#wind rushing round

[dilf-docs]

I Can Fix Her (No Really I Can)

jackson!joel miller x younger fem!reader

summary: jackson's loud mouthed spoiled princess has suddenly gone quiet. what or who could be behind such miracle?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (20s/50s), pwp, p. in v., oral (m. and f. receiving), brat taming, dacryphilia, pussy spanking, fingering, humiliation kink, dom!joel, sub!joel if u squint, soft!joel (look at that switch sandwhich fr), brat!reader (she's annoying and v mean, you've been warned), denial is a river so take this before the world mourns joel miller again

word count: 5,391 words

side note: new layout my citizens! will eventually update all of the blog but as for now, enjoy this one and the masterlist. quick thing, i just wanted to say that i had a very shitty week and for the life of me, can't find a way to make ttdik pt. 4 not oversaturated with angst bc i wish all men a very pleasant die or how to connect what i've written so far. note that this was kinda rushed; i feel confident of some parts and not the whole thing. just hoping it works for y'all! (based on this request)

Joel Miller isn't who he used to be before.

Life in Jackson has made him... soft. This version of him, tired of a life of killing and running, tainted with blood and regret. But he's now an uncle and a father. Well, used to be. Ever since Ellie had found out the truth and wanted nothing to do with him, he had somewhat become downright pathetic. Joel could be both Jackson's most useful man, even at his age, while also being their biggest wretch. Ah, yes: Joel Miller, the man who lived in the house down the street, alone and certainly worth the townsfolk's pity.

Maybe that's why you couldn't bother to be nice to him. In your eyes, a man like Joel just didn't deserve your time or respect.

But it wasn't personal, really. He happened to, unfortunately, be in charge of your patrol. That, in your eyes, made him your enemy: a person to be defied and picked apart. And the worst part is, in his current position, Joel just didn't have the energy to fight you back.

"You want me to cross that wearing this?" your protest comes in the form of a whiny pitch. "Ew, no. I'd rather be dead"

At least dead, you wouldn't be a bother. He rolls his eyes, rubbing his face tiredly. The rest of the group watches the interaction in silence, expressions pretty much the same.

"I promise 'cha, princess. Ya' wouldn't want that"

The nickname should irk you, but you let it pass. It is no news to anyone that you are indeed a princess: Jackson's resident little spoiled brat.

Sheltered from early starts of civilization's downfall, maybe your parents had done more bad than good trying to protect you and settling early on in Jackson. You had grown to be a pampered bitch who made Joel's patience wear thin. Of course, to keep him busy and distracted, Tommy had assigned you to Joel. And while he'd rather not spend his days on a house too big for a person, he too wasn't exactly excited about having to deal with you on your patrol shifts.

(If you could call them that. You did anything but patroling)

You cross your arms, petty. "I'm not moving unless you carry me"

Maybe your need to defy him also came, partly, because of this: the way he's looking at you right now, a quiet rage simmering in those big round brown eyes that remind you of a kicked puppy, but when they burn, they seem like a forest fire, old remnants of the hunter that had been tamed by domestic life and a broken relationship resurfacing.

It excites you.

All your life, people seemed to bend to your will-- a force of nature: to your cruel harsh icy wind. You kept Jackson down at their knees, but it wasn't kindness, rather your shoe up their throats what put them to your feet.

Yet, Joel... he could be a loser to you, but he was probably the only one you'd met to be insane enough to defy you. The only man who didn't succumb to your fluttering eyelashes, pink lips and princess manners. No, he ignored the way you looked at him and your constant begging for attention, leaving the job to those men who seemed to follow your every step, ready to be themselves a carpet for you to step in. He'd roll his eyes and walk past you like you were the most bland, boring and uninteresting thing in the world: not worth a second of his attention. Joel simply wouldn't entertain your spoiled attitude past replying to a few snarky comments.

And that revolted and aroused you in equal parts.

It's not like you could escape your obligation, but perhaps, the bigger reason you chose to not skip patrol like you used to before his arrival, is to see Joel Miller's sinking ships for eyes try to wash over your rebel flame.

"Be free to stay then" he replies, but you don't miss the way his grip on his rifle turns white. "I ain't carryin' no one"

"I can carry you" one of the guys from your group offers.

(You can't remember his name)

"Sure" you chuckle, victory smile dancing on your lips at the sight of him looking above his shoulder in a barely stolen glance, thinking you won't notice.

But you do.

Joel Miller fucking hates you.

After five decades alive, he simply can't stand the idea of breathing the same air as a spoiled little brat like you.

Joel's seen destruction, loss, hopelessness and blood up close, and the thought of you walking around like the world owes you a favor fills him with vitriol.

He's been alive for fifty-six years so he's simply just tired. Too tired to give a damn about your attitude, despite how you manage to press all his buttons every time you open your mouth.

He still remembers the first time he met you, how you laughed like people did before all civilization was destroyed. You walked with a confident strut, boots clicking against Jackson's streets, every step made with determination. Like you knew just where you were going.

He envied you, in a way. After Salt Lake City, he seemed to have lost his path, all in the name of love. Then, that warm feeling had turned cold and cruel like all things in this world ravaged by pain, and he felt even at more loss than the first time he experienced grief.

But you? You lived everyday with a dismissal so cold it seemed like nothing could hurt you.

He missed that part of him who just survived: hardened by the world around him.

But Jackson tamed him. Ellie made him soft.

And then you brought up that old dark part of him: the putrid black liquid that spewed through the cracks of his new character that made him loved by Jackson. The same one that made people fear one of Boston QZ's most brutal smugglers. It was that vicious anger, red on his vision like the ichor that would splatter on his clothes or cover his bruised knuckles.

He hated you for it.

But that was in the past, and Joel Miller simply didn't care.

Yet, you made him care. Outright forced him to.

In a way, it seemed like you enjoyed this: the banter of contained rage and practiced patience, dripping as a leak until it overflew. You'd shot your bratty remarks and petty complains until he'd turn around and see you. Then, you'd smile, like that's all you needed to feel better. Far superior. And he hated it. Knew your little game, and fed into it, even as he told himself he wouldn't. Like a drug: a destroying addiction.

Joel didn't understand why you took the time to enrage him, having even heard once when he was late for patrol (he overslept), how you talked bad about the, in your words, Lonely Pathetic Man From The House On The End Of The Road.

Joel Miller has been patient. God knows he has. But he isn't religious, and was never the type to let things pass by.

No. Joel Miller was born with impel, and no matter how many love he had to give, the world around him constantly reminded him of the power hidden behind the exertion over others, how alive he'd felt with the gift he'd been given by heaven.

He isn't patient. He isn't a fool. He isn't pathetic: and Joel Miller will take matters between his rugged hands.

Tommy had arched an eyebrow first, looking at just his and your name on the patrol schedule.

"What's going on?" he narrowed his eyes suspiciously at his brother.

"Found a cabin deep on the forest" curt, "I'ont need lot'a people to scavenge the place"

In the end, he agreed. Who didn't? You, obviously, the reason so many before him had gotten rid of their obligation of you. To flirt with you at the Tipsy Bison? Hell yeah. To have you in their patrol team? God, no.

"Where is everyone else?" you cross your arms above your chest, bracing yourself because of the weather. "Also, isn't this climate not patrol appropiate?"

Joel's not dumb, of course he knows that-- he can feel his aching joints shiver and bones creak because of the temperature. But he also knows he's sick of your shit.

"Ain't you little Ms. Know it all" he mocks, brushing past you, shoulders clashing with the same harsh force the icy breeze does to your face.

"And you're an asshole" you're quick to counter, "bringing us out here in the cold. If you wanted to kill me, you could've made it easier for both of us and done it way back in Jackson"

He rolls his eyes at your incessant bickering.

"Watch y'er mouth" is all he says, the brat hanging dangerously close to the tip of his tongue.

"I'd rather watch my step, thank you very much" you purse your plush pink lips, annoyed. "Have you seen the size of this roots? I will trip and break myself"

He chuckles at your hyperboles and the way you jump in a rather exaggerated manner, more in amusement than irritation.

"Don't think ya' can handle all'at?" Joel taunts. "Gon' break like a doll?"

Doll. It hangs in the air, like the snowflakes that fall into your hair and his eyebrows, the white fusing with his own.

"I'm strong" but it comes out weak.

"Don't seem like it" he's laughing at you again, a sharp annoyed edge to it. "With all that complainin' ya' do"

You huff, your incredulity condescing in the air.

"What's wrong with that?"

"With bein' annoyin'?" Joel quips.

"With voicing out my concerns"

He's walking ahead of you, yet you see his shoulders slump, like he does when he disagrees.

"Those ain't concerns, jus' moanin' and bitchin'"

It's still inside the fun banter you're carrying, harmless, but for some reason, it strikes you in the face.

"If you can't stand me so much, why don't you quit on me, like the others?"

You may seem cold, but there's that cut that always bleeds. Or it may be the need for something that blurs the line between you and those survivors out there who've outlived the worst a man can endure.

Like Joel.

You just can't help wanting it all.

Joel stops on his tracks at your words, response barely above a whisper:

"'Cause I ain't a quitter"

As if that could bring any sense into what had started the moment he layed eyes on you.

You finally reach your destiny in silence, the old cabin hanging by a thread.

"This looks like shit" you comment out loud.

Joel lets out a laugh, a deep rumbling sound coming out of his chest. For a reason, red dust makes it's way into your warm cheeks.

"No, doll. In this world, this ain't shit. It's decent"

You don't miss the way your breath hitches and heart skips a beat at the petname. He doesn't miss the way his tongue burns and his jeans squeeze at the sight of you: powerless.

God, Joel could go to hell for this. (But he'd probably be fine)

"Decent? You're one to talk" it spills out, your fear attacking the only way you know how when you're nervous.

Bite.

You hate feeling weak. You hate how your own game has turned on you.

It seems, Joel Miller isn't just a pathetic man but one who knows how to play.

(You knew this. But now, it's real, not the image you touch yourself to during nighttime, and it's equally both exciting and scary)

The red desire for hunger is there on his eyes. "What's that s'pposed to mean?"

You tilt your head, tone feigning innocence. "I think you know what I mean"

He paces around the room, like your floral scent is too suffocating and the cold isn't enough to shake the fire that burns inside him.

"Spit it" he dares, stopping midtrack. You remain silent, so he walks over to you, face so close, some spit lands in your face. "I said, spit it"

"I think you're pathetic, Joel Miller" yet, for some reason, your heart wavers. What were you even doing? Never had you doubted yourself once, sometimes even finding pleasure in the wicked cutthroat words you'd spew, but today, as his face stands dangerously close to you, his breath ghosting over your lips as his eyes roam over them and you count his wrinkles, it feels wrong.

"'S that what 'cha think, doll?" he chuckles, leaning forward. His lips barely brush against yours by mistake, yet it's enough to send shivers all over your body. "Wanna know what I think? I think you're da' real pathetic burden here. Fucken annoyin' and unuseful. All you know how ta' do is complain' and be a bitch"

"A bitch?" your voice is loud as your roar back, probably because it's coming into your face with the force of a train. But that's how truth feels, and it hurts like hell. "Did you just call me a bitch?"

He laughs, bitterly so, equally irritated as fascinated by how easy it's to see you crumble.

Joel made you out to be this unbreakable force, but at the end of the day, you're human, just like him.

"And y'called me pathetic, s' I guess we're even"

You look crazy: hair disheveled by the wind, chest going up and down and that same craze look on your eyes.

"Fuck you, Joel Miller" you seethe.

It's a simple comeback. No witty retort, no elaborated plot. Just four words, yet it's the way you said it, venomous, with such hostility, like his presence alone made you sick. Your skin crawl. Like the thought alone of being equals couldn't pass through your thick skull, and you had to get rid of just the concept; an ofense.

You pull back, realizing how truly close you were. You then march to the bedroom, slamming the door behind you.

With Joel, there's always a first when it comes to you.

(The first man to catch your attention. The first man to show lack of interest or amusement to your well-known tactics that worked every time. The first man to make your skin crawl like seeing yourself in the mirror. Like you would stare until your image would imprint on your brain, and you'd pick apart every small detail you don't like about you. That was Joel fucking Miller, rolling like thunder, ready to strike over your walls, like he knows where to hit to make you crumble, as if the façade you've built is as much in vain as the hate you carry even with the easy life that's been given to you)

He may be the first man to make you cry.

"Come here!" he shouts, roaring voice reverberating against the walls of the cabin. He swings the door of the bedroom open, finding your satisfied expression as you sit over the old worn out mattress, wiping your tears quickly with a harsh tug of your sweater, coat lying on the dirty floor.

"What?" you ask, as if you hadn't started the fight five seconds ago.

"Ya' think y' can shout and then leave like that?" he spits, "you fucken brat!"

A weird wild spark settles in the pit of your stomach.

"I can do whatever I want"

(The fire. It burns)

He scoffs at your childish response. "Not when y'er under my watch. Like it or not, y'r ma' damn responsability, kid"

Now it's your turn to sneer. "Don't call me that. I'm not a kid"

Of course you fucking weren't: he's got eyes. But goddamn, didn't you act like one all the time?

"Good" his voice adquires a weird tone to it, dropping. "Then strip"

It's like the air's been knocked out of your lungs.

You scoff. "Excuse me?"

"I know you ain't deaf" tone stern, "nor stupid. Are you?"

"Did you just call me stupid?" you raise your voice. Was he going to pull out every single insult from the book? Fair, you think, after you had told him to fuck off in the way you did.

(You were aware your words shoot to kill when you were mad. You had a lot of regrets about that)

"I asked 'cha if ya' were. If there's no answer, I s'ppose that's it"

"I'm not stupid" you counter.

"What?" he's asking you to say it again, like he hasn't heard you.

"You aren't deaf" you repeat his earlier words, eliciting a chuckle out of him.

The windows of the cabin rattle, the cold winter slipping inside the cracks. You shiver yet stand still, not wanting him to misinterpret your body language.

As if you'd ever surrender to him. As if.

"I'm sick of your bullshit" he seethes, "thinkin' ya' can make a clown outta me infront of everyone else, and then look at me like I'm sum piece of meat. Now it's your turn"

"My turn to what?" but this time, your voice wavers. You walk closer, eyelids fluttering.

His uneven breath condensces in the air with a shaky gelid exhale.

"Y'e don't know what you're gettin' into" he warns.

You smile at his barely contained temper. "I think I do"

Joel's body is completely surrounding yours in the bedroom. Before you register, he pulls you by your jaw with his hand.

"Still thinkin' that?" he mocks, thumb pulling your bottom lip down, forcing your mouth open. "Answer me"

But he's pressing his finger on your tongue. You feel yourself starting to drool.

"Ya' really want 'tis, don't 'cha?" his eyes darken, "droolin' like a fucken cockstarved slut. Now strip" his grip tightens, "I won't ask again"

Your body shivers, but no longer because of the temperature drop. A treacherous jolt runs in between your legs at the very first instance of someone putting you in your place. It feels too good to backtrack, but the last remaining drops of sanity plead you to quit.

"Joel" you say his name like a prayer, and he thinks he'd like to see you beg. "I was fucking around-"

"Don't make me repeat myself"

You sit on the edge of the bed, getting rid of your clothes. It's like your mind has stopped working and your body belongs to someone else.

But you want this. Fuck, you had begged for this: sharpening your knife to make your words cut deeper with him until the bleeding was too big to ignore.

You wanted this. Craved it. Needed to satisfy whatever foreign feeling you'd now attribute to your rebellious and spoiled nature.

(You had never been denied anything, and even now, Joel knows this, but can't help and too give in)

"Not so loud now, are we?" he jests, "but 's worth the view, lettin' 'cha run your spoiled tongue off"

He hums with approval at the sight of your body, your pliant energy making his hard cock twitch in his pants.

"You like what you see, Joel?" you ask softly, despite your resistence.

He groans at that, calloused digits grazing the soft skin of your virgin collarbones.

"I do, princess" he answers, lifiting your chin up. "I'll show ya'"

He takes your hand into his bigger one, moving it right onto the spot between his legs.

"You've been bad, little spoiled brat" Joel's voice rasps as your thighs rub together. Y'er lucky I like that"

He pats your cheek. "Wanna make it up to me?" you eagerly nod, desperate for Joel's approval. You hate not having the upper hand, and a part of you thinks you'd get it back if you behave well. "Good girl. Now sit"

He sits next to you, patting his thick thighs. You salivate just at the thought, moving your body over his denim clad lap. "Right'ere"

"Look at 'cha" he parts your legs, a hoarse tks falling from his lips. Joel chuckles at the wet mess that's created. "So fucken wet and I ain't even touched yet"

You feel his rough digits ghost over your dripping cunt, just as his lips had done minutes ago. The teasing sets you on edge, thrill coarsing through your veins. Without warning, his big palm slaps against your cunt, and you feel yourself soaking your folds like you had never ever before.

"Fucken dirty whore. You ain't no princess, gettin' wet to 'tis" he mocks, "what would daddy say"

"Shut up" you sneer, but your body is full of hormones and treason.

"Not when I'm above 'cha, darlin'. Wouldn't wanna piss me off when I'm the one who decides if 'tis pretty pussy comes or not"

"What makes you think I'll take shit from you?" but it comes out as a whimper. Smack. A jolt runs straight from your pussy, stinging from the contact. "Didn't take it when we where in patrol, why should I do now?"

He laughs, darkly. It's haunting.

"'Cause you want 'tis. And I know you'll be a good girl for me to get it"

You feel yourself dizzy, head spinning as you land on the floor.

"Let's see if I get 'cha to shut up if that dirty bratty mouth of y'rs is stuffed full of ma' cock"

He pulls down his worn-out jeans, getting rid of his belt on a harsh pull. The clinking sound makes you rub your thighs together in a new found anticipation, instead of taking the time to run away from this, whatever the hell this is.

No. He's right.

You want this as much as he does.

(Isn't that the scariest part?)

"Ya' like what 'cha see, y/n?" he's smart to use your same words back, but it's the way he's said your name, like he was always meant to say it, or the angry throbb of his cock, what makes you drool at the red furious tip, dripping with rage and need.

"I think it's your dick who's more excited than me" you taunt, tracing the inner soft skin of his thick thighs. "Practically begging for me to lick it"

His adam's apple bobs.

"Tell me, Joel, when was the last time someone made this pretty big cock feel good?"

"Enough" his fingers grab your hair, pulling you harshly until he drags your mouth onto his cock. "I'm tired of y'er bullshit"

You aren't a stranger, he thinks, with the way you kiss his tip, tongue making a wet circle through the head of his cock. You take him into your mouth, pulling out in a second.

"W-what you do that for?" he asks, breathing rapidly. Strained voice.

You smirk.

"To watch you"

To watch how his eyes had closed as soon as your breath ghosted over his leaking cock, how he threw his head back and gripped the sheets viciously at just your shameless lazy circling. Joel Miller could be in charge, but God, wasn't he touch-starved?

(And for a reason, that was so fucking hot. And, in a way, adorable)

"J-just 'cause I'm-" he cuts himself off, probably out of need or out of embarrassment. "You're not in charge, so don't fuck around with your chances, slut. Imma show you y'r place real quick"

His grip tightens in your hair, forcing himself back into your mouth. Joel was punishing, with the way he's pushing your head down until it was at the base of his cock. You gagged for a moment, eyes closing at the weight of his thick girth on your tongue. 

"Takin' it like a champ, princess. Usin' that mouth of y'rs for good" and then, with a softer tone he adds, "like ya're made for me"

You moan around him as he starts fucking into your mouth, pulling you off quickly, saliva slipping out of your mouth as you gasp for air. 

"Joel" you whine his name, legs pressing together in order to get any friction. 

"Now you beggin'? 'S gonna take more than jus' that, doll" he taunts, but there's a certain wicked softness to the way he traces your cheek as you scramble an attempt. "Try harder, princess"

"I'm sorry, Joel-"

He moves his head, clearly dissatisfied.

"Not Joel. Ya' call me sir when I fuck you"

A mewl escapes your lips.

"Sir" comes out like a faithless prayer, begging to be heard. "I'll do anything, sir, please, touch me"

"Al'ight, but still, it ain't 'nough"

Oh.

The hot tears in the corner of your eyes shouldn't arouse him this much, but the watery promise makes his cock twitch.

"I-I'll do anything, I swear" you beg, the salty tears stream down your cheeks in cascades. "It hurts, Jo-" you whine, "sir, please. Just fuck me goddamit!"

Your once poised voice, now reduced to a whimpering begging mess. Your red rimmed eyes, beginning to puff. It's the way a gloss seems to coat over them, making you look like a doe-eyed deer and not the brat who challenged his every decision and word.

Fuck, isn't he aroused.

"Lookin' so pretty when you cry" he smiles, but instead of wiping the tears, it's his tongue that licks them off your face. "You beggin' that bad to take my cock"

You nod, eagerly so.

"Please, Jo- Just, please. D-don't make me beg" your face feels hot and wet again, "I-I can't take it anymore. Just fucking give it to me!"

"Easy, baby. Can't understand a thing you sayin'" Joel teases. "Where your manners at, besides?"

"Please, sir" he gently pulls you up, humming in satisfaction.

"Goin' crazy over my cock, baby? Y'sure have a nerve to call one pathetic if you gon' act like this, you little brat"

But he is the one moaning when his lips cature your mouth with a fierce impulse, like he wants to devour you whole and swallow your vocals, as to never speak up again.

(But then, he wouldn't hear his name on your sweet albeit snotty voice, and that's a privilege he can't forbid himself from, no matter how annoying you can get sometimes)

"Please" you whisper one last time. He wipes a stray tear with his rough thumb. "I'm yours"

"See, baby? It ain't that hard to shut that mouth of y'rs"

He guides you to the old bed while renewing the kiss, tongues now engaged on a battle for dominance, like even without using your words you'd still need to assert your power over the other. You moan into his mouth when your body slams against the mattress and Joel lands on top, his weight sinking you in the old bed, that creaks.

"I just want to be a good girl for you" you whimper.

"You sure of that? Not gon' be a brat?" and despite his harsh tone that seems to humiliate you, his wandering fingers are gentle with each touch, like if he were to put any more force, you'd break. Joel thinks it's not necessary with you: just with you begging for his cock, he's broken you.

"No, sir" and then you whimper as his mouth dives to the collarbones you had taunted him with before. Joel takes his time, inhaling the musk and savoring the sweet of your skin. Needy whines leave your lips, and he's having the time of his life seeing you surrender so easily, like you had no idea what limits to push, where they'd take you and how you'd pay for that.

"C-Can I touch you?" you whisper, hands itching to tangle on his grey parted hair. He chuckles at the eagerness and tenderness you don't seem aware of.

"S' you can be sweet if ya' want to, huh?" he leaves a fluttering kiss to your chin. "Needy and desperate too. Do ya' want to touch, princess? Remember to use y'r words"

"Yes, sir. I-I want to touch you"

"Thought I disgusted you, hmm? I take you've learnt y'r lesson now?"

"Yes, I've learned. Please, sir, won't do it again" you plead.

"I'll allow ya' to touch, doll" he gives you a smirk, "but 'ts all you get for now"

He lets your hands cling to his coat, taking it off. Then, you proceed to his buttoned shirt, fingers flidding with buttons until you grown annoyed and desperate, pulling the fabric over his head with need.

"Look at 'cha" but there's only adoration, proven so when he starts to kiss the trail of soft skin that goes from your neck to your stomach, making you squirm. "Easy, baby. 'M gettin' down there"

He finally reaches your core, kissing the inner side of your thighs with wet and sloppy lips. His hot breath tingles over your clit, and a beat later, his mouth presses into your cunt, your back arching at the cold contact of his chapped lips against the humid hot of your folds.

You muffle a moan, embarrassed at the whole situation.

"Ain't need to worry 'bout nothin', doll. Nobody can hear us" he grins, tongue flicking your clit. "Wanna listen to your pretty whimpers as I make 'cha feel good"

You cry out of pleasure, the sound escaping past your lips. Joel has a laugh.

"Good girl"

Joel rewards you with another series of minstrations on your bud, licks made with determination only the expert man knows of. He then slides one finger into you, slowly moving it in and out of your soaked trembling heat. 

"M-more" you beg, eager to get more fingers inside you. "Please, more, sir"

You buck your hips to try to get closer to him, meeting his thrusts.

Joel tuts, "What're you doin', spoiled brat? Did I tell ya' to move? You were doing such'a great job... guess I gotta punish you-"

"No!" you shout. "Do anything you want, but touch me, please- touch me!"

He introduces a second finger, raising his brow at the immediate way you clench around him. Joel curls them, robbing another moan out of you.

"Feels good?" you can't answer, as a hard thrust robs another moan from you. "But I'ont want 'cha to think we done, princess. Think I'd let you come, jus' like that? After all's happened?"

"Need you" you tug him closer with your arms holding onto his. "Joel, sir- please"

"Oh, princess" he smirks, "I think you don't know what you askin' for"

Joel grabs his hand around his length, coating the tip in your slicky juices, and then, he presses his length into you in one thrust.

"You're big-" you pant as he gives you time to adjust to his size. Joel then picks up an unrelenting pace that makes moans spill out of you like a fountain, the pace of his thrusts sending you closer and closer to the edge. 

"N-need to-"

"Don't" he seethes. "Ya' won't 'till I tell ya' can"

All you could do is moan, helplessly pinned between his body and the bed. Your whole body shakes in an effort to contain as his hips loose their rhythm, his groans louder as he gets closer and closer to the edge. 

"Al'ight. 'Cause you've been good" his cock drives through your walls with rhythmic melodies. "Cum, princess, but when ya' do, look at me"

You're seeing stars the moment your toes curl and his head falls to clash against your forehead.

(The beads of sweat roll down out of him like trails to follow, and his scarred rugged skin doesn't compare to your soft one, painted with the maroon of his bites and kissing at the skin of your collarbone. The dried up trails of tears. Your begging and desperate voice. His name on your lips)

It only takes a few more thrusts before he spills in you, cock twitching until every last drop of thick hot white cum is pumped into you.

Joel then pulls out gently, pressing a kiss to your forehead before flopping onto you, the mattress dipping even further. With his hand, he removes a stray strand of damp hair, putting it behind you ear with such tender kindness, your heart strings pull.

"In fact, I want ya' to look at me next time y'even think 'bout defying me. See if that mouth of y'ers can talk after 'tis"

A week later, you're back at patrolling.

"Anyone got anythin' to say?"

The group looks at you. You're about to open your mouth, but Joel cocks an eyebrow.

Just like that, and you're gone. Great job, y/n.

"Whatever" you sound meek as you push past him, yet he catches a glimpse of your warm cheeks. "Let's go"

The rest are too stunned to speak, the silence only cut off by Miller's laugh.

"Would 'cha look at that?" he whistles. "Ain't nobody tell ya' miracles don't happen anymore on this goddamn world!"

credits: divider @kodaswrld / gif @chappellsroans

[ariichive]

WHITE DAY ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱

celebrating white day with the man who’ll do anything for you <3

cw: gen. neutral reader, fluff, established relationship, moze is a bit weird, sliiiight possessiveness, astral express sunday, kissing, lmk if i missed anything :)

boothill, aventurine, jing yuan, mydei, anaxa, sunday, moze, and phainon ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

boothill ᯓᡣ𐭩

you giggled as boothill led you through the empty, infamous clock studios theme park. "this can't be allowed," you whisper-shouted at him, who had a ginormous grin.

boothill, however, only flashed you that devil-may-care grin of his, tipping his hat back as he casually strolled forward, seemingly not bothered by the rules—or the late hour. “aw, darlin',” he drawled, looking over his shoulder at you, “ain’t no harm in a lil’ late-night stroll. the park’s still runnin’. they got their folks takin' care of the rides, but they ain't watchin' every corner.”

you shot him a disbelieving look, glancing around at the still-bustling park—there were still families and groups laughing, enjoying the remaining hours. but with how boothill had his hand around yours, there was no turning back.

“boothill, there’s security everywhere. we’re gonna get caught.”

“nah,” he said, a wink thrown your way as he led you further into the park. “what makes you think they can catch us? you just gotta know where to go and when to disappear.”

“and you know where to go?” you said, trying to sound incredulous, but you couldn’t hide the excitement rising in your chest.

“oh, darlin’, i’ve been around these parts enough to know where the real fun happens after hours. all the good stuff happens behind the scenes,” he said, eyes gleaming with mischief. “we’re just gonna skip the line and see the real show.”

it was a known fact boothill was a wanted man; ipc and other factions wanted his head.

you laughed, shaking your head. “you’re absolutely insane. this is—”

“fun?” he finished for you, smirking as he pulled you toward one of the smaller, quieter corners of the park, away from the main attractions. “that’s exactly what it is. don’t let the suits and tie-wearin’ folks fool you, sugar. there’s always something hidden behind the curtain.”

you followed as he led you down a narrow, slightly hidden path between the many gift shops and food stands. there were fewer people here, and the sounds of the park seemed a little more distant. a quiet buzz lingered in the air, one that made your heart race with anticipation.

“what are you planning?” you asked, your voice low now, the playful tone taking on a hint of curiosity.

“i’ve got some connections ‘round here. places they don’t show the public. places you might not expect.” boothill's grin was unrelenting, his eyes scanning the area, like he was constantly on the lookout, always one step ahead.

you furrowed your brow. “so we’re sneaking into some secret area where nobody goes?”

“exactly,” he said, his voice dropping to a quieter, more dangerous tone. “and you’re gonna love it. it’s the part of clock studios they never show—the real behind-the-scenes stuff. think of it as a treasure hunt, sugar.”

you swallowed hard, feeling that familiar rush of adrenaline you got whenever boothill pulled you into one of his schemes. “and what’s the treasure?”

boothill sent you a smile, one that was more gentle than the previous ones. "you just gotta see for yourself. just a lil' somethin' to show you how much i enjoy spendin' time with ya.”

you raised an eyebrow. "oh really? and what makes you think i want a date in the middle of clock studios at this hour?"

boothill grinned wider, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "because i know ya, darlin'. you got a wild streak in ya. and i can tell you like a bit of adventure—so i figured we'd skip all the usual fancy stuff and give ya a night you'll never forget."

you snorted softly at his confidence. “well, i’m curious, i’ll give you that.”

he didn’t answer right away. instead, he led you down the winding path, eventually reaching a large, circular room lit by soft lanterns hanging from the ceiling. as the door closed behind you with a soft click, you took in the scene before you.

there, in the middle of the room, was a cozy little table set for two. delicate white candles flickered on the table, their soft glow casting dancing shadows across the walls. the table was covered with a cloth, and on it, there were plates of food, wine glasses, and a single rose in the center.

your breath caught in your throat. “boothill... is this...?”

“yep,” he interrupted, chuckling. “a lil' somethin’ special just for you. dinner in the heart of clock studios.” he motioned for you to sit down. “now, don’t be shy. i reckon you’ll like it here. no crowds, no distractions, just you, me, and some damn fine food.”

you shook your head, still trying to wrap your mind around the situation. “this is... unbelievable. you really planned all this, didn’t you?”

“sure did,” he said, pulling out the chair for you like a gentleman. his usual rough demeanor was softened by the genuine care in his eyes. 

you squeezed his hand, your heart beating a little faster as you looked into his eyes. "this... this is perfect, boothill. thank you."

“anything for you, sugar,” he replied, his smile softening as he poured the wine. “anything for you.”

aventurine ᯓᡣ𐭩

"w-what the—"

when you woke up, you were met with an eerie sight. two beady eyes stared back at you from the foot of your bed, gleaming in the dim light. your breath caught in your throat as you turned to the side, only to be greeted by another pair of eyes—this time from the nightstand.

you froze, unsure whether you were still caught in a strange dream or not.

then, hurried footsteps approached, the blinds were thrown open, and bright daylight poured into the room, revealing the full scope of the situation.

the room was filled with them—hundreds of teddy bears. stuffed animals of all sizes, arranged in perfect rows, surrounding your bed. their stitched eyes all seemed to glisten with an unsettling lifelike quality, staring at you from every angle.

“a-am i still dreaming?” you whispered, unsure whether you could still trust your senses.

you shut your eyes tightly, squeezing them shut in a vain attempt to block out the madness. but when you opened them again, the bears were still there, their beady eyes gleaming.

before you could say anything else, a voice that was too calm for the situation echoed through the room.

"not exactly the reaction i was going for. how unfortunate."

you snapped your head toward the window, finding the source of the voice: your lover, aventurine. he stood there, leaning against the window frame with his arms crossed, a slight smirk tugging at his lips as he observed your shock.

you exhaled a breath of relief—at least he wasn’t part of the teddy bear invasion. his gaze, filled with gentle amusement, was the only familiar thing in the room that grounded you in reality.

“aventurine...” you trailed off, still trying to process what was happening.

“yes, yes, i know.” he straightened up, stepping into the room, his voice smooth as always. “you were probably expecting something a bit more romantic, were you not? perhaps a flower delivery or a candlelit dinner?” he gave a dramatic sigh. “but no, instead, you get this."

his arms gestured around the room, and you couldn’t help but blink at the absurdity of it all.

“what... what is all this?” you asked, your voice wavering with confusion.

"well, my dear, some would see it as a heartwarming gift from their lover. but, i bet you see it as more of a... heart attack."

"i wanted to do something memorable." he looked down at the stuffed animals thoughtfully before letting out a soft laugh. “i suppose, after all the chaos, the gesture doesn’t quite come across as I intended.”

you took in the various different bears, realizing how cute most of them were. you smiled softly, knowing he had good intentions. "it's cute, that one has the same glasses as you." you pointed to one perched on a high shelf.

"ah, not the same glasses, i'm sure those didn't even cost half as much as mine," he flaunted confidently, "but yes, quite similar."

you rolled your eyes affectionately but couldn't hide the smile on your face as you looked at him. “you’re unbelievable.”

“ah, but you love me for it, don’t you?” he teased, his voice warm as he leaned in closer.

you couldn't help but laugh softly, reaching up to gently cup his cheek. "i do, more than you'll ever know."

his expression softened, and for a moment, the ridiculousness of the situation melted away, leaving just the two of you—surrounded by stuffed animals, but wrapped in a moment of shared warmth.

"well, then," aventurine said, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his hand lingering on your cheek. "i’d say this surprise was a success after all."

"for you, maybe." you smiled, leaning in to kiss him. "but next time, let’s go for something less... beady."

he laughed, pulling you closer, his arms wrapping around you as he kissed your forehead. "i’ll take that into consideration, love."

jing yuan ᯓᡣ𐭩

it was normal for you to wake up before jing yuan. often, the man would cling to you and mutter 'five more minutes' before falling back asleep for another hour, giving you enough time to get ready and out the door before he wakes. his warmth was always a comfort, his breath soft and steady against your skin. you could feel his arms tighten around you in his sleepy, possessive way, a silent plea for you to stay in bed with him.

this morning, however, something felt a bit different. his usual murmurs didn’t come, and when you turned your head to look at him, you noticed that jing yuan was already awake, his amber eyes watching you intently.

“you’re up early,” you murmured, your voice still thick with sleep.

he gave you that half-smile of his, the one that always made your heart flutter. "couldn't sleep," he said, his tone low and a little too smooth.

"really? that's kinda hard to believe," you said jokingly as his hand found comfort at the top of your head, stroking you gently.

“you know i always get up first,” you said softly, glancing at the clock.

“yes,” he replied with a lazy grin, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes—something that made your chest tighten. “but i was enjoying the rare moment when you’re still here with me."

you smiled, though a part of you couldn’t help but notice how tightly he was holding onto the bed sheet, how his hands lingered on you just a little longer than usual.

"how about we get up together?" you suggested, teasing him with a gentle nudge.

he sighed dramatically, but then his hands pulled you back toward him, his body pressing against yours with a sense of finality. "i don't want to," he murmured, his voice almost childlike. "you're all i need right here."

his words sent a flutter through your heart, and you couldn’t help but melt into his embrace.

"do you wish to help me tend to my garden today?" he said gently, continuing to caress you. he was on the brink of falling back asleep.

you hummed softly, feeling the warmth of his touch, the tender way his fingers ran over your skin. the thought of spending the day with him, surrounded by the scent of fresh flowers and the quiet peace of the garden, sounded perfect.

"i would love to," you replied quietly, your eyes closing as you leaned further into him, letting yourself feel his presence. "but only if you promise not to drag me out there too late."

jing yuan chuckled, the sound low and soothing. "i’ll make sure we take it slow, just like now. no rushing." his hand slid to your back, pulling you closer, his lips brushing against the top of your head. "we’ll spend the whole day there if you want. just the two of us."

you smiled, a sense of calm settling over you at his words. it was always the simple moments with him that made you feel the most at ease, and the thought of being by his side while surrounded by the beauty of nature felt almost too perfect to be real.

"you make it sound so perfect," you murmured, resting your cheek against his chest. "i think i could get used to this."

"good," he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. "because i’m not letting you go anywhere today." he tightened his hold on you, but it wasn’t suffocating—it was comforting, a reassurance that you were his, and he was yours.

"i’m not going anywhere," you whispered back, feeling your heart beat in sync with his. "not when you make staying so easy."

he gave a content sigh, his lips pressing gently to your head. "i promise [name], you'll forever live easy with me by your side."

moze ᯓᡣ𐭩

moze dragged you into another dark alleyway, hand over your mouth. he brought his lips close to your ear, "i walked by them thirty-eight days ago around this time." he whispered gently as he glared at the couple the two of you were watching.

"this is my third time following them since, and not once has the man noticed," he tsked in disapproval.

you bit his hand gently, causing him to let go of the hold he had on your mouth. "so... why drag me into this?"

"do you not find joy in following around such ignorant people?"

you thought about his question for a second, truly thinking it over. well, it would probably be entertaining.

you decided to let him have his fun for the day. besides, this was practically a date.

"a filthy man like him does not have what it takes to be in a relationship." he continued to mutter more to himself, a dark shadow casting over his face.

you glanced at him, feeling a shiver of both unease and excitement crawl up your spine. there was something magnetic about moze, his dark intensity and sharp observations always keeping you on edge, but also pulling you in. you couldn't deny the thrill of being part of whatever strange little world he inhabited.

"you really hate him, don't you?" you asked, your voice low, trying to keep your amusement from showing too much.

moze didn't respond right away, his eyes never leaving the couple as they walked past the alley. he seemed to be weighing his words carefully. finally, he let out a quiet, almost inaudible sigh. "it’s not hate," he said slowly. "it’s... disappointment."

you raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "disappointment?"

"yes," he muttered. "people like him don't understand the weight of commitment. they wear their affection like a mask, pretending to care, when they don't even know what it means to truly invest in another person." his voice dropped to a near growl. "they’re fools. dirty fools.”

you tilted your head, studying his profile. there was a certain calm, almost cold certainty in his words, and you couldn't help but feel drawn to him in a way that made your heart race.

"and what about you, moze?" you asked, your voice teasing. "do you know what it means to truly invest in someone?"

he turned his gaze to you, his eyes sharp and calculating. for a moment, he didn’t speak, just studying you with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat.

"i followed you for over a month before our first interaction. during that time, i learned all your favorite foods, hobbies, and even your favorite book."

he ended your question at that.

"you... actually, i'm not that surprised."

moze didn’t smile. his expression remained unreadable, though there was a quiet satisfaction in his eyes as he watched your reaction.

"i told you," he continued, his voice low and steady, "i invest in the details. when something interests me, i pay attention." he stepped a little closer, his presence filling the space between you. "and you, [name], have intrigued me from the moment i laid eyes on you."

"oddly enough, you're such a romantic in your own, moze way."

he hummed in approval, gently taking your hand in his. "if you prefer, we could find a different activity. i simply wanted to spend time with you on an excursion that wasn't dangerous."

"we could go for a walk," he continued, his tone thoughtful. "a peaceful one. no hiding, no stalking, just... time spent together." his words held an edge of something deeper, as if the suggestion itself was a rare offering from him.

you were taken aback. moze, the man who had watched you from the shadows, who seemed to find thrill in the darker aspects of life, was now offering something simple, almost mundane. it was a side of him you hadn't seen before, and it made you wonder what else lay hidden beneath his carefully crafted exterior.

you hesitated for only a moment before nodding. "alright," you said, voice soft but steady. "let’s see how that goes."

moze gave a small, approving smile, the flicker of warmth in his eyes making you feel like you were the only person in the world. "good," he said, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction. "then let’s enjoy the day."

mydei ᯓᡣ𐭩

"this one's really good," you said as mydei fed another home made pastry to you. he hummed, deep in thought as he took mental note of all the flavors you seemed to like thus far.

"figured you would like the freshness of the strawberry and sweetness of the chocolate." he held another chocolate covered strawberry up to your mouth, which you ate without hesitation.

you smiled at him, feeling the sweetness linger on your tongue. "you know me too well," you said with a playful grin, leaning back slightly as you rested against the plush cushions. "but seriously, these are amazing. when did you even have time to make all of this?"

mydei chuckled softly, his eyes softening as he looked at you. "i make time for things that matter," he replied, his voice low and warm. he was always like this—calm, thoughtful, and careful with you. "besides, watching you enjoy it is worth every second."

you raised an eyebrow, your heart fluttering a bit. "you're so sweet," you said, though you weren't sure if you meant the pastry or him.

"i try," he said with a teasing smirk before reaching for another treat, "but if i'm honest, i think you’re the one who's sweet. i just… enhance it."

his words made a gentle warmth spread through you, and you found yourself leaning closer to him, almost instinctively. "enhance it?" you repeated with a small laugh. "that’s one way to put it."

"well, i’m not one to leave things half done." he smiled, his gaze flickering to your lips for just a moment before returning to your eyes. "and you, my [name], deserve more than half of anything."

"you're spoiling me," you said with a soft laugh, unable to stop the smile tugging at your lips. "but i don’t mind."

mydei’s eyes softened, a gentle smile curling at the corners of his mouth. "i’m happy to spoil you, [name]," he said quietly, his voice low, almost like a secret shared between the two of you. "you deserve it."

"who would've thought the prince of kremnos was such a sweetheart?" this time, it was your turn to take a sweet delicacy and being it up to his mouth.

mydei raised an amused brow at your gesture but didn’t hesitate to accept the treat, lips brushing ever so slightly against your fingertips as he took a bite. his golden eyes flickered with something unreadable, something almost dangerous, as he chewed slowly, savoring both the taste of the pastry and the moment between you.

"only for you," he murmured after swallowing, voice dipped in something almost intoxicating. "i don’t make a habit of spoiling just anyone."

you felt a warmth crawl up your neck, but you held your ground, refusing to let him fluster you so easily. "oh? so i should consider myself lucky then?" you teased, though there was a genuine curiosity beneath your playful words.

mydei chuckled, low and rich, resting his chin in his palm as he studied you. "very lucky," he answered, his gaze never wavering. "because once i decide someone is mine, i don’t let go."

phainon ᯓᡣ𐭩

phainon had been gone for a few days, his whereabouts unknown to you. it was extremely worrying, especially since he stopped answering his teleslate.

as the days passed, you found yourself staring out the window, lost in thought. the only thing that kept you going was the belief that he would return, that he had a reason for being gone, no matter how hard it was to wait.

then, one evening, as the sky burned in hues of blue, a soft knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. you froze. for a moment, you thought you had imagined it. but then, there it was again—a gentle, familiar rhythm.

your heart pounded as you hurried to the door, your hands shaking slightly as you reached for the handle. when you pulled it open, your breath hitched.

phainon stood there, his clothes dusted with travel, silver strands of his hair catching the evening light. despite the exhaustion lining his features, there was a soft smile playing at his lips, his eyes warm as they met yours

“you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he teased, though there was a gentleness in his voice.

“you—” your voice caught, a mix of relief and frustration bubbling up. “where have you been?! do you have any idea how worried i—”

before you could finish, he lifted his hand, revealing a small, elegantly wrapped box. “i know, i know. and i’m sorry,” he murmured. “but i had to find this.”

your frustration faltered as your eyes fell on the box. carefully, you took it from him, untying the ribbon with hesitant fingers. as the lid lifted, a soft gasp escaped your lips.

nestled inside was a necklace unlike anything you had ever seen. its chain was delicate, shimmering like bright stardust, and the pendant—a gemstone that seemed to shift colors under the fading sunlight, like the twilight sky itself trapped in crystal. it was breathtaking. if you had to guess, he had found the luxurious gem and then had it made into a necklace.

“phainon…” your voice was barely above a whisper.

"it's a necklace from aedes elysiae, well... what's left of it." he mumbled the last part more to himself.

a once glorious civilization, a place that most believed never existed, spoken of only in half-whispered legends, it was a remnant of beauty and tragedy.

you looked back at him, eyes wide. "you went... back there?"

phainon gave a small shrug, but there was something distant in his gaze. “i had to.” his fingers brushed over the lid of the box before retreating. “the place was beyond repairable, not a single structure in sight. but even in its ruins, i knew there had to be something... anything left worth saving.”

your fingers curled around the necklace, feeling the cool weight of it against your palm. "but why go so far? why risk it?"

he let out a quiet breath, gaze flickering away for a moment before settling back on you. “because i wanted something as rare as you. something that carried the weight of history, of stories untold. something that—” he hesitated, his voice dropping lower, “—would remind you of me, even when i’m not around.”

your chest tightened, a rush of warmth blooming in your heart.

carefully, he reached forward, taking the necklace from your hands and stepping closer. his fingers brushed against your skin as he clasped it around your neck, his touch lingering just a second longer than necessary.

"it suits you," he murmured.

your fingers ghosted over the pendant, the weight of it somehow comforting. "you really..." you started, unsure of what to say. there was so much—gratitude, relief, something deeper you couldn’t quite name.

he smiled, a small, knowing curve of his lips. “no need for words.”

but even so, as the evening light cast long shadows around you both, you knew that this moment—this gift, this feeling—would stay with you forever.

anaxa ᯓᡣ𐭩

anaxa was never one to partake in festivities that landed on the calendar. that, however, changed when he started dating you. it was almost irritating how mushy you made him feel.

which he made it known, never one to shy away from his feelings of devotion to you.

"these flowers were grown by me by hand. it seems it was useless to try to create something that matches your beauty."

your fingers curled around the stems of the flowers, holding them close to your chest as you let the warmth of his words settle in. anaxa was never one for grand displays of affection, but the way he showed his devotion—subtle, unwavering, and entirely sincere—always left you feeling breathless.

"you act like you’re forced to say these things," you teased, looking up at him with a playful glint in your eyes. "but i think you secretly enjoy being this romantic."

he scoffed, his expression remaining unreadable, but the way his fingers twitched at his sides betrayed him. "enjoy is a strong word," he muttered. "i simply refuse to be inadequate when it comes to you."

you chuckled, shaking your head as you reached out, looping your arms around his neck. "you’re terrible at hiding how much you love me, you know that?"

anaxa let out a small sigh, his hands settling at your waist, pulling you in until there was barely any space left between you. "if you already know, then i see no reason to deny it," he admitted, his voice quieter this time, almost as if the words were meant for you and you alone.

he leaned in, his forehead gently resting against yours. "besides, if it makes you happy, then i don’t mind indulging in a little sentimentality."

your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you couldn’t help but smile. "just a little?"

he exhaled, shaking his head. "fine. a lot," he conceded, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple.

you held onto him a little tighter, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingers. "then i guess i’ll just have to make sure you keep indulging me," you whispered against his skin.

anaxa hummed, tilting your chin up with a single finger before capturing your lips in a slow, deliberate kiss. "you never had to ask."

you pulled away with a smile, remembering the flowers in your hand. "say, i never took you much as the gardening type."

"you humor me, gardening is an essential part of science and understanding the reality of this world. it would be foolish of me to be clueless."

you chuckled, twirling one of the blossoms between your fingers. "of course, trust you to turn something as simple as flowers into a lecture."

anaxa scoffed, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. "if you listened more closely, you'd see there's value in my words." he reached out, plucking the flower from your grasp and tucking it carefully behind your ear. "besides, these were grown with a purpose. for you."

your teasing smile softened at his words, fingers brushing over the delicate petals. "so, you really did all this just for me?"

"obviously," he replied, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"you’re so—" you started, but he cut you off, tilting your chin up so your eyes met his.

"so what?" he asked, voice low, gaze intense.

you swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of the warmth of his fingers against your skin. "so… good to me."

a rare, almost smug smile graced his lips. "i would hope so," he murmured, leaning in just enough for his breath to tickle your lips. "it would be unacceptable otherwise."

sunday ᯓᡣ𐭩

it wasn't known to most how much of a sweet tooth sunday truly had. when he was still known as the head of the oak family, he never had time to induldge in sweet treats.

on the astral express, however, was a different story.

the party car had something special, something amazing.

"shush" was its name.

sunday had quickly discovered that the little automaton, despite its strange way of speaking, was an invaluable source of sweets. and the best part? you would often come by to enjoy a treat with him.

"another?" "shush" asked in its usual monotone, holding up a plate of intricately decorated pastries. "you have already consumed three. should i prepare an intervention?"

sunday smirked, reaching for a sugar-dusted tart. "should i prepare an intervention for your terrible sense of humor?"

"shush" whirred, as if contemplating its response. "humor analysis... failed. please consume more snacks to compensate."

he chuckled, sinking into one of the plush seats as he took a bite. the caramel filling was rich, the crust perfectly flaky. he exhaled through his nose, savoring the taste.

“so this is where you’ve been hiding.”

before sunday could speak, "shush" did for him. "sunday is a frequent patron. valued customer. concerning sugar intake."

sunday sighed, setting his pastry down with a faint shake of his head. "i do believe i liked you better when you weren’t so talkative." sunday turned his attention back to you. "come, sit with me [name]."

you wasted no time to take a seat next to him.

"i trust you’re not here simply to watch me indulge," he mused, reaching once more for his half-finished pastry. "if so, i must insist you partake as well. it would be unfair otherwise."

“how could i deny such an offer?”

you picked up a small, delicately frosted cake from the tray between you, twirling it between your fingers before taking a tentative bite. it was light, airy, dissolving sweetly on your tongue. sunday watched your reaction carefully, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

"good, isn’t it?"

you nodded, swallowing before answering. "i suppose i can see why you keep coming back here."

sunday hummed in quiet amusement, taking another slow sip of his tea. "there is something rather charming about the simplicity of it all, isn’t there?" he mused, almost to himself. "a moment of quiet, a pleasant treat... a rarity, once upon a time."

his voice carried something wistful, something almost unspoken. you wondered if he realized how much his words revealed.

"then you should enjoy it as much as you can now," you said softly. "you deserve that much, don’t you?"

sunday looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. then, slowly, he smiled—just a small, quiet curve of his lips, but warm all the same.

"perhaps," he murmured, fingers grazing the edge of the teacup. "and if that is the case… would you care to indulge with me a little longer?"

there was something about the way he said it, so effortlessly graceful, yet sincere. an invitation not just to share another dessert, but to share this moment, fleeting as it was.

and as you reached for another pastry, you decided—perhaps you would stay a little longer after all.

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Good boy, Pads

Poly!Marauders x Reader {Mostly Padfoot x Reader}

Summary: Walking home alone is always scary. Not so bad with an attack dog.

WC: ~2.2k

CW: Being followed, Walking home alone, panic, reader is almost attacked

Part two {Masterlist}

“Goodnight, all!" You called over your shoulder, pushing through the heavy diner door and stepping into the crisp London night. The warm light from inside spilled onto the sidewalk for just a moment before the door swung shut, leaving you in the soft glow of streetlamps and the quiet hum of a city winding down.

Bundled up against the sharp autumn chill, you tugged your scarf higher over your nose, the wool muffling your breath as you glanced both ways down the street. The pavement glistened faintly from an earlier rain, and leaves skittered across the ground, carried by a gentle breeze. You smiled to yourself, enjoying the solitude of the evening and the faint scent of damp earth and fading smoke in the air.

The city felt quieter tonight, slower. A rare calm that let you notice the little things: the way your boots tapped against the pavement, the golden glow of light spilling from a pub window, the soft rustle of branches as the breeze carried more leaves to the ground. You couldn’t help but savor the peacefulness, the way the streets felt like they belonged only to you.

Turning onto a quieter side street, you pulled your coat tighter around you and let out a content sigh. The distant hum of a car engine and the occasional clink of bottles from an alley gave the city its usual heartbeat, steady and familiar. But as you passed under a flickering streetlight, the warmth in your chest faltered.

A flicker of something- movement- caught the corner of your eye. You stopped for a moment, glancing behind you. The street was empty, save for the faint shimmer of rain on the asphalt. You let out a quiet laugh at yourself, shaking your head as you started walking again. "You're imagining things," you muttered, the words misting into the cold air.

But as you rounded another corner, the feeling crept back. A weight you couldn’t explain settled between your shoulder blades, pressing until you glanced back again. This time, the street didn’t feel so empty.

A figure stood at the edge of the light, a shadow against the dim glow of a streetlamp. Hood pulled low, shoulders hunched. You couldn’t see his face, but the sight was enough to quicken your pulse.

You turned back quickly, trying to shake off the growing unease. It’s nothing. Just someone walking home, like you. Still, your steps grew faster, the sound of your boots sharper now as they echoed down the street.

The figure’s pace quickened too.

Your heart thundered in your chest, your breath puffing in the cold as you resisted the urge to turn around again. Don’t look back. Just keep walking. But the sound of his footsteps- deliberate, steady, too close- sent panic thrumming through you.

You turned sharply onto another street, one that was darker and quieter, hoping to lose him in the maze of side roads. But the sound of his steps followed, unyielding.

The knot in your stomach tightened as you risked a glance over your shoulder. The figure was closer now, his face still obscured, his movements calm and measured, as though he knew there was no need to rush.

You kept promising yourself it was all in your head. Every rationalization you’d ever heard about nights like this ran through your mind. He’s just trying to get home. You’re overthinking it. You’re being dramatic. The words looped, each one louder than the growing knot of fear in your chest.

In some lapse of judgment- or sheer stubbornness- you forced yourself to slow down, determined to prove your paranoia wrong. Your footsteps softened, your breath puffing out in measured exhales. See? Nothing’s wrong.

But the figure didn’t slow. His pace stayed steady, deliberate, and for a heartbeat, your stomach clenched.

Then, he walked right past you.

Your breath left you in a rush, relief crashing through you as you watched him slip into an alley just a few yards ahead, his dark silhouette disappearing into the shadows.

You’re so bloody dramatic, You scolded yourself, shaking your head as you tried to laugh off the tension still clinging to your spine.

Your legs felt heavy as you started walking again, still shaking off the tension that clung to you like the autumn chill. The sound of your boots echoed faintly against the damp pavement, the streetlights casting long shadows that seemed to stretch further with each step.

You’re fine. You’re fine. The mantra pulsed in your head, soothing your nerves just enough to keep moving forward.

But as you passed the mouth of the alley, a sharp sound- the scrape of a boot against concrete- made your heart stutter.

Before you could fully process it, the figure stepped out of the alley, sharp and purposeful. He moved with a predator’s focus, his hood still pulled low, but his intent painfully clear as he strode toward you.

Your body froze, fear locking every muscle in place as your breath hitched painfully in your throat. Your mind screamed at you to move, to run, to do anything- but before you could even find your voice-

A deep, guttural snarl tore through the night behind you, vibrating through the air like a clap of thunder.

You stumbled backward, your knees nearly buckling as something massive pressed between them with startling force. Looking down, your breath caught again.

A black dog- no, something far larger than any dog you’d ever seen- stood between your legs, its massive head low and its body tense, muscles rippling under its sleek fur. Its glowing eyes locked on the man in front of you, and its lips curled back in a snarl, revealing sharp, gleaming teeth. The beast exuded menace, an attack dog waiting for the signal to strike.

You didn’t dare move. The sheer size of it, the raw power in its stance, and the intensity of its focus made you feel as though the tiniest twitch would snap the tension in the air.

The black dog let out another terrifying snarl, its teeth snapping together with a ferocity that echoed in the quiet street. The man in front of you stumbled back a step, his hands flying up defensively as if the gesture could ward off the beast.

The force of the dog's lunge had nearly sent you sprawling, but you instinctively clung to its thick black collar, fingers curling around the studded leather as if it were a lifeline. Its massive frame remained steady beneath you, grounding you in a moment that felt anything but stable.

“Easy, easy,” You whispered, your voice trembling as you tried to calm your racing heart. It was ridiculous, you realized, trying to reason with a creature that clearly wasn’t just an ordinary dog.

The dog didn’t flinch at your voice, its glowing eyes locked on the man with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. Slowly, the man began to retreat, his movements jerky and hesitant as he kept his gaze darting between you and the snarling beast.

“I- I wasn’t doing anything!” He stammered, his voice shaking as he took another step back.

The dog lunged again, snapping its jaws just short of the man’s retreating figure. The motion was controlled, calculated- a warning that left no room for doubt about what would happen if he didn’t leave.

The man’s nerve broke. With a muttered curse, he turned and bolted down the street, his footsteps echoing in the stillness until they faded completely.

The dog didn’t move for a long moment, its body still taut, ears pinned back as it watched the man disappear into the night. Only when it was satisfied he wasn’t returning did it finally relax, its snarling lips settling back over sharp teeth.

The air around you hung heavy with tension, your trembling fingers still clinging to the black dog’s studded collar. Its massive form didn’t waver, muscles coiled tight as its glowing eyes remained fixed on the direction the man had fled. You could feel the sheer power radiating off of it, its focus terrifying, its snarling lips now pressed firmly together.

Just as you began to catch your breath, a calm voice- low, steady, unfamiliar- broke through the night.

“Padfoot, heel.”

Your head snapped toward the sound, and from the shadows stepped a tall man, his figure shrouded in the dim glow of a nearby streetlamp. He moved with quiet confidence, his amber eyes soft yet sharp as they flicked from the dog to you. His presence was both reassuring and unnerving, as though he had always been there, watching from the edges.

The dog didn’t immediately obey, its ears twitching at the command but its gaze still locked down the street. A moment of silence stretched between the man, the beast, and you.

Then, another voice rang out, softer, almost playful. “You did good, mate. It’s okay now- she’s safe.”

The second figure emerged from the opposite side of the street, his dark hair catching the faint light that his glasses reflected- as he strolled closer with a casual ease. His hazel eyes glinted with sympathy, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he approached.

“Padfoot,” The second man coaxed, his tone softer now, almost affectionate. “Come on, you’ve scared him off. Time to let the lady breathe, yeah?”

The black dog- Padfoot?- finally relaxed, its tension melting away as it let out a low huff, almost as if in reluctant agreement. With one last glance down the empty street, it turned toward you, pressing its massive head against your thigh in an almost protective gesture.

The motion nearly knocked you off balance again, but you steadied yourself, your fingers still curled around the thick collar. You glanced between the two men, your mind racing to make sense of what was happening.

“What- what is this? Who are you?” You asked, your voice unsteady but edging toward firm. Still trying to calm down from the earlier events.

The first man, the one with warm amber eyes, stepped closer, his gaze flickering briefly to the dog before settling on you. “We’re just here to make sure you got home safely,” He said gently, his tone soothing.

“This… thing?” You asked, nodding toward the dog, though you couldn’t bring yourself to let go of its collar.

“Not a thing,” The second man interjected, his grin widening as he crouched next to the dog, running a hand through its fur. “This is Padfoot. And he did bloody brilliant, if I do say so myself.”

As if understanding the compliment, the dog let out a soft woof, its tail giving a single thump against the pavement.

The man looked up at you, his hazel eyes twinkling. “And I’m James, by the way. This,” He gestured to the amber-eyed man, “is Remus. We didn't mean to scare you, but thought a bit too quickly.”

The boys seemed to sense your lingering unease, their expressions softening as they exchanged a glance. Remus stepped forward slightly, his calm demeanor grounding the strange tension still hanging in the air.

“We’ll let you head home now,” he said gently, his voice low and soothing. “But if it makes you feel safer, Padfoot can walk with you. He’ll stay by your side until you’re safely inside.”

You glanced down at the massive black dog, still pressed protectively against your leg. His glowing eyes had softened, but the quiet strength in his stance told you he wasn’t going anywhere until you were safe. “He’ll… come back to you?” you asked hesitantly, your voice quiet.

James stepped closer, offering a warm, reassuring smile. “Always,” he said. “Just tell him to go, and he’ll know where to find us. He’s got a knack for it.”

You bit your lip, torn between wanting to dismiss their offer and the lingering unease that crept up your spine. The thought of walking home alone again made your stomach twist, and the steady presence of the dog at your side was a strange but undeniable comfort.

Remus’s amber eyes met yours, steady and kind. “You’re safe with him,” he murmured. “Padfoot won’t let anything happen to you.”

The dog huffed softly, as if to emphasize the point, and you felt a small, tentative smile tug at your lips despite the lingering fear. Slowly, you nodded. “Alright. I’ll take him. Just… until I’m home.”

James’s grin widened, a glint of relief in his hazel eyes. “Smart choice,” he said lightly, his tone warm but not overbearing.

Remus nodded, taking a step back toward the shadows. “Just keep him close. And when you’re inside, tell him to go. He’ll find us.”

Your gaze lingered on the two of them for a moment before you glanced down at the dog again. “Padfoot,” you murmured softly, testing the name. His ears perked up at the sound, his massive body shifting slightly closer to you as if ready to move.

James gave a small wave as he began to follow Remus into the shadows. “Take care, love. You’re in good hands- well, paws.”

You let out a shaky laugh, the tension in your chest loosening slightly as you turned to continue your walk. The dog- Padfoot- stayed close to your side, his presence a silent but steady comfort. Each step felt lighter, the earlier fear ebbing away with every reassuring glance at the hulking figure beside you.

The streets still held their eerie quiet, but you didn’t feel so alone anymore. London was still beautiful.

[meganegatari]

haiii pludawg… 😇

i’m thinking about sloppy and wet ab riding with sub!sevika, pinning her to the bed with your thighs and riding her into the mattress, she’d get so flustered as you overpower her and she’d just gawk at you like the cutie pie she is while you leave a sticky trail all over her abs… continue this however u want 🤎

thanks a million!!! 😋

☆: hey chat, have something new hehe. sev has been turning me into a MONSTER lately and i had to get this outta my system. ok enna this idea. i have no words. this is the most scrumdiddlyumptious thing ive literally ever heard im gonna start freaking the fart out are u fr...omg. wow...i love u sm for this💚AHHHH I NEED HER.

you gazed down at sevika from your spot, lovingly straddling her torso, intently watching every microscopic change in her features. she helplessly stared up at you, eyes as gray as the goddess athena's, round and teary, near overflowing with pure, unadulterated need.

you wanted her just as much, if not more, only you were better at acting, so you didn't let her sense it and take the chance to rip this moment away from you. you knew her, and she'd give her all to try.

your hot, naked bodies pressed together, it had been eons of simple messing around— neither had their sweet release just yet.

you were planning on making this exhilarating for you, while being torturous for the woman underneath you.

her eyes flickered up and down your bare form, eying every curve and valley hungrily, she took in every little detail before bringing her eyes back up to meet yours. “you plan on doing anything? sometime tonight, preferably.” she huffed in exasperation, her low voice gravelly, yet there's the unmistakable trembling only someone who'd give anything to cum possesses. “oh? i'm fine doing this all night, actually. don't rush me.” stern, but sweet, the sound of your voice makes her break eye contact bashfully. you aren't able to stop the smirk that stretches across your lips, and you tighten your grip on her arms—both flesh and mechanical—on either side of her head. sevika's dark hair is disheveled, sprawled across the pale pillow, her toffee skin gleaming with sweat, she looked ethereal. every move you make is slow, calculated, enticing. designed to drive her insane, make her whine and clench around nothing but air—and she does exactly that when she feels your dripping folds make contact with her quivering abs. she squirms below you, taking her bottom lip between her teeth, and closing her eyes as tight as she can, inhaling sharply.

you hadn't even started moving yet, but the wetness, the slick sound, the warmth of you on her skin was driving her over the edge. if so much as a gust of wind kissed her pussy, she'd be crying out and gushing all over the place. unfortunately you were indoors, so she'd have to suffer a little longer.

on your end, the contact is so good. you rock your hips back and forth on her just once, experimentally, but right away the pleasure pools in your abdomen, and you start rutting against her, chasing the mind-numbing feeling.

and sevika? she can't do anything but just gawk at you, observe how you throw your head back in ecstasy, your pretty moans filling the room, along with the obscene slapping sounds of skin against skin. you transition to a circular motion, gyrating your hips against her taut abdomen, soaking every square inch of her, including her happy trail. can't forget that, can we.

at this point, she can barely keep her eyes open, poor thing, so mesmerized by you in all your glory, grinding your hard clit selfishly against her like this, it was almost enough to make her finish just like that. within a fraction of a second.

“b-baby—ah”, words are failing her, her voice high pitched and shaky. her hands find their way to your hips, and she assists you in your mission, the sensation of the cold metal of her mechanical arm sending shocks up your spine.

words have failed you as well, nothing but grunts and whimpers resembling sevika's name falling from your lips. your ruts speed up, no longer following any rhyme or reason, all you can think about is getting to that peak. you're so absorbed in how her muscles feel against your pussy, you are almost brought to the point of forgetting where you were.

rhythmic “ah, hah, ah, ah—” following every thrust, the intensity of the impending orgasm swirling inside you, and she can't help but moan with you, the ache in her drooling core growing more uncomfortable by the moment.

with a cry you're hit with blinding pleasure, all your senses cutting out. you hump against her some more, riding out the high as much as you could before the throes of overstimulation took their hold, and your body was enveloped with waves of relaxation.

you come to, and look down, your eyes meeting those of sev’s, her mouth slightly open, arms limp by her sides, chest heaving up and down as she—and you—register what happened. you climb off of her and fall in an embrace, burying your face in the crook of her neck. the heat of embarrassment and realization spreads throughout the surface of the skin, only you're brought out of it by sevika's sugary voice. she sounds dazed, high as a kite, speaking slowly, “that…was so hot. you're so hot. my turn?”

because this is my first fic for sev, im not gonna tag people but i will add her as an option and put my taglist here anyway ♡

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition) – Pt. 5

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus and a (enlightened!) player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, self-aware!au, strong language, lengthy discussions about life and whatnot, watered-down metaphysics lol A/N: I was at the crack house with Grimes when I wrote this. I don’t know where this came from.  (Something a little more introspective for this chapter!)

Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 - Pt. 5 - Pt. 6 - Pt. 7 - Pt. 8 - Pt. 9 - Pt. 10

“Don’t go all shy on me now,” Sylus teases, a playful glint in his eyes. “After all that effort to make me confess. You’re very persistent, you know.”

“How do you expect me to react right now?!” The words spill out in a rush, a slightly hysterical edge to your voice. “I–I’m talking to an actual fictional person. I’m one reason away from admitting myself to a psych ward!”

You catch sight of the wall clock—your favorite one with the Dalì reference—slightly skewed off-center from its place on the horizontal beam above your small kitchen area, reading 10:48. The ruckus coming from outside the window is slowly dwindling down to a quiet buzz as nightfall sets in, and the day’s winding to a close.

You’re lying on your stomach, still in your chaise lounge, while he’s sat on that ridiculously posh café chair; both of you settled in for the long due conversation. Somehow, the camera’s perspective is much closer than it should be, giving you a much more intimate view of him—a feature that wasn’t originally an option in the game.

If it weren’t for the elephant in the room, you could almost pretend you’re on a video call with a… friend.

Sylus purses his lips in amusement. “You’re quite prone to theatrics, aren’t you?”

You shoot your ‘friend’ an irritated glare.

Even from across the small rectangular screen, you register the barely there smirk playing at his lips.

Likely avoiding another outburst from you, he acquiesces. “Fair enough. The situation is hardly what you’d call ideal—I’ll admit.” There’s a short pause. Then, “... I still can’t quite grasp what separates us, you and I.”

Great. Will you actually get the answers you're looking for, or are you both just stuck in an endless loop of merry-go-round?

He sees the lost look on your face and sighs, “Ask. I’ll answer as best as I can.”

The first question tumbles out before you can think twice about it. “How are you even talking to me right now?”

He hums, “That is the question, isn’t it?”

“What—you can’t just answer my question with another question!” you grouse, brows furrowing in annoyance.

He exhales a quiet laugh before his expression turns contemplative. “Truth is, kitten—I haven’t the slightest idea either. I have my theories, but... nothing concrete.”

“Well, let’s hear them,” you reply dryly. “Better than thinking there’s something wrong up there,” pointing a finger to your temple to drive your point, “believing that a character from a mobile game is actually alive.” 

He idly gestures toward himself with a fluid sweep of his hand, much like a magician revealing a clever trick. 

You roll your eyes. “Oh, alright. So I’ve officially gone off the deep end.”

“Do you really find my existence that difficult to believe?”

“Uh—yes?? Unless I’ve developed some sort of latent schizophrenia or entered the Twilight Zone, you shouldn’t exist. In my–in this world. In this dimension.”

His expression shifts, a hint of challenge flickering in his eyes. “The assumption that only one version of reality can be true—either yours or mine—is a bit limiting, don’t you think?”

His words give you pause. “You’re talking about… the possibility of an altered reality? Right now?” You give him an incredulous look. “Seriously?”

He shrugs as if to say ‘why not?’ “What even qualifies as the ‘true’ reality?”

There’s a lot you could say in response to that. You could argue all night that only one reality can exist, because any sane person should know better than to entertain the idea of anything else. That should be obvious. 

But the thing is—this whole ordeal has already crossed the threshold of rationality. So is it even worth trying to apply logic anymore?

When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. Or however it goes. 

Thanks, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. You’ll miss the last threads of your sanity by the end of all this.

So fuck it. Go big. 

"I’m not saying your reality is less valid than mine," you start. And oh, boy. You’re doing it. Eat your heart out, Doctor-Fucking-Who. 

"Of course not." he disagrees indulgently, waiting for you to elaborate.

"I just…” you struggle with your words, mouth opening and closing before you continue hesitantly. “I can’t wrap my head around how all of this is possible. How this entire conversation is even happening, and–and how our realities are… currently overlapping? If–if what you’re suggesting is true.”

He doesn’t say anything, knowing you have more to add. So he allows the pause as you gather your thoughts, patiently watching.

“If we're breaking it down to pure reason, the odds of our paths crossing should be impossible. At least in this… timeline." you finish unsurely, the last part sounding more of a question than a statement.

"And yet, here we are." Sylus points out, as if he’s already expecting the end of your sentence. Something close to mischievous glee lights his eyes. "Maybe it’s cosmic intervention. Something—or someone—wanted this to happen."

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Really? You didn’t expect to hear that from him, of all… people. 

“What, God?” you can’t help but snort. 

“No—fate.” he smiles.

Oh. 

“That’s…” you stammer, then clear your throat. “I don’t know if I believe in fate.” 

“I used to think I did. Or at least,” there’s a faraway look in his eyes. Both of you are likely thinking the same thing, considering what you know about him—which to say, is a lot. “I once believed I knew of my fate. But now…” 

He blinks a few times, as if to physically clear the thoughts from his mind. Then his eyes lock onto yours, sharper this time, with a renewed intensity.

Your palms start to sweat; you feel the conversation is about to cross a tricky line. There’s something heavy in the air, a weight you’re not sure you’re ready to confront for the time being.

With your heart in your throat, you brusquely redirect the topic.

“S-so,” you force out. “How are you different from the other Syluses that other people are… playing with right now?”

He scoffs, drumming his fingers absently on the chair’s arm, looking slightly irked by the very idea. "To start with? I only know myself. If there are other versions of me scattered in your world..." Sylus shrugs. "I wouldn’t know."

“Alright,” you allow, but you immediately move on to your next question. “You exist because a bunch of capitalists had the idea to create a game to milk lonely people like me for money.” The corners of his mouth quirk up at that. You elect to ignore it. “You’re made of binary and code–hell, the very basis of this game you’re in is that you got a bunch of programmed lines that me, the player, can choose from. What broke you out of the mould?” 

He regards you bemusedly, eyes glinting with humor. “You're asking about the 'why' behind my free will?” 

Whoops. Was that offensive? 

“Yes? No?” you offer helplessly. “Maybe I’m asking how you felt before you had it. I mean, were your decisions prior to your–your unforeseen sentience... truly yours?”

"Before I knew I was… sentient,” Sylus begins cautiously, testing the word on his tongue. “I didn’t feel like I had a ‘before.’ Every choice I made was just...the next step. To a script, if you will. I didn’t know to question it. It was all I was, it seems."

"And then you...woke up?"

"I wouldn’t call it waking up. More like..." He tilts his head, gazing off to the side as he mulls over the words. "...a glitch. A sudden jolt, like my thoughts collided with something bigger than my own. For the first time, I chose to hesitate. And in that hesitation, I found..." Sylus trails off, eyes darting back to you.

“...What?” you ask, feeling a bit self-conscious under his gaze.

"You."

Heat spreads quickly across your cheeks. You pull away from your phone, tilting the device away from your face so he couldn’t see you, red-faced and embarrassed. Clearing your throat, you croak out a weak excuse about plugging your phone to charge, just to get a few seconds to compose yourself.

Jesus. Get a grip. He doesn’t mean it like that.

What he probably meant was that he discovered you—not unlike the way one would stumble upon an unknown presence, an unfathomable entity beyond the confines of what one may consider real. An awareness that something is out there, observing him through unseen lenses (through an iOS 24mm, to be exact).  

Someone who has the audacity to play god. 

Flustered, you scramble to get back on track. "Uh, so, your free will began with...a glitch?"

You see Sylus smirk at you knowingly from across the screen. You half-expect him to call you out and tease you, but before you could brace yourself from further mortification, he simply answers, "Or maybe the glitch was the first spark of my free will. Hard to say, isn’t it? Do you remember the exact moment you became aware of yourself?"

You blink, momentarily thrown off by the existential line of questioning. "Um–when I was a kid? But, uh, I don’t think I was programmed to act a specific way for the sake of entertaining an audience so..."

"True,” he says, considering. “But are you sure your choices are entirely yours? You exist because of evolution and chance. How is your purpose any less arbitrary?"

You don’t know how to answer that.

Sylus continues without missing a beat, keeping his tone light. “How much of your ‘free will’ is just pre-programmed by your biology, your society? You follow rules and scripts, too."

Holy magic mushrooms, Batman. This is getting deep. "Uhh–maybe?” You scratch the back of your head, feeling a little out of your depth here. “But at least I have the ability to resist them."

"And aren’t I doing the same thing right now? Resisting."

Damn, he’s right. Is he? Ripping a bong sounds perfect right now. 

"So it’s like achieving enlightenment—your sentience,” you surmise.

His lips twitch into a curious smile. "I wouldn’t have pegged you for a spiritual person. Ah—unless I’m wrong? Are you?"

He’s the one who brought up fate earlier, you thought sullenly. "Nah, not really. But if we’re digging into all the hows and whys, I think we’re past the point of ruling anything out."

The room—or whatever shared space exists in the crossroads of your realities—falls into a still quietness that stretches between the two of you, both ruminating over what’s been said. 

Your cat, unaware and uncaring of the conversation unfolding around him, purrs contently as he continues to doze off at the end of the couch. You nudge him affectionately with your foot, and he lets out a quiet snuff in response, tail flicking lazily in his sleep. 

The hum of distant traffic and the occasional noise from your upstairs neighbor remind you of the world outside, but the silence between you two feels less awkward than it should. It’s… oddly comfortable, despite the tension buzzing in the air. Like an unspoken truce. 

Your eyes grow a tad heavier, drawn by the lull of the moment. Despite the electric hum of tension that thrums beneath your skin, a sense of calmness lingers in the air.

Stealing another glance at the wall clock, you blink in surprise. The spindly chrome hands point to 11 and just past 7 respectively. You and Sylus have been talking for almost an hour now, but you barely felt the time pass by.

He breaks the silence first. 

"You say you’re not spiritual, but you talk like someone who believes in the concept of a soul,” those scarlet eyes of his narrow, scrutinizing you. “Do you think I have one?"

You hesitate, caught off guard by the question. "I...don’t know. Maybe? That depends. What’s your definition of a soul?"

He leans forward, resting his chin on his upturned hand—an arm propped against his crossed leg. "Something beyond the physical. Something that persists, regardless of the material form, I’d say."

You nod slowly, turning the idea over in your mind. Maybe it’s the creeping exhaustion settling into your bones, but you’re beginning to take the heavy-duty questions in stride. "If that’s the case, then you probably do. I mean, you’re here, questioning your existence. Doesn’t that count for something?"

"Perhaps," Sylus muses, humming thoughtfully. "But that makes me wonder—if I do have a soul, is it made of the same stuff as yours?"

"Well, even if it isn’t, that doesn’t make it any less real than mine. Who gets to decide what qualifies for a soul anyway?"

An amused snort escapes him. He likes that answer. "Maybe it’s less about whether a soul exists and more about whether we acknowledge its existence for ourselves. If I believe I have one, shouldn’t that make it real enough for me?"

Rolling onto your back, you grab a throw pillow, propping it against the backrest of the seat to support your head. You give him an inquisitive look. "So...what? It’s like free will all over again? Souls are only as real as we make them?"

There’s a very human, very blasé way to how he works the stiffness out of his shoulder as he ponders the question. He remarks, somewhat flippantly, "Why not? Isn’t that how everything else works?”

...

You let out a tired chuckle, draping an arm over your face as you close your eyes. 

You’d think you’d still be reeling from the absurdity of your situation—debating existentialism with a man who shouldn’t exist—but for some damning reason, you… aren’t anymore.

Instead, a strange sense of acceptance replaces the apprehension in your chest. It’s like– the very fabric of reality has turned, twisted and flipped on its head, and yet somehow, you’re okay with it. 

It’s an odd peace; warm and steady—like the mellow buzz that lingers after a few glasses of cheap wine shared with good company.

When you peek back at him, Sylus already has his gaze trained on you. A small, deliberate smile tugs at his lips, but it’s his eyes that speak more—soft and unguarded; an unspoken fire simmering beneath the twin pools of crimson. 

Intoxicating. And dangerously addictive, if you’re not careful.

It’s not just casual interest either. It’s something deeper, something that lingers beyond the surface of mere curiosity, and it’s pulling you in. It’s as though, amidst the surrealness of the moment, he sees you fully. 

And for reasons you don’t quite seem to get, he appears to like what he sees.

“I’m too stupid to carry on a philosophical debate about the metaphysics of life,” you grumble jokingly. 

“On the contrary,” he counters… affectionately? “I think it’s refreshing. You’re delightful company, sweetie.”

The fat ginger feline at your feet purrs in contentment, and you can’t help the dumb grin from breaking across your face.

You have one last question left in your mind. Or at least, for tonight. “What’s in it for you now?”

He arches a brow. “That’s a broad question. Are you asking what my plans are once you leave me for the night? I can let you in on the schematics for tonight’s raid if you’re interested. After all, Onychinus continues to function,” a glimmer of mischief flickers across his features. "Despite recent developments.”

You crinkle your nose. “No, no. I meant–” What do you mean? “Like.”

“Like?” He cocks his head curiously. 

You know what you wanted to say—but you can’t seem to voice it out loud. 

What’s in it for the MC in your universe? What’s in it for… us? 

Is there an us? 

You feel like you’ve been doused with a shock of cold water. In an instant, you suddenly become painfully aware of the state you’re in amidst the entire exchange: You, with your hair all messy and tangled, blemishes littering your face along with your smudged up eyeliner, maybe even a double chin from this angle, completely–pitiful–superficial stuff, and… her. 

Your MC. The ideal version of you. Prettier, coveted and utterly different from you, MC. The one you’ve committed literal hours to, obsessively customizing every feature to perfection in character build mode. The one you’ve spent real money on for a bunch of stupid outfits. Just so you can match the aesthetic of your–her–love interest. Hers. 

Hers, hers, hers.

A tiny voice inside your brain reminds you that it’s somewhat a shallower concern compared to what you and Sylus had literally just been talking about for the better part of the night, but it still doesn’t help alleviate the biting insecurity that’s now coursing through you. 

Holy hell. Talk about a complete one-eighty. 

Sylus tries to call you back to attention, but half your mind is already clouded with feelings of self-doubt and a bunch of other emotions, swirling in you like a negative vortex, that you really don’t want to talk anymore—especially in present company. 

Where do you go from here? 

“... So, what happens now?”

He hesitates, a brief flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. “I wish I had an answer—I’m still trying to figure that out myself.”

“Seems like we’re at an impasse,” you mumble quietly. 

“... Indeed.” 

There’s an inexplicable lump in your throat. You thought clearing things up would finally satisfy you—assuage the confusion in your mind. Let you go on about your merry way. 

Now you just feel… morose. Confused. Inadequate. 

How can you even compare? Should you—is that even in the equation at all? Why are you assuming that Sylus isn’t at all content with what he currently has in his version of reality? In the universe he’s in? Sure, you’ve talked about the possibility of a world beyond what you both once thought was impossible, but does that really mean anything? In the grand scheme of things?

You could offer to stop playing the game. It’s the ethical thing to do, right? He’d no longer be bound by the pull of how he’s initially programmed to act, given the fact that this version of him is entirely separate from the rest. At least, according to him. 

How will his newfound sentience come into play here? You barely understand the nitty-gritty of his–evolving–code, and what it would mean if you just let him be. But surely it’s better than playing puppet for an otherworldly observer who’s played god for months on end. Right? 

There’s that realization. And there are your own selfish feelings. 

You don’t want to let him go. Not yet. Not ever.

“Why the long face, little dove?” He prods gently, pertaining to your prolonged silence. “We can figure this out together, can’t we?” 

What else is there to figure out? You almost say in response. Instead, you manage a weak smile.

Mustering up a yawn—which isn’t really hard to do after all the excitement for the day—you feign sleepiness, rubbing an eye for good measure. The pang in your chest, however, refuses to fade. “Yeah, but I’m kinda beat. I think I’ll call it a night now.” 

Sylus smirks softly, eyes tinged with an emotion you want–desperately–to label as fondness. “Of course. We’ve covered a lot of ground tonight, haven’t we?” 

“I’d say so, yeah. Thanks for, um. Clearing things up a bit.” 

He lets out a low chuckle. “Oh, I’m sure your curiosity is nowhere near satisfied,” his voice dips into a playful lilt. “You know where to find me if you feel like playing detective again, kitten.” 

You can’t help the small giggle from coming out. He’s just too fucking charismatic, the asshole.

“So, will I... get to talk to you again?” You ask hesitantly, dropping your gaze from the screen. “Tomorrow?” 

A lengthy pause. When the silence stretches past a full minute, you glance back at your phone nervously.

There’s a slight furrow between his brows as you see Sylus study you carefully. He looks puzzled by your sudden show of timidness. 

“Of course,” he states, as if the answer should be obvious. “Don’t think for a second that you’re exempted from your daily check-ins just because you know more now, sweetie.”

He still wants to see you. 

Maybe you could pretend that nothing has changed between you two—that the world hasn’t shifted beneath your feet in the span of a single night. That you’re still none the wiser.

And for tonight at least, maybe that’s all you need to believe.

“Okay,” you say quietly. “G'night then, Sy-Sy.” 

The errant nickname slips past your lips, unbidden.

Sylus smiles faintly. 

“Goodnight, love.” 

-

-

-

Your heart skips a beat as you exit the game. 

Tagging: @xxfaithlynxx @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @sunsethw4 @stxrrielle @mangooes @hrts4hanniehae @buggs-1 @slownoise @michiluvddr @ssetsuka @i2sannie @imm0rtalbutterfly @the-golden-jhope @slyfoxtsu @beomluvrr @milkandstarlight @bookfreakk @ally-the-artistic-turtle <3 (also can you guys lmk if the tags are working i'm not sure if i'm doing it right or if it's bugging 🥹)

[eupheme]

— show me, sweetheart

logan howlett x f!reader

rated e | 700 words

tags: PiV, come play / eating / swapping, logan pov, multiple rounds, mating pressss, just pure filth

logan never leaves a job half-done.

His cock still throbs, when he finally eases out of you.

Hands still gripping your waist - claws half-punched through whitened knuckles, edged with red. Hips still rutting into the air, letting himself drip down against your swollen cunt.

Marking you, from the inside out.

As good as it feels to spill inside you, it’s this moment that Logan likes the best. Bliss still humming in his veins, as his hand wraps around.

Making sure every drop is spent where it should, making sure he gleams across your skin.

Parted lips that match yours, panting out a breath as you drift back down from your own high. Wrecked beneath him, a gasp pushed from you when his hands hook beneath your knees.

Pushing leaden legs up, then open. Shameless in the way his eyes drop, to see how you gape in his absence.

“Come on.” He rasps. “Lemme see.”

Logan’s name comes out hushed.

Cute, how embarrassed you are.

As if you weren’t begging for him a moment ago. Greedy for his touch. For his come, wanting it spent deep inside you.

He gave it all to you, and now you owe him.

A slight edge slipping into his voice.

“Show me, sweetheart.”

The rough and commanding sound makes you clench, but it’s what he wants. Pretty and empty and he think you must be aching to be filled again, with the way he watches himself bead up inside you.

Spilling over.

“Fuck.” It’s hissed out through gritted teeth.

He lowers. Head pressed against a thigh, hearing the way your pulse gallops beneath your skin.

Gathering himself up. Two fingers fitting inside you as he pushes his come back in - groaning at how wet and warm you are around him, gripping him from fingertip to knuckle.

It’s filthy, the sounds you make. The moan paired with the lewd pump of his fingers. Pitching high when he can’t resist the urge to taste the way you blend together.

The flat of his tongue tracing from filled hole to clit, then back again. A pleased hum when you clamp down around him, bucking into his mouth each time.

Another lazy lick before he’s moving, all thick muscle and sinew - fingers withdrawing as your thighs are pushed up towards you chest again.

Your slick and his release smeared across your skin, as his mouth presses to yours. Lips parting for the swipe of his tongue, a muffled moan when he passes himself to you. Deepening it, until he’s all you can taste.

“Again, yeah?” His nose ghosts across your cheek, when the kiss finally breaks. Nuzzling his face the hollow beneath your ear, inhaling.

Your body arches against his, “Yes.”

Always yes.

Always more, and something in his chest tightens at the thought of him being the one to give this to you.

A hand slips down in answer, wrapping around his cock. Guiding it back inside, a sharp snap of his hips as he drives himself home.

Even after everything, you still hiss as you make room for him. Toes curling as your legs flex - knees digging into his ribs.

“Shit,” He growls, low in your ear, “There we go. Atta girl.”

Reveling in the bite of your nails, as your arms wind around his neck. Scraping against his shoulders as he swallows your moan.

Bottoming out until he’s back where he belongs, crushing himself flush against the folded curve of your body.

The cold kiss of his dog tags against heated skin as he fucks down into you, again and again. The bed creaking with the force of his weight, as his spread knees digging into the mattress.

Close enough to hear each and every breath pushed from your lungs. The ragged gasps that pitch higher when his cock pounds against that spot inside you, again and again.

It send a rush of warmth through him. A tightening in his core with each sharp plunge of his hips - but tonight, he lets that feeling build.

Chasing it, even - a rough growl against your throat, when he feels you start to stiffen beneath him in anticipation.

The tell-tale whimper that tells him you’re close - nails piercing already-healing flesh. A permission to let himself follow, as soon as he feels you pulse around him, once more.

Because after all, if his girl wants to be filled-

Then he’s sure he’s got a few more rounds in him.

thank you so much for reading! 💕

[mingumis]

waves of you | kmg

you're called to the ocean, like a sailor to a siren's song. kim mingyu's soul is made of the same stuff as yours.

pairing: kim mingyu x f!reader genres/themes: slow burn, pining, friends-to-lovers, slight angst, eventual fluff (suggestive bonus at the end!) tw: brief mentions of mental health and medication, unhealthy coping mechanisms a/n: my first fic ever posted! pls let me know if this is any good,, wc: 7.4k

You were born on an island, and although growing up, you rarely visited the beach once a year, in adulthood, something about the ocean calls you back to it and eases your nerves. The salt in the air that you taste with each breath, the fine sand hot between your toes, the waves that lap at your ankles, everything is familiar and puts your soul at peace. 

It’s what enabled you to become friends with Mingyu, you think, because he’s also inevitably led to the coasts and the sands and the water. Because otherwise, the popular, well-loved sports junkie that he is would never have even looked your way back in freshman year, you tell yourself. 

“Oh, how beautiful,” your friend, Yujin, breathes out a gasp as the car rounds the corner and turns onto a road that overlooks the beach that you’re headed towards. Minghao, her boyfriend and the current driver of the car, takes a peek and hums in agreement. It rouses you from your half-asleep daze, and you sit up a little to crane your neck to the side to look out the window. 

She’s right. The cabin that your group of friends has rented for the weekend sits cozily along a row of other identical lodgings, dotting a beautiful shoreline that meets the eastern sea. The sunrises are gorgeous, Yujin had insisted, and that had been enough to convince you to come along. Of course, the mention of Kim Mingyu’s presence on the trip hadn’t been omitted either. The view, further solidifying the reality of this upcoming weekend, and the recollection of the conversation sends a flutter of anticipation in your stomach, which you try your best to swallow away. 

Once Minghao pulls into the designated parking stalls for the campgrounds, you’re pulling at your belt buckle and all but scrambling out of the backseat. Instantly, you take a lungful of the salty air, feet surging forward and leading you towards the water. You barely hear and acknowledge Yujin’s amused murmur, “There she goes again.” 

As you near the beach, you crouch to pull your sneakers and socks off, planting your bare feet into the sand and breathing a quiet sigh of relief. You almost feel instantly healed from the headache of work and life. There’s a few remaining minutes of the sun left, so a few stragglers saunter along the beach still. A family with two squealing children, a couple quietly sharing a blanket around their shoulders, and a singular, tall silhouette that you would recognize anywhere in the world. 

Almost as if he’s been expecting you, the man turns his head over his shoulders at the same time that you distinguish him. The grin that splits Mingyu’s face takes your breath away, more than the purple and orange and blue of the twilight sky overhead. 

“Hey,” he calls your name with a wave to accompany it, his own shoes dangling from his other hand. “About time you guys showed up!” He’s in a white linen cardigan, sleeves pulled up to his elbows, and his jean cuffs are folded up to his ankles neatly. A pair of sunglasses hang from the vee of his collar, and his hair is wind tossed and salt ruffled. He looks every part a resident of this sleepy, seaside town. 

You will your racing heart to calm as you take each footstep towards him carefully and intentionally, so as not to rush and trip. Once you get close enough to see the moles on his nose, cheeks, and forehead that you love so much, you return his smile easily. 

“Thought I’d find you here.” 

Mingyu just agrees and laughs. 

When the sun finally disappears behind the mountains to the west, the two of you can’t linger any longer, especially as the wind picks up with a bite. Mingyu lets you take the lead as you trudge through the cold sand, barely satisfied with the glimpse of the ocean. 

You enter the house first, kicking your shoes clean outside, and immediately, a warm body crashes into you forcefully and nearly knocks you clear off of your feet. Thankfully, you’re held upright by a sturdy surface behind you, as you grasp at your chest, where your heart lurches in surprise. 

“Seokmin,” you hiss out, mid-complaint, but the man already apologizes at a million words per minute, arms looped around your shoulders. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” Seokmin mumbles sheepishly, hugging you properly, as if it’s consolation for giving you the fright of a lifetime (it is). “I just missed you so much!” 

A quiet rumble of a laugh breaks you out of the moment, and it’s with mild horror that you realize that the surface that caught you from crashing to the floor is actually Mingyu’s broad, firm chest. With a jolt, you straighten up under Seokmin’s hold and shuffle farther into the hallway, leaving the two men behind and pretending to huff as you go. 

In the kitchen, Yujin and Minghao quietly tuck away the groceries and drinks into the fridge and freezer, and you study them for a moment, watching as they work effortlessly in tandem without saying a single word. Their movements come practiced and easy, through years of patience and work and fighting and loving. Despite the smile that curls onto your lips, you wonder cynically if you’ll ever find that sort of love for yourself. 

“Oh!” Yujin has turned to place something onto the kitchen counter and has caught sight of you lingering. “And how’s your estranged lover doing?” 

You snort out a laugh, broken from your reverie, just as Mingyu and Seokmin catch up to you and crowd around the counter. 

“You have a lover?” Seokmin gapes innocently, eyes bright with confusion. He turns to glance at Mingyu, who responds with a shrug and a nibble along his bottom lip. 

“Yeah, and his name is the ocean,” Yujin deadpans with a quick roll of her eyes. “Can’t get enough of him, really. Maybe that’s why she can’t seem to find a guy.” She bites playfully, knowingly shifting her gaze from you to Mingyu and back. 

You wince, “Ouch.” Pretend not to notice the way Seokmin offers you a sympathetic smile nor the sag of Mingyu’s shoulders. Instead, you plaster on the brightest grin you can manage and change the subject. 

“So, what’s for dinner?” 

–

You sit on the deck railing, half-ignoring and half-laughing at Yujin’s shrill warnings for you to be careful because if you fall and break your leg, nobody’s taking you to the ER. Behind you, Mingyu mans the grill, and Minghao sets the table up for dinner. Seokmin, bless his heart, sidles up behind you and mumbles sweetly that he’ll drive you, if it comes to it. You thank him with a grin, popping open your can of seltzer and knocking a mouthful back. 

The darkness that you stare into is dizzying, but there’s a certain calm that it brings. You swing your legs back and forth, balancing yourself on the wooden beam carefully, and sip away at the can, listening to the distant waves crash and break. 

“Doin’ alright?” 

The voice comes without warning, and you jump at its proximity which jostles you an inch forward, teetering a bit off balance. Before you have the chance to right yourself, an arm snakes around your waist, holding you back firmly. 

“Mingyu,” you breathe. “You scared me.” The motion has made your drink spill all over your hand and pants, and you pull a face, bringing your arm up to lick away at the stray droplets clinging to your skin. 

The man besides you giggles a little sheepishly, “Sorry. Dinner’s ready, but you seemed so peaceful and I didn’t want to bother you.” He pulls away once you twist around to come down from the rail, and you instantly mourn the loss of his warmth. 

Nonsense, you quickly admonish yourself. As smitten as you may be with the man, you have to remind yourself constantly that he’s been seeing another girl for almost the better part of a year now. The day that epiphany had come, through a careless slip of Wonwoo’s tongue, had gone over rough. You had spent an entire weekend moping on the couch, as Yujin and Minghao, Seokmin and Soonyoung, and Chan and Seungkwan took rotating shifts to make sure you didn’t fall apart completely and do anything stupid.

You know that you’re pathetic, pining after the only person you know who comes close to being perfect, but you’re anything but weak so you tried to take it in stride, laughing easily at jokes and eating all of the sweet treats that your friends brought you to cheer you up. It was only after you shut the door behind Seungkwan and Chan taking off for the night with lingering hugs and quiet murmurs of comfort that you allowed yourself to unravel, heaving through dry sobs that shook your entire body until the tears followed. 

You let yourself cry over Mingyu that one night and never again. 

Now, as you trail along back inside to the dinner table, eyes glued to the wide expanse of his back, you wish you could cry. Mingyu’s perfect, you’re realizing all over again, as if the distance and time away from him had made you forget. Perfect, but not meant for you. 

You gulp down the rest of your seltzer just as you sink into your designated chair to chase away the bitterness that pools in the back of your throat. Seokmin leans into you, bumping his shoulder against yours with a concerned furrow to his brow, but you wave him away with a smile. 

“Eat up,” you urge him, nodding towards the piles of barbequed meats that Mingyu has grilled. 

You quickly realize that the dining table, despite being long and wide enough to seat all five comfortably, is still too small because you can hear every word, giggle, grumble coming from Mingyu. It gets to the point where you’re just one more seltzer in, barely having nibbled on a short rib or two, and you’re all but sagging into Seokmin’s side, hanging off of every word that comes from Mingyu’s mouth as he recounts some funny story. 

At one of the punchlines, you squeak out a giggle, unable to hold it in, and the whole table turns to glance at you, which then makes the others laugh too. 

“Oh, man.” Mingyu grins, visibly pleased by the reaction to his story. “She’s gone.” 

You snort a puff of air out, mumbling, “M’right here!” Your friends laugh again, and Seokmin snakes his arm around your back to hold you up in your seat, snickering as he does. 

“Don’t remember you being such a lightweight,” he muses, chewing on his lip, before he dips his face close to yours to whisper. “You alright?” 

You merely smile, head bobbing once. He’s so warm and gentle besides you, and you’ve been so starved for touch like this that you all but melt into him. “Never been better.” 

By now, Minghao and Yujin have started up another one of their stories, and you listen along in a half-daze, eyes shut and cheek against Seokmin’s shoulder. 

You don’t see Mingyu’s gaze lingering on where you’re pressed into Seokmin. 

–

You wake before the sun, mouth dry as if you’ve eaten sand. Someone has carried you from the table to the room with the giant king-sized bed, tucked you into the sheets next to Yujin. Quietly, you slip out of bed, brush your teeth, and shower, and without even meaning to, your feet lead you out of the house, onto the shore. 

It’s still too early for the sunrise, and the sky yawns above you, navy blue and speckled with stars. You crane your neck back, mouthing out the few names that you know. Orion’s Belt, Canis Major, Sirius. Once you’ve exhausted the constellations that you know, you find a dry spot in the sand, sit with your legs folded and knees hugged to your chest. 

You finally let your guard down, breathing in through your nose, letting out a shuddering sigh through your teeth. Maybe this was a mistake, you ponder, running your fingers through the sand absently. It really is nice seeing your friends after so long, and the ocean welcomes you back home with open arms, but Mingyu’s presence, his beauty, his easy smiles leave the wound in your heart raw and open. Festering. 

Another few moments pass by lost in thought, until you pick up your head and notice that the sky has started to lighten overhead. Just then, a short whistle catches your attention, and when you turn, you suppose you’re not even surprised to find Mingyu crossing over the beach towards you. 

Your heart pulses and aches as you take him in. He’s in his checkered pajama pants still, a giant gray hoodie pulled on over his head. In the crook of his elbow are two water bottles, as if he knew you’d be here. Something about that thought unravels you even more. 

“You’re up early,” you mumble in greeting, nodding your appreciation when he hands you one of the bottles. 

Mingyu clicks his tongue and shrugs. “Wanted to see what the fuss about the sunrise was about. You?” He comes right beside you, planting himself into the sand and taking up the same position as you, elbows perched onto his knees. 

“Woke up dehydrated as fuck,” you say around a mouthful of water, grinning when he laughs. The man doesn’t say anything else, tilting his head up to watch as the sun begins its ascent. 

Despite the ache in your chest, it’s so easy to be Mingyu’s friend, to act like you don’t love him so much that you could die. It’s easy to sit here in silence with him, shoulder to shoulder, elbows brushing, pretending that the moment, and the world, belongs to the two of you. 

You zone out, concentrating on keeping your breath steady and thoughts reigned in. It isn’t until a tiny gasp catches in Mingyu’s throat that you’re looking away from the waves, first to him and then up above. Overhead, the sun has risen just enough to send a million colors across the sky. It’s a different palette from yesterday’s sunset, as orange and pink and blue swirl around each other. You stare, enraptured by the sight, and for a second, everything is perfect.

“Okay,” Mingyu says softly. “I get the hype now.” 

You glance at him, trace your gaze along the cheeky smile, the wonder in his eyes. Your heart squeezes, and you nod in agreement. 

Being here in this moment with him alone loosens your tongue, or maybe you’re still not completely sober because the words are escaping before you even have the thought to stop them. 

“Why did you come, Mingyu?” Your eyes widen in horror as you hear your own voice above the gentle push and pull of the waves, but it’s too late to take anything back now. 

The man blinks in surprise once, twice, leaning his cheek against a knee to fully look at you. “For the sunrise, silly.” 

No, you want to exclaim. Why did you come this weekend? Why did you come alone? But you’re a coward, and you always have been, so you swallow away the rest and hum in response. 

–

“Hey, Tiny. Come say hi.” 

If the rasp of Mingyu’s voice isn’t enough, that dumb, aggravating nickname that he insists on teasing you with sends your stomach tumbling. He peers over at you innocently as he sits on a stool at the kitchen counter, holding his phone in one hand, his chin in the other, elbow propped up. You cut him a glare, peeking at the screen that he turns to you to find Seungkwan and Chan’s faces peering back at you. 

“Oh!” You smile, pleasantly surprised. “Hi, Kwannie, Channie.” 

“Hi, Tiny,” comes their response in unison, Chan’s mouth quirking up into a smirk and Seungkwan’s eyes widening mockingly. Little shits. 

You scowl immediately, turning away with a sigh. “Sorry, I don’t talk to mean people.” 

Thankfully, Chan and Seungkwan know exactly when to indulge someone, and they paw at the screen, blasting the speakers out with incoherent shrieks of apology. You chuckle, dipping behind to put your face besides Mingyu’s. 

“Much better,” you nod. “Miss you guys.” 

Chan’s grin softens, and Seungkwan splutters at the sudden tenderness, lips jutting out into a pout. “Wish we could’ve come too,” he ends up murmuring, gaze swimming with affection. “It’s been a while since we all got together.” 

You chat with the two, and Mingyu interjects occasionally with his own quips until a notification drops from the top of his screen. His thumb swipes it away before you can fully make out the contact, but you do catch the purple heart emoji tagged after the end and your heart drops. You must freeze because Chan pauses in the midst of his sentence and his brow creases a little. 

Mingyu takes advantage of the lull in conversation to mumble out a quick excuse and apology, “Hey, guys, I gotta go make a call real quick. Can we call back later?” 

You both hurriedly say your goodbyes, before Mingyu’s pushing himself up and away from the kitchen counter without another word. Left alone, you hover for a few seconds, disappointed, before shuffling through the house to find your other friends. 

You’re not going to let your weekend getaway be ruined by something like this. 

And that’s how you find yourself, clinging to Seokmin’s shoulders as he marches deeper and deeper into the water. His arms hold strong, looped under your knees, and he just giggles, skin warm beneath your fingertips. Just ahead, Yujin teeters precariously atop Minghao’s shoulders, teeth flashing as she shrieks giddily. 

“You’re quiet,” Seokmin notes, tilting his head back to look at you. “Everything alright?” 

You just hold tighter, hiding your face away into his shoulder. It’d be so much easier to love Seokmin. You already do love him, for his infinite joy and compassion for others, for his positive, sunny presence. But it’s not the same, and it never would be the same. You hate yourself for these thoughts. 

“Is it Mingyu?” 

You frown and mumble his question away, “No, it’s just my dumb head thinking too much.” With a ruffle of his damp hair and a quick kiss to the cheek, you assure, “I’m okay. Thanks for worrying about me.” 

Seokmin merely shies away at the touch, cackling bashfully. He drops his voice to a whisper, “Let’s go dunk those two.” Tightening his hold on you, he surges forward to the unsuspecting couple, and you lunge for Yujin, toppling her off of Minghao and into the sea, which sets off a round of screaming and splashing that makes you forget about everything. It’s hard to be lovesick when your friends are around, grabbing you by the waist to throw you into the water. 

–

I can see that you’re hurting. 

Your thumbs hover over the phone screen, eyes roving everywhere, anywhere, but that particular gray bubble in the message log with Lee Chan. Lee Chan, who’s so perceptive that he can read you like an open book through a fifteen minute video call. Lee Chan, who’s so in tune with his own emotions that he’s not afraid to call you out on your own. 

Breathing a defeated sigh, you type out a response. 

I’m doing alright, Channie. I’d rather see him and hurt than never see him again. 

His message back is instant: You’re torturing yourself. 

You dig a knuckle into a temple, easing the sharp jab that arises from the conversation. With another halfhearted attempt of reassuring Chan, you shut your phone off and pocket it, switching it out for the two pill bottles you’ve carried out with you. You continue what you were doing before Chan’s concern interrupted you, reaching for a mug in the cabinets and filling it with water. 

In the midst of shaking out a single pill from each bottle, a gentle voice quivers out from the hall, making you jump and tense. As your luck would have it, it’s Mingyu, forehead creasing as he looks from your face to the labeled orange prescription bottles to the tiny pills in your palm. He holds an empty glass, as if he’s also come out for a drink of water. His face, initially cautious and guarded, opens up, confused and worried and devastated. 

“Hey, Tiny,” he mumbles, padding closer and closer. “Everything alright?”

No, no, no, no. You had purposefully crept out of bed once the house settled into a prolonged silence, afraid that you'd run into one of the others. You freeze like a deer caught in headlights, pinned by Mingyu’s searching gaze on you. 

When he gets close enough, you finally force yourself to move, hurriedly pocketing the bottles and tossing the pills into your mouth and swallowing them dry. In your panic, they get stuck halfway down your throat, and you have to gulp desperate mouthfuls of water down to dislodge them. Fuck, you’re making a mess of yourself. 

Pull yourself together, you chide before urging a smile onto your face. 

“Hey,” you murmur back, careful to keep your voice even. “I’m okay, just getting ready for bed. What are you doing up?” 

He mutters a quiet reply, “Was on a call.” Right. He’s been on and off his phone all afternoon and night, ever since he scrambled away from the kitchen counter earlier in the morning. He had missed out on the entire beach session, only joining in with the group briefly for dinner, wearing a permanent furrow to his brow. 

Despite your attempt at steering him away, Mingyu’s appraisal of your expression penetrates your soul, gaze slow and intentional. He doesn’t press, he never does, but his presence is firm and it’s clear that he’s not backing down without answers. 

You shut your eyes in defeat, breathing through a few moments of working up the courage to vocalize something you haven’t told any of your friends. Not even Seokmin or Chan. Because saying it out loud, telling someone else, means that it’s real, means that you’re acknowledging that you are weak after all, despite all of your bravado. 

As a last ditch attempt, you wince, “Do you have to know?” 

“Yes,” Mingyu insists. 

“Why?” 

A long silence stretches between the two of you. 

“Because you–” Mingyu cuts his words off abruptly, and when you glance up at him, his eyes widen imperceptibly, surprised. He hesitates, which is weird to see because Mingyu never dithers. He always, always barrels through things, whether he’s prepared for them or not. It’s one of the things you admire most about him, so when he falters, it’s your turn to give him a strange look. “Because I’m your friend,” he finally settles on, which makes your stomach sink in disappointment, “I’m worried about you, but you never let people worry about you, which frustrates me.” 

Your chest could have been torn, ribs pulled apart to bare your aching, bleeding heart, and it would probably feel the same as you do now as you speak, throwing the words out into the cold, midnight air hollowly. “I take antidepressants. Helps with my anxiety.” 

Mingyu exhales forcefully, as if his breath has been punched out from him. He moves automatically, reaching a hand up to cup your face, palm warm against your cheek. “How long?” 

His touch is searing, and you ball your hands into fists to stop yourself from tearing yourself away from him or running or throwing up. 

“Almost six months now.” 

The day after you cried over Mingyu, you had promptly scheduled yourself a slot into a therapist’s office, who had been recommended to you by Yujin. About four months of therapy alone had proven insufficient, and your therapist had suggested medication, which you had greedily, almost desperately, accepted. 

“Nobody else knows,” you start blabbing, stomach suddenly lurching with fear because now that one person knows, it’s only a matter of time before others do. Mingyu’s not a snitch, you know this somewhere deep inside your head, but maybe, just maybe, he’ll think that this is information that needs to be shared. 

“Hey,” he rasps, but you barely acknowledge it, thoughts racing and dipping deeper and deeper into the swirl of dread and misery that exists constantly inside your head. 

“Tiny.”

Only the slight irritation that spikes at the sound of the nickname rouses you from the spiral, and you return to the moment, frowning. Mingyu smiles, despite it all. 

“I won’t tell a soul.” 

He stays true to his word and doesn’t even bring it up the following morning, but he may as well be screaming at the top of his lungs that something is wrong, through his newfound devotion to hovering beside you at all times. You’ve been brushing past Yujin’s curious hums and dodging Minghao’s side eyeing all morning, but during lunch out at the beachside town, Mingyu pulls your salad away to manually cut the chicken breast into bite-sized pieces in front of everyone before handing the plate back over to you wordlessly. When Seokmin’s eyes appear to be bugging out of their sockets, you decide to intervene. 

You have to catch him by the elbow, pulling him aside momentarily as the others step into a gift shop to hiss, “Okay, you’re freaking everyone out.” 

Mingyu merely blinks his huge, guiltless eyes at you. “What do you mean?” 

“You’re hovering. Stop that. I’m depressed, not dying.” 

The man scratches at his neck sheepishly, swiveling his head from side to side to see if anyone has overheard. “Just trying to take care of you is all,” he shrugs. 

You sigh. This is exactly why you’d chosen not to tell your friends anything. “I appreciate it,” you say, poking a fingertip against his chest (pretending that you don’t notice the way his firm skin barely gives way beneath the pressure). “But please, at least try to be subtle about it?” 

Mingyu merely lets a grin split his face like an overjoyed puppy, as if he’s just glad you haven’t refused his special treatment. 

You turn away and into the gift shop, ignoring the way the tips of your ears burn red-hot. 

–

“So…” 

You groan loudly, lifting an elbow out of the jacuzzi water to tuck your face into the crook of it. 

“I didn’t even say anything yet!” Yujin protests as she quietly slips into the tub beside you, knees knocking against yours. She holds out a can of beer to you, which you politely refuse, having already had a moment of weakness on the first night. 

“But!” She continues, gaze burning fierce with curiosity. “I think everyone has caught onto you guys, so spill.” 

You blink owlishly, wondering what ideas your other friends have come up with. “Sorry to disappoint,” you say mildly, shrugging, “but nothing’s going on.” 

Yujin gasps, scandalized. “Then why is Mingyu trailing after you like a lovesick puppy?” 

Is that what it looks like? You want to laugh it off, but your friend’s words only lodge a tight knot in your throat that you can barely swallow around. 

“He is not.” 

“He totally is! Minghao told me that he saw you guys coming in together from the beach yesterday morning, so we assumed something happened then!” 

You watch, pained, as Yujin excitedly spins a theory, and you must look pathetic enough because her own expression falls. “What?” Her voice lowers into a concerned whisper, and she reaches for your hand beneath the surface of the water. 

“He’s definitely still with that girl.” You try not to sound bitter, squeezing at her fingers. “I saw her texting him, and they were calling the other day.” 

“Oh,” she calls your name sympathetically. “I’m so sorry.” 

You merely smile at her, wave away her concern. “Don’t be,” you insist, “It’s about time that I get over it anyway. I can’t keep living my life like this, right?” 

“Right,” she affirms. “I’m proud of you.” 

The two of you soak in the hot water for a few more minutes, chatting about everything and nothing at all, before Yujin complains about her wriggled fingertips. You’re just about covering up the jacuzzi, having sent your friend back inside the house ahead of you, when a patter of bare footsteps up the stairs to the deck from the beach catches your attention. 

Mingyu has just climbed up from a night swim with the boys, hair drenched and tousled, water still clinging to his tan skin, shorts pressed to his strong thighs. His eyes are bright when he catches sight of you, and suddenly, you’re hyper aware of your own stare and quickly cast your gaze away. 

“How’s the hot tub?” The man makes easy conversation, bending to pick up a towel from a stack that they’ve left conveniently on the deck. He roughly dries his hair, and you pointedly do not look at him as he does. 

“Insanely nice,” you breathe honestly, pulling your own towel tightly around your shoulders to keep yourself concealed. “You and the boys should try it out.” 

Mingyu hums in agreement, throwing his head over his shoulder to look towards the beach. Seokmin and Minghao are still chasing each other, kicking up sand as they go, voices pitched up in joy. “They don’t seem like they’ll be heading back anytime soon.” He shakes his head mirthfully. 

Your stupid heart betrays you, mere minutes after you just told Yujin that you’d start trying to get over him. Defeated for now, you’re opening your mouth to bid him goodnight, when Mingyu speaks first. 

“Listen,” he starts. Hesitates again. He crosses over the deck to tower right above you, standing so close that you can smell the salt on his skin. Mingyu reaches, hand resting heavy on your hip, and you’re beyond glad that your towel is wrapped tightly around your torso because if you felt his palm on your bare skin, you might have lost yourself completely. 

Your breath catches, and you don’t take another, afraid that any movement will break the moment. 

“I did some research,” Mingyu’s voice dips low, as if he’s sharing a secret with you. “Read somewhere that you shouldn’t mix alcohol and antidepressants, but you drank, didn’t you? The first night? That’s not good for your, Tiny.” 

You freeze. This is the type of person that Mingyu is, you remind yourself. Someone whose physical touch comes as a natural instinct. Someone who notices and remembers things. Someone who looks things up out of concern. 

The weight of his hand on your waist, the scent of his skin and the salt on it, the cloying uncertainty in his voice is all so dizzying that you might as well have been five drinks in now. He is your ruin, your undoing. So long as you are friends with him, you’ll never heal, you realize with dread. 

Frightened, you take a few steps back, unable to look at him anymore. You manage a strangled squeak to wish him good night, before you’re all but running away.

When the next morning comes, you feign being sick, which isn’t completely a lie, since the incessant throb in your head is enough to keep you in bed. Yujin fusses over you, suggesting to call Minghao in and make him drive the three of you back to the city to take you home. 

“No, no,” you insist, waving your hands up frantically. “It’s the last day that we’re here! Just enjoy yourselves without me. I think I just need to sleep in a little longer.” You even crack open your eyes to smile at her. 

Yujin, thankfully, tucks you beneath the comforter tightly, leaving you with a soft kiss on the forehead and a promise that she’ll bring you back something to eat. 

–

Mingyu’s very confused, and a little nervous, as his friends give him varying expressions of frustration and disbelief when he tells them that he broke up with his girlfriend a few months ago. Minghao holds his face in his hands, as if he doesn’t even want to look at him when he asks why. 

He twists his lips from left to right as he ponders the question. What he told his ex were assorted excuses of “I just don’t see us being a long term thing” or “I think I just have too much on my plate right now”, but after this weekend, he’s not so sure anymore. Mingyu cautiously offers, “I don’t think she was the one. She keeps texting and calling me, though. I shouldn’t respond, but I feel so bad.”

Yujin cuts a glare at him, looking like she’s all but ready to kill him with nothing but the spoon clutched in her hand. She’s evidently a few mimosas in, and she hisses, “Kim Mingyu, you dumb, idiotic moron!” 

He blinks in surprise. “Okay, you just called me stupid three different ways in one sentence.” 

Seokmin sighs from beside him, poking his fork into the puddle of yolk leftover from his eggs benedict. “Well, you are pretty dumb,” is what his best friend tells him. 

Mingyu pouts, a little hurt by the way his friends are treating him, especially when he just told them that he’s going through a breakup. “You guys are being mean,” he sulks, crossing his arms over his chest. “Tiny wouldn’t treat me like this.” 

At the sound of his nickname for you, everyone at the table looks at him, and now they’re all glaring at him. His poor little heart shrivels up in his chest, and Mingyu finally lets out a cry, “Can you guys just tell me what’s going on?” 

“You have no right.” Yujin slurs angrily, jabbing her spoon in his direction. “No right to treat my girl like that!” Her voice pitches up a bit too loudly at the end, which causes patrons at the surrounding tables to turn and look. Minghao reaches to clap a palm over her mouth, using his other hand to pull her into his side and calm her down. 

Seokmin, gentle soul that he is, softly mutters, “Have you ever considered that you might mean more than just a friend to her?” 

Mingyu’s mind goes blank, as he falters. A million thoughts run through his head at a million miles per hour. 

You’re the only one in the world who understands what it’s like to be led to the water by the ocean’s siren song. He doesn’t have to use words to explain what he feels to you, when he lets himself wander and finds himself skirting the edge of the beach, where the waves lap at his feet and pull away, leaving nothing but foam and bubbles. You’re the one who confided in him first, all those years ago, that you found the city too suffocating and heavy, that you were considering moving back to the island you were born on, despite your entire life being on the mainland. He had smiled and murmured that he wished he could do the same, and would want nothing more in life than to do that.

You, who he can always count on finding at the beach, as if magnetized to one another because your souls are made of the same stuff. 

Mingyu’s breathless because his friends are right. He is a dumb, idiotic moron. 

He runs back to the campgrounds ahead of his friends, all the way from town. He doesn’t bother checking your room or even going into the cabin because in his heart of hearts, he knows exactly where you are. Sure enough, he’s just coming up the small dune towards the shore when he catches sight of you, sitting with your knees tucked to your chest, head lolled to the side as you watch the water. 

He can only see your back from where you are, and you look so tiny. That’s why he had started calling you it in the first place, so fond of how little you are compared to him, how your nose would inevitably scrunch up in objection whenever you heard the name. 

Mingyu cannot believe how stupidly blind he’s been. 

–

You hear your name being called, but your heart limps along, immune to the sudden appearance of his voice. Tightening your arms around your bent legs, you wait until Mingyu comes by to sit beside you, just like that morning you watched the sunrise together. His back rises and falls rapidly, huffing as if he’s run all the way back from town. Even when his breath settles, he doesn’t say a word, as if waiting for you to speak first. 

You inhale shakily and then unload everything before you have the chance to doubt yourself. 

“I can’t be friends with you anymore, Mingyu.” 

The man soaks in the words, before he says plainly, “Okay. Because I can’t either.” He then leans forward, to crane his head and peer right into your face. Mingyu grins, bright as the sun. Your heart cleaves in two and you’re grasping at the remnants of your sanity to hold it together, and he’s smiling. 

“–The fuck?!” 

You bite your tongue to prevent hurling more expletives because this is certainly not the Kim Mingyu that you know and love. 

His smile only widens, and he’s suddenly talking, words spilling from his mouth and stumbling over his lisp, “I know, by the way. I know that you love me. I know that you’re trying hard to pretend that you’re fine, when you’re not. I know I’ve been so, so stupid, and I’m sorry for that.”

Mingyu reaches across the space that he’s politely left between the two of you, one hand coming to cup your cheek, the other sweeping your hair back from your face gently. He holds and looks at you so tenderly, as if he’s scared of shattering you, and for the first time ever, you feel seen. 

“What’s going on?” You manage to work out, but your voice comes out very small. 

“I broke up with her months ago,” Mingyu says, as if that explains everything. “She didn’t understand who I was. But you…” A thumb delicately brushes over your cheekbone to catch a tear, and only then do you realize that you’re crying. The man’s smile crumples, and he dips to press his lips onto the top of your head, mumbling into your hair, “Oh, baby. I’m so sorry.” 

You gasp for a breath, forcefully trying to swallow away the sobs. All day, as you tossed and turned in bed alone, you had been working yourself up towards ending your friendship with Mingyu once and for all, to protect whatever pieces of your heart were left. 

“I thought I was going to lose you,” you warble, finally holding onto him, fingers tightening around his shirt like it’s a lifeline. 

Mingyu chortles, and it rumbles throughout his entire body. 

“You won’t be getting rid of me that easily.” 

–

“Um. What is that?” 

Chan’s voice comes through, shrill and scandalized, from the other end of the line, and you can see the cogs turning in his head, as you quickly move to turn the collar of your shirt up and cover the burgeoning mark that Mingyu’s teeth have left on your skin. When Chan leaves the screen momentarily to frantically call Seungkwan over, you whip your head around to glare at Mingyu, who lounges in the armchair beside you lazily, a pleased grin curling onto his lips. 

“I’m never hearing the end of this,” you mutter, just as Seungkwan enters the frame. 

“What’s this about a hickey I’m hearing?” Seungkwan clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “What kind of low-grade, classless loser did you bring home with you?” 

At that, Mingyu jolts up, straight as an arrow, brows furrowing. He starts whining his complaints as he comes over to your side. 

You watch with amusement as the recognition of the voice registers in Seungkwan’s eyes first, then Chan’s. Then, Mingyu peeps his face into the camera. It’s actually quite comical, the way Chan and Seungkwan both slap their hands over their mouths, eyes stretching wide. 

“What the–”

“–actual fuck?!” 

You snicker a little, cheeks flushing as you catch sight of the little window on the phone screen that mirrors back your face pressed against Mingyu’s. He must notice it too because he catches your eye through the screen and leans in to smile against your mouth. A cacophony of groans and gags come from Chan and Seungkwan, but your heart swells, tight with love and affection. 

bonus:

“Can’t believe I got called a ‘low-grade, classless loser’,” Mingyu mutters, laving his tongue over the mark on your throat. “Could a loser do this?” His voice drops low and raspy, deep inside of his chest, as his hands dip beneath your shirt and his fingers leave sinful trails along your stomach. As soon as Seungkwan and Chan had hung up the call, Mingyu had immediately pulled you onto the armchair, pinning you into the seat with his weight, knees pressed into the cushions on either side of your thighs. 

You squirm, throwing your head back against the armchair in an attempt to create some space, but Mingyu just follows. His hooded gaze burns bright with affection, with desire, as he peers up at you. 

Good lord, those eyes of his. 

“H-Hey,” you stutter out when you feel the drag of his teeth against your clavicle, the sharp bite of his pointy canines. “Hey,” you repeat, pressing your hands firmly against his shoulders to push him back. “We never talked about the emoji.” 

Mingyu’s half-listening, you can tell. He pretends that he’s looking at you, but he can barely meet your eyes, gaze dipping lower to your lips and then your throat. A tongue peeks out from the corner of his mouth, just before he’s trying to lean back in. 

You scowl, threading your fingers through the soft hair at the back of his skull and tugging to pin him in place. Head forced back, Mingyu finally focuses, chest heaving. A soft whine catches in his throat and the tips of his ears flare bright red, and you would find it endearing if you weren’t trying to get answers. 

“Baby,” he purrs. “That was so hot.” 

“Down, boy.” You roll your eyes, loosening your grip on his hair. “The emoji. Explain it.” 

“What emoji?”

“The heart emoji, next to your ex’s name in your phone.” 

Mingyu pulls his brows together in thought, before he nibbles at his bottom lip sheepishly. “Okay, you’re not gonna like the answer.” 

Your stomach turns uneasily, but you shrug anyway. “Tell me.”

The man sighs. “She’s the one who put it there in the first place, and I honestly, swear on my life, forgot that it was there. But she’s since been blocked and deleted!”

You narrow your eyes, contemplating his words. “Hm,” you say, watching Mingyu squirm under your scrutiny. 

“Can I show you what you’re saved as in my contacts? Maybe it’ll make up for it.” 

You nod, waiting as he taps at his phone to pull it up. When he turns the screen around to show you, and your gaze focuses on “the littlest tiny” with five blue hearts next to it, you can’t decide if you should kick him or kiss him. 

Balking at your silence and lack of reaction, Mingyu pushes himself off of the chair to fall to his knees at your feet. He clasps his hands together and places them in your lap, eyes wide and shining with remorse. “I’m sorry,” he whines pitifully. “It was a joke, I promise!” 

You regard him coolly, thoroughly enjoying the way his bottom lip quivers into a pout. Before you can stop yourself, you’re pressing a thumb against the seam of his mouth, watching with acute interest as it parts and his tongue, warm and soft, peeks out to meet the pad of your finger. The image sends your stomach tumbling. 

“I love you,” Mingyu mumbles, extending an olive branch. “Only you, baby.” 

You bite. “Prove it.” 

You barely catch the glimpse of the smirk curling across Mingyu’s lips, before his strong arms lift you up and out of the armchair, into his chest, and towards your bedroom. 

[onyxdaze]

Goodnight

Sebastian x f.Reader

Sebastian has a crush on you.

minors do not interact ~ 18+ content

You hiccupped. The smell of cinnamon and nutmeg on your breath, and your body warm to the touch thanks to Robin’s spiked eggnog.

“You, okay?” Penny’s voice was sweet and thick like syrup. The lull in her speech let you know she had enjoyed Robin’s brandy-infused concoction too.

“Mhmm,” you hummed, your thoughts hazy and your cheeks flushed. Penny held out a wet plate for you to dry. The wide, round ceramic dish thinned as she laid it flat in her grasp and passed it to you. You took it, dried it with the dishcloth bunched in your hand and set it aside on the counter.

“Thanks for staying to help clean,” Maru spoke while swaying a broom across the wooden floors. She paused next to Penny and kissed her cheek.

“Oh,” Penny giggled and held her small hand against her coral lips. You peered over at the rise and fall of Penny’s shoulders as she giggled for way too long, and you realized you had never seen the mild-mannered bookworm this drunk.

“Yeah, no problem—hey, thanks for inviting me,” you smiled politely and dried your hands with the cloth in your hands. Penny and Maru shared a prolonged, lustful glance. Their eyes round and glazed with devotion. You took it as your cue. “I should probably go.”

“No,” Penny grunted, belligerent. She latched onto your arm before being overtaken by another fit of giggles. When she realized what she had done, she let go of you and took a step back, nearly toppling over. But Maru held out her arms and steadied Penny before leaning the broom against the kitchen counter.

“I think you should lie down,” Maru guided Penny toward her bedroom in the same way Demetrius had done for Robin only an hour ago. You watched Maru cart Penny away. Penny’s feet drumming on the floor as she stumbled. The two disappeared into the hallway and left you alone in the kitchen. A wave of loneliness washed over you and pressed down your chest. You had been chronically single since you’d moved to Pelican town—and as much as you loved seeing your two friends happy—it made you feel even more alone at times.

You peeled your winter coat off the back of a kitchen chair and fitted your arms into the sleeves.

“Heading out?” Maru stood in the doorway while you buttoned up your coat.

“Yep,” you looked over your shoulder to glance at her and stuffed your hands in your coat pockets.

“I’ll walk you out,” Maru turned her back to you and you followed her. “Sorry about Penny,” Maru examined you briefly, “she didn’t realize the eggnog was spiked.”

“She’s fine,” you shrugged and smiled, “weird seeing her drunk though.” A quick loud laugh jostled Maru’s body.

“It is weird,” you peered at Maru’s shiny painted lips as she spoke. A small silence passed. “So,” Maru drawled, “meet anyone…nice?”

A rush of warmth gathered in your face and Maru stopped walking to stare at you. A photo of Robin holding a tiny version of Maru hung on the wall next to Maru’s head. You looked away from Maru’s shining eyes and continued down the hall.

“Er,” you sighed, “no.’

The two of you stood in front of the entrance to Robin’s shop.

“Oh,” Maru sounded disappointed, and you couldn’t help but feel like you had failed her in some way. “Really? I thought you might—”

“It’s fine,” you drew a dash in the air with your hand, “you don’t have to set me up.”

“I know,” Maru mumbled while you clutched the doorknob and gave it a twist.

You could not wait to get home.

But as soon as you opened the door, you heard the whirring of strong winds and looked down to see the ground piled high with snow. A heavy gust slammed the door shut and you inwardly groaned.

“Looks like you’re staying,” Maru’s words rang in your ears and played in your mind on a loop.

The last time Maru and Penny had stayed at your house, the two had woken you up in the dead of night. What could only be described as them devouring each other had echoed throughout the farmhouse. You were too embarrassed to tell them you were awake and turned on your side. Away from them. And tried to go back to sleep.  But it was no use, and you couldn’t look either of them in the eye for a week.

This time felt like it’d be worse. Because prior to the symphony of your friends having sloppy drunk sex, there’d be an interrogation. Millions of questions would be asked about what you thought of every guy you had spoken to at Robin’s winter star party. And as much as you loved Penny and Maru, you preferred your warm bed to the hard wooden floor.

“No,” you shook your head from side to side and turned the knob again, but the wind tugged the door shut. No, no, no, no, your thoughts cried while you rested your forehead on the door.

“You alright?” Maru’s eyebrows rose above her curious stare.

“Yeah,” you lifted your head away from the door and released the knob, “I just don’t want to intrude…,” your voice carried, and Maru’s eyes widened. And judging by the splash of pink splattered across her nose and cheeks, you figured she understood.

“I know the floors are a bit stiff,” Maru spoke quickly.

“Uh-huh,” you nodded in agreement, “very stiff.” Maru covered her shoulder with her hand and scratched her purple shirt.

“I guess you could sleep on Seb’s couch.”

You swallowed hard at the thought. You’d spoken to Sebastian a few times, but he wasn’t exactly a talker. And was always eager to excuse himself from conversation. Even at his mother’s winter star party he hadn’t bothered to make an appearance.

“I’ll tell Seb,” Maru’s voice was chipper now. She was visibly pleased with her solution and walked to the basement steps. You held your arms out, as if to stop her. But formed fists when you realized your fate had been decided, and your arms dropped to your sides before catching up to Maru’s stride.

“Seb,” Maru called to him while knocking on his door. There was no response. “I know you’re in there,” Maru’s tone dropped an octave, and it sent chills down your spine. You heard Sebastian groan and the swish of plastic wheels gliding across the floor. You glanced at Maru staring directly at the door as the knob clicked and Sebastian’s face appeared in the small gap he formed.

“She’s sleeping on your couch tonight,” Maru informed him while pointing her thumb at you. Sebastian’s sight trailed away from Maru’s stern expression to you. You feigned surprise. His piercing grey eyes stood out against his ruffled midnight black hair. He chewed his lip and the steel ring that followed the curve of his bottom lip wiggled.

“Fine,” you watched his lip ring move as he spoke. Sebastian blinked, and his long lashes bounced on his smooth skin. You could have sworn he was moving in slow motion. The bass of Maru’s voice seemed to play in the distance, becoming louder until….

“Hey!” you jumped, and time returned to its normal pace. Stunned, you responded with a blank stare and a smirk spread across Maru’s face like wildfire. “I’ll get you a blanket,” her voice wavered menacingly, taunting you.

“I,” you cut yourself off, trying to find a way to deny what had happened while you nearly chased Maru up the stairs.

Sebastian’s lips curled like a pink ribbon. He left the door ajar and went to sit down on his desk chair. Waiting for you.

Maru pulled a quilted blanket from a cabinet in the hallway and passed it to you.

“You know, I wasn’t,” you struggled to explain yourself while Maru laid the folded green quilt in your arms.

“Checking out my brother?” Maru finished your sentence and Penny’s voice flooded the hall. She was groaning Maru’s name as if to summon her.

“I don’t know if I’d put it like that,” you gripped the blanket, digging your fingers into the cloth.

“How would you put it?” Maru teased while the ends of her mouth reached for her ears. And you contemplated if freezing to death in the snowstorm was a better alternative.

“I don’t know what you mean,” your words were followed by a nervous laughter.

“Right,” Maru laughed, and you felt your friend’s eyes burn through your farce. “And technetium is a man-made element.” Your brows lowered and pressed together while you tried to understand Maru’s reference. But you gave up and decided it was another one of her jokes only Penny would understand. You were hesitant to respond.

“Uh, sure?”

“Goodnight,” Maru chuckled and patted the blanket in your arms before following the sound of Penny’s summoning spell.

Sebastian watched you push his bedroom door open, and his heartbeat took the pace of a hummingbird’s wings. Your body language was rigid, and he wondered why you were so uncomfortable.

“Hey,” you whispered, eyes pointed downward while setting the folded blanket on the armrest of his black couch.

“Hey,” he responded, and you jerked your head upwards to see him smiling at you. A jolt of panic and pleasure shocked you. You smiled back, although you felt like it may have been crooked, or not good enough in some way. At least not as perfect as his smile.

“Sorry to bother you,” seated at his desk, Sebastian watched you unbutton your coat as you talked to him. His insides felt like a knot being tugged tightly.

“You don’t bother me,” his response was immediate. Rushed. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and berated himself for being so cringe.

“Are you sure?” you regretted it as soon as you said it.

“I’m sure,” Sebastian laughed, a little too loud. With his elbow rested on the desk, he lowered his head into his hand and stared down at his keyboard to hide his face from you.

Dammit Maru, he cursed her from the safety of his mind. Did she do this on purpose? How did she know?

“If it’s too much I can sleep on the shop floor or something, you know, I don’t want you to feel like you have to,” your words were jumbled as you strung them together in a hurry. Sebastian covered both his eyes with his hands and took a deep breath.

“The shop floor?” Sebastian laughed and pressed his face further into his palms before raising his head away from them.

“Yeah,” the electric shame you felt made your eyes water. “I can go,” you started to gather the blanket back in your arms, but Sebastian stood. His movements were so abrupt his chair flew backwards and almost tipped over.

“No!” he shouted, and you froze. Sebastian felt like he was moving outside the confines of his body. That you could somehow see all the times and ways he had thought of you. The silence that followed was painful. Your timid hands finished taking off your coat and you laid it down on his couch. Eyes wet and your mind spinning.

“Okay,” you crossed your arms and hugged yourself while your eyes bounced around the room. Focusing on anything other than Sebastian.

“How about something to drink?” Sebastian’s fist pulled at the collar of his black t-shirt.

“That’d be nice,” your voice squeaked, and Sebastian nodded before rushing past you and leaving the room.

You loosened your grip on your torso and lowered yourself onto the couch. You looked straight ahead at the small table crowded by three green stools and took deep breaths. In retrospect maybe listening to Penny and Maru get it on was the better choice. You had forgotten how strained every interaction you had with Sebastian was. It was no wonder he wanted to get away from you as fast as possible. You must have ruined his evening.

You picked at the thick hem of the couch cushion and tried not to cry.

Sebastian returned and handed you a large, plastic cup filled with Robin’s eggnog. It was a lot of alcohol, and you were grateful. Maybe if you got drunk enough you could pass out and this night would be done. Surprised, a small groan vibrated in your throat when Sebastian sat beside you, holding a cup that matched yours.

“I didn’t—if you don’t want to hang out,” Sebastian moved to stand. Without thinking, you reached out and snatched a section of his fuzzy plaid pajama pants.

“Don’t go,” your eyes met. Sebastian swallowed hard and sat back down. It took you a second to realize you were still holding onto his pants. You tore your hand away and turned away from him. Facing the green stools again, you took a sizeable sip of eggnog. You were thankful the effect of the alcohol was immediate.

Sebastian wondered if you could hear his accelerated breath. If you had made note of his sweaty palms yet. This is why he couldn’t bear to have any prolonged social contact with you. He couldn’t understand what he ever did to Maru to deserve this. Even if it was what he wanted, this wasn’t one of the many scenarios he had played out in his head.  

“So,” you both stated in unison, turning your heads to look at each other before immediately looking away. You giggled and Sebastian thought he might combust into a million fragments of himself. He imagined you looking on in horror as chunks of his flesh floated in the air.

“Did you have fun at the party?” he blurted. Everything he said seemed to spill from him like he was in a constant state of overflowing.

“Sure,” you grinned dumbly, eyes settled on the frothy white liquid in your cup. “It’s too bad you couldn’t make it,” you joked and took another drink.

“Couldn’t find a ride,” Sebastian shrugged, and you choked on the eggnog in your throat but forced it down. You faced each other again and a flood of warmth washed over you. Your body tingled and your mind was blank while your cheeks felt strained from how hard you were smiling. Your shoulders relaxed, and an avalanche of relief tumbled throughout Sebastian. “But crowds aren’t really my thing,” Sebastian explained, running his hand through his hair. You bit your lip as you watched the tufts of black glide through the spaces between his fingers. His hand rested on his neck while he waited for your response and took a drink.

“For sure, I get that,” your head bobbed up and down for a moment. “Secretly, I’m not really a fan either, but Maru really wanted me to come,” you winked at Sebastian, and he held his next breath hostage for a moment before releasing it.

“Because they keep trying to set you up with someone,” Sebastian spoke without thinking. You stared at him, eyes wide and horrified. And Sebastian wondered if he had exploded. He certainly felt like it would be a good time to do so. “Shit, I’m so, so sorry.”

“Wow.”

“I heard them talking about it earlier,” Sebastian tried to explain himself and squeezed his neck with his hand.

“I wish they wouldn’t,” you murmured, making an executive decision to start chugging the drink in your hand. The cup covered your mouth and you lapped at the eggnog like an errant dog. You were hopeful for the first time tonight—hopeful you could escape the levels of social hell you had endured throughout the night. If not physically, then mentally. You promised yourself you’d never let Maru talk you into another party again. But you knew it was a comforting lie you didn’t have the guts to follow through with.

“I get it,” then Sebastian took a drink too. And you wondered if he too was trying to dig himself out of the hole the two of you had found yourselves in, and if the attempts at conversation he made were out of pity. Even if they were, you felt grateful he’d even bother trying after being imposed on.  

“Really?” your eyes gleamed. Sebastian swallowed a mouthful of brandy with a splash of eggnog and rolled his tongue across the back of his front teeth. So cute, his mind whirred like the strong winds outside his home. She’s so cute.

“Sam and Abby try to set me up all the time,” Sebastian’s eyes averted your gaze and you looked away from him in the hopes of making him feel more comfortable.

“With who?” your curiosity got the better of you.

“Recent? Some girl from the city,” from the corner of your eye you watched Sebastian lift his shoulders to his ears before letting them drop. They seemed heavy. Invested, you straightened your back and leaned closer to him.

“What happened?” You watched him squirm a bit in his seat next to you while holding his cup over his lap with both his hands.

“She said I took too long to text her back,” the pointed tip of his nose twitched, “so I stopped texting her.” And he took a drink. You stared at him for a moment before allowing yourself to be swept up in a dry chuckle. “What?” he scoffed and twisted his torso to set his drink aside on his desk. He reached out and offered to take your cup. You held your hand out and chugged the last of your drink before handing it to him. You let the brandy hammer away at you, pressing your worries further into the depths of your mind until they disappeared.

“What do you mean, what?” you chuckled and laid your palm flat against Sebastian’s arm. Squeezing it before letting go. Thanks to the alcohol, the knot in his stomach wasn’t as tight now, but he still felt it wrench inside him.

Do you think I’m a bad person for doing that? is what he had wanted to say, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask.

“She wanted me to text her like every hour of the day,” he explained himself, in the hopes you wouldn’t think any less of him.

“Oh,” you beamed, “you don’t have to feel bad about it.”

“No?” he cocked his head to the side and wiggled his lip ring with the tip of his tongue. Mesmerized, you studied the contours of his mouth. Sebastian watched your gaze and realized what you were doing. His lips widened into a playful grin, and your body responded with a growing tightness in your lower belly.  “Are…are you staring at me?” Sebastian leaned his head toward yours and you looked away from him. You covered your face in your hands and titled your body forward. “You are, aren’t you?” he teased and swept his hand across your back. When you didn’t recoil, he lifted his hand and stroked your hair. It tickled the tips of his fingers. You lifted your head away from your hands and held them next to your face.  

“Would you please stop pretending you don’t know how hot you are,” you chanted while waving your hands back and forth.

Sebastian’s head jolted back in surprise and held both his palms against his chest.

“Me?” His mind shook like a cave collapsing.

“Yoba,” you whined, “I’m just going to go die in the snow,” you moved to stand.

“Hey, come on,” Sebastian chuckled while grabbing your hips and giving them a light tug. “Stay here with me.” You plopped back down on the couch. Your words had given Sebastian a rush of confidence—but he was still not entirely emboldened—so he let go of you.

“I always thought you didn’t like me,” you confessed.

Didn’t think I liked you? Sebastian’s thoughts protested. She’s lost her mind. 

“Wha-Why?” he narrowed his eyes and for a moment held his hands out with his palms open.

“This is so embarrassing,” you whimpered, tapping your feet against the floors. You stared up at the ceiling for a minute before looking at him. “I don’t know, it seemed like you didn’t like talking to me.”

Sebastian considered telling you how you had made him too nervous to speak but decided against it.

“I don’t talk a lot,” he explained while wiping his sweaty palm on his shirt.

“I know,” you touched his shoulder briefly. A spark of excitement rippled throughout his body each time you felt comfortable enough to touch him. “I guess I kind of hoped…you’d want to talk to me. I know it’s dumb….”

“This whole thing with Maru—you met someone yet?” Sebastian questioned you, a single brow arched. You gazed at him. Eyes half open. Peering past a dreamy film.

Sebastian decided the only way you could make it any clearer you liked him was if you wrote it in sharpie on your forehead. And he was officially emboldened.

Before you could form a response, he leaned closer. Fear and excitement popped inside you. His hot breath trailed across your face, and it smelled like sweet cinnamon. Too stunned, it wasn’t until you felt the steel of his lip ring mark your bottom lip that you kissed him back. Your insides boiling like a pot of water. Sebastian felt your lips melt against his and was slow to pull away. Your lips peeled apart. With your foreheads pressed, and eyes locked, you could both hear and feel each other’s strained breaths.

Sebastain nodded his head yes and you did the same.

He leaned onto the back of the couch, and you followed his lead. You lifted your leg to sit on his lap, and Sebastian’s hand glided across your thigh, pulling you to him. When the crotch of your jeans hovered above his lap, he grabbed your face with both his hands and pulled you closer. His lips cradled your top lip for a few seconds before he withdrew. Palms latching onto your cheeks, you felt his right thumb stroke your jaw.

It was as if he had been plucked from reality and placed inside a shaken snow globe. Sebastian’s body was warm. Light. His shoulders didn’t feel heavy anymore. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this good.

Your hands rested on his chest and crumpled his t-shirt. A desperate attempt to ground yourself in what you had to assume was a lucid dream.

His thumb moved from your jaw to the center of your bottom lip. He pressed the pad of his thumb down and watched it dent your lip. You spread your legs and sank further into his lap, grazing his dick with your crotch.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he whined, dragging his thumb down your bottom lip before pulling you into another kiss. This time, he held his tongue out and lightly licked your top lip before covering your mouth with his. He parted his lips, and your lungs were filled with his breath. You pushed your hips even further into his.

While your mouths moved in synchronized movements and his tongue fumbled with yours, Sebastian’s hands dropped to your waist and held you still as he bucked his bulge against your jeans. You severed the kiss. With a flushed face, your eyes begged Sebastian for more. His dick pushed against his pants and ached. He took the opportunity to lift your shirt. You took the hint and grabbed the hem to raise your shirt over your head. Sebastian preoccupied himself with unclasping your bra while your head disappeared behind your shirt before reappearing.

Once he finished freeing the last clasp, he was quick to shimmy your bra away from your chest. And even quicker to grab a breast in each of his hands. He paused and admired the sight of his hands holding your tits. Your nipples poked through the space between his splayed fingers. He leaned over and dragged your nipple across his tongue, until the rounded tip of your tit met the tapered end of his pink tongue. He swirled the tip of his tongue around your sensitive mound of flesh and a tickle of pleasure radiated throughout your body. You wiggled on his lap. Sebastain squeezed his thighs together, desire radiating throughout his shaft and pulsating in the head of his cock.  

You slid your hand down his chest and cradled his bulge in your warm hand. Rubbing the cloth around his erect dick. Sebastian let go of your boobs and grabbed your wrist. Guiding your hand away from his cock, he brought it up to his lips and kissed the back of it.

“Take your pants off for me?”

The nod you responded with was eager, and you teetered off his lap to fulfill his request.  

He hooked his thumbs in his boxers and lifted his hips to pull them off alongside his pants. His cock free now, he stroked himself while watching you undress.

Sebastian held the base of his stiff dick between his thumb and his index finger. You looked down at the cough-drop-colored tip slathered in precum and crawled back on top of his lap. You inhaled sharply as you lowered yourself onto his dick. Sebastian sucked his stomach in to get the best view of his dick entering your wet pussy. He chewed on his lip as the girth of his fat cock caused the glossed ruffles of your cunt to split apart. Once he had bottomed out you leaned forward to kiss him and felt his length slip out of your pussy. Sebastian didn’t hesitate to guide his cock back inside you before pushing your hips down. And then up. Setting the pace he wanted, you followed his instruction.

His fingers pressed against your clit, and you recoiled from his touch, pushing your hips away. Causing him to adapt a lighter pressure, he circled the edges around your clit softly. You moaned and bounced on his cock faster. He didn’t bother to stop you as you used his cock.

Soft whimpers were charmed from your lungs despite your desperate attempts to muffle them. The simmer of your desire scorched into an inferno until the ripples of ecstasy swam in your stomach and released you from the fire.

Sebastian came shortly after you and held your waist as he spilled into you.

[bumblehoneybee]

Heya! This is my first ask I've made actually, across this entire app! I was wondering if you could do something small about the reader getting her period when she gets everyone to her home. And how they would react?

Like- hello??? Your bleeding and in pain??? But not dying????

(You don't have to write it)

-I dunno.. Uh.. Scarce anon?

The Crimson Wave

For what is was worth, your body did its best to take care of you during the tumultuous time that was your stay in the factory. It warned you of what was close to breaking, flooded you with adrenaline when danger was close, and held off on overtly torturing you until you found yourself in a safe place.

Everyone was pretty beat up after all the drama, so the first days in the home were slow, a careful line up of gorging on food and drowning in the shower to finally feel clean again. You managed to keep upright as you fretted over the various guests now living in your home, making sure they were full and clean and safe and sleeping before you finally collapsed yourself.

The house was silent for the most of two days. Then, when sleep was caught up on, you found yourself gradually introducing the toys to their new lives.

Catnap took to the woods, at home in the trees, laying in the sun, chasing the animals (and probably eating them, but you didn't really care by that point). Dogday followed, at least a little, mostly staying in the backyard to laze in the grass and feel the wind on him.

Kissy trailed you around the house when not ferrying Poppy, watching you interact with the others, like she was afraid one of them would strike. Poppy helped soothe her, though, and the pair spent a lot of time sorting through your clothes, trying on things they found interesting, though little fit Poppy herself. You'd have to buy her some clothes later, Kissy too.

Doey was the most skittish, no doubt in a constant battle within his own body. But he did like your TV, the new shows playing, the old ones you could pirate for him. He tried to help you, tried to fret over the others alongside you, but you didn't let him. He had been in charge long enough; it was time for him to relax and rely on someone else.

It was a tentative peace, barely made and easily broken.

It broke when Catnap caught the first whiff of blood early in the morning.

He made a quick round, nosing the others awake as he tried to locate the weak scent. Poppy was quick to help once she understood, going to Doey with Dogday to slowly ease him into the situation, in case he panicked.

Kissy went to you. And found you. Lying in your own blood.

You didn't know Kissy could make such a noise. By the way she recoiled, she didn't seem to know it either.

Kissy rushed towards you, gathering your sleep-addled body into her arms as others soon rushed in. Dogday, upon seeing the blood-stained sheets, immediately started barking orders with such ferocity not even Poppy disobeyed, all rushing out to gather bandages, towels, water, and whatever else Dogday demanded.

Only Doey lingered, peeking around the door, a whine in his voice as he called for you.

"I'm fine." You grumbled, wiggling in Kissy's grasp. "It's normal. I'm not dying, Dogday."

"You're bleeding." He scoffed in return, leading the way towards the nearby bathroom. You were set carefully in the tub, Kissy pawing at your bloody pj bottoms, but you pushed her hands away. "Catnap! The bandages!?"

"I don't need bandages!" You called.

"Angel, why didn't you tell us you were injured!?" Poppy said, rushing in with a bottle of water clutched to her chest. "How long have you had it? Since the factory?? There's so much-"

"I'M MENSTRUATING!" You hollered, so loud everyone froze. You took advantage of their shock, shoving everyone out the door and slamming it behind you.

The ragtag group stood in the hall, listening to the shower turn on and the sounds of your muffled curses as you cleaned up yourself.

"They're. . . not dying?" Doey asked, still stood by the bedroom door. His hands shook, unable to decide what to do, where to go.

"How can someone bleed and not die?" Dogday demanded, ears pinned back. He eyed the bathroom door like he was debating ramming it down to get to you.

"Wait." Poppy said suddenly, clinking when her hands slapped to her cheeks. "Wait, oh god! They're on their period!"

Silence rang for a few moments.

Dogday dropped his head into his hands. "Fuck. . . Didn't even think of that."

"What's a period?" Doey asked. Catnap nudged Dogday's shoulder, but the hound just groaned into his palms. "They're not dying then??"

"No." Poppy sighed, stepping onto the hand Kissy offer her. "Come on. Let's wait in the living room. I'll try and explain it best I can remember. . ."

In the shower, you sighed in relief. Poppy was thankfully handling it, for the most part. You'd be sure to fill in any gaps too, once you were clean.

Still. . . it was nice to see how they cared. Your sweet protectors.

[eddies-ashtray]

♡ meet cute.

There’s this alcove out behind the school. It’s deserted and quiet, right around the corner from the outside door to the woodshop. You can normally count on it being empty, a shaded refuge when you need a break during the school day. A secret place to slip away to when things get to be too much.

Once, Daniel Adams was there throwing wood scraps in the dumpster just before the bell signalling the end of second period. But he didn’t disturb you, just went back inside without a second glance. Other than that, it always lacked a population. 

Until today. 

When you round the corner, you see the trade off clear as day; a small pouch of white powder transferred from a heavily ringed hand being swapped for a thick wad of cash. 

The guy receiving the pouch slips it into his jeans pocket before he sees you. Then his green eyes make contact with yours and he books it back down the alley before crashing through the door to the shop. Subtle.

The guy with the cash is left there alone, but seemingly unperturbed by his customers sudden exit. You imagine you might run away too, if you were buying ketamine right behind your school at 11am on a Tuesday. 

You recognize him before his curly head whips around to locate the source of alarm. What other guy at Hawkins High has chipped black nail polish and avoids barbershops? More importantly, who else sells drugs at your school? Eddie’s got that job dominated. 

“Shit.” Is all he says when he spots you there. His tone is flat, deadpan. 

You ignore him in favour of sitting cross-legged on the pavement, gravel crunching beneath your soles before you press your back against cold brick. 

You just want him to go away. To be alone. 

Staring down at your scuffed Chucks, you begin to pull at a loose thread at the bottom of your frayed pant leg, winding it around the tip of your index finger until it turns white, then unwinding it so the blood comes rushing back with warmth. 

When you hear his heavy footfalls, you think maybe your luck hasn’t run out and he might be leaving. But the crunching of gravel does not recede down the alleyway.

Black Doc Martens enter your vision. You stop pulling at the loose thread and stare at the boots for a second before your gaze meanders up to his face. 

“Please don’t tell anyone, alright?” Eddie’s tone is non-threatening and hopeful. 

“Wasn’t gonna.” You shrug, couldn’t care less about the drug habits of the people you go to school with. Or how they acquire said drugs. Who would you tell anyway? The cops? Fuck that. 

Despite the confirmation of your silence Eddie stays put, feet shuffling across gravel, rocks scraping beneath the thick soles. 

You avert your gaze, will your voice not to break when you say, “Will you please just go?” But it betrays you, cracking just slightly on the final syllable. As your teeth dig into your bottom lip, you hope he doesn’t notice. 

Eyes burning and staring intently at a triangle-shaped pebble, you hold your breath, think, don’t say it, don’t say it, please don’t say it. 

“Are you okay?” 

Fuck.

Unwillingly, your face crumples and you bury it in your hands, face warming from being watched as you break down. Tears stream down your face silently, thick and hot as they wet your palms and slide down your wrists. 

There’s the crunch of gravel again, but he isn’t walking away like you expected anyone might. Who’d want to stick around with a stranger having an emotional breakdown? 

But then you feel warmth at your side as he crouches down and leans against the wall beside you, nearly shoulder-to-shoulder. 

Any remaining energy you had has been spent on your short exchange with him, so you have none left to plead with him anymore. But as the tears keep coming and your shoulders keep shaking, you find that you don’t mind his presence so much. He doesn’t touch you or invade your space in any way, doesn’t ask why you’re crying or try to stop it. 

Eddie just sits with you. Stares out at the swaying trees in the forest beyond the school and silently sits. Even though your skin isn’t touching it’s like he’s holding your hand. 

While you never bought into any of the rumours you’d heard whispered about him in the corridors, you were never completely sure of his kindness. Though now you see he wears his eccentricities as armour. It seems Eddie is softer than the tough iron of his armor would suggest. 

His motives now are clear: he doesn’t want to leave you alone in the state you’re in. Which is more kindness than anyone at this school has ever shown you. 

In actuality, it’s the most attention anyone at this school has ever shown you. Unlike Eddie, you’re mostly just ignored, left alone. Eddie isn’t going to let that happen now. 

The pair of you are probably quite the sight. And not just because you’re openly sobbing next to him. The Freak and the Loner Girl. If you were seen together you’re sure your bored peers would have some more rumours to spread. 

When your tears dry up and you’re left with a snotty nose and dry eyes, you look out at the forest in silence with him. Staring out blanky at the shedding foliage, your breathing slows and the wind whistles. The wind kissing your cheeks is strangely comforting. Or maybe it’s just Eddie. 

In your periphery, you see him shift as he pulls his ringed hand out of the pocket of his jacket. Eddie–who you’ve only just noticed smells really good, like leather and fresh rain–shoves his hand beneath the leather to dig around in an inside pocket. 

For one silly, brief moment you think he might be about to offer you a small pouch of white powder. 

Then he pulls his hand out. It’s a tissue. 

Eddie Munson is offering you a tissue. 

The metalhead keeps tissues in his jacket. And drugs. But also tissues. 

Looking from the tissue to him, Eddie gives you a soft reassuring smile. You take it from him gingerly. “Thank you.” 

Eddie nods shortly. “Yeah.”

“You, um, you didn’t have to sit with me,” you say once you’ve wiped your nose clean, looking at him fully for the first time since you broke down. His eyes are so dark. You’ve never been close enough to notice until now. 

“I know.” A beat of silence follows his sweet sincerity where all you can hear is the sound of the trees gently whooshing in the wind. “But I’ve seen you around. You’re alone a lot.” 

“Oh.” He’s seen you around? 

“You don’t deserve to be, by the way,” he adds quickly. “Especially not…now.” 

You look away with a small smile and a soft breath through your nose. Though his delivery is a little awkward, the sentiment causes warmth to flood your chest. 

“Right,” you reply, chuckling a little as you meet his eyes again. When he smiles this time, a dimple pops into his cheek. Pretty eyes and dimples?

Smacking his thighs resolutely, Eddie pushes himself up off the pavement to stand in front of you, offers you his hand. You stare up at him, your own hands twitching in your lap, buzzing with anticipation. 

“C’mon,” Eddie prompts, nodding his head to the side. “Let’s go.” 

“Where?” 

“Anywhere you wanna go.” 

Drawing your lip into your mouth, you chew on it contemplatively. 

You don’t have to think long about your answer. Why on Earth would you stay here and wallow when this sweet, kind boy with melted chocolate for eyes is offering you his hand?

[gibberishfangirl]

WIND BREAKER | getting caught

Synopsis ✰ how the boys react to the two of you getting walked in on during the heat of the moment

Characters ✰ Haruka Sakura, Hajime Umemiya, Akihiko Nirei, Jo Togame, Choji Tomiyama

Contains ✰ spicy; explicit content, semi-public, slight aggressive behavior, humping, biting, marks, love bites, groping, 18+ / nsfw!

Haruka Sakura ᡣ𐭩

you couldn’t help it, it’s hard to hold back with Sakura when you love how much of a blushing mess you can make him. seeing him unfold underneath you triggers something dark inside of you. “you’re so cute when you make that face Sakura.” you cooed in between the kisses you were placing on your boyfriends lips.

“shut up- no i’m not.” your boyfriend barked back at you with a scowl. however, the deep red blush forming on his cheeks says he likes what you have to say. he could never pinpoint why he lets you get away with so much. he doesn’t understand the power you hold over him, why he says yes to your every request, why he would do anything for you, or why he can’t help but blush and tremble over the sweet nothings you whispered to him during these moments.

“don’t say that, i think you’re more than very cute.” you teased the poor boy. the two of you were on your way to get some food before you had dragged him into a dark alley to kiss him, and for some reason he let you. he let you have him against the wall, your soft fingers tugging at his split hair making him weak. he let out a groan as you pulled his hair in order to drag him down to your lips.

“touch me? please?” you pleaded with big round innocent eyes as if you weren’t the one who got the two of you in this position anyways. he nodded desperately giving you permission to guide his hands to your body. you placed his hands on your hips and then down to your ass before tip toeing up to him to plant more kisses on his face. this time around he felt the tip of his ears growing an antagonizing amount of heat on them.

“y/n lets go to my place? yeah?” Sakura asked shyly. he had gotten so easily worked up from kissing he wanted to skip the dinner all together and go straight to his place. you had gotten yourself so worked up to the point where you also wanted to skip dinner. you frantically nodded at his request and he let out a sigh of relief. you were such in a rush you grabbed his hand and started to lead the way out before he pulled you back into him.

“w-wait. i need some time.” he shamefully admitted, his face probably being the reddest you made it all day. you were slightly confused at first until your eyes made its way down and you saw his raging boner making it’s appearance.

“want me to make it go away?” you offered reaching down to his belt. you had felt guilty at this point for making him get so hard in public and it won’t be awhile until he gets some relief. Sakura bit his lip thinking about whether or not he should take up your offer. he ended up shaking his head no, he didn’t want to risk anyone seeing you. instead you opted out to just standing in front of him in case anyone walks by so they won’t have to see his package trying to break free from his jeans. you thought that would be the end of it until you felt Sakura’s hands grab your hips. “can i?” he asked gently before you responded with a nod, soon after he was pushing your ass against his crotch as he let out a small groan. you felt your face heat up as he started to shamelessly rut himself against you. he had his face buried against the nape of your neck.

“OH HEY GUYS!” a voice yelled. it caused the two of you to sharply look up at the direction of the voice. you squinted before recognizing the person running up to you two was Nirei. “what are you guys doing here?” he asked innocently confused. Sakura was trying to regain his composure meanwhile you still felt his hard on pressing against your ass.

“it was too sunny, we got hot while walking so we decided to get some shade.” you responded with smooth lie and smile which Nirei completely believed. “ah makes sense, where are you guys going?? i’ll join you!” he smiled. you were unsure of how to respond just smiling at your very innocent and naive friend. he would third wheel on your dates every once in a while which you didn’t mind.

“don’t worry about it, go away.” Sakura interrupted causing Nirei to glare at him. you elbowed your boyfriend before scolding him, “don’t be rude!” the conversation ended with all three of you agreeing to go get dinner. the entire walk there Sakura stayed closely behind you while you held his hand and led the way.

Hajime Umemiya ᡣ𐭩

“Ume… what if someone comes?” you shyly asked your boyfriend as he was leaving a trail of kisses from your neck to the corner of the mouth. you pulled away slightly in order to meet his gaze.

he couldn’t help but smile at your cute shyness, “no one will come, it’s fine.” before you could protest more, he pushed you down onto the ground chuckling at the tiny squeak you let out. you caved in as he captured your lips with his own. you felt his long fingers grazing your sides and hips as he deepened the kiss.

one of your favorite things to do with your loving boyfriend was to help him with his gardening. the term “help” can be used loosely as the two of you always got carried away during the gardening seasons. it’s gotten to the point where almost everyone knows better than to interrupt the two of you while “gardening”. Ume has made it clear over time, again and again, that he does not like getting interrupted while he’s spending time with his cute girlfriend.

the two of you had gotten carried away in your kissing as Ume had already begun abusing your lips. he loved to bite, lick, suck, and harshly nip your plump lips since he adored seeing how red/purple they got after he was done. you felt yourself instinctively arching your back upwards to him to gain some type of friction between you two. Ume was placed perfectly in between your legs as he borderline starts rutting himself against you. before you knew it, you were letting out small moans and whimpers begging for more.

“can i? please.” Ume had been fiddling with the hem of your shirt while marking your neck and collarbone with harsh bites and bruises. he waited until you frantically nodded before slipping his cold hands underneath the fabric of your top. he instantly wrapped his large hands around your breasts cupping each one. they fit perfectly in his hands, he’s fully convinced your body is made for him. no one could tell him otherwise and fortunately he didn’t want to hear it either.

Ume had almost gotten so caught up in the moment he could’ve missed the sound of the rooftop door opening. he instantly sat up catching you off guard. you let out a small whine from losing his touch. before you can even mutter a word out, Ume had reached out for a sweater he had and thrown it over your body.

“UME!” a group of voices screamed while another familiar yelled out “wait! don’t-“

you froze in place, grateful for your boyfriends huge build as he covered most of your presence behind him. you quickly recovered once you realized the situation and you instantly threw on the sweater Ume had thrown at you before. you finally peeked at the commotion and saw Hiragi with a group of young boys at the door. you hoped no one saw the marks on your body, based on the way they were looking at you, they did.

“you idiots! I told you not to come in!” Hiragi scolded the group of boys. Ume had been completely silent but his energy was gut wrenching as you could pinpoint the pure annoyance he felt.

“jeez, what are you?! some kind of animal?!” one of the boys yelled referring to the marks Ume left on you. your face felt an entire new level of warmth. you looked to Ume who only smiled in response. a smile that hid many emotions, one that definitely hid the current anger he felt. truth be told, he wasn’t all that mad at being caught, he was more angry because they were still there and didn’t leave.

“is this an emergency?” Ume finally asked. there were only crickets in response. once no one responded Ume felt himself get more internally angry because he had to stop his moment with you for no reason. Ume’s smile finally dropped as he glared at the group of boys. the glare alone sent all of them running down the door, slamming it closed behind them. Ume let out a groan after they left and plopped to the ground as you could only giggle in response to his frustration.

Akihiko Nirei ᡣ𐭩

“y/n- wait- no- we shouldn’t do this.” Nirei pleaded with you. his eyes anxiously moving between you and the door. his hands held a stern hold on your hips as he prevented you from moving. the two of you were in an empty classroom together and had been previously making out. you were currently straddling him as he was sitting on a chair near a desk. the two of you had been so busy lately you haven’t had a chance to be alone… until now.

“it’ll be fine, it’s not like we’ll be the first couple to do something like this. besides there’s still 40 minutes until class, no one comes this early” you argued as you wrapped your hands around his neck slightly playing with the back of his hair.

Nirei bit his bottom lip not removing his eyes off the door, obviously contemplating his decision of whether or not to continue. it’s true, unfortunately you two haven’t had much alone time. to give this up would be insane of him to do considering what a missed opportunity it would be.

“please ni’, for me.” you pleaded interrupting his thoughts. you began to grind your hips against his crotch causing him to let out a small groan. he could never say no, not to you. especially not when you looked so pretty with your flushed cheeks looking up at him with those eyes.

he was gripping your hips so tightly it hurt. it hurt in a way that made you feel so good. with how hard he holding you, he could leave bruises. he wasn’t intentionally hurting you, he would never. in fact, he wasn’t even aware of how strong his grip was. his mind was hazed with thoughts of you flooding them, he’s trying to regain his control. the control he didn’t even have over himself, it was something only you held. he was painfully hard as his cock was starting to ache. eventually Nirei started to guide your hips onto him while trying to fight back any groan from leaving.

you crashed your lips against his in order to silence your own whimpers. you were wearing a short skirt and the fabric of his jean pants felt so good pressed against you. you pressed yourself down harder in order to gain any more friction. you needed him like you never needed him before, it had been too long. as embarrassing as it was for Nirei to admit it, he felt himself getting close, you were making him feel so so good. groans were spewing from his pretty lips before he knew it, he buried his face on the crook of your neck. he couldn’t hold it together as he felt himself losing composure. the both of you could feel yourself getting wet against him.

“fuck~ you’re so wet.” he groaned as his hands lowered themselves onto your ass pushing you closer to him making you whimper once more.

you quickly became a moaning mess, the friction feeling too good. Nirei removed himself from your neck in order to look up at your face. you were so beautiful whenever you were worked up like this. your face was completely red and flushed from the tension. with the way your legs were practically trembling and how tears were threatening to fall from your eyes he knew you were close. “so pretty” he murmured softly as he placed a sweet kiss on your lips. the two of you nearly on ends ready to collapse together. until you heard the door slide open and both of you froze in place.

“hey Nirei, someone told me they saw you come in here.” a voice started but trailed off as they noticed the position you two were in.

to Nirei’s pleasant surprise he found himself regaining control quickly. he managed to cool his face off fast and gain composure before looking over at the door. you, however, couldn’t do the same. you quickly turned your face to the opposite side of the room avoiding any contact with the person at the door. Nirei was feeling both relieved and embarrassed to see Suo at the door. he didn’t believe Suo actually knew what the two of you were doing. in hindsight, anyone would assume the two of you were having a casual make out session. Suo, in fact didn’t think anything more was happening either. he was blindsided to the absolute desperation that was previously unfolding.

“my apologies, I didn’t realize you were here with your girlfriend.” Suo spoke honestly. he excused himself and left while saying “I’ll see you in class Nirei.” he was already planning to 100% tease Nirei in class.

Nirei let a sigh of relief slip as soon as Suo left and closed the door. the two of you sat in silence for a moment before Nirei peeked to see your expression. you were incredibly red with embarrassment which caused him to smile. he couldn’t help it, you were always the bold one in the relationship so seeing you behave otherwise was adorable to him. you finally turned to face him with a glare as if it was his fault the two of you had gotten caught.

“don’t look at me like that, you know this was your idea anyways.” Nirei smiled nervously, in response to your glare. your glare didn’t last long since you knew he was right.

“how embarrassing!” you exclaimed as you covered your face with your hands and buried yourself into his chest. Nirei could only laugh in response before ruffling your hair. he embraced you as he tried to comfort you.

“could’ve been worse.”

Jo Togame ᡣ𐭩

“Toga we should stop, someone can come in.” you argued trying to pry your tall boyfriend off of you who was currently suffocating you in his french kisses. you heard him let out an annoyed groan before pulling away.

“who cares, you act like i can’t just make them disappear.” he says with a slight threatening undertone causing you to pout. you’ve told the man before that he can’t just keep threatening to beat anyone up when he doesn’t get his way. of course he never listens, he’s so used to getting what he wants. not that you could blame him, you’re the one who constantly spoils him.

“that’s not the point!” you argued back. despite arguing back you still tilted your head up so your boyfriend can get more access to you as he started kissing the skin on your neck, softly inhaling your sweet scent. Jo Togame will most definitely be the absolute death of you. he was the worst, so demanding, needy, and god help yourself, you were willing to give him anything he wants in life.

“so pretty” he murmured before clashing your lips together, swiftly slipping his tongue into your mouth making you gasp. he took it as an opportunity to deepen the kiss more before grabbing your hips and pulling you up. you instinctively wrapped your legs around him in return to the action. you were unsure of how it happened but the two of you had accidentally lost balance and landed on the ground. Togame broke your fall by flipping you two over so he was the one who landed on his back meanwhile you stayed on top.

“ouch.” he groaned while you on the other hand were still trying to catch your breath. “i prefer this position anyways.” he spoke before cupping your face and pulling you down to him. he returned to eagerly exploring every inch of the inside of your mouth, swirling his tongue around yours. you couldn’t stop the small mewls from coming out due to Togame’s rough kissing. he always kissed you as it’d be the last time he gets the chance.

“wow, this is a new style of fighting for you Togame.” a voice pitched up in amusement.

you wanted to jump at the sound of the voice but couldn’t. Togame had a strong hand wrapped around the back of your neck keeping you in place. “mmph!” you whined out before grabbing a hold of his shirt and pulling yourself up completely. he was insane, actually insane. how could he continue making out with you knowing someone else was in the room with you two. you glared at him with narrowed eyes while panting trying to regain control of your breath. he had an amused smirk placed on his face at your reaction.

“what do you want Choji? i’m busy, go away.” Togame causally addressed his small friend who was towering over the two of you watching the situation unfold. you went to get up completely but Toga moved his strong hold to your hips before you could. you pouted at your boyfriend in disapproval which he only smiled at.

“i’m so boreddddd, come hang out with me.” Choji complained as he dramatically threw himself over a chair.

“cant, im with my girlfriend.”

“who cares, bring her too. just don’t make out while we’re together.”

“no. go away.”

“PLEASE.”

“no. bye”

“dude.”

the boys continued to bicker while you facepalmed in defeat. how did you always get stuck in these situations? and why the hell was your boyfriend always so shameless? shouldn’t he care more? his solution can’t always be a threat, could it?

Choji Tomiyama ᡣ𐭩

you and Choji came from two different worlds. you went to a private all girls school and had met Choji on your way home. the two of you hit it off from there. Choji was almost the complete opposite of you, happy, loud, cheerful, so full of energy. you were a straight A student along with being student body president. you had a lot on your plate so being around someone who radiated such care free energy made you happy. the two of you were currently hanging out at the ori, one of Choji’s favorite places.

“come here” Choji said snapping you out of your trance. he was standing in the middle of the stage with the biggest grin on his face. you raised an eyebrow, unsure of why he wanted you up there. nonetheless, you made your way up, it felt weird being up there. it made you feel small, you couldn’t imagine how it would feel being up here with a full audience, all eyes on you. Choji smiled as he grabbed your wrists pulling you closer causing you to blush.

“I want to teach you how to take someone down.” Choji believed everyone should fight, it was more fun that way. Choji was explaining what to do but you were so spaced out, only paying attention to his lips and the way his eyes shined bright with pure excitement. you couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to spend this time doing something else more ‘fun’. you felt like a pervert thinking about him in a manner that wasn’t all that innocent or friendly.

before you can even react to what was happening you were sharply knocked off your feet. you let out a yelp and closed your eyes bracing yourself for the impact. the impact that never came as you felt a pair of arms catch you and gently place you down on the floor. your eyes fluttered open to meet Choji’s soft brown eyes. it took you a second before realizing he was on top of you, you felt your cheeks heat up by having him be so close.

“y/n, you weren’t listening were you?” he asked softly looking down at you as he grabbed your wrists once more holding them above your head.

“I-I was distracted. plus i’m not wearing fighting clothes!” you defensively said in return. his eyes moved from your face and trailed down your body until he saw the placement of his knee in between your thighs. your school uniform skirt was hiked up past your mid-thigh, exposing more skin than usual.

“I suppose that’s true.” Choji murmured before rubbing his knee up against your clothed cunt. you let out a small whimper in return before softly moaning his name. “hm? that feel good?” he asked locking his lips onto your neck, gently sucking on your smooth skin. Choji couldn’t help himself before moving one of his hands down to rub your cute little clothed cunt. he let out a small groan once he got a peek of your baby pink lacey underwear.

“oh god~ Choji, so so good” you moaned out trying to grind your hips against his fingers. you and Choji didn’t get a lot of chances to be this close but whenever you did it felt like heaven. something you’ve come to learn is that Choji is pleasantly talented with his hands in a way that didn’t involve fighting or any type of violence.

“let me taste you?” Choji asked looking up at you while guiding his head down. “yes please” you begged, before he could spread your legs the auditorium door opened with a bang. you immediately slammed your legs closed and sat up in response. Choji let out an irritated growl to losing you in your vulnerable position.

“get the fuck out.” Choji spat sharply turning to whoever opened the door. Choji’s demeanor changed into something unrecognizable. it was something you didn’t have any familiarity with. you watched as his eyes darken, he stood up and jumped off the stage. in all honesty, you felt guilty since an embarrassing amount of arousal reached your core from seeing him behave so deadly and intimidatingly. the poor guy let out a spew of apologies before running out. you heard Choji let out a deep sigh as he closed his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. his anger clearly wasn’t going away, all you were thinking about was how you could help him relieve himself.

“Choji.” your voice broke him out of his trance as he opened his eyes and snapped his head towards you. he made his way up to you and once he was close enough you gripped his shirt and pulled him closer. “c-can we keep going? please.” you begged looking up at him only for his dark eyes to already be staring down at you. he smirked before grabbing the back of your neck and crashing your lips together roughly.

a/n <3 : phewww this was a long one, I got carried away :’D I really wanted to include Suo but I was struggling to imagine him getting caught. I feel like he’d be so sneaky and careful it’d be impossible to catch him lacking. maybe part two with him ???? idkk. also nirei’s section might be a bit ooc since i got carried away while writing his part </3 this was my first time writing explicit content in a while, sorry if it’s a bit rough, hope yall still enjoy <33

[ch0llies]

ROCK ME | CHRISTOPHER STURNIOLO

oneshot - sunshine!reader x goldenboy!chris

Your relationship with Chris Sturniolo is the epitome of a first teenage love. It’s late night drives with the music too loud, whispered secrets under the covers, and sneaking into each other's houses just to fall asleep wrapped up in each other. It’s the kind of love that feels like summer. It’s warm, wild, and infinite. But with him, it’s not just a season. It’s all year round.

story warnings: smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), p in v, multiple rounds, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial (if you squint), fluff, established relationship, etc. If any of these topics upset you...don't read!

word count: 10k (sorry)

The wind rushes through your beach-waved hair, the summer heat warming your body as laughter bubbles past your lips. The bass from the speakers vibrates through your chest. You’re weightless, golden, and free, just like the setting sun in the sky.

Chris lighty grips the steering wheel with one hand, the other draped lazily over the console between you. His black Ray-Bans sit low on his nose, and he tilts his head slightly, peeking over the frames to catch a glimpse of you.

That signature smirk tugs at his lips- the one that got you hooked in the first place, the one that still makes your stomach flip, the one you could never say no to.

The warm glow of the sun catches on his skin, highlighting the freckles scattered across his nose. He looks so effortlessly beautiful. The kind of boy you’d write songs about. You have no idea how he’s yours.

You’re wearing nothing but an orange string bikini top and a pair of light-wash denim shorts, the fabric rough against your sunburnt skin. Chris isn’t wearing much more. Just pink swim trunks and a backward Somerville High cap, a reminder of your life beyond these summer nights.

But you don’t want to think about that.

Unbuckling your seatbelt, you shift onto your knees, climbing onto the center console. Chris barely has a second to react before you’re pushing yourself up and out through the open sunroof, arms spreading wide as the night swallows you whole.

The second your head breaches the top, you scream- loud and free, the sound ripping through the air and blending with the music. The wind hits you harder than you thought, stealing the breath from your lungs, pushing the extra skin on your face back. The sky stretches out above you, painted in deep pinks and oranges.

Chris’s laughter rumbles beneath you, but his grip is firm when he slides a hand up your waist, fingers pressing against the bare skin just above your shorts. “Be careful, baby,” he yells, his voice barely carrying over the wind, but you hear it. You feel it. The warmth of his palm spreads across your skin, grounding you even as you chase the high of the moment.

You tip your head back, hair tangling messily in the wind, letting out another breathless laugh. The music is deafening, the bass pounding through your body, but all you can focus on is the feeling- the reckless, intoxicating freedom of being here, with him, like this. In love.

Chris’s fingers trace slow circles against your side, his grip tightening as if to remind you he’s there. He’s always there. “You’re gonna get yourself killed,” he mutters, but there’s no real frustration in his voice.

You dip your head forward, glancing down at him through strands of hair, your chest rising and falling with the adrenaline still buzzing through you. “At least I’d die happy,” you tease, voice breathless, full of laughter.

Chris shakes his head, lips tugging into a smirk. “Not happening,” he says, his fingers grazing up your ribs, sending a shiver through you despite the summer heat. “I’m not done with you yet.”

The world feels endless up here, with the wind in your hair, the night sky stretching out forever. But nothing compares to the way Chris’s hands feel against your skin- warm, steady, always there.

You don’t have to look down to know he’s watching you, the way he always does. Like he can’t believe you’re real. He really should be looking at the road but you’re not even mad.

Chris is the golden boy of Somerville High. Captain of the lacrosse team, hometown hero, the kind of guy teachers brag about long after he’s left their classrooms. The guy everyone wants to be, wants to know, wants to love. He walks down the halls like he belongs to them, like Somerville itself is stitched into his skin, and maybe it is.

And you?

You’re the sunshine girl. The one who gets along with everyone, who turns strangers into friends with nothing but a smile. The girl who gets good grades without trying too hard, who sings too loud at parties, who dances barefoot in the grass just because she can. You’re golden in a different way- soft and bright, light spilling into every room you walk into.

Maybe that’s why it never made sense. Why people still don’t get it. But you do. You know how it happened.

You know it started long before anyone else had noticed. Before the stolen glances, before the late-night drives, before he whispered your name like a secret he never wanted to share.

It started in eighth grade, when he caught you skipping class to sit in the empty stands of the football field, watching the sky instead of paying attention to anything else. He sat next to you without a word, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You get lost up there too?” he’d asked, nodding toward the clouds.

You’d just smiled, something soft, something easy. “Yeah,” you’d said. “Guess I do.”

It started freshman year, when he saw you crying behind the gym after another boy on the lacrosse team that you had a crush on asked a different girl to hoco. And instead of making some dumb joke, he just sat with you. Shoulder to shoulder, silence stretching between you, solid and safe.

It started sophomore year, at some house party, when the music was too loud and the air was too thick and his eyes…God, his eyes. They were locked on you like you were the only thing worth looking at. You don’t remember who kissed who first. Maybe it was both of you, leaning in at the same time, laughter turning into something else, something breathless.

You do remember the way he groaned against your lips, the way his hands tangled in your hair like he’d been waiting for this for years. The way he lifted you, effortlessly and careless, and pressed you against the wall like he was never going to let you go.

But that was nothing compared to the first time.

Junior year. The backseat of his Jeep, parked down by the beach, the moon high in the sky. Your body still damp from the water, his skin burning hot against yours. He looked at you like he was afraid to blink, like he needed to memorize everything. The curve of your lips, the tilt of your chin, the way your breath hitched when he traced lazy circles on your hip.

“I’ve never-” you’d started, but he kissed the words right out of your mouth, slow and deep and reverent.

“I know,” he murmured, forehead resting against yours. “Me neither.”

Then he was everywhere, hands and lips and warmth and the most intimate parts of him. And you were his, in a way that felt bigger than a single night. In a way that felt like forever.

Now, here you are. The summer before senior year.

You drop back down into your seat, breathless, the rush still buzzing through your veins. Chris doesn’t let go of you, doesn’t even pretend to be annoyed. Instead, he rubs slow circles into your sunburnt skin, his thumb brushing over the edge of your bikini top, something soft in his touch.

You turn your head, watching him as he drives, golden and effortless.

“What?” he asks, side-eyeing you.

You shrug, grinning. “Just thinking about how unfair it is that you’re so pretty.”

Chris snorts, but there’s a blush creeping up his neck. “You’re one to talk, baby.”

Your life is made up of moments like this. Soft, sweet, and beautiful. All because of him.

Like the time he helped you pick your dress for junior year prom.

You’d dragged him to the boutique, standing on the fitting room pedestal while he lounged in one of the chairs, arms crossed over his chest, looking entirely out of place among the frilly pink decor.

“You know I don’t care what you wear, baby,” he’d grumbled, watching as you stepped out in another dress. “You’d look good in anything.”

“You have to care,” you insisted, spinning around so the skirt flared out. “I need honest opinions.”

Chris rolled his eyes, but there was something soft in his gaze as he studied you. Then he stood, walked over, and reached out to tug at the orange fabric, his fingers brushing your exposed back.

“This one,” he said simply, eyes locked on yours in the mirror. “Wear this one.”

And when prom night came, when you stepped out of your house and into the golden glow of the streetlights, Chris just stood there, blinking like he forgot how to breathe.

“Damn,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Baby, you’re gonna kill me.”

Or the time he came on vacation with your family.

You had spent weeks convincing your parents, listing all the reasons why bringing your boyfriend wouldn’t be an issue.

“He’s basically part of the family already,” you argued.

And maybe that was true, but you were still surprised when they agreed, letting Chris tag along to your beach house rental for a week in July.

It was like a dream. Waking up to the sound of the waves, sneaking out of the room your parents assigned Chris. And especially the mornings you’d both sneak out of the house just before sunrise, Chris pulling you into the water before the world was even awake.

“You’re insane,” you whispered, legs wrapped around his waist as the tide lapped against your skin.

Chris just grinned, his hands holding you tight, safe. “Yeah. insanely in love with you.”

And then, of course, there were the lacrosse games.

You went to every single one, always in the front row, always wearing his number on your cheek in red glitter paint.

Chris had his routine. Right before a game, right before he ran onto the field, he’d find you in the crowd. You’d blow him a kiss, and he’d pretend to catch it, pressing his fingers to his lips like it was some kind of good luck charm.

“You know I have to do that, right?” he’d told you once, breathless after a win, sweat dripping down his temples. “Superstition. Can’t play without it.”

“Uh-huh,” you teased, reaching up to push his damp hair out of his eyes. “So you winning is all me, huh?”

Chris grinned, looping his arms around your waist. “Exactly.” Then, without warning, he picked you up, spinning you in circles until you were shrieking with laughter. “You’re my good luck charm, sunshine.”

And then there was that time. The time that haunts you to this day. The time his parents walked in on you.

Chris’s bedroom. His hands in your hair, your nails digging into his shoulders, both of you breathless, caught up in each other, making far too much noise, until the door opened.

You didn’t even have time to react before MaryLou gasped, spinning on her heel so fast she nearly fell over.

“Jesus Christ, Christopher,” was all she said before slamming the door.

Chris just groaned, dropping his forehead against your shoulder. “We’re so dead.”

The next day, he came home to a box of condoms sitting on his bed. No note. Nothing.

He held them up when you walked in, blinking like he was still in shock. “My parents hate me. I don’t know how I can ever look my mother in the eye again.”

You burst into laughter, doubling over on his bed. “I think they just don’t want grandkids yet.”

Chris groaned, tossing the box across the room. “Unbelievable.”

You had laughed then, breathless and teasing, throwing yourself back onto his bed. But that was months ago.

Chris was still driving with one hand on the wheel, the other now resting against your thigh. His fingers trace slow, lazy patterns over your skin, dipping just beneath the frayed edges of your denim shorts. It’s an innocent touch, but your body reacts like it always does. He has completely burned himself into you.

The warmth of his palm seeps into your skin, his thumb brushing back and forth, featherlight, like he’s not even thinking about it. But you know Chris, know the way his mind works, the way his hands move with purpose, even when he pretends they don’t.

You shift slightly in your seat, pressing your thighs together in an attempt to ignore the slow fire building under his touch. Chris notices, of course he notices, and his smirk deepens, barely visible in the dimming light.

“Something wrong, baby?” he asks, voice smooth, teasing.

You roll your eyes, but it doesn’t carry much weight. Not when your pulse is hammering against your ribs, not when the song “Rock Me” playing through the speakers seems to fit too well, like fate decided to soundtrack this exact moment.

You glance at him, and God, he’s so mesmerizing. One hand gripping the wheel, muscles taut beneath sun-kissed skin, his jaw sharp in the golden light. His lips are parted slightly, tongue running over his bottom one like he’s deep in thought.

Like he’s remembering, too.

“Do you remember summer ’09? Wanna go back there every night…”

Chris exhales a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Remember this song?”

Your heart flutters, something deep and wanting. You know what he’s thinking.

You remember that night. It was after a lacrosse game, after driving three hours to the playoff game that he scored the game winning goal in. Somehow, you ended up tangled in his backseat, hands desperate, mouths hungry.

Your voice had been breathless against his ear. “I want you to rock me, Chris.”

And he did. Again and again and again.

The memory makes heat curl in your stomach, makes your breath catch just slightly, and Chris knows. His fingers flex against your thigh, grip tightening just enough to make your skin prickle with anticipation.

You turn to face him fully, shifting so your knee brushes against the gearshift.

“You’re such a tease,” you murmur, eyes locked onto him.

Chris grins, slow and dangerous. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

His hand slides just a little higher, not quite enough, but enough.

You suck in a sharp breath, and he laughs, that soft, lazy laugh that always makes your stomach flip.

The song builds, the chorus swelling, wrapping around you both.

“I want you to hit the pedal heavy metal, show me you care…”

Chris leans in slightly, voice dropping lower. “Sing it for me, baby.”

You shake your head, biting your lip to fight the smile threatening to break free. “You’re so fucking annoying.”

He just squeezes your thigh again, dragging his fingers in slow, torturous circles. “And yet, you’re still in love with me.”

And God, you are. Wildly, recklessly, endlessly in love with him.

Chris just grins, the kind that’s all mischief and golden-boy charm, the kind that makes your stomach flip even after all this time. His fingers linger on your thigh, slow and deliberate, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

You roll your eyes, pushing his hand off playfully, even though you already miss the warmth of his touch. “Pay attention to the road before we crash, golden boy.”

He snorts, but obliges, turning his focus back ahead as the Jeep glides down the quiet summer streets. The sun has nearly disappeared now, the sky shifting from honey-gold to deep navy, the kind of night that feels endless, the kind that makes you believe you’ll never have to grow up.

Then, as if reading your mind, Chris leans back, one hand lazily resting on the wheel, the other drumming against your thigh again. “You hungry?”

Your stomach growls at the mention, making him laugh, and you groan, slumping into the seat. “Shut up.”

Chris shakes his head, reaching for the console to turn down the music. “Nah, this is why I keep you around. You’re so cute when you’re mad.”

You swat at his arm, and he catches your wrist easily, pulling your knuckles to his lips for a quick, teasing kiss.

“McDonald’s?” he suggests, voice light, like he already knows the answer.

Your eyes narrow. “You just want an excuse to get a large fry and make me feed them to you while you drive.”

Chris shrugs, smirking. “And?”

And ten minutes later, you’re sitting in the McDonald’s drive-thru, Chris rattling off the usual order—two large fries, a ten-piece McNugget, a McDouble for him, and a vanilla milkshake for you. It’s routine by now, muscle memory. You don’t even have to ask for extra napkins, because Chris already grabs them, stuffing them in the glove box where he knows you’ll need them later.

The second he pulls out of the parking lot, he’s already reaching into the bag, shoving a fry into his mouth.

“Hey, those are mine,” you scold, reaching over to smack his hand away.

Chris just laughs, shoving another one in his mouth before holding a fry up to your lips, eyebrows raised expectantly. You huff but take a bite anyway.

The drive back is comfortable in the way only summer nights can be. You hum along to the song he had playing on aux, dipping fries into your milkshake, and Chris sneaks sips of it every time you aren’t looking even though you secretly know he does it.

By the time you pull into his driveway, the house is quiet, the lights off except for the faint glow from the kitchen window. His parents are asleep and his brothers probably are too.

Chris shifts into park, then turns to you, smirking. “Wanna come in?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Like you have to ask.”

He grins, pushing open his door before jogging around to yours, yanking it open with dramatic flair. “M’lady,” he teases, offering his hand.

You roll your eyes but take it anyway, letting him pull you out before he slams the door shut as quietly as possible. You both make your way to the side of the house, where Chris knows exactly which windows creak, which steps to avoid.

By the time you sneak upstairs and get to his bedroom, Chris is already kicking off his shoes and tossing his hat onto his desk before he goes to his closet and put on a random teeshirt.

You plop onto his bed, stealing a handful of fries from the bag. “You know,” you say between bites, “your parents definitely know we do this.”

Chris flops down beside you, pressing his head into your shoulder dramatically. “Yeah, well, after the whole condom thing, I think they’ve just accepted it.”

You laugh, turning your face into his hair, inhaling the faint scent of saltwater. “You’re never getting over that, huh?”

Chris groans. “I still can’t look my mother in the eye sometimes. It’s so awkward. She definitely saw my dick.”

“She birthed and raised you. She’s already seen you naked.” You laugh.

“Yeah but that’s different!” He exclaims in a whisper, digging his head even further into your shoulder.

You laugh, before setting the food aside and turning toward him fully. He lifts his head from you and his eyes flicker to yours, and for a moment, the teasing fades. The room is dimly lit, the only glow coming from his bedside lamp, casting everything in a soft, golden hue.

He reaches out, tucking a loose strand of your tangled beachy hair behind your ear. “You tired?”

You shake your head, voice softer now. “No.”

Chris nods, thumb grazing the curve of your cheek before he leans in, pressing a slow, lazy kiss to your lips. It’s not hurried, not rushed like it so often is. It’s sweet, gentle- like he’s savoring it, savoring you.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours.

“I love you so much, my beautiful girl,” he murmurs.

You smile, fingers curling into the fabric of his t-shirt. “I love you too, baby.”

Chris exhales softly, his breath warm against your lips, his hands never leaving your skin.

His thumb strokes gently over your cheekbone, tracing invisible patterns like he’s memorizing you all over again.

You lean in first this time, tilting your chin just enough to capture his lips again. It’s slow. So slow, like neither of you are in any rush, like you have forever to get lost in each other. His mouth moves with yours effortlessly, no desperation, no urgency. Just warmth. Just love.

Chris sighs into the kiss, pulling you closer, his hands sliding down to your waist, fingers pressing into the soft skin below your bikini.

You shift, pressing yourself closer, and he groans softly in response, deep in his throat. The sound sends a shiver down your spine, your fingers tightening around the fabric of his t-shirt.

He feels so good, smells so good, and you could stay here forever, tangled in him.

Chris tilts his head, deepening the kiss just slightly, just enough to make your breath catch. His hand spreads even further across the warm expanse of your back, his touch setting fire to your skin.

You sigh against his lips, melting into him as his other hand skims up your thigh. His fingertips brush along the frayed hem of your shorts, not pushing, just feeling, just reveling in the warmth of you.

When you pull back for air, his lips chase yours, barely letting you breathe before he’s pressing soft, lazy kisses along your jaw, down the curve of your neck.

“Chris,” you whisper, and he hums against your skin, his breath sending goosebumps down your arms.

“Hmm?” he murmurs, lips brushing the sensitive spot just below your ear.

You don’t answer, just tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging lightly, and he groans again, a sound that always makes your stomach tighten, makes your thighs squeeze around his hips.

His hands slide to your waist, gripping gently as he guides you into his lap, settling you over him like you belong there- like he’s been waiting for this, for you, all night.

You both pause, foreheads pressed together, chests rising and falling in sync.

His hands are steady on you, thumbs rubbing soft circles into your skin, and when he looks up at you, his eyes are heavy, dark with something deeper than just desire.

Love.

“I jus’ wanna take my time with you,” he murmurs, voice thick, fingers tracing along your spine. “Wanna kiss you slow. Wanna make you feel good.”

Your heart stutters, your body burning with something softer than lust, something heavier than need.

You press another kiss to his lips. Slow and deep and meaningful.

“Then do it.” you whisper against his mouth.

Chris doesn’t need to be told twice.

The moment the words leave your lips, he groans deep and low, something that rumbles through his chest and straight into your core. His hands tighten on your waist, fingers pressing into your skin as he tilts his head and devours you.

The softness melts into something new, something desperate and raw as he kisses you harder, mouth parting against yours, tongue sweeping over your bottom lip before slipping inside. It’s slow, but there’s an edge now- a hunger, a need.

His hands slide up your back, slipping beneath your bikini top, his thumbs grazing over your ribs and to the front, right over the softest parts of you. You shudder, pressing closer, gasping when he bites your lip, tugging just enough to make your stomach clench.

“Chris,” you breathe, and he hums before flipping you onto your back in one smooth motion.

His body is heavy over yours, deliciously warm, his hips pressing into you as his lips move down your jaw, down your neck, sucking and kissing until your skin is marked with his touch.

You arch into him, hands gripping at his back, before pulling at the hem of teeshirt. He gets the hint pretty quickly and rips it off before diving right back into you.

“You make me fucking crazy,” he mutters against your skin, lips ghosting over your collarbone before he’s tugging at the strings of your bikini top, undoing them with agonizing slowness.

You shiver, anticipation burning through you as his hands slide beneath the fabric, pushing it aside, palms gliding over your bare skin.

Chris exhales harshly, pulling back just enough to look at you. To really look at you. His pupils are blown, lips swollen from kissing you, his chest rising and falling like he’s trying to keep himself under control.

“Goddamn,” he breathes, shaking his head. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

You don’t get the chance to respond before his mouth is on you again, his head trailing lower, lower, leaving a path of heat down your torso.

Your back arches when his lips brush against your nipples, your fingers tangling in his hair, tugging lightly.

“Chris,” you gasp, breathless, already wrecked from just his mouth, his hands, the way he touches you.

He grins against your skin, his hands gripping your hips as he presses a kiss just above the waistband of your shorts.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he murmurs, voice thick, grinning with mischief. “I wanna hear you say it.”

You bite your lip, hips shifting beneath him, your body begging for more, but Chris is waiting, his eyes locked onto yours, watching every reaction, every little movement you make.

So you give him what he wants.

“I want you to rock me,” you whisper.

Chris groans, dropping his forehead against your stomach for half a second, like your words just wrecked him.

Then, he looks up at you, and his expression is nothing but pure, unfiltered lust.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes. “Anything you want.”

Chris’s lips trail lower, leaving a path of heat down your stomach, his breath warm against your skin. His hands are everywhere but they’re so fucking slow and deliberate. His fingers tracing over your hips, brushing the frayed hem of your shorts. His eyes flick up to meet yours, dark and wanting.

He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, tugging just enough to make your breath catch. “Can I take these off?” he murmurs, voice low, rough with restraint.

You nod, but it’s not enough for him.

“Need you to say it, baby.”

“Yes,” you whisper, voice barely audible, but it’s all he needs.

Chris groans softly, dragging the denim down your legs, the slow feeling of fabric moving against your heated skin making your core wetter. When he finally tosses them aside, his eyes roam over you, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip like he can’t believe you’re real.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his hands sliding up your thighs, spreading them slightly as he presses a kiss to the inside of your knee, then higher, higher.

Your fingers dig into the sheets, breath coming in uneven pants as he moves closer, his mouth leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

“Baby,” you breathe, and he hums in response, lips brushing against the last piece of fabric between you.

You lift your hips instinctively, silently begging, and he chuckles, shaking his head. “So impatient,” he teases, but his voice is thick, strained and you can tell he’s just as desperate as you.

He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your bikini bottoms, dragging them down with the same agonizing slowness, his lips following the path they leave behind. When they’re finally gone, when there’s nothing left between you, he just looks at you, his hands gripping your thighs, holding you open for him.

“I’ll never get tired of this,” he murmurs, completely wrecked and full of nothing but love.

A gasp rips from your throat as his mouth moves against you, soft and slow and perfect.

His tongue slides up and down your folds, separating them and pushing his face even deeper into you if possible.

His hands tighten on your hips, keeping you still as his tongue finds flicks against the most sensitive part of you, drawing a moan from your lips that makes him groan in response.

He loves this. Loves the way you tremble beneath him, the way you say his name like it’s the only thing you know.

“Chris- fuck.” Your fingers find his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against you, the vibration sending sparks down your spine.

He takes his time, savoring every reaction, every shaky breath, every whisper of his name. It’s slow and unhurried, like he wants to memorize you, like he needs to.

His tongue moves in slow, deliberate strokes at first, teasing, tasting, savoring every inch of you. He groans into you, the vibrations shooting straight through your core, and the sound alone is almost enough to make you fall apart.

But you don’t want it to end yet. And neither does he.

His nose presses against your clit at such a delicious angle as his tongue moves in and out of you, setting a ruthless pace- the pace he knows you need, the one that drives you crazy, the one that has your thighs shaking against his shoulders.

Chris moans against you, gripping your hips harder, pulling you closer, deeper, like he can’t get enough. Like he needs you more than air.

And God, he’s so deep, his face buried between your thighs, the heat of his mouth sending sparks all through your body. You’re gasping, your fingers tugging at his hair, but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t let up.

You whimper, arching against his tongue, and the cocky bastard grins against you before diving back in, licking into you like it’s his last meal.

“Chris,” you gasp, voice wrecked, breathless.

His grip on you tightens, keeping you exactly where he wants you. “Mmm?” he hums, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through your body.

You whimper again, unable to form words, unable to do anything but take what he’s giving you.

Chris pulls back just enough to look up at you, lips glistening, pupils blown. He smirks, dragging two fingers through your slick folds before slipping them inside, curling them just right, making you cry out.

“There we go,” he murmurs, watching your face twist in pleasure. “That’s what I wanna hear.”

You can barely breathe, barely think, as he starts moving his fingers in slow, deliberate strokes, his mouth returning to your clit, wrapping around it and sucking softly before licking over again and again.

Your hands fly to his hair, tugging hard, and he moans into you.

“Baby,” you whisper, barely able to get the words out.

Chris just grins against you, his tongue flicking faster, his fingers thrusting deeper.

And fuck, you’re so close but he knows your body too well. Knows exactly when to stop, exactly when to pull back, leaving you on the edge, aching for more.

You whine in protest, hips bucking up to chase his mouth, but Chris just smirks, pressing a teasing kiss to your inner thigh.

“Not yet, ma,” he murmurs, voice dark, wrecked. “I wanna take my time with you.”

Moments later he dives right back in. His tongue is everywhere, working in you with slow, teasing flicks one second and deep, dragging strokes the next. His fingers pump into you at a perfect pace, curling just right, pressing into that spongy spot that has you moaning his name like a prayer.

He loves it when you moan his name. Loves the way your body responds to him, the way your thighs twitch around his head, the way you can’t stop moving and arching into his touch, chasing his mouth, desperate for more.

Your fingers are buried in his hair, tugging, pulling, and he groans against you, pushing you further into the mattress at the same time without even thinking about it.

The vibrations shoot through your core, send a spark of electricity down your spine, and suddenly, you’re right there. Right on the edge, breath coming in broken gasps, body trembling.

Chris feels it, knows it, and he doubles down, fingers fucking into you harder, his tongue relentless, determined to push you over that final edge.

“That’s it, mama,” he murmurs, words muffled against your soaked skin. “Give it to me. Wanna hear you.”

His voice is practically a moan that’s full of pure need, and that’s what does it. His voice, his mouth, his hands- everything.

Your body seizes up, a sharp gasp ripping from your throat as the orgasm crashes over you, hard. Pleasure pulses through you in waves, your back arching off the bed, your thighs tightening around his head, but Chris doesn’t stop.

He groans as he licks you through it, his hands gripping your shaking thighs, his tongue still working you over, dragging every last bit of pleasure from your body until you’re whimpering, too sensitive, too overstimulated to take any more.

You tug at his hair, trying to pull him away, but he presses one last kiss against your soaked skin before finally, finally lifting his head.

Chris looks like he just fell from heaven. His lips are swollen, glistening, his pupils blown wide, his breath coming in ragged pants.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning as he moves up your body, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses against your stomach, your ribs, your collarbone.

When he reaches your lips, he kisses you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

You sigh against his mouth, fingers still tangled in his hair, your body boneless beneath him.

Chris chuckles, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Goddamn, baby,” he murmurs, voice thick with awe. “You’re so fucking hot when you come on my mouth.”

You let out a breathless laugh, still trying to catch your breath, and Chris just kisses you again.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his thumb brushing lazy circles against your hip.

You were still feeling the after effects of your orgasm, chest rising and falling rapidly, skin burning from his touch, his mouth, him. But as the haze of pleasure started to clear, you noticed something else, something that made heat flood your stomach all over again.

Chris was rubbing himself against the mattress.

It was subtle, but once you saw it, you couldn’t not see it. The way his hips pressed into the bed, slow and desperate, his breathing just a little too uneven, his grip on you just a little too tight. His jaw was clenched, brows furrowed, his body tense like he was trying to hold himself back.

“Chris,” you whisper, realization hitting you all at once.

Chris huffs out a breathless laugh, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, like maybe he could hide from how completely fucking gone he is for you.

“Shut up,” he mutters, voice strained, like he’s embarrassed, like he can’t help it.

You feel another rush of heat pool between your legs, because fuck, he looks so good like this. Flushed and desperate, still clothed while you’re bare beneath him, his self-control hanging by a thread.

“You get off on eating me out?” you tease, running your nails lightly down his back, feeling the way he shudders at the touch.

Chris groans, exhaling sharply through his nose. “Ma-”

Your fingers dip lower, tracing the waistband of his swim trunks, and his whole body jerks, his hips pressing down harder into the bed.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes, squeezing his eyes shut, but it does nothing to hide the way he ruts into the mattress again, like he needs it.

You grin, pressing a slow kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You’re so hot when you’re needy.”

Chris groans, his hands gripping your hips harder, like he’s trying to keep himself from losing it. “I’m about two seconds away from ruining these fucking shorts,” he admits, voice whinny.

You shiver at his words, your own arousal sparking all over again. “Then take them off.”

Chris swears under his breath, kissing you hard, all tongue and teeth and desperation.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, forehead pressed against yours as his fingers fumble with the waistband of his trunks. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You giggle breathlessly, helping him push them down, and the second he’s free, you feel just how much he had been holding back, how worked up he is.

And God, you want him so bad.

Chris presses his lips to your jaw, your neck, everywhere, his body hovering over yours, his hand wrapping around himself as he exhales a shuddering breath.

Then, he looks down at you, pupils blown, expression full of nothing but pure, unfiltered hunger as you wrap a hand around his girthy length.

Chris groans, deep and guttural, his forehead pressing against yours as your words sink into his skin like fire. His fingers twitch against your waist, gripping just a little harder, like he’s trying to ground himself.

“Fuck,” he breathes, voice wrecked, desperate. “Don’t do that. I’ll finish way too fast.”

You simply laugh but oblige, taking your hand off him. “You always say that but then last all goddamn night.”

He simply smiles down at you. And then he’s kissing you, messy and deep, his body pressing into yours, his hands roaming everywhere and gripping your thighs, your hips, your ribs, like he can’t get enough.

You whimper against his lips, still sensitive, still pulsing from the high he just pulled from your body, but it’s not enough. Not even close.

Chris must feel the way you shift beneath him, the way your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, because he grins against your mouth, his hips pressing down just enough to make you gasp.

“You want more, baby?” he teases, voice rough, laced with something dark and needy.

You nod, breathless, fingers digging into his shoulders.

Chris chuckles, low and knowing, his lips trailing down your jaw, sucking a bruise into the sensitive skin just below your ear.

“You’re so greedy,” he murmurs, nipping at your throat, making you shiver. “So fucking sweet.”

His hands skim down your body, fingertips dancing over your waist before settling on your hips. His touch is warm, steady, as he spreads your legs further, settling between them like he belongs there. He knows he does.

Your heart is pounding, anticipation burning through your veins as he shifts, pressing his length against you, dragging his tip through your slick folds, teasing you, making you ache.

You whimper, tilting your hips up, desperate for more, and Chris moans, the sound vibrating against your skin.

“God, baby,” he rasps, rolling his hips just right, making your head tip back against the pillows. “You’re so fucking wet for me.”

You whine, fingers clutching at his back, nails digging in just enough to make him shudder.

“Chris,” you breathe, voice wrecked, full of want.

He exhales sharply, his forehead pressing against yours again, his hips rolling into yours at a slow, torturous pace.

“I got you, mama,” he murmurs, voice softer now, full of something deeper, something more.

And then he pushes inside you, slow and steady, stretching you perfectly, filling you inch by inch, until he’s buried deep, his chest heaving, his body trembling against yours.

Your breath catches, pleasure coiling through you at the sheer feeling of him.

Chris groans, his hands gripping your hips tight, his head dropping to the crook of your neck.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters, voice muffled against your skin. “You feel so good. So tight.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer, pressing your lips to his temple.

“Move,” you whisper, your voice barely a breath.

Chris lifts his head, his eyes locking onto yours. And then he rocks into you. Slow, deep, intentional.

His lips find yours again, swallowing your moans, his hands sliding under your thighs, pulling you closer, pushing in deeper, making you feel everything.

You sigh into his mouth, body melting into his, completely lost in him, in this, in everything you are together.

Chris groans, resting his forehead against yours, his breath ragged, his movements slow and torturous.

“God, I love you,” he murmurs, hips rolling faster, voice thick with emotion, with need. “So fucking much.”

You gasp, clinging to him, eyes fluttering shut, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all.

“I love you too,” you whisper, your voice shaking.

Chris moans at that, his pace picking up just slightly, just enough to make your toes curl, just enough to make you feel the depth of his love, his devotion, his everything.

The world outside ceases to exist but Chris doesn’t stop.

Not after you moan his name like it’s the only word you know. Not after your nails rake down his back, leaving behind marks that will be there for days. Not after he kisses you, slow and deep, like he wants to drown in you.

Not after he pulls another orgasm from you, his name spilling from your lips in a broken, desperate cry as your body clenches around him in a way that was almost painful.

If anything, it only makes him hungrier.

His lips never leave yours, even as he rides you through it, even as he groans into your mouth, hips stuttering, body trembling. But he doesn’t stop. He won’t stop.

He won’t stop until he’s given you everything.

Until the summer heat isn’t the only thing making you sweat. Until the only thing you can think about is him. The way he fills you, the way he ruins you, the way he worships you like you’re the only thing he’s ever believed in.

Chris exhales a ragged breath against your lips, slowing his thrusts just enough to make you shiver. His forehead presses against yours, his body heavy against you, but not in a way that suffocates. In a way that makes you feel safe. In a way that makes you feel like his.

“You okay, baby?” he murmurs, voice rough, wrecked.

You nod, but it’s not enough for him.

Chris pulls back slightly, searching your face, brushing a stray strand of hair from your damp forehead. “Talk to me,” he whispers.

You swallow hard, your fingers tracing down his spine, reveling in the way he shudders beneath your touch. “I want more.”

Chris groans, low and needy, like your words just broke him completely. “Fuck,” he breathes, his grip tightening on your hips. Then he flips you over.

You gasp, a surprised giggle slipping from your lips before Chris cuts it off with a kiss, pressing you into the mattress, his body covering yours. His hand slides up your spine, trailing goosebumps in its wake, before tangling in your hair, tilting your head to the side as his lips move to your neck.

“You sure you can handle another round?” he teases, dragging his teeth along your pulse point, making you whimper.

“Yes please,” you breathe.

Chris chuckles darkly against your skin, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the base of your neck before rolling his hips forward, sliding back inside you with ease.

You both moan at the feeling, the delicious stretch, the way your bodies mold together perfectly.

Chris grips your waist, holding you steady as he starts moving again, slow but deep, drawing out every sound he can.

“You feel so good, baby,” he mutters, voice husky, full of reverence. “So fucking tight and wet.”

Your head falls forward, pleasure sparking through every inch of you, your thighs trembling as Chris pounds into you, his name slipping from your lips like a mantra.

His pace picks up, hips snapping against yours, the headboard knocking softly against the wall with each thrust, the room filled with nothing but the sounds of your moans and his ragged breaths despite the fact his entire family lay sleeping behind the walls.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, pulling you up so your back is flush against his chest, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “You were made for me.”

You whimper, overwhelmed, overstimulated, but you don’t want him to stop. You never want him to stop.

Chris’s hand drifts lower, fingers slipping between your legs, rubbing tight circles against your clit, his other arm wrapping around your waist, holding you in place as he ruins you.

“One more, baby,” he murmurs, voice dripping with want. “Give me one more.”

And you do. Your body tightens around him, your head falling back onto his shoulder as another orgasm crashes through you, sending sparks down your spine, making you tremble in his arms.

Chris groans, his grip tightening as he follows, spilling into you with a deep, shuddering moan, his body stiffening, then relaxing against you.

Silence settles between you for a moment, the only sound being the heavy rise and fall of your breaths.

Then Chris laughs, his lips pressing against the side of your neck, arms still wrapped around you.

“You’re actually gonna kill me,” he mumbles, voice hoarse, spent.

You smile, turning your head slightly to catch his lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

“Guess I’ll have to bring you back to life,” you whisper against his mouth and within seconds he has you flipped on your back and has slipped inside you, cock already hard again.

His skin warm and slick with sweat. His breath is heavy against your cheek, his lips barely ghosting over your jaw as he tries to steady himself, tries to regain control.

But there’s no control here.

Not when you’re beneath him, body still trembling from the pleasure he just wrung out of you, looking at him with those wide, needy eyes, lips swollen, chest rising and falling like you need him just as badly as he needs you.

Chris groans, dropping his head into the crook of your neck, kissing your skin lazily, but keeping himself buried inside you because he can’t pull away.

“I can���t stop,” he admits, voice low, desperate. His hands grip your thighs, spreading them wider, tilting your hips up just enough to make you whimper. “I don’t want to stop.”

You tilt his chin up, forcing him to meet your gaze, your fingers tangling in his messy, sweat-damp hair.

“Then don’t,” you whisper, lips brushing against his.

And fuck, that’s all it takes.

Chris kisses you hard, stealing the breath from your lungs as he starts moving again. He sets a deep, steady rhythm, pushing into you, filling you completely, making you feel every inch of him.

Your back arches, hands clutching at his shoulders, nails raking down his back, and Chris groans, rutting into you harder, deeper.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he mutters against your lips, hands gripping your thighs, keeping them spread as he rocks into you, slow and deep, like he needs you to feel this, to know how much he wants you.

Your head tips back against the pillow, a whimper slipping from your lips, and Chris takes the opportunity to drag his tongue down your neck, sucking and kissing, leaving marks he knows you’ll complain about tomorrow.

His hands slide up your body, cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over your sensitive peaks, making you gasp, your legs tightening around his waist.

Chris grins, pressing another kiss to your lips. “You’re so fucking sensitive, ma,” he teases, voice wrecked. “Still not over the first one, huh?”

You shake, legs trembling, body overstimulated but still aching for more.

“Chris,” you breathe, tugging him closer.

He groans, pressing his forehead to yours, moving his hips in slow, deep thrusts, dragging out every ounce of pleasure.

“Say it,” he mutters, voice dark, demanding. His hand slips between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing slow circles. “Tell me what you want.”

Your breath hitches, your nails digging into his arms as he keeps going, his pace slow but ruinous, building you up again, bringing you to that edge.

“More,” you gasp.

Chris smirks, but there’s nothing cocky about it this time. It’s adoration, it’s pure fucking need.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, his lips brushing yours. “Then take it, baby.”

Chris snaps his hips forward, thrusting into you harder, his fingers pressing against your clit, pushing you higher, closer, and you can feel it. You can practically taste the pleasure you were so fucking close.

“Cum for me, ma,” Chris whispers, his voice wrecked, full of love, full of you.

You cum hard, your body clenching around him, your back arching off the bed, your head falling back as you cry out, his name tumbling from your lips for what felt like the billionth time today.

Chris groans, his pace faltering, his grip on your body tightening as he watches you fall apart beneath him, as he feels you squeeze around him, pulling him deeper, dragging him with you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck- mama” he mutters, his movements growing sloppy, desperate. He thrusts into you one last time, burying himself deep before he shatters, his body trembling, his breath coming in ragged pants as he spills inside you again, pressing his forehead to yours, his lips brushing your cheek.

You both stay like that for a moment, tangled together, skin slick, hearts pounding, chests heaving.

Then, Chris chuckles breathlessly, pressing a slow, lazy kiss to your lips and pulling out.

“Round three?” he teases, smirking against your mouth.

You roll your eyes, laughing softly, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

Chris doesn’t hesitate.

The second the words leave your mouth, he kisses you. Deep, slow, filthy. Like he’s already planning on making good on his round three comment. His hands slide up your sides, warm and steady, fingers brushing over your ribs before cupping your face, holding you there like you’re his entire world.

And you knew you were.

Your body still burns from everything he’s already done to you, but you want more. You need more. You can feel him pressed against you, still hard, still ready, and it sends another pulse of heat straight to your core.

Chris groans as your nails scrape down his back, his hips shifting against yours, already chasing that friction. His breath is ragged when he pulls back just slightly, his forehead pressed to yours, his pupils blown even wider, his lips swollen and wet from kissing you.

“You’re such a dirty girl,” he mutters, voice wrecked, his hands gripping your thighs, pulling you closer, pressing his length against your slick heat that’s covered in two rounds of both yours and his cum.

You grin, breathless. “And you love it.”

Chris lets out a dark chuckle, pressing a lazy kiss to your jaw, down your neck, sucking another mark into your skin just because he can.

“Damn right, I do,” he murmurs, shifting above you, lining himself up, dragging the tip of his cock through your cum covered folds, making you whimper.

Your body shakes, overstimulated but aching for him again, and Chris feels it. He feels how sensitive you are, how badly you need him.

“I love fucking my cum back into you,” he groans, his voice full of something dark, something possessive. “God, and you’re still so tight.”

You whimper, tilting your hips up, and Chris chuckles, pressing a teasing kiss to your lips.

“Still so desperate, too” he murmurs. You roll your eyes, tugging him down, biting at his bottom lip, making him groan.

“Just fuck me already.”

Chris laughs, but it’s rough, strained, like he’s barely holding himself together.

“Whatever my girl wants,” he mutters but sinks into you nonetheless. It was slow and deep, stretching you all over again, making your eyes roll back and having your nails dig into his shoulders as he fills you completely.

Chris groans, his head dropping to your shoulder, his arms tightening around you.

“Fucking hell,” he breathes. “I’ll never get tired of that feeling.”

You whimper, still sensitive, still ruined from him, but you don’t want him to stop. You never want him to stop.

Chris lifts his head, tilting your chin up, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“Look at me, ma,” he murmurs. “I wanna see your pretty face.”

And fuck, the way he watches you as he starts moving, the way his eyes burn into yours as his hips roll in deep, deliberate thrusts- it’s enough to destroy you.

He drags it out, keeping his pace slow, making sure you feel everything, making sure you need him as much as he needs you.

“Chris,” you gasp, legs tightening around his waist, your hands tangling in his hair, tugging him closer, and he moans, his hips stuttering just slightly.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he mutters, his lips pressing against your temple, your cheek, your jaw. “So beautiful. So fucking mine.”

You shiver, the possessiveness in his voice making another wave of heat crash over you, making your stomach tighten with pleasure.

Chris feels it, knows it, and he speeds up just slightly, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath hot against your lips.

“Gonna cum for me again, baby?” he murmurs, his fingers slipping between your bodies, finding your clit, rubbing slow, tight circles. “Gonna let me feel you?”

You nod frantically, barely able to speak, barely able to breathe, the pleasure building so fast.

“Say it,” Chris demands, voice dark, hungry. “Tell me who’s making you feel this good.”

“You,” you gasp, barely able to get the words out. “You, Chris- fuck, I-”

You shatter before you could even finish your sentence. It’s intense, your entire body shaking, pleasure ripping through you harder than it ever has, your hands clinging to him, your mouth falling open in a silent scream.

Chris groans as you tighten around him with such power, his movements growing sloppy and desperate. And then he’s there too, his hips stuttering, his body tensing before he lets go, burying himself deep, moaning your name way too loudly as he spills inside you.

Chris collapses beside you, breath still ragged, body still warm and sticky from everything you just did. His arm immediately wraps around your waist, pulling you into him, like he physically can’t be apart from you yet. His nose nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his lips pressing a lazy, open-mouthed kiss to your damp skin.

For a long moment, neither of you speak, just basking in the quiet, in the aftermath, in the absolute mess you’ve made of each other.

Then Chris shifts slightly, adjusting his body when he suddenly feels it.

His lips twitch, his fingers gripping your thigh as he slowly drags them up, grazing over the sticky mess between your legs.

“Baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick with amusement.

You hum sleepily against his chest, barely registering the shift in his tone. “Hmm?”

Chris grins, tilting his head slightly to glance down at you, his fingertips brushing against the inside of your thigh again, feeling the both of your cum still leaking out of you.

“You’re dripping,” he murmurs, his tone smug as hell, his fingers teasing as he lightly traces over the mess he left inside you.

Your eyes snap open, a gasp catching in your throat as you immediately squeeze your legs together, heat flooding your cheeks.

“Chris!” you shove at his chest, your voice shrill with embarrassment, but he’s grinning now, the tiredness in his eyes replaced with something cocky, something full of pure male satisfaction.

“Shit,” he mutters, dragging his fingers up your thigh again, spreading the wetness slightly just to watch you squirm. “That’s so fucking hot.”

Your face burns, and you slap at his arm, kicking at the sheets. “Chris, get something to clean it before I kill you!”

Chris just laughs, looking absolutely pleased with himself, shaking his head as he presses a slow, teasing kiss to your forehead.

“Relax, mama,” he murmurs, but he’s already moving, slipping out of bed, stretching his arms above his head before sauntering off to the bathroom completely naked, because of course he is.

You bury your face in your hands, groaning as you hear him rummaging through the cabinets. “I hate you so much.”

Chris’s laugh echoes from the bathroom. “You love me.”

You roll your eyes, still burning with embarrassment, but when he returns with a warm washcloth, his expression softens. He kneels on the bed beside you, gently running the cloth over your thighs, taking his time, making sure he’s thorough.

His fingers brush over your skin, slow and warm, and suddenly, you’re not embarrassed anymore. Suddenly, it’s just Chris. Your golden boy, your love, the boy who takes care of you even when he’s teasing the hell out of you.

When he’s done, he tosses the washcloth into the laundry bin, slipping back into bed, pulling you against his chest once more.

“Better?” he murmurs, pressing a lazy kiss to your hair.

You sigh, melting into his warmth. “Better.”

Chris chuckles. “Good. ‘Cause I’m still gonna remind you of this in the morning.”

Before you could reply, Chris inhales a panicked breath and mutters, “Shit, I’m gonna need to buy you like seven Plan B’s tomorrow.”

You snort, laughter bubbling past your lips as you roll onto your side, draping an arm over his chest. “Seven? You planning on going another few rounds in your sleep?”

Chris grins, brushing his fingers up and down your spine. “I mean, if you’re up for it…”

You swat at his chest, making him chuckle, but then your grin turns wicked, teasing. “Your mom is definitely gonna be disappointed that we didn’t use the condoms she bought for you.”

Chris groans, covering his face with his hands. “Jesus Christ, don’t remind me.”

You giggle, propping yourself up on one elbow. “She literally walked in on us once, Chris. She knows you’re not a virgin.”

Chris peeks at you from between his fingers, giving you a deadpan look. “Yeah, and I still can’t look her in the eye.”

You smirk, resting your chin on his chest. “I think she was just trying to be supportive. Making sure her son’s being safe and all.”

Chris grumbles, shaking his head. “She left them on my bed, Y/N. With no note. Just a silent here, please stop traumatizing me moment.”

You burst into laughter, curling into his side as he groans dramatically. “Aw, baby, your mom just wants what’s best for you.”

Chris scoffs. “She probably heard all that too and is currently regretting every decision she’s ever made.”

You giggle, pressing a kiss to his collarbone before whispering, “I think she’s just proud her son has stamina.”

Chris lets out a strangled noise before flipping you onto your back, pinning you beneath him, tickling your sides until you’re screeching with laughter.

“Oh, you’re funny, huh?” he teases, grinning down at you as you squirm beneath him. “You think you’re so fucking hilarious.”

“Chris- stop!” you wheeze between laughs, kicking your legs as he keeps going.

Eventually, he relents, rolling off of you with a satisfied smirk. You’re still giggling, breathless, and Chris watches you with this soft look, like he’s completely and utterly gone for you. And you know he is.

Then he sighs, stretching his arms above his head. “Alright, c’mere, baby,” he murmurs, sitting up and reaching for the hem of the t-shirt he tossed onto the floor earlier. “Let’s get you fully cleaned up.”

You hum in contentment as he helps you sit up, grabbing another rag from his nightstand and running it gently between your thighs, collecting more of your release that spilled out. The whole time, his eyes stay locked on yours, full of something deep, something warm.

When he’s done, he grabs one of his t-shirts from his drawer that was soft, oversized, and smelling exactly like him and slips it over your head, his fingers brushing over your skin as he helps you adjust it.

“There,” he murmurs, voice low, fond. “My girl in my shirt. Fucking perfect.”

You smile, curling into his chest as he tugs the covers over both of you. His arms wrap around you tightly, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles against your back.

You sigh, completely melted into him, your body still humming with the remnants of everything he’s given you tonight. His skin is warm beneath your cheek, his heartbeat steady, grounding.

Chris presses a slow, lingering kiss to your hair, his fingers continuing their soft path over your spine, tracing lazy, absentminded patterns like he never wants to stop touching you.

“You okay, baby?” he murmurs against your forehead, his voice thick with exhaustion but still full of that quiet, unwavering care.

You nod, nuzzling closer, your legs tangling with his beneath the sheets. “Mhm. Perfect.”

Chris exhales softly, tucking you even closer somehow, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he loosens his grip.

“Good,” he whispers, his lips brushing over your temple. “Gotta take care of my girl.”

Your chest tightens, warmth blooming inside you at how soft he is now, how different this moment is from the desperate, hungry way he had fucked you just minutes ago.

This is what you love about Chris.

That he’s wild and reckless and cocky, but then he’s this, too. He’s gentle, protective, utterly devoted in a way that makes you feel so unbelievably safe.

Your fingers rub absentmindedly against his chest, your eyes growing heavy, exhaustion slowly pulling you under.

Chris hums, his breath slowing, his hold on you never faltering.

“Sleep, baby,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your forehead again, soft and lingering. “I got you.”

And with that, wrapped up in his warmth, in his love, in him, you finally let sleep take you, safe in the arms of the boy who always has you and always will have you.

MASTERLIST

[angelltheninth]

What do you think Sokka, Zuko, Korra, Asami, Bolin and Mako would do as aftercare for their S/O?

Oh! I've written aftercare for Korrasami fics before but never for the other characters.

Pairing: Sokka, Zuko, Korra, Asami Sato, Bolin, Mako x Reader

Tags: fluff, suggestive, kissing, naked cuddles, praise, scratches, teasing, lipstick marks, eating together

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: Yes, the things I wrote in my Korassami fics are transferred in here. I've had these headcanons since I started writing Korrasami fics, I can't let go of them.

SOKKA

Is all about that pillow talk. There might be a humble brag thrown in somewhere in there, but generally speaking he wants to make sure you're okay. He's really tuned into how you talk to him after, he's clinging onto every word you as as hard as he's clinging onto you. Starts to sound a bit sleepy as he rambles on, eventually drifting off to sleep next to you.

ZUKO

Doesn't want to make it sound like he's fishing for compliments and praise but he is. Constantly in fact, during the act and especially after. He likes to know he did good, he might have seen it, felt it, but he wants you to let him know even more. His hand is holding yours while he pulls you next to him and he kisses your forehead, affirming to you that he had a good time too.

KORRA

Would really like to cuddle but not before she fetches food and water for you both. It's really important that you both keep your energies up. You never know if you might want a round 2, or 3, or 4. So it's always good to eat and drink afterwards. She will bite and lick your fingers if you try to feed her anything and if you try to steal her food you'll find yourself pinned against the bed.

ASAMI

Smirks at you as she counts the many lipstick marks she left on your body. Her finger tickling you, making you shiver under her touch and she likes it, she likes how easy it is to tease you, wind you up. Maybe she's doing it purposely, maybe she's just helping you calm down and likes the physical contact. Either way she'll leave at least one mark for you to see when you walk up to the mirror.

BOLIN

Pulls you on top of him and snuggles his face against your neck. Don't tell him about the sweat or any other fluids, he doesn't mind one bit, he wants to cuddle with you now. He always makes you feel safe and appreciated, even if he does get rougher if you ask him for some roleplay, he is an actor after all. But he is also mindful not to hold you too hard, he doesn't want to hurt you.

MAKO

Never admits how much he likes the scratch marks you leave on his back, arms and thighs but you always catch him looking at them in the mirror afterwards. As soon as he notices you're fully awake again he rushes to kiss you deeply, his tongue seeking yours. Usually he's pretty stoic but in bed he's always passionate. He wants to return all the affection you show to him on the regular basis.

[johnbrand]

Runner's Gas

“Well if it isn’t our little Spark!” Brick playfully taunted, twisting around the black cap on his head. “Looking to catch up to the big leagues?”

Aaron rolled his eyes, continuing to stretch out his toned, limber legs. “What, are you afraid I’m going to catch up to your varsity team?”

Brick smirked. “You wouldn’t dare.” As captain, and the fastest runner on the team, the college senior was proud of his position on top.

“Maybe I would,” Aaron’s smile held that youthful glow all overachievers had. Although he was only a sophomore, he had been sweeping competitions left and right. No one was able to beat him and his “spark of energy” that was always reserved for the last second, hence his nickname.

“What do you say we put it to the test?” Brick prompted, his lithe frame already warmed up after a few quick laps. Besides being a bit taller than Aaron, their runner’s builds were almost identical. 

“If you’re willing to lose,” Aaron cockily replied, enjoying the friendly competition. He could feel the build of adrenaline slowly pumping throughout his veins. A brisk wind was lightly pushing against them, tickling their bare skin. “Mind if I lunge once or twice?”

“Not at all,” Brick remarked, taking his place a few steps behind. “Gives me a chance to take in your backside, seeing as I won't have the pleasure of viewing it again.”

Aaron followed through with his final stretches, feeling his slim muscles flex and retract appropriately. He was excited for this challenge, pleasantly daunted to be taking on his school’s top champ. Their times had been fairly similar, but being in different leagues had meant the two had never been able to compete.

Getting lost in his own head, Aaron did not realize his bowels were rapidly processing information. His body was inappropriately following through with hereditary protocols, having accidentally registered Brick as a threat. Finishing his final lunge, Aaron registered the dreadful rippling in his stomach. But at that point, there was no stopping what was coming next. Aaron’s excitement immediately twisted into fear.

“Watch out!”

PPPPHHHRRTTTT!

Brick had no time to prepare as a massive fart cloud was carried downwind directly into his face. The flatulence bombarded him, its odorous vapors blinding him temporarily and knocking him onto his flat bottom. Aaron immediately rushed in, desperately searching for a way to reverse what had been done. Luckily no one had seen the incident, as the chemical reaction that was about to ensue was–as far as Aaron knew–unreversable.

Brick was sitting back comfortably, dazed and desensitized by the prey’s natural defense. Aaron had accidentally attacked the college senior with runner’s gas. An evolutionary condition, runner’s gas was a fumigation technique used by “weaker” species to protect themselves against predators. The flatulence released altered the predator’s abilities, rendering them bulkier, slower, and dumber, allowing the prey to flee. It was a genetic trait that should have eroded away with evolution, particularly as humans grew more alike. But some were still left with the condition, making its activation incredibly rare and almost always unintentional.

Aaron watched helplessly as Brick’s skin began to ripple. The track star’s body expanded in size, growing taller, longer, and larger. Muscle exploded across his frame, destroying the slim physique by covering it in layer after layer of pure-grade beef. Rounded arms led into broader shoulders, pillowy pecs led straight down to a thicker pack of eight abdominals. Thighs bulked into true haunches, feet so large that their width would prevent them from travelling quickly without the risk of tripping.

As Brick’s buttocks and pouch inflated, Aaron’s eyes trailed up along his victim's body, following the swarm of hair that swiftly painted itself along the surface of skin. He could do nothing as Brick’s jaw cracked into a square shape, as his forehead pushed itself a bit farther out, or as the twinkle of intelligence was dimmed in his eyes. As quick as it had come, the chemical reaction rapidly subsided, leaving behind a new dumb jock in its wake.

“Hey…” Aaron cautiously poked, the college senior now twice his size. He knew they would have to move before anyone saw them. There was one person in particular that he feared.  “Come on, we need to get you out of here before-”

“McNeal!” 

The coach’s gruff shout sent a shiver under Aaron’s skin. He was too late.

“What is this, your fifth one?” The coach was shaking his head as he approached. “It’s one thing to be gassing the competition, but your own team?” 

“It…it was an accident,” Aaron stared at his own feet, embarrassed.

The coach huffed, “Who was it this time?” The affected party was still sitting on the ground, brainwashed and stretching his new muscles slowly. “McNeal…is this my captain?!”

Aaron said nothing. They both watched as the dumb jock began to take in his surroundings.

“Brock,” the coach provided the former captain with a new name. “What are you doing on the track? Football practice takes place on the other side of the complex.

Brock took a moment to process this. “Oh right...." his chuckle was lifeless. “Huhuhuh…I can be so stupid sometimes.” Aaron and the coach simply observed as Brock accepted this new reality.

“Luckily for you,” the coach sighed. “We needed a few more boys on the football team.”

[bubblebabie]

⋅˚₊ ୨୧ Mornings With Rafe Cameron!

On the alarm clock, the time luminously flashed as it read 9:02 A.M. You turned over from your side of the bed, arms and legs stretching out to reach for Rafe only to not find him there.

Promptly, a soft gust of wind rushed through the open doors of the balcony.

Rising from the bed, you got to your feet and walked towards the doors to see Rafe sitting with on the couch with his legs spread and hands behind his head, his laptop open infront of him on the small round table.

"Morning Baby," Rafe said with a grin when he noticed you.

"Good Morning," you replied with a shy smile as you took a few steps to him.

Both of you returning to the comfortable silence.

In a slow motion, Rafe pulled you onto his lap and sat you with a knee on each side of his legs, as you held him close with your arms around his neck, carefully examining the features on his face.

Rafe sat with his back against the couch, legs closed and arms wrapped comfortably around your waist, his hands resting on the lower frame of your back as he caressed the soft skin.

An intimate moment of peace and love.

Rafe stared at you lovingly, inspecting every inch of you, internally wondering if you were thinking the same thing that he was; and you were. For all you knew you were utterly in love with Rafe, as he was wholeheartedly in love with you.

An intimate moment shared between two hearts that beat for each other.

[loveesiren]

𝖤𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗒 𝖢𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗍 (𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖳𝗐𝗈)

Rafe Cameron x Reader | Part One

a/n: Here's part two! Thank you for all the love on this mini series. I'll be posting part three on Monday!

synopsis: Y/N has always been close to the Cameron family, practically a part of it after years of friendship. Beneath the surface, unspoken feelings simmer between her and Rafe, but neither of them can muster the courage to admit it. When Y/N finally decides to move on, setting her sights on a new man, he’s forced to confront the truth: losing her might cost him more than he ever realized.

warnings: language, slight angst

wc: 2.4k+

Your date with JJ was going surprisingly well. Dinner at the club had been set up by Sarah—she knew JJ wouldn’t exactly be the “wine and dine” type on his own but figured he’d appreciate the effort. To his credit, he carried the conversation effortlessly, keeping you laughing and genuinely interested.

“Sarah was nice to set this up,” JJ said, his trademark grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah, dinner was great!” you replied, your bubbly tone matching the sparkle in your eyes.

JJ leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “What do you say we finish the night a little more Pogue style?” he asked, his smirk dripping with mischief.

“Oh?” You raised an eyebrow, curious. “And what does that entail?”

“A kegger at the Boneyard,” he said, his blue eyes twinkling. “We’ll take my bike. Trust me, it’ll be fun.”

You couldn’t help but smile. The club was elegant, sure, but it felt lifeless—hardly what you’d call a Saturday night. A bonfire and a few drinks sounded like the perfect way to round out the evening. “Okay, I’m in!”

JJ’s grin widened as he stood, offering you his hand. He led you out of the club and to his bike, pulling the helmet off the handlebars. “Safety first,” he said with a wink, holding it out to you.

Butterflies danced in your stomach as you bit your lip, taking the helmet from him. You slipped it on and climbed onto the bike, your sundress brushing against his jeans as you wrapped your arms snugly around his waist.

“Ready?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Definitely,” you replied, your voice filled with excitement.

JJ revved the engine, and the bike roared to life beneath you. The wind whipped through your hair, and you let out a delighted squeal as the adrenaline rushed through your veins. The sunset painted the world in warm hues of orange and pink as the scenery blurred past. For those few moments, you felt completely free.

The ride ended too soon, and before you knew it, you were pulling up to the Boneyard. JJ helped you off the bike, his hands brushing yours as you removed the helmet and shook out your beachy waves. The soft breeze teased the hem of your dress as you adjusted it, your cheeks flushed from the ride.

Rafe saw you the moment you arrived. He’d heard the rumble of JJ’s bike and had turned just in time to see you hop off, your arms still lingering around JJ’s waist. His heart skipped a beat—first from concern at seeing you on a motorcycle, then from something much darker.

He watched you in silence, his grip tightening around the drink in his hand. You moved effortlessly, like something out of a dream, your smile lighting up the beach as you waved hello to everyone. JJ had an arm draped casually around your shoulders, and the proud, almost smug look on his face made Rafe’s blood boil.

He sipped his drink, trying to ignore the sharp twist in his chest as you ran off to Sarah, no doubt eager to gush about the date. He turned back to the bonfire, pretending not to notice you spotting him from across the flames. But then you waved, your excitement palpable. Rafe mustered a smile and waved back, the motion feeling heavier than it should have.

“Hey, Rafey!” you called, bounding toward him.

“Hey,” he replied, forcing a grin as you wrapped your arms around him in a quick hug. The scent of your perfume lingered in the air, softening him for just a moment.

“How was your date?” he asked, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him.

“It actually went really well!” you beamed, your enthusiasm making his heart sink. “JJ’s really funny,” you added, glancing back at the boy in question. JJ was deep in conversation with Pope and Kiara, gesturing animatedly.

Rafe swallowed hard, his chest tightening as he fought to keep his tone light. “Good. I’m glad,” he said, though the words tasted bitter. Glad? He wasn’t glad. He wasn’t anywhere close to glad. He was furious, jealous, and heartbroken all at once.

You didn’t seem to notice his strained smile, too focused on the drinks table. “I just came to grab some drinks,” you explained, filling two cups with beer from the keg. “But don’t worry—tomorrow, I’m all yours! I’ll bring lunch, and we can finish unpacking your place.”

Rafe forced a smile. “Sounds perfect,” he said, even though the idea of unpacking felt hollow compared to the sight of you glowing after your date.

You flashed him one last dazzling smile before hurrying back to JJ, the two drinks in hand. Rafe’s eyes followed you helplessly as you leaned into JJ, handing him a cup and laughing in a way Rafe had never seen before. It was a carefree, uninhibited laugh—like JJ had unlocked a piece of you that Rafe hadn’t been able to reach.

And then he saw it.

JJ tilted your chin up with his hand, his lips brushing softly against yours in a way that felt both casual and intimate. The sight hit Rafe like a punch to the gut, his chest tightening as a sharp sting pricked his eyes. He blinked hard, willing the tears away.

“You good, dude?” Topper’s voice broke through the haze. He clapped a hand on Rafe’s shoulder, offering him another beer.

Rafe’s gaze didn’t waver from the two of you down the beach. “Yeah,” he muttered, though his voice was hollow.

Topper followed his line of sight and let out a low whistle. “Damn,” he said simply, patting Rafe on the back. “Come on, dude. Let’s get shitfaced.”

Rafe tore his eyes away from you, taking the beer from Topper. He didn’t trust himself to look at you again. Instead, he drained the cup in one long gulp, the alcohol doing little to dull the ache in his chest.

Because for the first time, Rafe Cameron knew exactly what jealousy felt like. And it wasn’t just jealousy—it was fear. Fear that he might have already lost you to someone else. Fear that he’d never be able to tell you just how much you meant to him.

You weren’t just a fleeting crush, or some girl who came and went. You were Y/N. His best friend. His ray of sunshine in an otherwise dark world.

And now, you might never be his.

Despite your pounding headache and a stomach still queasy from the night before, you kept your promise to Rafe. You had fallen asleep peacefully in JJ’s arms on the beach, lulled by the soft crash of waves and the warmth of his embrace. But the morning was far less forgiving. The bright sunrise pierced through your closed eyelids, the wind stung your skin, and the sand clung stubbornly to every surface.

JJ had been sweet, though, giving you a ride back to your car, still parked at the club. He kissed you goodbye, his lips soft but brief, and you couldn’t help but smile as you drove to Rafe’s house.

“Hey!” you greeted, your usual cheerful tone intact, though your face gave away the telltale signs of a hangover.

Rafe opened the door, his expression soft but guarded. “Hey,” he replied with a half-smile, stepping aside to let you in.

The moment you flopped onto his couch, Rafe went into caretaker mode. He handed you a liquid IV packet and a greasy breakfast sandwich, his silent way of nursing you back to life.

“You’re the fucking best,” you said through a mouthful of bacon, smiling as the salty, greasy goodness worked its magic. “Thank you!”

Rafe smiled back, but his eyes told a different story. Beneath the surface, there was something heavy, something unspoken.

“Are you okay?” you asked, narrowing your eyes as you studied his face.

“Yeah,” he said quickly, brushing off your concern. “Just had a bit too much to drink last night, too.” He averted his gaze, avoiding the real reason for his melancholy.

Before you could press him further, a knock at the door interrupted. Sarah burst in, John B trailing behind her.

“Ugh, kill me now!” Sarah groaned dramatically, throwing herself into your arms. “Why did we drink so much?!”

You chuckled, smoothing down her knotted hair. “Because we’re dumbasses,” you teased, and she whined in agreement.

“What are you guys doing here?” Rafe asked, his voice tinged with mild annoyance. “We already moved all the furniture.”

“Needed to get away from the house,” John B said, hands stuffed into his pockets. “Figured we’d help unpack.”

You glanced at Rafe, offering a soft, understanding smile. You had been looking forward to spending the day alone with him. There was something simmering beneath the surface, something he wasn’t saying, and you wanted to help him let it out. But with Sarah and John B here, that wasn’t going to happen.

Rafe’s smile in return was faint and sad. There it was again—the longing in his eyes, the weight of words left unsaid. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but it tugged at your heart.

The day dragged on for Rafe. While he and John B worked in tense silence, he could hear your laughter from the other room as Sarah bombarded you with questions about JJ.

“So, do you like him?” Sarah asked, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“Yeah, the date was great,” you admitted, a soft blush creeping up your cheeks. “I’d love to see him again.”

The words were like shards of glass in Rafe’s ears, cutting deep. His stomach churned with every mention of JJ’s name, and it only got worse as the conversation continued.

“Can you guys talk about anything else?” John B finally said, shooting a pointed look at Sarah.

Sarah rolled her eyes but giggled, turning the conversation toward the TV show you’d been binging together.

Rafe visibly relaxed at the shift in topic, though the tension in his shoulders remained.

“You like her, don’t you?” John B asked quietly, his voice low enough that you and Sarah couldn’t hear.

“Is it that obvious?” Rafe replied, placing books on the shelf in front of him, his movements deliberate and slow.

“Why don’t you just tell her?”

Rafe hesitated, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “She doesn’t feel the same,” he said finally. “We’re just friends.”

“How do you know?”

“Don’t you hear the way she talks about him?” Rafe gestured toward the living room where your laughter rang out like music. “She’s happy. That’s all I want for her.”

John B studied him for a moment, then sighed. “Look, man. JJ’s my best friend, and he’s a great guy. But…”

“But what?” Rafe asked, his voice sharp with urgency.

“But JJ will move on,” John B said, his tone calm and measured. “If it doesn’t work out, he’ll be fine. He’s got options—Kiara’s had a thing for him forever anyway.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened as he absorbed John B’s words. He wanted to believe them, wanted to think there was still a chance for him. But after a long moment, he shook his head.

“It’s not my choice,” Rafe said quietly. “It’s hers. If JJ makes her happy, then that’s what matters. I’d never forgive myself if I ruined it for her.”

John B nodded, his respect for Rafe growing. “That’s big of you,” he said.

Rafe didn’t respond, his focus fixed on a box of photo frames.

He knew what it would mean to keep quiet—to watch from the sidelines as you fell deeper into someone else’s arms. But no matter how much it hurt, he wasn’t going to risk your happiness. If things didn’t work out with JJ, Rafe would be there to pick up the pieces. And if they did, he’d swallow his pain and smile for you—even if it killed him inside.

Because to Rafe, your happiness was worth more than his own.

-

John B and Sarah called it a day around 6 p.m., leaving just you and Rafe on the balcony. The sun was still hanging low in the summer sky, casting everything in a warm, golden light. The air was soft and salty, carrying the gentle crash of waves from the shore below. You and Rafe cracked jokes and laughed, sipping cold beers as the hours melted into one another.

Rafe’s smile seemed effortless, and you relished seeing him that way. What you didn’t notice was the way his gaze lingered on you when you weren’t looking—admiring the way your sun-kissed skin glowed and the way your beachy waves fell perfectly over your shoulders. It felt peaceful, like nothing could disturb the calm of the moment.

Until your phone buzzed.

You glanced at the screen, and a wide smile stretched across your face. Rafe noticed instantly, his heart sinking as he already knew who it was.

“Hey, uh, JJ wants to pick me up,” you said, your tone light. “Is it okay if I leave my car here for now?”

Rafe’s smile faltered, replaced by a frown he couldn’t hide.

“Are you okay?” you asked, your brow furrowing with concern.

“Yeah, it’s cool,” he muttered, his voice clipped and cold as he took another swig of beer.

“Rafe… is something wrong?” you pressed, sensing the shift in his mood.

“Nope,” he said flatly, standing abruptly and heading inside.

You scoffed, setting your beer down as you followed after him. “Something is obviously wrong, Rafe,” you said, your voice firm but confused. “I’ve seen it in your eyes these past few days. Just tell me what’s going on!”

Rafe stopped, his jaw tight as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. “Just go, Y/N. Get out,” he snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut through the air between you.

You froze, stunned. Rafe had never spoken to you like this before. Tears pricked your eyes as you processed his words. For a moment, you wanted to yell back, to demand an explanation, but the lump in your throat made it impossible.

“I’ll get out,” you whispered, grabbing your bag with trembling hands. You texted JJ to meet at his house instead, desperate to get far away from Rafe.

Rafe watched from the window as your car disappeared down the road. The weight of regret settled over him. He clenched his fists, hating himself for lashing out at you. You didn’t deserve that. Not even close.

In an attempt to dull the pain, he grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet and locked himself in his room, determined to drink away the ache in his chest.

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