#with simple things like a soft smile and kind eyes

[zombyjuice]

nights like this —- jj maybank. 🐶🪽🌸☀️

when jj has a crush on a kook but not just any kook.

season one jj i miss you. smut smut smut smut.

i haven’t written in so long wth !

playlist

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“Mom! That's not fair; Kie gets to stay up all night with those boys, but I can’t have a simple sleepover with my friend." You huff, closing the refrigerator door. "Y/N I will figure that out later. That has nothing to do with this; remember you're grounded." You roll your eyes. “Oh my gosh, that’s ridiculous mom, so what? I brought in a stray cat...”

“and dog, bird, oh yeah, and a SPIDER too, you know I’m scared of those,” she frowns and lowers her tone at the end; you stifle a laugh. “Also that piercing.” Your smile fades away quickly. “It’s a nose piercing! Be glad I didn’t get the lip ... yet. Your mom coughs on her water a bit and slaps your head. “Go. Go!” 

“gladly” throwing your hands in the air and rushing to leave the house bumping into no other than kiera “your introublee” you push past her and she huffs getting prepared for her mothers nagging voice.

You and Kie are twins yet almost nothing alike. Kie is the “stronger one.” She’s louder and more outspoken than you, more chaotic, and not as friendly but caring and kind just like you. You’ve always been a calm, peaceful, gentle soul, bubbly and sweet, feeling everything to the core and loving deeply and strongly, quick to stand up for your friend and not yourself, but as you grow, you find your voice more and more. You both have a little bit of each other.

jj had a thing for kie, but it was more like he had a thing for a lot of girls and especially you, well, mostly you. He tried not to since, unlike Kie, you hung out with the Kooks, and to them, it seemed like the kook year Kie experienced, you got stuck in, and, well, we know how JJ feels about the Kooks, but gosh … he couldn’t help it.

He noticed things about you that typically other people would point out as weird, at least to the people of Outer Banks, but JJ would say it’s different, a breath of fresh air even. You had pretty, dyed, curly hair and somewhat fair skin that’s always sun-kissed and the prettiest makeup that made your puppy eyes pop, and he noticed the way each piece of jewelry or how you did your makeup was an expression of you on the inside and matched or complimented you perfectly, almost like everything you wore was meant and made particularly for you; he noticed how everything depicted a phase in your life, whether good or bad, and he noticed you even had a palette: teals, greens, yellows, and what suited you the most, pink. You had different pieces of clothes; he could tell you didn’t shop where the rest of the kooks shopped, and he loved your staple piece, your short shorts, and everything hugged you so well. to say the least, he noticed things he had never noticed in anybody. He became so detail-oriented, and he couldn’t understand why he noticed everything about your beautiful, soft soul. 

“Oh, J, hey, you smile softly, waving at no other than JJ. “Hey, princess, still too cool for us?” He smiles smugly, taking his hat off. “Pft, shut up. What are you doing here?” You eye him while you continue to walk, him following closely behind. “Yeah, you know, I just came to drop off your sister, fulfilling my duties as soon-to-be boyfriend.” You raise your eyebrow at this and stop in your tracks, causing him to bump into you as well. “Damn—” 

“You? and Kiara? I thought she had, like, a thing for John B." You say, questioning his intentions, “Yeah, maybe. I dunno... Why do you care?" He rolls his eyes as if he won an argument you guys aren't even having; you chuckle and continue to walk with him at your side. “I don’t care! I’m just asking a question on the topic; I can’t ask a question? about my sister?” You nudge at his shoulder, and he smirks, staring down at you. “Yeah, whatever, princess.”

“so where are we going?” “i’m going away from you asshole.”

—-

“Hey Dad, hey Mom, where’s Kie?” You sigh, putting everything on the counters and going to give them kisses on the cheek. “In her room getting ready… She’s punished, and she has to bring you to hang out with those pogues.” You cringe. “Wow, what a great punishment! and Pogue's mom, really, what a dumb name. That’s just so dumb it makes me mad." You say quickly, making your mom chuckle, “Yeah, yeah.” 

You didn't mind this happening more often, and you're open to hanging out with anybody you like, Kie's friends, especially JJ. It's like you're a part of them but just not all the way, not willing to give up your friendships with certain people over a dumb name.

You make your way up the stairs and into your room, making sure to shout a quick “Hurry up!” to Kie in the process. In your room, you try and get yourself a little dolled up. You don’t want to admit it, but it’s for JJ. You wanted weird things when it came to him, like you wanted him to think you’re pretty or… take off your clothes, but that’s a different story. 

You found everything JJ did so interesting, and you always wanted to get to know him more, but more than ever, you felt connected with him, like he was a part of you. When you saw him, your heart softened, and you wanted to just kiss all his worries away. You could tell he was sad, but he brought light to whatever darkness he was around, just like you. 

You giggle thinking about his goofy antics and fix up your makeup and hair. putting it up and continuing everything else you put on a cute but comfy outfit with your favorite low-rise Converse with pink laces and spraying a perfume that smells almost of laundry detergent, your favorite smell.

and you leave and wait for Kie on the porch. As the door flung open, you start walking towards your bike and Kie in front of you. “Hey, uh, where are we going anyway?” and Kie looking strangely tense. smirks, “Keege time, baby.” She slaps on the bike and hops on.

You smile a bit and shrug. What happens, happens.

—-

You already know the drama that’s about to unfold, and maybe, just maybe, you're secretly excited. especially as a kook hanging out with her kook sister who’s hanging out with her Pogue friends.

“Okay, here we are; gimme your bike.” You gladly hand it over to her and start your walk to everyone. 

“Hey, is that Y/N?” John B ran up to you. “Wassup? Haven’t seen you in a while, dude. Come help; we’re just starting everything. C’mon, Kie!” 

You look behind him to see Pope waving and JJ stupidly saluting you; you try and hide your smile, making your way towards them. “Hey, Pope,” you say softly, giving him a hug. “Hi, Y/N, I’ve missed doing your work in class. You know you could really—” JJ lets out a loud sigh and throws his hat at Pope's head. “Dude! Leave me alone!” He grabs at his hat and throws it back, and you giggle. “Hi, asshole.” JJ looks up at you and puts his hat back on and stands up from the huge branch. “What’s up, princess?” he smiles smugly, shoving his hands into his pocket. “I like this top; he pinches at it, and it slaps back on top of your skin, strangely making you blush and your stomach turn just a bit. You swat his hand away. “I don’t care. "Don't touch me?” you say in a teasing voice; you made him laugh. “Can you shut up? stop talking?” He started down at you and shoved you playfully, letting a giggle out, then a shriek, when he threw you over his shoulder and started running towards the water. “JJ, I’m going to kill you!” 

“Can they stop flirting it’s disgusting.”

—-

As everyone started to pile up, the more looks started to notice you on the other side, including Sarah, who gives you a… strange look. You can tell what she wanted to say: ‘What are you doing there with them?’ but you ignore it, continuing to talk with Pope about stupid stuff. “Okay, so why did NASA switch from the water to the shitty space dude? There are aliens down there.” “Define an alien right now, Y/n.” 

—-

It got darker, and more people came and went, and you could sense something was about to go down with the way Topper came up to JJ. You turn around to say goodbye to some guest. You turn around again, and boom! Topper and JJ are pushing each other around, John B trying to get in the middle. “Shit... idiot.” 

You quickly stand up and rush to the area. John B. now taking a blow from Topper and another guy trying to shove JJ, “Hey… hey! Get off him! J, come on, stop it!” You grab him by the shoulder, and it took him a second, but he listens. Surprisingly, you dust him off and look up at him. worry and concern all over your face, “Don’t do that, JJ; you can get hurt or hurt someone else.” If it weren’t for the fight happening just right next to you, JJ would want to kiss you, but he had to ignore the butterflies and your loving look, and he had to watch John B and Topper fight, ready at any moment to jump in. You turn your attention to Sarah, who’s screaming her boyfriend's name, and it all happened so fast. JJ is over Topper with a gun to his head; your eyes widen. “how the hell does he have that?” “JJ, stop it!” “Can you check your psycho friend?” Sarah shouts at Kie, who’s now next to you, “Can you check your psycho boyfriend?” You shout back, “Yeah, he tried to drown him!” Kie screams, “JJ, let go of the gun!” 

—-

“So you mean to tell me you found a crash. went onto it. found a key. decides, "Hey, let us go to this random hotel the day after a hurricane," finds money! a gun! then finds out it is now a part of an open investigation! your dirty, sticky fingerprints all over the place! and THEN you bring out that same gun! around a whole bunch of kooks, JJ, are you kidding me? How dumb can you be?" You shove your face into your hands. "I really don't feel like being lectured right now. He was going to drown him, Y/N/N. What else could I have done?" You look at him with a straight face. “Literally anything else.” 

“Whatever, dude! It happened already. What do you want me to do? Hold on. Why do you even give a shit? 

It’s still dark out, and you're outside by the hammock, JJ sitting down on the ground and you standing in front of him. Everyone else went home, and John B is inside.

“I don’t know, JJ, maybe because I care about you.” Your tone softens. “That’s really stupid; you can get in a lot of trouble,” you say, looking down. He stands up and makes his way towards you, feeling the tensions rising already with each step. You look up. “You’re lucky you’re so likable; you would’ve been in juvie by now.” He smiles and looks down at you. “I’m likable?” His tone lowers, and that stupid smirk is on his face, his stare heavy and his pupils blown out. “Well, I’ve got nothing to lose, and you’re a part of this now, so it looks like we’re both going to have to be stupid.” 

“Yeah?” You look up; he couldn’t take those eyes you give him. “Yeahh…” He smirks and runs his hands through his fingers, seemingly getting ready to get serious. “I, uh, I’ve missed you, Y/n like a lot. I missed you coming by my house and, you know, helping me when, you know, my dad... Yeah, when I needed someone the most. no one has ever done that for me, so willingly and i don’t know, im not crazy right, cause man it feels like you barely know me but yet know everything and i just want to-”

And without thinking, you throw your arms around his shoulder and pull him into a soft yet passionate kiss, his arms grabbing at your hips, deepening the kiss, leaving you breathless with every pent-up emotion and tension, all in the kiss.

You pull back for a second, catching your breath, his pretty eyes scanning your face. “You okay?” He asks softly, “Yeah,” you say back, taking a moment, his eyes on yours, and you blush. “I really like you a lot,” his eyes and his heart soften, but there’s this feeling of fear as well. “Me too.” And he quickly puts his lips back on yours; this time the kiss is more rough, leaving you breathless. Grabbing at your thighs, he swiftly lifts you up and carries you toward The Chateau. and straight into John B's spare room, laying you down on the bed, continuing the rough kisses, leaving you a whimpering mess.

“Mm, you're so pretty, princess. He lifts your leg up so it’s hanging by his side, and he slowly grinds his hips into yours; you let out a strangled moan into the kiss. “Shit.” 

The window was slightly open, so the cold breeze of the night filled the room's air, cooling you guys down as JJ filled you up to the brim, the moon's light shining just enough so he could see the pretty faces you make with each slow and long thrust. His head goes down to your neck while he whimpers so softly, fighting back the urge to say the three most beautiful words he could only show it as fucks any bad feeling out of you. "Fuck, baby, look at you." 

"What a mess." His thrusts started to become rougher yet still slow, the sound of his skin slapping yours, wet and juicy. You tried to keep quiet, but he fucked you so good you couldn't even think, "Mmph, I can't take it, JJ, too good." You let out with a squeak as he got rougher and rougher, grabbing at your face and kissing you nice and slow. It all was so passionate your heart fluttered with every movement. You could tell the love and care he put into everything; you felt seen; you felt loved. 

"Yeah, baby? You like that? Come on, be good for me, cum." 

You let out a series of the cutest moans he's ever heard. and he felt you make a mess all over his dick as he fucked into you faster. 

"Good girl, baby, good fucking girl," he moans as he pulls out and cums all over your stomach; you whimper, feeling shy. "Come here; do you want more?" He lifted your jaw up to look up at him and gave you a kiss on the forehead. You nodded, "Yeah? You want more?" His smile widened. "Come here." 

He turns around so you're on your stomach but still somewhat on your side; he wants to be able to hit every spot. "Fuck, you look so good; look at that ass, princess." He slaps your ass, not too hard but enough to get you red; you squeal. "Please, JJ, please," you cry, just dumb on his dick; that's all you want.

He doesn't say anything or warn you; he just starts to fuck into you hard and fast. causing a string of cries and moans, "Fuck, look at you. I love seeing you like this, baby."

It was sloppy, and he was quick, but the tempo slowed down, and he grabbed at your hips, slowly letting you bounce on his pretty dick, watching your ass giggle with each bounce, and slowly letting you start to do it on your own. Watching you struggle turned him on in ways he couldn't explain. "We're going to go all night, princess, all night." 

[mapis-putellas]

𝑰’𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖

Pairing: Ingrid Engen x reader

Words: 1800+

Warnings: Death. Grief. Loss of a baby. It’s pretty heavy.

Summary: Ingrid loses the two loves of her life in just a matter of seconds.

The morning started like any other. You'd woken up to the sensation of gentle kisses being pressed against the back of your neck and shoulders. You'd turned, eyes barely open, to see Ingrid already awake, her green eyes bleary as she stared down at you with that beautiful smile you loved oh so much. Your insides turned to mush at the sight as you turned fully onto your back, hands reaching up to cup her cheeks, the pads of your thumbs trailing gently over the warm skin.

No words were spoken. You simply stared at one another for a moment before she leaned down to press a tender kiss to your lips. Your eyes fluttered closed at the sensation as you deepened the kiss just slightly, feeling the warm breath of her exhale against the tip of your nose. Her lips were gentle. Soft. All kinds of addicting. She pulled away after a moment, soothing your pout with a gentle touch of her finger before she leaned forward to bury her face into your neck. You cup the back of her head, fingers tangling through messy mane of hair as her hand drifts down to rest against your swollen stomach.

"I love you," a quiet murmur against the skin of your neck.

"Who?" You tease. "Me or the baby?"

Ingrid pulled her face from your neck, sending you a playful glare. You simply raised an eyebrow in response, and Ingrid huffed as she dropped her head back down to rest against your shoulder. "You. But I do love the baby too." She murmured, and you smiled, craning your head just a little so you could press a gentle kiss to her forehead.

After a little while of cuddling, she'd pulled you into the shower where she'd insisted on washing your hair for you.

After a quick breakfast and coffee together, Ingrid kissed you goodbye before leaving for training, her hand lingering on your growing bump as she murmured her usual reminder to rest. She'd been doting ever since you'd found out you were pregnant, always making sure you didn't overexert yourself. You appreciated her care deeply, but at times, you couldn't help but feel restless under the constant insistence to take it easy.

So, once she was gone, you decided to make use of the sunny day and tackle a few errands. Just a couple of stops—nothing too strenuous. You made a quick list, grabbed your bag, and headed out, promising yourself you'd be back before Ingrid even noticed you were gone.

The grocery store was your first stop, and as you strolled leisurely down the aisle's, you noted just how good it felt to be out and about. You picked up a few things for dinner and some snacks you'd been craving, smiling as strangers offered you warm smiles and congratulations on your pregnancy. Your bump wasn't big, hardly noticeable if you weren't paying attention -or so you had thought, so to receive so many congratulations from so many strangers was a little overwhelming, making you speed up the pace a little.

From there, you swung by a baby store to browse, marveling at the tiny outfits and imagining your little girl wearing them. You also looked at cribs, high hairs, and even a stroller you'd had your eye on for weeks. You make a mental note to return with Ingrid in a few days to get her opinion. By the time you were ready to head home, your energy was starting to wane, but your mood was light. The day had been simple but satisfying, a small taste of normalcy amidst the whirlwind of pregnancy.

You were just a few miles from home when it happened.

The light ahead turned green, and you eased forward through the intersection. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a blur of movement—a car speeding toward you, too fast, too close. There was no time to react, no time to swerve. The impact was deafening, metal crunching and glass shattering as the other car slammed into the driver's side of your vehicle. The force of the collision sent you spinning, your body jolting violently against the seatbelt as the world around you blurred.

And then, everything went silent.

When the paramedics arrived, the scene they found was devastating. Your car was crumpled, unrecognizable, the driver's side taking the brunt of the hit. Inside, you sat slumped over the steering wheel, unmoving, bleeding. They worked quickly to extract you from the wreckage, their faces grim as they assessed your condition. The paramedic who reached you first placed his fingers against your neck to check for a pulse. His expression hardened when he felt nothing.

Despite the odds, they began CPR, desperately trying to bring you back. Another paramedic monitored your vitals, their voice tight as they called out the lack of response. They worked tirelessly, refusing to give up even as the minutes dragged on.

But it was no use. No pulse. No heartbeat. You were gone.

When the paramedics finally stopped, their hands stilling, there was a moment of heavy silence. One of them looked down at your swollen belly, his jaw tightening as he muttered something under his breath.

The realization hit the rest of them all at once.

There wasn't just one life lost in that car. There were two.

*

Ingrid was mid-drill on the training pitch when her phone began to ring. The team, used to ignoring personal calls, paid no mind. The assistant coach quickly jogged out onto the field, waving Ingrid over with an urgency that made her stomach turn in a way it never had before.

"Ingrid," the coach said as he got close enough, his voice low. "You need to take this."

The phone was pressed into her hand, and as soon as she answered, the words on the other end struck her like a physical blow.

Car accident. Drunk driver. No survivors.

Her knees buckled, and she sank to the ground, unable to process what she was hearing. No. It couldn't be. Not you. Not the baby. Her hand trembled as she gripped the phone tighter, demanding answers, demanding an explanation that would make sense of the impossible.

But there was none.

Through her shattered focus, she was told to come to the hospital. You had been taken to the mortuary. The paramedics had tried everything, but there was nothing they could do.

Ingrid didn't remember how she got there. Someone must have driven her, perhaps a teammate, but it didn't register. By the time she arrived at the hospital, her mind was numb, her body moving on autopilot as she stumbled through the sterile halls.

She felt like she was underwater, her senses dulled, her vision blurred. Nurses spoke to her softly, guiding her toward the mortuary, but she couldn't hear their words. All she could think of was you. Your laugh, your smile, the way you'd rest your head on her shoulder in the evenings. And the baby—your baby girl. The one you'd spent months dreaming about, planning for, loving before she even arrived.

The nurse leading her opened a door, stepping aside to let Ingrid enter. She froze in the doorway, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes fell on you.

You lay on a cold steel table, covered by a white sheet that left only your face visible. Your skin was pale, your features still. Too still. The life and warmth she knew so well were gone, replaced by an unshakable finality that tore through her chest.

Ingrid took a shaky step forward, then another, until she was standing beside you. Her knees threatened to give out again, but she forced herself to stay upright, her hand reaching out hesitantly.

Her fingers brushed your cheek, and the chill of your skin made her flinch. Her hand retreated momentarily before she steeled herself and cupped your face, her thumb brushing lightly over your temple as though that small act could bring you back to her.

"I don’t..." she choked out, her voice breaking as the tears she'd been holding back finally spilled over.

Her other hand moved to your stomach, resting gently where your baby girl had been growing. The bump she'd spent hours talking to, whispering about the future, making promises she was desperate to keep.

"You were supposed to have so much more time," she whispered, her words trembling.

The room was silent except for her quiet sobs. She dropped her forehead to yours, her tears wetting your skin as she crumbled.

Ingrid stayed like that for a long time, lost in the aching void you'd left behind. Eventually, her hand slid down from your face to your hand, threading her fingers through yours. She squeezed, even though she knew there would be no response, no familiar pressure returning the gesture. Her mind raced with memories. The first time you'd met, the way she'd fallen for you so quickly it scared her. Your engagement, the laughter you'd shared as you planned your wedding. The joy on your face when you told her you were pregnant.

It wasn't supposed to end like this.

She thought of all the things you would never get to do, all the plans you'd made together that would now never come to pass. You'd never get to hold your baby girl, never get to see her grow up. Ingrid would never get to see the way your face lit up when you talked about her future, never get to hear you laugh again, never get to hold you in her arms.

Her heart shattered into a million pieces as she realized she'd have to go home alone to a house filled with your things, to a nursery you'd painstakingly decorated together. She'd have to live in a world where you didn't exist, and she didn't know how she was supposed to do that.

A knock at the door jolted her slightly, and a nurse peeked in, her expression one of quiet sympathy. "Take all the time you need," she said gently before closing the door again.

Ingrid pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering as her lips trembled against your skin.

"I love you," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I will always love you. So much. Both of you."

The weight of her loss settled over her fully then, a suffocating blanket of grief that she knew she'd carry for the rest of her life. But even through the despair, she knew she had to hold on to the love she had for you and the baby. It was all she had left. She sat in the room with you for hours, unwilling to leave, unable to let go. And when she finally did, it was with a promise to carry your memory with her no matter where she went.

**

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @wileys-russo @mead-iocre @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @simp4panos @silentwolfsstuff @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan

[lazysoulwriter]

The Game - Drew Starkey.

850 words kinda smut

It was a quiet night, the kind where you and Drew found yourselves sprawled on the couch, the soft glow of the TV flickering in the background. The two of you had been together for months, knowing each other better than you knew yourselves. And tonight, you decided to play a game. A simple game—well, simple in theory.

“A game of trust,” Drew had called it, his smirk almost too innocent as he set the rules: ask each other questions. If one of you got it wrong, you had to take something off.

At first, it seemed harmless enough. You’d both played silly games before, but there was something about the way his eyes lingered on you that made the room feel different. Charged. Dangerous, even.

“So,” Drew began, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his gaze intense. “First question. What’s my full name?”

You grinned, leaning back on the couch with a thoughtful look. “Easy,” you said, your voice playful. “Drew Starkey.” You laugh.

His eyebrows shot up. “Don't be like this.” He laughs "Wrong."

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Well, then I guess I’ve got to take something off,” you teased, standing up and slowly pulling your top over your head. You felt his gaze on you, his eyes darkening, but he didn’t say a word.

“Your turn,” you challenged, tossing your top onto the chair nearby.

He grinned, leaning back on the couch, looking at you with a glint of mischief. “Alright, alright. What’s my favorite movie?”

You narrowed your eyes, biting your lip. He’d mentioned it before, but you couldn’t quite remember. “I don’t know… The Godfather?”

His lips twitched. “Wrong again. It’s Pulp Fiction.”

A low laugh escaped your lips, and you shrugged. “I guess that means I have to take something else off, right?”

“Please,” he murmured, watching intently. “I’m not complaining.”

You slowly unbuttoned your jeans, taking your time, feeling the heat of his stare. The tension between you two was palpable now, and you both knew it wasn’t about the game anymore. It was about the undeniable pull that kept growing with each passing second.

“Alright, alright,” he said, clearly struggling to keep his cool. “Next question. What’s my least favorite food?”

You thought about it for a moment, running your fingers through your hair. “I’m going to guess… broccoli?”

Drew’s face lit up with a satisfied grin. “You got it. Broccoli’s disgusting.”

You playfully groaned, crossing your arms. “Finally, a right answer. Well, lucky for you, I don’t need to take anything else off.”

He chuckled, his eyes sweeping over you, still sitting with an air of quiet confidence. But as the game wore on, it became clear who was winning—and it wasn’t him.

It was your turn again, and you were feeling a bit too smug. Drew had been steadily losing this game, each question pulling him closer to… well, losing more than just a piece of clothing.

“You ready?” you asked, smirking. “What’s my favorite thing to do on a lazy Sunday?”

His eyes searched yours, and for a split second, you saw the calculation in his gaze. He knew you better than anyone else. But the question stumped him.

“Uh, nap?” he guessed, his voice uncertain.

“Nope,” you said with a slow shake of your head. “It’s binge-watching Netflix and eating pizza.”

“Damn it,” he muttered, sitting up straight and pulling off his shirt with exaggerated slowness. His muscles flexed as the fabric slid off his body, and the air between you two became thick with unspoken tension.

You couldn’t help but stare for a moment, admiring the way his body seemed to glow in the dim light of the room.

“Alright,” Drew said, trying to regain his composure. “Your turn.”

By now, the game had lost all pretense of innocence. There was no question you weren’t both aware of the heat building between you, and every piece of clothing lost seemed to make it worse.

As you looked at Drew, a mischievous smile tugged at your lips. “Okay,” you said, leaning forward. “Final question. What’s the one thing that drives me crazy when you do it?”

Drew’s lips curled into a sly grin. “I know this one. It’s when I… tease you. You can’t stand it when I do that.”

You stared at him for a moment before shaking your head. “Wrong. It’s when you… make me wait.”

His grin faltered for a second, and his eyes darkened with understanding. “So, I lose?” he asked softly.

You nodded, enjoying the way the tension seemed to vibrate in the air between you two. “You do.”

Before he could even process the words, you stood up, slowly walking toward him. You placed your hand on his chest, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your fingertips.

“Now,” you said, voice low and teasing, “let’s see what happens next.”

He leaned forward, his lips grazing the side of your neck as his hands settled at your hips. “I think I’m going to enjoy this,” he murmured.

The game was over, but the night had just begun.

[flw3rrr]

I love the idea of sevika with a retired brothel worker. Like they fell in love and sevika got her a job at the last drop or smth.

I also love the idea of mama sevika. I would love to give her a child 😭 so maybe domestic fluff around sevika her wife and their child. Lil' Families are my favorite thing

The bright side of things

Parings: Sevika x Retiredbrothelworker!reader

Warnings: Nothing major, Fluff, just full on FLUFF, No mentions of Y/n, and no description of reader. Sevika trying to seem tough around the kid, but fails. (100% let me know if anything is missed!)

Word count: 1.4k

Not proofread! sorry for any typos. I wrote this at like 2 am....oops

A/n: Thank you so much for this request. I loved this idea so much when I first read it, so I had to do this one immediately! 

(I have so many more amazing requests in my inbox, and I'll get to them soon! Thanks so much again for sending this, and I hope you enjoy it)

Dividers by: @cafekitsune

Ever since you retired from working at the brothel, life seemed more simple and comfortable. Sevika, who you met a few months ago before your retirement, had grown onto you. The way she carried herself whenever she would stride around the building made you burn inside a little.

It all got better when you were told you were booked for an hour. Dreading what kind of person you'd have to entertain or boost their ego to make them feel something, but with a big surprise when your face met with Sevika's, she was leaning back, legs spread open as a cigar sat on her lips. That's how everything started for the both of you.

Sevika offered you a job at the last drop when you first told her of your retirement; it got tiring and exhausting physically and mentally. Your heart melted at her offer and took it immediately. It's something you never in your life thought you would work at, but what can you expect? It's a way better job than working at a brothel, body sore and no break.

You always remember to thank her whenever possible; Sevika isn't the type to show affection in public, so you'd always kiss her on the cheek and lips as a way of thanking her. Sharing each sweet moment with one another in your new shared apartment. The undercity wasn't some fairytale place to grow up, but with her presence, it made you forget everything.

Sevika likes that you took her offer on working at the last drop. She now gets to keep an eye on you, especially when she plays poker, and in the quick moment whenever you'd hand her a drink, your eye's lock on hers every time you hand her the glass, a soft and sweet look. Of course her gaze locks in yours in return, but never softens; she can't let half of the undercity that she's practically on her knees for you.

And this is where the both of you are now, still together and head over heels for one another. The two of you sat on the couch that sat in the small living room; you held a sketchbook, drawing random doodles, never being the professional type, though. Sevika just watches you making a game of her own on trying to guess what you're making or stares very confusingly at it. Everything was quiet and calm until a thump was heard from one of the bedroom doors.

The sound of feet padding against the wooden floor became louder until a small girl appeared with a huge smile on her face. Immediately she decided to join the both of you on the couch, but rather than sit, she began to jump and speak very fast.

"Can I please, please, pleaseee come to work with you, Momma? I want to make drinks with you." Speaking so fast, neither you nor Sevika could comprehend a single word. Glancing at Sevika for a quick moment and back to the child before stopping her from jumping on the couch to avoid any possible injuries.

"Selani, remember what we both said about jumping on the couch? You could get hurt easily." Her smile dropped as she looked at Sevika, who spoke about 'the couch wasn't cheap.' Selani gave a nod in return before sitting herself down onto the couch. Both you and Sevika took Selani in after you both found her alone with nobody near; it broke your heart badly, and with not much nagging, you both quickly became her adoptive parents.

You could tell Sevika cared for her just as much as you did, catching moments between the both of them, Selani play fighting with Sevika, who obviously would go easy on the kid knowing her strength would accidentally crush or break a bone. Or whenever Sevika's arm needed to be repaired or a quick fix, Selani was standing right by her, being the best helper.

Slowly shaking your head, sitting down by Sevika once more, both of you would take Selani with you to the last drop, as you had nobody to watch over her. Thank goodness for Jinx sometimes, but you never wanted to pressure her watching over some kid, but she always proves you wrong when Selani is gone, in seconds walking away with Jinx to do whatever.

Sevika did whatever Silco wanted her to do, whether it be cleaning up one of his messes with people or looking scary behind him. But she is graced with time to herself, which is usually at the table playing poker. You'd always say her playing poker was a show just for you because you got to watch her from afar enjoying the smirk her face always held as the other players held a look of defeat.

"You lucked out, kid; none of us are going today." Sevika spoke up, breaking you out of your train of thought. Selani frowned at the news of not going out. She always wanted to be out exploring or at the last drop, whether it be with Jinx or sneaking away and somehow finding Silco and bothering him; he seemed to not mind, you hoped.

"What? Why not?!" Crossing her little arms in frustration, both of her eyebrows slanted. That is the start of a tantrum you've grown to learn from the years you took her in--not fun at all, you remembered. It took both of you time to learn how to be parents to a child, having no prior experience, though Sevika had a tiny bit from when Jinx was younger.

Sevika let out a huge sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose before looking back up at Selani. "Because we both got the day off, and you usually take those for granted, trust me, kid." Selani's gaze just stared at the both of you; confusion covered her face. The both of you never had a day off, so why now all of a sudden? Adjusting your body to sit more straight, you faced her directly, a soft smile placed on your face knowing it's good to talk to her straightforwardly with a few restrictions but to help her feel more validated and that she had your attention.

"It's a good thing not to worry, Selani; it just means me and Sevika have the whole day with you to play or cook, even just relax if you wanted." As soon as those words left your mouth, her face lit up as if she saw a whole pile of candy with a sign that said free. "Really!" A toothy grin appeared with one missing front tooth. Giving her a nod, she immediately shot up, running over to the both of you.

Once she was in front of you both, you could tell many ideas of games were filling her little mind. Taking both of your hands, making you stand. "Do you guys have any game ideas?" Selani asked, pride filled within you, teaching her to always ask her friends if they had any ideas before doing all of hers to ensure a fair game. Within a second, Sevika tapped her shoulder before dragging you away, running. "Your it!" is what you had managed to comprehend.

"That's cheating!" Selani yelled, her laugh heard behind you as you both ran. Now ending up in your shared room with Sevika, you purposely slowed down, letting Selani catch up and tap you. Quietly, you both teamed up to get Sevika and corner her. She went in the other room first, then you followed behind.

Immediately, Selani ran at Sevika, jumping on her; following Selani's actions, avoiding hitting them both, the three of you land onto the bed. Laughter could be heard throughout the whole apartment. And if it was heard by anyone, they would only think how happy you all are. This was your safe spot, where happiness is the love of your life and beloved child. 

Sevika carefully flipped Selani over the bed, and a game of play fighting began. You watched to make sure they both didn't get hurt, and to your surprise, Selani pulled the kick method. "You called what I did cheating. What you're doing is cheating!" She joked, a smile plastered on her face as she managed to get ahold of Selani.

In a moment, Selani whispered something to Sevika, and a grin grew as they both slowly turned to look at you. "Uh oh, what's going on?" With a blink of an eye, they both grabbed you, landing back onto the bed, Selani tickled you on your stomach.

Even if your laughs filled the room, your thoughts only held on how much you adored this moment and would cherish it forever.

Life for you got automatically better and brighter once they both entered your life, and you'd never trade it away.

[ningningeve]

⋆˚࿔ ℒove in the mix .ᐟ daniela avanzini

daniela suggests a baking day at home, even though neither of you is particularly skilled in the kitchen. what starts as a simple idea quickly turns into a delightful disaster.

pairing daniela avanzini x fem reader, established relationship genre fluff wc 1.6k

♫ — stuck with u - ariana grande, justin bieber

it feels like years since you last saw your girlfriend, daniela. between your packed schedule as a full-time college student and her whirlwind of a life as an international idol, finding quality time together has been almost impossible. even the phone calls you manage to exchange always feel far too short.

but this week, everything changes. daniela managed to carve out a short break in her busy schedule just to spend time with you, and you couldn’t be happier.

now, you’re standing at the airport, bundled up in your favorite sweats and sweater, nervously fidgeting with the drawstring of your hoodie. the lively conversations and the occasional sound of luggage rolling by do little to calm the excitement bubbling in your chest. it’s been so long since you’ve last seen daniela in person, and the thought of finally wrapping her in your arms again makes your heart race.

you glance at the arrivals board for what feels like the hundredth time, checking to make sure her flight hasn’t been delayed. the wait feels endless, but you know it will all be worth it the moment you see her walking through those sliding doors.

its almost as if you’d sense her arrival. the moment your eyes flick to the sliding doors. there she is. her curly blonde hair catches the light, looking as beautiful as ever, and the familiar, heart-melting smile spreads across her face— the one she saves just for you. for a second, the noise of the bustling airport faded away, and it’s like the world narrows down to just the two of you.

she continues walking towards you, her eyes sparkling with warmth, and you feel your breath hitch. it doesn’t matter how long it’s been or how far apart you’ve been. in this moment, everything feels right again.

the moment daniela is within arm’s reach, she lets her bags fall to the floor with a soft thud and closes the distance between you. her arms wrap tightly around you, pulling you into the kind of hug you’ve been dreaming of for months. she buries her face in your shoulder, her curls brushing against your cheek as the faint, familiar scent of her floral perfume, wraps around you.

“i love you,” she whispers, her voice so soft only you can hear it. it makes your heart swell.

as if holding her close could make up for all the lost time. for a moment, nothing else matters. not the bustling crowds, not the announcements overhead. just her, safe and real in your arms.

“i love you too,” you murmur softly. the words feel so natural, like they’ve been waiting to fall from your lips since the last time you saw her.

by the time you arrive at your shared apartment, the excitement of being together hasn’t faded. you help daniela unpack her things, placing her belongings in their usual spots while she tells you stories about her travels. even though you already know most of the details from your daily phone calls.

as the afternoon sun streams through the windows, daniela suddenly brings up an idea. “let’s bake something together!” she exclaims. neither of you is particularly skilled in the kitchen, but the thought of spending more time together… it’s impossible to say no.

before long, you’re in the grocery store, wandering the aisles with a small shopping list in hand. daniela insists on making a blueberry pie—her current favorite dessert. she tosses a box of cookies into the cart “just in case,” and you add an extra pint of blueberries, knowing full well some will never make it into the pie.

daniela manages to sneak a few candies from the bulk section while you pretend not to notice. by the time you check out, the cart holds far more than you planned, but neither of you mind.

later that evening, with the groceries spread out on the counter and the recipe open on your phone, the fun begins.

you start by preparing the crust, mixing flour, sugar, and a pinch of salt in a large bowl. daniela insists on cutting the butter into the mixture herself, declaring, “i’ve got this!” as she carefully works it in with her hands. “does this look crumbly enough?” she asks, holding up a handful of the mixture. you laugh and nod, reaching over to steal a bit of the dough and earning a playful nudge from her elbow.

next comes rolling out the crust. the two of you take turns with the rolling pin, softly giggling as the dough sticks to the counter despite your best efforts to sprinkle enough flour. eventually, you manage to press it into the pie dish.

for the filling, daniela measures out the blueberries, sneaking a few into her mouth when she thinks you aren’t looking. “stop! you’ll eat the whole filling at this point!” you tease, swatting her hand away as she grins that silly smile. together, you mix the blueberries with sugar, a pinch of cinnamon, and a squeeze of lemon juice.

carefully, you pour the filling into the crust, and daniela gets to work on the lattice top. her eyebrows knit together in concentration as she weaves the strips of dough, a look so adorable you can’t help but smile. “am i a baking expert or what?” she says proudly, stepping back to admire her work. you can’t help but let out a small laugh and nod your head yes.

by the time you slide the pie into the oven, the kitchen is a complete mess—flour on the counters, sugar dusting the floor, and a few stray blueberries rolling around—but neither of you cares. daniela leans against you with a contented sigh, her arms wrapping around your waist. “we make a pretty good team,” she murmurs, her voice warm with affection.

everything seems to be going smoothly as the pie bakes in the oven, the sweet aroma of blueberries filling the kitchen. but, as you clean up the counter, a creeping sense of unease starts to build. something doesn’t seem right. daniela notices your furrowed brow and asks, “what’s up?”

you glance at the recipe on your phone, then back at the empty measuring cups on the counter. your stomach sinks. “i think… i forgot the cornstarch,” you mumble, your voice barely above a whisper.

daniela tilts her head. “is that bad?”

your heart drops. “it’s the thing that thickens the filling. without it, the pie will probably be a soupy mess.”

daniela bursts out laughing, trying to lighten the mood, but you don’t join in. instead, the weight of everything—the messy kitchen, the forgotten cornstarch, and the pressure you put on yourself to make this day perfect—comes crashing down.

as you try to salvage the moment, disaster strikes again. while pulling the pie from the oven to check on it, daniela accidentally tips the edge of the dish against the oven rack. the lattice top slides to the side, and some of the filling sloshes over the edge and onto the bottom of the oven, sizzling and smoking.

panic sets in as you grab a towel and fan the smoke detector, but it’s too late. the piercing alarm fills the apartment, and you can’t hold back anymore. tears blur your vision as you set the towel down and press your palms to your face.

“i just wanted today to be perfect,” you choke out, your voice trembling. “you’ve been gone for so long, and i thought-”

daniela’s arms are around you in an instant, pulling you into her chest. she strokes your back gently, murmuring, “hey, it’s okay. don’t cry. it’s just a pie.”

you shake your head. “it’s not just the pie. i just… i wanted to do something nice for you. i wanted it to feel special.”

she pulls back slightly to look at you, her hands cupping your face. “you being here with me is what makes it special. i don’t care if the pie is perfect or if the kitchen looks like a war zone. i care about you.”

her words are soft and sincere, and despite your tears, you feel a small smile tugging at your lips. “even if the pie is soup?”

“especially if the pie is soup,” she teases, earning a soft laugh from you.

daniela wipes away your tears with her thumbs, her gentle smile never faltering. “come on,” she says, her voice soft yet playful. “let’s clean up and give this pie a second chance. worst case, we’ll just grab ice cream and eat it out the tub.”

her lightheartedness makes you laugh, and you nod, letting her pull you toward the mess. together, you tackle the chaos—blueberries on the counter, flour on the floor, and the slightly lopsided pie cooling on the stove. It’s not perfect, but by the time the kitchen is somewhat back in order, it feels like home again.

later, you both sit on the couch, the salvaged pie between you on a plate, topped with a generous scoop of vanilla ice cream. daniela takes a bite first and immediately breaks into a grin. “okay, it’s not so bad. definitely not soup,” she says, holding out her fork to you.

you try it and let out a small laugh. “you’re right. it’s… edible.”

she leans her head on your shoulder, her voice warm and teasing. “i think we should make this a tradition. every time i come home, we’ll bake something and see how it goes. disaster or not.”

you glance up at her, her golden curls falling across her face as she smiles contentedly. your heart feels full, and you realize that it doesn’t matter if the day wasn’t perfect. daniela’s here, and that’s what truly matters.

“deal,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to her plush pink lips.

the pie might not win any awards, but as you sit together, laughing and sharing bites, it feels like the most perfect thing in the world.

[capquinn]

Dad quinn with jack and luke having a tea party with his daughter and her dolls and she makes them dress up

The living room was chaos, but the good kind. The kind that came from his three-year-old daughter holding court in the middle of her very serious tea party, complete with a floral blanket as a tablecloth and a tiny ceramic tea set she insisted on arranging herself.

Quinn sat cross-legged on the floor, wearing a glittery plastic tiara that he’d forgotten about five minutes in. It was second nature by now — dressing up, playing along, doing whatever made her smile.

Across from Quinn, Luke was in his element, completely at ease in the whirlwind of pretend tea and glittering accessories. His niece was perched on his lap, her tiny hands carefully tipping the toy teapot toward a ceramic cup he held with exaggerated precision. The pink feather boa draped around his neck kept slipping off one shoulder, but he didn’t seem to notice. Or if he did, he leaned into the ridiculousness of it, readjusting it dramatically like it was part of some royal decree. Every flourish, every goofy movement was aimed at one thing: making her laugh.

And it worked.

She leaned against his chest, giggling so hard she nearly tipped the teapot too far. Her tiny fingers clutched the handle as she steadied herself, her cheeks flushed from laughter. 

“Uncle Lukey!” she squealed, her voice full of joy. “You’re spilling it!”

Luke gasped as if he’d committed the gravest of sins. 

“Oh no!” he said, sitting up straighter and clutching the cup like it held liquid gold. “Quick, pour me more so no one notices!”

She threw her head back in a fresh wave of giggles, her whole body shaking against him. Still grinning, Luke reached out to steady her little wrist as she tilted the teapot with a seriousness that belied the fact it was empty.

“Perfect,” he said as she finished, his tone so genuine it could have been mistaken for awe. “You’re a natural. The Queen of Tea Parties.”

Her laughter bubbled up again, spilling into the room as she beamed at him. Luke’s grin only widened, the softness in his gaze unmistakable as he looked at her. He had a knack for this — for making her feel like she was the most important person in the room, for meeting her imagination with an endless well of his own. She adored him, and the feeling was mutual, clear in every playful quip and dramatic gesture.

She turned the teapot upright with a decisive nod, then leaned back against his chest, sighing contentedly. 

“You’re silly,” she declared, her voice full of the kind of affection only a three-year-old could manage.

Luke chuckled, tapping her nose lightly. “Only for you, kiddo.”

Quinn felt a warmth settle in his chest as he watched them. Moments like this didn’t come often enough, not with the way their lives constantly pulled them in different directions. But seeing Luke lean so completely into her little world, his every exaggerated move drawing out her laughter, made Quinn pause. It was simple, but it meant everything.

Meanwhile, Jack lounged nearby, his legs stretched out in front of him, a toy teacup balanced precariously on his knee. The sequinned cowboy hat his niece had insisted he wear sat slightly askew on his head, and every few minutes, he’d reach up to adjust it with an exaggerated flourish, earning a giggle from her each time.

“Do I get any of this famous tea,” he drawled, leaning back on his elbows, “or is Lukey keeping it all for himself?”

Now standing beside the table with her tiny teapot, she paused to give him a pointed look, one hand on her hip. “Uncle Jack,” she said seriously, though the sparkle in her eyes gave her away, “you have to ask nicely.”

Jack gasped, sitting up straight.

“Oh, excuse me, Your Royal Highness,” he said, bowing his head deeply and holding out his teacup with dramatic flair. “May I please have a cup of the finest tea in the land?”

She beamed, clearly delighted, and wiggled off Luke’s lap to pour him a fresh cup. 

“You’re lucky I made extra,” she teased, the way he always did, her little voice full of pride.

Jack accepted it with a grin, bowing his head slightly in mock grandeur. 

“Why, thank you, m’lady,” he said, taking an exaggerated sip before smacking his lips. “Best tea I’ve ever had. Five stars. Nope! Ten stars.”

She giggled, covering her mouth with her tiny hand as she bounced on her toes. “Ten stars?”

“Easily,” Jack replied, settling back into his seat. “Lukey’s tea doesn’t even come close. You’re the pro.”

Her eyes lit up, and she leaned in, her voice dropping to a dramatic whisper. “Uncle Lukey doesn’t put magic in it.”

Jack let out a warm laugh, low and genuine, reaching out to pull her in for a quick hug. 

“Well, that explains it,” he said, his tone conspiratorial. “No wonder your tea’s the best.”

Her giggles bubbled up even more, and she pressed her forehead against his shoulder for a moment, basking in the playfulness of it all. Jack’s teasing smirk softened as he glanced down at her, the fondness in his expression unmistakable. 

“You’re the best, you know that?” He ruffled her hair gently, his tone quiet but full of affection. 

Her face lit up even brighter at his words, her teapot clutched tightly in her small hands. 

Quinn’s lips tugged into a smile, his heart swelling at the sight of his brothers playing along so easily, so naturally. This wasn’t a rare thing — his brothers adored her — but it wasn’t often they were all together like this. The laughter, the goofy costumes, the tiny teacups… It was exactly what he hoped she’d remember when she grew up. Not the big things, but this: the love that filled a room when she brought everyone together.

“Daddy, you didn’t drink your tea,” her little voice piped up, breaking through his thoughts. 

She stood in front of him, her tiny frame impossibly determined as she held out a fresh cup, the seriousness in her expression almost making him laugh.Quinn smiled, reaching out to take the cup. 

“Oh no, Bug, I can’t believe I forgot,” he said, his voice soft and playful as he brought the tiny cup to his lips, pretending to sip. He made a quiet, exaggerated sound of satisfaction. “Mmm, perfect. You’re the best tea-maker in the whole wide world.”

Her serious expression melted away into a bright smile, and before he could say another word, she leaned in, wrapping one arm around his shoulder in that shy, affectionate way little kids do when they’re basking in a compliment. Her cheek pressed to his temple as her fingers brushed the back of his neck.

“Thanks, Daddy,” she murmured, her voice small and sweet, and Quinn felt his chest tighten in the best way.

He turned his head just enough to press a kiss to the top of her head, his hand gently steadying the tiny arm she had draped around his neck. 

“Love you, Buggy,” he murmured, the words soft but carrying a weight of tenderness that he knew she couldn’t fully understand yet, though someday she would.

She giggled, that sweet, unfiltered sound that always tugged at his heart, and pulled back slightly to meet his gaze. Her wide eyes shone with delight before she spun around, skipping off to Luke’s lap with all the confidence in the world, her little crown wobbling precariously with each bounce.

He leaned back slightly, letting the moment wash over him. Luke was helping her fix a doll’s hat now, while Jack balanced the tiny teacup on the tip of his finger. His daughter’s giggles bubbled up again, spilling through the room like sunshine, and Quinn thought to himself — not for the first time — how lucky he was.

[daisymbin]

21. "we should bake something together—it’ll be a disaster, but fun."

Vernon has a craving for chocolate chip cookies and asks reader for help. lots of fluff and very domestic pls 🙂‍↕️

omg I love this....thank you for requesting this ahh!!!!

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // hansol's m.list

fluff prompt #21: "we should bake something together—it'll be a disaster, but fun."

hansol stood in the doorway of the living room, biting his lip nervously. he shuffled his feet a little, as if he couldn’t quite figure out how to ask. you looked up from your book, giving him an expectant look.

"hey," he started, his voice soft. "want to bake something with me?"

you blinked, a little confused. "bake? really? you hate cooking."

"yeah, well..." he scratched the back of his neck, glancing away for a second. "i was thinking... maybe we could make chocolate chip cookies? it’ll probably be a disaster, but, you know, fun."

you raised an eyebrow, setting the book down. "fun? you do realize you can’t even make toast without burning it, right?"

"hey, that was a one-time thing," hansol protested, his eyes widening with mock offense. "i was just distracted."

you snorted, crossing your arms. "uh-huh. distracted by what? nothing burns toast like that except for someone who’s not paying attention."

he pouted, his bottom lip jutting out dramatically. "there's a good 90% chance that I was probably distracted by you. now, come on. please? i promise i’ll make it up to you if it’s a mess. i’ll even clean up afterwards."

you sighed, feeling your resolve crumble. hansol could be annoyingly persuasive when he wanted to be. "fine. but if the kitchen ends up looking like a war zone, you're cleaning it up."

"deal!" he said with a bright grin, practically bouncing on his heels. "it’s going to be a fun one, i promise."

as you both headed into the kitchen, hansol started pulling ingredients out of the cabinets with such enthusiasm that you couldn’t help but laugh. flour, sugar, butter—he was setting it all up like he’d done it a hundred times before, even though you both knew he hadn’t.

you grabbed the chocolate chips from the counter. "you know," you started, "it’s kind of weird that you suddenly want to bake. you’ve always said cooking’s a pain."

hansol paused mid-movement, glancing at you with a sheepish smile. "well, yeah. it’s not really my thing, you know? but..." he trailed off, his gaze softening. "i don’t know. i guess i just... want to spend more time with you."

you blinked, surprised by his sudden honesty. "spend time with me? we spend time together all the time."

he shifted his weight, looking down at the counter, clearly trying to find the right words. "i don’t know... lately, i feel like we haven’t really... been doing things together, y’know? with all the schedules and work, it’s like i’m always busy, and i miss you. i miss hanging out with you, just... doing something simple." he gave you a small, almost shy smile. "so i thought baking would be a good excuse."

you felt your heart soften at his words. he’d always been so busy, always on the move. the rare moments when he was home, really home, felt like treasures. you smiled at him, walking over to where he stood, and lightly nudged him with your shoulder. "you really do miss me, huh?"

"yeah," he said quietly, a little sheepish but undeniably sincere. "i do.

you chuckled, brushing a stray piece of flour off his cheek, and reached for the mixing bowl. "well, how can i say no to that? let’s make these cookies, then."

hansol’s face lit up with a grin, his earlier hesitation vanishing. "really?"

"yeah," you said, feeling your heart flutter at his excitement. "let’s make a mess. we’ll burn a few cookies along the way, but it'll be worth it."

"yes!" hansol cheered, practically jumping into action. "this is gonna be great, i swear."

the two of you fell into an easy rhythm, flour dusting the air as you measured out ingredients and mixed them together. hansol was surprisingly good at cracking eggs without making a mess, though he did drop one onto the counter once and laughed it off.

"well, that’s one egg down," he joked, looking at the mess on the counter like it was no big deal. "but hey, we're getting there!" he quickly reassures you.

you laughed, shaking your head. "we’ll be lucky if the cookies don’t end up as hockey pucks."

"nah," hansol said, confidently. "i’m a pro at this now. we got this."

as you mixed the dough together, hansol snuck a piece of chocolate chip dough, only to be caught red-handed by you. "hey! no eating the dough yet," you scolded with a laugh.

he made a face, his mouth full of dough. "but it’s so good!" he protested through a mouthful. "you can’t blame me for sampling."

you rolled your eyes but smiled, pulling out the baking sheet to spoon out the dough. "just make sure the cookies are actually edible. that’s all i ask."

you both giggled your way through the whole process—laughter filling the kitchen as you dropped spoonfuls of dough onto the tray. even when a little flour splashed onto hansol’s shirt, he just grinned like it was all part of the plan.

when the cookies were finally in the oven, hansol leaned against the counter, his gaze softening as he looked at you. "thanks for agreeing to do this with me," he said quietly. "i know i can be a pain sometimes."

you reached out, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "you’re not a pain. i’m glad we did this. it’s nice... being here with you."

he smiled, his eyes lighting up. "i like it too. i like being with you."

the timer went off, and the two of you rushed to the oven, pulling out the tray with the cookies that were perfectly golden brown. well, mostly perfect. a couple were a little overcooked, but they were still good.

"they’re beautiful," hansol said with a grin, holding up one of the cookies as if it was a masterpiece.

you took a bite, and despite a slightly burnt edge, the warmth and sweetness hit you just right. "not bad for a first-time baker."

"i told you," hansol said, with a wink. "disaster, but fun."

you laughed, taking another cookie and handing him one. "definitely fun. and maybe not such a disaster after all."

hansol smiled, a little shy but warm, as he reached for your hand, squeezing it gently. "i’m really glad we did this," he said softly. "i missed you."

you squeezed his hand back, your heart swelling. "me too, hansol. me too."

[lumitoiile]

zhongli : [fleeting.]

☆ — tw! + content: by the time the lord of geo even comes to terms with his feelings, it's already far too late... angst, themes of d3.th. gn! reader (no pronouns.)

throughout the extended course of his life, zhongli has long since learned to appreciate the beauty in all things—even the temporary ones. 

the way the leaves fall from trees, the glow of lanterns at night, the way the wind breezes through the streets of liyue harbor... all things that would eventually come to pass, eroding away with time. mortals were very much the same. he has walked alongside them, observed them, and let them go, as is the way of the world.

then you came along.

you weren't the first human to intrigue him, but there was something bewildering about your presence in his life. perhaps it was how you treated him so unguardedly, never hesitating to share your thoughts, your laughter, your kindness.

you worked at a small tea shop he frequented, and though he'd initially visit for the quality of the tea, he found himself returning for another reason entirely. he told himself it was simple admiration, an appreciation for your warmth and the light you brought into the lives of others. but deep down, he knew he couldn't be fooled.

there was something different about you. something he could never fully place. it gnawed at the edges of his mind, bothering him in ways that defied his understanding. you would smile at him with an openness that felt disarmingly sincere, and speak to him with an ease he'd only ever known among those closest to him in his long, distant past.

it was troubling. dangerous. even in his mortal guise, he should have known better than to allow such feelings to grow.

so he kept his distance. you were temporary, after all; a fleeting thing. even when you would reach out with a friendly invitation or make a small effort to draw him closer, he would find an excuse to step back. to draw a line, to remind himself who he was... and what you were.

he decided he would simply admire you from afar, steadfast in his resolve and having convinced himself he was doing the right thing. what would come of permitting himself to indulge? only heartache and loss, things he had seen unfold countless times before.

there was one day when you had lingered by his table a bit longer than usual, a hopeful look in your eyes. "mister zhongli, would you care to join me on a walk? my shift ends soon, and the sunset is just lovely at this hour."

he hesitated, a flash of warmth stirring in his chest at the thought alone. he could almost picture it, walking with you, sharing a quiet moment alone together as the sun dipped below the horizon.

but he would not let himself yield. he cleared his throat, offering an apologetic smile. "i appreciate the offer, but i have business to attend to."

you nodded once and tried to hide the disappointment in your eyes. but he saw through you, and the sight lingered with him long after he left the tea shop.

still, no matter how many times he had refused you, your kindness never wavered. as the years passed by, you continued to reach out in small ways—a shared story, a cup of tea specially brewed just the way he liked, an invitation to join you on an evening stroll. sometimes he accepted, allowing himself brief moments of joy and companionship.

but he always maintained a wall between the two of you, an invisible barrier he felt he could not cross. he constantly reminded himself that it was for the best; you were human, he had told himself, incredibly fragile. it would be cruel to impose on your life, no matter how brief it might be. the least he could do was ensure that your world remained free of his interference.

but time moved on, as it always does.

your laughter grew quieter, your once sure steps slower. zhongli saw the signs and felt the familiar pang of inevitability. he watched as you grew older, the years etching lines of wisdom into your face and leaving your loud, bright voice soft with age, until one day... you simply weren't there.

he visited the tea shop for the first time in ages, only to receive confused looks and strange stares upon asking for you. who was he referring to? there was no one here by that name, they had said. no one they knew of.

you were gone.

loss was not a new experience for zhongli. though it wasn't until he reached the place where your ashes had been scattered—a spot up in the mountains overlooking the harbor—that he truly understood the finality of it all. there would be no more lingering glances, soft smiles, or warm invitations to walk with you and admire the sunset. he would never again see the way your eyes lit up when you'd greet him hello, or hear your laughter.

the regret sank in like a stone, unyielding and overwhelming. he had anticipated this. he thought he had prepared himself for this. but the painful ache in his chest grew into something sharp, something that twisted with every breath he took.

he knelt there, reflecting on every opportunity he had missed, the words he never expressed, the warmth he had turned away from. he told himself it was for the best, that he was doing what was right... that a god had no business falling for a mortal. yet here he was, mourning you with a grief so profound it left him hollow.

"i thought this was the answer," he said, his words disappearing into the gentle breeze. "i believed i could spare myself this pain by keeping you at arm's length. but perhaps... i was a fool."

the wind rustled gently around him, offering a small sense of comfort. he closed his eyes and allowed the ache to settle within him. he stayed there for what must have been hours, grieving quietly as cherished memories of you played in his mind. in that moment, he realized that there had been no safety in the distance he kept, no way to avoid the torture of your absence.

and as the sun faded below the mountains, casting the harbor in hues of gold and amber, he had finally declared the words he had never spoken aloud.

"i cared for you," he whispered. "more than i should have. more than you knew..."

the wind carried his words away, fading into the stillness of the world. morax, the god of contracts, had lost something he could never retrieve—not with all the wealth and wisdom in the world.

perhaps in another life, he could have loved you properly.

© lumitoiile. please do not copy, steal, translate, or edit my work.

[paigesbasketball]

Under Oath

Chapter 1: I Give You Mercy, Not Forgiveness

Paige x oc black!lawyer warnings: none I think

The fresh, cool air of UConn hit my senses as I stepped out of the car. If I’m being honest, I didn’t want to be here. But for the sake of being a good friend, here I am. I pulled into the guest parking spots in the lot, the last place I wanted to be today. I grabbed my phone and called KK to let her know I’d arrived.

I didn’t tell her about the dark part of this place, though. I never went to school here—never had the chance to. And even if I had, it wasn’t my story to tell. So, I decided to keep it quiet. Besides, KK loved this place. Who was I to tarnish that?

I adjusted my tan two-piece suit, the dark brown jacket hanging off my shoulders. If I was going to do the lawyer thing, I might as well do it in style. I stepped out of the car and headed toward the campus buildings, the weight of the job starting to settle on me. But something told me that whatever I thought I was walking into was only the beginning.

I walked through the familiar gates of UConn, trying to remind myself I was here for KK, not for anything else. She had reached out to me in a panic, telling me about a contract breach she and her team had gotten tangled up in. She didn’t mention who was involved, and I didn’t press her. Honestly, I didn’t care who was on the other side. My loyalty was to her.

But as I approached the gym, I felt a strange, sinking sensation in my chest. I couldn’t quite place it, but something in my gut told me I was about to walk into something bigger than a simple contract dispute.

KK was waiting by the court’s entrance, smiling brightly as she waved me over.

“Thank you for coming, Caty!” she said as I reached her, throwing her arms around me in a tight hug. Her excitement was infectious, and I couldn’t help but give her a small smile in return.

“I’m here. Let’s handle this,” I said, trying to sound confident, though I could feel the nerves beginning to bubble up.

KK led me inside, and my eyes instinctively scanned the room, not sure what to expect. Then, as if everything shifted in slow motion, I saw her.

Paige Bueckers.

She stood near the back of the room with her teammates, her blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. The moment my eyes locked with hers, everything around me seemed to fade. Betrayal. Deceit. I could feel it all in the pit of my stomach.

For a moment, I thought about walking away, telling KK I couldn’t do this. But before I could make a move, KK turned to me, pleading.

“Caty, please. You have to help us,” she said, her voice soft but desperate. “This could ruin Paige’s career. You can’t let that happen.”

I clenched my jaw, still seething with anger as my gaze stayed fixed on Paige. The memories came rushing back. I wasn’t ready to face her. I wasn’t ready to forgive her.

“You’re asking me to help her?” I snapped, the bitterness in my voice unmistakable. “After everything she’s done to my sister?”

“Caty, please,” KK repeated, stepping closer to me. “I know it’s hard, but we really need you.”

I took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside me. But I can’t help her, I thought. Not after what she did.

KK looked at me with concern, sensing the tension. “Why do you hate her so much, Caty?” she asked quietly, her tone more thoughtful than I expected.

I turned away for a moment, trying to suppress the anger that had been bubbling inside me for years. It wasn’t easy to talk about. Not with KK, and definitely not with Paige in the room.

“When we were younger,” I started, my voice cold as I relived the painful memory, “Paige invited my sister, Alexis, to a football game. We thought it was a date. She was so excited. But when she came home that night, she was crying. She told me it was all a setup. Paige didn’t really like her. It was just a joke to her.”

I took a shaky breath, the anger bubbling up again. “I didn’t believe it at first. I thought it was some kind of misunderstanding. But when I confronted Paige at school, she just ignored me. She ignored us. And I knew then what happened. She humiliated my sister. Left her heartbroken, and didn’t even care.”

KK listened quietly, her eyes wide with shock and sympathy. But I wasn’t finished.

“What made it worse,” I continued, “is that years later, both of them ended up at the same college. Alexis called me, crying again, telling me Paige had pulled this nasty prank on her. Another one. Something mean-spirited. I don’t even know the details, but it didn’t matter. I promised Alexis I would never speak to her again. And I haven’t.”

KK looked at me, her expression softening. “Wow, Caty, I had no idea…” she whispered. She paused, processing the story before she spoke again. “But... do you really think she’s that same person now? I mean, she’s here, playing for the team. She’s probably changed.”

I didn’t know how to respond. I didn’t want to believe that Paige had changed. Part of me wanted to stay angry, to keep the walls up. But seeing her again, hearing KK’s words, made me question it. Still, the hurt ran deep.

“I don’t know if she’s changed or not,” I muttered, looking away from KK and back at Paige, who was now looking at me with something that seemed like... regret? “But her ignorance toward me and her disrespect toward Alexis tells me everything I needed to know.”

KK took a step closer, her eyes pleading again. “Caty, please. I know this is hard, but I need you. We need you. We can’t get through this without your help. I swear, I’ll make sure this doesn’t bring up any of that old stuff.”

I stared at Paige for a moment longer, still seething. But KK’s words kept echoing in my head. This wasn’t just about Paige anymore. This was about my friend. And I wasn’t about to abandon her when she needed me most.

“Fine,” I said, my voice low but firm. “I’ll help with the team’s case. But Paige has to find someone else.”

KK hesitated, a mischievous look crossing her face. “Please, Caty. Please help her too. Who knows? Maybe you two can work things out... talk things through.”

I shook my head, still unwilling to forgive her. “I haven’t seen Paige in years. I’m sure she’s still the same. Maybe worse.”

But before I could argue any further, my eyes found hers again. Paige was standing there, still as beautiful as ever, her blonde hair gleaming under the gym lights. And I couldn’t ignore the pull I felt, the flicker of something different in her gaze. It was the strangest sensation.

I snapped back to reality as KK shouted with excitement. “Guys! She said she’ll help us!” she called out, bringing the attention of the whole team to me. They all started thanking me, but my eyes remained locked on Paige.

When we finally came face to face, I felt my stomach twist. She was even more attractive now than I remembered. What was wrong with me?

“Hi, Caty,” she said softly, a tentative smile on her lips.

I met her gaze, icy and unforgiving. “My name is Catayela to you, Ms. Bueckers,” I said coldly.

She flinched at the correction. “Fine. Thank you, Catayela, for taking our case. Does this mean… you forgive me?”

I couldn’t help but laugh in her face, the bitterness in my laugh startling even me. I stepped closer, whispering in her ear, just loud enough for her to hear. “I give you mercy, not forgiveness,” I said, stepping back and watching as she blinked, a soft pink blush staining her cheeks.

Something about that moment threw me off—her flushed cheeks, the way she seemed to absorb my words. It was strange, and I didn’t like it. Did I?. But the one thing I did know for sure? This was far from over.What really threw me off, though, was the company they had signed with. Tell-Time Stories. The name hit too close to home.

Hey guyssss catyy here. hope yall enjoyed the 1st chapter the second chapter should come out sometime this week

[solomonomenon]

skz ideal type

⚠️ for entertainment purposes only *based on tarot

𝙗𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣

personality:

someone who’s really in touch with their emotions, kind of dreamy and open-hearted, but also super intuitive and deep. they’d be someone who just gets him without needing to explain everything. there’s also playful, optimistic vibe about them, always seeing the beauty in things and bringing a creative energy to life. so, overall, it’s like someone who’s both a big dreamer and quietly wise, with a warm, emotional depth that feels really comforting.

appearance:

someone with sharp, confident look, with striking features—maybe bold eyes, a clean hairstyle, or a strong jawline. they’d look put-together but not in a flashy way, more like they just naturally stand out. they’d have a more relaxed, effortless style, like casual clothes that still look really good, maybe in earthy or neutral colors with a touch of unpredictability like they might take risks with their look, maybe with a cool tattoo, unique accessories, or some bold fashion choices.

𝙡𝙚𝙚 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬

personality:

he'd want someone who’s open to change and isn’t afraid to go with the flow. they’d also need to be tough in their own way, able to handle challenges and stand their ground when things get rough. there’s probably a vulnerability to them too, like they’re learning to become stronger and more independent over time, but they’re still kind and gentle at their core.

appearance:

someone with intense, magnetic vibe, something about them just draws people in, like they’ve got an edgy, mysterious energy. maybe they’ve got a sultry, confident look with bold features, like sharp eyes. at the same time, they’d have this fiery, energetic look that gives off vibrant, passionate energy. there’s also a youthful, fresh quality to them, like they’re still figuring things out and have a bit of an innocent, curious side. maybe a clean, neat style like button-up shirts, neat hair, with simple accessories.

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙗𝙞𝙣

personality:

his ideal type is someone who's confident and resourceful, someone who knows what they want and has the skills to make it happen, yet they wouldn't be quick to rush into things, instead weighing options thoughtfully. they’d definitely have a strong sense of justice and be the kind of person who stands up for what’s right and helps others out whenever they can

appearance:

they would probably have a bit of a humble, grounded look. they wouldn’t be super flashy, maybe more practical and laid-back in their style, but also not afraid to be a little different. he'd prefer someone with positive energy that just shines through, someone who has warm and inviting vibe, like their smile can light up an entire room.

𝙝𝙮𝙪𝙣𝙟𝙞𝙣

personality:

someone who’s super social and loves to connect with others, always up for a good time and making fun memories with friends. they’d also be really emotionally open and warm, not afraid to show affection or share how they feel. at the same time, they’d have a strong sense of right and wrong, someone who values fairness, knows when to stand their ground, and makes decisions based on what’s fair and just.

appearance:

mysterious, reserved look maybe they have like quiet intensity, their eyes or expression hold a lot of depth, making you want to know more. they’d also have this balanced, confident vibe, like they’re someone who carries themselves with a sense of self-assurance and dignity, like how someone might walk into a room and immediately command attention without even trying. think of someone with a sharp, elegant style, like a tailored suit or simple but sophisticated clothing that gives off a calm, powerful energy. and they’d have ethereal, almost otherworldly beauty like they look naturally stunning without much effort, maybe with soft, glowing skin and a graceful presence, almost like someone who could easily fit into a fairytale.

𝙝𝙖𝙣

personality:

someone who’s pretty well-rounded and at peace with themselves, someone who knows who they are and is confident in that. they’d also be super generous and caring, always looking to help others out and keep things balanced in their relationships. they’d have nurturing side, like they naturally want to take care of people and make sure everyone around them is okay.

appearance:

calm, introspective vibe like someone who doesn’t need to stand out but still has this quiet confidence about them. maybe they have a more relaxed, effortless style, something like simple but clean clothes, like a cozy sweater or a neat button-up, and a natural look that doesn’t try too hard. and he'd prefer someone who pays attention to the little details, maybe with a well-kept, put-together appearance that reflects how dedicated they are in everything they do. they’d also have this wise, comforting aura, like they’re someone you’d turn to for advice or just feel safe being around.

𝙛𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙭

personality:

someone who’s super confident and full of energy, they could light up the room with their passion and creativity, always ready to take charge. but they’d also have this quiet strength about them, like they’re really calm and patient even in tough situations, and they can handle anything that comes their way with grace. they’d also have a fierce, protective side, someone who always has your back, especially when it comes to the people they care about.

appearance:

they would probably have tough, resilient look, someone who’s been through challenges but still stands strong. they might have a more serious or guarded expression, like there’s a lot beneath the surface, but they still carry themselves with this quiet confidence. they’d have a bit of a mysterious edge, they don’t reveal everything about themselves right away, and their style would probably be a little unconventional, maybe wearing something that gives off that I know what I’m doing vibe, a cool jacket or unique accessories that make them stand out without trying too hard.

𝙨𝙚𝙪𝙣𝙜𝙢𝙞𝙣

personality:

someone who’s not afraid of shaking things up or starting fresh when needed. they’d also be super dreamy and imaginative, always thinking about the future and exploring different possibilities. they might not always know exactly what they want, but they’re excited by all the options ahead of them. they’d also have nurturing, caring side, someone who’s always there to look out for others and offer love and support.

appearance:

strong and confident. they’d also have a look that’s full of hope and adventure, maybe with a spark in their eyes like they’re excited about the future and whatever comes next. think of someone who dresses with purpose, maybe in sleek, bold clothes. they’d have humble and hardworking look, like they put effort into everything they do, even if no one notices. they could wear something simple yet practical, like comfy sneakers or a jacket.

𝙟𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙞𝙣

personality:

confident and knows how to stand up for themselves, not afraid to fight for what they believe in. they’d also be grounded in their values and have a strong sense of purpose, someone who knows where they’re going in life and doesn’t get easily swayed by others. they’d also have this curious, analytical side, always asking questions, analyze things deeply, and always be a few steps ahead.

appearance:

someone with active and energetic look who always seems on the move, with a spark in their eyes like they’re ready for anything. they’d have a practical, clean style like wearing something simple but stylish, maybe a well-fitted jacket and sneakers. and they’d be in good shape, showing off a strong, fit build. think of someone who dresses comfortably but still looks sharp, like they could easily transition from a workout to a night out.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

[star-centric]

Yarrow (Everlasting Love) || Dazai

MEANING: “Yarrow is a beautiful flower that shares twin meanings of healing and love. In modern times, the flower has become associated with love, since it has been used in weddings and even hung over matrimonial beds, in hopes of fostering true love for seven years after marriage.”

A/N: It’s been a while since I written anything let alone Dazai (please forgive me, I’ve been really sad lately lol). Reader is gender neutral!

❀ FLOWER SPECIAL MASTERLIST ❀

“Dance with me.”

Dazai reached his hand out to you, his smile being too gentle for the mischievous one that you’re used to. The music shifted from the jovial tone to something more soft and romantic, as some of the couples started to make their way to the floor.

“Right now?” It was lame, but you were caught off guard at how eager he was.

“I don’t see a better time than now.” He laughed, already pulling you from your seat. He felt warm as he cupped your hand, falling into the mix of the crowd. He pulled you into a slow sway, matching the rhythm of the tune. You were nervous, but it was the good kind of nervous that left you feeling giddy as the butterflies piled in your stomach.

You laid your hands around neck while his were locked around your waist, slender fingers tapping at your sides to get your attention. “You’re zoning out again.”

“Sorry- I’m trying to make sure I don’t step on your feet.” You chuckled. You weren’t as smooth as him, like he was with his words and actions.

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” Dazai took his opportunity to spin you, his palm landing on the small of your back. He brought you in close, chestnut eyes flickering from your own to your lips. “You look absolutely divine.”

You saw the growing look in his eyes and tapped his shoulder, “Be on your best behavior- your coworkers are watching.”

Dazai hummed, “Seeing someone as beautiful as you, they’ll understand.”

He didn’t give you time to respond as he dipped you, smirking at your shocked look. You shouldn’t have been surprised- you’ve known him for years. Back when he was lost in the Port Mafia, back when he believed he never had a chance in becoming a human. When he believed he never had a chance at being loved- but you proved him wrong.

Your journey together wasn’t easy by any means, but it became worth it when he began to slowly let down his guard, you finally chipping away at his layers. He never fully opened up to you with everything, but you weren’t expecting him to. There were still some things shrouded in his past that you don’t know, but you’re ready to ready to listen if he ever decided to tell you.

You remember when Dazai confessed to you, when he first shared his love. He told you that showed him the gentle side of humanity that he thought didn’t existed. He knew that you were genuine but also foolish- yet he couldn’t get enough of you just as you couldn’t get enough of him.

“Maybe it’s time we get some fresh air…”

“Osamu, we can’t just leave our guests.” You gently scolded.

“Why not? Everybody had you to themselves all day,” he leaned in closer, blowing on your ear. “Don’t I have a right to be selfish?”

Delicious shivers went down your spine as you tried to fight your smile. “You’ll have tonight and the rest of our lives to do that.”

The rings decorating your fingers were simple proof of that.

[m4rv3l-girl]

Could I pls get a part two of “the encounter”? I really enjoyed reading it and I love their dynamic. Even though they just met 🤭. They truly are made for each other. Then Bucky’s last line you hit me with!! Oooh that got me.😫

The Encounter - Part 2

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff. Fingering. Metal arm kink. Choking, momentarily.

The first thing Bucky noticed was warmth.

Not the kind that came from sunlight streaming through the window, though that was beginning to peek through the curtains. No, this was something softer, cozier, and undeniably human.

It took him a second to fully wake, his senses slowly coming online. That’s when he realized he wasn’t alone. Y/N was curled up against him, her head resting on his chest, one hand lightly fisted in his henley, like even in sleep, she didn’t want to let go.

He blinked down at her, his metal arm tucked protectively around her shoulders while his other hand rested near her waist. He didn’t remember falling asleep like this, but he wasn’t complaining.

Her steady breaths were the only sound in the room, and for a moment, Bucky just stared. The way her hair fell messily across her face, the faint curve of her lips, the way she seemed so completely at ease despite who he was, what he carried.

It was surreal, but in the best way.

She stirred slightly, her brow furrowing before her eyes fluttered open. It took her a second to orient herself, and when she looked up at him, her lips parted slightly in surprise.

"Morning," she mumbled, her voice husky with sleep.

"Morning," he replied softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Y/N blinked a few more times, her gaze darting to where her hand still gripped his shirt. "Guess I wasn’t kidding about not letting you be alone."

He chuckled quietly, his chest vibrating beneath her cheek. "I didn’t mind."

They stayed like that for another moment, the morning light casting a soft glow around them. But eventually, she pulled herself upright, stretching as she sat back on the bed.

"I should make some coffee," she said, running a hand through her hair.

"Coffee sounds good," Bucky replied, though he made no move to get up, his gaze following her as she rose from the couch.

Y/N padded toward the kitchen, barefoot and still wearing the oversized t-shirt she’d changed into the night before. Her hair was a mess, and she looked half-asleep, but to Bucky, she was mesmerizing.

He got up and followed her, leaning against the doorway as she busied herself with pulling out a coffee pot and rummaging through cabinets.

"You just gonna stand there and watch?" she teased, glancing over her shoulder at him.

"Maybe," he said, his lips twitching into a small smirk.

She rolled her eyes playfully but didn’t seem to mind. If anything, she seemed amused by his puppy-dog attention.

"Do you want anything to eat?" she asked, setting the coffee to brew.

"You don’t have to—"

"That’s not what I asked, James," she interrupted, turning to face him with a raised brow.

His mouth opened, then closed. There it was again—that no-nonsense attitude he was quickly coming to appreciate.

"Okay," he relented, lifting his hands slightly in mock surrender. "What’s on the menu, Doll?"

"Hmm," she hummed, tapping her chin dramatically as she turned back to the fridge. "How do you feel about eggs and toast? Simple, but effective."

"Sounds perfect," he said, his voice soft but sincere.

As she moved around the kitchen, Bucky couldn’t help but watch her with a kind of quiet awe. She wasn’t doing anything extraordinary—just cracking eggs, buttering toast, pouring coffee. But there was something about the way she moved, the ease with which she took care of things, that left him feeling… grounded.

"Is this weird for you?" she asked suddenly, breaking him out of his thoughts.

"What do you mean?"

She glanced at him over her shoulder, her expression curious but not unkind. "Being here. Letting someone… take care of you, even if it’s just breakfast."

He hesitated, his fingers brushing over the edge of the counter. "A little," he admitted.

Her gaze softened, and she turned back to the stove, flipping the eggs with a practiced hand. "Well, get used to it," she said lightly, though there was an undercurrent of meaning in her words.

Bucky didn’t respond right away, but his chest felt a little tighter, a little warmer.

By the time she placed a plate in front of him at the small kitchen table, he couldn’t hide the faint smile that tugged at his lips.

"Thanks, Doll," he said, looking up at her.

"Anytime, hun," she replied, sliding into the seat across from him.

They ate in companionable silence, the kind that felt natural and easy. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Bucky allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he could have something like this. Something simple. Something good.

As they sat finishing their breakfast, the soft clink of forks on plates and the warmth of the coffee filling the quiet, Y/N found her eyes drifting. She hadn’t really thought much about it before—hadn’t wanted to make him feel awkward, or worse, judged—but now, in the gentle light of her kitchen, she couldn’t help her curiosity.

Her gaze fell to his left arm, the metal glinting faintly in the sunlight filtering through the window. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t noticed it before, of course. But the night had been so easy, so natural, that bringing it up then would have felt… wrong.

She tapped her fingers on her coffee cup, weighing her words carefully. "Hey, Bucky?"

He looked up from his plate, his face softening at the sound of her voice. "Yeah, Doll?"

She hesitated for a second, her fingers fidgeting with the handle of her mug. "I’ve been meaning to ask… about your arm."

Bucky froze ever so slightly, his fork hovering midair. For a moment, she thought she’d made a mistake, that she’d crossed a line she shouldn’t have.

"I mean," she added quickly, trying to smooth over the moment, "it doesn’t bother me. At all. I just—well, you don’t see something like that every day, you know? And last night, I didn’t even think about it, because… I guess it just felt like it didn’t matter. But now, seeing it in the daylight..." She trailed off, biting her lip. "I’m just curious. If you’re okay with talking about it, that is."

Bucky finally set his fork down and leaned back slightly in his chair. For a moment, he just stared at her, his expression unreadable. She started to feel a prickle of nerves crawl up her spine, but before she could say anything else, he let out a soft breath, one that sounded almost relieved.

"You’re not scared of it," he said quietly, almost like he was stating a fact he hadn’t quite wrapped his head around yet.

"No," she said firmly. "Why would I be?"

That seemed to throw him for a loop. He blinked, his brows furrowing slightly. "Most people… they look at it and see a weapon. Or a reminder of… bad things."

Y/N tilted her head, studying him with an intensity that made his stomach flip. "I don’t see it like that," she said after a moment. "I see something that’s part of you. And last I checked, you’re not a bad person, Barnes."

His lips twitched into a faint, almost bashful smile. It wasn’t often someone spoke to him like that—like he wasn’t a walking list of regrets and sins.

"It’s not something I think about much when I’m around you," he admitted, his voice softer now. "That’s… unusual for me. I guess I forgot it was even there."

"Forgot, huh?" She smirked, leaning forward slightly, her chin resting on her hand. "I must be pretty distracting, then."

Bucky chuckled, the sound low and warm. "You’ve got no idea, Kitten."

They both laughed softly, the tension in the room dissolving. But Y/N wasn’t ready to let the conversation drop entirely.

"So," she said, her tone gentle but curious, "how did it… happen? I mean, if it’s okay to ask."

Bucky’s smile faded slightly, replaced by a faraway look in his eyes. He hesitated, the fingers of his right hand brushing lightly over the edge of the table. "It’s… complicated. I lost my serving in a war. A mission gone wrong. And then… stuff happened." He wasn’t in any rush to elaborate that it happened to be World War 2…

Y/N nodded slowly, her expression open but careful not to push.

"They gave me this," he continued, gesturing to the arm. "Made me… stronger. More useful to them." The bitterness in his tone was sharp, but he softened it quickly, glancing at her. "But it’s not theirs anymore. It’s mine."

"Damn right it is," she said without missing a beat.

That made him smile again, a real one this time. "You’ve got a way of making things easy, you know that?"

"I like to think so," she said with a wink.

For a moment, they just sat there, a quiet understanding passing between them. Bucky wasn’t used to this—someone seeing all of him, scars and all, and not flinching. But with Y/N, it felt… easy. Natural.

"I think it’s kind of badass, actually," she said, breaking the silence.

His brow arched, a teasing glint in his eye. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," she said, grinning. "Not to mention useful. I mean, I bet you could open a pickle jar like nobody’s business."

He laughed again, shaking his head. "You’re something else, Doll."

"And don’t you forget it," she shot back, her grin widening.

For the first time in a long time, Bucky felt like maybe, just maybe, he could let someone in. And Y/N? She made it feel like the easiest thing in the world.

"You know," she began, her voice playful, "there are definitely some perks to having an arm like that.."

Bucky's eyebrows shot up, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Is that so, doll?"

Y/N felt a flush rise to her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. "Well, yeah," she said, her voice a little softer now. "Last night, when you held me—it was just so… different. And not just because of the arm. You know, it's like… it's not something you expect to feel, someone so strong, so capable of… everything, holding you like that."

Bucky’s gaze grew more focused, his eyes searching hers. He knew what she was referring to, the way his metal fingers had traced over her skin, the way he’d held her so gently it was as if she might shatter. He’d felt it too, the way she’d melded into him, trusting him with every inch of her.

——-smut——-smut———smut——-smut——-smut——-smut———

"What would it feel like?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Inside of me, I mean."

Bucky's eyes darkened, the question hanging heavy in the air. He knew what she was referring to, the curiosity in her voice unmistakable. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "It's… it's not something I would know," he said, his voice thick with restrained emotion. "I’ve never…uh, used it for that before."

Y/N blinked, surprised by his admission. She'd always assumed that with his past, there would have been someone who'd shown interest in the novelty of his enhanced body. "Oh," she said softly, reaching out to cover his hand with hers. "I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable."

Bucky's eyes searched hers, and she saw a flicker of something—desire, maybe, or hope—before he spoke again. "No, you didn’t make me uncomfortable, Doll," he said, his voice low and gruff. "If anything, you made me realize how much I want to find out."

Her heart skipped a beat at his words. "You mean…?"

He nodded slowly, a hint of a blush coloring his cheeks. "I’ve never had the chance to explore that part of myself, not really. Not like this. But with you, it feels right. Like we could figure it out together."

Y/N felt a warmth spread through her, a feeling of acceptance and excitement. "Okay," she whispered, squeezing his hand. "We can take it slow."

Bucky squeezed back, his grip firm but gentle. "I'd like that."

They finished their breakfast in comfortable silence, the air between them charged with possibility. After they cleared the dishes, Bucky offered to help with the chores around the house. Y/N watched him move, the metal arm performing simple tasks with surprising grace. It was fascinating to her, the way it blended so seamlessly into his everyday movements.

As they worked side by side, she found herself watching his reflection in the kitchen window, the way the light played off the arm's surface. She felt a strange thrill, knowing that soon she'd be the one touching it, exploring it. The thought made her pulse quicken, a thrill of anticipation mingling with a gentle warmth that spread through her body.

They moved into the living room, the sun casting patterns on the floor through the half-closed blinds. Bucky paused, setting down the book he’d been dusting, and turned to her. "You know, I’ve been thinking," he said, his voice gruff but steady.

Y/N looked up from the couch cushion she’d been fluffing, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. "What about?"

He took a step closer, his boots soundless on the hardwood. "How about now?" He held out his metal hand to her, the digits flexing slightly. "We can start with this, if you want."

Her heart skipped a beat, but she took his hand, her skin cool against the metal. She felt the faint hum of the machinery within, the pulse of power beneath the surface. It was alien and fascinating, but it was also just Bucky. The man she’d grown to care for, whose past she knew in broad strokes but whose present was painted in vibrant detail by the moments they shared together.

"Okay," she said, her voice shaky. "Show me."

Bucky led her to the couch, sitting down and pulling her into his lap. His flesh-and-blood hand cradled her face, while the metal one rested lightly on her waist. He kissed her, slow and tender, as if reassuring them both that this was just another part of their relationship.

Y/N felt her nerves melt away as she kissed him back, her hand moving to cover the metal on her waist. She slid it up, feeling the contours of his arm, the coldness of the metal against the heat of her skin. Her thumb traced the seam where metal met flesh, and she gasped when she felt his arm tense beneath her touch.

"Does it hurt?" she asked, her voice breathless.

"No," he murmured, his eyes closed. "It feels… good."

Encouraged, she continued her exploration, her hand sliding under his shirt to the bare skin of his shoulder. His breath hitched as she touched the spot where the metal ended and he began again.

"I want to see it," she whispered against his lips.

Bucky pulled away, his eyes searching hers for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, he reached back and tugged his shirt over his head, revealing the full extent of his mechanical arm. It was a work of art, a testament to the twisted science that had made him into a weapon.

Her gaze took in the intricate indentations, the gleaming metal, the stark contrast to his muscled torso. She reached out, her fingertips tracing the lines of his arm, feeling the power that lay dormant within.

"It's beautiful," she said, her voice filled with wonder.

Bucky's eyes searched hers, surprised by her words. "It's not what you'd call conventional beauty," he said, a hint of self-deprecation in his tone.

"It's not the arm that makes it beautiful," Y/N said, her voice earnest. "It's you. It's the strength you carry, the life you've lived, and the fact that you're willing to share that with me."

He swallowed hard, his heart swelling with a mix of emotions—gratitude, hope, and something else, something he hadn't felt in a very long time: a sense of belonging.

He leaned into her, their bodies fitting together perfectly, despite—or perhaps because of—his imperfections. His metal hand found the hem of her shirt, sliding it up gently. The coolness of his touch sent shivers down her spine as he kissed her neck, his teeth grazing her skin just enough to make her gasp.

Y/N’s heart raced as she felt his hand caress her bare shoulder. It was an alien sensation, but it was also James—his touch, his care, his need. She leaned back into him, her eyes fluttering closed as he kissed along her collarbone.

His metal hand was gentle, surprisingly so. It was as if he’d been made to handle the most delicate of things—like her heart. It was a stark contrast to the power she knew he could unleash, and that was what made it all the more intimate.

"You’re sure?" she breathed, her voice a soft whisper.

"More than I’ve ever been about anything," Bucky replied, his voice a gruff rumble against her skin.

With a tremble of excitement, she reached down and took his metal hand in hers, guiding it up to her chest. The coldness of the metal sent a shiver through her, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she held his hand there, pressing it against her, feeling his heartbeat sync with hers.

As they kissed, Bucky’s metal fingers began to explore, tracing the curves of her body with a precision that sent a thrill through her. He was so careful, so deliberate, as if he was learning the map of her by heart. Y/N's breath hitched when his thumb brushed against her nipple through the fabric of her shirt, the coolness of the metal sending a jolt of sensation through her.

With a soft groan, Bucky’s hand grew bolder, his metal digits curling around the softness of her breast. He applied just enough pressure to make her back arch, her head falling forward against his shoulder as she gasped into his mouth. The sensation was unlike anything she’d ever felt—cool and firm, yet tender in a way that seemed almost impossible. Her skin grew hot against the metal, a stark contrast to the chill it emanated, and she could feel the heat of his arousal pressing into her through their clothes.

He broke the kiss, his eyes dark with desire as they searched hers for approval. She nodded, her breath coming in quick, shallow pants, and he took the cue to continue. His thumb flicked over her nipple, sending a wave of pleasure through her that made her tense up. She felt a bead of cold sweat trickle down her spine, the metal now a delightful source of arousal rather than a curiosity.

Bucky's metal hand slid lower, the coolness of it sending a shiver through her as it reached the waistband of her panties. He paused, giving her one last chance to object, but she didn’t. Instead, she leaned into him, her breath hitching as she felt his metal fingers skim the sensitive skin of her stomach.

Her heart pounded in her chest as he hooked his thumb under the elastic, his touch feather-light. The anticipation was agonizing, a delicious torment that had her squirming against him. Then, with a sudden, bold move, he slid his thumb over the fabric softly, catching her clit.

Y/N’s eyes flew open, her gasp echoing in the quiet room. Bucky watched her face, his own expression intense, as he applied gentle, rhythmic pressure, his metal digit moving in perfect harmony with her body's response. She felt a jolt of electricity shoot through her core, her muscles tightening around his touch.

"Is this okay?" he murmured, his voice strained.

Her only answer was a nod, her eyes never leaving his. She was lost in the sensation, the coldness of the metal a shock against her heated flesh. It was as if every nerve ending in her body had been set alight, and she could feel herself growing wetter with every pass of his thumb.

His human hand began to unbutton her shirt, his movements deliberate and precise, as if he was unwrapping a present he’d been longing for. His eyes never left hers, the connection between them a tangible force that made the room feel smaller, more intimate. She shivered as the cool air hit her skin, and his eyes darkened further, a low growl escaping him as he took in the sight of her exposed breasts.

The metal hand slid down further, slipping under the fabric of her panties, and she bit her lip to stifle a moan. He touched her with the same tenderness he’d shown her heart, his fingers exploring the slickness that had gathered between her legs.

"You're so wet," he murmured, his eyes dark with both intrigue and need. Lasts nights adventure was so fast that he hadn’t had time to properly revere her body like this.

Y/N nodded, her eyes fluttering shut as she leaned into his touch. His metal thumb circled her clit, sending sparks of pleasure through her core, while his flesh and bone fingers teased her entrance.

"Look at me," Bucky instructed, his voice thick with desire.

Her eyes snapped open, locking onto his. The intensity of his gaze was like nothing she’d ever experienced—like he was peering into the very depths of her soul. She felt a shiver of vulnerability, but also something else—an empowering thrill at the thought of being the one to stir such raw need within him.

Bucky watched her, his metal thumb slowing its movements as he slid a finger, the one next to it, into her. The coldness of the metal was jolting, but the way he stretched and filled her was everything she’d been craving. She moaned, the sound a soft symphony of pleasure that had him biting his bottom lip to keep from groaning himself.

"Does it feel different?" she asked, her voice breathless.

He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "Yeah," he said, his voice strained. "You’re hot..and tight.."

His metal thumb began to move in a slow, deliberate circle again, while his flesh finger dipped in and out of her, the combination of cold and warm driving her wild. She felt herself getting wetter, her body responding eagerly to his unyielding attention. His eyes never left hers, the connection between them growing stronger with every touch, every shared breath.

The metal digits slid through her slickness, the coldness sending a jolt of sensation that made her toes curl. She felt a strange thrill at the thought of him being fascinated by her body, her reactions. It was as if she’d given him a piece of her that no one else had ever seen.

"It's… incredible," he murmured, watching her face as he played with her arousal. "You’re so responsive."

Y/N could only whimper, her eyes never leaving his.

His fascination was intoxicating, making her feel more alive than she’d ever felt before. With every stroke of his metal thumb, she felt herself getting closer to the edge, her breaths coming in ragged gasps.

He slid another finger into her, the coldness of the metal sending a shiver through her body that had nothing to do with the temperature. Y/N’s hips rolled into his touch, her eyes never leaving his as she watched the raw desire play out across his features. And when he finally slipped his thumb into her mouth, the taste of metal mingling with her own arousal, she knew she was lost.

Bucky groaned as he felt her warmth tighten around his digits, the wetness coating his hand as he worked her closer to climax. His own arousal grew, his human hand clenching the couch cushion beside her, his metal one never still against her skin.

But he didn't want it to end yet.

With a deliberate slowness that was almost cruel, he withdrew his metal thumb from her clit, watching the disappointment flicker in her eyes. "Patience, Doll," he whispered, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine.

He leaned in, his breath hot against her neck as he whispered, "I want to hear it."

Y/N's eyes widened, understanding dawning. He slid his metal fingers into her, deeper but slower this time, and she gripped the couch cushion in response. The coldness of the metal was a stark contrast to the heat of her body, but it was a delicious dissonance that only served to drive her desire higher.

He began to move in earnest, his hand a silent symphony of pleasure.

The sound of his metal fingers sliding in and out of her filled the room, a wet, slick sound that was somehow erotic and intimate. Each stroke was measured, deliberate, as if he was conducting an orchestra of desire.

Y/N’s moans grew louder, her hips moving in time with his hand. She could feel the pressure building, her body coiling tighter and tighter around the cold steel. She’d never been so acutely aware of the sounds her body made during intimacy, but with Bucky’s metal hand inside her, it was all she could focus on.

Bucky watched her face, the way her eyes fluttered closed and her mouth parted on a silent scream. His own arousal grew, his cock straining against his pants. He curled his metal fingers slowly, feeling the way her walls tightened around him. It was a dance, a delicate interplay of sensation that had them both on the edge.

The sensation of his metal digits hitting that spot inside her was like nothing she’d ever felt before—a jolt of cold pleasure that sent her spiraling closer to the brink. Y/N’s nails dug into the fabric of the couch, her hips bucking against his hand.

"James..," she moaned, his name a prayer on her lips. "Don’t stop."

He wouldn’t have for the world. The way she responded to him, the way she trusted him with every part of herself, was a heady feeling. His metal fingers curled slowly, the coldness of the steel a stark contrast to the heat of her core. The way she gasped at the sudden intrusion sent a bolt of electricity through his own body, and he watched with rapt attention as her pupils dilated and her breathing grew more ragged.

He could feel her tightening around him, the way her body was begging for release. He swiped his thumb over her clit again, the slickness of her arousal mixing with the metal. It was a sensation he’d never felt before, but it was one he craved more of—the power to bring her pleasure, to be the one she leaned on, the one who knew her body better than anyone else.

Y/N’s eyes flew open, her pupils blown wide as she stared at him, her breath coming in short gasps. "James," she breathed, his name a plea.

He took that as all the permission he needed. His human hand slid up her body, his thumb brushing over her nipple, teasing it to a peak. He watched the way her eyes rolled back, the way she moaned his name. And with his metal hand, he curled his fingers, hitting that spot inside her that made her entire body shudder.

The sensation was exquisite, a blend of cold steel and warm, yielding flesh that sent her spiraling. It was as if he’d found a secret button that no one else had ever touched, and he was playing it like a maestro. She could feel her orgasm building, a crescendo that seemed to echo in the very air around them.

Her breath grew more ragged, her moans more desperate as he continued his relentless assault. The coldness of the metal was a stark contrast to the heat of her desire, the frigid digits sending waves of pleasure crashing through her body. She felt the first tremors of release begin to build in her belly, tightening her muscles around his hand.

And then, without warning, Bucky’s human hand shot up to wrap around her throat, his thumb pressing gently against the pulse point. It was a move so sudden, so instinctual, that she didn’t have time to react. His metal hand stilled within her, the sudden pressure from his human hand sending a rush of adrenaline through her veins that only heightened the sensation.

Her eyes went wide with shock and pleasure, her breath hitching as he began to apply a gentle squeeze. It wasn’t enough to cut off her air—just enough to make her feel the power in his grasp, the control he had over her body. Y/N’s pulse raced under his thumb, her heart hammering in her chest as she stared up at him.

The look in his eyes was intense, almost feral—a predator claiming his prey. But she didn’t feel afraid; she felt safe. This was James, her James, who’d been nothing but gentle and caring since they’d met. And now, as he held her in this delicate balance between pleasure and pain, she felt a thrill of excitement that was unlike anything she’d ever experienced.

Y/N reached up and grabbed his wrist, not to fight him, but to hold him there.

She wanted this, needed this.

His grip tightened slightly, a question in his gaze, and she nodded, her eyes never leaving his. He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "You’re sure?"

Her only answer was a whimper of pleasure, her body arching into his touch. The pressure was just enough to make her feel deliciously vulnerable, to remind her that she was his, that he was in charge. And with that, she felt the last of her inhibitions melt away.

Bucky’s metal fingers began to move again, his human hand keeping her firmly in place. The rhythm grew faster, the pressure building until she was a quivering mess of nerves and need. She could feel her orgasm approaching, the tight coil in her belly unfurling like a snake ready to strike.

And then, it hit her. Her body convulsed around his hand, her legs trembling as waves of pleasure crashed through her. She threw her head back, her eyes screwed shut, as she moaned his name, the sound echoing through the room. The coldness of the metal against her sensitive skin only heightened the sensation, making her climax more intense than she’d ever felt before.

Bucky watched her, his gaze dark with desire as he felt her body shudder with release. He didn’t stop, though—his human hand kept its firm grip on her neck, his metal hand still moving within her, drawing out every last shiver of pleasure. It was as if he was worshipping her, claiming every inch of her with his touch.

And when she finally went limp against him, her breathing ragged and her heart racing, he pulled away slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. The metal hand retreated, the coldness leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her neck. "You okay?" he murmured, his voice filled with concern.

Y/N nodded, her eyes still closed. "More than okay," she breathed. "That was…" She couldn’t find the words to describe it.

He chuckled softly, his chest rumbling beneath her cheek. "Yeah," he said, his voice low and rough with his own desire. "You’re incredible, Kitten."

They sat there for a moment, the quiet of the room the only sound between them. Y/N felt boneless, her body still humming with pleasure. And she knew, in that moment, that she’d never felt more alive.

"Thank you," she whispered finally.

Bucky’s arms tightened around her. "For what, Doll?"

"For showing me," she said, her voice still shaky. "For letting me in."

He kissed her hair. "You’ve been in, Doll," he said.

They sat there for a while longer, basking in the afterglow of their shared intimacy. It was a moment of pure connection, a bond that went beyond mere words.

——————————————————————————————————

I hope this lived up to the first part, hun! 🫶⭐️

Requests Open!

[bottombaron]

there is no way that Guillermo’s pussy wouldn’t drive Nandor absolutely mad with power

[screampied]

❝ HELL ON HEELS . . ! ❞

ᡴꪫ sum. it's your third day on the job as a flight attendant. you work around a lot of snobby rich elites, but a particular one catches your eye. a particular one who tips you $300 dollars in cash and wants way more than just your uninvited attention.

wc. 6.5k

warnings. fem! reader, sugar daddy!gojo au, this is how gojo and reader meet, mile high club trope, flight attendant reader, age gap (early twenties/early thirties), semi public sēx, praise kink, degradation, dry humping, squırting, spanking, edging.

an. thank u to everyone who voted for this on the poll <3

➤ sd!gojo masterlist

the low-pitched whirring of the plane’s engine was quite loud. white noise could be heard through first class as you walked alongside the aisle. with a heavy sigh, you’d just wish the day would be over. the overall duration of the flight was about a good two hours, not too bad but you were already over it. dealing with haughty a-list celebrities or elites as a whole wasn’t for the weak. a majority of them were rude, snobby, and just stuck up individuals. except for one . .

as thick pieces of rubber stick against your heels and clank against the carbon fibre floor, you sashay through and from the rows before a cheeky voice calls over to you. “excuseee me, miss ‘ttendant,” and you crane your neck to where it was coming from. sat right by the window near the left— draped in nothing but a sable-black tuxedo with a pricey g-shock wrapping around his wrist, he simpers. “do you ahh, mind if you . . ?”

“huh,” you quirk your eyebrows into a brow before he nods his head up toward the cabin compartment above all of the seats. “oh,” you give him a soft smile. he takes a quick glance at your name tag that’s glued on the left side of your blazer. you lean over against him, reaching towards the latch to pull it down. the more you get close to him, the more you smell his cologne. it’s so strong, you were sure it was some kind of expensive designer brand. a small grunt leaves your lips as you stretch before just when you’re about to pry open the cabinet, the plane grumbles with a rude shake. a rude shake in which you fall—right onto the older man’s lap who’s got the smuggest grin.

“we’re experiencing a bit of turbulence up here, sincerest apologizes passengers..”

the pilot mutters through the intercom— it’s blaring through the speakers. he talks for about seven seconds, as well as reminding for everyone to have their seatbelts on at all times before he stops.

as if things couldn’t have been anymore embarrassing, your face lands right into his crotch. “oh my god—i’m so sorry sir,” you try to atone, sitting up and as you’re up so close to him, you take a moment to actually get a good glimpse at the man.

he was pretty, simply no denying it. you knew him from anywhere. gojo satoru, the gojo satoru. the snowy white hair was a dead giveaway.

he was more of a well known business man—a ceo of some hot shot company. he had his own clothing brand, does lots of men photoshoots, and even modeled a bit in his early twenties. although, the more you gawk at him, the more it seems like he barely even aged. gojo looks like he was still in his twenties, he had a bit of a stubble but was quite really well shaved. azul-blue eyes return the stare right back at you as you take in his prepossessing features for just a bit longer.

god, he was handsome.

gojo’s hair was neatly neat, a simple slick back of a sort with a few strands of white hair running down his face. he brings a wrist up to his face to rub his mouth before covertly humming. “. . oh, am i that good lookin’, princess?”

you gulp once he catches you staring, and then it hits you again,

you were still dumbly laid on his lap as he’s gazing into your eyes with the most complacent grin. “i-i’m sorry,” you mumble, cringing at your own stutter. thankfully, it was probably about four am, it was a private jet and only a few other passengers scattered around the sectioned row. sitting up, you rub your neck sheepishly before sighing. “i . . don’t usually fall on passengers during on my shifts.”

“heh well i’d hope not,” he teases. “oh, and don’t worry about getting my luggage by the way,” and his eyes trail you down before he glances at your name tag again. “hm, i think i’d like to request something else though,” and the more you stare into his pretty cerulean eyes, the more you get lost in them.

his eyes were equivalent to a maze, you’re always getting lost in his pretty irises—never finding your way out. “you’re probably all sore from walkin’ around in those heels, how ‘bout you take a little break?”

and he was right. the entire lower parts of your calves were a bit sore, so you do. you take a break . . although,

your 'break' mainly consists of you being hunched over, propped up in front of gojo’s seat with him eating you out from behind like a starved man. your bottom lip feels all numb and puffed from chewing on it for so long. your lips part into an exaggerated ‘o’ as your head’s repeatedly being pressed against the back of the airplane seat in front of you. the softly made material rubs against your face and you moan. some older woman was snoring in the front of it, headphones plugged in both sides of her ears.

thank god, you prayed whatever heavy metal track she was listening to would distract her slumber from hearing your loud, whiny moans.

alas again, by ‘break’, you didn’t expect this but you weren’t exactly complaining either. with gojo’s tongue rummaging against your clit, it had you gasping for desperate various breaths. “s-sirrrr,” you whimper, a lewd smile pursing against your lips. two broad hands of his had your jade-colored business skirt pulled up all the way to the very hem of your torso— just about reaching near your now wrinkled blazer. as you sling an arm over the seat in front of you, you whine once his nose prods against your soddened entrance. “ngh, ‘m gettin’ close again i think. f-fuck, right there.”

“please, call me satoru, baby,” he whispers against your pussy. you shudder from the coldness of his breath aerating against your bare skin—you whine once his palm swats by your right ass cheek, giving it a mean spank. “ooh,” he coos from the recoil of your rear. so pretty, it was quite funny how things even escalated so quickly.

right before he was buried into the depths of your plush thighs, you were just chatting with him. gojo had a charm to him. he was a lot different from the other stuck up elites you occasionally dealt with. he was quite easy to talk to. you make it a habit to talk to each passenger, despite how snobby they might come across anyway.

with him though, he was a pure smooth talker.

gojo showered you with a plethora of compliments. it came natural, it didn’t seem forced—he’d point out your pretty eye color, your hair, just anything. with your job, you were used to getting a few compliments here and there—but he’d go all out, all out in a way where it makes your heart flutter and fly. you’re rutting your ass against his face, loving the way his wet tongue curls into a few alphabetic letters. he’s just filthy. each breath that escapes from your lips as if it was being held captive felt like it was gonna be its last.

“so . . fuckin’ sweet,” he purrs, dragging a thumb down your slit for a moment. gojo takes a second to admire the way you easily soak in his digit, such a breathtaking sight inside. lewd, but breathtaking. “mhm, look at her givin’ me a little show. move your ass against my face a little more, sweetheart. yeah, fuck.”

your heart does jumping jacks at his dialogue. his voice was deep, rich—and seductive.

the silvery band of his watch continues to skim all across your skin as your hips judder. you shiver, feeling yourself about to reach your inevitable orgasmic peak before you moan out loud. you tried to suppress your noises, you did—but it was no use. you’re already biting at your hardened knuckles but oh, his tongue.

every few seconds, he’d break away to spit and slobber on your pussy. his nose consistently smears all against your folds, getting you ten times more wetter than you already were. he’s nasty, making sure you keep that arch for him. your skirt was pulled up and all wrinkled. the teeth-shattering stimulation makes you feel nerves surge all throughout your body like galvanic electricity.

“s- satoruuu.” you’d huff out in tiny pants, feeling your tummy cave in a few times. your sweet moan, its like a tune—a harmony, hell, it was melodic. he’d listen to you whine his name like that all day if he could. a gentle hand of his runs down your twitching leg, giving every part of your body from behind attention.

he was starting to get addicted, you were too sweet . . candied even, it was dangerous. he’s always had a bit of a sweet tooth anyways and perhaps you were his new favorite treat.

the raving pace of his tongue was simply relentless. you’re gripping onto the back of the seat for dear life, barely able to keep up with him.

ethereal ivory lashes of his open and close every millisecond that passes. it’s as if time was going slow for you— of course it was though, considering how you were thousands of feet in the air. you don’t know why, but the thought of someone just walking by and stumbling upon you all bent over for a passenger,

not just a passenger but the gojo satoru . .

you’d be lying a bit if you said it didn’t turn you on a bit. you knew it was against policy to screw on the job, in the air at that, but it was the middle of the night and partly everyone onboard was asleep anyway. having some affluent attractive guy right between your thighs, you were living the dream. you thought this only happened in the movies.

“aw, don’t give up on me just yet, pretty,” he soothes a tune against your cunt. after a while, gojo’s speedy flicking of his tongue transitioning to pure sucks. you’re shaking within the suction of his mouth. it’s almost too much to bare yet you didn’t want him to stop. he knows just the right tempo to make you roll your eyes back too. with prying hands, gojo’s spreading open your ass a bit more to lick a deeper area with his tongue. you zealously whine once he playfully uses a thumb to poke against your puckering hole. “mhm, yeah. thaaaat’s it, but don’t be so loud though, princess. i know we’re in the back row but still, heh.”

and with that— he gifts your ass another smack. he proudly relishes in your lewd, pornographic reactions. you’re an entire mess and he’s slurping your fervor shamelessly.

“s- satoruuuu, fuck f-fuck,” your breathing starts to significantly pick up. with your chest continuing to sink in and out, he briefly sneaks his dampened lips away from your entrance to bite near your thighs. the way you were shaking to him was just so cute. the white noise that continues to sing and reverb throughout the plane’s structure grew louder. or . . that was just the ringing through your ears—regardless, it was between that noise and the sounds of your own obscene pleasure that had a competition. a competition on who could be the most louder. your name-tag that’s still pressed against your blazer remains to rub off against the fabric of the seat in front of you.

your perked nipples snag in the process as you’re arching a bit more before a wail dies out your throat. “i- i’m gonna cu— oh!”

“another few hits of turbulence, folks. please stay in your seatbelts. time of arrival should be around six thirty am..”

you bring a hand over your mouth in a cute attempt to silence yourself as you’re meeting your high—listening to the pilot, you sob out a squeal from the inside of your palm. gojo’s slurping you up again with his tongue, your grinding against his face makes him chuckle. with his jaw tightening a bit, he doesn’t care—you were so sweet, he could eat you out all day. not to mention, he was quite thirsty. instead of having you retrieve one of his bags, he was gonna originally ask for a glass of water. but this quenched his thirst a lot better in his humblest opinion. his warm breath fans against your cunt all the while you feel his stubble tickle near the undersides of your thighs. “mmph.” you moan, peeking in front of you to still see the old lady knocked out cold. with the way you were rocking into the back of her seat— you were surprised she didn’t wake up. you were glad she didn’t though. otherwise, you’d embarrass yourself yet again.

with your orgasm still having its moment, you start to calm down a bit. he’s still slithering his tongue down your folds, savoring your taste as if it’s the last thing on the planet. his chin was coated with all of your slick, and he snickers before dragging a thumb to get another taste. “good girl. give it to me, ride my—ride my tongue, uh huhhh.”

a swarm of butterflies wanders around inside of your tummy from his words—his tone, it was so soft yet the dialogue that spoke out was just downright dirty. you pulse between your thighs and it only makes you crave him more.

as you’re still arched over in front of him, you take a few hard gulps to swallow as you’re finishing your perfect nirvana state. ecstasy, just ecstasy overtakes your entire body as he gives your pussy it’s final sucks and nibbles. once he finishes, he’s still sat in his chair. spinning you around, he gives you a warm smile.

“c’mere, sweetheart..”

out of breath and pants snatching out of your full lungs with ease—you move into him with your eyes half-lidded. “. . . atta girl, taste how sweet you are. gimme a kiss,” and you get on top of him. sliding off your heels, you get onto gojo’s lap. now straddling him, you lean into a steamy, hot kiss. two hefty built arms of his wrap around your waist, pulling you in close. once your lips meet, it’s just utterly sloppy.

throwing your arms around him and tugging on his tucked out collar, you deepen the kiss. he groans at your enthusiasm, allowing his hands to glide against every inch of your body. gojo’s fingertips dance against the pieces of clothing you wore, despite it being so few. your blazer was still on and yet couldn’t help but rock against his lap as your tongue parts inside of his mouth. gojo’s head leans back as you’re enjoying yourself. but all of a sudden, you moan once you feel it. 

his boner, right in the middle part of his pants. gojo satoru was hard—hard for you.

he grunts lowly, a hand of his snaking up your leg as you taste the sweet remnants of your own flavor on his tongue. the closer you are to him, the closer you get a nice everlasting sniff of his cologne. so manly, it’s a rich scent that you could never get enough of. it was so strong—roaming through the air so much that it almost gave you a headache. 

“fuck,” he sibilates. a single hissing word that comes from his mouth makes you throb oh so easily. you’re swaying your hips against him and his adam’s apple bobs back in rapture. every few seconds, he pulls away to leave a wet slope of kisses down your neck. a hand of yours tugs against his tie that was neatly worn on him. “damn girl you’re kinda kinky,” and he finally pulls away, teasingly biting on your bottom lip before finally departing. “i’m startin’ to like you.”

“more,” you murmur, leaning in to nip a wet kiss of your own near the crooked crevices of his mouth. naturally parted lips of his twitch, causing him to wryly smile back at you. “i need more, sir. we have a few more hours left. please.”

“baby, you can call me satoru. cut the formal shit yeah?” and his voice was a pitchy low, an almost rasp hidden underneath. a hand of his gently grabs your chin and you’re met with the most prettiest eyes. if it wasn’t his long lashes, it was his celestially blue eyes. so blue that it was as if you were star gazing at a summer sky. gojo satoru a pretty man, no doubt. he hums to himself in amusement at your cute doe-eyed expression, hungry for more. sitting on his boner was already torture enough, you just wanted him inside. 

sure, you were technically working but you didn’t care about that. “satoruuuu,” he’s being playful, a thumb still pulling down your bottom lip. as you’re both maintaining such intimate eye contact, his voice softens once more. gojo’s hand slides its way between your thighs before he raises a brow in a taunting manner. “what do you want satoru to do to you? tell me, girl.”

“t- touch me.” you almost whine out, it yanks out from your throat so pathetically. the throbbing you were feeling behind your panties only turned into straight convulses. 

playfully, he tilts his head with a smile. “yeah? touch ya where.”

“i gotta spell it out for you?” you pout, and he chuckles at your frustrated attitude. you start to jerk your hips against his lap and he holds your waist in place to bring those movements to a stop. “f-fuck, ‘s hard.”

stroking a thumb against your quivering lips, his minty breath hits against your nose—you smell it and it’s minty fresh. a scent of what seemed to be some kind of tangy beverage and a gum like substance. with a mocking tone, he presses a kiss against your nose before jibing. “i just wanna know where ‘m gonna put my hands on this pretty body. that’s all,” and his voice was so smooth, an almost purr. with a chortle, he moves a few strands of hair out of your view of sight before continuing his words. “now now, i’ll ask again, pretty. where do ya want me to touch you? let’s be descriptive this time.”

“between my t-thighs,” you confess, already soaked from him devouring your pussy just merely seconds ago. the shocking friction between both bodies had you feral, had you dizzy, had you stupid.

gojo gradually brings a hand down before you press a hand against his chest, pouting again. “actually, i want you to fuck me. please, satoru.”

“there we go, good girl. ‘n heh, aw i figured,” he cheeses, licking a single stripe up your neck. “mhm, you’ll have to ride me though. ‘s only so many positions you can do on a plane, heh.”

you barely let him finish your sentence before you start to unbuckle his pants. you’re so quick with it. gojo stares at the way you’re so desperate, taking it off the tiny hooks before yanking his belt all the way off. seconds later, you’re pulling down his pants toward his ankles. “ooh,” his eyes flicker towards your chest as you start to align yourself against his lap. you take a moment to stare at his now exposed cock and it was so pretty. lengthy if anything, a leaky mushroom like tip that was a bit reddened. he was so hard too, just gawking at his heavyset bulge that had you almost drooling. gojo leans back, rubbing against his thigh before flashing you a cheesy smile. “wellllll,” he sings. “don’t be shy girl. get on up here. ride all that stress away from work, pretty thing.”

he was so cocky, yet you were so needy. 

as you’re still aligning him, your damp entrance rubs off against the head of his tip. it’s peeling open a bit, the skin that attaches to the frenulum was just so mesmerizing to look at. it’s got a pinkish color, almost red. shortly following, a mere tannish color flushes on his cock near the base down. you moan once he grabs ahold of his length, helping you adjust. 

“easy . . easy baby, i gotcha,” he sighs, feeling your warmth slowly swallow him whole. those short seconds you spend taking in gojo’s dick feels like long, consecutive hours.

you’re dripping wet. as you straddle his lap, preparing to ride him, he slouches back in such a sexy way. manspread—gojo grunts out a single breath as his chest deflates. shifting his gaze towards your cunt, he spreads open your folds to get a better view. “ughhh, look at how she opens up for me. ‘s fuckin’ nasty,” he groans, staring dead at your cunt. you were indeed coating him with your slick from the base down. “give it to me, upside daisey, yeah.”

you’re taking his inches as the seconds go by before after a while—you plop down, feeling him bottom out already. gojo moans, gifting your ass with another spank. “f-fuck ‘toru,” you hiss, knowing that was a non-verbal sign for you to start up your hips. a cooling air that passes through the plane sets against your skin as you move. you whine, feeling his hands trickle alongside the secretive edges of your thighs. “touch me more, l- like that.”

“i don’t remember saying you could tell me what to do,” he meets your eyes as you start to thrust forward. he’s got the most impish grin stretching against his lips. gojo grips your chin for what was probably the nth time within this hour before he grins. “nuh uh, don’t look away. i wanna see those gorgeous eyes,” and he sneaks another wet kiss against your mouth. “ride it like you own it baby.”

you start off realllll slow, 

sashaying your hips up and down against his lap in the most alluring way. all six eyes were on you and only you..

your arms still wrap around him and he’s keeping eye contact with you the entire time. with your blazer practically ruffled and wrinkled, you continue to move yourself against him. gojo’s cock stretches you out in such a way you didn’t even know was possible. your walls craved him, you craved him.

as he leans further back, a hand’s still glued to your ass before he smacks it . . again.

he pats it afterwards, watching a cute sour expression slowly marinate against your facial features. 

gojo giggles at your cute noises, it doesn’t take long before you bury your face into the crook of his neck, gnawing your teeth against his collared shirt. “f-fuck, satoru,” you’d whine out, feeling his grip tighten against your ass. his cologne’s got your head spinning like a merri-go-round, giving you whiplash in all the right ways. “s-so big, stretchin’ me.”

“takin’ it so good, baby,” he licks against the lobe of your ear.  his breath against your neck was warm—not so cold anymore. two rough hands grasp onto your active hips, encouraging you to go more forward, more faster. “good girl, mhm, fuck me like that. use those hips for me, yeahh.”

his dick curves through every part of your walls as if it’s exploring. you feel him reach deep within every part and it’s driving you toward the first street of crazy.

breathy pants skate out from your lips as you’re swinging yourself back and forth against him. “s-satoru,” you whimper, feeling his hands continue to feel against the bare bottom parts of your ass. you could feel the bands of rings he wore rub off against your skin also, so fridgly cold. “f-fuck, ‘s good. mhm, fuck.”

“you’re so pretty,” he groans, the brief sounds of skin slapping resounding through your ears. it’s loud, almost sonorous.

his hair was getting a bit ruffled and unkempt, adding to his suave, mature features.

as he looks off into the nearly empty dim lit aisle, a silhouette appears—someone’s coming. it’s a familiar sound of heels hitting against the floor and you were too occupied of being horny to turn your head. at first, you barely even notice as you’re still grinding against his lap. “oh shit,” gojo gasps, grabbing the sides of your hips, suddenly bringing you to a stop. with a sly smile, he hums against your ear. “baby, don’t freak but i think your co-worker’s coming.”

“w- what?” you murmur, and he makes you spin around, still having his heavy cock hidden into the swollen depths of your cunt. glancing up, it was one of your co-workers coming. in a weak attempt to fix your nearly messed up blazer that was about to pop, you lean against his chest. “who— where?”

as he’s pressed right up against you, you’re met with a playful deep voice against your ear. “relax. act like you’re totally not cockwarming me, obviously,” and he runs a few fingers down your uniform, feeling you shift your hips a bit at his touch. gojo tries to make it look like you were just sitting on his lap, moving a cover over you and him from the waist down. you feel so full, you were growing more and more needy, a pout comes onto your lips because you didn’t want to stop so abruptly. you just wanted to keep riding him, but of course—you were working. “play it cool, baby.”

“um, is everything okay?” one of your fellow co-worker flight attendants, serena murmurs.

with a furrowing brow, she takes in the sight in front of her. you, happily straddling a passenger's lap whilst you’re heaving as if you’d just finish a 5k race. “we’ve been some getting complaints about noises. also, you need to restock the snacks near back. we’re runnin’ low on peanuts.”

“y-yeah, ‘m fine,” you sheepishly nod, knowing how fishy this entire scene might have looked. gojo’s dick was just idly enshrouded into your cunt, just one move and you’d be fucked. technically, you already were fucked. he’s tracing a finger against your thighs before you exhale. “but uh— can’t you restock?”

“i would but that’s not my job,” she snaps with an eye roll. gojo chortles at your co-worker’s attitude, he presses a single kiss against your neck and you almost moan. her facial expressions twist in disgust before she backs away. “anyways, just go restock,” and as she twists her heels to walk away, she utters under her breath. “weirdos. i don’t get paid enough for this shit.”

gojo lets out a breathy laugh as you finally moan again—it’s taking everything out of you and you start up the jolting of your hips again. “f-fuck, ‘m close, ‘toru,” you whimper, the friction feeling like hot static dragging against your legs. “mhm, ‘s good.”

“you’re even more dirtier than i thought, princess,” he whispers, a hand playfully wrapping around your throat as you’re moving your hips back. “i bet your co-worker put two ‘n two together. you could have been a little more believable.”

you’re moaning, his touch sending you more deadly shivers before you feel a coil within you squeeze shut tight. the beat of your heat grows rapid and your pupils dilate from pure pleasurable lust. you’re getting close again, it’s coming so quick that you barely have any time to breathe.

his aromatic cologne nearly blinds your sinuses before you feel against his neck with your palm. “i . . i don’t care if she knows,” you mumble with a scowl, feeling his base continuously rub against your entrance. you’re coating him with nothing but a pretty viscous sheet of your slick. “fuck, ‘m gonna cum again.”

“yeah? what if i want you to wait?” he purrs, his sloping trail of kisses turning into sucks. you whine, leaning into his touch as he’s stuffing your insides full of thick cock. jello—your legs felt like jello, barely even able to move. the warmth against him had you hungry for more. it was addictive, you didn’t know what it was. you didn’t get like this for any other passenger, yet here you were. your mouth croons open, whining out a single harmony at his pace. he’s still making you grind back against him, the tempo having your head going for a spin every time. “what if i want you to be a good attendant ‘n wait just a bit longer f’me?”

“but—”

“nuh uh,” he snickers, bringing a smack to your ass. “wait for me, pretty. this pussy’s gonna make a mess when i want her to.”

and he creeps a hand down between your jittery legs, rubbing a few circles against your already sopping wet cunt. a gasp wretches from your throat as you’re laid back against his chest. the rugged fabric of his tuxedo top whisks against your skin and you’re babbling out sweet nothings.

“f-fuck, ‘m not gonna last,” you whine, feeling yourself throb at the way his thumb brushes against your throat. he’s feeling the vibrations of your gruttural moans and it’s so cute. by this point, you’d already forgotten you were thirty thousand feet in the air. thirty thousand feet in the air and you were getting your pussy destroyed by one of your passengers. 

not just any passenger though, 

gojo satoru. 

he’s panting right with you as you’re just bouncing on his lap, two soft padded hands gripping against his thighs. as you bite your lip, your ass thrashes back gainst him and he hisses. “just like that, pretty girl. shiiiiit, ‘m gonna cum too.”

with his deep penetrative thrusts, it’s got you going ditzy. as he starts to spank against your puffy cunt, he nibbles against your collarbone. “you wanna cum with me, yeah? ‘s that why you keep dragging y’r nails into my leg?”

“s—sir,” you desperately spat, but he spanks your cunt again so you could switch your words around. “ngh, i mean satoru. wanna cum with you, pleaseplease. ‘s good, want it, finish in me.”

“my, well when ya ask like that,” he hums, and you feel the sharpness of his hips pivot. gojo groans, standing up before he lies you back against the now reclined seat. “lie back, baby. actually, changed my mind. i wanna push those pretty knees up to your chest.” 

panting, you lie back against the now lounged seat. gojo flashes you that same sly grin before he lifts up your leg—bringing a sweet kiss toward your ankle. “you can lose your license over this, you know? dirty girl, lettin’ your pussy think for ya instead of that brain, huh?”

“don’t care,” you moan, watching him quickly align his cock against your slit. gojo grunts, feeling you easily swallow his tip up again. your cunt was clingy, he was very much addicted to your slippery sloppy core. with his pants halfway on and hanging down to his ankles, he starts up a rapid pace again. “uh, uh,” you whimper again and again, your thighs instinctively wrapping around his waist. you’re keeping him warm from the inside, raw moans pulling out of your esophagus like it was nothing. “right there, ‘m gonna cum, please. s-sir, fuck me.”

“satoru,” he corrects you, a hand gripping your chin. pretty blue eyes leer down at you and he’s so close to you. as he’s jackhammering his cock into your sobbing swollen walls—eyes of your own goggle into gojo’s as he’s fucking you silly. you probably look a mess from this view, the heel of your foot grazing down his strong back muscles. gojo hears the sloshing squelches your own pussy makes and you feel the sudden throb arise from his dick. he twitches inside you and it makes his head throw back. after he gains composure again, he exhales deeply, tapping a thumb against your sealed lips.“you don’t gotta be formal when ‘m inside, princess,” and he squeezes your lips together, licking near the bottom. “open.”

you’re whining, his tempo growing quicker and you’re so close. crimson-carmine lips of his twitch into a feral smile once he sees you being so easy to comply. with your lips parting open, you tilt your head back before he spits into your mouth.

“theeeere’s your tip,” he teases, pursing your lips together with two fingers as you swallow. your cunt still gripping against him as he then pulls you into a deep kiss. with your legs clutching around his waist. “uh, manners baby. where’s my thank you?”

“t- thank you, ‘toru.” you breathe, feeling your cunt throb even quicker.

“oh, you’re welcome,” he smiles and he can’t help but giving you another kiss on the mouth shortly afterwards. the lustful stare he’s giving you could almost be described as lecherous has you more sopping wet by the second. with your legs tightly and securely keeping him from breaking away, he groans. right into your mouth, his tongue collides against yours before he sucks on it. as he brings you into a loving kiss again, gojo’s girth has you feeling a sudden arch in your back arise the moment you sit up. you’re being fucking into the reclined seat, his weight almost crushing against but it feels so good. “mhmmm, ‘m gonna cum. gonna spill so much inside of you, pretty.”

“don’t waste any,” you whimper, wrapping your arms around him. you didn’t even care how unprofessional this was. in the back of your mind, you’re thinking to yourself— if someone walked in again, who cares? not you. “please.”

“well aren’t you a doll,” gojo murmurs in a cooing tone, shoving your knees all the way up near your chest. you’re preparing yourself as you’re about to reach your final pleasurable demise. it feels almost tickling, the fat tip of his cock repeatedly kisses against that same spot within you. you’re whines sound almost melodic, not even caring if your pilot a few seats back heard. “look at me.” he taps your bottom shaking lip, leaning in to plant another kiss on your lips. one turns into two, then three, then four . .

and then— his phone rings.

you’re still a moaning mess, feeling your legs just about give out as he’s pressing such amounts of weight on top of you. gojo’s hands fondle with your neglected breasts that laid underneath your blazer. he groans, reaching for his phone near the counter of the seat. with a grunt, he answers. “tch. satoru gojo.”

still snugly shoved deep inside, he’s multitasking. one hand holds onto the left side of your waist, another holding his phone up against his cheek. he’s drilling into you so mercilessly as if his occupation was a construction worker. you whine, the scratching itch never leaving you. once it comes, it comes. “suguru, ‘m kinda busy. can this wai— oh f…fuck.”

in an abrupt gasp, he ends up finishing first. it’s so much. thick gooey spurts pour into your cunt, filling up the insides of your goopy womb. gojo’s peering down at you and his lip quivers. he finished a bit early. too quick, his hand shakes as he holds up his phone before you squeeze your legs against his torso even tighter. for a moment, he almost whines himself. the strong gripping grip your pussy has against makes him swear underneath his breath.

“huh? yeah, ‘m good,” he sexily whews, slowing his rhythm down a bit.

a hand of his snaps, making you look down between your legs.

he gives you a teasing grin and you spread your folds open. it was so much, so much velvety ropes of hot cum that ooze in and out of your sloppy folds. you’ve never felt more warm from the inside. it was a feeling that had your mouth watering, salivating with your sweet, syrupy saliva. your legs were practically mush, and once you finish, you end up gushing all out at once. it takes you by surprise more than anything. the feeling comes like a crashing, unpredictable wave, a fading fade then departures from your body. minutes eventually pass and gojo’s still yapping away on the phone—yet after a while, he decides to wrap it up and groan. “yeah yeah okay, man. i gotta go now. unless you wanna listen to how i sound post-orgasm, heh.”

“what—?”

with a quick bleep, gojo hangs up. tossing his phone aside, he looks down at you—cutely sprawled out whilst chills run down your body. he can almost see you palpitating from said chills. leaning up close to you, still balls deep, he pants heavily. gojo pressed a kiss against your right temple before teasing. “heyyy, did you just squirt on me?” he asks, and he speaks in a sly soft tone.

you don’t reply and he gives you a priggish smile. “you didddd. so nasty, i should make ya lick it off me.”

you did end up squirting. it was so much. so so much.

you’re still having your legs wrap around his waist before you grab onto his wide, stiff shoulders. “s-satoru,” you moan into his neck, getting yet another balmy whiff of his manly musk. “f-fuuuck, more.”

right before he could reply though— the intercom of the plane comes on and it’s the pilot.

“ladies and gentleman, we’ve made it to our destination. local time and time of arrival is six thirty-three am. for your own safety and others around you, please remain seated and keep the aisles cleared until i announce we’re at the airport gates. thank you.”

“aw, boo,” gojo laments, slowly pulling out of your pussy. a pout unfurls against your glossed lips as you feel suddenly empty. no more thick inches inside. the only thing you felt were the leftover masses of his cum spewing out of you. the seats were a mess, he brings a hand down to strum a few fingers against your entrance and you whine. so soaked, he gifts you with a kiss on your forehead before exhaling. “well, think it’s ‘bout time we part ways, gorgeous.”

gojo helps put back on your skirt and panties and you‘re just laid back with a cute scowl as he assists you off your feet. “i . . can’t walk like this,” and he chuckles at how stiff you were— a few droplets of his cum race down your thighs and you almost moan again. you’re still sensitive, throbbing near every inch of your body before he stands up. he’s so lean and tall. as gojo towers over you, you glance up at him and you’re met with that annoying flirtatious smirk he gave you when his eyes first laid on you. “my panties are practically ripped.”

he turns around to grab his suitcases above him from the cabinet and sighs.

zipping up his exposed fly, gojo leans in to kiss your forehead. “ah, well i can always buy you some more,” and then he pauses. “actually,” he grabs his wallet and your eyes widen once he gives you three hundred dollar bills. “i can buy you more than just panties if ya want, sweet thing,” he slides the bills in between your bra before pressing a kiss against your neck. “you’ve been such a good girl,” and he then hands you his business card. it displays his name and a cheesy saying near the front, all his information in bold blue letters too. before walking away with your bawled up underwear, he leans up to your ear for a final time and whispers, “remember though, it’s satoru gojo, baby. ah, and these panties—i’ll be keeping these as a souvenir.”

[thebestandworstdayofjune]

i'm down on my knees, i wanna take you there

summary: you are suiting up for your first mission, the only problem being everyone "forgot" (intentionally withheld) this information from Logan wc: 2.3k a/n: thank you thank you so much for all of your support about my other Logan fic!! I am really enjoying writing for him, and have a few ideas for this Logan as well as some for Worst!Wolverine aka Deadpool 3!Logan as well! More info about empath!reader's powers and her role at the school in this one <3 warnings: slight (incredibly) slight angst, protective!Logan, a bit of a hurt comfort vibe, Ororo, Scott and Jean are meddlers this is the previous fic with these two, not required reading at all, though!

The leather was cool and surprisingly soft against your skin. There had never been reason for you to have to accompany a mission requiring one of the suits before, and you were shocked at how comfortable the uniform was. Typically, when you were asked to help with a mission, you were there for intel. Scope the place out, get a read on the general vibe of the place. Your powers didn’t provide the same level of protection as laser eyes or a strong regenerative healing factor. You would typically arrive with Rogue, in clothes from your own closet and one of the least fancy cars from the garage. You would slip in, get your read, and get out. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to help, you just lacked the training that the other members of the team had. And after all, someone had to stay back to mind things at the school. When Charles had approached you a few months ago about some possible applications for your mutation that would come in handy on missions, you’d been hesitant. It was so outside of your comfort zone to load yourself onto a jet that you’d never even considered the possibility. You were far more comfortable in the library where you held English classes for the students, or helping Charles keep students calm while exploring their powers. Neither scenario included the possibility of a lot of violence. 

Ororo helped you finish zipping yourself into the suit, smoothing her hands along the sleeves before giving you a final nod of approval. Jean and Scott granted you small smiles and you did your best to look as confident as you knew they felt. 

They’d promised it was a simple mission, the kind they usually took students on when Charles felt they were ready to join the team, if that’s what they decided to do after wrapping up their schooling. Charles had heard word of a young mutant who had some kind of telekinetic powers and had recently had an eruption while at school. Everyone agreed that it would be best to find them and convince them to return to the school for some training with as little force as possible, only expedited by the fact that Charles had found them hungry and afraid after running away from home using Cerebro. In the past, the kids had been resistant due to huge amounts of fear, causing them to lash out. You knew they were right that your powers would be useful at times like these, and if you were able to help in any way you were inclined to. 

“The fuck do you think you’re doing to her?” You sighed. It wasn’t that you were all conspiring to keep this a secret from Logan. It wasn’t a discussion that you’d had to agree on group espionage. It just seemed that all of you had a sort of understanding that it might be better to ask forgiveness rather than permission. Not that you needed permission. 

Logan looked furious, and what’s worse, he felt furious. You and Charles had been working to extend your powers over further distances, no longer needing to touch someone directly to know how they feel. Though it certainly doesn’t hurt matters. You’d sensed him upstairs, seemingly pacing around and seething. You’d hoped one of the kids had gotten on his nerves, or something on tv had set him off. You could see that was foolish now. 

“We aren’t doing anything to her,” Scott had his visor on, blocking his eyes from view, but you didn’t need to see to know that he was rolling his eyes. “She’s chosen to accompany us on a mission.” 

“A small mission!” Ororo chimed in, doing her best to give Logan a reassuring smile. 

You checked back in with his aura. Still furious. But it was a nice try, you supposed. Logan’s hackles were raised, his chest heaving. This certainly wouldn’t do. “Can I have a moment with you,” you glanced around the room, briefly meeting the other three mutant’s eyes. “Alone?” 

Logan was still staring daggers at Scott. He wasn’t even the one who suggested you were ready to come along. Jean and Charles had approached you this morning. You laid a hand against his arm, hoping to lead him out of the room, but he flinched away. The pang in your heart was immediate. Did he really think you were so callous that you would ever use your powers without his express permission, or some kind of emergency. You could feel the tears starting to gather in the corner of your eye, your arms wrapping protectively around your midsection. 

Jean slipped one arm through Scott’s and took Ororo’s hand with her other, gently leading them out of the room. “We are going to check a few things with the jet, last minute.” She began to hustle them out of the room. “Call if you need anything!” 

The door shut firmly behind them, and you were left alone with Logan, who looked like he was going to start shaking. “I wasn’t going to-”

“You don’t think I know that?” You can’t help but recoil. You have never been afraid of Logan, even when it may have been in your best judgement to be wary, and you still aren’t. But you can’t deny that it hurts when he snaps at you. Especially when you thought, well. You thought you were growing close. You started to turn away, but before you could, a warm hand caught ahold of your arm. “I’m not… fuck.” He took a heaving breath, shaking his head as if he could clear whatever thoughts were bothering him. “I’m not mad.” 

Despite the serious energy of the conversation, you couldn’t help the incredulous look you shot his way. He tried his best to hide it, but you could see the corner of his mouth turning up at you. “Fine, I’m not mad at you.” 

“You know, you really can’t be mad at anyone, they were just doing-” you were cut off when you fell Logan’s hand traveling down your arm, and pushing your sleeve up gently from where it was covering your hand. He slipped his hand into yours and you felt yourself relax a bit. “Just, take a look, yeah?” 

“Are you sure you want me to?”

“I trust you, bub.” You searched his eyes for any sign of hesitancy, but all you found was trust. Complete and utter trust. You nodded, tightening your own grip on his hand. Doing your best not to let the gentle rub of his thumb against your knuckles distract you, you took a deep breath and opened yourself up to his feelings. 

At first you did feel anger, bright red and hot. You sifted past it, steeling yourself. The first time you had encountered such strong anger, you had felt as if you were going to collapse. But you were stronger now, more prepared to deal with these kinds of feelings. The anger was strong, but also surprisingly shallow. In the depths of his emotions, Logan was worried. Terrified. A deep dark purple that made your own hands shake. His grip on your hand tightened, effectively drawing you back to yourself. There was more, a soft inviting pink that you didn’t dare to touch and shiny bright gold, which told you he was proud. 

You opened your eyes, fighting back the heat you felt creeping onto your cheeks. His expression hadn’t changed, pure trust and tenderness. It should have been disarming, or at the very least surprising. Logan wasn’t so open and honest with people. But the two of you had always had different expectations for the other. 

You couldn’t help it, a smile crept over your features. “You’re proud of me?” 

He rolled his eyes, but his smile only grew. He took your free hand in his, pulling you in closer. “I’m always proud of you.” He hesitated for a brief moment, and you did your best to bite your tongue. You could tell Logan had been making an effort to open up lately, and not just to you, but that didn’t make prolonged silences and easier to bear. “I know it’s not my place to demand anything of you.” 

“You’re my… friend.” You cut him off, wincing at the pause. It didn’t feel like the time to pressure him into labeling whatever feelings may be floating around. “And I always want to hear my friend’s opinions. What’s bothering you so badly?” 

“I could hear your heartbeat from upstairs.” Your eyes grew wide, too shocked to try to school your expression. Logan had told you several times that he had learned to block out his enhanced hearing when he was quite young. Usually to tease you when you got on a long tangent about something you enjoyed. He pretended to zone out and ignore you, but he would always remember small details about your rants, bringing them up nonchalantly at a later date  “I, uh, keep an ear out sometimes. Helps with the worry.” 

He worries about you? Even more surprising, he’s listening to your heartbeat like background music to his day. You promise yourself you will ask him about it when you don’t have a room full of your friends waiting on you. “I thought we’d covered this. I can take care of myself.” 

He sighed, bringing a hand to rest gently where your jaw meets your neck. “Sweetheart, I know you can. But that doesn’t stop me from watching out for you.” 

Your hand moved to rest overtop of his. “The good news is that I will have lots of people watching out for me. You know they won’t let anything happen.” You receive a single huff in return. He’s not convinced. “You know that these are the kinds of missions we send the kids on. I’ll be fine.” 

He considers for a moment, before dropping his hand and nodding. “Give me a second to get changed, and we will head out.” 

You grabbed for his hand, but he was already out the door, and moving too fast for you to stop. “Logan, don’t be ridiculous.” 

“What’s ridiculous is you thinking that I would ever let you go out there alone.” 

“As we already established, I have three very capable friends coming with me. I am only going as a contingency plan.”

“Well then consider me the contingency to the contingency plan.” You huffed, following him next door. 

You darted around in front of Logan, pushing against his chest with all your strength, even if you were fully aware that it was the equivalent of a fly buzzing around him. He stopped all the same, eyebrows pulled together in frustration. “I know you’re worried and I know that this is you trying to help.” Logan had his I’m about to interrupt you look on his face, leaving you to shove him again. Thankfully, he understood your intention. “This is important to me. You can’t be there every time, and I have to stand on my own two feet. I want to contribute to the work we do here more than just teaching kids about how awesome Shakespeare is.” The look was back. “Which is still an important contribution.” You added, which seemed to appease him. “But, I don’t want it to be my only contribution. So I am going to go and make sure that this scared kid who is all alone out there makes it back here safe. And you are going to stay here and make sure that everyone gets dinner and help with their assignments. And then when I get back, we are going to have a talk about all this.” 

“All this?” A smile crept back onto your face, hearing the teasing tone in his voice. 

“Oh my god shut up!” He caught your hands before they made contact with his chest, but he was slow to let go this time. He brought the back of both of your hands to his mouth, dropping a small kiss on each one, before returning your hands to your side. 

“If you come back with so much as a bump to the head, Scott’s dead.” 

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, and pointing out that this was exactly what you were talking about earlier did little to sway him. So you gave in, agreeing to give him a full report before slipping your hand into his and tugging him towards the jet. 

“We’ll be back in a bit.” You promised. You could feel the others staring from just inside the jet, but you barely noticed. Logan was checking over your suit meticulously, tugging zippers a few more clicks up and making sure that the collar wasn’t too tight around your neck. He kneeled down, checking to make sure the laces on your boots were double knotted. “Logan,” you laughed, reaching down to tilt his head up to look at you. “I’m too seconds away from sending a lot of exhaustion your way and leaving you passed out in here. You have to let me go, it’s going to be fine.” 

He remained kneeling for a second too long, a look in his eyes you couldn’t entirely place. The sound of the jet powering on broke the both of you out of your trance. He was on his feet in a flash, checking over you one final time. You rose up on your tippy toes, balancing by resting your hands on his shoulders, before gently kissing him on the cheek. You pulled back, nose scrunched up from the tickle of his facial hair. “We’ll be back in a few hours. Hold down the fort for us, yeah?” 

He nodded, pupils slightly blown out and a dreamy look on his face. You giggled, walking backwards for as long as you can before turning around and finding a seat on the jet. You could feel Jean and Scott’s eyes on you as Ororo began maneuvering the jet out of the garage. “Don’t even start.” You muttered, settling firmly into your seat, doing your best to soak up the pride and confidence the others were projecting into the cockpit. 

as always, feedback is so appreciated! if you have any requests for these two/wolverine in general, please leave them here!

next part

[solxamber]

Holding Them and Not Letting Go with: Housewardens + Jamil

a little something before i go all in for the milestone events <3

Other parts: Vice Housewardens + Rollo, Neige ; First Years

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle goes bright red the second you wrap your arms around him, stiffening in your hold like he’s forgotten how to breathe. He tries to splutter something coherent—maybe a reminder about PDA rules, maybe a request to know what’s going on—but his voice gets tangled up, and all that comes out is a confused murmur.

You don’t let go, though. Instead, you squeeze him a little tighter, prompting him to look down at you, his eyes widening with soft confusion. “Is… Is something wrong?” he stammers, gently pressing his hand to your shoulder, trying to read your face.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you answer with a warm smile. “I just love you, Riddle. That’s all.”

For a moment, he’s frozen. Just love him? He feels his heart stumble, so unfamiliar with this kind of simple, generous affection. In his childhood, hugs were formal gestures, love was measured and conditional—a reward to be earned, rarely felt freely. But here, with you… you’re holding him because you want to, with nothing expected in return.

Slowly, Riddle’s hands find their way to your back, and he pulls you close with a tenderness that surprises even him. There’s a quiet ache in his chest, an overwhelming mix of joy and disbelief, like he’s filling up with something he never knew he was missing. He clings to you, unable to speak, as though afraid that words might shatter the beautiful warmth settling between you.

You both stay like this, tangled together in silence. In this simple embrace, Riddle feels more seen, more loved, than he ever has before. It’s a feeling he wants to hold onto forever—a happiness he never thought he’d be allowed to have. For the first time, he feels completely at peace.

Leona Kingscholar

You wrap your arms around Leona, your grip firm as if you’ve decided you’re never letting go. At first, he’s as stoic as ever, arching an eyebrow in mild confusion. “Oi, herbivore…what’s this all about?” he mutters, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

But when you stay silent, he lets out a chuckle, amused by your stubborn clinginess. “If you’re hoping to trap me, you might wanna try harder than that.”

After a few more moments, his teasing fades. You’re still holding him, your head resting against his chest, heartbeat steady against his. He tries to check if youre upset and realizes then that you’re not sad, nor do you seem upset; you’re simply content. When he starts to pull back to look at you, you give him a warm smile and quietly say, “I just…love you.”

The words wash over him, soft and simple yet deeply affecting. His expression shifts, from nonchalance to something much more vulnerable. To Leona, who’s spent much of his life overshadowed, unwanted, and fighting for recognition, the idea of being someone’s first choice feels like an impossibility.

And yet, here you are, holding onto him like he’s the only thing that matters. He swallows hard, not saying anything, but the look in his eyes says it all.

He finally allows his arms to come around you, drawing you in with more intensity than he’d probably ever admit aloud. His tail snakes around your waist in a protective loop, pulling you even closer, as if anchoring himself to you. “Don’t go getting mushy on me,” he mutters, trying to sound unaffected, but his grip tightens just a bit more.

But despite his usual attitude, he’s never felt this…full. Full of pride, full of warmth, full of something he’s struggled to admit he even wanted. And it’s all because of you, the one person who looked past his rough edges and stubborn exterior.

He chuckles softly, burying his face in your shoulder, whispering, “Guess you got yourself a lion for life, herbivore.”

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul is hunched over his desk, papers and ledgers strewn around him, eyebrows furrowed as he works late into the night. He’s so engrossed that he doesn’t even notice you approaching until you gently climb onto his lap, resting yourself against him without a word. His body goes rigid in surprise, the usual control he wields over his composure completely shattered.

“Are you... feeling alright?” he asks, voice a little breathless, struggling to keep himself calm as you press your face into the crook of his neck. “Are you sick? Is there something wrong?”

You just shake your head, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “I just love you, Azul,” you whisper softly, a warmth in your gaze that sends his heart into overdrive. “And I’m so proud of you.”

With that, you wrap your arms around him again, holding him close, and suddenly, all the strength in him unravels. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed this—how much he craved reassurance, wanted to know he was worth it.

All his insecurities, fears, and memories of feeling out of place resurface, but they’re softened by your presence, and with just one hug, you’re able to ease away all that self-doubt he keeps buried.

Without another word, he wraps his arms tightly around you, his grip firm and filled with an unspoken desperation. He clings to you as though you’re his lifeline, as though you’re the single steady point in his otherwise frantic world, and for a few moments, he allows himself to just feel—to let go of the worries, to set aside the constant weight of expectations.

The mountain of paperwork on his desk feels meaningless compared to the comfort you bring, and all he wants is to stay like this, holding you as closely as he can, reveling in the feeling of being loved for who he is.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim is in his element, animatedly discussing ideas for his next big celebration. His hands gesture widely, his voice bright, detailing elaborate plans for decorations, food, entertainment—he's clearly in his happy place, and you can’t help but feel utterly captivated by his joy.

Without even thinking, you throw your arms around him, hugging him tightly mid-sentence. Kalim laughs, hugging you back with his usual enthusiasm, though a bit of surprise colors his expression when you show no signs of letting go. “Hey, is everything okay?” he asks, a smile in his voice.

You lean back just enough to grin up at him, eyes shining. “I’m perfectly okay. You just looked so radiant talking about the party—and I love you.”

He stares at you for a beat, completely dazzled, and then his face breaks into the brightest smile as he spins you around, laughter bubbling from both of you. When he finally sets you down, he pulls you close, cradling you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

“I’m so glad you chose me,” he murmurs softly, his forehead pressing against yours. The simple joy radiates from him, a warmth and gentleness that wraps around you both. It’s a pure, unfiltered happiness that you feel too, knowing that you chose him, and he chose you.

You stay wrapped up in each other, reveling in that perfect moment, glowing with the warmth of shared love. For now, with his laughter filling the room and his arms securely around you, nothing else matters.

Jamil Viper

Jamil walks into his room, the exhaustion from managing Scarabia weighing heavily on his shoulders. But before he can even remove his shoes, you’re already there, waiting for him. Without a word, you step into his space, your arms winding around him in a gentle but firm embrace.

His body relaxes instantly, the stress of the day melting away as you run a soothing hand down his back. The warmth of your touch settles over him like a blanket, but after a few moments, he notices you haven’t let go. The silence stretches, and his concern grows.

He pulls back just slightly, searching your face with quiet intensity. “Are you okay?” His voice is soft, careful, as though bracing for something serious.

You meet his eyes with a smile, your voice tender but full of affection. “I’m fine. I just… I love you. I’m proud of everything you do. You work so hard, and I see all of it. I just wanted to be here, with you.”

A deep warmth spreads through Jamil at your words, the weight of the day almost forgotten as he pulls you back into him. This time, his hold is even tighter, more possessive, as if he’s afraid that if he lets go, this moment will vanish. His face buries itself into your neck, and he inhales deeply, breathing in the scent of you—your presence, your comfort.

For once, he allows himself to fully sink into the embrace, no longer needing to wear his usual mask.

With you, he doesn’t have to hold back his feelings. For the first time in what feels like forever, he lets his guard drop, the emotional wall he’s spent building his whole life crumbling in the warmth of your arms.

“I could stay like this forever,” he whispers, the words barely audible as he holds you close. His voice is thick with emotion, a mixture of tenderness and longing. “I never want to leave your side.”

In the comfort of your touch, Jamil realizes something. He’s never felt more at peace, more cared for, than he does in this moment. He holds you tighter, savoring the feeling of being loved so deeply, so completely. No matter what happens, he knows this is where he belongs—in your arms, and with your heart.

Vil Schoenheit

It’s been a long day, and by the time you reach Vil, all you want is to collapse into his arms. But before you can even speak, he’s already analyzing you, frowning at your slumped posture, the bags under your eyes, and the way you haven’t had time to take care of yourself. "Did you eat today? Are you even sleeping? Honestly, I can't—"

And before he can finish his lecture, you launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck.

He catches you with his usual elegance, barely flinching. His lips curl in that slight, amused way, but the concern in his eyes softens as you cling to him, not letting go.

"Darling, What's wrong?" he asks, his voice taking on a gentler tone as he instinctively pulls you closer. You can feel the smoothness of his coat beneath your fingers as you bury your face in his chest.

"I missed you," you murmur. "I'm just happy to see you. I love you. And I love that you worry about me."

Vil’s chest tightens at your words, a soft, almost imperceptible sigh escaping him. He gently strokes your back, the movement slow, deliberate. “You’re something else,” he teases, his lips twitching, but there’s warmth in his voice. “You know you should’ve eaten something, and yet here you are, throwing yourself at me.”

His hands remain on you, though, pulling you closer, stroking your back with a tenderness he rarely shows in public. He may pretend to be exasperated, but the way his fingers gently brush the length of your spine betrays his true feelings. Deep down, he’s touched by how much you put up with him.

"You should be scolded for your own good," he starts, but it’s a half-hearted attempt. There’s no real bite to his words this time. Instead, he just holds you tighter, deciding that, just for tonight, you don’t need any more lectures.

“You’ll never be rid of me now,” he murmurs softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “And you’re welcome to lean on me, always.”

In the comfort of his embrace, you let go of the day’s stress, finding peace in the warmth of his arms. There’s no need for anything else, just this moment, just him.

Idia Shroud

Idia’s explaining the intricate details of a new strategy, his eyes wide with excitement. But then, suddenly, you set your controller down and throw yourself at him in an unexpected hug, effectively cutting off his speech. His hair flares a brilliant shade of pink as his brain momentarily glitches, clearly unsure of how to process what's happening.

And he is in full panic mode. His mind, always working a mile a minute, goes into overdrive trying to figure out what he did wrong, or if he's somehow messed things up.

“Uh—are you okay?” he stammers, voice filled with concern but entirely thrown off by the situation. You don’t answer with words, just a soft smile as you bury your face in his chest.

“I love you,” you whisper, “and you’re adorable.”

He’s used to being alone, to being misunderstood, to retreating into his games and hiding from the world. But here you are, in his arms, embracing him for no reason other than that you love him.

Despite his anxious thoughts swirling, he awkwardly places his arms around you, his body stiff at first, unsure of what to do. It takes him a moment before he relaxes, and as he holds you, his mind starts to clear. All those fears—of not being enough, or of being too much—slowly fade away, replaced by something that feels warm and real.

You, who listen to him ramble about things no one else would care about. You, who understand when he’s not up for going out, who accept him as he is. He feels so undeserving of someone so kind, but at the same time, something deep inside him stirs. It’s happiness. It’s love.

His arms tighten around you as he buries his face into your hair, his heart racing with a mixture of overwhelming joy and disbelief. He’ll never understand why someone like you would choose him, but as long as you’re here, he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus stands before you, holding the gargoyle he crafted with such care, the stone masterpiece shimmering in the soft light. "This is for you," he says softly, his voice full of pride. His eyes shine with the unspoken hope that you’ll appreciate the effort.

Before he can say anything else, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a warm embrace. He freezes for a moment, unsure, before his own arms encircle you with surprising gentleness. He’s always craved touch, but the depth of affection you offer fills him with awe.

The two of you stand there, the moment stretching on in comfortable silence, until Malleus pulls back slightly, his eyes searching your face. "Are you alright?" His voice holds a hint of concern.

You smile at him softly, your words simple but filled with a warmth he rarely hears: "You mean the world to me. I love you."

Malleus's breath catches in his throat, and before he can think, his arms tighten around you. He pulls you impossibly closer, as if afraid you’ll slip away. His heart races as he feels the weight of your love, the pure acceptance and tenderness you give him. The loneliness he’s lived with for so long, the misunderstandings, the isolation—none of it matters now.

He’s here with you. You see him, not as a prince or a fae of great power, but simply as Malleus. And that, more than anything, fills him with a kind of peace he’s never known.

Malleus buries his face in the crook of your neck, holding you tightly as if to make sure this moment doesn’t slip away. "I will never forget this," he murmurs softly. "I will cherish you... forever."

In your embrace, he finds something he thought was impossible—a sense of belonging. He smiles, feeling the warmth of your love seep into him, and he knows he is truly loved.

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