketch he’d definitely not made of the person he totally wasn’t thinking about.

“Whaaaat? No, no I’m sure they’re fine. Not! That I was still thinking about him! THEM.”Swerves optics darted rapidly from Jazz to the drawing, making sure any evidence was fully concealed.

“Besides, I’m not gonna leave you alone on Christmas Eve.” He said a bit more seriously, remembering Jazz’s current isolation. Unlike him, Swerve could visit Earth whenever wanted.

“Actually, Prowl was talking about some silent holovid earlier, so we were going to watch it tonight. It’s cool man, go check on your boo.”

Jazz looked, well, happy. And his field (wow, Swerve was still mind blown that humans had those the entire time) reflected that.

Swerve did a poor imitation of nonchalance. “I mean, only if you’re totally sure.”

Jazz put his hands in his pockets, rocking on the balls of his feet a little, “Hmmm, you could always join Prowl and I for the holovid. You know, the one we’re gonna watch together? Inside his room?”

HA!

Hahahahhaha!

Oooooh Swerve saw THAT trap and did not need the stress induced nightmare fuel that’d surely come from third wheeling on a date with Prowl.

The Christmas Shopping was enough.

With Jazz’s blessing, and Prowl’s glaring, seriously he could feel it through the wall, Swerve wished them a Merry Christmas and went to his room. Just a little bit quicker than necessary.

———————————————

Blurr’s hospital was one of those really fancy ones that looked more like a hotel room from the right angles.

There were simple decorations, extra furniture like a nightstand and a small couch, as well as fairly thick curtains framing a large clear window.

Christmas lights were strung up outside, adding to the ambient glow of the city lit up below. Snowflakes drifting through the air fuzzed the details. Made everything a little soft.

Swerve zeroed in on closing the curtains out of habit.

“Leave th-“

Swerve shrieked, nearly clipping through a wall with how hard he jumped.

Lying on his good side on the couch, Blurr merely blinked at him slowly before finishing his sentence.

“Leave the curtains open, please.” He pulled a blanket that didn’t look thick enough a little more securely over his shoulder.

Blurr didn’t resume looking at the falling snow, instead he took Swerve in with a half lidded eye.

“So are you my ghost of Christmas past, present or future?”

Swerve was uncomfortably reminded of how he looked at the moment. Colorless, grainy and mostly transparent. Slowly, he turned up the sliders on his holoform. “Heh, uh, option D? None of the above?”

Blurr didn’t have an IV in, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still on some other form of painkillers. Either way, he seemed a little more aware than what Swerve was prepared to deal with.

So why was he moving to get Blurr a better blanket?

Eh, he probably won’t remember this, but his recovery will. Swerve rationalized. He thinks I’m a Christmas ghost anyways, it’s just a dream to him.

When Swerve was almost out of sight, he was stopped by a small, “Stay?”

Swerve stayed.

He shuffled where he stood, Blurr continued to look at him. Slowly, the former racer tried to sit up.

Swerve was there right away, moving softly as he helped him up. In order to support Blurrs weight as best as possible, Swerve ended up sitting halfway onto the couch where Blurr had been laying.

Blurr placed a hand on his arm for support, and when he was most of the way upright, Swerve felt him sigh and rest all of his weight onto his holoform.

Comfortable.

Trapping him.

Holoforms can’t explode right?

Swerve was living both his greatest fanfic dream as well as his second greatest real life nightmare. He really, really hoped holoforms couldn’t explode. Fuck knows he’d put this poor man through enough.

How many layers of guilt were there again? There’s the initial parasocial idolization thing. There was the time Blurr saw all of his destroyed merchandise. So he thinks Swerve hates him. Did. He did actually hate him. Not really, but he wanted to. Oh and then Swerve left him for dead! Because he treated him like he wasn’t an actual living person who could feel fear! Or pain! Or. . . Alone.

On Christmas.

Swerve got a little more settled onto the couch, letting Blurr use him as his personal cushion a bit more comfortably. Leaning his head on his shoulder, Blurr was watching the snow again.

“When I was a child, I spent every Christmas at a ski lodge to the north” Blurr spoke quietly enough that the silence stayed resilient.

“I’d stay up late, watching the snow drift down through the mountain lights for hours. It felt a lot like this.” Blurr’s eye was fluttering more and more the longer he spoke. Each time it closed, Swerve could see the effort it took to open again.

Blurr, readjusted his body one last time me. Then mumbled. “You’re very warm for a ghost.”

Swerve, desperately, wished he could remember a single smart thing he’d ever written. “I got a slider for that.”

Swerve was going to find the self destruct button.

Blurr snorted a genuine single laugh. His eye had closed and he’d stopped fighting. Gradually, Swerve felt him breath a little slower, sinking into him and the couch. Swerve held still, until all the screaming, embarrassing panic in his mind resolved into white noise.

Swerve stayed for as long as he could. And when his time was almost up, he carefully lowered Blurr back onto the couch. Getting him a thicker blanket, and a non-Swerve pillow, for Christmas.

———————————————————————

- SSTP

"Prowl. ALSO, required Swerves help in picking out a gift for Jazz.

Never, never, never again."

LMAO

"Oooooh Swerve saw THAT trap and did not need the stress induced nightmare fuel that’d surely come from third wheeling on a date with Prowl."

AHAHAHAJFJGMGJGKRJ WHEEEEEEZE HELP

ANON. SSTP. DEAR. MY TREASURE. MY SWEET NUCLEAR POWER PLANT OF A WRITER. I LOVE THE WAY YOU WRITE THEM. BOTH JP AND BLURWERS. YOU HAVE NO BUSINESS TO BE THIS FUNNY AND CUTE /J

Also The scene with Blurr is just SO cozy auughhggj I wanna wrap them both in a blanket and send to the magic ski resort where nothing bad ever happens*

[blimpintime]

jade green prologue

azriel x reader

in which Azriel has a personal healer, and she needs to be saved.

word count: 830 words

warnings: light angst, head injury, rhys is an asshole!

unedited

Being a traveling healer meant a few things; one, knowing how to defend yourself is the most important thing next to healing. Two, paying attention to new science and healing techniques will always benefit you and your patient. Lastly, being kind to everyone you meet, will get you further than having people fear you. 

Well, for the most part. Sometimes defending yourself and staying kind contradict one another hence why you are running, no, rolling down a snowy mountain trying to outrun some bandits. 

The snow is wet and mushy, not quite the firm snow that Illriya gets further into the cold season, so you are having a hard time grasping anything to regain balance and stability. Your winter gear is starting to become soaked with the cold and wet ground you have been sliding in, and eventually, you are wet head to toe when you slide into a river with no way to slow yourself down or stop.

Your head reemerges from the frigid water rushing around you, face freezing and refreshed at the same time. The sky is a bright white reflecting off the snow on the mountain making it hard for you to see. At this point, you have no idea what direction you are even facing or heading towards, and your body is dropping its temperature rapidly. 

“Shit.” You manage to cough out, your bag of healing items now long gone in the river.

 You try swimming toward a branch you see floating near you but get swept by the current and smack your head on the branch instead, causing everything around you to go dark.

There is not much that will get a reaction of Azriel but seeing one of his close friends (who he hasn’t seen in years)  floating lifeless in the Sidra was a scenario that made his stomach drop to his feet. 

He isn’t sure how he recognized you, floating face up in the water and blueish gray, but he is glad he did because he quickly shot down to where you were and ripped your frigid body out of the painfully cold water his hands going numb with pain. Your hair glowing around your face no doubt your healing abilities trying to save your body a little, but it is clearly having a hard time considering you still have a large gash on your forehead dripping sticky blood. 

He lifts your lifeless body into his strong arms and winnows to Madja’s healers’ cabin. He feels your pulse faintly but at least it is still there. A bit of panic flushes through his body when he realizes how long you have been in this state. And then anger washes over him, who could do this to someone so kind? He thinks harshly to himself.

Where are you, brother? A voice appears in his head, Not now Rhys. He responds sharply. 

Oh, at a pleasure house? Finally, taking up my advice? Don’t forget about family dinner. Rhysand quips back in a joking tone, to which Azriel blocks him out completely. 

He could not care less about family dinner more than he did right now. You limp in his arms freezing cold with blue lips and eyes faintly closed with what looked to be ice crystals around your lashes and eyebrows. You who have saved him from the brink of death on more than one occasion. You were all that mattered in this moment. 

When Madja finally helped you in, you were lying there with your chest softly rising on the bed. He couldn’t leave your side nor did he want to. 

“It is good you found her when you did,” Madja spoke to him. “She was getting to dangerous levels of freezing. Without her abilities, I am fairly certain her blood would have frozen.” 

Azriel winced and ran a hand through his hair, “I don’t even know what she was doing here. I have never met with her in Velaris.” He responded softly.

“You know her?” Madja asked in the same tone.

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat, “Long time friends.” 

She nodded in response. “She should wake when she is warm enough. If there is anything else I can do just yell for me, but I will be in my office.” With that, she walks off and closes the door gently.

Azriel for once does not know what to do, sitting there feels like a waste of time when he could be hunting those down who did this to you. However, he does not want you to wake up alone and confused.

Then he thinks about how he is expected to be at family dinner with his happily mated brothers and the girl he thought he was infatuated with. He felt guilty for a moment thinking about his family being happy when you were lying here lifeless, but then felt anger towards someone he calls a brother. A pleasure house? He scoffs verbally. His soul aches for companionship but right now all that matters is when you wake up. 

a/n: it is a little guy but welcome to the prologue!

[hellobykittys]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 (𝐈𝐌)𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐍 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓.𝐈𝐈𝐈 ✦ 𝐂𝐋¹⁶

SUMMARY: Charles Leclerc, a Formula 1 star, faces the decline of his reputation after breaking up with art curator Alexandra Saint Mleux. Under pressure from his team, he is forced into a fake relationship with one of the most popular influencers of the moment. NOTES: English is not my first language, so there might be some writing mistakes. I apologize for that, and feel free to point out any improvements. WC: 3.4k WARNING: teasing, fake relationship

PREVIOUS PART | MASTERLIST | SMAU VER | NEXT PART

Monaco was especially sunny that morning, the calm sea reflecting the clear, cloudless blue sky. For Charles, the scene felt almost cruel, given the weight he had been carrying ever since Sofia and Lorenzo presented the PR plan to him. Now, the most delicate part of the operation was about to begin: the first public appearance with Y/N.

The meeting had been carefully planned to look casual and discreet, far from prying eyes. Of course, strategically placed paparazzi would make sure the moment was captured, but the idea was to create an authentic, almost spontaneous vibe. The plan was a drive through the streets of Monaco in a sports car, followed by a stop at a low-key café. Simple enough to stir up a buzz without looking forced.

When Charles arrived at the meeting point, a mischievous grin already played on his lips. He spotted Y/N from a distance, flawless as always. She wore a white summer dress that could have come straight out of a fashion editorial, paired with simple sandals and sunglasses reflecting the shimmer of the sea. She looked like part of Monaco’s perfect backdrop.

He waited for her to get into the car before greeting her.

“You look like you just stepped out of a summer campaign,” he said as she opened the door, his tone laced with a bit of teasing.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her expression already skeptical. “And you look like you just rolled out of bed,” she replied, giving him a pointed look at his slightly messy hair and basic t-shirt.

Charles chuckled, adjusting the steering wheel. “Give me a reason to look good, and maybe I’ll make an effort.”

Not in the mood for his banter, Y/N just rolled her eyes and settled into the seat. Charles started the car and drove at a slow, relaxed pace through Monaco’s narrow streets, which seemed to irritate her even more.

“You know you’re going to have to look interested, right?” she said without looking at him, her eyes fixed on the view outside.

“I am interested,” he retorted, leaning slightly toward her. “Just not sure if it’s in the drive.”

Y/N turned her head to stare at him, her look making it clear he was already testing her patience. Before she could respond, Charles spoke again.

“I didn’t know you had a place in Monaco,” he commented casually, referring to the house where he’d picked her up earlier.

“I don’t,” she replied, returning her gaze to the road. “It’s a friend’s place. Would be weird to have a boyfriend in the city and stay in a hotel, don’t you think?”

Charles raised his eyebrows, surprised by the logic. “Your mind works fast. How did you come up with that?”

“I won’t take credit for this one,” she said, crossing her legs elegantly. “It was Sofia’s idea. Since your house wasn’t an option, my friend kindly lent me a room.”

He laughed, caught off guard by the comment. He hadn’t even considered offering his house—well, Sofia probably made sure that wasn’t an option. “Sofia really thinks of everything, huh?”

Y/N shrugged, turning her attention back to the scenery.

The comfortable silence was broken when Y/N turned on the radio and picked a random song from Sabrina Carpenter’s new album. She began humming quietly, as if she were alone.

Charles raised an eyebrow, surprised. “So you like Sabrina Carpenter?”

“I do,” she replied, not bothering to look at him.

“Great,” he said, smiling. “We should go to one of her shows on my week off. What do you think?”

Y/N turned to look at him, her gaze sharp. “Like you did with your ex?” she teased, her voice dripping with irony. “Going from Swiftie to Carpenter. I don’t think your fans will like that. I can already picture the TikToks with ‘Déjà Vu’ playing in the background. I’ll pass, but thanks for the offer.”

Charles laughed, clearly unfazed by her sharp tone. He even seemed to enjoy it.

“So you were following my old relationship? How cute. Didn’t know you were also a fan of mine.”

“In your dreams,” Y/N shot back immediately. “I’m just a chronically online girl.”

Charles laughed louder, taking the chance to tease her even more. “Well, at least you admitted you pay attention to me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile that escaped.

The café they chose was small, discreet, and strategically positioned with a partial view of the sea. The place was perfect: charming enough for a date, secluded enough to avoid crowds, but of course, there were a few paparazzi already strategically spread out.

Charles and Y/N settled at an outdoor table, the sun in Monaco bathing the area. Before she could pull out the chair, Charles jumped ahead, making sure to exaggerate the gesture as if it were a scene from a romantic movie.

“Thanks, Prince Charming,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Anytime, my princess,” he replied, a mischievous smile on his face, more for teasing than to please.

Y/N just rolled her eyes and adjusted her dress as he took his seat at the table.

A few minutes later, the waiter appeared with the menu, leaving them to decide at their leisure. The silence between them was slightly uncomfortable, but not unbearable—more like a tense calm.

After flipping through the menu for a few moments, Y/N closed it and made her choice. “I’ll have a lemon water and a chocolate tart.”

Charles raised an eyebrow. “Chocolate tart? For breakfast? That’s pretty bold of you.”

She smirked, challenging him. “And you? What are you going to order? Something more ‘appropriate’?”

“An espresso and avocado toast,” he answered with a touch of theatricality, closing the menu.

The waiter took their orders and left, leaving them alone again.

Charles leaned back in his chair, watching Y/N intently, and asked the question that seemed to be bothering him. “Okay, so what do we do now?”

Y/N crossed her arms, leaning slightly over the table. “What do couples usually do on dates like this?” she asked, as if it were obvious. “I believe they talk, right? At least that’s what I used to do.”

Charles let out a short laugh. “Sounds easy when you say it like that.”

“Because it is easy,” she shot back, with a superiority in her tone. “Or maybe you’re less experienced with relationships than you let on.”

He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “I’m a great boyfriend, ma chérie. I’m just trying to figure out which version of me you want the public to see today.”

Y/N gave an ironic smile, adjusting her sunglasses on her head like a tiara. “Surprise me, Leclerc. Just try not to overdo it.”

Charles flashed a mischievous grin. “Overdoing it is my specialty. You should know that by now.”

She just shook her head, murmuring something softly that Charles couldn’t hear, but it sounded like a challenge. The tension between them was almost palpable—a mix of competition and chemistry that they both stubbornly ignored.

“Are you going to want me to accompany you to the Monaco GP?” Y/N changed the subject, her tone casual. “I was thinking… I think it might be a bit too soon for me to go with you. Maybe it’d be better if I went with some friends.”

Charles raised an eyebrow, clearly uninterested in her concerns. “I think all this caution is over the top. Aren’t we supposed to make people think we’re together? So just show up with me there.”

“Yes, but there’s a difference between letting people know and rubbing it in their faces,” Y/N explained, as if it were obvious. “I’ll go with some friends and we’ll meet in more discreet parts of the paddock. It feels more natural.”

Charles sighed, a half-smile forming on his face. “I don’t get why you ask for my opinion if you’re just going to decide everything on your own.”

“I just want to be nice and make you think your opinion matters,” she replied, with a sweetness that was obviously fake.

“You’re evil,” he said, amused, but with a tone of surrender.

The brief silence that followed was broken by the waiter, who brought their orders. Y/N thanked him politely, while Charles just nodded, still observing every move she made as if he were trying to figure her out. He seemed to study her as if she were a puzzle full of unexpected twists.

“So,” Charles began, stirring the sugar into his espresso. “If we’re going to pretend to be a couple, we need some backstories. You know, those little tales that all couples have.”

Y/N cut a small piece of her pie and looked at him over her lemon water. “And what do you suggest? Should we make up a romantic trip to Paris or something?”

“Why not?” He shrugged, as if it were the most obvious idea in the world. “It’s cliché, but it works. Or maybe something simpler… like our first date?”

Y/N laughed quietly, a sound that mixed irony and amusement. “No one’s going to ask us that, but you’re right. We need to think of some details: how long we’ve been together, what we know about each other… those things real couples would know.”

Charles leaned forward on the table, his gaze full of mischief. “I could tell you all about me right now, but you’ll have to do the same. It’s a test.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and took a sip of her water. “I don’t mind telling you the basics. Now, if you really want to seem convincing, you’ll need to put in a little more effort.”

“Effort? I’m a Formula 1 driver, chérie. No one knows how to perform under pressure better than I do.”

She smiled but didn’t bother to respond, focusing on finishing her pie. Charles watched her for a moment, noticing the smile that seemed sincere, almost carefree—a curious contrast to the controlled and flawless persona she usually displayed.

“You’re taking this more seriously than I thought,” he remarked, lifting his espresso cup, a mix of surprise and admiration in his voice.

“It’s not just your image at stake,” she replied simply, but there was something in the determination of her tone that caught Charles’s attention.

The conversation took an unexpected turn. They began sharing basic details about each other—hobbies, likes, and even a few funny stories that came up spontaneously. At some point, without either of them realizing, they laughed together, as if they were long-time friends. From a distance, anyone watching would see just another couple on a casual date, exchanging smiles and light conversation.

As Charles finished his coffee, Y/N made a comment about the pie, but before she could continue, a fan approached hesitantly, interrupting their conversation.

“Charles, can I take a picture with you?” the boy asked, admiration shining in his eyes.

Charles smiled warmly and stood up without hesitation. “Of course!”

Y/N stayed seated, watching the interaction from a distance. She saw the driver crouch down to meet the boy’s eye level, exchanging a few words before posing for the picture. The scene was incredibly genuine—something she’d never admit out loud, but it made her smile faintly.

When the picture was taken, the boy looked at Y/N, hesitating for a moment before saying, “Sorry to interrupt your date. You’re really beautiful, and you make such a cute couple.”

Y/N blinked, slightly surprised by the comment, but quickly regained her composure.

“Thank you,” Charles replied, winking at the boy. “You’ve got good taste.”

The boy laughed, thanked them again, and ran off toward his parents, leaving the two in a brief moment of silence.

“Cute couple, huh?” Charles remarked, sitting back down and crossing his arms with a mischievous smile.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but a nearly imperceptible smile appeared on her lips. “Just a polite kid trying to be nice. Don’t get too excited.”

“Yeah, sure,” he teased. “But maybe he’s just saying what everyone’s thinking.”

“So that means our plan is working,” she replied, taking one last sip of her lemon water. “But for today, I’ll let you enjoy the compliment.”

Charles laughed, and for a moment, the teasing gave way to something lighter, almost comfortable.

After a few more minutes of conversation, during which Charles managed to get a few more laughs out of Y/N—to his satisfaction and surprise—they both realized that time had passed faster than expected. He called the waiter to ask for the check, insisting on paying, which earned him another skeptical glance from her.

“You know you don’t have to try to be a gentleman with me, right? I’m not impressed,” she said while he signed the receipt.

“I know,” he replied with a provocative smile, standing up to push her chair in. “But I like to keep up appearances. What if the waiter decides to tell some tabloid I’m a terrible boyfriend?”

She let out a soft laugh, grabbing her purse and adjusting her sunglasses before they headed toward the car together.

Outside, the Monegasque sun was still mild, but the sea breeze made the weather pleasant. They walked side by side, a discreet distance apart, but the curious glances of a few passersby were already starting to appear. Charles opened the car door for her, which earned him another skeptical look.

“I didn’t know you liked acting so much,” she teased, settling into the seat.

“It’s not acting,” he said, leaning in slightly to look at her closely before closing the door. “It’s natural charm.”

She rolled her eyes as he walked around to the driver’s side, starting the car with a smooth motion.

The drive back to her friend’s house was calm, but not without the usual comments. He insisted on driving slowly, claiming he wanted to enjoy the view, which left her slightly impatient.

“Are you scared to drop me off or are you just trying to annoy me?” she asked, pretending to sound casual as she fiddled with the strap of her purse. “You’re definitely enjoying pretending to be my boyfriend a little too much.”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But you don’t seem all that different.”

Y/N just shook her head, choosing not to fuel the conversation any further.

When they finally reached her friend’s house, he stopped the car in front of the gate. Before she could open the door, Charles stopped her with a comment.

“See you at the Monaco GP? You’ll need to be in front of the podium when I win the race.”

She paused, looking at him, confused, before smiling enigmatically. “You’re way too confident for someone who’s only won once on this track.”

She opened the car door and got out, walking toward the entrance without looking back. Charles watched her for a moment, chuckling quietly to himself before starting the car again and driving back home.

Even after he had turned the corner, the interaction lingered in both of their minds—though neither of them would admit it.

The heat of Monaco was beginning to give way to a cool breeze as the sun set, painting the sky with shades of orange and pink. Y/N had just stepped out of the shower and could hardly wait to throw herself on the bed and relax. Pretending to be the girlfriend of a Formula 1 driver was proving to be more exhausting than she’d imagined.

She flopped onto the soft mattress and, almost instinctively, grabbed her phone. Among the notifications and irrelevant messages, one caught her attention. It was from Clara, asking about a picture of her and Charles kissing at a club.

Y/N’s heart sank for a moment. She clearly remembered that night. One of the few times she’d let her guard down, and Charles… well, he had been irresistible, more charming than usual. But how had that photo surfaced now?

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered to herself, sitting up on the bed and zooming in on the image to take a better look.

She let out a deep sigh and opened Instagram. The post already had hundreds of thousands of likes and a flood of comments. Some praised them, saying that she and Charles made the perfect couple, while others speculated about the “fake” nature of their relationship.

As she scrolled, a mix of discomfort and irritation washed over her. It wasn’t just the invasion of privacy; it was the fact that this could ruin all the work they’d done to control the narrative.

Meanwhile, at Charles’s house, the driver was lounging on the sofa, distracted by a game on his console. His older brother, Lorenzo, walked in with his phone in hand, wearing a mischievous smile.

“Hey, petit frère, you didn’t tell me things were going on with Y/N,” he said, plopping down on the couch next to Charles and showing him the phone screen.

Charles paused the game and looked at the photo. His expression was a mix of surprise and irritation. “Where did you get this?”

“It’s everywhere. Someone posted it just now, and it’s already gone viral,” Lorenzo replied, trying to hold back his laughter. “So… wanna tell me what happened? If you two had something going on, you could’ve told me, it would’ve made my job and Sofia’s a lot easier.”

Charles huffed, tossing the controller aside. “It was months ago, at a party. Nothing big. Just one night.”

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “Nothing big? Doesn’t look like ‘nothing big’ to me when you’re kissing like that.”

“You’re not helping,” Charles retorted, rubbing his temples. “This is going to mess everything up. We had a plan, and now this photo pops up out of nowhere.”

“Well, you know how the internet works,” Lorenzo said, still amused. “But honestly, you two look pretty natural in that picture. Maybe this helps, you know? Shows you’ve been together longer than planned.”

Charles shot his brother an exasperated look. “You really think Sofia’s going to buy that? She wants everything under control, and now there’s a picture from months ago that could ruin the whole plan.”

Lorenzo shrugged. “You get yourself in trouble, little bro. Not my problem, but… just out of curiosity: was it just a kiss?”

Charles hesitated for a moment before shaking his head, a sly grin creeping across his lips. “Of course, it wasn’t just that. But she acted like it never happened. I woke up, and she was already gone.”

Lorenzo burst into laughter. “So, that’s why you’re always trying to get under her skin. It bruised your ego, huh?”

“Shut up, Lorenzo,” Charles grumbled, but there was amusement in his voice.

Back at Y/N’s house, she decided to call Sofia before the situation got any more out of hand.

“Please tell me you saw the photo,” Y/N said as soon as Sofia picked up.

“I saw it,” Sofia replied, her voice calm but tinged with concern. “I’m already keeping an eye on social media. We can’t ignore it, but we also can’t look desperate to control it. I’ll come up with a strategy, but you need to talk to Charles. You two need to align on what you’re going to say if anyone asks.”

Y/N sighed, already tired just thinking about talking to him again. “Alright. I’ll call him now.”

She hesitated for a moment but finally dialed Charles’s number.

“Y/N,” he answered quickly, his voice alert.

“So, you’ve seen it?” she asked, getting straight to the point.

“Of course, I’ve seen it. Lorenzo hasn’t stopped laughing since he found the photo,” he replied, mixing frustration with humor.

“Great. Now I have to deal with you and your brother,” she retorted, rolling her eyes.

“Look, it’s not the end of the world. We can use this to our advantage,” Charles suggested, trying to sound optimistic.

“Use it to our advantage?” Y/N repeated, incredulous. “Do you have any idea how much this could complicate everything? All the work to look like the perfect couple is going down the drain now!”

Charles paused, his voice softening. “Or it could show we really have a history, that what’s going on now didn’t just come out of nowhere. I think people will buy it.”

Y/N stayed silent for a moment, thinking it over. “Okay, maybe you’re right. But we need to make sure we’re on the same page.”

“We’re already on the same page, chérie,” he said confidently, and something in his tone, as annoying as it was, managed to reassure her in some strange way.

“So, should we meet tomorrow to iron out the details?”

“It’s a date,” he responded, and Y/N could almost picture his smug smile on the other end of the line.

“It’s not a date,” she shot back, ending the call before he could respond.

Still holding her phone, Y/N flopped onto the couch, taking a deep breath. If the day had already been long, the night was shaping up to be even longer.

tαglıst: @charlesgirl16 @sltwins @lizzyzzn @seonghwaexile @weekendlusting @kahhorri @oikarma @freyathehuntress @nichmeddar @janeh22

[asterias-record-shop]

╭════• ೋ•✧๑♡๑✧•ೋ •═══╮

— fuck his brains out

╰════• ೋ•✧๑♡๑✧•ೋ •═══╯

In which you pretend not to know your boyfriend is Kick-Ass. maybe OOC characters, I got a little carried away, and maybe mixed timeline, I haven't watched the movies in a while... Also, Dave x Mean! reader because who doesn't love that?

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪

“I think Kick-Ass is hotter,” you look over at Dave, licking your ice cream almost teasingly. “If I had the chance, I’d fuck his brains out.”

Dave blushed madly, rubbing his cheeks before you stand and tug on his arm. “Dave, I think we should start heading out. You’re walking me home, right?”

Dave nodded quickly, as you thought that it was best because you had been taking care of him since his injury or said that because it had been a while. “Y-Yeah! I will, I’m coming.”

He waved at his friends as you tugged him out, throwing away the napkin that previously held your ice cream cone away. “I mean it,” you said abruptly, smiling over as you held his hand. “I would fuck him so hard he wouldn’t be able to talk.”

“W-Would you?” Dave finally speaks, looking over at you as you smiled.

“Hell yeah I would.”

Later that night, Mindy stared at him as he fixed his mask. “This isn’t a good idea, Dave."

In all seriousness, he really thought she would fight him to make him stay. What he was doing was stupid, but he was about to get laid. By you. The most beautiful girl in the world.

"This," he grinned back at her. "Is an amazing idea. I'm going to get laid so fucking hard."

"What if she wants to take off your mask?"

"She won't."

"What if she recognizes your voice?"

He paused, then smiled. "When I'm nervous, my voice gets higher. She won't recognize it. I'll see you later!"

He ran out, quickly going to your home. How was he going to get in? Would he sneak in through the window you always had unlocked that was right next to your dresser? Or would he throw rocks at your window, begging for you to let him up so you could fuck him?

He started to panic, how the hell would he sneak into your house?

In nervousness, he paced in the back alleyway behind your house before his phone buzzed, your name blaring on the screen.

Y/N 8:57PM come in through the window ;)

It made him pause before he looked at your window, gasping as you stared at him with your body lit in light of your bedside lamp. He could see your bright smile as you gave him a small wave, a gulp echoing through the alley as you opened up the window a bit and leave it open with a hairbrush.

He inhaled deeply as he slowly jumped over the fence, climbing up the tree that led up to the window, easily slipping through after pushing it up before carefully pushing it down. He gasped as he looked back, staring at his reflection through the mirror from where you sat in front of your vanity.

"It's slightly... perverted to sneak into a woman's house, right?" Your fingers rubbed moisturizer into your face like he had seen you do in the nights he slept over. "Dave knows that, but I'm assuming Kick-Ass doesn't."

Dave cleared his throat, pushing his hands to cover the front of his suit, specifically over his crotch. He loved it when you said his name. "I-I uhm... you know Dave as well? I know Dave too."

He watched as you giggled. "I do know Dave, very well. But something's telling me you know him a little better than I do."

He swallowed, humming before making his voice deeper. “I-I’ve known Dave a long time… Y/N.”

“Have you now?” You stood, slowly walking over and swaying your beautiful hips before you stood in front of him. “How long?”

“M-My whole life.”

You giggled as he slowly stepped forward to meet you in the middle, your fingers trailing down his chest as you pressed firm kisses wherever your fingers went and you slowly got down on your knees, your skimpy lingerie-like pajamas. "Did Dave ever tell you what I want to do to you, Kick-Ass? Hm?"

He whimpers, his false persona of confidence never even giving the chance to rise as you kissed over the bulge that he tried to hide. "H-He did... oh fuck, he did."

"Oh, well he didn't have to tell you, right? You knew it because you are Dave, right?" You licked over the material of his suit.

His head lulled back as he nodded, groaning. "R-Right, fucking hell, please! Please, please don't stop."

You scoffed as you stood, pressing your finger to his chest. "I knew it! I knew it, you bastard, why would you keep that from me?! Did you like me gushing over your alter ego?!"

He gasped as you shoved him, a groan falling from your lips. "What? No! No, of course not!"

"For fuck's sake, Dave! What, you're such a virgin that you loved the thought of some girl talking about her fantasies with your alter ego?! Fuck you!" You groaned as you sat on your bed, covering your face to hold back your smile. This had to work.

"No! No, of course not, of course not! I'm sorry, I am so sorry," he whined as he kneeled in front of you, holding your knees. "Please, you have to understand..." He takes off his mask, whimpering as he stared up at you. "I did it to keep you safe. I didn't... I don't want you to be a target."

You inhale deeply as you pulled your hands away from your face, glaring down at him. "You promise?"

"I promise."

He inhaled deeply as you squeezed his face, raising a brow. "Well then, what are you going to do to make it up to me?"

He paused, clearing his throat as you ran your fingers through his hair. "Wh-Whatever you want me to," he whispers, swallowing loudly. "Whatever you want me to do."

Oh, you knew it would work.

Maybe that's how Dave got here, laying on his back as he sobbed underneath your touch, the vibrating cock ring settled right at his base and your tongue licking at his tip, lapping and sucking teasingly. You giggled as he squirmed underneath your touch, your hand pumping him slowly. "I don't know if you've done enough to cum, Dave. I don't think... you've made it up to me."

He whined, shaking his head as he covered his mouth. "No, no please! I'll do anything you want, just please! I need- I need to cum inside of you."

You hummed teasingly, pursing your lips. "Inside of me? You want to ask that much of me? Do you think that you've done enough to get the pleasure of cumming inside of me?"

"Yes!" He whined loudly, groaning. "Yes! Yes, I'll make you feel good, I promise!"

You hummed, pumping him even harder. "No... I don't think you can. A virgin like you? Please."

"I promise! I promise I will, I promise." He whimpered, his hips bucking into the air.

He probably could, to be honest. His cock was bigger than you could ever imagine, his girth barely able to fit into your mouth without making your jaw ache and could barely go down your throat without choking. He had the prettiest dick you'd ever seen, definitely the biggest and girthiest too, just because the last few guys you saw were fucking assholes.

"Maybe I will let you cum inside of me," you mused, humming as you sucked on his tip to make loud popping sound echo across the room. "Maybe, if I'm feeling... nice."

He whined, nodding desperately. "Fuck, please! Please, I'll do anything!"

"Where do you want to cum inside of me, baby? Dave knows I'm on birth control, but does Kick-Ass?" You giggle, rubbing his thighs as you gagged on his cock.

"C-Can I cum i-in your... in your-?"

"You can't even say it, can you?" You giggled as you switched the ring into the highest power, humming. "You want to cum... inside of me, right? That narrows things down a little bit... you want to cum inside my mouth? Or... my ass, that's going to take a minute though. Maybe my pussy? Hm? It's already stretched out for you, Dave. Inside my pussy, inside of my cunt?"

"Y-Your cunt! I want... I want to cum inside of your cunt."

You giggled. "Just don't cum as soon as I take this ring off, alright?"

He let out a loud whimper, nodding as you slowly slip it off, putting it into your mouth to suck loudly, groaning as his taste filled your mouth. He groaned as you take it from your mouth, straddling his hips and holding his cock up. You could feel your eyes roll back, humming as he whimpered. "I-I'm close, I'm so close!"

You giggled as you sunk down onto him, yelling out as he screamed out, groaning with a strong buck of his hips to bottom out inside of you and his cum filling up your stomach. You gasped loudly, whimpering as you held onto his chest, your nails digging into his skin. "H-How are you still cumming?!"

"I-I can't stop," he groaned flipping you over to hold your thighs as he pressed his face into your neck, thrusting his hips. Your eyes rolled back, groaning loudly as the loud slaps of skin against skin filled your room. "Fuck, you feel so fucking good! Better than I could ever imagine, fuck!"

You whined as your nails dug into his back, Dave pulling away for just a second with a grin. "Who's fucking who's brains out now?"

taglist: 𓆩[@lem0ns77]𓆪   𓆩[@cecepop15]𓆪   𓆩[@memeorydotcom]𓆪   𓆩[@your-favorite-god]𓆪   𓆩[@xyzstar]𓆪  𓆩[@just-my-shit]𓆪   𓆩[@your-mom21]𓆪   𓆩[@c78r]𓆪   𓆩[@dizscreams]𓆪   𓆩[@asrt5]𓆪 𓆩[@xoxomoonlightbabe]𓆪

© asterias-record-shop

[pbaz7]

CROSSING THE LINE — PART NINE ♡

paige x azzi

warnings: panic attack

word count: 5k

A/N: This chapter was a little sad to write but I liked detailed I was able to get with Paige's feelings . If you didn't see my post earlier I'm not sure where I'm going from here yet with this story. This might be one of the last chapters with like an epilogue or something but idk fully yet. Please let me know what you think and leave live reactions and comments if you can! Hope everyone had a nice holiday 😊

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

Mid February 2024

Paige stared at her reflection in the mirror, her face pale, eyes shadowed with exhaustion. The weight of it all felt unbearable. Her mind churned with a constant noise—comments, critiques, expectations, all bouncing off the walls of her head. No matter how hard she worked, it was never enough. Each day was a new round of judgment, and she was so tired no matter how much she tried to hide it. 

It was February, and UConn had only lost two games this season, but both had come with a heavy cost. The media storm that followed each loss made it feel like the world was spinning just a little bit too fast, dragging her along with it. Geno’s contradicting criticisms were always looming. She was too passive one game, too aggressive the next, but always too something. She shot too much, didn’t shoot enough, forced too many shots. Every mistake, every misstep, every decision, was held under a microscope, dissected and discussed endlessly.

Paige’s breath came in shallow gasps as she stared at herself in the mirror, her fingers trembling ever so slightly. The scoreboard in her mind was relentless. If she didn’t get at least 25, if she didn’t clearly dominate the game, she wasn’t good enough. It didn’t matter that she was impacting the game in other ways—her assists, her defense, her leadership, her mere gravity on the court. None of that seemed to matter. Only the numbers in the point column.

The pressure was suffocating. No matter how many hours she spent perfecting her game, it was never enough.

Every morning, the first thought in her head wasn’t about the game ahead—it was about the headlines, the tweets, the messages people were sending. Every night, she lay awake replaying her mistakes, wondering how she could have done more. What if she’d pushed harder, passed differently, shot better? What if she had been more aggressive? The question haunted her like a shadow, chasing her down until she couldn’t tell where the doubt ended and she began.

The whispers were always there—people talking about her, criticizing her, claiming she wasn’t the player they thought she should be, the player she used to be. Even her own coach had joined the chorus of voices pointing out her flaws. She could feel the eyes on her during every practice, every game. Everyone was waiting for her to fall, to break under the pressure.

And sometimes, Paige felt like she might.

Azzi slowly noticed it over time. Paige had been quieter than usual during practice, a little more withdrawn in her celebrations, a little more distant. When they were on the court together, Azzi could see the way Paige was moving—slower, as if every step took more energy than the last. She was still putting in the work everyday, but it wasn’t the same. Her confidence, her usual fire, seemed dimmed. Azzi knew Paige well enough to recognize the signs.

So after a seemingly difficult practice for Paige one day, when the gym was nearly empty and the others were gathering their things, Azzi caught up with Paige. She stood in front of her, blocking her path to the locker room, her eyes soft but insistent.

"Paige," Azzi said, her voice gentle but firm. "What’s going on?"

"I’m fine Az," Paige muttered, her tone a little flat.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, especially considering her girlfriend's tone with her. She took a step closer, closing the distance between them.

"You’re not fine," she said quietly, her voice threaded with concern. "You’re putting on a mask, but you know I can see through it."

Paige hesitated for a moment, her gaze dropping to the floor as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She could feel Azzi’s eyes on her, the concern there in the way she was looking at her, but for some reason, the words felt stuck in her throat. She didn’t want to admit how bad it was lately, how much it was all eating away at her.

"I don’t know," Paige said quietly, her voice laced with frustration, a vulnerability she wasn’t used to showing. "It’s just... everything’s too much right now. The pressure. The expectations. I feel like I’m drowning, Azzi. I can’t keep up."

Azzi's heart twisted as she took a step closer, her hand reaching out to gently grasp Paige's arm. "Talk to me, baby," Azzi said softly, her voice full of warmth and care. "You know you’re not in this alone. Whatever you’re feeling, you can share it with me."

Paige let out a shaky breath, the tears she’d been holding back threatening to spill over. She could feel the walls she’d built around herself start to crack, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she wanted to let them fall. She wanted everyone to see everything—the weight of it all, the suffocating pressure she couldn’t escape. She wanted everyone to see just how bad they had made her feel. 

"I just... I don’t know how to do this anymore Az," Paige admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "No matter how hard I try, I’m never enough. The media’s on me, Geno’s on me, even our own damn fans are on me, everyone has something to say, and I feel like I’m constantly failing. If I don’t score 25, if I’m not the one carrying the team every game, it’s like I’m invisible. Like I’m not good enough."

Azzi’s gaze softened even more as she took Paige’s hands in her own, her thumbs brushing over her skin with a soothing touch. "Paige, baby" she said gently, lifting Paige’s chin to meet her eyes. "You are always more than enough. I see everything you’re doing on the court—how you’re leading, how you’re supporting your teammates. You’re making an impact in ways that go beyond just points on the board. And I know how hard you’re working. Don’t let anyone—including yourself—tell you otherwise."

The emotion in Paige’s chest bubbled up, the weight of Azzi’s words landing on her like a balm. She wanted to believe it, wanted to trust that the things her girlfriend said were true. But it was hard to let go of all the voices in her head. It was hard to not think Azzi was just being a supportive girlfriend. 

"I don’t know how to quiet my head," Paige said softly, a tear slipping down her cheek. "How do I keep going when it feels like nothing’s ever enough?"

Azzi pulled her into a gentle hug then, holding her close, her arms wrapping around Paige like a safe haven. "You don’t have to do it alone baby," Azzi murmured into her ear, her voice steady and reassuring. "I’m right here, every step of the way.”

Paige buried her face in Azzi’s shoulder, letting the tears fall freely now with no one else in the gym, no longer holding them back. She didn’t have it in here to be strong right now. She didn’t have it in her to be Uconn’s golden girl right now.

…

But then Uconn almost lost another game. Keyword being almost. 

The room felt suffocating, the walls closing in around Paige as the weight of everything pressed down on her. She had been here a few times before, locked in this dark space, trying to silence the voices in her head, but today felt different. It was harder to breathe, harder to push through.

The game had ended with a win. UConn had won by 11 points, but it wasn’t enough. It never was. Not when you were the star. Not when everyone expected perfection. Geno had praised her performance, sure, but there was always that hint of disappointment in his voice—more could have been done. More passes. More assists. Fewer contested shots because that won’t help in March.

Paige felt like she could feel the media’s eyes on her the entire game, their cameras flashing with judgment as they pounced on every flaw, no matter how small. The fans, too, had their say—complaining that she should have dropped 30 points on an unranked team, that she was being passive and deferring too much to other players. She knew they didn’t understand. They couldn’t see what was really happening on the court, the way she was trying to balance it all, the way she was doing everything she could to make her teammates shine, to get everyone involved.

But none of that mattered. Not to them.

Paige sat on the floor of the suite, back against the wall, feeling like she was shrinking into herself. She knew better than to get sucked into social media. Azzi had told her, warned her to delete it all, to stop looking at the constant stream of opinions from strangers. But here she was, scrolling through her feed, eyes filling with tears as she read each comment, each demand for more, as if she wasn’t already giving everything she had even if it was slowly killing her. 

She let out a shaky breath, biting down on her lip, trying to hold the tears at bay. But it wasn’t enough. The pressure kept building, the anxiety squeezing around her chest, making it harder to breathe. Paige put her phone down with trembling hands, the weight of it all sinking in, her head pounding with the noise in her mind.

Unable to stop herself, she softly banged the back of her head against the wall a few times, willing the thoughts to stop swirling. 

Why wasn’t it enough? Why couldn’t she just be allowed to have a good game, a solid performance, without the world tearing it apart? Why did every win feel like a loss when the criticism outweighed the praise? 

The tears finally came then, falling freely down her face as she sat there, trying to get a grip on her spiraling thoughts. The walls felt like they were slowly closing in, and she couldn’t stop the fear that was creeping into her chest. The fear that no matter how hard she tried, she would never be enough. That one day, the pressure would break her. That she would fall off the face of the Earth and everything for everyone else would keep spinning. 

She hated feeling weak, hated how powerless she felt in this moment. Not being in control. But she just tried to hold onto the thought of Azzi still in her mind, a small thread of comfort in the chaos. Azzi would understand. Azzi always did.

The room felt so empty without her. The silence was suffocating, the isolation almost too much to bear. Each breath Paige tried to take felt shallow, and the harder she focused on her breathing, the more it seemed to slip away. The more difficult it became. Panic was creeping in, like a hand pressing down on her chest, squeezing the air out of her lungs.

She could physically feel all of it—the weight of the expectations, the constant pressure to be perfect. Each thought, each criticism, each word from the media felt like it was wrapping itself around her throat, making it harder to breathe.

She knew she should call Azzi, to try to force some words out so her girlfriend knew how much she needed her. But her phone lay discarded beside her and Paige couldn’t bring herself to look at it. She knew the messages, the comments, that she would unlock her phone to would only make it worse. Her head was spinning, and she couldn’t stop it. Every time she tried to focus her thoughts, to breathe deeply, to imagine Azzi the panic only tightened its grip.

Then the door clicked open, pulling her back from the edge for just a moment. Paige’s heart tried to catch up knowing who it was, but the breath still wouldn’t come.

Azzi froze when she saw Paige, sitting on the floor, her face buried in her hands, shoulders shaking. It only took a second for Azzi to drop her bag and throw her phone on the bed before rushing over. She didn’t hesitate, kneeling in front of Paige, taking her face in her hands. Paige couldn’t look at her, her breathing coming in sharp, uneven gasps.

"Paige," Azzi’s voice was gentle, but firm. "Look at me."

But Paige couldn’t. She was shaking, struggling, trapped in the chaos of her mind. Azzi saw it instantly—this wasn’t just sadness this time. This was another panic attack.

"Hey, hey, listen to me," Azzi said softly, her fingers brushing along Paige’s cheek, trying to steady her. "Breathe, baby. You’re okay."

Azzi’s own breaths were deep, slow, as she began to count, trying to guide Paige through the chaos. "In... one, two, three..." she counted, her voice low but steady. "Exhale... one, two, three..."

Paige’s chest heaved, her breaths sharp and ragged. She tried to focus on Azzi’s voice, but everything felt distant, blurry and out of reach.

"Come on, breathe with me," Azzi whispered, gently urging her. "In... one, two, three..." She let the air out slowly, counting as she did. "Exhale... one, two, three."

Paige’s body trembled, and Azzi could feel the weight of her distress, her panic. But she kept her voice calm, breaking each sentence into short, steady breaths.

"You’re safe," Azzi said, her thumb gently tracing over Paige’s skin. "I’m here. Breathe with me baby."

Paige’s breaths came in short, gasping bursts, still out of rhythm. She tried to follow Azzi’s lead, but each time she focused on her breath, it slipped further away.

"In... two, three," Azzi counted, her voice never wavering. "Exhale... two, three. You’re okay. I love you. I’m here."

Paige’s hands shook as she clutched at her chest, fighting for air. "I can’t... Azzi..." she gasped, her voice barely audible. She was drowning in the overwhelming pressure, feeling like she was finally losing the battle.

"You can," Azzi whispered, her own breath deepening as she counted. "In... one, two, three... Exhale... one, two, three." She leaned closer, her forehead gently resting against Paige’s. "Focus on me. You’re doing great. In, out. In, out."

The air in the room seemed to thicken, but slowly, Paige’s breathing began to soften. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better. The frantic gasps slowed, her chest rising and falling with each breath, steadier now.

Azzi didn’t stop. She kept her hand on Paige’s face, gently coaxing her. "You’re so amazing, baby. You’re so strong. You’re so perfect."

Each breath they took together was a small step, and with every inhale, Paige felt the panic loosen its grip, just a little. Her hands stopped shaking as much, her body less rigid. Azzi’s voice was still steady, counting each breath, reassuring her.

"Good," Azzi said, her voice soft but filled with warmth. "That’s it. You’re okay now. Just breathe with me."

Paige’s breath was slower now, the panic starting to fade, replaced with exhaustion. She looked up at Azzi, her eyes filled with gratitude, but there was still a trace of vulnerability in her gaze.

Azzi smiled softly, her thumb brushing across Paige’s cheek. "I’m here," she whispered again, as though to remind Paige that she wasn’t alone. "I promise you’re never alone."

The storm hadn’t completely passed, but in that moment, with Azzi’s arms around her and her steady presence grounding her, Paige felt like she could breathe again.

After a few minutes of quiet, Azzi didn’t speak. She simply stood up and took Paige’s hand, gently guiding her towards the bathroom. Paige let herself be led, her body feeling light but exhausted, her mind still clouded and heavy. She felt empty, drained, but Azzi was there—her steady hand, her calm presence, like a lifeline in the chaos.

Azzi helped Paige undress. Paige didn’t protest, too worn out to resist, too overwhelmed to think about anything beyond the comfort Azzi was offering. When Azzi took off her own clothes and stepped into the shower with Paige, there was no rush, no urgency, just a quiet understanding between them as they sat in silence for a little bit.

Azzi began undoing Paige’s two braids softly as she kissed her girlfriends cheek or neck now and then. She then reached for the shampoo, squeezing a generous amount into her palm before gently massaging it into Paige’s wet hair. The warm water cascaded down over them, mingling with the steam, but all Paige could focus on was the soothing pressure of Azzi’s fingers against her scalp. Slowly, the tension in her body began to melt away. She leaned into Azzi, letting her eyes close as she rested her head on her shoulders, the simple act of being cared for grounding her even further.

Azzi didn’t say anything, her hands working methodically, rinsing the shampoo from Paige’s hair before applying conditioner. The quiet was comforting, the sound of water and Azzi’s soft hum in Paige’s ear were the only things filling the space.

When Azzi finished rinsing the conditioner out of her hair, Paige finally opened her eyes, meeting Azzi’s gaze. Azzi’s eyes softened, filled with a tenderness Paige couldn’t quite put into words. Her love for Paige was clear in the way she looked at her—gentle, unwavering, and so full of admiration.

Paige’s throat tightened, but she whispered, “Thank you.” Her voice was hoarse, but full of gratitude.

Azzi smiled, her thumb lightly grazing Paige’s cheek as she leaned in to press a soft kiss to her lips. “You don’t have to thank me, baby. I told you, no matter what, I’m always in your corner and I’m going to help you get through this.” 

The words settled into Paige’s chest. She wasn’t alone. Azzi was there, always there.

Without thinking, Paige wrapped her arms around Azzi, pulling her close. The water hit them both, but neither of them cared. They stood there, their bodies pressed together, holding each other in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

…

Steam lingered in the air as Paige stepped out of the bathroom dressed in a hoodie and sweats, her damp hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders. The soft shuffle of Azzi’s movements drew her attention to the bed, where Azzi had just sat cross-legged, a comb in one hand and two hair ties in the other.

"Come here," Azzi said softly, patting the space in front of her.

Paige raised an eyebrow, but the gentle look in Azzi’s eyes pulled her forward. She settled on the floor, her back to Azzi, who immediately began threading her fingers through Paige’s damp hair.

For a while, the room was quiet except for the faint sound of the comb gliding through Paige’s hair. Azzi broke the silence, her voice gentle. "You wanna tell me what’s been on your mind tonight?"

Paige was silent, staring at her hands clasped in her lap. She bit her bottom lip, her mind racing as she tried to find the words. "I just... I don’t know what people want from me anymore," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azzi paused briefly, her hands stilling before resuming their steady rhythm. "What do you mean?"

"It’s like..." Paige hesitated, trying to find the words. "It’s not about basketball anymore. Every game, every move—it’s a story for someone else to tell. I can’t stop thinking about what people are gonna say after every game, and it’s exhausting."

Azzi hummed softly as she began parting Paige’s hair for the braids. "Do you think about that while you’re playing?"

Paige nodded, her voice small. "Sometimes. It’s like... the game isn’t just the game anymore. There’s so much pressure to live up to everyone’s expectations, and it makes it hard to just... enjoy it. To be in the moment."

Azzi gently tugged one section of hair, starting the first braid. "Paige, baby, you’ve been playing basketball your whole life. You didn’t fall in love with it because of what other people thought. You fell in love with it because it made you happy.”

"I know," Paige said, her voice wavering slightly. "But it’s hard not to care when there’s so many expectations. It’s like... no matter what I do, it’s never enough for me to just get one day of silence. And I just don’t want to let anyone down."

Azzi’s hands worked steadily as she braided, her voice calm but firm. "You can’t control what people think or say, no matter how hard you try so we gotta let that part go. But you can control remembering why you play. You don’t owe anyone anything, Paige—not the fans, not the critics, not even me baby. You play this game for you and only you. 

Paige was quiet for a moment, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweats. "It’s just hard to block it all out sometimes."

"I know it is," Azzi said softly, tying off the first braid and starting on the second. "But you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. You’ve handled so much already, you’ve been through so much already and you’re still here, still fighting. That’s what matters."

Paige glanced over her shoulder, a small smile breaking through her thoughtful expression. "When did you get so wise?"

Azzi grinned, focused on finishing the second braid. "I’ve always been this wise. You’re just quiet enough for the first time to actually pay attention."

Paige chuckled, leaning into Azzi’s touch as she tied off the braid. Azzi ran her fingers over the finished work, smoothing down stray hairs before giving Paige’s shoulder a light squeeze.

"There," Azzi said, standing up and heading to the corner of the room to grab her basketball shoes. "Now, let’s go."

Paige blinked, looking at her with clear confusion on her face. "What? Go where?"

"The gym," Azzi said matter-of-factly, sliding her feet into some slides

Paige stared at her in disbelief. "Az, we just played an entire game and just got out of the shower. You’re crazy." 

Azzi smirked, tossing Paige’s shoes onto the floor beside her. "Come on, Superstar. I’m not asking."

Paige groaned, flopping back onto the carpet. "I picked a crazy person to be my girlfriend," she muttered, though a small grin tugged at her lips.

Azzi stepped closer, brushing a playful kiss against Paige’s temple. "Definitely, thought that was in the fine print though."

With a dramatic sigh, Paige sat up, slipping on her shoes and tying them lazily. "You’re lucky you’re cute," she grumbled as she followed Azzi out the door to her car. 

…

The gym was eerily quiet, the faint hum of the overhead lights the only sound as Paige and Azzi switched into their basketball shoes. Paige stood near the baseline, watching Azzi lace up her sneakers with an amused expression.

Azzi grabbed a basketball from the rack, dribbling it once before tossing it to Paige. "Check."

Paige caught the ball, raising an eyebrow at Azzi. "What are we doing?"

Azzi, already standing at the three point line, grinned. "We’re playing one-on-one."

Paige scoffed, spinning the ball lazily in her hands. "No, we’re not."

Azzi tilted her head, feigning innocence. "What, scared you’ll lose?"

Paige rolled her eyes, her competitive spirit sparking lightly at Azzi’s accusation. "First of all, I don’t lose one-on-one. Second, I definitely wouldn’t lose to my girlfriend."

Azzi smirked. "Then prove it. Play me. Otherwise I’ll just tell everyone you were scared."

Paige muttered something incoherent under her breath before lazily checking the ball back to Azzi.

Azzi immediately took advantage of Paige’s relaxed posture, going into a quick jumper from behind the arc. The ball arching beautifully through the air and swishing through the net.

"2-0," Azzi announced, her smirk widening.

Paige groaned, grabbing the ball. "Alright, that’s real cute."

When Paige checked the ball this time, she pressed a hand firmly against Azzi’s hip, cutting off her space. Azzi tried to drive left, but Paige stuck with her, their bodies brushing as they collided. Azzi pivoted, stepping back into a mid-range jumper that kissed the front of the rim before bouncing in.

"3-0," Azzi teased, grinning. "You’re looking a little slow tonight, P. You tired?"

"Yeah?" Paige’s voice dripped with mock sweetness as she checked the ball again. Azzi tried to hit another step back but it bounded off the rim. 

They checked the ball and Paige jab-stepped to her left, forcing Azzi to shift her weight, then crossed over and exploded to the basket with a quick step. Azzi stayed close, but Paige used her body to shield the ball, finishing with a layup off the glass. 

"3-1," Paige said, flashing a smug grin.

Azzi grabbed the ball, her competitive spirit ignited even though this was supposed to be about Paige. As they continued to play, their movements grew sharper and more physical. Paige backed Azzi down on one possession, bumping her with her shoulder before spinning for a fadeaway jumper. Azzi countered by cutting through the lane with a quick first step, using her speed to slip past Paige for an easy floater.

The teasing never stopped.

"Didn’t know I signed up for wrestling practice," Azzi quipped after Paige body-checked her on a drive.

"Yeah yeah," Paige shot back. "You’re not getting past me again."

Azzi grinned. "Oh, I’m passing you right now." She immediately drove left, brushing past Paige’s hip as she hooked her slightly and finishing with a reverse layup that left Paige shaking her head.

The game became more intense with each possession. Azzi swatted one of Paige’s layup attempts, the ball flying out of bounds. Paige groaned.

"You’ve never done that in your life" Paige said, narrowing her eyes as she retrieved the ball.

"First time for everything," Azzi replied, standing tall and grinning.

Paige responded by hitting a deep three-pointer, holding her follow-through for much longer than necessary as the ball sailed through the hoop. "9-8," Paige said, her smirk confident.

On the next possession, she used a quick hesitation move to fake Azzi out of position, draining another jumper.

As the score climbed, so did the tension. The gym felt warmer, their breaths coming faster, their earlier shower completely undone by the sweat dripping down their faces. Every drive and every block brought them closer, their bodies brushing and colliding in ways that blurred the lines between competition and something more.

At one point, Azzi’s hand lingered on Paige’s waist as she pivoted for a shot, and Paige didn’t pull away. Instead, she smirked, leaning in slightly as she jab-stepped.

"You getting distracted on me?" Paige teased, her voice low.

" Nope," Azzi fired back, though her flushed cheeks suggested otherwise.

Eventually they were tied at 17, both breathing heavily as they sized each other up. Paige had the ball tucked against her hip, her gaze locked on Azzi.

"What do I get when I win?" Paige asked, her tone playful but laced with a hint of something more.

Azzi’s eyes narrowed, her lips curving into a smile. "You’re not going to win."

Paige chuckled, her confidence unshaken. "Guess we’ll see."

She dribbled slowly, luring Azzi to sleep on defense before hitting her with a fast combo move before she drove hard to the basket, finishing with a finger roll that danced around the rim before dropping in.

"18-17," Paige said, smirking as she checked the ball. "Told you, I don’t lose."

It was Azzi’s ball again and once she caught the ball back from Paige, she stepped back, shooting a quick three-pointer that hit nothing but the bottom of the net.

"19-18," Azzi said, mimicking Paige’s earlier tone. She smirked, stepping closer. "What am I getting when I win?"

Paige grinned, walking up to Azzi until they were nearly nose to nose. “A little something to remind you how giving I can be.”

Azzi shook her head, laughing. "You’re full of it."

The game continued, both of them refusing to give an inch to the other but finally Paige ended it with a three that rattled in after she hit Azzi with a hesi pullup. 

"That’s game," Paige said, her voice triumphant as she grabbed her water bottle.

Azzi was smiling as she sipped from her own bottle, her grin unusually big. Paige noticed and raised an eyebrow. "You do know you just lost, right?"

Azzi kept smiling, stepping closer until they were chest to chest. "Yeah," she said softly. "But you weren’t thinking about anything else besides this game, were you?"

Paige blinked, her grin softening as realization hit her. For the first time in a while, she hadn’t been consumed by the weight of everyone’s expectations and opinions of how she was playing. She’d just been... playing.

"Huh," Paige said, her voice quieter. "I guess not."

Azzi smirked, leaning in close, her voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "See? I told you I’d help."

Paige leaned in, her lips brushing against Azzi’s, but before she could close the gap, Azzi stepped back with a mischievous grin.

"Nah," Azzi said, grabbing her water bottle and bag. "I’m a sore loser. You don’t get a kiss after beating me."

Paige laughed. "The winner’s supposed to get something."

Azzi tilted her head, her voice dipping into a sultry tone. "Oh? Is that what you want from me baby?"

Paige nodded, her smile growing as she stepped closer, but Azzi turned on her heel, heading for the door.

"You gotta work for it," Azzi called over her shoulder, her voice dripping with playful challenge as she walked away.

Paige stood there, dumbfounded, watching her girlfriend’s retreating figure. Despite everything she’d been feeling earlier, all the negativity and doubt, Azzi had completely unraveled it and left nothing but the Paige who loved to play basketball more than anything.

"Wait!" Paige called after her, grinning. "So, I’m really not getting any tonight?"

Azzi turned, walking backward as her smirk deepened. "Maybe," she teased, her eyes gleaming. "But like I said you gotta work for it P."

Paige chuckled, shaking her head as she jogged after her, a lightness settling in her chest. She couldn’t stop the grin spreading across her face, her eyes fixed on Azzi.

"Thank the gods," Paige muttered under her breath, her voice laced with a mix of humor and adoration, "and every single heaven above for Azzi Fudd."

The thought made her laugh softly to herself as she caught up, ready to follow wherever Azzi led her next.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Hi!! this is my first time requesting anything but i was wondering if you could do creepypasta boys were you kiss / compliment there scars!

Kissing their scars (various crp)

Bro I scratched my skin right next to this burn last week and it HURTS so bad

Characters: Jeff the Killer, Ticci Toby, Eyeless Jack

Notes: Reader is GN, fluff, these boys need help

CWs: talks of violence in.. well all of them, mentioned of self harm in Jeff's part

Jeff

You decide to kiss the gashes in his cheeks, the ones that he carved.. he never really viewed them as anything very negative; sure it reminds him of the night he killed his entire gamily.. a fact he has a very wishy washy feeling of guilt over depending on the day

At first he thinks you're trying to kiss his cheeks but you make it very clear what you're trying to do when you begin to compliment them- they've healed so well since theyve been put there

Between the three he tries to play it off the most, of course it looks nice- they make him beautiful, and he always will be beautiful! What are you talking about reader?

Hes not at all willing to be vulnerable around you, it doesnt matter how long you two know each other or how close you get he never.. really let's himself just be in his feelings around others

But just know that hes going to be sitting in bed tonight looking up at the ceiling replaying what you've said and going back over the events that lead him here- rare moment of self reflection essentially

But to your face.. hes just the same as hes always been, even teasing you for having such a huuuge crush on him- bonus if the two of you are already dating

Eyeless Jack

You rarely ever get to see him without the mask, but when you do.. it's best not to do something like this the first time you see his eye sockets- hes very cagey about his face in the first place and hes not quiet ready to handle more attention drawn to it. The first few times it's off it's best to meet it with indifference

But when more time passes, you're more than welcome to test the waters. You already knew Jack had a fair collection of scars, but there was a different feel to the burned and gashed holes where his eyes would have been

He wont let you kiss him, mostly because hes unsure of what exactly the goo was made of, as well as naturally not liking the idea of someone putting their mouth where his eyes just to be- but you're allowed to trace your fingers along the scar tissue

Hes never going to tell you what happened unless theres a reason to, hes very firm when setting this boundary. It's just something that makes him feel.. gross..

He already doesn't talk much but he becomes silent as you trace your fingers and talk to him

He might go back to wearing his mask all the time again for a while but it's not exactly your fault, it was just a huge step- it's okay to back up a bit to process things

Ticci Toby

Due to his CIPA he has a bit of a disconnect between him and his injuries, scars included. He didnt really feel them when they were being made, sure he may have felt some pressure depending on what caused it but other than that, nothing really.. for a lot of them he doesnt have much thoughts- neither good nor bad

The only ones that really make him feel something are the ones he sustained from the crash- they're scattered across his body...

If you kissed or complimented any other scar he would tease you for being a little "weird", even making it a game to guess where he got the current scar from- with outlandish answers of course

But the second you reach one of /those/ scars the fun is immediately cut, you can tell theres something off

Similar to Jack, its something that has to be eased into due to the weight associated with the injuries. It's not the fact that it hurt when he got them but they serve as a reminder of what he lost

The only one who really tries to change the subject, perhaps by asking if you have any scars or markings on your body or simply changing the subject all together

Probably the only one who wouldn't want to be complimented due to the nature of some of his scars

[aurumalatus]

YOU ARE THE ONLY THING

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ (THAT'S EVER MADE SENSE TO ME)

wc. 5k chapter warnings. angst, cursing chapter summary. the memory of you haunts kinich wherever he goes, a perpetual existence in his life. but when he sees you again by chance, he takes the opportunity to try to right his wrongs. author's note. the first chapter of many...this is gonna be a bit of an emotional rollercoaster, a lot of stupid mistakes and forgiveness and moving on and all that good stuff. pls lmk what y'all think! reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

masterlist | next ↣

MAYBE WE DON'T TALK ENOUGH. [1]

The graduation ceremony had been lovely, Kinich is sure.

If he had actually been paying attention to any of it, he might’ve even had fun. The field had been decorated with an array of balloons and flowers reflecting your school colors. Countless tears are shed and hugs are exchanged—he knows this might just be the last time he sees some of these people for the rest of his life. In a way, it’s a tribute to the childhood he’s spent here.

He scoffs, kicking at the dirt. To hell with that.

Because while everyone else had been grinning widely, proudly cheered on by their families, all he could do was stare at the empty seats in the stand. Unfulfilled promises swirl madly in his mind; the congratulations that people offer him in passing just slip in one ear and out the other.

So when you approach him, one hand outstretched as you shyly ask him to talk alone, all he can do is follow, blankly staring at the back of your head.

“Kinich, I have something to tell you.”

/

Kinich feels the remnants of you when he runs, sweat sticking to his skin and cold, biting air filling his lungs in a single breath.

Mid-stride, he zips his windbreaker to his neck, watching his breath dissipate like ice. The wind feels so much more piercing when he runs—it stings at his skin and his teeth. Fallen leaves crunch underfoot, a blanket of color over the edges of the field. Autumn always makes him feel melancholic—change always makes him feel melancholic.

Each step pounds heavy in the grass, picking up speed. His teammates know that he likes to run alone, just him and his contemplation—though Aether claims that it makes him a crazy person—and these are the rare times that he can just think.

Running comes naturally to him. Thinking does too, but not like this.

Most days, he tries to stay busy enough to avoid the thoughts. When he’s busy, there isn’t time to reflect on the past, there isn’t time to regret. Being team captain and taking as many credit overloads as he does means that he can stay ahead of the impending waves of guilt.

But when he runs, and it’s just him and the sound of his footsteps, memories of you start to creep in.

They say grief comes in waves, and he believes that must be true—you’ve always been a tide, ebbing and flowing into his life. That much was a constant, even when you weren’t. 

(Or, even when you ceased to be.)

He can go about a few weeks without thinking about you, as far as he’s tried. And he means really thinking about you, not just a brief thought relating to you, or your life, or your memory—he’s not sure he could last even ten minutes that way. Over the years, you’ve become so tightly intertwined with his being that he’s not sure he could ever untangle that connection fully.

His laptop password had been your birthday for years after you left. He still makes his tea the way you taught him, with lemon and just a spoonful of honey. Your shared playlists still haven’t left his Spotify library.

He sighs. Three years is a long time.

It’s long enough for most normal, well-adjusted people to grow out of their past relationship, or at least not be wondering about them for a majority of the day. And that’s if he can even call what the two of you had a relationship—it had been something, and it was his fault that it wasn’t anything more.

Sometimes, he just wonders where you are and what you’re doing.

It’s a sick sort of thing to ponder, especially knowing what he did to you, but he can’t help it—often, he sees you in everything.

He wishes that wasn’t the case.

A part of him wishes he could strike you from the history of his existence. Another part of him wishes he could see you again, just once.

“Sorry for calling you out here! I just thought if I didn’t tell you now, I might never tell you…”

“Kinich!”

He flinches halfway through his step, the echo of your voice fading somewhere in the back of his mind. When he skitters to a stop, he realizes it’s his coach yelling his name, one hand cupped at his mouth and the other frantically waving his clipboard. He gauges the distance between them—lost in his thoughts, he had run about 200 feet straight past the other man.

Flushing in embarrassment, Kinich jogs back to meet him.

“Sorry about that,” he pants. “Was just thinking about one of my exams.”

There’s a pause, like Coach Wayna is deciding whether to ask questions or let it go—Kinich isn’t usually one to lose track of himself, after all. Still, the man seems to land on the latter.

“Well, nice hustle,” he praises, rewarding him with a strong clap on the shoulder. “Get some water and wash up.”

He slaps a towel into Kinich’s outstretched hand—he accepts gratefully, slinging it over his neck and scrubbing the sweat off his face. 

He glances up at the graying sky. The clouds are coalescing into mismatched swirls—maybe it’ll rain tonight, he thinks vaguely. It doesn’t usually stop them from practicing anyway. He can recall a number of times that he has walked home drenched in mud.

“Already? It’s early, isn’t it?”

At this time of year, practices don’t usually end until the sun kisses the horizon, dipping and dimming. Kinich usually walks back to his apartment with his roommates at dusk, Aether’s whining carrying them home.

Coach Wayna is busy watching the other guys run, scribbling something down on his clipboard.

“We’re letting out early today,” he shrugs.

Licking over his lips, Kinich tastes the salt pooling at his cupid’s bow, lungs heaving.

“What’s the occasion?” he asks, raising a brow.

Looking out over the field, he watches the rest of his teammates finish their sprints. Aether is messing around again, trying to leapfrog over Xiao’s back, much to the latter’s irritation. Gaming seems to find the sight amusing, based on the way he whoops and cheers.

Kinich sighs, shaking his head—Aether is lucky that he’s as talented as he is.

Coach Wayna laughs, a guffawing sound that resounds deep in his chest and across the field. He’s a good-natured guy, really, if not a bit more patient than Kinich himself can manage.

“The occasion is that you guys are college students,” he explains, “and sometimes, I’m willing to let you enjoy your lives a little bit.”

A half-scowl crawls over Kinich’s lips. Coach Wayna is always on them about enjoying their lives outside the sport, just like everyone else in Kinich’s life. His friends have always been determined to get him out of his bedroom and get him participating in something that isn’t his clubs. It’s irritating sometimes, to say the least.

Kinich’s tongue runs dry, so he pads over to the cooler, throwing the top open and pulling a water bottle out to shake off the excess condensation. It’s nice and cool, a welcome sensation even when the air is colder than usual—internally, his skin thrums with heat.

He gets about halfway through the bottle by the time his teammates make it over, in various states of exhaustion. Aether is first to react, letting out a loud groan and flopping to the ground dramatically.

“Coach, are you trying to kill me?” he whines, throwing an arm over his eyes. “I can’t feel my legs.”

Xiao approaches Kinich directly, taking a water bottle from his outstretched hand.

“It’s your fault that you’re so tired,” Xiao deadpans, taking a swig and settling down in the grass. “Because you were late, the rest of us had to run extra.”

As kind as Coach Wayna is, he doesn’t let things like tardiness slide too often—Kinich’s legs burn as a firm reminder of that. Everything they do, they do as a team, which includes punishment.

“Blame Lumine,” Aether grumbles. “She forgot her keys, so I had to drop her off at work.”

Aether’s sister, as kind as she is, does tend to be a bit forgetful. But Aether is also irresponsible as hell sometimes, so there’s a 50% chance that he merely overslept. Xiao seems to silently agree, based on the way his brows knit together.

Coach Wayna has a short meeting with them to end practice, and Kinich half-listens—he’s still caught up on earlier. It’s only when Aether flicks him in the back of the head that he returns to earth.

“Hey, airhead, we’re going to Third Round Knockout,” he says, an order, not an invitation. Kinich scowls.

“You mean you’re going,” he corrects, packing up his duffel bag. “I’m going home so I can take an ice bath and forget this ever happened.”

He can count a number of other things that are infinitely more important than taking a single step in that greasy place, too. He has a few exams coming up to study for, a lab report to do, and a few logistics issues to resolve with his financial aid and scholarship. So really, he has no business going out at all.

But the thought grows more and more appealing the more his stomach rumbles. Aether seems to notice too, because he grins cheekily, slinging an arm over his friend’s shoulder.

“Just follow the sweet, sweet siren song of burgers and fries, and let it guide you home.”

Xiao sighs from where he sits on the bench, shaking his head—sharing an apartment with Aether and Kinich means he’ll likely get roped into this too. Aether goes around making his pitch to all their teammates, but most decline on the basis of being too busy or having things to do. Kinich thinks they’re just too exhausted to deal with Aether’s antics.

“I can’t, I’m sorry,” Gaming whines, checking his phone. “I have an exam tomorrow and if I don’t study and sleep, I’m gonna fail for sure.”

Aether wags a finger in his face, grinning. “You don’t have to study, C’s get degrees!”

Kinich wonders if he should step in, knowing how easily influenced Gaming can be when it comes to Aether’s lax personality. He doesn’t have time to get the words out, however, because Xiao strides past with a critical side-eye. 

“Yes, and Aether’s get dropped from their university…”

“I don’t—hey!”

“Let’s just go,” Kinich sighs, hoisting his bag over his shoulder. Aether pouts, but follows his teammates off the field. 

“Fine, but Xiao’s treating!”

/

Third Round Knockout is exactly the type of place Kinich imagines college students to like.

It sounds strange when he words it like that, considering he is a college student himself, but he means a different type of college student—the type that finds cheap, greasy pizza and boisterous laughter enticing. Or perhaps anyone who finds the showy, race car-themed decor attractive (just how much money did they spend on checkered flags?), or thinks that spending your Friday night listening to pop music from low-quality speakers is a good time.

He doesn’t mean it in a really bad way, of course. He’s friends with college students like that (like Aether), and that’s the only reason he finds himself stepping past the threshold. Still, after a long day of practice, he can’t deny that sitting down for some food sounds pretty good right about now, even if that food comes cheap and deep-fried.

“God, I’m fucking starving,” Aether moans, collapsing into one of the booths in exhaustion. He flips one of the plastic-lined menus over, scanning over the food options. “I seriously think if I have to wait another second to eat, I’ll die.”

Xiao slides into the booth next to him, brows furrowed as he types away at something on his phone. “Seems like you’re always somehow on the verge of dying.”

Though his stomach grumbles, Kinich doesn’t bother looking at the menu—the food here is as standard as it gets, burgers and fries that drip with grease and milkshakes that are basically entirely comprised of sugar. But he reasons that he probably deserves this after the day that he’s had. 

Everything had been nothing short of exhausting. He had conditioning in the morning, followed by three exams back to back, then headed to practice right after. Needless to say, his brain is running on the fumes of the black coffee he downed in between his second and third lecture.

“You good, man?” Aether asks, poking at Kinich’s hand. “You’ve been looking like a zombie all day.”

Kinich figures that a zombie is probably an apt description for how he looks right now, in his ragged hoodie and old sweats. He hadn’t been planning on a night out, after all, but he’s not one to care for fashion even on a good day.

He merely mumbles back an “I’m fine,” thoroughly disinterested in discussing what he’s endured in the last twenty-four hours. He presumes that that’s just the life of a university student like him. The athletic scholarship is good, and he does enjoy playing with his teammates, so he’ll rest and recover and do it all again tomorrow, just like he always does.

Xiao and Aether start bickering over something on the menu, so Kinich takes that opportunity to zone out.

He blinks tiredly, gaze wandering—the bright, multicolored decor is almost too much for his weary eyes. People are drinking and grinding to the music on the dance floor across the room, the bass of the music so loud that he can feel it vibrating under his feet.

Sighing, he pinches at the bridge of his nose, trying to avoid a migraine.

He shouldn’t have come today. His mental to-do list only grows longer, and staying home would’ve been a far more efficient use of his time. Perhaps a part of him had felt guilty for how busy he’s been in the past few weeks—it’s actually been quite a while since he sat down with his friends like this.

“Alright, Kinich, you lose!”

The sound of his name pulls him from the depths of his mind to find Aether and Xiao staring at him expectantly.

“What?”

Aether nods to the counter, crowded with a swathe of people. “You have to go order. You were last to nose goes.”

Nose goes? Kinich’s face scrunches in disbelief. Sometimes, he feels more like a kindergarten teacher than a soccer team captain.

“Are you four years old?”

Aether tilts his head, a challenge. “Are you rejecting the sanctity of nose goes?”

Maybe he doesn’t feel so guilty for being busy after all.

Desperate, Kinich looks to Xiao for support, but the other man shrugs, as if to say I can’t deal with him either. Arguing with Aether is a guaranteed headache, so Kinich merely groans, begrudgingly rising from his seat.

“Whatever. Just tell me what you want, then.”

He sighs as he shoves through the crowd, passing through sweaty limbs and sticky floors. No one seems to pay him any mind, and he takes a few accidental elbows to the ribs. God, he wants to throw up.

The actual line for the counter isn’t too long, luckily. There’s only one or two people in front of him. 

He checks over Aether and Xiao’s orders in their groupchat. Aether’s order is a list about a mile long, while Xiao simply wants a single combo meal. Typical.

He thinks on his own order a bit, and he’s midway through creating a mental list about the pros and cons of getting french fries versus onion rings when he looks up again to gauge the wait time. His breath hitches as he realizes two things:

He’s next in line.

He knows the people at the counter.

One of them is Childe, donned in a white t-shirt and a dark leather jacket.

Kinich knows who Childe is just like everyone else—with how much his name gets thrown around on this campus, he’d have to be an idiot not to. Being the star quarterback of the football team, he’s as close to a celebrity as one can get around here. Plus, they have some mutual friends, but Kinich doesn’t really consider Childe a friend, per say. They’re acquaintances at best.

But Kinich doesn’t really care about Childe—he doesn’t know him well, never has, probably never will, and he’s not one to worry about people outside of his concern. No, it’s not Childe that draws his attention at all; in fact, he’s in the way of it.

It’s the fact that Childe is talking to you.

Kinich sucks in a breath.

He blinks once, thinking it may just be his exhaustion playing tricks on him, but you’re still standing there, smiling up at the other man.

Though he’d known that you applied to this school, he never found out where you actually ended up going—you’d blocked him on everything post-graduation, after all. It seems like some sort of sick sign from the universe that you would be here right now.

You’re wearing the Third Round Knockout uniform, he notes dully—so you work here. But that still doesn’t explain why you’re smiling and laughing with Childe, looking entirely too happy with his company. Kinich has talked to the ginger before, and he’s not that funny. 

Childe turns at that moment, seemingly finished ordering his food, before he lights up in recognition.

“Ah, Kinich, what’s up?” he greets, patting him on the shoulder. “Hey, nice game the other day! You’re fast as hell.”

If he were anywhere else but here, Kinich might’ve actually appreciated Childe’s compliment. But right now, he can’t even remember what game he’s referring to; instead, he offers a dry, tight-lipped smile.

“Thanks.”

He peeks around Childe’s arm—you haven’t noticed him yet, too busy counting bills and stuffing them into the register. You’re halfway through a yawn when you call out to him.

“I can help the next person, please!”

Childe shoots him a grin, waving as he steps past him to leave, and suddenly Kinich feels overwhelmingly vulnerable. It feels endless, the drag of your gaze as it turns up to him, falling to his face. Pure shock paints your features.

Something unearths in his chest, kicking up with dust that stings at the corners of his eyes. 

They bloom there, a wealth of feelings that wrap like thorn-lined vines around his heartbeat. Regret speaks the loudest—it screams from where it sits, panging with familiarity at the sight of your face.

“K—Kinich,” you greet once you recover from your initial shock, a rasp. There’s an audible lump in your throat, voice reedy and thin. 

You look even more beautiful than he remembers. That’s all he can think as his brain force feeds him a series of memories—images of hazy sunsets and half-empty spray paint cans and secrets shared between chapped lips. His entire youth is nearly synonymous with your name.

His eyes draw to your neck, the bareness of it; it makes his heart ache.

You toy with the silver chain swinging at your throat, shyly staring down at your feet.

Almost in slow motion, your hand slinks up to your collarbone, reaching for something that isn’t there. It has Kinich’s eyes fluttering shut for a moment, almost painfully.

“Hi,” he starts, sound barely crawling from his throat. “It’s been a long time.”

He waits, but he doesn’t know what for. A change, in expression, in tone, in something, a sign that you remember what the two of you were, or perhaps what you could’ve been. But you’re still blankly staring at him like he’s a stranger.

“Can I help you?”

Kinich forgets about the food entirely. He just can’t get over how different you look, sound, and are. It’s a stupid realization—obviously you would’ve changed in the last three years. But somehow, he feels like he’s been the only one rooted in place all this time.

“Sir?” you repeat pointedly. “Can I help you?”

He utters your name once, soft, then inches forward, an instinct. “Listen, I’m sorry—”

“You don’t have to apologize,” you interrupt smoothly, devoid of warmth. You back away, defenses up; you’d expected this from him, clearly. “I don’t really want or need it.”

And it hurts to hear that, that you don’t really want or need something from him. Because that always used to be the case, used to be your normal—clinging to each other, wanting and needing and having each other. And though he doesn’t like to live in the past, this is one thing that Kinich is unwilling to let go of.

“Can I…still try?” he starts, hesitant. “To apologize?”

The music still pulses in his veins, in his hands, in his chest—it echoes in his ears as he awaits your reply.

Deep down, he knows he shouldn’t do this. He’d lost any right to pursue you years ago. And he’s certainly not the type to make emotionally-charged confessions in public, but he sees you and he wonders if you still remember his favorite color.

It’s messing with his head.

“Why would you?” Your tone is biting, words sharp as they’re flung off your tongue. “No offense, but we haven’t known each other for years. I don’t see a point.”

And though you’re right, the thought pains him—there had been a time when he was the only one who knew every part of you, and you of him. But you’ve changed so much, you both have, and the evidence is standing before him.

Your eyes fill with frost. His mouth grows dry with regret.

“I know, but at that time, I—”

“You avoided me for months, Kinich,” you cut in quietly, thumbing at the edges of your sleeves. He knows that habit—you always do it when you’re nervous. “Forgive me for thinking that meant you wanted nothing to do with me.”

The bitterness leaks into your voice. You’re trying to be indifferent, but the resentment still feels raw.

And he deserves that, deserves this, he knows; he’s made a lot of mistakes when it comes to you. He more than anyone knows how much he fucked up, and if he could take it back, he would do so in a heartbeat. But he can’t, and your dull eyes and bare neck are evidence of that.

“You’re right,” he breathes, then swallows, gathering himself. “I’m sorry.”

You clear your throat, looking for something else to busy yourself with—anything to avoid eye contact. 

“You don’t have to be.”

Despite your words, the misery is written across your face, like you’re reliving every single moment of that day. And, of course, you have no way of knowing, but he wonders if you realize how often he relives it too.

“Now that we’ve graduated, I just thought you should know…”

Kinich feels completely out of his element, pinned in place.

He wonders what he even wants out of this whole interaction. Your anger? Your hatred? Would it have made him feel better than your disinterest? His fist clenches.

Say something. Don’t let it repeat itself.

It’s always been his vice—he doesn’t think he’s a stupid person, but he does think he’s a quiet one. And sometimes, that comes back to bite him in the worst moments. When he thinks back on the moments he’s shared with you, he can recall so many times that he could’ve said something. And maybe it wouldn’t have saved you both, but what if it would’ve?

You’re sighing in resignation, looking over his shoulder to call the next person when he speaks, hasty. 

“If you ever want to talk about what happened, we can. I can.”

It reeks of desperation, and he has half a mind to be embarrassed, but the feeling doesn’t surface. Instead, he catches a flicker of budding hope in your eyes, a wink of familiarity that has his heart slamming against his ribcage. 

Your lips form the shape of his name, and Kinich finds his breath.

“I like you, Kinich. A lot. For a while now. And, if you’ll have me, I’d like us to be together.”

“What’s going on here?”

Too focused on your expression, Kinich fails to notice the older man sneaking up behind you, a stern frown on his face and arms crossed. You cringe at the intrusion, already struck with a sense of foreboding. 

You whip around, hands drawn meekly to your chest.

“Sir,” you squeak out, a nervous giggle escaping your throat, “I was just—”

“We’ve already talked about this,” your manager hisses, a contrastingly serene smile on his face. “This would be your third strike.”

Despair creeps onto your face, and Kinich finds himself drawn forward, hand outstretched.

“Wait, sir, please. It was my fault. She was just—”

Your boss fixes Kinich with a sour glare, looking him up and down—his lip curls into disapproval when he sees the tattoo on his arm. 

“Don’t make excuses for your friend.”

Everyone around stares at the commotion—when Kinich glances back, Xiao and Aether are watching, wide-eyed.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t feel the same way.”

“You’ve had enough chances,” your manager starts, deceptively saccharine-sounding.

He looks between the two of you, spiteful. Kinich’s heart drops like a stone. 

“You’re officially fired.”

/

“Wow, you fucked up bad.”

The next day, Aether’s unhelpful commentary is nearly drowned out in the general noise of the quad. 

Fluffy clouds half-obscure the sun above, leaving a permeating warmth and a relaxing breeze. There’s an extensive crowd of students spread out across the grass, studying and laughing and chatting. It would be a beautiful, enjoyable day, if not for Kinich’s overwhelming guilt and the irritating sound of Aether scarfing down his lunch.

And while the blond’s remarks are unhelpful, they aren’t necessarily wrong. Recounting the whole event just makes him more aware of how idiotic he had been. Kinich rakes his fingers through his hair in frustration—he just can’t stop making mistakes when it comes to you.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” he admits, absentmindedly pulling at the blanket beneath him. “I just wanted to talk to her.”

After the incident, your manager had disappeared with you into the back, likely to work out the details of your termination. You threw him a last glance over your shoulder, eyes pouring with regret—whether it was regret that you had been interrupted, or regret that you had interacted at all, he isn’t sure.

“Oh, you talked to her alright,” Aether chirps, mouth full. Kinich’s face twists in disgust. “Talked her right out of financial stability.”

Lumine jerks an elbow into her brother’s ribs, ignoring his pained yelp. 

“What he means to say,” she starts, shooting her twin a poisonous glare, “is that you made a mistake, and you know it now. All you can do is apologize, or leave her alone if you think that would be best.”

Kinich thinks on that for a moment. Apologizing seems reasonable, but the laundry list of things he should apologize to you for seems to grow longer by the day. He’s not even sure you would hear him out for that long at this point.

Last night had given him a glimpse of hope, but your manager had ruined anything he had built up in that moment. 

And really, he should leave you alone. The guilt building and knotting in his chest is enough, enough that he knows that getting involved with you further would only lead to more heartbreak for both of you. He’s just not sure if he’s capable of letting you go again.

“I mean, no offense, but weren’t you the one who rejected her back then? And then, like…ghosted her?” Aether asks.

Lumine facepalms, thoroughly exhausted by trying to reel in her twin’s complete lack of decorum. It seems to be her full-time job at this point.

“It’s okay,” Kinich sighs, waving her off. “He’s right. I did.”

He’d been going through a lot back then, not that it had been a valid excuse. He’d been far too immature to be honest with you like you deserved. 

With a groan, Kinich shuts his laptop to fully focus on the topic at hand—he hasn’t been studying for a few minutes now anyway.

Lumine and Aether stare at him like they’re awaiting clarification. He shrugs, deflated.

“I was young and stupid. There’s no good explanation for it.”

“I don’t know if was is the right term,” Aether adds thoughtfully. “I mean, you did just get her fired, and that’s because—”

“—Aether.”

Lumine hisses through gritted teeth, and her twin chuckles, suddenly nervous.

“That’s because I’m an idiot. I’m an idiot and I’m going to stop talking now.”

Aether dives back into his chicken fried rice like a kicked puppy, pouting. Lumine glances over at Kinich, gauging the conflict written over his features. She sighs, smoothing her hair over her shoulder.

“Well, the choice is yours.”

If it were just up to him, he would chase after you and apologize endlessly. But he knows that his aren’t the only feelings in play here—if anything, yours matter more. So, he decides to leave it to fate.

He fishes into his bag with one hand, producing his wallet and shaking out a few coins. He holds one out for his friends to see.

“Heads, I apologize. Tails, I leave her alone.”

He swallows hard.

“Forever.”

He’s not sure if he truly means that quite yet, but he tells himself that he does. Steeling his resolve, he tosses the coin in the air. Aether and Lumine’s eyes grow wide as they follow its path, spinning and twisting before landing neatly on the ground.

“Kinich, do you think we’ll still know each other in five years? Ten years?”

“Of course we will.”

Kinich leans forward, peering down at the fallen Mora.

There’s a tinge of relief in his sigh.

Heads.

[hangesdarling]

Idea! Hange who finds out her rival in the scouts is actually just a massive bottom

rivals, right? — h. zoë

PAIRING. Hange Zoë x female reader SYNOPSIS. You and your rival Hange were forced to sleep in one tent for an expedition. CONTENT. 18+, MDNI, nipple sucking, fingering, oral sex, a bit slow burn WORD COUNT. 2.1k A/N. sorry anon i missed the part where they're scouts :") they're both section commanders on this one though. hope that's alright!

"I'm not sleeping with you," you groaned, the irritation sharp enough to cut through the night. 

"You make it sound weird when we're just sleeping in one tent," Hange said with an amused laugh, padding up the tent floor with a few blankets so it wouldn't be too rocky to lie down on. 

So annoying, you might be thinking. Hange always acts coy, teasing even as if your constant clash and rivalry were an amusement of some sort. Years of training and expeditions, even as scouts, Hange always managed to be linked with you. Both were labeled the smartest, both became section commanders at the same time, and both were considered respectable researchers. Your titles always one up with the other, a tight competition you never seemed to have an agreement on. 

"Ugh, why is it always with you?" You mumbled behind the notebook you're scribbling on. It was loud enough to reach Hange's ears. 

"Sorry, dear. Every tent is occupied," they said simply. Hange placed two makeshift pillows, peeking over the tent as if waiting for you to come inside. You glanced in their direction but turned away almost instantly. 

"I'll be out here for a while," you muttered, focused on scribbling on your notes. Hange looked over your shoulder in curiosity, crawling beside you. 

"Observations, huh?" Hange remarked, pushing their glasses up so their eyes could follow your scribbles. 

You blushed at being observed, quickly hiding the notes you were writing. 

"Nah, just listing why my research is more relevant than yours," you saved yourself from awkwardness, pulling a smug smile. 

Hange laughed, tilting their head almost mockingly. "That's kinda pathetic, don't you think?" 

"Heh, not when I get those two titans for my experiment," you replied, lips curling into a smirk. 

Ah, so damn stubborn, Hange thought. They shook their head lightly, still amused by how you managed to pull this stubborn behavior with them for years. You're typically kind and soft-spoken with other scouts, an authority to be respected, not feared. But Hange finds it almost ridiculous when you both act like bickering children around each other. 

"Would it kill you to share a titan with me? Besides, Erwin said we only get to capture one titan each."

"Out of all people, you should know that won't be enough," you replied. The situation you're both in just hardens your stubbornness. How could humanity thrive and gain knowledge when research is always limited? Tight budget, the shitty authority; Survey Corps never seems to run out of problems. 

"Well, we have to work with our limited resources, you know," Hange explained. "We're not supported enough in terms of this. Our supplies are insufficient. That's probably why we're sharing a tent."

"I'll do something about that," you mumbled like a steadfast promise. "Just go to sleep for now."

Hange looks at you for a while, perhaps in admiration or judgment. But in any way, they see the reflection of their resolve. 

"You should sleep too. It would be a long day tomorrow. Good night, Y/N."

Do something about it, huh? Hange slept with that curious thought, wondering what risky method would you try to pull in the next few days. 

---

Being outside the walls stopped feeling new after your tenth or fifteenth expedition. As a scout, you always have some sort of fear just from the countless tales of unsuccessful expeditions and a tower of dead bodies after one. 

 But now, you managed to expertly map through the routes outside just from memory. Where titans roam the least or the best view to watch over their behavior. 

You were sitting atop a branch of a large tree, binoculars in hand, and planning where to stage the capture. Your mind went through the manpower and equipment sent with you outside, wincing at the fact that the capture could be dangerous. Hange managed to develop a catching net some months ago, ensuring a safe capture. However, with the tight route and a precarious amount of titan, you doubt that this capture would be entirely safe. 

From another tree, Hange was watching titans, observing how slow they usually walk without bait. They are focusing. Supposedly. 

But now and then, their binoculars would travel over where you sat, the lenses perfectly capturing your distress at the current conundrum. 

No sooner, you felt another presence at the tree—Hange's familiar footsteps, careful to reach you on that wide branch. 

"You're worrying about the route, isn't it?" you heard them whisper behind you as you lowered your own binoculars. 

"Not just that," you sighed defeatedly, head on your hands. "I was thinking that two titans really wouldn't be enough for us even if we shared."

You handed Hange your notebook much to their surprise. They flipped over the pages, gaining an understanding of your concerns. Your desired experiment might be ambitious and idealistic but it would be helpful if you succeeded. But with resources so limited and countless lives to take into consideration, how would you able to do this?

Hange sat beside you, still thumbing over some pages. Even if you're turning your face away, Hange could tell you were trying hard not to tear up from the frustration and possibility of loss. This was important for you after all. They've watched you study, observe, and create all of these for over a year. 

They placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it lightly before saying, "We could do something about this, you know that. Come with me."

----

"Why do you always kick your blanket off when you sleep?" Hange asked curiously one night in the tent. 

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do! I had to tuck it beneath your feet at least three times last night," Hange argued. 

"My, don't bother with it..." You brushed it off, turning away from them to hide your face. You tried to trace back since when Hange Zoë's relationship with you became so casual, almost friendly. If your mind wanders far enough, you might consider something else happening. Affection, maybe. But you shrugged all those thoughts off, reminding yourself that the plan you agreed on was purely for science and the advancement of humanity. 

"But you're weak to coldness," Hange continued, covering you in several layers of blanket, ignoring the pout on your lips. They had a grin on their face when they said, "Don't want my research partner getting sick, do I?"

"We're not research partners," you frowned.

"Eh, why not? I just told you my whole plan and you agreed with it."

"Doesn't mean we're partners from now on."

"God, you're one stubborn lady," Hange chuckled, a sigh escaping their lips. They pulled their blankets over them, slowly dozing off. Outside, the night was filled with the gentle chirps of crickets, chorusing at one point. Even with such proximity, you could feel Hange's warmth, their gentle breathing only conveyed that they must also be awake. 

---

The next morning, you and Hange's plan set into motion, traps were located strategically in a different route. Both of you were taking full liability for what would happen in the days to come, informing the soldiers about the need to capture four titans to sufficiently conduct the research. It wasn't the safest plan, some were hesitant but many trusted your scheme since all of you share a common goal. 

You commander your unit, imparting knowledge of the best actions to take. But for the remaining hours, your eyes remained on your notebook, pretending to check details to reach the optimum result. However, Hange knew you had an entirely different reason. Maybe to interact less with them, afraid they would bring up how you two ended up tangled in each other's arms last night.

---

"I'm just letting you know that won't happen again," you said flatly, eyes boring upwards through the tent as you lay down. 

Hange turned their head to you, their lips forming into a subtle smirk once more. "What is?"

"Um, last night..." you said in a low voice. 

"Ah, you mean when you're hugging me so tightly?" Hange asked smugly. 

You bit your lip, trying to save yourself from this. "I was asleep. Not responsible for my actions, but forgive me for disturbing your sleep."

Much to your surprise, Hange hovered over you, their deep brown eyes glinting almost knowingly against the dark space inside. The atmosphere thickened, your heart ramming louder than the sounds of night. 

"No need to apologize for anything, sweetheart," they whispered, their eyes following your lips the way your eyes do for them. In that heated moment, all that you've both held in flooded out like a dam breaking and gushing to spill over. Hange placed a firm hand on your shoulder, keeping you pinned on the blankets as their lips met yours. It was a firm kiss, your lips nearly melting into each other's. Your hands traveled on Hange's hair where you tug and pull them closer. Hange sat you up in their lap, gaining better access of your neck and chest. Their hands snaked under your clothes as they ask for permission to go further each time to which you only nod. 

"If you want to have me so bad, you shouldn't have spent years being annoying," you muttered into the kiss. 

"Says the one who wouldn't let go of me last night," Hange smirked, a thumb circling your clothed breasts. "Besides, you should've picked up on it early on. You're so smart after all."

"You know, you look more attractive when you shut up," you muttered as you fell on top of Hange. Their flushed face look at you expectantly, expecting you would dominate this whole ordeal. After all, they saw you in that dominant, commanding light after years of leadership. 

But Hange noticed how flustered you were just from being on top of them. Your thighs kept straddled on their lap, your hands resting on their shoulder, not knowing where to hold on. Hange smirked, taking it as a sign to flip you over once more. Their breath was warm against your ear as they whispered, "It's okay, Y/N. Let me do it for you."

Hange locked your lips in a kiss once more, bundling your shirt on your chest. Their lips slithered from your lips down to your throat, reaching the trail between your breasts. They kept one firm hand on your wrist as their tongue gently circled one of your nipples, sucking their lips on the hardened bud.

Hange covered your mouth before you let out high-pitched noises from the sensation. 

"Shhhh... You don't want your subordinates to hear you, right?" They smiled against the darkness. 

The night was slow and heated as you let Hange do wonders with their mouth and fingers, always managing to draw out a soundless moan from you. Your lips could only part, your hands clenching around their body. They were amused to see you follow along and nod with their wishes, so compliant with their charm.

Hange had the button of your blouse open, your breasts spilling out into their face and the warm flesh of your stomach open for their wet kisses. 

"You know," Hange began, drawing their fingers in and out of you at a teasingly, slow pace. "I didn't expect this much submission from you."

"Shut up, Hange..." you breathed out, a hand over your eyes as you were beginning to write against their fingers. Hange held down your hip, tugging your pants a bit more so they could have more access to you.

"As you wish, m'lady," Hange placed a kiss on your clit before gently lapping up the warm wetness gathering on your slit.

Hange kept on until the faint light of dawn slitted through your tent. You forgot just how much stamina they had to draw one orgasm after another from you. They only stopped when you've whined and writhed enough under them, pleading for a break. Hange fixed up your clothes, smoothed out your hair, and drew the blanket over you again as if nothing happened. Their wet lips kissed you once more as they said, "You still have a few hours to sleep. Sleep tight, sweetheart."

---

The capture will take place during the afternoon. The equipment was set, and the soldiers were preparing their ODM gear for however long the capture may last. 

The scouts passed by, even some of your friends, noticing the slight shift of the atmosphere but couldn't quite put it into words. Maybe this time their section commanders weren't bickering as usual. They went with that fresh start in high spirits,  brushing off their suspicions whenever they saw Hange place an arm around your waist or whisper something to make you laugh or blush. Your unit didn't think much of it, even attributing it as a minor hallucination or a ripple in the universe. There's no way their section commanders are getting affectionate.

After all, you're rivals, right?

likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated, sweethearts <3

[fic-heaven]

Ghost x witty reader

Good luck's kiss

.

Running through the hall heaving like a dog earned you a few confused looks from the passerbys, but the fact that your lieutenant was in the armory about to leave for a month to a mission you were not quite informed of, made you skip breakfast to at the very least, say goodbye. Because obviously that's what friends do... Not crazy fucks with a big-ass crush.

"Hey! Hey!!" You call out to Ghost who by the looks of it, is not happy at all while rearranging his bag near the exit from where you just busted in.

"Don't got time to humour ya, sarge. We are deploying in a few minutes." The tall Brit growls rushing to collect his things, the heavy bag he previously had on the floor was now being launched to his shoulder as Simon got ready to leave the room.

"Weren't ya leaving in like... Half a week?" You breathlessly said getting on his way.

"Yeah well, change of plans. That's our job, sweetheart."

You crossed your arms with a patient look and that seemed to tick him off.

"You weren't planning to simply leave without saying goodbye, right? That's not something my favorite lieutenant would do."

He busied himself checking his gear for the last time on the crusty, broken mirror near next to you that someone had forgotten to throw away as an excuse to spend a few minutes listening to you.

"What would ya have me do? I ain' got no time to fuck around kissing everyone g'bye."

"Do you need a good luck's kiss, LT?"

That shocked Ghost, but he was obviously not going to openly show it, he knew if he was too obvious he wouldn't hear the end of it with all your teasing, so he stood there staring blankly at your reflection next to him in utter silence and you, always so straight forward, weren't one to shy away from this even if it was only a joke.

You moved the paralyzed lieutenant by the shoulders to face you so you could lean in, to your surprise he crouched a bit to your level when he picked up on what you were about to do, your hand went to his jaw tilting his head a bit to the side with his permission, then you planted your lips to the cold surface of his masked cheek. Ghost's eyes remained open, never blinking in a seemingly bored expression while you smiled in amusement at your lieutenant until you spotted the clock hanging from the wall behind him and realization hit you.

"Y'gotta go, what are ya waiting for? A second kiss?"

That seemed to pull him out of his hidden stupor, he blinked twice, leaned back and stretched his neck. "Thanks for the offer. That wasn't awkward at all..."

"Why! I bet you are blushing under there~"

"On your dreams, I only indulge in your stupidity-"

"Oh, for bonding I bet."

"Not really, it's only for my sole amusement."

"My goodness, Riley. You are cold..."

Ghost was about to leave the armory with his hand ready to open the door until he heard this, he turned to you, took a few rushed steps closer his right hand shooting to grab your nape and pressed the teeth of his mask to your forehead simulating a kiss. It was your turn to look openly dumbfounded. Ghost took a peek your way, said his quick goodbyes and left.

He'll never acknowledge the loud dreamy sigh that scaped his mouth when his lungs deflated once he got to the humvee.

Simon could die on this mission and feel a type of peace only belonging to a man who has seen and done everything on his list. Although next time, if everything goes right and he gets back to you, he hopes you'll give him another kiss but this time with no mask.

[sxcret-garden]

Yunho ღ NSFW Alphabet [M]

ღ Ateez - NSFW Alphabets ღ Ateez Yunho x gn!reader (some parts might work better with fem-bodied!reader) ღ words: ~3.5k ღ genre: smut ღ warnings: none

A = Aftercare (what he’s like after sex)

He’s soso sweet :( oftentimes he already thought of preparing the essentials beforehand - some water, towels, some snacks,... and he won’t hesitate to provide you with anything else you might want or need after having sex. Takes especially good care of you if you’ve been going at it for a long time and/or if he got a little rough with you. He enjoys staying up with you afterwards, holding you close while just talking about literally anything, and he always wants to know whether you enjoyed yourself, if there’s anything you want him to do differently next time, and so on.

B = Body part (his favorite body part of his partner)

Your waist. He just loves the shape of it, loves tracing his fingertips along your sides, and though he’s trying not to make it obvious at first, it really just is obvious. Blushes a little when you ask him why he likes it so much and just tells you it’s pretty before pressing a kiss to your lips. Even when he’s looking at you from afar he can’t help but let his eyes trace your shape over and over again, and when he’s finally alone with you, you will catch him marveling at your beauty, wishing he could spend all day mapping out your shapes with his lips and worshipping your body.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum)

Your pleasure is his top priority when having sex with you, so it’s likely you’re gonna cum more often than him overall. And of course he eventually wants to chase his own high as well, but he just can’t stop searching for all the different ways in which he can get you off because he gets so addicted to the way your body reacts to him. His favourite is having you cum around his fingers, showering you with praises as if he got drunk on the feeling of your contracting around his digits. As for him, he loves it when you simply let him cum into your fist as you’re giving him a handjob. Idk, something about seeing his cum dripping down your fingers just really does it for him.

D = Dirty secret (a dirty secret or secret desire of his)

That time he caught you getting off by yourself and he just couldn’t bring himself to walk away. He didn’t even see anything, he just walked into his apartment, not knowing you had already come home, and he didn’t seem to be the only one unaware of the other’s presence. Because even when he deliberately closed the door loudly, your moans didn’t stop. And so he stood there, frozen up, and feeling himself being very much affected by what’s unfolding in the other room. And he just can’t stop himself from getting painfully turned on by the sounds falling from your lips as you’re bringing yourself closer and closer to your high.

He’ll keep this a secret from you for a very long time, because he knows he should’ve just walked back out and returned a bit later instead of listening in on you. But eventually he’ll tell you about it, once you’ve been dating for long enough to be sure you wouldn’t feel awkward about this anymore.

E = Experience (how experienced is he?)

Average I’d say? He’s had sexual partners before, but not that many. He doesn’t seem like the type to jump from relationship to relationship, and I also think one-night-stands are more of an occasional thing for him, but overall I think he has at least some experience!

F = Favorite position 

Depends on what mood he’s in, but usually a kind of position where he can observe you well. An all time favourite of his has got to be you having your back against his chest, while you’re standing or sitting in front of a mirror. He wants to see all your reactions and watches your reflection with great interest as he touches you. Plus, there’s just something very hot to him about also seeing himself taking you from behind in a mirror… When he’s frustrated or being rough with you however, he’ll prefer to bend you over the nearest surface and to have his way with you like that.

G = Goofy (is he more serious in the moment? is he humorous?)

There’s definitely gonna be the occasional giggle when you’re sleeping with him. He’s super chill about embarrassing situations, and will always want to convey to you that everything’s okay - sometimes you’re just gonna be clumsy about something and he actually finds that endearing more than anything. But even then, especially when you’re having very sweet sex, he will make you laugh time and time again to keep a lighthearted mood. However, if you’re being more rough and having kinky sex he’ll be more on the serious side, because he wants to make sure everything that’s happening is alright with you, and that you’re feeling good at all times!

H = Headspace (how much does he think about it/you during the day? how elaborate are his fantasies?)

I think he actually doesn’t think about sex super often? But when he does it’s usually deliberate. He’s very good at keeping his self control in case a sexual thought does pop up in his mind every now and then at an inappropriate time, so it’s also very hard to get him riled up if you’re trying to tease him in public for example. However, when he’s in the comfort of his own home he will let his thoughts wander from time to time, indulging in his own fantasies (whether it’s about a specific person or just anyone in general) and he will usually end up getting off to his own thoughts in the end.

I = Intimacy (how passionate or romantic is he?)

I think he’s both very passionate and very romantic deep inside, though the passion-side doesn’t always show very obviously. He’s responsible and more concerned about your pleasure than his own most of all, so even when you can undeniably see the passion burning in his gaze, he’ll stay in control most of the time and not let it take over - especially if you’re having rough sex. Though that might just make the times when his passion and need for you break through that much hotter… As for his romantic side… that will show most if not all of the time, he just can’t help it. Whether it’s in the way he communicates with you, always making sure you’re on the same page at all times, or in the way he gazes at you lovingly whenever he has the chance, or how he whispers sweet nothings to you throughout. If one thing’s for sure then it’s that this guy will make you feel loved at all times! He might get a little shy about classic romantic acts, you know, like putting on some background music to get in the mood, or candles or rose petals scattered all over the bed, but if you mention to him that you’re into that kind of stuff he’ll definitely one day surprise you with it!

J = Jack off (how does he masturbate and how often?)

I don’t think he gets off all that often? Though he seems like the type to use it to let off some steam at the end of the day, but then it’s really just a quick orgasm and nothing more. As I mentioned above, he will sometimes let his mind wander, and if he’s caught up in his fantasies he might just end up taking more time with pleasuring himself sometimes. But I think that especially when he has a partner, he’d choose having sex with them over masturbating any day.

K = Kink (one of his kinks)

Gonna go with a choking kink here because… if Yunho then hands, and hands around throat just makes him soso horny even when he’s just thinking about it. He occasionally likes having your hands around his throat too, whether you’re just resting them there or actually applying some pressure, but he definitely prefers it the other way around. So if you’re into that too, he will do it quite often. Just the image of his big hands wrapped around your throat is so pretty to him, and he’ll be very responsible about the power that gives him over you. Loves having you watch yourself in the mirror as he’s getting you off with one hand, the other hand around your throat keeping you in place and forcing you to watch as he whispers dirty praises in your ear, but he also loves simply having you underneath him in missionary, fucking into you as he applies pressure to your throat, watching as you’re slowly losing your mind.

L = Location (favorite places to do it)

The comfort of his or your home is definitely by far the nr 1 for him. He’s not a public sex type of guy at all, like the most public he’s willing to go is in the car usually. If you like the thrill of it, he’ll sometimes be willing to get you off in a semi-public space, but in the end he’d really rather be somewhere the both of you can get comfortable and won’t have to worry about being caught or being too loud, etc. However, that doesn’t mean y’all always have to go at it in the bedroom. If you’re both very horny he’ll take any surface available - the couch, the dinner table, the kitchen counter, even the floor. There’s actually something very enticing to him about taking you on the dining table and making you moan his name where he knows friends or family will sit and have a meal with you on another day, without even so much as suspecting what he’s done to you in that very same place.

M = Motivation (what turns him on, gets him going)

Praise! I think praise has got to be his biggest motivator. Hums at you when you tell him how good he’s making you feel and then somehow manages to make you feel even better. This guy could spend all day just getting you off in various ways, fuelled by nothing but the way you praise him, and how he can feel your body reacting to his touch. Even the subtle things, like you melting into his touch or leaning into his hand at the small of your back will make him go crazy about you. And the tension is undeniable when he’s coming closer and closer, not yet giving you that kiss you’re craving or his sweet touch you’ve been longing for all day - it’s his way of riling you up and making you need him, and once he succeeds in making you almost beg for him he’ll be all over you in no time.

And even when the tables are turned, and you’re the one taking care of him, every praise falling from your lips will sound like heaven to him. He WILL blush as you keep praising him while bringing him closer to the edge, and the sounds you can get out of him as you continue sweet-talking him towards his orgasm will be so sinful and perfect, and yet not something he’d ever let you hear otherwise.

N = No (something he wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Receiving pain can be a big turn-off for him. Unless done right, he’s just not into it, and actually finds it kind of awkward? It just doesn’t feel right to him most of the time, and will ruin the mood so fast. However, in certain situations, when he’s about to cum, that definitely changes, and a slightly painful sensation like you pulling his hair a bit roughly or digging your fingernails into his skin might serve to enhance his pleasure!

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He’s pretty decent at giving oral I’d say. And though his favourite way of getting you off is simply using his hands, he’s more than willing to give you head rather often as well. There’s just something so intimate and sexy about the way his eyes will be glued to your face the whole time, checking for even the slightest reaction to his touches. This helps him figure out what you like and what drives you crazy very quickly, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t put that knowledge to good use. Loves the taste of you and how it feels when you cum into his mouth. 

The other way around he’d never say no to receiving oral from you, and prefers it when he can just lean back and enjoy the ride. Won’t really do much except telling you how well you’re doing, until he’s coming really close or if you’re edging him. Then he’ll eventually reach the point where he can’t take it anymore and he’ll buck his hips up into your mouth or grab your hair (if possible) to keep you in place and fuck your mouth until he reaches his high.

P = Pace (is he fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Yunho is naturally more on the sensual side, with everything. Whether he’s giving you just his fingers, head, or his dick. But the thing with him is also that he’s pretty versatile and is willing to adapt to his partner’s likes quite a lot. So if you’re into a fast and rough pace, he’ll give you exactly what you want, and he’ll definitely end up enjoying it too! Though if it were entirely up to him, he usually prefers going slow and taking his time worshipping your body and mapping out all your favourite places to be touched. Only when he’s very desperate or his very dominant side comes out he’ll become rougher, but even then he tends to still be slow, to savour every single moment, every sound coming out of your mouth and every sensation flowing through your bodies.

Q = Quickie (his opinions on quickies?)

He’s the type who would rather take his time with his partner usually!! However, at certain times a quickie is an appreciated change of pace so to say. If having sex with him normally is all about your pleasure, then a quickie is usually more about him, and so he tends to get a bit rough during them (unless you tell him you don’t like that of course). He just needs you right here and right now, and if you’ve been out or one of you haven’t been home, there’s a chance the frustration has been boiling deep inside for a while, and now that he finally has you to himself, all of that will come bursting out of him at once. You can tell how much he needs you by the way he kisses you impatiently and how he manhandles you into the exact position he wants you in. It’s not rare for him to cum quickly in a situation like this, and not leave enough time for you to reach your high as well. So if the situation allows for it, he’ll slow down once he’s caught his breath and make sure you get your fair share of pleasure as well. But then it’s not really a quickie anymore so alksdöfjs yeah, he really is the type to want to indulge properly after all.

R = Risk (does he like to experiment or take risks?)

He’s not a risk-taker at all. That said, he prefers having sex when it’s guaranteed there’s no risk of getting caught in the act (it kinda ruins the mood for him ngl). However, I do think he loves the sight of watching his cum dripping out of you, so if it’s about not using a condom he’s down for it, so long as you’re using some other form of protection instead.

S = Stamina (how long does he last?)

Has A LOT of stamina. He doesn’t really need a long recovery period until he can go again after cumming once, but even then he knows more than enough things to do in between - whether that’s making out with you or going straight to getting you off again. I think he can last several rounds, and he knows just what to do to make sure he’ll have the energy to keep going for as long as possible.

T = Toys (does he own toys? does he use them? on a partner or himself?)

I do think he’s a fan of toys! Might have one or two for himself, but definitely has a few to use with a partner! Loves getting them out for in between rounds, so he can continue pleasing you while he rests. Toys to him are mostly about enhancing your pleasure, so he’ll pick them accordingly and discuss with you what you want him to use on you. He likes watching your reaction to them, and tbh he also enjoys that they allow for him to have a lot of control over you while being able to give you multiple orgasms once you’ve figured out what works best for you.

U = Unfair (how much he likes to tease)

Yunho isn’t much of a teaser originally, it’s really not something that needs to be a part of sex for him. He’s more of a praise kinda guy, but if you like being teased he’s up for trying! And seeing the reactions he can get out of you with it, it’ll quickly become something you do often. Vice versa, it can go two ways. If you’ve established a dynamic where he takes on a very dominant role he’ll definitely make you regret teasing him by teasing you back harder and maybe even going as far as not to let you cum until you’ve begged for it. However, if there’s no such dynamic between you two he’ll probably be super flustered if you tease him. Especially if your teasing is verbal while you’re going at it, he’ll be blushing so hard and won’t know how to respond cjxnxnxn

V = Volume (how loud or vocal is he? what does he sound like?)

He isn’t really loud. He definitely talks a lot - ongoing communication while you’re having sex is very important to him, plus he finds it hot too. Some dirty talk certainly gets him going! Otherwise he’s pretty quiet, but you will hear him moan as he gets closer, and then sometimes he’s just gonna let out the most unholy sounds you didn’t think he’d be capable of producing…

W = Wild card (a random headcanon)

Your mind clouded by pleasure and your knees weakening, you’ve melted fully into Yunho’s touch. He has his arm around your waist, and if it wasn’t for the fact that you’re coming close to your orgasm you might’ve been embarrassed about your fucked out expression you find in the mirror right in front of you. Yunho has his face buried in your neck, kissing and nipping at the skin there, his slender fingers ghosting just above your core as he mutters a praise.

“So pretty for me…” he breathes and you arch your back just a little more, immediately feeling him hitting that sweet spot inside you.

“Y-yun… ‘m close…” is all you can whine, and you hear him hissing a curse below your ear. 

“Fuck, me too,” he growls through gritted teeth, all while never taking his eyes off the mirror. “Wanna see your pretty face when you cum.” You let out yet another desperate whine at his words, and when his fingers come in contact with your core for some extra stimulation, you know you won’t last another ten seconds. 

“C-coming… Yun… I’m-” Your high crashes down on you, and you feel yourself shaking violently in his hold as he lets out a strained groan and releases inside you, muttering once again how pretty you look in the mirror.

X = (X) as a mark (does he like marking you/being marked? where?)

While he doesn’t want any marks on his or your body to be visible when you’re wearing clothes, he does quite enjoy the sensation of getting marked. You marking him actually activates his possessive side, and is one of the ways to make sure he’ll get rough with you afterwards. Might mark you back, though he prefers doing it with his fingernails dragged across your skin than giving you a hickey. As mentioned before, he’s overall not the biggest fan of being made to feel pain during sex, but if you’re both very close and you end up biting or scratching him in the heat of the moment, that will very much add some more pleasure for him!

Y = Yearning (how high is his sex drive?)

Somewhere in the middle I’d say? Not suuuper high, though his sex drive definitely increases when he has a partner, especially when you haven’t been together for long. He’s not the type to want sex everyday - he’d much rather do it only a few times a week, on days where you can really take your time and enjoy yourselves. But don’t let yourself be fooled, once he does get horny he gets reaaaaally into it!

Z = Zzz (how quickly he falls asleep afterwards)

As I already mentioned, he’s really big on aftercare, so most often he will stay up with you for another while after having sex. In general I don’t think he’s that easily tired out, so won’t be the type to blackout right away.

[11cupids-tarot11]

What's going on right now? Need Clarity? A message from Spirit!

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Pile 1- 9 of Pentacles, 9 of Wands, Princess of Pentacles, 3 of Cups, 8 of Cups, 9 of Swords, The Hermit, Ace of Cups, King of Cups, Ace of Wands, 2 of Cups, extra card- Prince of Pentacles.

Bottom of the deck- The Lovers

Hi my pile 1!

Today I feel like Spirit really wants to talk about you and your work. I heard something about planting roots, could be a literal 9-5 job we're talking about or even a relationship for some of you (I'm picking up on a masculine here), but I'm feeling like it might not be the way you want to to be right now, you're not seeing the results of all of your hard work but the Nine of Pentacles talks about having to climb that last mountain before you can reach the top and rest. This energy here is expressing though we may be so tired and want to give up it's very important you look back and see how far you've come in any given situation, how much you've progressed with maybe in a job, or something that really matters to you like finishing a book or even how much progress you've made in a relationship as well. (My phone buzzed as confirmation, I feel like there's a little bit about love in this reading which is crazy because I'm trying so hard to be diverse and not talk about romance so much but other forms of love too lol). Overall I'm getting don't give up, I know it's a struggle but sometimes it's good to sit back, reflect and remember our "Why". We just need that extra push of motivation, whatever motivates you, even if it's taking a small break before you decide to get back at it again, anything but quit! An example I could use is when I'm working on my Digital Art for a good hour and decide I still don't like how my drawing looks, I get tired but deep down want to finish it soo bad, so instead of giving up I take a break, let my fingers breathe and get a snack before going back at it again, sometimes it's okay to not break your back trying to finish projects no one's perfect.

So I feel like Spirit also wants to warn us of becoming too materialistic, it's clear this message is for someone who's worked hard to get to where they are now, but I feel like you haven't had the time to celebrate that because you're too focused on moving on to the next thing so quickly, we should appreciate and honor and celebrate all that we've done for ourselves even if you haven't reached the highest goal you've set, go out and celebrate with people you love! You deserve it!

So I feel energy like someone putting so much on themselves, I feel like you make yourself your main concern? If that makes sense? Like someone who gets frustrated at themselves because they quit something, someone here overworks their mind way too much, to a dangerous point. You're pushing your body to work so much because of a certain goal and I see here you see yourself as the problem. You are the very thing that crafts your reality but you can also break it as well. You know that saying less is more? I just heard it in my head, like if you stopped focusing so hard on this and live a little you might manifest it better not obsessing over it so much.

I'm picking up on two different messages, one is for someone who hardly has fun, I think the main message for you to overcome some things is to reach out more to people you love, spend more quality time with them! Have fun, go out and just go for a walk or sit in the park! Do something that doesn't feel like a job, you know? For others, I'm getting you might be more introverted, Spirit is encouraging you to branch out more, maybe work is something that you've just always known and been comfortable, but Spirit is encouraging you to go make some friends, step out of your comfort zone a little! Sometimes someone's companionship is all you need and you would've even realize it because if you're like me and hardly care for socializing it's something you can definitely live without, can't miss something you've never had right? Lol.

I feel some anxiety, negative thoughts and bad coping methods that are no longer serving you, but I feel like this anxiety is just coming from being scared, scared of the unknown especially. This energy doesn't serve you, focus on healing this and pushing this energy out of our consciousness, don't expect it, normalize it or embrace it.

I think as time goes on you could slip into a state of wanting to be alone a lot, I think this is a warning if you continue on you'll always be stuck in that energy. I think the hermit also reminds us to consider ourselves better, present and future, encourages to get to know yourself as well, take time to really understand and appreciate yourself.

I think you're a kind person, I'm seeing here you're represented by the Ace of Cups as well as how you see yourself, which means there is self love there, even if you don't see it or feel it's not impossible! Take it day by day, step by step, whatever that looks like for you! You have lots of joy and sunshine 🌞 maybe you're someone who likes to keep a positive appearance and rarely ever show your real emotions especially if they're negative.

I keep picking up on small messages of someone waiting for a specific love interest or maybe just waiting for your love life to get juicy in general.

I feel like someone's hoping for a connection, there's lots of masculine energy here. This is a special message so if you've been hoping for a specific person Spirit knows! I can't get much but maybe that's because it's not supposed to be a love reading, but I did get that message, Spirit hears you. Maybe this masculine is also a person some of you know, like they're in your life already and they have a heavy impact on you. I'm seeing for some of you it doesn't have to be romantic, could be a father figure for those of you wishing to get closer with your father's!

In conclusion, I don't want to say you'll never find a solution to your problems, but I will say life will always be throwing tough situations at us, at any given time, I think the highlighted message here would be that our mindset is the key here, you can't change your situation maybe but you can decide how you handle them. A strong mindset is always important, a clear and positive one. It's not an answer, no, but it's more like encouragement. I feel like Spirit wants to remind you as long as you have you, you'll never really be stuck or lost, you have the power to see the greater good of any situation or the power to visualize and manifest a life or outcome of a situation you want!

Hope you like this reading! Love you! <3

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Pile 2- The Hermit, Judgment, Eight of Pentacles, Four of Cups, The Tower, The Star, Three of Swords, Nine of Cups, Nine of Wands, The hanged man and The World.

Back of deck: Queen of Cups

So the Hermit is once the fool, right? I feel this card is drawn today to point out that you need to focus on something with yourself. You're being pushed to learn more about yourself maybe, I'm getting this card also signifies someone who mostly spends their time alone, this could be because you're being drawn to focus more on yourself and this could also serve as a warning for some that you could be surrounding yourself with too many energies. Either way this card does signify a change does need to happen. A path needs to be taken. Something needs to be done, let's see what it is!

So currently it's healing, I'm seeing it's something heavy on your mind and heart. Well, with the Justice I hear that you have the option to heal right now, you maybe have been wondering what does healing really mean? and I'm hearing that the Angels Gabriel maybe are present with this card and that the path to healing is about to basically open up for you to take. I want to go into great detail about what I mean but can't find the best words, my book describes it like 'an opportunity to scrape off any remaining bits of mud clinging to your boots'.

I feel like someone here is very focused on healing for the greater good, you have a desire, strong will and determined just to do better for you and with the Eight of Pentacles it serves as kind of a confirmation that your guides do see and hear your efforts. Some of us could even be manifesting greater things, better days and your guides definitely do hear you! Makes me feel like they're hinting that your wish will be granted soon, the judgment card does often hint at justice! ;)

I know it might be confusing or some of you are probably like "what?" But I'm hearing that you'll just get random downloads and be like "oh yeah, duh! I should totally try doing that." A specific message for a few of you lol.

So the four of cups makes me feel like your guides are just pointing out more the need to kind of take a break away from everything and everyone. Maybe you're around people who don't have your best intentions or don't really serve you or your healing journey and spirit warns to watch who we keep around, it might be time to cut some people off. Some of you might be getting invited out, it's okay to reject them and let them down easy, take time for you, it's okay to not be bothered and be in the comfort of just yourself! <33

Right now I feel like you're carrying a lot of tension, anxiety and there's a call to release all of that, a change, I feel like being around people might be causing this anxiety because this is supposed to represent your external energy and you got the tower card, but so far all I'm getting is isolation is good for you, which is making me think there might just be a specific person causing this anxiety, if they make you feel bad they're not worth having around, i had to learn that the hard way whoever needs to hear this 😭 🩷

So we're letting go of burdens, anything that's holding us back, we're getting into really good energy! I love this pile honestly lol. You got the hope card! While all of this is happening, you're going to be passing through really heavy energy I bet, it might feel like you got hit by a bus even but your guides want you to remain hopeful! Try to stay as optimistic and positive as you can be, showing gratitude can also help right now! But good job! You're looking at every corner of your shadow self, you're doing a really good job too!

Okay, see! The three of swords is heavy energy but it does signify ✨ NEW 😍 and BETTER 😩 things for us! If you keep going this road, you're going to find something that really brings you contentment and life will feel good again for you! You're getting justice baby!!! I'M TRYING TO GET YOU HYPED BECAUSE YOUR GUIDES ARE PROMISING EVERYTHING YOU'VE WISHED FOR!! 😍😍 Lol whatever that might look like for you, like lately I've really been wishing for a new apartment, so when spirit says my wishes are about to be granted I'd get real excited because that means I'm gonna find a way to get that new apartment soon! Lol.

So right now I feel like you know you're able to manifest these good things all on your own. I feel like a few of you are like me and it maybe took you this long journey to get where you are now, maybe mentally or also in a physical matter, either way you look back and see how far you've come, you still want so much more and maybe you kinda pick on yourself when you realize that but your working on being content and grateful and moving forward now that you really understand how to now!

So I'm hearing that you might have some fears about never seeing progress, or maybe you're grinding very hard I'm talking day and night and you haven't seen the results you want, but you'll get there! I'm hearing the only way you don't is if you give up on yourself. As long as you have the consistency, motivation and power to keep showing up you will definitely see the results you want!

You got the world card as your outcome! This is a possible outcome, the world represents completion usually all things of a happy ending basically! Which means this is how your outcome will be! You do big work and receive big rewards from the universe! You're going to be sooo happy, you're on your way to your biggest achievement yet I feel! Congratulations! 🤭😍

I also heard a message about someone needing to further develop their spiritual growth!!

Hope you enjoyed!! 🩷 Love you sweetie piez

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Pile 3- Eight of Cups, Temperance, Three of Cups, Seven of Cups, Princess of Wands, Ace of Cups, King of Swords, The Emperor, Princess of Cups, Ace of Swords, Two of Cups.

Hii! ☺️ So there's a message for you in pile 2! Specific for some of you, maybe if you felt drawn to more than one pile I highly recommend checking it out because I could not stop channeling that!

Let's get into your reading now!

So you're currently in an era of change right now, moving away from toxic energies, environments, mindsets and/or situations, I'm hearing it's because you're embarking on something new and you want to have a fresh clean state basically. Good for you! I totally resonate with that, it's a very good example of bringing home a new puppy even though you already have a dog, you still buy the new dog it's own toys and personal items because you can't just take the old dog's things and give it away, you have to start all over again and buy fresh items, you know? Weird example but this is the best I could explain it 🤣 I don't even have a dog so bare with me lol.

So I see that you're currently questioning how to go about this, and I get the feel that the Temperance card is telling us that we have that answer within. I think Spirit really wants to remind you to listen to your inner child as well, not only that but all parts because it's very important, even our shadow selves. So I feel like that's something you're going to be going through, mental clarity. This energy is a lot like pile 2! There's an overlapping message! Pretty soon you'll be gaining insight, like you'll be receiving downloads and messages from your team and everything will just "click" for you, yk? 😭 Lots of magical energy in all of the piles today it's crazy. I think you're also going to be learning how to balance yourself out, you're going to Intuitively just know because you've done the work searching every part of yourself!

So I see some tension and desire around three of cups, maybe someone here could be wishing for healthier connections, maybe there's some fear of being alone even and it's triggering some healing to be done around that area.

So like I said earlier, you're going to be receiving some intuitive messages that will bring you lots of clarity which is confirmation with the Seven of Cups, it'll just come to you, you might receive an important dream soon! So just keep on keeping on lmao basically stay true to your goals and keep forward on your path!

Okay okay I see you working on moving into your Princess of Wands energy! So the Princess part is like someone who's still learning, so you're going to be in an energy that you're in control of! I feel like you're already represented by the Princess of Wands energy and you're just working on being Queen now! You're going to learn how to utilize your personal energy, creativity and sexual power. Okay so you're going to need this new energy for the path you're going down, you're going to shine through it, literally you're a star whoever you are lmao other people see your energy too, you're someone people look up to! You're embarking on a new journey, I feel like I keep repeating myself a lot but even in my tarot book it says the exact same thing in the card description as the messages I'm channeling from Spirit 🤣 I've gotta start a YouTube so I can show you guys more! Or would you guys prefer if I just included pictures? I don't for aesthetic purposes but let me know guys!

Anyways, back to YOU lol,

So I see you wishing for lots of abundance like love maybe, doesn't have to be very deep and serious like marriage but I feel like a few of you want a baby and someone that loves you and it's a dream of yours, but you're probably putting that dream to the side right now to work on yourself which is good! That way when you are ready to receive you'll know exactly what to do with your gifts, treat them nicely lol! I do see a promising future for you where you receive all of that plus the self love from yourself which will already come first before anything, I think it's really beautiful energy I really like this pile 😭 I love you whoever you are, you feel so sweet!

OOO I see a King of Swords in someone's future? I feel like this is a romantic for a few of you because you also have the Two of Cups as your ending card which represents union to me. My book describes this person as fascinating, and talkative, they'll be very good at providing you emotionally and physically wise! I feel like after all of this work you're finally getting the connection with someone you've been waiting for!

Gender doesn't matter here, but you might see yourself as the Emperor, even if you struggle to, the outside world does too! You're a born leader, you're strong and intelligent enough to LEAD the team! People respect you I feel like, you're very hardworking, you like to set goals, some people might call you a nerd lol 🤓. I feel like in school you were the one who took control in group projects, you're very outspoken and an outgoing person, people love to be around you!

You might not have had many relationships, I'm hearing you might be kind of scared of love and have some hope and fears around it, you'll be discovering your own love language I hear ☺️ how precious omg.

So someone around you with the Ace of Swords suggests that someone you've already had your eye on someone for a while, a few of you might even be in the talking stages still! Either way you might already know who you're coming into union with 🤣 Crazy! For others of you, you will be meeting this person soon! A complete stranger you'll just bump into within divine timing on the weirdest day of your life!

So the Two of Cups is your outcome! With the two of cups it means you'll get the perfect person you've been waiting for! Which is what you've been wishing for, right? (Me too😭) I'm seeing that picturing your perfect person will help manifest them! Some of you could be dating after heartbreak as well I'm picking up on, for those of you who are single you'll be glowing! People will notice and compliment you a lot more. You're just ready to receive while being in your Queen energy! Real hot girl shit 😍 lol I love that omg.

Lots of water energy, someone could be a water sign, Pisces, Scorpio or Cancer or have those placements heavily in ur chart. Someone here could like the color blue or purple or those colors might be significant for you. The number 4 might also be significant. Someone could wear red a lot.

I hope you enjoyed this reading! Love youuu!!!

[slttygeto]

༉‧₊˚. PLAYLIST

༉‧₊˚. episode 06: temptation's tangle

preview: ". . . “What’s the occasion?” “Being hungry?” You glare at his sarcastic comment and Hanma shrugs his shoulders with an amused grin. “What? You don’t trust me?” “Exactly, I don’t.” “Well just to remind you, we agreed to be fuck buddies so–”

“For fuck’s sake–” . ."

content warning: suggestive content, abandonment issues, hanma is a d!ck but what's new.

word count: 5,4k

➜ ┊: @softshuji @mitsuwuyaa @kariatenoh @reiners-milkbiddies @citrusteaa @bejeweled-night-33

➜ MASTERLIST

➜ note: yet another chapter woohoo!! this one's a bit exciting for me because we get to see new characters appearing in the reader's life. and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!!

༉‧₊˚. reblog + comment!

Saturdays were for resets. You didn’t like to go out that much during the weekends, so it was a hassle to reject your co-worker’s offer to go out for drinks the night after a long week of exhausting and intense work. You would much rather stay inside, go over your to-do list and look around your place to see which area needed the most cleaning. The kitchen was definitely a mess, but your room? Good lord. Your room looked as though a hurricane had passed and devoured it before spitting it out.

No matter how much you tried to be organized, you always found yourself with a mess on the floor, half of your makeup on your vanity and the other half in the bathroom along with a bunch of shoes lined up next to your entrance. You puff out some air as you stand in the middle of your room.

“I really need to get my shit together.” Have you said these words before? Absolutely. 

Will you probably say them again in two weeks? Oh, of course. 

But right now, you need a distraction from what happened two days ago–something that quiets down the voice that keeps nagging you to grab your phone and check if he sent a message, if something had changed. You recognized that you were being a walking contradiction–between promising yourself to be mad at him and loathing him only a week ago, to suddenly wishing he was in your bedroom, pinning you to your mattress and drilling his cock into you–yeah, you were a mess. 

It’s not like you didn’t have a vibrator, or hands! Your hands did an amazing job at fulfilling your needs, you knew where to touch yourself, how to stroke your pussy in a way that had your back arching and your eyes rolling to the back of your head. A sigh would then escape your lips, a needy one because nothing felt as amazing as a mindblowing orgasm after teasing yourself for so long. Your hips would then buck up, and your hand is rubbing very messily at your poor clit before you cum with a loud and long moan–

“Shuji–!” 

You snap out of it so fast, jolting up away from your bed and blinking at your reflection in the mirror.

What the fuck? 

A grown ass woman–one who gets action…not that often, but still enough to fulfill her needs, daydreaming about a man whom she slept with once? It doesn’t make sense. Or maybe it does, you're too deep in denial to admit that the person you've been longing for is the same man who shaped parts of your teenage years, even if it was only for a short time.

The heavy sigh that leaves you is so loud that it bounces off the walls of your empty apartment. So vacant, but it reminds you how Hanma’s short yet dominating presence was enough to make it feel…less hollow. You hated how he filled the void that you had been long wanting to replace, whether it be by decorating your space with greenery or going on pottery dates with friends or even getting your cat more toys just to watch him run around the apartment–the loneliness was hard to swallow. You despised the feeling, it gripped you by the throat and forced you to remember the framed pictures sitting on the shelf above the TV. Friends, family, co-workers–you were made of pieces of them, each having given you a memory to cling onto and use it as a lifeline. 

What do you do when that lifeline is barely hanging by a thread?

Your eyes land on the singular picture that rests on your nightstand, and your frown deepens for a moment as realization hits you. The two people in this picture were supposed to stay with you for a long time, your protectors as they liked to call themselves. You purse your lips and inhale deeply. The bitter aftertaste sitting on your tongue is hard to wash down.

You were perfectly fine being shaped by bits of everyone you'd ever met, but weren’t your brothers meant to be there for life?

“Here, keep this on you all the time.” You stare at the shiny knife as your oldest brother places it on your nightstand, eyebrows furrowing in confusion and you’re forced to close your book.

“A knife?”

“Yeah, it’s for your safety.”

“Ran, why would I need to carry a knife with me?” 

“You never know,” you’re not sure if that’s meant to comfort you—probably not. 

Ran Haitani is very proud of the fact that he had adopted you. Technically, his parents did–but he hated them, and they abandoned you a long time ago, so it was he who adopted you. He remembers you being a tiny baby in your mother’s arms the day that she had picked you up from the adoption center, said something about how she was so excited for this new chapter of her life, and both Ran and Rindou were excited–over the moon to be welcoming a little sister. At 6 and 5 years old, they didn’t know what blood related meant– it never mattered to them in the first place even as they got older. You were a Haitani, their precious little sister, and that meant the whole world to them.

However, the bond grew a little bit stronger after your parents left. Your father was the first to abandon the family, you were 5, Ran was 10 and Rindou’s 9th birthday was approaching. You remember it being a cold day–it wasn’t gloomy outside or anything, but as you sat in the middle of the living room with your brothers by your side, the apartment felt a bit bigger, emptier. A child is fragile, anything can affect them if not dealt with properly–the absence of your father was the first time you had to experience your ‘big feelings’ as Ran liked to describe them. You don’t know what holding back tears is, so you cry as you hug your knees to your chest and let Rindou soothe your back with a gentle hand. It’s a small gesture, but enough to anchor your stuttering breaths. 

“It’s okay,” Rindou says as you sniffle. When you look at him, you see that his eyes are glossed over with something–tears. He blinks them away as soon as he catches you staring at him. “It’s not like we need him, right?”

“Of course not,” Ran speaks confidently, standing over you and Rindou with a superhero-like stance. “As long as you’ve got me, nothing will happen to you!”

“And me!” Upon seeing his older brother act like a superhero, Rindou quickly jumps up and stands next to him. It’s adorable, it gives you hope–your little child body, so overwhelmed with emotion and having to deal with the abandonment of a parent temporarily distracted by the two boys standing in front of you.

“I’m Sailor Uranus,” Ran extends one arm outward with his fingers splayed, while his other arm is bent at his side. He shares a look with Rindou, trying to mask his wobbling lips. Rindou averts his gaze, cheeks set ablaze with overwhelming emotion. Sadness, embarrassment mixed with determination to make you, his little sister, feel better even for a few moments. 

“And I’m Sailor Neptune!” Rindou extends his arm forward, with his other hand pointing slightly upward towards you. Your heart swells with emotion, and you bring your arm to your face to wipe your tears.

“I..I’m Sailor Moon!” You join in weakly, and for a moment—(just a small one), everything seems okay. You have your brothers with you, recreating your favorite characters’ pose and trying to cheer you up. Just for a split second, you’re distracted from the ache that invades your heart and spreads all over your chest. 

But distractions are bad. Like a bandage on a leaking dam, offering a false sense of control while the real flood builds behind them. 

You had always looked up to your mother. It’s natural for a child to have an innocent fascination with one particular parent—after your father left, your mother had become everything to you. Now that you look back at it, it was definitely fear of being separated from her. Losing her so unexpectedly like you did with your father. You would sit in the living room waiting for her to come back from work, whilst Ran and Rindou were outside playing and didn’t necessarily mind the absence of their mother. They were older after all, and perhaps were able to see her for who she truly was earlier than you did. 

“She’s not going to come back on time,” Ran announces from behind you. You don’t move, still looking out of the window and waiting for her silhouette to appear. “You have to eat.”

“No,” you don’t mean for your voice to crack, but alas you’re a child and you cannot control your emotions. You wear your heart on your sleeve and the hurt you’re feeling from your mother’s repetitive tardiness is very apparent. “I’m not hungry.”

As if to mock you, your stomach growls the moment you say it. And Ran sighs behind you before approaching you. 

“No–” you push him away when he wraps his hand around your arm. “I won’t eat–!”

“Rindou hasn’t eaten all day,” Ran’s voice is stern. It momentarily distracts you from your stubbornness and your bottom lip starts wobbling. “He doesn’t want to eat without you—so please,” his voice is now barely above a whisper and your eyes meet his own lavender ones. The sob you choke out is raw, painful–you can’t hold it back any longer and you fall forward, attaching yourself onto your older brother. The taller boy holds you, rubbing soothing circles on your back as he heaves out a sigh.

No child deserves to go through this. 

A few months later, you get accustomed to seeing your mother less often. By the age of 10, Ran and Rindou had managed to make a name for themselves around the area–the rulers of Roppongi. You choose to ignore the events that led them in juvenile detention, you don’t necessarily associate that with great memories but life feels… simple. 

Whilst Ran brings the food and takes care of anything money related, Rindou is the one who is in tune with your emotional needs. He holds you in his arms when you are sad and caresses your head when you’re upset after a particularly nasty fight with Ran. Rindou reminds you of the importance of the rules that they had given you when they started ruling Roppongi, that the way you dress is very important as a Haitani—their little sister. 

You carried that with you through adulthood.

The walls of your apartment have heard you cry for them, felt your sobs and longing. It’s strange how your apartment only knows of their existence through pictures, like ghosts they've never seen in person. Like hearing the echo of laughter in an empty room—faint and distant, yet it lingers, reminding you of the voices that once filled your childhood. 

You are filled with sadness and melancholy and longing—you feel ready to burst like a heavy rain cloud but somehow, you find the strength to hold it all in whilst darkening everything beneath you. Whilst the past few years have been one of the most important ones in your life, you can't deny that with every person you encountered, the shell guarding your heart grew tougher. Like armor forged over time. 

It’s useless to grieve the past, you can’t let it distract you from the task at hand, so you grab your vacuum cleaner and get to work.

Hopefully you’re done before sunset.

–

Ding dong

The digital clock on your microwave flashes 8:12PM in red, bold colors. You did your usual cleaning, showered and dried your hair, planned an outfit for Monday and were checking on some work you needed to do before the week starts. Who would visit you at this time of the day?

None of your co-workers had texted you all day, and you were hoping that they weren’t here to try to convince you to go out. Saying no to them the first time was hard as it is. 

“Shoooo,” you tell your cat as he races you to the front door. “Go away, you can’t get out,” you mumble to your fur companion as you place him on his cat tree and watch as he digs his claws into the plush fabric before running away to your room. 

Ding–ding ding ding!

“Coming! I’m coming,” you rush to unlock the door, forgetting to check through the peephole. As you open it, you get a whiff of a familiar perfume and a tall figure is standing a little too close to you.

“Wha–”

“I got dinner.” 

Of course it would be him. 

He stands before you in all his glory. Brand new suit, messy hair (he must’ve had a long day) and shoes that definitely looked less shinier than usual. You try not to stare too hard at his body, fight the carnal urge that tells you to keep your eyes a little longer on his thighs and lean against the door frame with your arms crossed over your chest. 

“What’s the occasion?”

“Being hungry?” You glare at his sarcastic comment and Hanma shrugs his shoulders with an amused grin.

“What? You don’t trust me?”

“Exactly, I don’t.”

“Well just to remind you, we agreed to be fuck buddies so–”

“For fuck’s sake–” you yank him inside your apartment and Hanma almost lets out a giggle at how flustered you looked. “You need to stop saying shit like that in my hallway.”

“What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“People could hear you,” you shoot him a glare as you walk away from him. Hanma doesn’t miss the chance of checking out your ass in your tight booty shorts. He licks his lips and follows right behind you, plastic bags rustling as he places the food on the kitchen counter.

“What did you get anyway?” You ask as you sit back on the kitchen table, nose shoved deep in your laptop as you continue your work. You’re far too focused on the words in front of you to notice that Hanma had quieted down and was now fully staring at you–taking the sight of you and placing it at the forefront of his mind. 

Despite having seen you naked before, Shuji thinks that you look the most attractive like this. Like the adult women that you matured into. He can’t remember the last time he saw you this concentrated—(was it when he snuck into your room as teenagers? He found you sitting at your desk, nose buried in your homework that you didn’t even notice him opening your window after he had climbed your fire escape). He can’t say he doesn’t like it. The smallest details stood out to the same man who claims to be nonchalant about everything else–the slight pout and frown to your lips, eyebrows furrowing and eyes darting across the screen, pausing briefly to take in each and every word. You wear glasses now. 

(And glasses look good on you, they make your nose look cute).

 A sigh escapes your lips and as you inhale, you finally catch his stare. Intense like a spotlight, analyzing your every move and pinning you in place. 

For obvious reasons, you feel tense under the weight of his golden eyes fixed on you. Exposed, stripped of any secrets you hadn’t even dared to write down in your diary. Hanma’s eyes had the effect of unraveling every guarded truth, as if his intense gaze alone could coax confessions from the deepest corners of your soul. 

Like how you touch yourself to the thought of him.

You avert your gaze towards the bag, growing uncomfortable with the suffocating silence.

“So?”

“Ramen.” You almost deadpan at the man. It’s fascinating how he can shift the tension in the room just by spilling out a few words. 

“You bought ramen??”

“Am I not allowed to?” He pushes himself off of the kitchen counter and starts walking towards you.

“When you said I got dinner, I thought you meant a meal,” you take off your glasses and place them on the table before staring at the bag tiredly. “That’s an unhealthy meal, Hanma.”

“That’s what I get for dinner, usually.”

“You’ve got money.”

“Your point?”

“Go to restaurants??” you say in disbelief and Hanma shrugs his shoulders as he stands next to you, enjoying the obvious height difference. One that reminds him of how big his hands looked on your thighs that night. 

“Tooooo much work,” he drags out his words before stretching his arms over his head. The action elicits a yawn out of his lips and you scoff before grabbing the bag and emptying its content on the table. “Besides, what’s so bad about having instant ramen?”

“It’s unhealthy,” you reply flatly, reaching for the electric kettle. You fill it up with water before pressing the ‘on’ button, the action coming to you so quickly and naturally that it makes Hanma raise an eyebrow.

“Hey, you turned it on a little too fast for someone who thinks instant ramen is unhealthy,” 

“Because this is my kitchen?” The reply you give is laced with sarcasm, absolutely done with whatever he has to say and all Hanma does is just stand back and grin. How fun. 

“Right, of course,” you avert your gaze the moment Hanma’s fingers wrap around his tie, loosening it to allow himself to breathe a little–feel comfortable in an apartment that has already welcomed him twice already. Does he remember the layout? Not exactly. However, his brain is able to trace the map from your kitchen to your bedroom like a professional cartographer. The detail was etched in their mind, like a name carved into stone. 

So he makes himself comfortable, he walks past you and into the living room and you watch as he sits on your couch and stares around your decorated space. 

“Is that a cat tree?” he points at the item sitting near the window. 

“Mmmh,” you hum in response, pouring water into the instant ramen cups. “Why?”

“ ‘s just that I’ve never seen your cat,” he looks around, trying to figure out where your fur companion might be. “But I see signs of that fucker everywhere.”

“Don’t call my cat a fucker.” You almost hiss and it catches Hanma off guard. Not that it was the first time you ever spoke to him in that tone, but you must be very attached to your cat. 

“Whew,” he whistles as he raises his arms in the air.. “My bad. Didn’t know you were that kind of person.” 

Your eye twitches. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you pause on your way to the living room, the cups of ramen were starting to burn your hands but you could care less. 

“Y’know, getting all defensive over an animal?”

“You mean have empathy and emotional connection?” 

“Emotional connection with a cat?” Hanma braces himself forward with his elbows on his knees. His side profile comes into view, but he quickly turns to face you and he sees the way you were slowly losing your patience. “That shit is for people who are lonely.”

It is eerily silent after that. For a good five seconds, Hanma doesn’t seem to understand why you give no reply nor do you make a move. He looks away, pats his pocket to find his phone and turns to look at you. You are still glued to your spot. 

You hope he doesn't hear the sound of your heart breaking, or notice the way your body instantly deflates. 

“It must be.” Your reply is devoid of any emotion. You look away from Hanma’s intense gaze, suddenly growing uncomfortable under all of the attention he was giving you. As you take a seat on the couch (while maintaining a good distance between you and the tall man), you push Hanma’s cup towards him. 

“Here.”

“Thank you.” 

Hanma doesn’t feel comfortable with the silence. It bothers him that he doesn’t. 

You try not to pay attention to him, but it turns out that it’s a hard task given how huge the man is. He spreads his legs on your couch, leaving you almost no space, so you have to nudge his thigh with your knee. 

“Move, you’re taking up too much space.” You’re still avoiding his gaze, and Hanma’s finger twitches as he reaches for his ramen cup. 

“I’m a tall man, doll.”

“Don’t care, you’re sitting on my couch.” You say it with a hint of childishness, your tone laced with annoyance.

Hanma chooses to let it slide and slightly closes his legs, allowing you more space on your small couch. However, your behavior still doesn’t sit right with him. You're not truly aware of your surroundings, even though it may seem like you are—one moment you’re holding your chopsticks, the next you’re looking for the remote control. Hanma watches as you jab at the noodles with your chopsticks, seemingly unfazed by the steam rising from the cup.

“It’s hot.” 

Be careful.

“Ah!” you hold a hand to your mouth, your chopsticks falling on the surface of your coffee table. Your eyes are pricking with tears, and you fan your mouth whilst internally cursing yourself for not paying attention.

“Told you it’s hot,” he sounds unbothered—perhaps a little bored, but still reaches for your face to grab it. You don’t fight back despite the urge to get away from him—from his touch. His rough hand holds your jaw like a rag doll and you force yourself to open your eyes. “Open up.” He takes notice of your swollen lips, then you stick out your tongue and it’s reddened. 

In that moment, you realize there's no space left between the two of you. Any distance you tried to maintain with the tall man has vanished, and you let it happen—you let yourself forget why you're mad at him, giving your mind a break from the constant tension around him.

Everything quiets down, you instantly find yourself lost in the same gaze you had been trying long and hard to avoid. You feel hot—you are sure Hanma’s body feels like a furnace against your skin. However, like two flames flickering inches apart, you both burn with the same heat but never quite touch in a way that would have you melting like a candle. 

It’s a continuous tug of war inside your brain as you hold his gaze, your pulse quickening with each subconscious attempt at moving closer to him—even by an inch. Technically, the two of you were now fuckbuddies, two friends who fuck when the other is free or one is feeling like it. There were no strings attached, no responsibilities, no—

“Ya hungry?” Hanma’s voice is a few octaves deeper. You feel a chill run down your spine before making a poor attempt at shaking your head whilst he’s still holding your jaw. 

You feel a pair of lips against yours, and you take it as a response to what you had told him. 

Hanma’s kisses are rough—he pushes his entire body on top of yours as he kisses you, trapping you beneath him. 

You’re glad the cushions beneath you are soft, because the way he pins you down is anything but.

Dominating and playful, he moves his lips against yours in such a dizzying manner that you have to tap his shoulder to ask him for air. But even when he pulls away from your lips to allow you oxygen, his lips land on another patch of skin—your cheek, your jaw, his teeth nibble at your earlobe and he can feel his cock throb when you buck up your hips. 

“Impatient, aren’t we?”

He presses his forehead against yours and you grow annoyed. Frustration washes over you as you realize you crave more of him, even though you know you shouldn't allow the man so close or invade your personal space. Yet, here you are, yielding beneath him. His kisses are like a wildfire in your veins—once it ignites, it spreads uncontrollably, and no matter how dangerous, you can’t help but feed the flames. 

And feed the flames, you do.

Hanma has never seen you so eager, so needy—sure he’s fucked you before, he’s nestled his cock so deep within the snug walls of your pussy but this–

This was different. 

You’re craving him—his lips against yours like a lifeline. Not once has he seen your body move so desperately against his own whilst your clothes are still on. It makes the muscles of his face twitch.

Smirking, he grabs the back of your thigh and pushes it up to your chest before leaning down—face dangerously close to yours. He doesn’t say anything, eyes scanning your expression—the twitch to your lips, the slight furrow to your eyebrows and the sigh that escapes through your nose from how needy you are. You throw your head back against the couch, nudging Hanma’s butt with your free foot. 

“You’re staring.” 

“Am I?” His tone, his words—they make the butterflies in your stomach erupt like wildfire. You can only afford to whine in response, clearly struggling to take his teasing. He is so dominant— to the point where submitting to him was the only choice you had. As you lie beneath him, Hanma is like a cat playing with a string, effortlessly toying with your patience and leaving you both frustrated and horny. 

Incredibly horny. 

“Shuji,” you reach your hands towards his face, holding it and brushing your thumbs against his cheeks. You brush your nose against his, your teeth sinking into his bottom lip so softly—so gently that it makes him chuckle. 

“You’re gentle with it,” he breathes hotly against your lips, digging his fingers into your skin to show you how rough he likes it. You’re about to push him off of you, straddle his lap and show him that you can be rough with it. It feels like a treat you’re craving, it’s attached to a string and Hanma keeps pulling it away from you every time you’re about to have it—

A loud moan escapes your lips when he’s back on you so suddenly, not giving you enough time to breathe or ground yourself. Gripping his shoulders, Hanma enjoys the feeling of your nails digging into his skin—it ignites his body on fire and heightens his senses. The tall man grows more aware of your body temperature, of the vanilla body lotion you had freshly applied onto your skin or how you seem to be letting your nails grow longer—he’s locked in. 

“Oh doll,” he breathes out against your lips as he pulls away. You’re about to moan in response, rile him up further until he’s snatching your clothes off your skin and dig his cock deep into your insides–

“Fuck!” Hanma shouts–no, he screams out of nowhere and is pushing his body off of you. “What the fuck?!”

“What–what?! What’s wrong?” you’re confused, a little startled as you push yourself up with your elbows. 

“Motherfucker–” you hear hissing from the end of the couch, and you look behind Hanma to find your cat sinking his claws into his back. “Let go of me!”

“Calm down!” you try to separate the two, get your cat off the couch and Hanma to stop reaching for the back of his blouse.

“How the fuck am I supposed to calm down when this little fucker–I will fucking–”

“I said calm down.” you repeat sternly. Your hands reach for your cat’s paws, although he hisses at you, you still understand that it’s a normal reaction for him. Standing up, you grab your fur companion who tries to wriggle out of your hold and he comes face to face with a furious Hanma. 

Your cat hisses again.

“The fuck is his problem?”

“He’s not used to strangers,” you caress your pet’s head, sensing that he’s on high alert. “Let alone men.” 

“Your cat hates men?” 

Your face twists. “My cat isn’t a misandrist.” You roll your eyes at him. “He just… doesn’t appreciate men.” 

“Fancy fucking word–” 

“Anyway, I’m taking him to his room.”

“This fucker has a room?”

“Technically it’s my office.” 

Hanma watches as you walk away with the fur companion who meows very loudly, making his dislike towards the man very clear. He hears you try to shush the pet, promise it good food and treats as long as he behaves and if Hanma didn’t know any better, he would think you were crazy.

Maybe you were. He would never show that much patience towards an animal. 

But now he is able to process what has happened. Assessing the situation, the realization that he got cockblocked by a damn cat hits him like a truck and he sits there, dumbfounded and half offended. 

Cockblocked by a fucking cat. 

You walk back into the living room, looking a bit embarrassed and Hanma takes it that you had come to the same conclusion as him. You stand next to the couch, awkward and stiff and your hands are fiddling with the fabric of your shorts before you open your mouth.

“I-”

“Don’t even.” 

Hearing his bored tone, you deflate and sigh before plopping next to him on the couch. You were now drier than the Sahara and he didn’t seem interested in rearranging your insides as he was a few moments ago. 

Well, you still have your food to finish. 

“Want me to heat up your food again?” 

“Mmm, sure.” 

—

Hanma plans to leave as soon as he’s done eating. It’s almost hilarious the way he grabs his jacket the moment he slurps the final noodle into his mouth and you don’t have it in you to ask him where he’s going. 

After all, it wasn’t part of your agreement. Despite the fact that you didn’t even fuck properly tonight, you still knew that his business wasn’t yours to know and his presence was always going to be temporary. 

“The elevator’s working by the way,” you are throwing the cups of Ramen in the trash when you suddenly speak up and Hanma has to pause his movements. 

“They fixed it?”

“After paying a huge sum of money, yeah they did.”

“That’s good.”

“Mmmhm.” Cold and distant, this is how you want to present yourself to the same man who has no problem taking your heart in his hands and shattering it into small pieces. 

“Next time I come over, I hope that fucker doesn’t dig his nails into my ass next.” Next time.

“I’ll make sure we fuck on my bed then.” You say playfully, bringing the glass of water to your lips and Hanma watches as you maintain eye contact the whole time. 

“Oh yeah? Already planning the next time we gonna fuck?”

You shrug your shoulders. “You were good. I’d be a fool if I said I didn’t want it again.”

Hanma chuckles, offering his signature smirk with a tilt to his head. “Good? Not great, or fucking amazing?”

“Good.” You put emphasis on the word, but the tall man notices how you avoid his eyes and it’s an indirect confession. 

“Sounds like you want me to change your mind.” Squeezing your thighs at the sound of his deep voice, you almost moan in relief when you see him start to take off his jacket.

Fucking finally. 

“Maybe I do.”

—

The November cold was unbearable. The man shivers inside his own car and his hand reaches towards the heater to turn it on. He doesn’t understand why he is here, it was too late for him to be parked under a residential building and he sure hopes he doesn’t look suspicious with the way he keeps checking for the door. 

“Come on, come on…” 

Almost on cue, the door opens and a tall figure walks out. Hair messed up, clothes half adjusted and a cigarette hanging off his lips. It was none other than Hanma Shuji. The man watches as the criminal checks his phone for a good ten seconds before blowing out smoke, his chest stutters a bit as he scoffs and he shoves the device into his pocket before walking towards his car. 

Hanma doesn’t seem to notice the unknown car and the mysterious man is grateful for that. He wants to avoid problems. 

However, how was he going to explain his sudden visit at 11:30PM? 

He shouldn’t…or perhaps he should. 

When you open the door, your eyes are heavy with sleep and the man can’t help but stare at the love bites littering your neck. 

“Hey, missed me?”

Your eyes widen and you instinctively open the door wider. 

“Chifuyu.”

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