#yes i wrote this in one day and did nothing else

[remyfire]

For the kinkfic thing. power imbalance and breeding for uh. Charbeej plz. :-D

(prompts now closed) (Okay so this is a lot of breeding kink, a little power imbalance, and though it is charbeej on the page, both beejhawk and charbeejhawk wiggled their way into it, and I really hope that's okay!! It's also 6.4k I'm very sorry—)

"Aaaaaaall right, Winchester," BJ trills as he sweeps into the Swamp and sets the lock behind him. Now that necessary arrangements have been made for privacy, he's got a certain spring in his step, a song in both his heart and his dick. "Here we go. You ready?"

Charles looks up suspiciously from his desk where he's cross-referencing something in a book to the notes he's taking. "I haven't the faintest idea what you mean."

BJ drops the tent flaps in one quick rush, then strides over to slap his hands on Charles's shoulders. "That's never stopped you from offering your opinion before, so why start now?" When Charles tries to look back at his work, BJ cradles his cheek and steers him right back around. "You can do that later."

"For heaven's sake." Along with a particularly overexaggerated roll of his eyes, Charles's lips rise up in a snarl that does nothing more than bring tingles of anticipation down BJ's spine. "Hunnicutt, are you sure you haven't taken a tumble recently? Banged your forehead on something? It's quite a large target." He makes a show of shrewdly considering it, all the while ignoring how BJ's beginning to smirk. "Can't imagine any other reason why you appear to be mistaking me with Pierce."

"I'm not making a mistake," BJ murmurs in a low, sweetly rotten tone.

"He's the one you, ah, sully around with, you know." Charles goes on as though he didn't hear BJ say a word. "Little whimsical pet practically slobbering for the chance to do your bidding."

As BJ tightens his grip around Charles's soft jaw until he feels the bones stabbing into his fingertips, Charles finally goes silent and flicks his gaze back up. "Charles," BJ breathes. "Put your pen down. And take your pants off."

Clack. The pen's rolling across the desk before BJ even realizes that Charles opened his hand. They share a long, silent stare where he gets to watch how Charles's brow furrows, the quick analyses occurring behind his eyes.

Honestly, BJ gets it. He wasn't wrong, bringing up Hawkeye like that. Usually BJ and Hawk are rolling around together in a cot, trying to get a rise out of Charles across the room, and in the few circumstances where they've actually seen a response—the heat on the back of his neck or the faint wiggling of his restless leg—they've slipped off the mattress like sirens, finding their way to him, meeting his sharp-edged banter with teasing words of their own. It's just an extension of the rhythm they've all ended up in, the games they like to play. Inevitably they all end with Hawkeye as a ruined mess of some kind while BJ and Charles study each other, still panting as they recover from their own release.

This is the way of things nowadays. Since BJ and Hawk are finally over the first nervous hurdles of trying not to fuck things up, BJ gets to take what he wants from an extremely enthusiastic Hawkeye practically whenever he chooses to do so. Charles, meanwhile, has to be all but forcibly dragged in on a casual basis regardless of the fact that he so clearly desires their time. There are times when BJ doesn't think it's even the sex that Charles craves, though the man's certainly never complained about an orgasm. Maybe it's the easy possession. Hawk will drop into BJ's lap, or BJ will pet through Hawk's hair and scratch his scalp during a normal conversation, or Hawk will mold himself around BJ's back and grope him with a hungry groan without so much as a hello. They're open to each other. They're always around to offer support, love, comfort, and passion. Charles seems to need to wait until he's about to burst before he so much as asks if one of them will have a serious conversation with him.

BJ doesn't know if he'd call it jealousy. Just a longing that appears to humiliate Charles. No wonder he needs to be surrounded and caught before he'll let all of his muscles unclench.

Charles finally takes a deep breath. "Should I presume Pierce will be arriving shortly?"

"No," BJ murmurs. "I don't see you going for your pants."

"I don't see a reason why I should," Charles counters.

"How about because I'm gonna fuck you?" BJ leans close and bumps their noses together. "Or how about because I said so?"

No matter what Charles tries to hide from them, he can't conceal that flush of his. His clean, pure, pretty blue blood does so love to betray him in moments like this.

Despite himself, BJ feels heat rush straight into his cock.

"Y'know, I've noticed something about you," BJ murmurs. He shrugs on a warmer tone like a robe, watches how Charles instantly goes for his belt. "You're really not a joiner, huh?"

"Difficult to find one's way into anything when there's not an inch of room," Charles counters. He doesn't sound hurt, exactly, or even sullen, but there's an edge in his voice all the same, and BJ files it away.

BJ shrugs, pursing his lips. "I mean, you could ask for somebody to move over, couldn't you?"

Charles finally breaks free from his grasp. He pushes his chair back with a loud scrape as he takes care of his trousers, then folds them perfectly with not a wrinkle to be seen. With his attention so focused on the task, he either doesn't think to or chooses not to reply.

"I don't know. It's just interesting. Sometimes I'll look over and you're holding yourself back by a thread." BJ chuckles like this is a meaningless conversation. Charles doesn't have to see the keen, smug expression he wants to wear. Not yet. "Like last week, y'know? Hawk and I are in my bunk. I've practically got his ankles behind his ears. He's ready to cry, he wants it so bad. Begging for it. Begging to be bred." Just like that, BJ flicks his gaze up, watches how Charles freezes. Yeah. There you are. BJ finds Charles's hip with one broad hand. As he slips his fingertips under the hem of his shirt, Charles drapes his trousers over the back of his desk chair, then grabs on tightly. "You don't have to be shy about it. I know you've got your thing. You need a son and all that, don't you?"

"I don't see why that's any of your business," Charles mutters, but unfortunately for him, he's starting to tap his foot rapidly on the ground.

"Aw, simmer down, Chuck." BJ moves into him, rests his chin on his shoulder, and lets his fingers continue to wander around to his front. "It's just some fun, yeah? Not that serious."

"Maybe not t—" Charles cuts off in a shiver as BJ shapes his palm right over his round belly. This is where it gets interesting. Hawkeye's easy by his own admission. He'll drop to his knees with little more than a look. But Charles turns his head, face so close that it's blurry, and speaks quite softly, one even tone. "Are you making a mockery of my duty?"

BJ chews on his bottom lip and considers the game here. "No," he finally says with a spreading smile. "C'mon, I wouldn't do that. I'm fetishizing it."

"Y— Excuse me?" Charles's brows shoot toward the sky. He gapes for a few moments before he scoffs. "Only you would take such a noble act as continuing one's bloodline and turn it into nothing but fodder for your perverse entertainment," he snaps.

Uh-huh. BJ takes in how red the apples of his cheeks are. "Not only me. Hawkeye too."

"Of course," he drawls, flicking his gaze away.

"So here's what I figure. You and me both know what kind of guy Hawkeye is." BJ considers further still. He could demean their bunkie, call him a slut—nine times out of ten, that gets Hawk dripping, so it's not like he'd be insulting him—but Hawkeye's not at the middle of this. The only thing he's doing is making sure nobody's gonna come bother the Swamp. No, right now he's just a segue, and one that BJ's happy to deploy. "So if there's a quiet little sector of your brain that gets turned on thinking about getting somebody in the family way, you already understand that all you've gotta do is walk across the tent and tell me to scooch, and I'll be happy to let you breed him. Joining of forces, right? With two of us at it, it's gotta take."

Charles inhales deeply, only just barely audible. He hasn't tried to move away. And when BJ begins thumbing a slow circle through the coarse hairs on his belly, all he does is breathe a touch faster.

"But yeah, no, you're right, you wouldn't do that. Not since the mumps. It stresses you out too much to think you might not be able to get the job done anymore."

"Hunnicutt, I'm warning you," Charles mutters.

When BJ rocks his hips forward, Charles freezes, fingers kneading the back of the chair. BJ grinds just the once more, simply making absolutely sure that Charles can feel how hard he is. That he knows this isn't a dig. Only a game. One that he's very enthusiastic about participating in.

He likes doing things like this, shifting into almost a variant of himself. BJ Hunnicutt—intensely devoted father, holding himself together by braided strings of hope that he'll make it home before Erin's childhood has passed him by—everyone knows who that is. But this is like shrugging on a coat, or perhaps shrugging it off instead. He can feel his voice getting a little more musical, a touch sharper, can find the sincere ache inside of himself and coax out its shadow. For him, it's a harmless perversion that lets him take a step backward when the walls are closing in. But he rather wonders if there's subversion that's about to rise from under his fingertips.

"Then I realized that it doesn't relax that stress at all, playing at getting Hawk pregnant." As he touches his lips to Charles's ear, he pulls him back so there's not a millimeter between them. "You'd rather somebody else do all the work of making sure the Winchester heir takes."

BJ can practically hear Charles's brain explode into a million simultaneous thoughts. He gets it. He knows a little something about shoving shit down so it can't even bleed through the cracks. There's something massive under all that noise that's aching to get out. BJ's just enough of a curious bastard to wonder what might happen if it does.

"Get these off too." BJ drags his hand down and tugs at the waistband of Charles's underwear. "Then lie in the bed."

He doesn't wait to see if Charles is going to argue or obey, just walks back to his side of the Swamp to unlock his truck and shove it open. He finds the tub of lubricant right away; as long as the trunk's locked, it's not as though he needs to hide it any more than that. In fact, he needs it easily accessible for those nights when Hawkeye has him ripping his own clothes off to have him as soon as possible. But BJ takes his time, moving items here and there, making noise, then stalling further still by unlacing his boots, acting as though his own blood's not boiling with a certain hunger of his own. It's tender with Hawk, playing this game. Charles is different.

Behind him, a cot creaks, and BJ takes a long, deep breath to steady himself. He snatches up the tub and impulsively snags a condom packet, practically slams the trunk shut, and stands before he kicks his boots off. When he turns back around, he drinks in the sight of Charles in his cot, under his blanket, up on his elbows so the impersonal fabric is at rest around his waist. His trousers may be neatly draped over the back of his chair, but both his boxers and, unrequested, his shirt are in a pile on the floor right where BJ had left him. He's waiting. Waiting for BJ. Wanting him to call the shots.

It's enough to make a man want to tip away from his logical mind, find himself somewhere feral instead.

BJ's made the particulars of how he inhabits his body into an art form. He shot up too tall too fast, filled out his shoulders before any of the other kids in his class. It was vital that he learn to move like water, fluid and flowing, never threatening. It softens him. But right now he thinks about some of the other jocks in his fraternity house, how they would cut through a room in such a way to have people scrambling to give them space. The tough guys. He centers his mind on it, and only then does he saunter toward Charles's cot. He doesn't have to look at Charles's face to know he's suddenly rougher at the edges, maybe even a little intimidating, but it's gratifying all the same, watching him takes in BJ from head to toe while the slight lift beneath the blanket becomes more and more prominent with each passing second.

BJ comes to a stop right by him, and as much as he wants to dive in headfirst, Hawkeye has goaded and begged for just enough things that BJ had never even conceptualized could arouse a person to a point where he speaks quietly all the same. "Is there anything you wanna talk about?"

Charles opens his mouth, closes it, then shifts his gaze to the back corner. "Hunnicutt, I-I realize this might strain you to the point of throwing out your back, but I would prefer..." He digs up fistfuls of his blanket. "You may say whatever it is that you'd like—as long as you don't laugh at me."

BJ notes it. He's not sure what exactly compels him to reach for one of Charles's hands, coax it to open, then lift it to his lips, but as BJ leaves a kiss on his knuckles, goosebumps lift all the way down his bunkie's bare arm. "Anything at all, huh?"

After one brief moment of thought, Charles nods.

He smiles. "Well. Lucky for you, I have a lot to say."

"Ahaha," Charles drawls out. "Will wonders never cease?" Unfortunately for him, his mockery nowadays is as sweet as a caress.

BJ's far better at reading the things Hawkeye craves without a lot of explanation, but though he has a good line of clues to follow here, he still takes his steps more carefully than he would through a minefield. He backs away, holds up the condom between two fingers, waits for Charles's eyes to focus on it, then tosses it carelessly behind his desk. Charles's punched-out, ragged huff shifts to a groan at the last possible moment and leaves a checkmark by the next item on BJ's mental list. He turns to hide his smirk as he snags the pillow from the spare cot. It's lumpy, which is why none of them have replaced their own pillow with it, but it'll serve a decent enough purpose tonight.

For a man who craves silence, Charles seems antsy now that BJ isn't talking. He shifts and wiggles, adjusting his weight, while BJ crosses back to his side, then glances along the blanket. He considers. Decides to pull it away himself rather than make a request. Charles's thick cock is slick at the tip, flushed all over, and it gently curves toward his belly while BJ shoves the rough cover into a pile at the foot of the cot.

"Lift your hips." Though BJ says the words as quietly as he can, they still sound as loud as a gunshot to him. They even make Charles flinch. But all the same, Charles obeys, and BJ tucks the pillow under them, then rests his hand on one of his thick thighs with a low hum. At first, he simply rubs as though to soothe him. But then he rises higher and higher with each pass until he's feeling the breadth of Charles's ample hips. It seems to settle in what he's doing just then, given how the cock near his hand twitches.

He can't make either of them wait anymore.

He leaves the tub on Charles's end table as he comes to his feet, then strips down as quickly as he can. Though he half-expects Charles to tease him for this too, he doesn't. Maybe he's just as relieved to see BJ overwhelmed by the need to fuck him. BJ keeps his eyes on Charles's face, catches how he stares at his arms, his stomach, and finally resting on his long, hard cock. Fascinated, BJ reaches high overhead, coming up on his tiptoes in a full-body stretch, and Charles whips his head around so quickly that he's shocked it doesn't fall off.

Somehow that kind of response is just as gratifying, flustering him like that. Usually it's Hawk who ends up in Charles's lap or on his knees for him while BJ sits behind, murmurs filth in his ear or coaxes Hawk to take him faster, deeper. He rarely gets his hands on Charles and he's never on display. Not unless Charles is watching them from his side of the room while they lose themselves in one another.

He needs to get started. It's not bragging to say that he's a lot to take. BJ pops open the tub so he can slather his fingers in lubricant, then gets to work.

For a couple of minutes, he's silent, studying how Charles's body responds—if he's moving too slowly, too quickly. There's a moment where Charles digs his nails into his own thighs and BJ thinks it might be time to start distracting him. "You're tight," he observes. "Don't usually do it this way around?"

"Don't usually do it," Charles corrects him in a rough voice. "Before you two, at least. You make it...rather difficult to resist."

"Mm. Any particular reason why not?" BJ thumbs over the back of one of his hands, silently coaxing him to loosen up.

"Well, it certainly wouldn't be appropriate to risk..."

As he trails off, BJ slowly smirks, focusing simply on how his fingers stretch him out little by little. It really does all come back to this, huh? The pressure to produce an heir, the pressure to make sure he doesn't produce the wrong one, the forced isolation such a thing causes. "But there were always other boys, right? C'mon, Charles, I went to an Ivy League too. I know how you prep school fellas are."

Charles's muscles flutter around his fingers, one moment clenching almost painfully tight, the next relaxing so suddenly that he sinks in to the next knuckle before he planned to. "Hunnicutt, this is yet another piece of information that I don't owe you." The however hovers in the air. BJ skims his gaze up and locks eyes with him while he pulls back, works in another finger. "Fo-ooooo-or the record..." The word warbles when BJ scissors his digits open, but he admirably avoids laughing at him, if he does say so himself. "...Mother and Father were...concerned about Honoria and me from the beginning. I should say we did not in-spiiire confidence—do you know how thick your fingers are?" Charles demands.

BJ tips his head to the side, not blinking. "Are you complaining?"

Charles wrinkles his nose, then flops back on his pillow and stares at the ceiling as he speaks in a rush. "I cannot say for sure regarding Honoria's own schooling, but I had reason to believe that my parents asked for the administration to keep a close watch on my relationships with my fellow students."

After a thoughtful moment, BJ nods. There are two paths he could take with this. One would coax Charles into a deeper vulnerability, maybe even open up an extremely strange heart-to-heart between two of the most unlikely men to experience such a thing. The other, though... BJ licks his lips. "Not much chance to experiment, then."

"Decidedly not," Charles murmurs.

The moment BJ rests his other hand on Charles's belly, he feels him stop breathing. "Dodged a bullet there too, then. Or a bun."

Charles doesn't reply. But he relaxes a little more, and BJ is confident that he's ready for him, experienced or not. He slips his fingers out slowly, and when Charles clenches around the emptiness, he fights not to push his cock inside of him right that instant.

BJ turns his attention to gathering just a touch more lube on his clean fingers so he can slick himself up, moving at a glacial pace, silently inviting Charles to watch. "Well. It's a good thing I'm here now, huh?" He drops his voice to that melodic tone with sharper edges. As he puts one knee between Charles's thighs, it lets him be far, far above him, casting a shadow from the nearest light. "Clever of you, really. You got all the way to the other side of the ocean where they don't have a clue what you're getting up to. Who you're getting up to it with. No one's watching, not tonight. There's just Hawkeye somewhere out there, keeping people entertained, making sure they won't come anywhere near the Swamp."

Charles clears his throat. "I suppose that is rather fortuitous, isn't it?" he asks unsteadily, still not looking away from how BJ's teasing himself.

"It really is. That's the beauty of it, huh?" BJ asks. "You don't have to worry about if these work anymore." He palms Charles's balls, gently massaging them just to watch how he shudders and fights to hold back his sounds. "'Cuz you're not gonna be the one knocking somebody up. At the end of the day, you're still a Winchester. And that means you're fucking great breeding stock."

There it is. Charles's eyes widen so far, they've gotta hurt. It's rare that he lets himself be this visibly stunned, especially in front of BJ, of all people, and it tastes sweet and spiced on his tongue, fuels him to push onward.

"Not what your parents planned for, I figure." BJ shrugs and pulls a caricature of sympathy on like a mask, dripping just the edge of condescension into his tone. "I mean, they've got you in line to play husband for, what, a Vanderbilt? A Rockefeller? And here you are with your legs spread for a Hunnicutt from California. But they've got it all wrong." As BJ looms over him, he takes Charles by the jaw again and watches with a thrill as his mouth falls open. "You rich types, you're lucky to get an heir at all. You never mix it up, you know? Never bring in any new blood. It's just the same tired gene pool, the same old story, and it's gonna make all your fancy names die out one day.

"See..." BJ leans closer, thumbs over his bottom lip, watches a rare sheen begin to form on Charles's distinguished brow. "...it's guys like me who make it happen. Filthy little rats with names nobody'll ever remember." And as he carefully shifts his hips, he aligns their cocks—lets his own obscure Charles's more modest length—but he makes very sure to let the weight of his sack drag along Charles's sensitive base, and when the man beneath him sucks in a shaky breath, BJ knows he has him, hook, line, and sinker. "I'm not even gonna have to try to breed you. The second I'm filling you up, it's a done deal, darling. Yeah, you'll get your baby. But there's not a ballroom in all of Boston that'll let her debut. So the way I see it, you're about to be the luckiest girl around." BJ can feel his smirk go toothy, his eyes sparking, as he settles the full weight of his broad body over Charles's soft and round figure. "I'm about to give you your ticket out of there."

It must hit like a truck with the way that Charles suddenly groans and writhes under him, his mouth closing around BJ's thumb so he can press his teeth into it just at the edge of pain. Yeah, no, that's exactly what BJ thought. Maybe he likes the money, the staff, all those perks, but they both know that high society's got more rules tacked on than the whole goddamn Army. From what BJ's heard, one Winchester has already found her a few doorways out of the hellscape. Maybe Charles needs a little more time to make his own—but maybe helping him burn off a little of that tension won't hurt either.

"Shh, shh, it's all right." He pushes his thumb in further and doesn't try to hide his deep moan when Charles gives it the tiniest suck. It seems like it might've been instinctive—Charles freezes and blinks—but as BJ gives another quick thrust, he flushes and sucks harder. "I'll take care of everything. You've got one job: just lay back and take my cock." As Charles thrashes again with a small, pitiful sound, BJ sits back so he can align himself with his target. "No, c'mon, sweetheart, spread them like I know you want to." He's a little rougher than he means to be when he sinks his fingers into Charles's thighs and pushes them open, but the sight of Charles dripping arousal onto his stomach only kicks up his excitement another notch. "You don't need to play cute with me. You've been waiting for some no-good fella to knock you up for years now."

"H-Hunnicutt, y-you..." Though he tries his best, Charles only stammers wordlessly after that, the reverberations alternating between pinched and trembling.

He tracks it, then, how Charles is stabbing his nails back into his body. That won't do at all. This is a game, not a punishment. Before he can second guess the urge, BJ redirects Charles's legs toward his chest instead. "Here, gimme your hands. Need you to hold your legs out of the way for me, all right?" Though he's not sure Charles is even tracking specifically what he's saying, those soft and lovely fingers are offered to him all the same, and BJ leans down, kisses both palms, then guides him to pull his knees back as far as they can comfortably go. It's the doctor in BJ that makes him skim down his hamstrings, just a quick feel to make sure he isn't straining his biceps femoris or semitendinosus on either side. Only when he's satisfied does he cup the base of his own cock.

"That's it," he coos. Honestly, he expects Charles to clamp down when he feels BJ's tip rubbing against his hole—rejecting his body one last time before giving in—but he doesn't. No, he relaxes further, like he's trying to suck him inside. "God..." Charles wants him. Really wants him.

He has to take a breath and shake the shock out of his head before he's too overwhelmed by the fresh surge of desire.

With a groan, BJ begins to ease carefully in. "C'mon, let me in... Juuuust like that... Fuck, Winchester." The surname comes first, tastes filthy on his tongue. There isn't a universe in existence where this should be happening, yet here they are, Charles gasping and staring up at him with wild eyes, BJ fighting not to bite a hole through his lip as he represses the urge to sheath himself with one thrust. "Oh, you needed this, didn't you? You just need somebody...to take it all away."

Confusion drifts across Charles's face like a cloud. BJ watches it carefully, prepared to pull back. But miraculously it passes by, and in its wake, Charles furrows his brow and arches experimentally, taking him in deeper. He groans and squeezes around BJ's length for the first time, a fiery pulse of ecstasy that has BJ doubling over and catching himself on Charles's shoulders. "Hunnicutt, I-I want..." They lock eyes, searing blue on blue. "Don't... Don't take it easy on me. Do you understand?"

He's hit with such a spike of arousal that he curls tighter with a long, shivering groan. "You don't wanna be a delicate flower, Winchester?" BJ teases breathily.

"Not on your life," Charles grits out.

BJ grins as he catches his gaze one more time. "You're right. I haven't forgotten. You're good..." He bucks a little deeper. "...hardy..." Another thrust, further still. "...breeding stock." One last push crushes his pelvis against Charles's ass, and BJ hums in appreciation as he cups his cheeks in both hands and gives them a squeeze. He's stretched obscenely around BJ's cock, but all the same, he fits him just right. No straining, no swelling that's suggesting any kind of damage from rough treatment.

He makes a mental note to check him over again once he's finished fucking the hell out of him.

Since he needs to make sure they both have a moment to really adjust, BJ looks over the rest of his body, the gorgeous shape of him, soft folds here, a more solid swell there. When he gets caught on Charles's pectorals, he figures why not, then grabs one none too gently. "Mm, these are gonna be so fucking pretty. Nice and big. They get more sensitive as they start filling up, you know that?" As he thumbs over his nipple, an almost startled whine come out of Charles as it hardens, and BJ grins. "Maybe I'll come by and check on them every day. See how they're growing. And don't worry if they start feeling sore." It's curiosity that has BJ pinching and rolling it between his fingers, but the way Charles white-knuckles the edge of his cot while he gasps tells a beautifully evocative story all the same. "A nice, hot mouth'll take care of that. And I'll make plenty of time for you."

"If you don't...fuck me..." The words sound as though Charles is fighting against God himself to find them. "Hunnicutt, I-I will not appreciate it if you draw this out much longer."

For the first time, BJ's taken aback. Has he misread all of this? Sure, the man underneath him is hard enough that he's dripping yet another bead onto the slick pool on his stomach, but that doesn't mean a damn thing, does it? Just physiological. BJ plants a hand right by Charles's head and leans down. "You done playing, Charles?" he asks softly as though there's an audience to hear and make Charles feel humiliated.

Charles wrinkles his brow one more time. "Not on your life, Beej." But try as he might, the way he murmurs that nickname only makes BJ want to kiss him. "If you—" He cuts off abruptly as he glances over the shape of BJ. There's a clear appreciative gleam in his eyes as he skims over his shoulders, his arms, and BJ bites his bottom lip with a smile and fights not to flex for him. He fought hard to find a little humility while he was in medical school, but his jock side never lost it. "I am merely suggesting...that I'd rather you have me while I am still able to enjoy it."

BJ blinks a few times. Glances between them. Charles's cock is curved far enough that it is, in fact, sticking to his own stomach now.

"You did need it," BJ murmurs with a certain degree of stunned delight. When he meets his gaze now, he feels like a scamp, like he's getting away with breaking all the rules somehow, having everything he was never supposed to. "Okay. Okay, yeah, Winchester. You want me to make it good for you before I knock you up?" He sits tall on his knees to the sound of Charles's first murmuring moan, pulls out and pushes back inside with experimental force to charm out the second one. "I guess I can do that."

It doesn't take long for BJ to realize that Charles, whether he's taken it in the ass before or not, is in fact not kidding when he said that he doesn't want to be treated gently. Only a few thrusts later, Charles is reaching for BJ's hips and yanking at him. It's enthralling. He can't remember the last time someone this unexpected needed BJ to ruin them.

"Mmm..." BJ lets his eyes fall shut and his lips part as he gets a little lost in the rawness of this kind of sex. With Hawk, sure, they get a little primal sometimes, but it's always tinged with a startling amount of intimacy as though they're trading souls for a short while, trusting the other to put them back where they started rather than letting them be lost at sea. But this is different. It's not casual, exactly—Charles is far more than a colleague, most certainly a friend, and ultimately is someone who BJ can't really imagine a future away from forever. But it's less overwhelming than it ever has been with Peggy, with Hawkeye. Somehow there's less to worry about here.

It's a vital moment of connection. He wouldn't want to play like this with anyone in camp but the two people who live in this very tent. But it's also just...oddly reaffirming of their friendship. A little fun that's a lot closer to the chest than it would be if it didn't mean anything.

As BJ brings himself back into the present, out of the lush waves of physical pleasure and the sparking playfulness that overlays it, he puts his hands on Charles's thighs and lets his bunkie's fall away. "You feel so fucking good, you know that?" BJ purrs. "You were made for this. Made to take cock and be bred. No wonder you're such a pampered thing."

"Ohh..." Charles's flush has spread all the way down his neck and into his chest, a lovely bloom to match the heat right under BJ's skin.

He gets lost just then in watching how Charles's body moves under him. "Gorgeous," he breathes. He's so—

"For God's sake, Hunnicutt," Charles gasps out, stabilizing himself with a hand on the bar above his pillow, rolling his hips down to meet him in the middle with a sense of desperation. "Harder, harder, don't let up now."

The commands are the closest thing he thinks he'll ever get to begging from Charles, and that fact undoes him, practically blisters his brain. "Fuck, Winchester..." He quickly renegotiates the space, shoving the pillow a little further up with his knee, then opening him up as wide as he can with that firm grip on his thighs. His jaw clenches. As he rises to the call with a punishing pace, his muscles begin to burn in a pain that's sweeter than any sprint has ever given him. "You're taking me so deep." When he flicks his eyes up, he zeroes in on how Charles is bouncing with the force of his thrusts, the way that his mouth's gone slack. "You feel it, doncha?" BJ bites his bottom lip, pounds him so his balls are slapping against his skin. "Feel how much I've got, mmnh, to pump you full of? Think you've got room inside you for every fucking drop?"

Charles lets out an almost frantic whine, his hand snapping between them to find his cock and strip it, matching BJ's rhythm.

"Yeah, that's it, that's it," BJ coos. "Oh, you can't wait for it, huh? No, you've gotta milk me dry when you come, is that it?"

Charles's noises border on overwhelm, and if this was any other person, any other situation, BJ would pull back and check in, but this is what he needs, it's what both of them need, practically ripping the skin off their bones with how hard they take this.

BJ stares unblinkingly, painfully, right at Charles's hand, finding growls breaking free from his own chest as a visceral way to stay focused, not slow down. It pays off. The moment he thinks his body's about to cramp up, Charles gasps, throws his head back, and comes with a shocked cry.

"Fuck, that's it. Fuck, Charles." It's intoxicating somehow, watching this man make himself absolutely filthy, jet after jet streaking his body. He's not even sure where the words that bubble up are coming from. "That's right, waste it, you don't need it, I'll take care of everything, darling, you just... Nnh, fuck!" He didn't plan it, not even for the illusion of what they're playing at, but as he explodes inside of him, BJ buries his cock as deep as he can go, even grabs his hips in a bruising hold so he can push him into the tightest ball possible. He's absolutely shameless, grunting out raw, animalistic sounds as he ruts against his ass.

And then he does feel the twinge in his leg, and just like that, down he collapses.

"Hunnicutt!" Charles bellows at the top of his lungs. "You—" He tries to push BJ away, then trembles from head to toe and goes limp instead.

"Just gimme a sec." BJ fights to catch his breath. While he fumbles behind himself to find the back of his thigh and massage his hamstrings, it takes him a moment to realize Charles is still shivering. He's buried his face in BJ's neck and, what's more, he's the one rutting right there against BJ's abdomen. He chuckles. But when Charles stiffens, BJ's quick to murmur. "Y'know, that's a hell of a compliment, what you're doing right now. That was really something, wasn't it?"

Little by little, the tension in Charles's body melts away one last time. "It was...quite educational."

BJ rolls his eyes. A ringing endorsement.

"Perhaps we might..."

It feels like he might've gotten away with not cramping up. BJ hums contently as he comes up on his elbows and looks down at Charles with a sated smile. "Might what?"

Charles clears his throat. He tentatively meets BJ's eyes, then looks away immediately. "You did say that Pierce is...nearby, did you not?"

Realization comes in like a fresh, spring breeze. BJ's eyebrows raise as he reaches between them and rests his palm on Charles's sticky belly. "Y'know, I haven't fucked him yet today. He hasn't come in at least twenty-four hours." When Charles trembles once more, BJ's grin spreads wide enough to hurt. "Mmm, Winchester...you're right. It really would be a shame to leave a job half-done."

[neoheros]

sakusa knows he’s a bad date.

he’s quiet, timid, doesn’t speak much, and asks all the wrong questions at the wrong time.

he’s not very good at eye contact and a lot of the things he wants to say he feels he can’t say at all either.

(partially due to the feeling that everything he says when he talks to you ends up embarrassing him, and partially due to the fact that talking to you for long periods of time make him tongue tied).

(not that he’d ever admit that).

despite all that though, he does know the basics when it comes to going on dates:

he buys you flowers (and forgets it by his doorway), he opens the car door for you (and apologizes when it almost hits you as he opens it), and he makes dinner reservations at the restaurant you mentioned to him in passing three days ago (he did a good job with this one).

so yes, him being a bad date is not unbeknownst to him. quite the opposite in fact, it’s not only something he knows about himself, but it’s also something that he thinks about all the time.

or at least, all the time ever since he’s met you.

that’s how the two of you end up here — the evening of your first (and probably last) date, sitting on a porch step of an empty building, a bloodied handkerchief filled with crushed up snow pressed against sakusa’s left cheek, and a few missing buttons from your favorite winter coat.

sakusa always knew he was a bad date, but he never thought he would be this bad.

the plan had been simple: get you flowers, open the door for you, drive you to the restaurant you liked. sakusa had this game-plan of his memorized ever since you said yes to him four — now five — days ago.

he wrote it on a piece of paper, step by step, and kept it in his wallet sleeve in case he forgets, he repeated it to himself three times in the mirror this afternoon before he left the house to pick you up, and he said it to himself one last time in the car before texting you that he’d arrived.

he memorized it.

and still, he messed it up.

the streets are empty and the evening is quiet.

“sorry … for this.”

his words feel like they’ve been the first to be spoken all night.

on the snowy concrete just below your feet, there’s a few drops of blood making its presence known loudly against the whiteness of the snow, the drops scatter sporadically, and near it, there’s a button or two from your coat.

you sit next to sakusa on the cold steps, it’s a quiet night, and it’s not snowing anymore, but the soft bed of the cold flurry it left behind made for a beautiful evening.

you let your head fall slightly on his shoulder, “for what?”

you can feel him stiffen immediately under your touch, and he coughs, shy, and looks to the side.

it makes you smile a little bit — his efforts of hiding his expressions — it’s not like you can see him anyway with that big makeshift ice-pack covering his face.

“sorry for the bad date.” he clears his throat, more clearly now, a little louder too, but his tone almost sounds disappointed. “… and sorry for ruining your coat.”

you lift your head up from his shoulder, frowning, and you turn to face him, “it’s not a bad date.”

he doesn’t say anything to that. instead, he keeps his head turned slightly away from you, but his shoulders fall a bit when you move away from him.

“if anything, i should be the one apologizing.” you mutter lowly, “i’m the reason you got hurt.”

sakusa huffs slightly. a second pausing in the air as he refuses to return the look you give him, and finally, he puts down the “ice pack” from his cheek, and looks at you.

his cheek is scratched lightly, nothing too deep, just a red mark that’ll probably resolve itself in a few days, but his lower lip though — the culprit of the blood stained snow — is undeniably busted, still bleeding slightly, and making him wince at the sudden loss of pressure.

“don’t say stupid things.” he tells you, and if it makes him sound cold, he swears he’s not trying to be.

he just doesn’t know what else there is to say.

the truth is — it is a bad date.

he forgot your flowers, almost hit you with the car door, and now, the two of you are missing your dinner reservation because he got himself injured twenty minutes into the night.

it’s not fair, he thinks. half the things he wants to say to you, he can’t. half the things he wants to do, he messes up.

you make him fumble on his words, tongue tied, speechless, literally. you make him write things down on notes so he won’t forget them or practice on bathroom mirrors or worry in his car outside your doorstep.

he is the most capable man in his team, he is the sharpest, the most composed, his teammates and coach all count and look up to him.

but for some reason, one night with you, and it all washes away.

he doesn’t know what to say to you, he forgets things, and he falls face first flat on the hard concrete ground twenty minutes into your first date.

don’t say stupid things.

“you really won’t let me take you to the hospital?” you put your hand on his knee, turning even more to your side so you can face him better.

you have half a mind to put your other hand on his injured cheek but you don’t want to hurt him more than how he already does.

“it’s not as bad as it looks.” and as he says that, he winces, the gust of wind suddenly hitting his busted lip a testament to his bad luck tonight.

sakusa wants to kick himself, if there ever would be an appropriate time to act cooler than how he actually was, it would definitely not be now.

you don’t look so convinced, but sakusa wouldn’t know, he’s still only limiting himself to looking at you briefly before shifting his glance to something behind you or beside you or above you.

“hm. and it doesn’t hurt?” you cross your arms.

he shakes his head, “no. it doesn’t.” (it does.)

you raise a brow, “and you wouldn’t happen to be lying to me right now so i don’t take you to the emergency room?”

he shakes his head again, “i’m not.” (he is.)

you give him a look.

listen — sakusa already knows that he’s a bad date, but come on! he has been planning on asking you to dinner with him since the first week he’s known you, he’s been worrying about this evening since the second you agreed to it, and he’s been kicking himself in the head ever since the night began.

he’d rather bleed out on this disgustingly dirty porch step than admit that he’s a date so bad he can turn an evening meant for dinner into a night at the emergency room.

he doesn’t want you to think that he can be so bad like that. (is it too soon to ask you out for dinner again?)

you still look frustrated at his answers. but at least, he’s looking at you now.

you let out a big sigh, shoulders falling, and suddenly, you clap your hands together loudly as you straighten up.

“then i have an idea.” you say, and sakusa furrows his brows at the sudden change in the atmosphere.

you give him a prompting grin. “heads or tails.”

and it catches him so off guard, he says aloud, “what?”

you dig for a coin in your coat, “i’ll flip a coin and if it lands on heads, we go to the emergency room, no arguments, no fusses, no nothing.”

he frowns at that.

“but.” you tell him, and your grin gets wider as you show him the dime laid out on your palm, “if it’s tails, we go to my apartment, and i’ll try to fix you up there.”

his frown falls almost immediately into something else.

one night out with you and he’s already bleeding heavily and injured, and now you wanna take him back to your apartment?

were you trying to kill him?

“heads or tails, omi.”

he blinks at your words. and once again, he finds himself saying aloud, “what?”

you shoot him a funny look, your eyebrows slightly raising as your lips curve upward into a crooked smile.

you say, teasing, “if you don’t know; heads is the part of the coin with the head of the person showing on it and tails is the–”

sakusa grumbles loudly, cutting you off mid-sentence, making sure you see him roll his eyes at you, and he nudges you slightly with his foot.

he mutters, albeit under his breath, and he tries to hide it, but you can always tell when he’s smiling, “i know what a goddamned head is.”

you shrug, your grin wider now when you see his mood lighten up a bit.

“do you know what a goddamned tail is?”

sakusa huffs out an amused sigh. the smile on his face a lot more prominent now, and you only wonder slightly if it hurts him when he does it.

his shoulders fall as he’s defeated, “just take me to the emergency room.”

you let out a short laugh and the night doesn’t seem so quiet anymore.

you fall back against his shoulder, “ah, omi, are you just saving the opportunity to be invited into my apartment for our next date?”

there’s a choking sound to be heard in the air.

his face almost feels like it’ll erupt into flames by how casually you just said that, a hot pink hue creeping up from his neck to nose all the way to the tips of his ears. he blames it on the cold, and immediately, he presses the “icepack” back against his cheek.

sakusa stands up suddenly from the porch step, “let’s go now.”

and just like he said, he strides away, faster than what would usually be safe on snow-covered pavement.

“omi, not so fast!” you yell after him, rising from your own seat and following his pace, “you might fall again and hurt the other side of your face and atsumu will think i beat you up on our first date.”

he walks faster.

“i can go to the hospital myself, please don’t follow me.”

“that’s ridiculous! let me take care of you!”

he trips on his feet slightly as you say that and his heart feels like it would’ve fell from his mouth had he not caught himself before falling again.

you really were trying to kill him, weren’t you?

maybe this date doesn’t feel so bad after all.

and, is it too soon if he asks you to come have dinner with him again?

[suliigwp]

HIII omg i love your writings!! got this idea while i was in the bathroom blasting alchemy by taylor swift and you were the first writer i thought of that i know would slay this! Reader is a known singer but she doesnt really write love songs which charles is completely fine about. His friends ask and tease him about it and he brushes it off then one night on one of her tours she sings alchemy for the first time while charles is watching from the crowd. His whole world stops and maybe even tears up then he just goes on for days bragging about it. HUMOUR AND FLUFFF WHATEVER U WANT THANK YOU SO MUCH

WHERES THE TROPHY?

Charles Leclerc x Singer! Reader | fluff

SULI: hiii omg you have no idea how much it means remembering me first🥹 thank you soooo much!!!!! — very cool because I actually do have a singer!readers series coming up but none of the love interests is Charles sadly— but I really love singer au's and this was so much fun to write! Thank you so much for requesting, love you, hope you enjoy🫶

I'm absolutely obsessed with this song — stream "The alchemy" now!!!

Warnings: none, short and sweet, Twitter post at the end

Charles liked to think he had you figured out.

At least, the version of you the world didn’t get to see — the quiet one, the tired one after long studio nights, the version that wore his hoodie to bed and snuck kisses onto his shoulder when you thought he was sleeping.

He liked being the silent inspiration, the person behind the curtain. You were his in private — that was more than enough.

"She doesn't write love songs."

That was the line Charles Leclerc had come to know and love. He’d heard it in interviews, read it in headlines, and smiled through every late-night talk show where someone inevitably asked, “So, do you really not write about him?”

The camera would zoom in, the crowd would laugh, and you’d flash that sly little grin. “Don't worry, if I wrote a love song,” you always said, “you’d know it.”

Charles didn’t mind. In fact, he was fine with it.

You were his.

Even if the rest of the world liked to think you belonged to them.

The fans, the cameras, the interviews — they all wanted pieces. But Charles had long made peace with being the part no one else got to hear in the songs.

Because you didn’t write love songs.

Everyone said so.

You said so.

And Charles believed it. Until the night you didn’t.

...

back, first year of dating

“You still haven’t written a song about me,” Charles teased from the couch, bare feet on the floor, one arm lazily slung around your waist. His eyes were half-lidded, lips curled into that soft smile he only gave you when the world was quiet.

You rolled your eyes, brushing your fingers through his curls. “You say that like you’re not already in every other one.”

“Yes, but I want the main character treatment,” he said, dramatically pressing a hand to his chest. “The standing ovation. The bridge that emotionally ruins people.”

You just laughed, kissed his cheek, and said, “Maybe when you win Monaco.”

He groaned. “Cruel woman.”

...

He hadn't told you he was coming.

You were in the middle of a sold-out run through Europe, and Charles was drowning in simulator sessions and car debriefs. But when he saw the gap in his schedule, he booked the ticket quietly, packed light, and told his engineers he was leaving for “something more important than tyre degradation.”

Barcelona was a quick flight from Monaco. Your show there had been sold out for months, and he knew better than to try and sneak in through backstage. So he did what no one expected:

He lined up like everyone else.

He didn’t tell you. You were always happiest on stage, and he wanted to be just another face in the crowd that night. Just a quiet, anonymous dot in a sea of lights and sweat and noise.

Hood up, cap low, a simple black tee that did nothing to hide how gorgeous he was. He bought a pit wristband from resale (triple the price, but whatever), pushed into the crowd, and waited.

His heart beat harder the closer it got to showtime.

He didn’t know why. He’d seen you perform dozens of times. Hell, he’d watched you rehearse in sweats with a tea bag hanging out of your mouth. He lived with you.

But something about tonight buzzed different.

The lights dimmed.

The crowd erupted.

And then you appeared.

...

You always had a certain way of standing still — calm, rooted, like you didn’t need fireworks to be the most magnetic person in the room. Charles felt the shift the second you stepped up to the mic.

“This one’s new,” you said softly.

The crowd stilled.

“I wasn’t planning to play it live yet, but…”

You paused, and smiled.

“He’s here tonight.”

The girls around Charles screamed.

He went still.

No.

You’re not—

The opening chords were simple, soft. A rhythmic pulse like a heartbeat.

"Shirts off, and your friends lift you up over their heads, Champagne sticking to the floor"

The lyrics felt so close, so personal, Charles swore you were staring right at him, even though you couldn’t see him through the crowd.

"Cheers chanted, cause they said, There was no chance, trying to be The greatest in the league"

And then.

Then.

“Where’s the trophy? He just comes running over to me.”

Charles’s knees nearly buckled.

The lyric struck him like a punch to the gut.

He didn’t even breathe for a second — chest tight, hands shaking, mouth parted in stunned silence.

You remembered.

Monaco.

That day.

The crowd, the flags, the win — his first home win. The one he had chased like a ghost for years.

He remembered the noise, the champagne, the cameras flashing. But more than anything, he remembered you, standing behind the barrier, tucked to the side — quiet and glowing and waiting.

He hadn’t even thought.

He just ran.

Straight to you. Through the crowd. Past everyone. Helmet barely off.

You caught him in your arms like you’d been waiting there your whole life.

“Where’s the trophy?” the reporter had asked him after.

And he’d smiled before glancing over at you.

...

By the time you hit the final chorus, Charles had completely given up pretending he was okay.

His eyes were glassy. His cheeks were damp.

A teenage girl next to him elbowed her friend and whispered, “That guy is, like, sobbing.”

He didn’t even notice.

When you sang the last line and let the guitar fall quiet, Charles couldn’t move.

The stadium exploded in sound.

You bowed.

The lights went out.

And he just stood there — one hand pressed over his heart, whispering the lyric under his breath like a prayer.

...

Backstage, everything felt like static.

You were mid-change when a tech knocked on the greenroom door.

“Uh… sorry, there’s a guy trying to come back here. He says he’s your boyfriend? Hoodie, cap, extremely beautiful—kind of panicked?”

You laughed, heart already racing.

“Let him in.”

Charles barrelled into the room like a man possessed.

“You—” he said, voice raw.

You turned, makeup still smudged, hair frizzing from sweat, and barely had time to open your arms before he was there — pulling you into him like he hadn’t seen you in years.

“Monaco?” he whispered.

You nodded against his chest.

He pulled back just slightly, hands cupping your face, eyes red-rimmed and earnest. “You remembered.”

“Of course I did.”

“You wrote about it.”

A breathless laugh. “You wrote about me.”

You shrugged playfully, nose brushing his. “Guess you’re the main character now.”

His grin cracked wide and helpless, and then he kissed you. Soft, slow, deep — the kind of kiss that says thank you and I love you and I’m never letting this go.

“You’re screwed now,” he whispered, grinning against your mouth.

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to brag about this forever.”

...

And he did.

The next morning:

And for the rest of the season, no matter how many podiums he earned, Charles had one answer to every post-race interview:

“Where’s the trophy, Charles?”

“She’s probably watching from home.”

Taglist, comment to be added;

@angstynasty @cryinghotmess @mits-vi @dramaticpiratellamas @mimisweetz @mrssaturday @chiara8104 @moonlight-girls-posts @linnygirl09 @rue-t @danielricroll @the-vex-archives @trees-are-books @blodwyn4u @yoruse @ccrickett-t @l-a-u-r-aaa @multifans-things @woderfulkawaii @azrinableuet @mayax2o07 @everyday-is-sunday365 @devilacot

Make sure you can be tagged!

[dilf-docs]

Where Art Thou, Why Not Uponeth Me?

renaldo x younger fem!reader

summary: he wasn't even your uncle anymore, having divorced your aunt about five years ago. but of course here he was, the life of the party, crashing your sister's wedding. (alternatively: your fun bachelor uncle crashes your sister's wedding and then your pussy in the bathroom while everyone else is drunk or dancing, based on my own tweet)

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (50/25), pwp, p. in v., public sex, oral (m. receiving), rough sex, doggy style, bit of degradation + pain + humiliation kink (this combo fr), exhibition kink, forced creampie, no mommy kink but he calls her mami (as in a petname), nasty!renaldo (he's a chavorruco latin lover asshole with serious commitment and flirting issues), sprinkles of angst ig?

word count: 5,130 words

side note: the snl series is back because i definetely work harder than the devil. yes, don't underestimate a horny touch starved virgin writer who hyperfixiates for a living. this filthy public sex (another episode of the writer's poorly disguised fetish) is inspired by pedro!renaldo in the newest domingo sketch (God, i love marcello my short king) because the crash out i had after it ended (sabrina, bad bunny, andy samberg and pedro all in a room singing espresso they did it for me i fear) and snl 50 in overall was kinda cathartic; i hadn't wrote like this since my sebstan days (wdyk about dilf-docs lore huh). here's some renaldo latin lover dick for you my lovely new citizens BECAUSE WE HIT A 1K POPULATION

You take a sip from the bubbly alcohol, the sweet taste in your lips as you savor your surroundings: music blasting through the speakers, the sound of glasses and cutlery, mellow conversations and the loud buzzing behavior your family is known for; everyone is here.

You lean to your left.

"Tía Elena is a drink away from blacking out" shouting over the music.

"Te apuesto cinco dólares a que se cae en la pista" (i bet you five dollars she falls in the dance floor)

You smile back mischievously at your brother. "Deal"

Your cousin Marcello pops up from behind, hovering like a fly over the food. Was it a thing in your family to be this fucking nosy all the time?

"What are y'all doing?"

Your other cousin Benito joins the circle, speaking over the song:

"They betting Tía Elena will fall again" he laughs, "como en la última reunión" (like in the last meeting)

"Hey! Esa es mi mamá" Marcello protests. (that's my mom)

"Jesus, Beni" you hit his shoulder playfully, "what a snitch"

"There's nothing else going on, is it?" your brother argues back in defense. "Can't blame us for trying to be entertained y tu mamá por no dejar la botella" (and your mom for not putting the bottle down)

"If you all went dancing, like me, you'd had fun" he huffs, crossing his arms.

Benito laughs, "you call that dancing?"

Marcello rolls his eyes, "I'm gonna go somewhere where they appreciate me and the art of moving your body with rhythm"

"Ain't no one stopping you!" your brother quips.

You laugh at the men's antics, looking at the dancefloor. Your eyes catch your sister, moving gracefully in her white dress, that twirls with the music. She's all smiles, and has never looked this pretty before, the happiness bouncing off her like the floral perfume she's wearing, akin to the smell of the flower arrangements hanging on the walls. It may be the day or that you'd always been a romantic, but today you had almost ruined your makeup at every chance: crying over her entrance, over the vows, over the speeches, the first dance... God, you love weddings as much as you love your sister.

"You men are insufferable" you take a long sip, "I need more female energy here but all I see is you" to prove so, your eyes dart across the room, full of drunk tíos laughing loudly while shoving alcohol down their throats, all the women on the dancefloor, where you should be. But you haven't, not since #he stopped showing around to drag you by force.

Benito snickers.

"Si tía Ana hubiera venido, tal vez" (if aunt ana had come, maybe)

You click your tongue, expression awkward. She had stopped coming to the meetings all together, like she had become suddenly allergic to her family.

"Ay, Beni" you sigh. "You know she hasn't been the same since..."

In some ways, you hadn't either.

"Yeah" he agrees.

"Oh, I would've gone mad too, you know" your brothers raises his glass. "After-"

"Well, but she's the one missing out!" Marcello adds with a loud cackle, interrupting him.

Benito looks behind him, smirking "Weren't you gonna leave?"

You all laugh at your younger cousin. "Ustedes ya no tienen respeto por nadie" (you guys don't respect anyone)

"You're supposed to respect your elders" you rob a champagne flute from a waiter passing by, the glass meeting your lips. "Not annoying cousins"

You look at both your brother and Beni, waiting for them to jump on the teasing, but they're both looking at the entrance of the venue. If their jaw is tight, brows furrowed and eyes wide open, it musn't been good.

"Pero, ¿tú me estás jodiendo?" (are you fucking kidding me?)

You follow your cousin Benito's gaze after his little comment, and the tranquil champagne now bubbles in your throat up violently, making you cough.

"What is happening?" Marcello jumps, placing himself in the middle of you all. He looks frantically around, until he meets the object of your attention, specifically, person. "Is that-?"

"Yes" you find your voice after a cough, "its uncle Ren"

In all his glory. Well, more like ex-uncle. But God, didn't he look good? Of course, that's the important part and not finding out the reason why the hell he's showing up to your sister's wedding when he's not legally part of your family anymore, not since about five years ago, when he divorced your aunt Ana. You've only heard of him as of late, your tías whispering past Christmas about how they'd seen Ren at the beach, whistling at younger ladies in clad bikins with his old gang of bachelors he used to run with before settling in. How fitting.

Talking about divorce... It did him good. Not to take digs at your aunt, but as he walks in with that confident strut of his, gold chain on that broad chest of him, glowing under the lights, hair neatly trimmed and gelled back, some more greys on his hair than you remembered, and that mustache and fucking goatee... He flashes everyone a charming smile with his full pearly whites and dimple on display, going to hug your sister who looks as confused and surprised as you do. But uncle Ren always gave the best hugs, so she accepts when he wraps her up in his embrace that smells like sandalwood, leather and cigs, strong arms caging her smaller frame. The biceps flex, and you wonder if he has started hitting the gym, despite his age.

You squirm in your seat, finishing the flute in a long sip that drags like a cigarrette.

"Jesus Christ" your brother shakes his head. "Dude's not got an ounce of shame on that body"

More like that sturdy body.

"Well, that's uncle Renaldo to you" Beni adds with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Ex-uncle" you feel the need to clarify for no reason.

"No puedo creer que se atreva a aparecer después de como terminó todo con la tía Ana" Marcello coaxes. (can't believe he has the nerve to show up after how things ended with aunt ana)

"Divorcing her?" you ask with a barely contained snicker. The men all look at you and sigh.

Alright, your preference to your uncle had never gone completely unnoticed, especially in a family as attentive as yours. But it was impossible not to fall under (ex)uncle Ren's spell: you suppose that is the reason it took your aunt so long to divorce him, despite their broken marriage that had been going on for years. Because while he could be the funniest and most easy-going person in the room, he too was a serial flirter who didn't stop a sleazy smile bearing all his whites or unwarrented compliment coming out of his plump lips. He had never cheated on her, but it was hard to believe he hadn't. Renaldo knew he was hot, and that made him dangerous.

No wonder your aunt clinged so hard to their sinking ship. You still remember how proud she was when he brought him in first. Call him uncle Ren, she had insisted. After that, he started showing up around more, and then there was a ring on her finger she couldn't stop talking about. They were married for ten years, separated for six and divorced since five. Didn't have any kids, despite how much your aunt wanted them. Never had time, probably wasting it crying about his late homecomings and missed calls, mind busy in heart-breaking thoughts and a frail homelife, bound to be torn apart by his bachelor mindset that had been attractive first; how she'd fallen for the man who lighted up your barbacues and taught you how to ride your bike, even kicking an ex-boyfriend's ass once. He couldn't handle all this, he whispered on that seductive voice of his, and it was so hard to not stare and drool like a fucking dog, face burning up. Maybe it started then, when you were twenty, and you hadn't looked back ever since.

"Ah, mis sobrinos!" you all look up, and you know that deep rich sultry voice all too well. (my nephews!)

Speaking of the devil, he's coming to your table, all smiles like all the women who took Ana's side hadn't stopped dancing to glare at him. He gives a loud shout to the men across the room, and they all salute back, despite his reputation, because some of them still saw him at their bar runs, too funny and charming to pass up on his company. Renaldo is wearing something a bit too casual for the occasion, but hot damn, he looks too good.

"Ya no somos tus sobrinos, Ren" Beni corrects, but Renaldo quickly dismisses the younger man. (we're no longer your nephews)

"Familia siempre es familia" he counters. He hugs everyone of you, and when it's your turn, your body can't help but stiffen at first, then relax on arms that do indeed feel stronger. Ren still smells the same. (family is forever)

"You've been hitting the gym, uncle Ren" you giggle, champagne speaking up for you. "Sorry, just Renaldo"

He smirks while licking his lips, like he's savoring the sound of his name only on your voice. "You were always an observer, weren't you, doll?" he oggles you up and down, while your brother scoffs at your heating cheeks. "You look just about fine yourself too"

Those tight black pants, remembering legs you had seen before in shorts, hairy and strong, but what catches you the most is the big silhoutte between them, still noticeable under the strobbing lights. You gulp, and when you look up to him again, his gaze is dark even when he's smirking. You think he's noticed.

"What are you doing here?" your brother cuts the moment, and you have to roll your eyes.

"Coming to my sobrina's wedding, of course" he responds easily, like his answer is supposed to make sense.

"She isn't your nephew anymore, Ren" Benito stands up, his height clashing with his. "So why don't you leave, old man, huh? You ain't welcome anymore"

He opens his mouth, but Beni cuts him.

"And don't give me that familia bullshit. If you cared, you'd have saved your marriage"

Renaldo's jaw tightens as you three watch the tense exchange.

"Yo amaba a tú tía" he defends himself. "All this family" (i loved your aunt)

"Well" your brother is the next to stand up, "you should've showed it when it mattered"

You wish for times to be simpler: when he'd be in the middle of the dance floor, moving while singing along outloud until everyone would be forced to join him, allured by his larger than life character and playful disposition, accompanied by his attractive features. Renaldo was a force of nature that not even you were spared from: his thunderous presence turned your life upside down from the moment you became a woman and your silly crush roamed into deep uncharted territories, where your heart beat too loud and your gaze lingered on the forbidden, taking every wink and compliment uttered by that grave voice of his, savoring all the interactions you could yet it was never enough.

"You should leave" Marcello backs them up, making Renaldo tsk.

"What about you, doll? Want Ren to leave?" you react, body tense when you realize he's talking to you, your brother and cousins waiting for your answer. "We ain't even danced yet, remember? Like before"

"Time's up" a new figure emerges. Papá Francisco, Ana's father and your great uncle. "You should've thought about that before, amigo" friend, spoken in a mocking tone.

"Alright, pops" he chuckles, but it's humorless, while he raises his arms in mock surrender. "I just wanted to see my beautiful girls all grown up on Natalia's special day"

"Just the girls?" a voice scoffs behind. Awesome, now your great aunt is here. "Leave. You have now seen them"

Why can't anyone just mind their own business?

(You probably weren't being fair, but Jesus, couldn't you enjoy a bit of time with a man you crushed on and hadn't seen in five years?)

"Hola, Imelda. Looking nice" and he takes her hand and kisses it. Oh, how you wish to be her, who removes her palm with a flustered face.

"What's going on?"

Now your sister has come to where a small crowd has formed, a frown on her beautiful face. Her husband trails behind.

"Nada, Nati. Tu vuelve a la pista y disfruta tu boda" Beni dismisses. (nothing, nati. go back to the dancing floor and enjoy your wedding)

"Well, you've made it my bussiness by having this conversation on my wedding, as you say" she sighs tiredly, running a hand through her hair. "Why don't you just leave him alone and we all go back to our thing, yeah?"

"No" Renaldo, who had been quiet, speaks up. "I know where I'm not welcomed" that earns a mocking Do you? from your brother and Beni scoffs. "I'll leave now" then turns around one last time, boots marking their steps with a clicking sound that echoes off the walls, despite the music still playing. "Have a nice life, Nati. Wish you the best"

You watch his back getting farther and farther away, getting lost in the sea of bodies on the dance floor. Your heart plummets and you can't he's gone again from your life, just like that.

"Show's over, gente. Go back to the party" Papá Francisco speaks in a harsh tone, filled with finality.

You try, you do, even going to the dance floor with the men, dancing around with a friend of Nati's husband who asks for your Instagram handle when the song ends, but your mind is elsewhere.

"Excuse me" you tell him with a sweet smile, and he makes you swear you'll give him your username when you're back.

Taking advantage on everyone's bliss, you quietly sneak away from the dance floor, walking towards the gardens.

One thing you'll always admire of your sister, is her attention to detail. She had chosen this particular venue for it's ample gardens, choosing for a reception on the open due to the favoring weather conditions on summer.

The dress clings to your body as the windy breezes by, and you hug your body, cursing your heels that have now started to hurt. You spot the rose bushes your sister had trimmed, looking as beautiful as the first day you saw them on the rehearsal.

"You should've stayed inside"

You jump then relax when you see him, cigarrette dangling from his mouth.

"Here" you take out a lighter from your purse. His face comes closer, hot breath on your face until the click casts a small flame that flickers light over his ageing features. He's aged fine like wine, and by the smirk he gives you before taking a drag, Renaldo's aware of it, maybe about the effect he has on you.

"Thank you, sweetheart" his big hand finds its way to the bush, rustling some leaves. In a harsh tug, he cuts a rose, and you laugh in surprise. "Here"

You smile. "I don't think you're supposed to cut these"

"But it's beautiful, isn't it?" his hands brush yours when you take the gift. "As beautiful as the lady"

A pool of heat forms in your stomach. He's complimented you before, sure, but never has the air felt this charged before, a lurking dangerous anticipation condensed on his smoke trails and your shaky breaths.

"I'm sorry you had to leave"

Renaldo is still close to you. You get a whiff of his cologne, mixed with the cigarette; it's intoxicating. Your eyes dart to the chain, and you wonder how would it look-

"They made me leave" he corrects with a chuckle, a deep rumble coming from his chest.

"Right" you laugh, feeling nervous all of the sudden. "My bad, Ren"

"You didn't want me to leave, did you, doll?" the new wave of petnames makes your legs weak. "Also..." he makes a brief pause, the cigarette now dropped and stomped against the grass. "I like the way that sounds"

Before you realize, his fingers are ghosting over your lip, brushing until some of the matte shade coats his calloused thumb.

His fingers then move to your chin, applying a light pressure to your skin, but enough to bruise.

"Say it again"

"W-what?" you ask, barely a breath.

"Say it, y/n" his face is just inches away from yours. You have to bite your lip to hide out a whine from the sound of your name on his voice. "I know you want to"

"R-Ren" you choke out, fluttering eyelids at the way the pressure doesn't falter.

"Now be a good girl and spell my full name like it's the only thing you know"

The following whimper you can't contain it; the praise gets to you.

"Renaldo"

His brown eyes adquire a dark shade that even in the low moonlight, you notice.

"So pliant, doll. For me?"

You nod dumbly, completely fucked out of your mind, warning sirens barely a buzz in the back of your head. Be it the alcohol, or the lack of control you had when it came to him, its impossible to resist the want to fall.

A beat. "Might reward you for that"

He crashes his mouth into yours, full force, in a heated, hungry and messy kiss. He sucks your lips so hard they for sure will bruise, an action very fitting with his strong and absorbing character. His tongue is wet and sloppy, giving you no space to breathe as you grant him access, wrapping your hands around his midsection, pulling him closer.

Renaldo chuckles, letting you gasp for air. "So needy, aren't you? Always were like this. So demanding; wanna have things your way"

"I see you know me well, don't you?" you bat your eyelashes.

"It's impossible to ignore you, you goddamn tease" your fingers trace through his broad back, tanned skin soft that your nails feel the need to dig. You once eavesdropped on your aunt gushing to your tías about how he loved nails-- long fresh manicured nails; red for the win. "Fucking temptress"

Renaldo groans into your mouth. "Think I wouldn't notice how you looked at me with this hungry eyes, huh?" he bites your lips so hard you taste blood. "Might as well just said it"

He forces his tongue inside of you again, making your body squirm as he presses his weight over you, back pinned to the bushes, the leaves tickling your skin. Ren now swallows a whine of yours, dick throbbing hard at your needy sounds.

He then detaches his mouth from yours, a silver string of saliva connecting you two.

"Still can't fucking say it"

But he insists you're the tease.

You cock an eyebrow. "Never was good with words. How about this?"

Renaldo holds your gaze as you descend, until your knees hit the grass. Your fingers toy with his pants until you pull them down, following with his underwear.

"Oh, doll. Consider me interested" as if his cock wasn't leaking with precum.

Your lips begin to wrap around the tip of his cock, then swallow him whole, eager and so fucking cock starved. Soon, you pick up a rapid pace, your tongue doing God knows what but his jaw is tense from keeping the sounds from coming out, but aren't you testing his limits? Slurping on his damn cock like you've been deprived of it all your life. In a way, you have, and you don't waste time in not sucking the living soul out of him.

Your eyes look up, chest warm and pussy wet at the pleasure etched across his face, and he looks at you, at your drooly mess for sucking his dick.

He tugs your hair harshly, making you gag.

"I wanna see you" he gathers your hair up into a makeshift ponytail to keep it out of your face. "Keep going-"

A grunt escapes his lips, cutting himself off. You clasp your thighs together looking for some pressure to ease yourself a little, your mouth busy still gagging, sank down until you feel his balls. The tip of his cock is buried in your throat, lodged so fucking deliciously in the back. You let it out, and Renaldo groans.

"The fuck you do that for?" comes out his complain, voice strained.

"I needed my mouth to speak" you clean some drool on your face. "Need you to do something for me" he clears his throat as letting you speak. "I want you to fuck my mouth"

"Carajo, muñeca" you place a little kiss on his inner thigh. "You're so fucking dirty, who would've thought?" (fuck, doll)

Your chest rises and falls, lips parted while a string of saliva coats them.

"Alright, wanna see if you're just talk, you cock hungry whore" Ren smirks devilishly. "I'm gonna ruin the fuck out of you"

He gathers you by your hair and shoves you back down, hips bucking with a movement so brash you choke. Your pretty eyes water and your fake eyelashes get wet. Renaldo continues to buck his hips up and force you down, choking and spit sounds making his dick hard as he throws his head back with half-lidded eyes.

His big cock stuffing your throat feels like a dream and he knows you're enjoying it.

A little content smile graces his lips, and he can feel his abdomen tightening. He bucks his hips up faster, forcing your head down deeper, panting as you gag on his cock, and when his grip on your hair falters and his body shakes, you know he's close.

"Little slut" he teases with a hoarse voice, "do you want to eat my cum that badly?"

Your answer comes in the form of sucking him off to drive him to the edge, refusing to pull out.

"Entonces hártatelo, puta" (then gorge on it, slut)

He fills your throat up with his cum, sputtering and swallowing down as much as you can while he holds you in place. You gasp for air when he finally lets you go, a mix of cum and drool running down your chin.

"A fucking expert, doll. Five stars" his finger brushes over your skin. "Look at this mess 'cause you were too fucking hungry. Lick it"

Your chest heaves, but you get close to the fingers, sucking on them. It tastes like him and you, the sensation making both your cunt and chest warm. You don't hold yourself back and look at him all the time, the sucking sound as obscene as the latest.

Suddenly, in the quiet of the night, you can't think of anything else.

But then leaves rustle, yet none of you have moved.

"Y/n?"

Shit, It's Beni. You then recognize Marcello and your brother, trailing behind.

"Looks like we gotta go" he laughs, amused. You can only feel your face burn. "Ah, no te preocupes, muñeca. I know a place. Follow me" (don't worry, doll)

Renaldo has taken you to a fucking bathroom, just meters away from the venue. But the music is loud, and no one notices the two people hurriedly getting inside, like dumb horny teenagers.

"Jesus" he pants, and you click the door. He reaches for your face, carressing your warm skin before ghosting over your lips. "Now, where were we?"

The kiss.

Again, it's rushed, rough and impatient, like he too had been waiting a lifetime to taste you.

Renaldo pushes you against the bathroom's wall, making you moan when his larger frame cages yours. You're drowning of him: his smell, his sweat that starts to pool, the heat radiating off his body, the view you have of his veins and tense muscles, that fuckass chain... It's all now yours.

He gropes your body, testing forbidden waters until now. Then, his hand leaves your ass and reaches for your exposed inner thigh. His greedy fingers wander into the upper cut of your dress without any warning and head for your clit. The older man hisses, feeling your wet patch, rubbing teasingly through the thin material of your laced panties you now feel lucky to have chosen, arousing you even more. You feel them damp and sticky while tilting your head back in pleasure and he takes the chance to paint bruises all over your neck and collarbone. 

"Renaldo" you moan his name as his tongue licks the exposed skin of your collarbone, trailing dangerously close to the valley of your tits, pushed up thanks to the dress. He bites down on the crook of your neck, skin inviting.

"Glitter, baby?" he chuckles at how it seems to shimmer. Your friend Sabrina had convinced you to do it, even borrowing you hers; it smelled like vainilla.

"What's this, huh? You youngsters never fail to amaze me" with a sleazy smile that makes your pussy clench, more when he open his mouth to show you his sparkling tongue.

"Oh? We're just getting started" you pant as his fingers slide through the seam of your panties, gracing your entrance. "I'm full of surprises"

"Little minx, I like that sassy mouth of yours" you roll your hip to reach out for his teasing fingers, "we're about to find out"

You repeat the motion, cunt aching for his touch, but end up gracing his pulsating strained bulge with your upper belly in the process. He stops, the black pants looking uncomfortable-- fighting to be freed.

"Fuck, mami. Need'a be inside you" you nod too eagerly, lips parted open. His hand graces your ass. "Now turn around"

You obey without thinking twice, and he pushes your face down on the counter with a harsh demanor.

"You won't move, right?" you hum, despite his hand placing on your neck and the other grabs your waist hashly, fingers digging in the skin to keep you still. You whimper at the light pain, "Good girl"

He pulls down your panties until they fall down to the floor, then hikes your dress up, exposing your ass.

"Nice, mami" he whistles, "I like what I see"

To prove so, he uses his hands to part your legs and spread them open, his other hand undoing his pants for the second time during that night.

"Tell me how much you want this" but he's already pushing the head of his cock into your folds. His tip brushes your soaking clit, and it sends a delicious but painful shiver that coarses through your body.

"Badly" you cry out.

"Tus deseos son órdenes, muñeca" he purrs. "Despite it all, I'm a gentleman" (your wish is my command, doll)

In one swift move, he pushes his length into your slick folds. "So wet, doll. 'S it for me?" you nod and he laughs, "gonna reward you for that"

He pulls his cock out and then slams it all inside, burying himself to the hilt.

You jerk under his hold at the sudden move, feeling all his girth in your walls, trying to take him. A breathy moan falls from your lips.

"Shh, don't move" he leans down to whisper in your ear, "music is loud but it ain't gonna do miracles to cover up those slut sounds out of you"

He doesn't ask for permission, only increasing the pressure of your face against the counter, the cold burning against your cheek, and begins to move inside of you, soon picking up an erratic pace, his pelvic area slamming into your ass. Fuck, your eyes sting from the brutal force of each thrust as he forces into you, movements sloppy, and the obscene sound of skin clapping against skin feeling the now feeling even smaller bathroom, that is starting to get hotter and more humid. You can't really see the mirror, but can imagine it fogging up.

"Tell me how it feels" Renaldo pants, his grip on your waist increasing in pressure. "Wanna hear you say how much you love my cock, little puta" (whore)

"S-so goo-good" you sputter out.

"'S that why you had to suck me off in the garden?" he chuckles darkly. "Couldn't even fucking wait, didn't care to be caught like a fucking whore by tus primos y hermano. No, you wanted Renaldo's cock so fucking badly you got on your knees as soon as he came back into your life" his words should make you feel embarrassed, but you moan at the string of humiliating and lewd words. "Bet you thought about it since forever, heh? You opportunist cocksleeve. That you touched yourself to this even when I was with Ana"

"C-couldn't help it, Ren. Wanted you so so bad" you cry. "Always have"

"Fucking filthy little shit" he whistles, "you're no good girl. You're a real bad girl"

You whine, turning into a moaning mess, blabbering nonsense.

"I-I need to-"

"Go on, tell Renaldo what you need"

"Need to c-cum" you gasp, walls clenching around his cock, your eyes battling to remain open.

He leans down, bitting your earlobe. Then, he kisses it, his smokey scent carresing your hot skin.

"Go on, baby. Wanna see you take all of my seed until it drips from your legs" he grunts, his thrusts sloppy and messy like his kisses. "I need'a see you walkin' back inside so everyone knows what you did, you filthy slut. For everyone to see what's mine"

You see stars, pussy gushing over his dick. His thrusts loose rhythm, and you know he's out for blood.

"W-wait!" you feel the overestimulation as his dick twitches inside you.

"You said you'd behave" he pants, his hold still firm. "So don't be such a fucking bitch and let me cum too, mami. You aren't cruel, are you?"

"N-no"

"Then you'll let me do this" his cock spasms, "and this"

His seed spurts inside of you, thick whiteness dripping down your ass and thigh as your pussy milks it. Some spills on the floor, some drops on your dress and some on his pants, black pants, making him hiss.

"Fuck" he curses, while pulling out. "See that?"

"Oh, I see" you chuckle dryly. "But you forget only one of us is going back to the wedding"

He chuckles, taking in the sight of you: dress ruined, hair damp, run makeup and cum-stained legs. Despite it all, you're still so pretty, and he can't believe a girl he used to call sobrina five years ago has now taken his dick like a fucking champ. Renaldo tugs some loose strands behind your ear, sleazy smiling at you.

"I have a solution" his finger traces your arm, taunting.

You want to stretch your time with him. God knows when you'll see him again.

"Yeah?"

"No awkward questions, no explanations, and more of this" he signals his dick; it's still pulsating, dear Lord. How old was this guy again?

You shouldn't bear any hopes or hop on his truck that probably reeks of ashes and rum. But you never had any sense when it came to Renaldo, and now that you've tasted him, nothing will ever be the same.

"I'm all ears"

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @a7estrellas

[sugusama]

hii, i loved your Katsuki fic and wanted to submit a request. katsuki x american gf reader, where he’s never met her but they try to talk throughout the day by texting or calling despite time difference. then they meet at the end of the fic as a surprise for katsuki (still UA au please). tyy :)

꒰🫧꒱﹒ 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ﹒⟢ featuring: katsuki bakugo ‧₊˚ . ꣑୧

sypnosis ☆ bakugo never expected to fall for a girl halfway across the world… especially one with a six-hour time difference and a laugh that lives in his head rent-free. between classes at ua and her busy days in america, they text, call, and fall a little deeper with every message. but what happens when time zones and screens aren’t enough anymore? ⸝⸝ ᰔ ̫ ᰔ⸝⸝

content warnings ☆ fluff, comfort, a little angsty, ua based, black female reader, she/her used, lowercase intended, not proofread, bakugo has broken english, italics = japanese ๑•́ ₃ •̀๑

word count ☆ 1.1k

authors note ☆ hello hello! thank u so much for ur kindness 🌼 here you go! i hope you like this one just as much! if u would like anything else let me know!!

katsuki didn’t want to be part of any dumb online chat.

he hated talking for no reason. hated random people. especially hated wasting time when he could be training or doing something that mattered.

so when denki shoved his phone in his face during break and said, “bro, you gotta try this,” katsuki’s immediate response was no.

“it’s a server,” denki explained, grinning. “for, like, international hero fans. some of them are trying to get into schools like u.a. and they ask the weirdest shit.”

“not my problem.”

“c’mon. you can mess with them. they’ll lose their minds when you answer.”

“fuck off.”

but that night, katsuki couldn’t sleep. his shoulders ached from drills. his head was too loud with thoughts he didn’t want to think. and his phone, tucked under his pillow, kept buzzing with notifications from that stupid server denki added him to.

he stared at the screen for a while. thumb hovering over the app. then—he opened it.

a flood of posts. some boring. some weird. some flat-out wrong.

and then one message caught his eye.

|“so like… do students at u.a. really spar? like actually hit each other?”

the username was unfamiliar. your profile picture was a blurry sky—probably taken from your phone. and your bio just said “sleepy. always.”

he stared at your message longer than he meant to as he tried to decipher it.

then typed, slowly:

|“yes. we fight. real hits.”

a full six minutes passed.

he didn’t think you’d respond.

but you did.

|“wait WHAT. like actually?? is that even allowed???”

he snorted, eyes narrowing with a half-smile.

| “yes. is real. allowed. strong hits.”

your response came quicker this time.

| “dude! i’m american. our schools make us wear helmets to run in gym class. this is unfair.”

he let out something close to a laugh—just a small huff of breath—but it surprised him.

he didn’t answer. didn’t need to.

he already bookmarked your name.

he didn’t expect to hear from you again.

but the next night, just after dinner and before study hour, you were there.

| “hi again, explosion boy. (you got a better name?)”

he stared at the screen for a second before replying:

| “bakugo.”

| “ooh. that sounds cool. you sound cool. are you?”

he hesitated, then typed:

| “yes.”

you sent back the laughing emoji. then:

| “humble too.”

he didn’t know why it made his chest feel tight.

from there, it became… a thing.

late-night messages. voice notes. pictures.

you sent him one of your lunch—a sandwich and chips, nothing fancy—but you added,

| “i ate thinking of you. does that make me weird?”

he didn’t answer for a full hour.

then wrote:

| “no. i like that.”

you replied with a blushing emoji.

he stared at it too long.

he never liked phone calls. they were too much. too close.

but your voice was—soft. kind. playful in a way that made his chest ache.

your first voice note was just:

“hi. it’s weird hearing myself talk to you, but i wanted you to know what i sound like.”

and he listened to it.

three times.

the first time just to hear your tone. the second to understand every word. the third because… he missed it, even if it had only been a minute long.

his reply was rough. hesitant.

“hi. uh. i… don’t like talk. much. but… i like yours. voice.”

you sent back:

| “that was the sweetest thing ever, actually.”

after that, you started calling.

not every day. not long.

just enough.

he’d lie on his bed, staring at the ceiling, half-listening to your rambles about work and siblings and the weather. he didn’t talk much. didn’t know how to say all the things he was feeling in a language that always made his tongue trip.

but you didn’t mind.

you’d say, “you don’t have to talk. just stay on.”

so he did.

it happened slow.

your voice became part of his routine.

your good morning texts came while he was getting ready for class. your “i’m heading to bed, katsuki” messages always landed when he was on patrol.

you started sending pictures of things you loved. a book. your porch light. a sunset from your window.

he started sending them back.

once, he sent you a picture of his hand after training—bandaged, calloused, rough. and you wrote:

| “ i hope you rest, even when you think you don’t need it.”

and that line just… stayed.

for days.

he reread it during class. during silence. during nights when his head was too full and nothing felt steady.

he didn’t say he missed you.

but he did.

quietly. constantly.

time difference was cruel.

he hated that you were waking up when he was falling asleep.

he hated how sometimes he’d send a long message and forget what he wrote by the time you answered.

he hated how his chest twisted when he saw your name and couldn’t respond.

but you always made it easy.

“ i know you’re tired. you don’t have to talk. i just wanted to say i’m thinking of you… i’m still here. still cheering for you. always.”

you made it feel like you were closer than you were.

and yet, the space between you ached more with every week.

he didn’t notice when he fell.

not until kirishima asked him why he was smiling at his phone.

not until his chest ached when you didn’t text.

not until he caught himself learning english phrases just to tell you things the right way.

he didn’t tell anyone.

not even you.

but he sent you a voice note at midnight, after a long day, voice hoarse and quiet:

“i… i like talk to you. always. i wait for you. even when late. just so you know.”

you didn’t reply with a voice note.

you replied with a text:

| “me too, katsuki. every day.”

he didn’t sleep that night.

it came suddenly, the text message read:

| “if i ever came to japan… would you wanna meet me?”

he sat up in bed like he’d been punched.

heart pounding.

he typed.

deleted.

typed again.

finally, he sent:

| “yes. i want. i wait for you.”

and then he waited.

one hour.

then two.

you didn’t reply that night.

and he told himself it was okay.

even if it wasn’t.

two weeks.

that’s how long it took.

two weeks of silence. of almost texting you. of wondering if he’d said something wrong.

then—midnight.

his phone buzzed.

| “come outside kats <3 ”

his hands shook.

he ran.

didn’t care who saw. didn’t care that he was barefoot.

and there you were.

standing at the gate. hoodie on. suitcase by your side. scarf he mailed you wrapped around your neck.

you smiled.

“hey.”

he didn’t say anything. just stared.

you stepped forward. nervous.

“you’re taller than i thought,” you teased.

he swallowed hard. voice rough.

“you’re… real.”

you laughed. tears in your eyes.

“told you i’d come.”

the aching, the quiet missing, the longing—

and then he held you.

and everything he’d been holding in— spilled into the way he buried his face in your neck and breathed like he could finally exhale.

[botanicsoul]

Petty

College AU | Shouto Todoroki x petty!Reader

₊⊹𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

You knew what heartbreak felt like before, but betrayal? That was something else entirely.

Your hair was a mess, makeup smudged, and your mouth dry like you’d swallowed sand. You trudged into the kitchen of your college dorm expecting nothing but coffee and quiet. Instead, Mina’s voice sliced through your skull.

“God, you missed it last night! Hagakure ended up in the closet with Kirishima after spin the bottle—”

You stopped mid-pouring your coffee.

“She totally sucked him off,” Mina added, oblivious, laughing like it was no big deal. “Did not see that one coming.”

You couldn’t even breathe. The world started to blur around the edges. The words barely processed. “What?” you blinked.

“Oh yeah, it was sometime after you headed to bed…” her giggling died after seeing your reaction. “The party was starting to die down a little so a group played spin the bottle. Kami dared hagakure. Closet. Seven minutes. She sucked his dick.”

Mina glanced at you for a moment before realizing. “Wait… weren’t you crushing on him?” Crushing wasn’t the word. You’d spent months soft-liking Kirishima. Sitting close in class, joining gym sessions, sharing earbuds at study nights. Your throat burned.

The question ‘She what?’ kept playing in your head. You left before your vision could blur anymore. The worst part? You told her. Told Hagakure you liked him. That you’d been working up the courage to say something. Flirting a little more. Getting closer. She smiled through it all. “Omg do it!” she’d said. “You’d be so cute!”

She waited till you were gone to get on her knees for him.

⸻

She found you later that day, fake-innocent voice and that same chipper tone that made your stomach turn now.

“Are you mad?” she asked, walking beside you her clothes floating next to you.

You smiled. “Mad? No. I’m good.” you lied.

She smiled with a relieved look. “Great! I was just suuuuuper drunk”

Your smile got so wide it was sharp enough to slit skin. “Not like I owned him.”

And just like that, the plan wrote itself. You remembered every time she stared too long at Shouto Todoroki. The way her invisible ass always somehow ended up next to him. The giggles. The failed attempts at small talk.

And lucky you… you knew how to strike where it hurt. She might’ve been bold, might’ve made the first move when you were too shy to—but you? You were calculated. Visible. Petty enough to weaponize lust like a blade, and wield it right where she bled.

⸻

You got him slowly.

A shared bench at lunch. A casual laugh during class. Sitting just a little too close. Pretending to struggle with the homework you’d already done.

He was quiet, reserved, polite—but the flush on his cheeks didn’t lie. And when you asked, “Want to hang out after this?” He said yes.

That night, you kissed him first. Pulled him down by the collar and moaned against his mouth like he’d been yours for years.

“You sure about this?” he whispered, voice breathless as you slid into his lap on his couch, straddling him. You smirked. “Positive”

⸻

The next night—your masterpiece began.

You were sitting in his dorm,laying in his bed in nothing but one of his half-zipped hoodies, cheeks warm from the tea he made, thighs still sore from the night before. He was out grabbing a charger from a friend upstairs.

And you had his phone. Quick fingers, perfect timing.

—

6:38 PM. - “Hey, Can I borrow your chem notes? Left mine in the library. Could you just drop them at my door? Thx”

—

Send.

Door unlocked. Just barely cracked open.

You sat back down. Smiling.

⸻

7:08 PM.

Shouto’s cock was buried deep inside you.

You were riding him. Slowly. Viciously. All deliberate bounce and filthy grind, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you circled your hips. Wet, noisy, disrespectful.

“Shit,” he groaned, eyes fluttering. “You’re so—tight, fuck—”

You leaned in, breath hot in his ear. “You like watching me fall apart on you?” He moaned. He couldn’t even answer.

You were moaning shamelessly, riding him like he was the only man left on earth. Slick noises echoed off the walls, obscene and wet, your thighs shaking with every grind of your hips.

He was so deep. So thick. Every drag made you see stars. You tilted your head back, pretending to cry out from the pleasure—when really, you were listening.

His hands gripped your hips, fingers bruising, and you smiled as your rhythm stayed steady— And then the door creaked.

You didn’t stop moving. You looked. Right over your shoulder where Hagakure stood, notes in hand, frozen like a ghost just watching. Her quirk must’ve shimmered out from the shock because you saw her. Fully. Your eyes met. And you grinned.

Big. Wicked. Satisfied.

Bouncing faster now, voice dripping in pleasure and poison. “Wanna leave the notes?” you panted.

She bolted.

Shouto groaned, completely unaware. “What—was that—?” You turned his chin back toward you, nails raking down his chest. “Nothing that matters, baby,” you whispered.

And you fucked him harder—moaning loud, messy, vindicated—until you came with a cry and collapsed against his chest, skin sticky and sweat-slicked, heart thudding with perfect, evil joy.

You didn’t just win.

You burned the whole game board down.

₊⊹𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

[akeaaan]

If Only...

Jinu X fem.Reader

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this is my fourth fanfic of jinu and I'm going crazy someone stop me please. Also I'm losing ideas so if you have any request please do drop a note. I still have another idea of angst until I make some soft happy endings lol

Synopsis:

╰┈➤ If Only...

It was never supposed to happen.

You weren't supposed to feel this. To hesitate.

But fate — cruel, laughing fate — had always toyed with you, over and over again. And here you were, caught in its trap once more.

Your scythe had cut down hundreds of their kind. Demons had crumbled into dust at your feet, your blade unflinching, your heart colder each time.

But now?

Now you couldn't kill even one.

Why him?

You didn't belong in the spotlight. You hated it — the blinding lights, the staged smiles, the never-ending swarm of paparazzi. The fake interviews, the forced poses, the soul-sucking brand deals. You hated being told to be perfect.

So you stayed in the shadows, right where you belonged.

You let Huntrix shine in the public eye: Mira, Rumi, and Zoe — the idols, the faces, the voices. They danced in the light, while you hid behind soundproof glass.

You were their producer — the faceless fourth. The one who stayed up late tuning tracks, patching lyrics when writer's block hit, and crafting every beat that sealed away the honmoon. You wove magic into the melody, just like the ones before you.

Because this was tradition. Always three on the stage. Always one in the dark.

You were older than them — not by much, but enough to feel responsible. You were their unnie, their protector. You had more battle scars, more stories, more secrets. That's why they never worried when you went on solo missions.

And that was your greatest weapon: anonymity.

The demons thought there were only three.

There had always only been three — as far as they knew.

But behind every generation of Hunters, there was someone else. Someone offstage. Someone who wrote the songs, not to climb the charts, but to trap the shadows lurking in the echoes.

You didn't need powerful vocals.

You had powerful visions.

And now... your power betrayed you.

Your mind spiraled. A million thoughts screamed inside your skull.

Should I let my heart keep listening? Up 'til now I've walked the line—nothing lost, but something missing...

You had everything, didn't you?

A found family that never let go. Best friends who would die for you. Your parents—alive and well. A career that others only dreamed of.

So why... why did your chest ache like something had been carved out of it?

And then—you saw him.

That's when it clicked.

What you were missing wasn't something. It was someone. It was love.

The kind that doesn't knock politely—it breaks the door down and stands in your ruined threshold.

You cursed yourself, quietly, for saying yes to Bobby.

"Come on," he had begged, "You've got the lightest schedule. Just help us set up the fan sign?"

And because you were you—softhearted, capable, and impossibly easy to guilt-trip—you agreed.

Even went the extra mile.

You planned the whole event. Stayed up finalizing logistics. Then told the rest of the staff to clock out early and go home to their families.

Now here you were. Alone in the quiet morning, taping up last-minute signage outside the venue.

You were halfway through unfurling a tarp when you spotted them—four bundled shapes huddled in sleeping bags along the curb.

"...Idiots," you muttered, frowning. Fans like these were rare and reckless. Sleeping outside just to be first in line for autographs?

You shook your head and kept working—until one of them stirred. One pulled back his hood and stood, dusting off the creases from his shirt.

That's when you saw him.

Eyes still puffy from sleep. Hair a soft, tousled black. That calm, unreadable face framed by the dawn's early light.

Back then, you had no idea who he was.

You'd been off the grid for days. Locked in the studio producing songs for idols you barely knew. Huntrix had been hunting without you. You hadn't checked socials in a week.

So when he stepped forward and said—

"Uh... can I use the bathroom?"

—you didn't even blink. Just sighed, rolled your eyes, and jerked your head toward the venue.

"This way."

No thanks. No recognition. He simply nodded and followed.

You didn't think much of it. You were too busy—back to climbing a wobbly stool to hang the tarpaulin behind were the girls will be sitting .

Balancing on tiptoe, gripping the thin banner with cold fingers.

Until a quiet voice called behind you:

"You know, that thing's totally uneven."

You didn't have to look to know it was him.

"And you're going to fall if you keep shifting like that."

You gritted your teeth. "I'm fine."

"You're not," he said flatly. "At least let me help."

You finally glanced down—and your heart skipped. He was already walking toward you. Calm. Composed. His face unreadable, but his hand was outstretched, palm open like he already knew you'd take it.

You didn't.

And in that split-second—of course—you slipped.

"Shit—" you hissed as your balance gave out and gravity claimed you. The ground rushed up too fast. You braced, eyes squeezing shut, waiting for the sharp slam of wood against your back—

But it never came.

Instead, strong arms wrapped around your waist, halting your fall mid-air like it was nothing.

Your breath caught.

Slowly, you cracked one eye open—then the other.

There he was.

Smug. Too close. Too confident.

That crooked smirk on his lips practically screamed "told you so."

His dark eyes flicked over your face, glittering with something unreadable—maybe amusement, maybe something else entirely. The hold on your waist tightened just slightly, grounding you in his grip.

He was close. Too close.

You could feel his breath against your mouth. Hear the steady, unbothered rhythm of his heart. And yours—yours was stammering like it didn't know what to do with itself.

He tilted his head a little. "You always this stubborn?"

You swallowed hard. "You always this annoying?"

His smirk widened—but his eyes softened, just barely. "Only when I'm right."

Later that afternoon, the event hall buzzed with energy—fans lined up, banners waving, cameras flashing. But your focus narrowed sharply when your eyes caught a familiar face.

Him.

He was back, but not alone this time. He stood upfront at the signing table with a few others you recognized from earlier—those same guys who'd been in the sleeping bags back at the entrance. And now they were freshen up, styled, and posing as if they belonged.

The Saja Boys.

You stood stiffly near a concrete pillar, arms crossed, trying to keep your face neutral. Rumi, Mira, and Zoe exchanged less-than-thrilled glances. No one had told you this was going to be a joint fan sign. The Huntrix event you had personally organized—put your own hours into, from venue to logistics—was now sharing space with a brand new K-pop boy group?

Your eye twitched.

You caught sight of him again, seated right next to Rumi. They were speaking quietly, heads close. Something about the way he leaned in, relaxed but confident, made your skin prickle.

"Do they know each other?" you murmured to no one in particular.

You flagged down one of the event staff, your voice firm. "Who approved the seating chart? Who is that?"

She gave you a sheepish smile, clearly overwhelmed. "Oh—uh, that's Jinu. He's the leader of the Saja Boys.

Your stomach dropped.

Leader? Of course he is.

As if on cue, Jinu glanced up from the table and locked eyes with you across the venue. Recognition flickered instantly in his gaze—and then he smiled.

That same maddening, devastatingly charming smile from earlier. The one that said he knew exactly what he was doing.

You didn't bother looking back.

The moment you stepped off and slipped behind the black curtains marking the backstage area, it was like you could finally breathe again. The air felt less heavy away from the flashing cameras, squealing fans, and—most of all—him. You paced for a second, then stopped by a corner to scroll through your phone, pretending to be invested in it. Anything to not think about the way your stomach twisted when he was near.

The distant noise of the crowd faded just enough for you to hear footsteps. Lazy, heavy, tired ones. You looked up.

It was Jinu—of course it was. He stood a few feet away, sharp eyes unreadable beneath dyed bangs, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, the rest of the Saja boys passed by in a blur of exhaustion—Abby tossing his bouquet dramatically into a trash bin, Mystery yawning, Baby leaning heavily on Romance's shoulder as they all disappeared toward the van.

But Jinu? He was the only one who didn't just throw the bouquet in. He placed it gently—deliberately—on top of the pile. A folded piece of paper stayed clutched in his other hand, something he didn't discard. A letter from a fan, maybe. Or something else.

You glanced back down at your phone. He didn't leave.

"So what are you to them?" he asked, voice smooth, slightly amused. "Their manager? Event organizer?"

You looked up again. He was staring at you, head slightly tilted, brows raised in quiet challenge. The others were gone now—just the two of you. You squared your stance.

"I'm their producer," you replied flatly, folding your arms. Cool. Professional.

Jinu's lips tugged into a half-smirk as he slowly folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket. "And you planned the fan event too? Damn. All in one, huh?"

He took a few slow steps in your direction, casual but not aimless. Calculated.

"I'm a perfectionist," you said simply, holding his gaze.

"Mm. Figures," he said, voice lower now as he closed the distance just a little more, eyes scanning your face. "You've got that look. Like nothing ever passed by you."

There was something in the way he said it—less teasing, more observant. He didn't mean just the event.

You looked away first.

You always did.

And ever since that day, your lives kept tangling—deliberate or not. Jinu always seemed to be just a few steps behind you. Or ahead of you. Or waiting.

There was something about the way he smiled—just a little too slow, a little too soft. The way his eyes held yours longer than they should've, almost as if memorizing the shape of your face each time. And then there was the way his gaze would flick down to your lips before rising back to your eyes, like a secret only he knew.

It wasn't just glances. It was tension. Thick and charged, like static before a storm.

The day he reached out—his hand resting on your waist to move you gently aside in the crowded idol common room—it felt like something clicked into place. The contact lingered. Not enough to raise suspicion, but just enough to make your breath catch.

Then there were the late-night run-ins. The 24-hour convenience store closest to your apartment, where you'd both pretend surprise even though you frequented it around the same hour. That time he "accidentally" found you working late in the studio, hunched over your laptop, trying to produce a new track under deadline.

"I didn't know anyone else was here," he'd said. But his voice didn't match the words. It was too calm. Too knowing.

Neither of you made the first move right away. But one night, you both stopped pretending.

Your lips met—slow, hesitant at first, then hungry. The kiss tasted like everything you'd both been holding back. Like the first breath after drowning.

And somehow, it felt like more than just a kiss. It felt like a beginning. A fragile, burning beginning.

You were falling for him. And he was falling too.

But then you heard it.

A conversation behind closed doors—Huntrix voices lowered in warning, laced with urgency. Jinu's name. A word you weren't meant to hear.

Demon.

Your heart plummeted like it had been cut loose from your chest.

Enemy.

And now, here you stood—frozen in place, suffocating beneath the weight of everything you knew and everything you felt. Love, twisted with betrayal. Warmth, laced with danger.

I can't decide what's wrong, what's right... Which way should I go?

The lyrics echoed in your mind, torn from a memory you couldn't quite silence. A song that once comforted you—now mocking your indecision.

Your scythe's blade hovered dangerously close to Jinu's neck. Your hands trembled, not from fear, but from fury barely contained. Your jaw locked as your blurred vision clung to the shape of him. The boy you used to trust. The demon he became.

Jinu didn't move. Didn't even raise his eyes to meet yours at first.

The wind whispered across the rooftop ledge, catching the hem of his jacket and brushing through your hair like some ghost trying to push you apart. He let out a slow breath, and when he finally looked at you, it wasn't with defiance.

It was guilt. Heavy. Real. Like he'd been carrying it for lifetimes.

"I never wanted you to find out like this," he said quietly, voice low and raw.

Your grip tightened on the scythe's handle. The curved blade shimmered under the moonlight, inches from his skin.

"You lied to me," you hissed, each word heavy like it cost you something to speak them aloud. "All this time. You were one of them."

Jinu lowered his gaze again. "Four hundred years is a long time to regret something."

"Don't you dare make this poetic," you snapped. "You could've told me. You let me care about you—trust you—when you knew what you were."

He didn't defend himself. Just stood there, letting your anger land where it may.

"I'm still me," he finally said, barely louder than the wind. "Even if the past is monstrous... I never stopped being me when I was with you."

Silence stretched. Your blade didn't waver, but your heart did

You didn't know when the tears started to fall—only that they burned on the way down.

All this time, you thought he was your safe place. The quiet in the chaos. But now... now he was the very storm you'd been trying to survive.

Jinu stepped forward—slowly, cautiously, like he was approaching a wounded animal. Like he knew one wrong move would shatter everything.

"You're right," he said softly. "I should've told you. I should've let you hate me from the beginning. But I didn't want to lose you before I ever had the chance to keep you."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, half-choked and broken. "So instead you let me love a lie?"

He flinched.

The scythe dropped from your hands with a metallic thud against the rooftop. You couldn't hold it anymore. Couldn't hold anything anymore. Not the rage. Not the love. Not the grief curling inside your ribs like fire.

"I don't know if I'll ever forgive you," you whispered.

Jinu looked like he wanted to speak, but the words never came. Maybe there weren't any left that could fix this.

And maybe... that was the point.

You turned away from him, the wind now at your back. The skyline blurred through your tears, the city below indifferent to the war inside your chest.

Behind you, Jinu didn't move. Maybe he knew chasing you would only make it worse.

Maybe he knew he'd already lost.

Your voice broke the silence one last time, barely above a breath:

"If only I knew what my heart was telling me... Don't know what I'm feeling, is this just a dream?"

And then you were gone— leaving Jinu standing alone beneath the stars, with nothing but regret and the sound of your fading footsteps.

[heartyluv]

Not the same anon that originally requested this, but I absolutely loved your fic where Zayne and Sylus react to you saying you want to be the first to die. The way you wrote their reactions was perfect and wonderful to read, and (if you’re interested, of course) I’d love to see how the other three guys would also reply to such a statement c:

I only recently found your account and I can’t wait to read through more of your works <3

Note: I’m so happy that you enjoyed and even more so that you’re considering reading more. It makes me super happy. I’m really hoping I wrote Xavier and Rafayel accurately. I’m kinda nervous about theirs, but I hope you enjoy, luvly!

Warning: Mentions of Xavier in an accident, Mentions of Caleb dying (THEY ARE OKAY!!!)

Link to Zayne and Sylus’ <3

Creds to @/enchanthings-a for the divider!

Rafayel

You were elated when your boyfriend invited you over for a little date in his studio. Of course you said yes, because not only is Rafayel hard to say no to, but his studio is one of your favorite places to be.

It’s where you feel your safest to create, and it’s not just about painting. You draw, color, and even write poetry when you’re there. You completely understood what he meant when he told you that the energy in this place was so empowering because you’ve experienced it first hand.

As you and he work on your own respective projects side by side, he starts telling you about how he recently rewatched Romeo and Juliet. You listened intently, even if you already knew the story. But it was as he told it that you found yourself growing slightly emotional.

The story is something almost everyone is familiar with, whether they learned it in school or took it upon themselves to read it on their own time.

The story of two people loving each other so much and so hard that it kills them, because the mere thought of them not being alive to experience life with you, build a stronger love with you, makes nothing else feel worth it—it’s incredibly heartbreaking. And now that you have a boyfriend, the sentiment is much heavier. The thought of Rafayel dying, stirs a pain so uncomfortable in your chest that you know never, ever want to experience it.

“Hey,” he calls to you gently, noticing how dazed out you seemed. He sees the tears forming right above your waterline when you face him, and immediate concern is etched across his ethereal face.

“Let me guess? It makes you cry too?” he teases, gently rubbing your cheek and smearing a faint light blue paint on your skin. “I’m not ashamed to say that I succumb to the emotions every time myself. I don’t trust anyone who doesn’t.”

But when you don’t laugh, when your lower lip quivers the more you memorize his features like he’ll disappear, he began to realize this has become something he needs to take a little more seriously.

“Did I say something wrong?” he asks innocently, completely dumbfounded by your change in emotions.

“I’m so sorry,” you finally speak, your words fumbling out as you wipe the tears from your eyes. You feel embarrassed, but you know better than to feel that way around him. He always makes sure you know that embarrassment will never be a real thing between you two. Nothing is off-limits. “It just…the story. It makes me think of you—of us.”

He tilts his head, his soft purple hair swaying across his forehead. “Oh? What do you mean?”

You sigh, taking a deep breath as you get ready to lay your little heart out on the table like you’ve done for him dozens of times.

“Rafayel, I legitimately cannot lose you,” you emphasize, feeling your heart thump harder in your chest from intense emotions. Your voice is shaky as you continue. “And I know this is so random and I didn’t mean to make you telling me about your movie night into a whole thing, but the thought of me experiencing anything in this life without you makes me..sick. It would break me. It makes me realize that I have to be the first one to go the day our time on this Earth is up.”

He smiles softly as you, cupping your cheek in his hand. “Have you seen how I act when you take more than five extra minutes to come home?”

That makes you laugh, a joyous feeling sparking in your being. Most people dislike anyone who turns something serious into something lighthearted, but your Raf always has a way of making heavy situations and conversations feel weightless.

“But in all seriousness,” his face shifts to match his tone to let you know that he takes your worries and thoughts seriously. “I don’t want to hear you talk like that. Ever. You know why?” He stands from his stool, walking to stand between your leg where you sit. “Because we are never going to be apart. I’ve already told you before, you’re not allowed to leave me.” He winks, making the tension ease.

“I’d swim across every ocean for you a million times over. For a man like me to find and experience the love of someone more glorious than himself, it’s not a privilege I take for granted. I’ve always been Rafayel, but I can admit that I will always be a better him, with you beside me. You add too much value and good to my life for you to ever think that I could actually survive without you. I can deal with a lot, but a world with no you? That’s too harsh.”

He presses his forehead to yours. “You have nothing to worry about. I feel just as intensely as you do, pretty girl. I don’t want you thinking of what could be. Think of everything in between, yeah?”

He leans down to kiss your lips and you desperately cling to him. “You’ll never lose me and l’ll never lose you, fair?”

You chuckle, knowing that conversations like this make his heart hurt, too. Similarly to you, your boyfriend hates the idea of abandonment or being separated from you for any reason. He doesn’t take the idea of it lightly. But when he needs to be stronger for you, there’s nothing powerful enough to crush his will to protect your heart.

“Fair,” you nod with a smile.

“Good. I’m glad we understand each other.” He kisses your nose. “Now, why don’t we go for a walk on the beach? We can see about getting something sweet on the way.” He holds his hand out to you and when you slide your hand into his, you know that no matter what the further holds, thinking of what you have now will always be more important.

Xavier

You almost had a heart attack when the hospital called you to let you know that your boyfriend has been in a car accident. They assured you it wasn’t serious, but the only person you’ve ever loved and accident being in the same sentence, made you experience emotions you never thought you were capable of.

They said he couldn’t have called you himself since he was going through some tests and check ups, but not being able to hear his voice made you feel…insane.

When you ran into the hospital, begging for his name and room number, a nurse walked you to him with too much ease. You needed her to be faster, much faster.

“He’s right there. Room 410,” the lady politely smiles. You can’t bother with kindness, moving past her and rushing into the room. He’s sitting on a hospital bed, his blood pressure being checked by the doctor standing beside him.

“Hon,” he says with slightly wide eyes. “I guess the hospital called you.”

“Xavier, oh my god,” you cry, running towards him. You cup his face in your hands, running your eyes over him like your scan is better than a doctor’s. “Are you in pain? How’s your head? Your body?” His eyes stay on you the whole time as you examine him, the doctor chuckling softly beside you both.

All you smell is alcohol, rubber gloves, and oversaturated—but necessary—cleanliness. You don’t like him here. You don’t like it one bit.

“You’re free to go home,” the doctor confirms. “Just make sure you take the pain medicine if you need it. Other than that, nothing to worry about.”

When the doctor leaves, you finally weep. You thought the absolute worst. You thought you lost him.

“I was so scared,” you cry, resting your head on his shoulder as his hands comes to the back of your head to soothe you. “What happened?”

“The taxi I was taking to come see you…A car came out of nowhere down the intersection on a red light, and it was a hard collision against the backseat area where I sat. I saw it last minute before I was able to move, just barely.”

“Xavier… I..” you trail off, not even wanting to finish. “I can’t lose you, Xav. I would rather die than lose you.”

“You don’t mean that,” he says gently, his hand going down your back.

“I do. I can’t live without you. We can’t control how it ends, but however it does, you can never be the one to go first. I’ll never survive it.”

“And neither would I,” he asserts. “A life without you is a life I don’t care to have. Losing you is essentially the death of me.” It falls silent between you two as he makes you pull back to look at him.

“How about this? How about both of us make it a point to be present for as long as we can. Like you said, while we can’t control the end, we can control what our current reality is. And that’s you and I together, loving each other, being here for each other.”

You nod, melting into his touch as he wipes your stray tears. “Don’t say things like that though, okay? Even in extreme situations as concerning as this. I don’t like to think of anything happening to you just as much as you don’t like it for me. Your life is too important to me for you to say anything so drastic over yourself.”

“You’re right,” you sniffle, making it a point to kiss him again—this time extra hard. “I won’t, I swear. But YOU,” you point a finger at his chest. “You’re not allowed to leave the house for the next…forever!”

He smiles, kissing your hand then pulling you close again to kiss the side of your neck. “I’m sure you’ll make sure of that?”

You run your hand through his hair, giggling as he sporadically places kisses wherever his lips will land. “You can count on it.”

Caleb

You shot out of your sleep, your heart racing and your body dampened with a thin sheen of sweat. Cold wet tears fall down your cheeks and you quickly wipe them away, not liking how they feel on your skin. You blink tiredly in the dark bedroom, looking over to where Caleb is supposed to be. Not only was he not there, but it was cold when you placed your palm against the bed. He’s been gone awhile.

You had another nightmare. For some reason, they’ve been plaguing you more and more lately, their origin not making sense when the events occur in your sleep state. But this one, this was the worst by far.

The imagery of Caleb dead. Shot and killed. It replayed over and over until your mind finally won the right battle, letting you wake up to see your reality. But the fact that Caleb wasn’t beside you, it made you panic.

You threw the blankets back, put your slippers on, and exited the bedroom to search for him. You wouldn’t allow that dream to make you think it was real, that he was actually gone. You refused.

He wasn’t hard to find at all though, sitting in his hobby room, putting together another aircraft set he collected. He heard the door open, turning around to see you. He smiled widely, turning fully in his office chair. You didn’t waste a moment more, walking up to him briskly. He pressed his head to your stomach, kissing it tenderly before looking up at you.

“Why aren’t you in bed?” you question softly.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he shrugs. “Didn’t wanna wake you, so I just came to mess with this.” He sees the sadness on your face, the dewdrop tears that rested on your lashes that you didn’t wipe away when he looks up.

“You’ve been crying?” he stands immediately, ready to handle whatever has his girl in distress. “What happened?”

You try to smile the sadness away, but you see it all over again. You rest your forehead on his chest, your body shaking as you silently cry. You understand that it’s okay—normal, to be emotional about something like this, but you feel like no one will ever get it unless they’ve experienced it. His death… it felt so vivid. It makes your whole body ache.

“I had a nightmare,” you weep, trying to push it out. “That you died, Caleb. It felt so real…I had to make sure. And when you weren’t in bed I…”

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” he whispers, kissing your head before wrapping his arms around you. You press your hands to his back, pressing close just to make sure he’s real.

“I’d die without you, Caleb. I wouldn’t be able to survive…” You choke on your sobs. “I’d rather it be me than you, every time. You don’t understand.”

“Never,” he says sharply, but not to cut. Just to make his point abundantly clear. “Death is never an option for you, do you understand me?” He’s stern, holding your face in his hands.

“I do understand what it’s like to love someone with your whole being, so much so that you can’t differentiate what’s you and what’s them because you’re so intertwined. It’s why I will never let you put me above you. Ever. Because you are what makes me. There is nothing for me if you’re gone.”

You only cry harder, trying to wipe the scene away from your brain and embrace this moment and all the good ones that’ll follow one day.

“I don’t want you to ever speak over yourself like that again. No matter what’s troubling you, causing you pain, rather than wishing it would happen in another way that would only bring you harm, just tell me about it so I can deal with the brunt of it. I’m meant to protect you, let me do that.”

You nod, letting him ease your overwhelming emotions. “I’m sorry,” you say meekly. “Can we go to bed, please? Together?”

“You don’t even need to ask. C’mon.”

He takes your hand, not pushing for details on the dream or the particulars. He’d never imagine making you relive something so traumatizing, even if it was fake. It was real enough to actually hurt you, and that was enough for him to make sure he comforts you to the best of his abilities because you in any type of pain is something he has always vowed to keep you safe from.

[kilesplaysthings]

how the boys would react when you have a migraine

ngl i'm a little apprehensive about this one lol and it got LONG o.o Sylus is the fandom's darling, it seems, so i hope i wrote him well ^^;

Xavier | Rafayel | Zayne | Sylus | Caleb

Part IV: Sylus (you/MC x Sylus)

It had been an entire week since you started having one of the worst migraines you'd had in a long time. You did get them every so often, but it had been a while since one had lasted this long. You'd done your best to combat it with medication and sleeping in a cool, dark room, but none of your usual methods worked. It just seemed to be a migraine you had to suffer through. By the end of the week, you'd decided to call off of work for a day to rest. Your migraine was beginning to wear off, but you were utterly exhausted. You felt like you'd run a marathon; either that or gotten hit by a truck.

You were so thankful it was finally the weekend coming up. Since you took the day off of work, you had three days to hide away and sleep for hours on end. Hopefully, you'd be up to going back to work next week.

The lights were off, the AC was down in the low 60s, and you were ready to burrow yourself into the blankets and cut off all contact with the outside world until Monday. Before you were able to surrender yourself to slumber, your phone went off. A glance at the screen indicated it was none other than your boyfriend trying to call you.

"Yes, Sylus?" You answered. It was only mid-afternoon. You were surprised he was awake at this hour.

"I just received a notification from Mephisto," he remarked. "He said you didn't go into work today."

You shook your head, smiling wryly. "Keepin' tabs on me, huh?"

"You know I'm always watching over you, sweetie," he replied with a low laugh. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Sylus always seemed to be in tune with you when something was amiss, and he always checked to make sure everything was all right. The two of you valued honesty in your relationship, so you told him right away about your awful migraine.

"It's been going on for the whole week and nothing's helping. I'm wiped out." You heaved a deep sigh.

"What are you doing right now?" He asked.

"Not a thing," you answered. "Just lying in bed."

"Are you up for a drive?"

You thought about it for a moment. Your migraine was wearing off by now; it was just a mild, dull ache at this point. More than anything else, you were just fatigued.

"It's all right if you're not," he said when you hesitated.

"No, I think I'll be fine as long as we're just driving in a car, but I don't think I'd be much use for anything else," you told him.

"Don't worry. I promise it will be very relaxing, what I have planned."

Your eyebrows rose up in surprise. "You're planning something? What is it?"

"You'll find out soon enough. I'll be there in about ten minutes."

"Do I have to dress up?" You asked, worried. You really hoped whatever he had prepared wasn't anything too fancy.

"Wear whatever you want, kitten."

The call ended shortly after that. You sat up in bed and looked down at yourself. At the moment, you were in your pajamas. Sylus said you could wear whatever you wanted, so you were going to do just that. At this point, you couldn't care less if he saw you looking like a slob.

You threw on a tshirt, sweats and a hoodie. A pair of slip-on sneakers completed the look. You didn't want to bother with your hair, so you just pulled it back into a bun, and of course, makeup was totally out of the question. However, you did wash your face to freshen up.

You felt your phone vibrate in your hoodie pocket and saw that he texted you:

"I'm here."

When you opened the door, sure enough, there he was in all his 6'2 glory. He gave you a warm smile.

"Hey there, aren't you a sight for sore eyes," you found yourself saying, unable to help the little feeling of glee that ran through you at the sight of him. You'd been together for a while by now, but he still gave you butterflies. Being so tired and achy was probably also a part of your reaction to seeing him. You'd missed him.

He chuckled. "Good to see you too. How are you feeling? Tired?"

You worked up a small smile. "Yeah, but I'll live. This is the best I could do right now," you said, nodding to your outfit. "'S that okay?"

"Of course." His deep voice was gentle, and he reached for your hand. "Come."

You were more than happy to place your hand in his larger one. He kept you close as you both left the apartment, went down the elevator and out of the building. His sleek, black car was parked out front by the entrance. Sylus opened the passenger door for you before he got in on the driver's side. Once you were seated, you noticed the car windows were tinted, most likely to shield you from any aggravating light.

"How's the air?" Sylus asked as he started the car. "Too cold? Too hot?"

You shook your head. "It's fine. I'm comfortable."

"Good." He placed his hand on the back of your neck, massaging it gently with his thumb. "Close your eyes and lay your head back if you want to rest some more."

He pressed a button, and your seat began to recline. You were happy to do as he suggested, feeling quite relaxed, especially when the car began to move. You felt like a restless, sick child, lulled into a peaceful sleepiness from the motion of the vehicle.

The ride lasted for probably twenty minutes or so. When you felt the car come to a stop, you opened your eyes. Sylus was parking in front of an elegant looking building surrounded by flowery hedges and some trees. A sign near the front door indicated that Sylus had taken you to a Spa with a sauna. Your eyes widened.

"A spa?" You exclaimed.

He smirked. "I thought this weary kitten could use some pampering."

He got out of the car and went over to open the door for you.

"You made an appointment for me?" To say you were stunned would be an understatement.

"For us," he corrected. "I though a massage would do me some good."

You giggled. "Oh, I see. You just wanted an excuse to get pampered yourself, I bet."

He huffed a little and smiled, amused. "Think whatever you like. All that matters is that I get to see you smiling like that again."

His sweet words made you blush a little. You grabbed his hand and pulled him along to go inside the building. The secretary at the front desk greeted you with a smile and pulled up the reservation that was under Sylus's name. She checked you both in and led you to a smaller room where you could relax on a couch while you waited for your masseuse. This room was quiet with soft music playing in the background. It was lit with warm lamp light and the soothing smell of essential oils wafted from a nearby diffuser. You were feeling relaxed already.

When it was your turn for the couple's massages, the lady who would treat you called your names. Sylus had ordered a full body couple's massage, complete with facials and aromatherapy. It was the full package, and you decided not to even try to contemplate how much it cost.

Once you were both disrobed, you were asked to lie down on your stomachs on two comfortable beds. You were given towels to cover your more private areas. The lady massaging you focused on your upper back, neck, head and forehead. You had a feeling Sylus had recommended those areas for you specifically.

"How is it?" He asked as you both had your backs massaged. You barely registered his question, nearly asleep.

"Feels amazing," you muttered. You didn't notice the soft smile that came over his face.

"Good."

Once the massage was over, he suggested you both relax in the sauna. As the steam filled up the small room, you leaned against Sylus, resting your head on his shoulder.

"I feel much better," you murmured. You felt his hand rub your upper back around your shoulder blades.

"Then my plan worked perfectly."

"Sylus," you said, looking up at him, "thanks so much. This really helped."

"Of course, sweetie." He leaned in to kiss your cheek.

"Can I stay with you tonight?" You asked after a minute of peaceful silence.

He laughed a little. "You don't need to ask. I was going to suggest it anyway."

You both showered and prepared to leave the spa, with plans to spend the night at one of his houses nearby. By now it was early evening and Sylus assured you dinner would be taken care of by a chef he employed. As the two of you waited for the meal to be prepared, you relaxed on the couch together in front of a lit fireplace.

You were resting on top of him, your head on his broad chest. The sound of his beating heart against your ear was soothing, so much so that you were fighting the urge to fall asleep again.

"Sy, I just want to say, thank you again. You don't know how much these last couple of hours meant to me," you told him quietly, while absently stroking his side.

"You really don't need to thank me, kitten. After all, it was enjoyable for me, too."

You knew he was joking and poked his cheek, peering up at him. "Regardless, I'm so grateful to have such a caring boyfriend like you. What do you say to making this a regular thing? I think spa dates with you would be fun!"

A pleased smile spread over his face, and he stroked your hair. Gazing into your eyes, he said, "I'll look forward to the next time, then."

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hi! I hope you’re doing well and have a nice day, you deserve it with all the amazing stories you have written. I love the way you write villain characters so much. Can I request a story between a villain x sidekick/ someone who works on their side? Your wrote the conflict feelings when the hero falls for the villain so well, I’m curious to see how you explore a relationship where the villain falls for someone who he doesn’t have to hide/ compromise his ideas for? No pressure tho!

"Have you considered," the villain said, "chasing after someone who isn't your boss?"

"Is that a request or order for me to stop?"

The villain considered their sidekick for a moment, at that. They were a bright young thing, as sidekicks so often were. Beautiful and powerful and eager to sink their teeth in the world and leave all the bloody marks of a legacy. Passion-sparkling. Not yet tired. Their fury still a forest fire.

The villain should have said yes. Stop. It was the only smart thing. The only reasonable thing. Bright young things should be with other bright young things, and if they were chasing something else it was probably a trap.

At their silence, their sidekick smiled. Quick and pleased and more confident than the villain ever remembered being at that age. They took a step closer in the villain's study, stepping in between the villain's legs, looming.

"I think you like being chased, boss," their sidekick said.

The villain raised an eyebrow, glad their face betrayed nothing of their pounding heart. "I think I like escaping heroes and leaving them looking stupid."

"Deflection."

"Truth."

"Truth can be a deflection. You taught me that."

Despite themselves, the villain's lips twitched in a smile. "Did I."

"Do you want a truth?"

"I think you're better at lying."

"True," the sidekick said shamelessly. "I think you're the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen."

The villain swallowed. They willed their face not to flush. By the way their sidekick's eyes lit up, they suspected they failed. Their sidekick leaned in, they pressed the advantage, just as the villain had bloody taught them. Their hands settled on the arms of the villain's chair, as if the villain was someone who could be bracketed in and caged.

"I think," the sidekick said, "that you go for what you want. So it's curious that you deny yourself me. Normally I'd be flattered to be an exception, but in this case..."

"You think I want you?"

"I have eyes. Tell me you don't. Make it convincing."

"Now who's giving who orders?"

The sidekick's smile turned to a grin. Feral. The villain wanted to bite it, kiss it, claim it. It was delightful. They wet their lips and there was a giddy thrill to the way the sidekick's eyes followed the movement.

Of course, the sidekick, and most of the world, always followed the villain's every movement. Just in case.

"Obviously," the villain said, "I want you. That doesn't make kissing my mentee, my employee, a good idea. I have - power over you."

"Oh, do you? Does a person like you have power? Gosh. I hadn't noticed."

"Brat."

"Boss." The sidekick's hands inched closer, dragging tantalising up the villain's thighs.

The villain should have shoved them away, but once again they held damningly still. Once again, the sidekick rewarded them with that smile.

"I don't want to take advantage of you," the villain said.

"I would love for you to take advantage of me, so is it really taking advantage? I'm not a child. I know my own mind. You're the one taught me I should go after what you want."

"Did I."

"Uhuh." The sidekick pouted at them, eyes glinting with mischief. "No takesie-backsies just because you never imagined I'd want you."

The villain's breath hitched.

Why do you want me was an absurd question to ask? The villain knew all the reasons that people chased them. Power, connection, the things the villain could give. To stop them, to own them, to ruin them.

Their sidekick's eyes spoke nothing of those things. Their mouth, when it finally descended on the villain's, promised only sweetness. Only desire. Only things that the villain had never thought they'd be able to have again, because it was lonely at the top for a reason.

"I considered chasing after someone else, sure," the sidekick whispered, "but you're the one I want. So let's not make a good thing more complicated then it has to be, yeah?"

It was a bad idea. A terrible idea. A reckless idea, of the sort that the villain hadn't allowed themselves to indulge in a long time.

And, yet, the villain grabbed a fistful for the sidekick's hair and reeled them in to kiss them. Again, and again, and again.

Their sidekick was right, after all.

The villain always got what they wanted in the end.

[i-messed-up-big-time]

Lonely Birthday - Rafayel

Rafayel x Non Mc/Reader

a/n: me when i have way too many ideas and end up pushing the other ones to the back burner. this is rafayel's part to the lonely birthday series i was doing, first part is xavier's! will also be including caleb too since when i first wrote xavier's it was pre-caleb.

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

Tags: angst, happy ending, female pronouns, reader is not MC, female pronouns, cursing, use of pet names (baby)

word count: 3.3k

masterlist

Xavier Zayne Sylus Caleb

Rafayel

You and Rafayel had been dating for a year but had been friends for well over 3 years.

He was the one to ask you out and it was simply perfect, he had set up his house for a cute little romantic evening where you two had a candlelit dinner with your favourite dish, night painting on the beach, and then ended it off with watching the sun rise before heading back inside to sleep.

Rafayel had always managed to make you feel so loved and appreciated.

So where did it go wrong?

You loved celebrating birthdays, whether it was yours or someone else's. It was a day worth celebrating, a day meant just for you.

You always gave more than you received, but it never mattered because seeing the joy on other people's faces was more than enough for you.

Then Rafayel came along and showed you what it meant to also be on the receiving end, to be important to someone and not just be the floater friend.

He taught you self worth, but more importantly he taught you how wonderful it was to be someone's priority.

But then she walked into his life.

You were never the jealous type, always respectful of the friendships that Rafayel had outside of your relationship, but something in you had settled the seeds of doubt, and a woman's intuition was never wrong.

●・○・●・○・●・

You and Rafayel had been planning this birthday date for a couple of months now. You both planned to go to the aquarium for a lunch surrounded by the cute sea creatures, after that you had tickets booked to watch the latest instalment of your favourite movie series followed by a light dinner at home and a surprise that Rafayel had planned, one that he would refuse to tell you no matter how much you probed.

Unfortunately, the weeks leading up to your birthday were nothing but anxiety filled. Lately, Rafayel has been hanging out with his new bodyguard more often than you'd like to acknowledge.

You were never one to police who he can and can't hang out with, but there was just something about her and the way he acted around her that had you feeling insecure, but you'd rather not admit that out loud.

Every time you guys spent time together it was always 'Miss Bodyguard this' or 'Miss Bodyguard that,' it got to a point where you had to subtly point it out as to not come off as a jealous or controlling girlfriend.

And it worked, for a day.

You had called Rafayel the day before your birthday to confirm that your plans were still happening.

"Yeah, yeah don't worry cutie. I'll be there."

You felt a bit of relief when he said yes, but it didn't last too long.

You felt that ugly feeling of jealousy and doubt creep up on you multiple times throughout the day, you tried your hardest to not let it cloud your mind and ruin your birthday before it even started.

You should've just listened to that gut feeling.

●・○・●・○・●・

It was the morning of your birthday, you had woken up feeling less than refreshed. You had been tossing and turning all night, the feeling of unease never leaving as the time kept passing by.

You checked your phone and spotted quite a few birthday messages from your friends, but you didn't see one from Rafayel.

You knew he spent most of his nights awake, and he would never miss the chance to be the first one to wish you at midnight.

You pushed down that feeling of disappointment and decided to start your day with a little pick-me-up treat. Since you were planning on visiting your favourite café, you decided to dress up— that way you would be ready for your lunch date as well.

You spent a few hours at the café, taking cute pictures of yourself and the goodies that you bought. Soon it was time to head over the aquarium. You trusted Rafayel when he said he would be there, he never really gave you a reason not to.

Getting to the aquarium, you settled on a bench nearby the entrance waiting for Rafayel to show up. An hour passed by and it was nearing the time for your lunch reservation. You gave him a quick ring only for it to go straight to voicemail, trying a few more times only to get the same result.

You assumed his phone had died and hoped he was on his way. You decided it was better for you to wait inside at the table, that way your reservation wouldn't be cancelled.

The setting was beautiful, there was only a limited amount of tables all under a dome of glass where the marine life swam above you. Colours of blue made the whole thing feel so scenic and calm.

Sitting at your table you snapped a few pics of your surroundings and decided to order some appetizers, that way by the time they came Rafayel would already be here.

You waited, and waited— and then waited some more, but two hours had passed and Rafayel didn't show up.

You were worried, and just as you were ready to call him again for the umpteenth time, your eye spotted a moments notification from her.

You don't know what compelled you to open it, but you did. You could almost hear the sound of your heart shattering.

There, on her moments post, was Rafayel with his arms wrapped around her waist and a beautiful necklace that glimmered like light reflecting on a waters surface sitting delicately around her neck. It was captioned, 'When your cute boss surprises you with a beautiful gift and planned a whole day of fun for your birthday!'

It was insane how her birthday just happened to be the same day as yours.

Before you even realized it, you were crying. You quickly gathered yourself together and settled the bill, not missing the way everyone who looked at you had pity in their eyes.

Rushing out of the aquarium you beelined it home, not wanting to be around anyone.

When you finally reached the confines of your home you let it all out, collapsing near the door you sobbed until your voice was hoarse and there were no more tears left to cry.

Forcing yourself off the floor, you decided to take a hot shower and change into something more comfortable.

Your shower ended up being longer than you expected it to be, round 2 of yours tears started and you sat with your knees against your chest as the hot water fell from above.

You didn't notice how much time had passed while you were in the shower. The only thing that did get you out was the fact that you had used up all the hot water and that your fingertips were pruny.

You didn't even bother to dry your hair, just wanting to curl up in bed as soon as possible, praying for the day to be over.

It was hard keeping yourself from crying when every little thing reminded you of him. Hell your whole room was filled with all sorts of trinkets and memories of him.

It wasn't about the birthday, but about the fact that you guys had planned a whole day of just you two together, no distractions. You even had Thomas sign an agreement to not bother you guys today!

'Clearly that was all for nothing.'

You scoffed and wrapped the blanket tighter around yourself, the warmth bringing you a tiny bit of comfort.

God knows how long you spent in that one position, zoning in and out or reality, your mind and heart still refusing to grasp the situation but your body reacting with a never ending stream of silent tears.

You know what the insane part was? It wasn't the fact that Rafayel was out spending time with her, but rather the fact that you didn't even receive a single call or text from him. Just radio silence.

It's like anything having to do with you was just wiped from his memory.

As time passed on, you noticed your body crying out in hunger but you didn't have the strength to get up.

A part of you thought that you were being too dramatic, but the teenage girl in you felt like she was in high school again, when you were just the floater friend when the friends they wanted to hang out with were busy, when you were always an afterthought and not the first one.

You never thought you'd feel that with Rafayel, he always made you his number one priority. He knew about your insecurities and always assured you that he'd never put you in that position, ever.

"I guess at some point it was bound to happen." You whispered to yourself as tears fell once again. You just wanted to forget about today and sleep, rolling over you grabbed a bottle out of your bedside drawer. You took the sleeping pill and just laid there, waiting for it to kick in.

It didn't take long for the pills to kick in, closing your eyes you let yourself get enveloped by the darkness.

●・○・●・○・●・

Rafayel

It was late when he got back to his studio, he had this feeling that he was forgetting something but brushed it off.

If it was important I would've remembered it.

Oh how he would soon regret that thought.

He entered his studio expecting to be greeted by his lovely girlfriend, he even got her these desserts that MC loves so much.

"I should charge my phone first, it kept going off so MC took my phone and wouldn't even let me see who was contacting me."

He looked around but didn't see you anywhere. His studio was eerily quiet, Rafayel brushed it off as you having gone to bed considering how late it was.

Making his way to his room, he noticed how the bed looked untouched.

How weird, surely she should have been in bed by now.

He put his phone on charge, cursing it to charge faster.

That's when he saw it all, having been too preoccupied this morning with MC he missed out on his reminder.

Y/N's b-day! Don't forget your lunch reservation at the Linkon Aquarium! And absolutely do not let Thomas bother you about exhibitions!!!

It felt like cold water had been dumped on him as he read the reminder he wrote a few weeks back.

"I screwed up, fuck."

Rafayel started to freak out, his mind running a mile a minute. He quickly grabbed his phone and keys before bolting out of the house to your place.

Normally, you stay at his place more than yours since you guys had very limited quality time and being at his place made it easier to at least spend some time together. Although occasionally you did go home from time to time.

He beelined it to your place, praying you would forgive him. Although he wouldn't blame you if you didn't.

Hell if he was in your position he probably wouldn't forgive himself either! Instead of spending your birthday with you, he was out with another woman spending time with her for her birthday without even so much as a word from him.

As he reached your place he rushed up the stairs to your floor, the elevator taking too long to come. His hands were shaking so much that he struggled to put in your passcode.

After finally typing in the right code Rafayel rushed in, messily throwing off his shoes. He frantically looked around your apartment for you, not seeing you in the living room or kitchen he sped to your room.

The sight in front of him broke him beyond words.

Even in the dark he could see your eyes were puffy, probably from crying so much, there were tears that still stained your cheeks.

He carefully walked towards the edge of the bed, kneeling down so he was next to your head. Rafayel carefully wiped your cheeks, drying them of the tears you shed because of his stupidity.

"I'm so sorry, I know an apology won't fix the hurt I've caused you. Today was supposed to be your special day but I messed it all up."

Rafayel whispered as he gently stroked your cheeks. He stayed in that position until he eventually fell asleep, afraid that if he let go you would disappear.

●・○・●・○・●・

The next morning you awoke to the feeling of someone's hands on your face.

Knowing you went to bed alone, you quickly shot up in a state of panic, grabbing the nearest object to defend yourself.

It took your eyes a moment to adjust before you noticed the concerned eyes staring back at you.

Rafayel moved to get closer to you but you held a hand up, stopping him in his tracks.

"Don't you dare come near me. Get out right now!"

You were never one to raise your voice, but the feelings from yesterday were still fresh.

Rafayel looked shocked that you would raise your voice, but he still persisted. Not wanting to let you be alone anymore than he already made you.

He grabbed your hands but you yanked them right out, you really didn't want to do this so early in the morning.

"Please just let me explain."

Rafayel begged, he could feel your emotions radiating off of you in waves. It hurt him to know he was the one who did this to you, but he'd be damned if he didn't do anything to make it better.

"There's nothing to explain Rafayel. I know who you were with, clearly she is more important than your own fucking girlfriend!"

You felt appalled by his audacity to even try to give you an excuse, there was nothing he could say or do that could bring back yesterday. He made his choice, and it wasn't you.

A small part of you felt like you were overreacting, but a larger part of you validated your feelings.

Yes it was the first time he did something like this, but that doesn't mean you should bend over backwards and forgive him just because he said sorry.

You got up and grabbed his arm, knowing how persistent he is you know he wouldn't leave your apartment, at the very least you can kick him out your room.

Pushing him out the room, you slammed and locked the door before he even had time to process what was happening.

Everything you were holding in came bursting out like a flood. You didn't care if Rafayel was on the other side of the door, the hurt you felt yesterday came back ten fold when you saw his face.

On the other side, Rafayel had his forehead against the door. The pain in your cries made it feel like he was being stabbed over and over again.

He knew if he went in there he would just make things worse for himself, but he couldn't just stand there and listen to your broken sobs.

He picked the lock and gently opened the door, unsure of how close you were to the door, and because he didn't want to risk adding physical pain to the emotional pain you were already going through.

Letting himself in he found you on the floor at the end of your bed, he made his way over and scooped you in his arms before settling down on your bed with you in his lap.

He wrapped his arms around your waist as you tried to push yourself off of him, his hold was tight but not restricting.

You beat his chest with your fists muttering curses at him through your tears. Rafayel just sat there and let you have your way, hoping it brought you some comfort.

When your hits became weaker he shifted to pull you closer to his chest, your forehead now on his shoulders as you sobbed messily. Rafayel rubbed your back soothingly, trying to get you to calm down a bit.

You started to relax a bit in his warm embrace, but you were still on edge.

"Do you want to talk to me now baby?"

He spoke softly, the pain of seeing you in this condition leaking into his voice.

"You left me, and for another woman at that?"

You said after a few moments of silence.

"How could you forget about me? Do I mean that little to you now that you have Miss Bodyguard?"

You looked up at him, the tears streaming down your face. He reached up to wipe them away but you turned your face before he could and wiped them yourself.

He retracted his hands and placed them back on your waist, rubbing circles on them.

"No baby, you mean the world to me. I know it's not an excuse but it's my judgement gets cloudy when I'm around her."

You gave him a look that was a mix between 'what the fuck' and 'your words are not helping your case here.'

As bad as the timing was he let out a little chuckle.

"It's not something I can explain in simple words, but if you give me the chance I'll tell you everything without missing a single detail."

●・○・●・○・●・

Rafayel took the time to thoroughly explain everything to you regarding his past and MC. He constantly stressed multiple times that you were the one he chose and this life and would continue to choose in every other life after this.

You deliberated over his words, it was all a lot to take in, but it definitely helped you understand the situation more.

Not that it forgives him for leaving you alone, on your birthday no less.

“Wait, did you get her a birthday present too?”

You questioned, just now remembering the necklace from the photo.

Rafayel looked at you confused.

“I didn’t even know it was her birthday, why would I give her a birthday present?”

You narrowed your eyes at him in suspicion. Leaning over you grabbed your phone and pulled up the photo, making sure he got a good look at the caption too.

Rafayel snatched your phone the moment he saw it, looking at it with confusion with a hint of anger.

“Baby I promise on the seas I never did any of that! She’s the one who had planned everything and she was already wearing that necklace when I saw her.”

Rafayel explained. You were confused as to why she would go this far to post a lie, it didn’t sit right with you.

“Don’t worry I’ll make sure to no longer have her as my bodyguard, I won’t ever contact her.”

Rafayel said as he took a whole of your face.

"I don't want you to feel like I'm controlling who you employ or interact wi—"

"Absolutely not."

Rafayel cut you off.

"I would never feel that way, ever. This post though, it's really weird and I don't want this type of energy around us. I cherish you too much for that."

He spoke with a tone that was meant to assure me, that something like this will never happen again.

You nod and rest your head against his shoulder again, feeling more drained than yesterday.

"You're still not forgiven for yesterday, you have to make it up to me."

You said with a big yawn, feeling your eyes get heavier.

Rafayel chuckles before laying down with you snuggled on top of him.

"I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if that's how long it takes for you to forgive me."

He kisses the top of your head and then pulls the covers around you both.

"Now sleep, I'll be right here when you wake up."

He wrapped an arm around your waist, while his other hand rubbed your back soothingly.

Letting out a hum, you relaxed further into his hold, letting sleep envelop you.

[corrcdedcoffin]

teenage dirtbag, baby

jj maybank x reader

requested: yes

warnings: none. fluff, pining. one use of y/n. jj is a big ol’ softie and nervous boy here. poorly proof read. i’m not entirely happy with this but it is what it is i guess. 18+

gif not mine!

it was so typical to want what he can't have.

it went against basically every rule on kildare island. kooks and pogues aren't friends; avoid each other at all costs. date in your own social circle. but he couldn't help himself and the big, fat crush he had on you, ever since the day he'd saw you.

it was at the wreck. kiara was helping out one weekend, back when she went to the kook academy for a year. she was behind the counter while jj, john b and pope sat at it, listening to her qualms about her new school.

you were with your family having lunch, pope noticing how kiara kept looking over to you.

"is she one of the mean ones?" he asked, everyone else turning to look at you as you were wrapped up in a conversation, moving around animatedly.

"no," kiara breathed out, "she's pretty cool, actually. she's in my art class. i think she keeps more to herself."

"why don't you try being friends with her?" pope suggested.

she shrugged. "yeah, maybe."

the conversation moved on, but jj couldn't stop looking over at you. if he were in a cartoon, little heart bubbles would be floating all around him, and there'd be a tiny heart shaped arrow stuck in his chest.

he hadn't seen you around for a long time after that. not until the next year at school, when you were at the public school instead of the academy. you certainly looked like a pogue — maybe slightly more well groomed and fashionable, but nothing about you screamed kook.

by the time he'd worked up the courage to introduce himself to you, you were gone.

he saw you around a lot after that. every time he'd wander the halls when he was supposed to be in class, he'd peek in every window to see if you were behind the door. he didn't see you for a few days until he passed the art room at lunch.

there you were; headphones on, slightly swaying side to side as you painted, stopping every few moments for another bite of your lunch.

art never made much sense to jj, he didn't like having to think about what something meant, or being told what he was supposed to feel when looking at something. but he knew one thing for sure: you were insanely talented, and he’d happily sit in a room full of your paintings.

this is his chance, he thought, but you looked so focused and in the zone that he didn't want to disrupt you, so he left.

you invaded his dreams basically every night since.

it was probably for the better anyway, he thought to himself. jj was… well, jj. a dirt poor stoner who hardly ever went to class in favour of smoking and surfing. and you? you oozed intellect and creativity.

a while later he'd learned your name from kiara, impressed with himself how casually he brought it up. "i think i saw another girl from the kook academy here" he'd said.

"oh, yeah. that's y/n, the only other reasonable and cool person that went there."

"do you know why she left?"

"no idea" kiara shrugged. "maybe they bullied her out like they did with me."

and that was it. after he'd learned your name, he found you on social media and began to... observe.

it wasn't like you were secretive, but you weren't exactly an open book like some people were on socials. your instagram had a few selfies, photos of your art, your friends, and some landscapes. your twitter was all over the place, from memes to thoughts that were definitely while high. it only made his crush grow ten times bigger. maybe you were more alike than he thought?

he followed you on instagram first, and was incredibly pleased when he received a notification that you requested to follow him too a little while later.

the school year was going by fast. valentine's day was coming in hot, and small tables were set up to send a rose with a note to whomever you pleased. jj decided to do it.

he wrote your name on the little card, writing a small message about how talented he thought you were as an artist, and that one day he'd love to buy your work. he left a heart at the bottom with no name, and carried on with his day.

on valentine's day, he could see roses being handed to people left and right. this was the first time in a while he'd seen you in the cafeteria during lunch instead of the art room, but then again he was hardly ever there. you were sitting at a table with people from the chess club, reading a book as you ate.

god, you were so different from him.

a student approached you with a handful of roses, and handed you two. jj tried to push down the jealousy that bubbled up. did you have a boyfriend he didn’t know about?

one of them you rolled your eyes at, the other made you smile. he hoped it was his. you studied the flower for a while before looking around the room, eyes eventually locking onto his. he tried to stop his cheeks from going red, resorting to hiding his face and turning away from you.

why the hell did you make him so nervous? he was jj fucking maybank. talking to girls was an easy feat for him — it had never been a problem before. he felt different with you though, less like you were another to fool around with mindlessly, and more like you were someone he actually wanted to get to know.

when he had the courage to look back at you, you were gone.

the end of the year bonfire was a big tradition on Kildare island. all kooks and pogues would gather together at the boneyard for a night of partying and officially transition from school year, to summer.

it wasn't as big or fun as the end of summer bonfire when all the tourons would join in, but it was still a good time.

jj had shown up with pope, meeting kiara and john b there. to his surprise, they were talking to you.

none of his friends knew about the massive crush he harboured. he kept it quiet cause he didn't know how to actually deal with his feelings, so he swept them under the rug and accepted that you'd never acknowledge him, let alone like someone as damaged as he was.

but when kiara pointed out him and pope to you, you smiled.

she introduced you to them, pope shook your hand and jj offered a shy wave. he could feel the way john b was eyeing him down at his actions, the bastardly flush returning to his cheeks and ears. the boy smiled at his friend, asking kiara and pope to join him for a beer, purposely leaving jj alone with you.

you broke the silence first.

"kiara told me you're a really good surfer" you'd said.

he shrugged, "yeah, i guess. been doing it my whole life." he couldn't look at you. he wanted to, badly, but he was so unbelievably scared. instead, he dug his foot in the sand, kicking and twisting.

any other time he would have boasted about being the best surfer on the island, but he couldn’t right now. why the hell couldn’t he talk himself up to the girl he likes?

"i'm terrible at it. i tried last summer for the first time and i think i spent more time in the water trying to fight it than actually standing on the board" you joked, and he let out a small laugh.

"have you ever thought about like, being an instructor or whatever for beginners?"

were you hinting at him?

"not really, but it does sound like a good idea. maybe i'll start, be a good summer gig" he shrugged, finally looking over to you.

he'd spent so much time admiring you from afar or through instagram posts, but he was still just as mesmerized. you were absolutely unreal up close. the sun was behind you, illuminating you as if you were an angel. you had incredibly smooth looking skin, and it looked liked you’d spent lots of time outside; a subtle tan accompanied by a tinge of pink across your nose and cheeks. there was a small scar on the middle of your nose.

he wondered where it came from.

"i can be test subject number one,” you suggested, “if you can't help me, then i'm afraid there's no hope for either of us."

conversation flowed easy after that. he learned that you left the academy simply because everyone was a massive dickhead, and you weren't about that. he learned about your childhood injuries (including the scar, that you got from pulling a cats tail) and dreams, your current dreams, and that you weren't as scary as he made you out to be.

actually, he felt rather calm talking to you once he got past his nerves. it was like catching up with an old friend he didn't know he was missing.

you talked all night long, neither of you realizing you'd completely ignored your friends until they came up to you saying they were heading home. looking up, you realized most people had already left. jj's friends looked at him expectantly, while he looked at you.

"you staying?"

you looked around for your friends, unable to spot them anywhere. "guess i should head home. my friends already left i think."

jj nodded and stood up, offering a hand to help you. you walked to the parking area with them, and said your goodbyes once they were at their van. "where's your car?"

"oh, i didn't drive, my friend did" you told him.

"and they just left you?!"

you shrugged, "i don't mind the walk."

jj pursed his lips in thought. the nice thing to do right now was offer you a ride, but he didn't want to be nice. he wanted to be a little selfish and have more time with you.

"i'll walk with you" he said before closing the van door and jogging over to you, not saying a word to his friends. the way you smiled at that made his heart jump with glee.

the entire way, you didn't stop talking. both of you were on a roll of asking questions and sharing stories, laughing and walking as slow as you could so you'd have more time. it was electric. for the first time in a long time, jj felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be, and he was happy with it. he felt good, like this life wasn’t so bad after all.

your hands brushed together as you walked, legs moving in sync. occasionally your shoulders would bump into the other. by the time you got home, it was nearly 2am.

jj walked you right to the door. seeing your house was a reminder of how different you were, it slightly bruised his ego and confidence again, but then you looked at him and it all washed away.

it was obvious that neither of you wanted to say goodbye, but you were the one to make the move and ask for his number.

"sorry if i bored you to death tonight and kept you away from all the fun party stuff" you said as you put your phone back in your pocket.

jj shook his head. "i was so far from bored. i had a lot of fun with you. actually i—" he let out a big breath, "i wanted to talk to you all year, i was just nervous."

"what! really?"

he nodded. "yeah. kiara recognized you from the academy, and at first i tried to get her to go make friends with you, but she was scared cause of all the shit that happened there.

"and then every time i wanted to talk to you, you were so busy and focused on your art or reading, and i didn't want to interrupt. which, by the way, you're an incredible artist. if i ever get rich one day, ill be your number one buyer."

you smiled at him, your heart swelling at the realization that the anonymous rose you'd received on valentine's day, was from him.

"so it was you, then?" you asked, just to be sure. you spent so long wondering who it was from, the idea of finally knowing was extremely exciting.

he gave you a confused look, then started to blush. "yeah. it was me” he nodded.

you remembered seeing him that day after you read the note, you thought he was cute. you'd noticed him a lot after that, as he walked past the art room or any other class you were in, seeing him in the halls. you never thought he'd noticed you, though. you always thought he was too cool to pay attention to someone like you.

bouncing on the balls of your feet, you reached up and kissed his cheek. "goodnight, jj" you smiled before turning to your door.

"goodnight" he spoke quietly, giving a small wave and smile as you shut the door.

you watched from the window as he held his hand to where you kissed him and stared at the stars. if only you could see the shit eating grin on his face.

once you washed up for the night and got back to your room, you couldn't help the smile that came when you looked at the dried up rose on your dresser, note still attached.

maybe it was against some silly island rule of kooks vs. pogues that you had a crush on the boy, but you didn't care. there was something special about him. something that made you feel like you were on top of the world, in the safest place ever.

like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

like you were home.

don’t be shy, reblog!

feel free to send a request

[jinhyun]

—heart fluttering.

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader, ft. lee chaeryeong x kim seungmin

genre: fluff, humor, college au, established relationship, slice of life

word count: 4.5k

summary: who would’ve thought that an unattended romance book on your coffee table would lead to a whole argument with your friends about the technicalities of pinning someone up against the wall. good thing your boyfriend was eager to help you reenact such a controversial scene and—not really—prove your point.

a/n: well hello there, it’s been a while hehe. i’m just here to post this story for my mother hen @taikapavunvarsi’s birthday, as i’ve been doing every single year now. couldn’t lose the tradition. i fucked up the time zones for this post and you’re probably sleeping rn, but i still hope you had the greatest of days and got lots of love from your loved ones, you deserve nothing but the best things in life ♡ i also hope that you enjoy this little one shot i wrote for you. i haven’t written at all in like two months so forgive my rustiness. anyway, you said you wanted ‘booktok boyfriend challenge’ and maybe reversed, and also after some digging on my end (aka going all the way up on our chat 💀) i realised that you said ‘the watercolors’ when you sent that video to me, so the watercolors you get. and also it’s not really a tiktok challenge they’re doing in this piece bc i kinda twisted it as always lol but i hope you still like it<3

and well, since i wrote this for the watercolor couple, i thought fuck it i’m posting it here. if anyone else reads it, i hope you all enjoy~

“That’s impossible” Seungmin’s final statement earned a side eye from you, which was nothing compared to the way Chae whipped her head in his direction—just like that, letting him know she was taking full offense in his confident words.

“No, it’s not?!” Chaeryeong beat you to it, just as you were opening your mouth to let out the exact same words.

“Babe, I’m telling you, it’s not possible”.

“Yes, it is!” You backed your friend up this time.

Given the intensity each of your statements carried, any outsider would think you were discussing a life or death situation. Especially after the over dramatic roll of eyes Seungmin gave you after contradicting him.

In reality, what got the three of you so heated up was whether a specific paragraph from the book Cherry was currently reading—and which you had already read and lent it to her in the first place—was actually possible or not.

“Give me the book,” Seungmin asked his girlfriend, holding his palm open for her to comply. Once she did, he traced his index finger under the words as he read them out loud: “He shoved her up against the wall, his height towering over her, and then with one hand pinning both of her wrists above her head”.

“What’s so unrealistic about it?” You wondered when he finished with a rather amused scoff.

“So, he pushes her against the wall, then he towers over her, meaning he’s like, extremely close to her, and then with one hand he grabs both her wrists and pulls them up over her head?”

“I don’t get you…” Chaeryeong frowned, visibly trying to understand her boyfriend’s point.

“Wouldn’t her arms be stiff when he pulls them both up at the same time?” He pointed out. “There wouldn’t be space for him to pull them up, since he needs to hold them together, probably in the middle, and then pull them up. He either should’ve done that before coming closer to her or should’ve used both hands so they could go up from her sides and not from the middle”.

You and Chaeryeong stayed silent, exchanging troubled looks as you simultaneously tried to picture the point he was making and to come up with different ways for the narration to work out.

Truth be told, you didn’t really care that much about the physical technicalities when it came to romance books. As long as you could picture what the writer was trying to portray, even if it wasn’t exactly what they had in mind, you were okay with it.

As long as the words in it made you feel something, you could look past a couple of mistakes.

Seungmin, on the other hand, who had only read that one page when Cherry left the book unattended to go to the restroom a few minutes ago, could not look past the ‘poor’—as he had so dismissively called it—wording of that particular paragraph.

“It doesn’t say that they’re extremely close, though?” You argued. “Maybe there is enough space for him to do that”.

“There isn’t” he was fast to reply.

“How would you know that?” Chaeryeong frowned.

“When us guys shove someone against the wall we instinctively corner them right away, that’s the whole point. You don’t just push them and stand there like an idiot before doing anything else”.

“Oof, speaking from experience now?” You taunted him, laughing proudly when you got flipped off right away. “Maybe this one guy did just stand there for a bit and therefore there was enough space between them”.

Chaeryeong nodded rapidly, strongly agreeing with you before Seungmin shook his head in disagreement.

“It literally says he was towering over her”.

“And the meaning of that is up for interpretation,” his girlfriend argued back once again.

“What’s up for interpretation?” Hyunjin asked, entering the living room holding a big bowl of popcorn, after having excused himself to go make himself a quick snack earlier.

“The paragraph from a book” you answered him.

“The one you lent Cherry?” He asked, leaning against the doorframe as he shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him, for a moment there forgetting you were in the middle of an argument. “Yes. There’s this one line that Seungmin swears is not possible”.

“It’s not, though” Seungmin argued once more, and you knew right then he was now only trying to provoke you and his girlfriend.

The glare you threw his way must’ve been one of a kind, for it had Hyunjin chuckling in a heartbeat.

“I thought you guys were fighting for real from the bits and pieces I heard from the kitchen”.

“Oh, we’re close to” Cherry folded her arms over her chest.

It was funny to think this was what your Friday nights had come to after a year of you dating Hyunjin, and of Cherry dating Seungmin.

With you and Chaeryeong being best friends and also roommates, and the same being Hyunjin and Seungmin’s situation, it was inevitable for the four of you to stick together among your larger group of friends. It was unspoken, even.

Since you and Seungmin were done earlier with your last class on Fridays, you would head over to the dance practice room together, where Chaeryeong and Hyunjin would be, as always, mastering their respective routines. You would wait for them to finish, catch up a bit in the meantime, and then all four of you would head over to either your or their dorm, and just hang out there if you didn’t have any particular couple activities planned out with your respective partners. Usually, it was yours, so you wouldn’t bother Changbin if he happened to be at their place—you had already been called out one too many times for making him fifth wheel.

Today, it was no different.

It was supposed to be a peaceful evening, just chatting in the living room all four of you until it was time for Chae and Seungmin to leave, since they were going to the movies later that night. Although, to be fair, no evening could ever be completely peaceful when both your dramatic boyfriend and her tsundere one were together.

Maybe if Chaeryeong hadn’t left your book on the coffee table the night before, you could’ve accomplished an almost peaceful one, because then Seungmin wouldn’t have caught a glance of it after she left his side and he found himself looking for another eye-catching sight around your place, and maybe then he wouldn’t have read that infamous line that got the three of you arguing like your lives depended on it.

Hyunjin would probably have agreed with Seungmin, had he been in the room with you when all hell broke loose. Their experience pinning people against a wall was probably over half of yours—which was nonexistent—after all. But, he wasn’t there for it. So, your eyes lit up when you looked at him and an idea came to your mind.

Watching him place the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table as he munched on another handful of them, you stood up before he could take a seat next to you like he intended.

“Jinnie, come here” you called him, having him follow you to the wall next to the sofa where you had been sitting. When he was in front of you and his rather confused eyes were silently asking you what you wanted, you said: “Pin me up against the wall”.

And maybe you should’ve known better than to make such a request to him all of a sudden, because next thing you knew, confusion was replaced by lust in the way he looked at you, and his hands on both sides of your hips were pulling you closer to him.

“Here in front of our friends?” He mumbled, smiling against your lips and sending shivers down your spine.

Sadly, he didn’t get to steal a kiss from your mouth like he was dying to. Not because of the giggle that had just escaped it—as you couldn’t help but get shy even after all the times you had kissed in front of your friends and vice versa—but because of the pillow Seungmin didn’t hesitate to throw at his head as soon as he realised what was about to go down in front of them.

“Boo, you hoe!” he called your boyfriend out.

Hyunjin threw his head lightly back, biting his lip as he tried to conceal the amused—yet frustrated—smile already parting his lips. Still, he didn’t hesitate to grab the pillow from off the floor and throw it right back to Minnie.

“So,” Hyunjin began after successfully hitting his friend, pulling you closer to him again. “Do I pin you up against the wall or not?”

“Yes, but not like that” Chaeryeong answered for you, causing a laugh to escape your lips.

“Wait, but don’t tell him how, we’re trying to prove a point here” you reminded them, looking for confirmation from both of them before your eyes went back to your boyfriend. “Just, pin me up against the wall”.

“Like, forcefully or…”

“Um…” you hesitated.

“It does say ‘shove’ against the wall here, so yeah, forcefully” Seungmin said.

“And then pull her hands above her head” Cherry added.

“What the hell are you guys on about?” He frowned, not really knowing whether he should be worried or not.

“Just do it” you laughed.

“Okay, so…” his uncertain eyes fixed on yours, looking for consent to push you against the wall.

With a silent nod, you let him know to go for it. And so, his hands went up to your ribcage, missing your breasts by an inch, and he pushed you to the wall. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt you, but just enough for a thud to be heard at the impact.

Before you could process whether you had liked it or not, he was already grabbing your hands and pulling them up above your head.

You found out right then that you did indeed like it. Maybe a little too much. Enough to only focus on his plump lips nearly touching yours, and, therefore, to miss the way he had used both hands to pin yours up.

“Told you!” Seungmin managed to break the sexual tension already taking over the two of you. “You need both hands for that”.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t use only one, though?” You argued, unconsciously resting your hands on Hyunjin’s chest.

“Oh, you wanted me to use only one?” He asked you, then looking at your friends. “I can do that”.

“Let’s see it,” Seungmin said, grabbing the bowl of popcorn and leaning back on the sofa.

“What are you, a judge?” Hyunjin scoffed.

“Oh, hush. Just do it”.

Rolling his eyes, he took a step away from you, so he could reenact the scene right from the start.

This time, however, instead of shoving you up against the wall right away, he grabbed your right wrist and then brought it up to your left one before he pulled them up above your head. It was only when your hands were about to reach the top of your head, that his free hand went up to your waist and he pushed you against the wall—almost as if he’d heard Seungmin’s previous argument—cornering you right away.

It was fair to say, whether he had just proved Seungmin’s point or not, you were enjoying this whole argument way too much.

“See?” Seungmin looked at Chaeryeong with a proud smirk.

“We haven’t seen the way the book describes it yet, though” she refused to give it up, reaching for the book on the coffee table and looking for the controversial paragraph.

“Is this really what our Friday nights have come to?” You asked in utter disbelief.

“I’m not really complaining” Hyunjin confessed—a breathy laugh escaping his mouth as he lovingly bumped your nose with his own.

“I mean, it could be possible,” Seungmin stood up, deliberately ignoring the PDA going on in front of him and walking over to you—watching the reenactment from the couch not being enough anymore. “But it’d be too inconvenient, like, if you’re that close and you hold both wr—”

“You are not shoving my girlfriend up against the wall” Hyunjin warned him when he tried to shove him aside in order to take his place, unconsciously grabbing your hand and pulling you to him.

Seungmin rolled his eyes. “I’m not, I’m just trying to make a point here”.

“Go make your point with Chaeryeong over there”.

“Hold on, I’m looking for the line” she absentmindedly replied as she scanned the page.

You snorted, leaning your head against your boyfriend’s shoulder. You didn’t know whether she was unaware or simply unfazed—either of them being just as funny to you.

“Okay, I got it,” Cherry announced, going up to you as well. “So, what you have to do is, shove her up against the wall,” she looked up to Hyunjin, waiting for him to do so—which he did, only gently this time, as the four of you seemed to be more into the technicality of it all rather than into the reenactment. “Tower over her,” she read, and that he did as well, making your heart race when he took it one step further by tilting your chin up with his fingers, so he could lean in to faintly touch your mouth with his lips.

“Keep it professional, dude” Seungmin called him out—justice being made for you when he was the one to get flipped off now by your boyfriend.

“And now,” Chaeryeong resumed. “With one hand, hold both of hers up”.

You knew Seungmin was right—as if the two previous tries hadn’t already been proof enough—when you saw your boyfriend hesitate, only then realising how close he had come to you by simply being told to tower over you.

Hyunjin knew something was off right away, having to take a few seconds to figure out how to pull your hands up in between the little to nonexistent space between your bodies.

In the end, the safest choice was to take a step back in order to do so, coming right back to tower over you as soon as he got your hands pinned to the wall. Just like that, proving that, although possible, it would turn out clumsy enough—not to say ‘inconvenient’, like Seungmin had claimed—to mess with the heat of the moment.

“Told you,” Seungmin smiled proudly once again. “Inconvenient”.

“Whatever” Chaeryeong shrugged, closing the book and carefully throwing it on the couch as she finally admitted defeat. “All I got from this is that you two share the same braincell. Luke clearly left enough space between them”.

“Luke,” he mockingly repeated the character’s name he had just learned. “Was clearly written by a woman who’s never pinned anyone against a wall”.

“And that’s why he’s way better than you two”.

You couldn’t help the throaty laugh that escaped your mouth at her bitter remark. While Seungmin’s jaw fell open, desperately looking for a clap back for that yet coming up with nothing, a quite offended Hyunjin nudged you, for your friend’s insult had involved him too and you were laughing.

Chaeryeong, on the other hand, was unable to hold back a laugh of her own at the sight of her baffled boyfriend—pulling the now pouty guy into a hug. “Okay, I’m sorry” she apologised with a peck to his lips, knowing she was forgiven when his hands rested on her waist and his thumbs drew small circles on it. “But, honestly, just read the damn book and you’ll get why we don’t really care about technicalities”.

“If it’s so good they’ll probably make a movie of it, so I’ll just wait for that” he smiled cynically.

Chaeryeong rolled her eyes with a smile, only for it to be erased the next second when realisation hit her. “Wait, the movie!”

Seungmin’s face was quick to match her panicked one.

Being too immersed in the rather entertaining argument, neither of them had remembered the movie they had got tickets for earlier that week, and which they should’ve left for a while ago now.

“Shit, what time is it?” Seungmin asked, rushing to get his things.

“Eight thirty” Hyunjin let him know as he checked his phone.

“Fuck, we only have fifteen minutes”.

“Let’s go” Cherry hurried him up, putting on her shoes and grabbing her coat by the entrance.

“Coming” Seungmin announced from the couch, shoving his phone into his pocket and running to put on his shoes as well, as Chaeryeong held the door open while waiting for him. “Okay, see you guys later, bye!”

Chuckling over the entire situation after hearing them slam the door shut, and feeling the silence take over the room now that your friends were gone, you looked up to Hyunjin. Although the both of you were resting your backs against the wall now, as he had leaned on it in order to watch your friends rushing out of your place, he didn’t waste another second to corner you again—getting the perfect opportunity to tilt your chin up and to finally press his mouth to yours, like he had been dying to ever since you asked him to pin you up against the wall earlier that night.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, and his own snaked around your waist, pulling you so close to his body that you found yourself laughing breathily at the lack of oxygen you were getting after a few seconds.

“So those are the kind of books you’re always reading?” He smirked over your lips, slightly loosening his hold on you—just enough for you to catch your breath.

“God forbid a girl wants to read some heart fluttering stories” you couldn’t help but sound defensive, gently letting your palms slide down to his chest.

He chuckled, gently nuzzling your neck. “I’m not shaming you or anything, it’s just interesting”.

“What is?”

“That those kinds of things make your heart flutter”.

“Those kinds of things?” You asked.

“Pinning you up against the wall?” He cocked a teasing eyebrow.

“As if you didn’t know that already” you rolled your eyes, folding your arms over your chest.

“I didn’t” he chuckled, teasingly pinching your sides before he pulled you closer and kissed you once more.

Sure, he had pinned you up against the wall a couple of times—maybe more than a couple in the time you had been together—but never forcefully, or at least not enough to make the impact of your body against it to actually make a sound, like it had today.

He had only now discovered that you enjoyed it. And he was surely loving this newfound liking of yours.

“If you ever got pinned up against a wall like that, you’d get the hype” you defended yourself.

“Well, you could always show me” he shrugged, unable to hide the smirk that was already curving up his lips.

“Me?”

“Aren’t you my girlfriend? Who else would pin me up against a wall if not you?”

“The height difference won’t help, though”.

“I’ll cooperate” he promised, earning a light laugh from you. “You need to do the whole thing, though. I want my arms pinned above my head and all”.

“You’re delusional,” you laughed.

“For knowing what I want?” He said over dramatically.

“Ah, what did I get myself into” you amusedly lamented, but gave in regardless.

Letting go of each other and switching sides, being now him the one turning his back to the wall while you faced him, you couldn’t help but hesitate, just like he had done before pushing you for the first time.

Turned out, it was actually mind wrecking not knowing how much force to put into shoving the person you loved in order not to hurt them. Not like you could actually push him that hard if you wanted, but still.

“I’m waiting~” he teased you.

At that, knowing well enough he would tease you even harder if you took any longer, you just pushed him without a second thought—only to panic as soon as you heard his back hit the wall.

“Was that okay?” You asked him right away.

He dramatically clutched his chest. “My heart’s nearly beating out of my chest”.

“Oh, shut up” you rolled your eyes, deciding to just get it over with and grab both his wrists in order to pull them above his head.

Since you had already pushed him and there was enough space between the two of you, given that you forgot to corner him against the wall right after—you could almost hear Seungmin calling you an idiot—your stubbornness told you to only use one hand to do so.

Now, the problem was, that you forgot how big Hyunjin’s hands actually were, and therefore why it was so easy for him to grab both your wrists with only one of them—as opposed to you, who were already struggling with the task.

Hyunjin was enjoying it one hell of a lot, though. He couldn’t hold back a giggle as he watched you struggle for a few seconds to secure his wrists in your hand, and then he completely lost it when you finally managed to pull them up over his head, only for you not to be able to reach all the way up and just leave them hanging there midway.

“Yah, you said you’d cooperate!” You whined.

“I’m slouching, I’m slouching” he defended himself in between laughs as he did so.

However, hearing your laugh only made him laugh harder, to the point he gave up on slouching at all and ended up kneeling down instead, letting his face rest on your abdomen and holding onto the curve of your back as he looked for some kind of support.

“You’re so annoying” you half laughed, half whined again; trying to help him stand back up.

“You’re so cute,” he cooed.

Letting out one last throaty laugh and finally managing to catch his breath, he let you help him up, smiling lovingly when you cupped his face and wiped the tears of joy that had rolled down his cheeks.

“So, pinning you up against the wall is a no-go to make your heart flutter” you nodded your head.

“It did flutter though, but just because you’re too adorable and I love you” he admitted, and it was your heart the one to flutter at that.

“What can I do to truly make your heart go all mushy then?”

“Honestly?” He asked.

You nodded.

“I love it when you play with my hair”.

You smiled, as it was no news. He had been very vocal about it after the first time you played with his hair while you cuddled on his couch, even way before being a couple.

It was always nice to hear how much he actually loved it, though.

“I was thinking more of a book-ish thing to do…” you confessed.

“Book-ish?” He poked fun at you.

“Yeah, you know, cliché things characters in romance books do” you looked around as you tried to think of something. “Like when they grab your face and make you look at them when you’re not paying attention, like—”

Before you could finish your sentence, he was already grabbing your chin and making you look up at him.

“Like this?” He mumbled against your lips.

You felt your cheeks burn embarrassingly fast, having to look to the side in a poor attempt to play it cool—only to have him playfully make you look at him again.

“Hwang Hyunjin,” you warned him, unknowingly making his heart race at the sound of the lower register you had just used.

“Yes, baby?”

“You’re not supposed to make me flustered, I was about to make a move there”.

He laughed under his breath. “Let’s be honest now, if you were to do that right now, with us standing up, I’d probably just end up looking to the wall”.

Your jaw fell open in full offense. “If I grab your face and turn it in my direction, you’re supposed to look at me even if I’m shorter than you. It’s common courtesy”.

“You’re the one manhandling me, you’re supposed to make me look at you”.

“And that’s what—I give up” you held your hands up in defeat. “I could never be the man of this relationship”.

“Good,” he said, grabbing your waist and turning both of you around, so that he was once again the one cornering you against the wall and leaning down so close to you that you could feel your breathings mix. “Just leave the manhandling to me, hm?”

You bit your lip, in a hopeless attempt to conceal the smile already curving up your lips. He chuckled against your mouth, leaning in to press a slow, lingering kiss to it.

You would be a fool to turn down his offer.

“I want to make your heart flutter too, though” you pouted nevertheless.

“And you always do that without even trying”.

“I do?”

“Mhm…” he lovingly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Like I said, when you play with my hair, or when you lean your head on my shoulder, also when you call me baby… when you use that lower tone of yours to talk to me, and when you doodle literally anything while we talk and then gift it to me…” his eyes softened at the memories. “Do I keep going?”

You softly shook your head no—your heart already feeling warm enough because of his words. “I believe that’s good en—”

“Oh, I love it when you wear my clothes!” He cut you off, eyes lighting up over the sudden train of thought. “Fuck, especially when you only wear one of my t-shirts to sleep and I get to admire your pretty thighs while you walk around my room”.

You chuckled at his last addition, feeling your cheeks burn all over again. “You’re getting a bit carried away now, aren’t you, baby?”

He bit his lip, remaining silent yet not finding it in him to feel the least bit embarrassed. You were all his after all, he was allowed to admire your beauty in all its splendor and gush about it all he wanted.

“I’ll make sure to do all that more often then” you quietly added with a smile, reaching up to sweetly catch his bottom lip in between yours.

“There are a few of my t-shirts in your closet, so how about doing that one now?” He proposed, temptingly brushing his lips against yours.

“If that’s what it takes to make your heart flutter…” you quietly taunted him.

He agreed with a small nod, pressing his lips to yours and teasingly grabbing a hold of your wrists. “I’ll make sure yours does too by pinning you up against your bedroom wall while we’re at it”.

[sashi-ya]

𝑪𝑼𝑻𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑭𝑹𝑬𝑬𝑫𝑶𝑴 「 part 1 」 soshiro hoshina x f! officer! reader

a/n: yes! first Kaiju no. 8 fic ever! idk how many of you would like to read from Kaiju but I've been obsessed with it lately, and especially with Soshiro. it's pretty short and wrote it cause I needed to think of other things after studying. So yeah, enjoy! tw: there aren't "sex" scenes, however mdni as it has suggestive language, nudity and mature content. (thank god for this manga having almost every character above 25!). Pretty much inspired on Soshi's backstory from Kaiju no 8 side B, so expect fluff too. what happened on the following days? more Soshiro smut, here. masterlist

“I can’t take the suit off” you murmur, trying to lower the front zipper. The mission took much more than what you expected, and the kaiju stench is making you nauseous.

For the time being, most of your squad members have already jumped into the showers. But you, still trying to get out of the suit, haven’t.

“I… this shit… why is it not working?” you protest, forcing the zipper more and more, but it hasn’t been able to go down past the beginning of your chest.

You try to look for the intercom; pressing it to call the Operations leader Konomi, will surely help you out with the captive suit. But, you can’t find it. Did you lose the little intercom before coming back to the base? Or did it fell around there?

Everything seems to be flaunting tonight. It’s late, you are tired. You’ve been hit several times by different Kaiju, but none of them -luckily- was able to injure you.

However, you begin to feel an incredible -and uncontrollable- heat coming from the suit itself and reaching the inner layers of your skin and organs.

You don’t panic. At first.

You definitely panic two minutes later, when the heat is unbearable and the pain in such restrictive jail is almost deadly.

“Help…” you whine, not loud enough to be heard by anyone else. Or at least, definitely not enough to be listened over the lively chattering coming from the showers.

But it hurts, as much as the acid of those despicable monsters when their core explode. And it really begins to interfere with your breathing, and thus, with your consciousness.

“Help me… I’m burning…” you scream louder this time. But no one comes, and your knees hit the ground in pain.

Tears flood up your eyes, your nails aren’t enough to tear the thick skin of Izumo Techs’ innovative suit. No guns are enough, probably, even if you had the chance to go grab yours… it wouldn’t be useful.

You pray, you wish for someone to cut that trap into pieces.

“H- help… me…” “WHAT IS IT?!”

In between blurred eyes and painful frown, you device an angel of slanted eyes and deep purple hair.

“I… the suit… it’s boiling… it’s overheating… I can’t take it off” you grasp a little bit of air and try to communicate -effectively- the reason of your suffering.

“Stay quiet” he commands, and you comply. There is nothing you wouldn’t do to go against his orders.

An immediate relief comes with enough cuts that you couldn’t even see. Completely naked, completely soaked in sweat. There you lay, panting, with still stings of pain reverberating all over your skin.

“Come here” he says, ripping the remaining pieces off the suit still ferally attached to your burning skin. And as feral as the suit is, the feral his hands are when ripping its pieces away.

“Vice-captain Hoshina… th-thank you…” you cry, completely unaware of your impure show off.

His eyes open widely, and for the first time you see the beautiful bloody irises he usually keeps hidden away. But his expression is not jovial, nor even neutral. He is by far worried.

Probably for the first time in ages, the blades have fallen to the ground and with those same hands he saved your life he hurries to carry you to the men’s showers.

At the speed of light, cold water begins to gush from the showerheads. Your body feels instant relief; so much there is even some vapor coming from your skin.

As it bathes you, it also bathes him.  Completely dressed, Soshiro gets drenched in the same water as you. And, as his hair becomes wet, one of his hands moves it out of his face, revealing his façade completely.

Your arms hang from his shoulders into his back. Your knees, fight to keep you standing up even if the one actually holding you up is no other than him.

Soshiro is completely mute, and so do you. There is, maybe, no need to speak.

He lets his jacket slide through his shoulders to finally fall into the shower’s floor. The compressive shirt underneath gets also wet, becoming something like a second skin of him. Showing off the hours of training, and why he is the vice-captain of your division.

Immorally, you that were on the brink of death a couple of minutes ago, now feel in heaven because of your saviour. Because of your blades wielding hero.

Once again, he was able to save a life with those thinly cut masses of iron.

His hand, with soft but still steady pace, clean something off your back. And for that your breasts are pressed against his chest. You can see his neck from the side, as he tries to take a deeper look at your shoulder blades. You inhale the scent of his skin, a mix of sweat from the last battle and manly hints of fresh perfume.

“You got them almost engraved on your skin. What the fuck? The suits aren’t supposed to hurt you this way” he whispers, close to your ear. “We should go to the medical pavilion, now” he adds.

You nod, feeling how everything has started to spin around you and your stamina decreases more and more.

“Thank you, Soshi- Hoshina fuku Taichou…” you babble, realizing your faces are closer that what they should ever be and your arms and his are interlocked pretty strongly to the other’s body.

He takes a deep breath through his tiny nose, looking at you with lazy eyes. Just a tiny line of red is visible, as tiny as the opening of his lips that let prominent fangs barely flash.

Soshiro’s chest goes up and down, harder every time. His muscles tense more and more, especially the ones on his neck. His hug gets even tighter, pulling you so closer that ever before.

“It’s… ok…” he barely words; something is affecting that man… and it’s probably all your body, all your still warm skin being his for at least a couple of minutes, the way your lips have become red and pouty, your sloppy eyes and the warmth of your breath closer to his mouth.

“What happened!!??” “Vice-captain?!” “are you two allr-“ the girls scream in terror. Probably, once they were out of the showers they faced the dantesque scenery of blades lying on the ground and a anti kaiju suit completely destroyed and fuming scattered all over the floor.

Within seconds, not only the officers of squad 3 have reached the place but also the men. Some of them, thinking not the worst… but probably that Hoshina fuku Taichou and you have finally caved in for lust.

With a fast reaction, Soshiro grabs the coat of his own uniform to cover you up. And with a much more severe tone ever heard, he orders Kikoru to call Mina and Okomi and let them know he is taking a badly injured officer to the medical pavilion. As for the rest, a scary deadly look over his shoulder was enough to make them run away from the place allowing him to pass.

You, however, couldn’t quite experience such happenings, as your consciousness had fade away right before your comrades arrived.

A soft white light shines in between your shut eyes; the sound of unknown solitude reaches your ears as well as the synchronic beep of your heart reflected on a machine.

“What-“ you mumble, regaining consciousness. Your body feels cold, and you are thankful for that. Your limbs are heavy, but you can move them. Your lips and mouth are dry, but you smile as you remember vague flashes of Soshiro and you under the shower.

You finally open your eyes to discover you are indeed at some kind of medical facility, soon remembering this is the place you all come when you are severely injured after battle.

Everything on your body seems to be on its place, and for that you breathe alleviated. Thankful to your hero, you wonder how to thank him when you are out of here… or maybe, you just plan to leave the squad as he has seen you completely naked.

“I didn’t know you were awake already” a well-known voice scares you away. You try to stand up, but his hand stops you from doing so.  “I couldn’t sleep, I was worried for you” he says, with that sweet funny tone he often uses to communicate.

There is, as far as you could see, anyone around but you and him. Soshiro, who apparently couldn’t sleep, has come to see you.

Your cheeks burn, and it’s not because of a defective suit now. It is because, you are deeply embarrassed, and still, something inside you is jumping with genuine happiness to see him here.

“I’m ok, Sir. But.. you didn’t have to come! I’m deeply thankful for you saving my life, and I promise you I will replace the uniform you got all wet” you say, trying to look away from him who has came closer to your bed.

Soshiro bursts out laughing, the way he only knows how to. He grabs his stomach, and soon flashes of the way those abs looked with wet fabric sticked to them, makes you shiver.

“You- you should worry for your own suit! Not mine!” he continues laughing while, little by little, he ends up sitting right on the bed. “By the way, you know why your suit almost killed you?” he asks.

You swallow. What- why is he sitting next to you?

 You shake your head in denial, out of words, because you couldn’t think of a reason for such big flaw on that impressive technological miracle.

Soshiro, who is well known for being at least a little bit irreverent -and that’s exactly what you love the most about him-, gets himself comfortable next to you. He lies back, as you move to the side to make him some space.

Now, the scent of his skin is clean and delicious -even more than earlier-. And you can smell it, because there isn’t much room to be separated on a single bed.

“Well… you had a piece of Kaiju tooth stuck on your lower back. Therefore, the suit either processed it as a threat or… it reacted with the pieces of kaiju within it. In any case, you will be given a new one in a couple of days” he tells you, with his right arm stuck underneath the back of his head.

His bicep, perfectly moulded to be strong, but still lightweight to be as agile as possible, protrudes with the hem of the compression shirt around it. Does he really know how sexy he looks? Or he is absolutely unaware of the effects he has?

“Oh…” you sigh. You take it as a personal failure; how were you not able to see it? “Don’t worry, this incident helped them to investigate further security measures… however, isn’t your back hurting?” he asks, this time turning to you.

You deny, again, without any words coming from your mouth. But there isn’t much you could do, when Soshiro turns you around so that your back faces him.

“You do, in fact, have a big bruise. I should report this, too” he comments, as his soft index travels down your spine, to the small of your back.

Your eyes, opened big enough to look like moons, have stopped seeing all around and all you can think of is the proximity of that man to you.

“You good?” he murmurs, ignorant of everything happening to your body. “Ye-yes, vice-captain. I wanna thank you for taking care of us the way you do; hadn’t been for you, I’d be dead by now…” you pull those words from who knows where, even if your muscles seem paralyzed from his touch. Your speech sounds like those you give when you follow commands during battle.

He laughs; this time softer and sweeter. You can feel his body coming closer, enough to feel the tip of his nose grazing your neck.

“We should have each other’s backs in here, or else… but most importantly, being told my blades will not be useful to fight and protect, you remind me once again that they indeed can” he whispers, making your skin shiver.

It’s clear that he wants you. And you want him, too.  And you always knew, and he always knew. And all of them, too.  Why, just now, on a place where you should be monitored, there were nobody around if not?

“Can I rest here for a minute?” he asks, as his forehead lands on your nape. “All the time you want, Vice-captain” you answer back, smiling softly.

You slowly relax, as his hand slides in the most delicate way towards your belly to hug you. Your hand, also delicate, fall on top of his, confirming how much you would love for him to touch you like this forever.

“Call me Soshiro when we are like this, ok?” he murmurs, planting the first kiss right on your shoulder.

You turn around, slowly. Even if you would love to stay the way you were, you can’t stop yourself from wanting to see his face.

“Soshiro…” you whisper, coming closer to his lips. “That’s better…” he smiles, kindly.

And one kiss, and then another came by… and thankfully, that night, there were no more Kaiju around.

[dyingswanpavlova]

His

Pairing: Nam-gyu × Depressed!Reader

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Depression, Mentions of medication, Inability to take care of oneself because of depression, Hinting at sexist job, Smut, Oral Sex (F receiving), P in V Sex, Unprotected Sex, Kinda short (Oneshot), Tell me if I missed any.

Since you first started showing signs of your depression, Nam-gyu always tries his best to be a good partner for you, even if that means keeping his own desires in check. Good thing you want him just as much as he wants you.

Author's note: I know most people are waiting for me to finish Your girl and guys, I'm working on it! This came to me kind of spontaneous and I wrote it down in like an hour, so please don't judge if it seems rushed or if there are any mistakes, I'm too exhausted to check for any right now. I think this was kinda fluffy (by my standards). Love you, guys!

PS. The new season fucked with my mind. Anyone else?

Divider by @saradika-graphics

You were always the one thing Nam-gyu didn’t take advantage of.

Not because he couldn’t have done it. But simply because he didn’t want to.

He made his way into the bedroom with the utmost care not to wake you. A brief look told him what he needed to know: you were not asleep, but you were also not with him. Not really. Whatever had taken a toll on you today still lived inside your mind and made it harder for him to reach you.

The softest sigh left his lips as he made his way to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth and tried his best not to look at himself in the mirror. Yes, he wasn’t taking advantage of you. But that didn’t mean that he wasn’t failing you.

Money was tight. Too tight at times. He tried his best to come up with something. The shifts at the grocery store barely covered rent and groceries. How utterly ironic. There were no such things as luxury, though he tried his best not to let you notice. Whenever you went out with a friend he hoped they might cover for you or else he started counting pennies in his head. You noticed. Of course you noticed. You were sad, not stupid. So, soon instead of going out, you called your friend over for pasta and Netflix. He hated it. That you knew. That he was failing you.

There was exactly one thing he couldn’t compromise on though. You.

You left school after you realized that knowledge costs money. You took this shitty job in that office where you were supposed to take phone calls and look pretty. God, he hated that website. “Top Girl.” What did it even mean? Why did a call center job require its workers to be in their early or mid-twenties, look pretty and polished and wear dresses to work?

The second he realized it, he started working his ass off. He did whatever he could to get you out of that greasy midlife-crisis work hole. But it was never enough. Right now he was speculating with some crypto currency. You had the tiniest bit of money stashed under your mattress – if only he could somehow make it work. He would do whatever it took. It was worth a try, right? That dumbass youtuber was doing it. Why couldn’t he?

He washed his face and begrudgingly took a glance at his form in the mirror. He looked like a mess. His last fix was weeks ago – he was really trying hard for you. But on days like this? When he knew the world was crushing you down and there was nothing he could do about it? All he wanted now was a fucking fix. He closed his eyes and frantically shook his head, his hand clenched into fist.

“Get a grip, motherfucker.”

He took a deep breath and took his shirt off. He discarded it next to his pants and socks on the bathroom floor, before he quietly made his way back to the bedroom. There you were. Unmoving. Utterly drained. And still…his.

He slipped under the covers carefully and moved close enough to feel your warmth seep into his bones. He brushed the faintest kiss over the crown of your head and closed his eyes.

All he wanted on days like this, aside from a pill maybe, was this. You.

He felt the familiar stirring of desire deep in the pit of his stomach, but he pushed it away. A few deep breaths and he was back to being his good self. His trying self. The one only you ever brought out in him. And you felt it, of course. You felt how hard he was trying. The tremble of his body, the sharp inhale that he swallowed.

And what did you do?

You reached for his hand. Squeezed it in yours. And pressed it to your lips.

And just like that, it was okay again. It was all worth it, all of a sudden. He would try again tomorrow and he would do even better. If only it meant you were safe, you were here, you were his.

Sleep came easy. It always did. Nam-gyu wasn’t the kind of guy to dwell on thoughts once night fell. There were many things he could have thought and worried about, but instead, exhaustion took over. Fatigue. Stress.

He drifted off with his face buried in the crook of your neck. His breath tickled you and so did his arm that he kept around your waist firmly. Whenever it got dark outside, he melted into you like a low burning candle. Nothing could come between you in these moments, not even your condition. Especially not that.

He woke to the feeling of your breath tickling his face and your hands on his chest. His eyes blinked open ever so slowly and he took a glance at the clock on the bedside table. Three in the morning, on the dot. He blinked.

“You okay, baby?” He murmured, his voice rough with sleep.

But you weren’t asleep.

This whole day, every comment your boss made, every entitled customer who thought he had the right to talk you down because you were a woman – and of course the cloud that lived above your head for years now…They had taken up all your energy, so that once you came home you collapsed into the bed without even going to the bathroom first. And tomorrow would be the same. You were lucky when you got to eat. You didn’t eat on your own, you only did when he cooked (which he only learned for your sake) and then made you. He’d sit you up and usher you into the kitchen. You were always convinced that you weren’t hungry until you smelled and tasted it. Then, you suddenly realized, you were famished.

And the nights? The nights.

You could sleep all day, if you tried. Sometimes you did. When you got to stay the day home. On weekends or whenever you called in sick. But once it got dark outside? You felt your energy return, step by step. And you lay awake, his arm still around your waist.

The guilt came creeping every time. Not soft and knocking on your door, no, it kicked it down and open.

It was all on him. Every fucking responsibility.

When you met him, he was a fucking deadbeat. To be honest, you couldn’t even exactly remember what made you fall for him. Well, yes, you could. He made you laugh. Without trying. Whenever you were angry, whenever you actually wanted to feel sad. He just came and made you laugh. It was the easiest thing in the world for him. Even when everything else was collapsing, he found a way to make it easier. He took the weight off of your chest. He was just…him. Yours.

So, you took him as he was. With the scars, the drama, even the drugs. At first, you argued a lot. Then made up a lot. But he never made you question if he still loved you. Because even on those days when you thought, God, this is it, this has to have been it. He’s going to leave me, just like everyone else always did…He stayed. Even in his anger, he made sure you had eaten. Even in his coldness, he still wrapped his arm around you at night.

Your mind got worse. The sadness didn’t just come and go anymore, instead it was always there. You got softer – and so did he. For you. You didn’t argue as much. He learned to keep his anger to himself, unless it was truly necessary to let it out. You learned not to believe that he would leave you for every little mistake you made. And so you became who you were.

And at night?

At night, you felt the weight of the world crushing down on you. You didn’t cry. You felt too numb for that. You simply…

You wanted to feel alive. If only for a few minutes.

“Baby…”

“Kiss me.”

His brows furrowed. “But…” His jaw clenched.

“I don’t know.” He muttered. His fingers curled in your hair, gently tilting your face up to meet his gaze in the dark. “You haven’t been yourself lately. Did you even take your meds?”

Your face burned in a mixture of embarrassment and rejection. He seemed to notice, because he pulled you closer.

“I just don’t want you to think you have to.” He whispered. “That’s all. Baby, I…”

But you didn’t listen. You never did, did you?

Your lips brushed his in the softest breath and you felt him stiffen. The desire he felt a few hours ago returned full-force.

“It’s been so long.” You whispered against his lips, your fingers drawing lazy circles on his bare chest. “Please, baby. Make love to me.”

He exhaled slowly, his fingers in your hair tightening a fraction.

“I need to know.” He murmured. “Tell me that you’re clear.”

Your lips curved, almost involuntarily.

“Nam-gyu.”

He returned the kiss now, but he was still hesitant. “Say it.”

You closed your eyes and rested your forehead against his. “I’m here, baby. Come on. Don’t make me beg.”

His eyes fluttered shut and his own lips twitched. “Maybe I like hearing you beg a little.”

That made you laugh. God, he was so good at making you laugh.

“Oh, really? Why is it that it’s normally you who begs me then?”

He grinned. “Because I’m a gentleman?”

You snorted. “A gentleman? You? May I remind you of the one time you suggested that we try-“

He kissed you to shut you up and it worked. You melted against his mouth like it was right where you belonged. Because it was. With the softest sigh, he pulled you on top of him, so that you straddled his lap.

“You’re so hard already.” You whispered breathlessly as you dipped your head forward and planted soft kisses between his neck and his collarbone.

He inhaled sharply. “It’s been fucking weeks, baby.”

You arched a brow. “And you didn’t…You know?”

Nam-gyu smirked. “Will you please shut up?”

That made you grin. “And if I don’t?”

He bit his lip and fisted his hand in your hair, pulling you close. “Then I’ll make you.”

His sudden display of dominance made you throb in your panties, but you didn’t say that. You didn’t say anything, because you simply let yourself be for once.

He pulled you even closer and then he kissed you again. His tongue plunged into your mouth and chased yours in a sinful dance. You ground your hips down against his, feeling yourself coat him in your wetness, even through your clothes.

“Not yet.” He muttered.

Your brows furrowed. “What- No games, Nam-gyu, I’m so fucking-“

His hands settled on your hips and he pulled you into a sitting position, almost making you fall. But he held you. You gasped in surprise. “What are you-“

He shifted so swiftly, you started feeling dizzy. But once you realized what he was doing, the real dizziness set in.

You felt his hot breath against your core, almost enough to make your eyes roll back. You didn’t speak. You couldn’t.

He wasn’t playing games, not then. He hooked two fingers under the hem of your panties and pulled them to the side with ease.

His mouth attacked you like he waited for exactly this for half an eternity. You fell back, hardly having enough strength to hold yourself up against his legs. The sound that left your lips was barely there.

His tongue moved in impatient circles, tickling every nerve-end you possessed.

“Oh God. Oh God.”

He didn’t let up. Not for a second. No mercy.

He sucked and lapped until he was sure he had drained you of every last bit of your sanity. And he didn’t stop until he felt you tremble and nearly rip his hair out. You rode out your release against his tongue like your life depended on it. And once you finally came back to your senses, he stopped.

But you didn’t have time to catch your breath.

He scooped you up in his arms and practically threw you onto the bed, on your back. Your arms encircled him and he kicked his boxers off in record speed.

“I’m throbbing.” He murmured against your neck. “I need to fuck you, baby.”

He was already pushing up against your entrance, when you lifted your hips to meet him in the middle. He groaned into your ear and began to move. Slowly. Ever so slowly did he finally enter you. It took you a moment to adjust to his size, to remember how to. It had been weeks, after all.

“Fuck…”

You had no idea where you ended and he began, because he kissed you again and everywhere. His lips were on your cheek, your neck, the corner of your mouth.

“You’re so fucking big.”

He snorted and his head dipped forward to hide against your chest. “Dumbass.”

You laughed, but it didn’t last long, because the second you felt his tongue run over breast, you inhaled instead.

He started moving, gently at first and soon, he was chasing his impending release.

“So fucking tight.” He breathed, before his lips found yours again. You moaned into his mouth, your nails drawing whole paintings on his back. He moved more urgently, like he was trying to split you in two. He kept hitting the right spot with just the right intensity, until-

“I’m so close!”

He groaned again and moved the exact same way until he felt the way your nails dug into his skin and your mouth hung open, pressed against his shoulder. You clenched and shuddered and moaned out his name. It was enough to make him growl.

“Take it, baby. Take it. Take…It…” He exploded inside of you, painting your walls in the color of his desire, his heat, his need to be one with you.

You kissed his chest, his neck, his lips, until you were sure he was done. When he was, he collapsed on top of you, just careful enough not to crush you.

“Let go.” You whispered breathlessly. “I want to feel you.”

He hesitated, but eventually he let himself fall. Your arms wrapped around him loosely and your breath was still coming in quick pants.

“Just a moment longer.” You whispered gently. “Don’t go yet.”

“I won’t, baby.”

He kissed your forehead then with the utmost gentleness.

You sighed deeply and curled into him like a cat. For just these few minutes he made you remember how good it could sometimes feel to be alive.

And to be his.

[thebestsetter]

Thinking about (lovesick) Hiori Yo keeping a diary.

His parents have always been emotionally unavaible. For them, Hiori was nothing more nothing less than an experiment, the one destined to be what they've always wanted to be and yet never managed to acomplish: someone who wears the title of being "the best in the world".

He also didn't have much (if any) friends. All his time was dedicated to football practice, so the only people he talked to (aside from his parents) were his teammates. And they were nice, sure, but they were not his friends. They were more like acquaintances. The only one he could really call a friend was one of his teammates, Karasu Tabito, and even so he still didn't feel comfortable enough talking to him about the complex thoughts he had.

Because of that, he's never had anyone to talk with. No one to confide about his feelings and emotions. No one to talk about how he wanted to leave his home house (that place didn't feel like a home). How his parents fucked up his sanity. How he didn't really like football that much.

He couldn't keep all these things inside his head anymore. He needed to pour these feelings out. That's why he decided to start a diary.

Grabbing an old notebook and one of those common blue pens, he started writing. The diary was his most treasured possession. It stayed locked inside his bedside table, being away from all of the prying eyes.

Writing felt good. He wrote about his strained relationship with his parents. About soccer practices. About gaming tips. About pretty much everything.

His thoughts about many different themes were written there. That's why his journal didn't really have a specific theme.

Well, at least in the beggining it didn't have.

Because ever since a month or so, all the pages on his diary began to revolve around a girl. You.

He met you during a rather boring math class. The teacher was rambling on and on about algebrics or whatever, and time seemed to freeze because of how utterly shitty the endless class seemed.

"His explanation sucks, doesn't it?"

He heard a female voice coming from beside him. When he turned to the direction of the sound, he saw the prettiest girl he had ever met.

Her hair framed her face perfectly, it's color matching her eyes in the most beautiful way Yo had ever seen. The smile she had on her face seemed to shine, and Hiori found himself smiling back, too.

"Yeah" he sighed, then looked back at the teacher

"I just wish the old hag would shut up"

"I wish he would just shut up"

They spoke at the same time.

Looking at eachother, they both began to laugh. Hard. Clutching your stomach and tearing up kind of laugh. Snorting like a pig laugh. Wheezing. Hitting the table with your fist to try and stop with the loud laughing, but being phisically incapable of stopping.

"Hiori Yo and (Name) (Lastname). Do you want to share with the class what made you laugh so hard? I'm sure they want to laugh to."

"N-No, mister. We're sorry. We-We'll stop" you answered, still trying to stiffle your laugh

"Do not interrupt my class again, or else I'll send you both to the principal's office"

"Okay sir." Hiori answered, not believing a word the teacher said but still a little scared to have his parents find out he went to the principal's office

"Hiori Yo, huh?" You said "It suits you"

"Thank you, miss (Name) (Lastname)." Hiori smirked "Your name is very pretty. It also suits you"

"Oh, so you think I'm pretty?" You smirked, a mischevious and playful glint on your eyes.

"N-no!" Hiori blushed hard, averting your gaze. His accent got stronger like it always did when he became nervous, and he was quick to correct himself "I-I mean, yes! You're very pretty! B-but I didn't mean to say t-that. Not that you're not pretty! Is just that..."

He was interrupted by the sound of your laugh mixed with the bell signalizing the end of the school day. It's obnoxious sound was such a contrast from your sweet, honey-like melodic laugh.

"Don't worry, I was just teasing you!" You smiled at him, grabbing your backpack and getting up "Well, see you on the next advanced math period, mister Hiori Yo"

You then quickly left, leaving behind a red and speechless Hiori.

He has been obsessed in love with you ever since. He wanted to be with you all of the time, no exceptions. You were just so nice! It seemed like his problems disappeared when you were near. Life seemed brighter, and even his parents noticed the change in his behavior. He was more carefree, happier, lighter.

And never once did he forget to write in his diary. In fact, he wrote about you so much he decided to rip the pages about his parents and other things and make the journal solely based on you.

He wrote about the dates he wanted to go to with you. Wrote about how he wanted to hold hands with you, kiss you till you're both breathless, stargaze with you, game with you. Do basically everything with you.

He detailed how he wanted to confess to you: you would both be in a park, having a picnic, when he would suddenly pull a bouquet from his backpack and put his feelings on the table, making it clear he viewed you as more than a friend. And then you'd laugh and say you like him too, making fun of his strong accent and how much effect you had over him.

Not that he'd mind. As long as your attention was on him, you could humilliate him all you want. He was pathetic.

He even wrote about your wedding, the petunias he wanted to give you and how Hiori (Name) had such a nice ring to it.

He wrote everything in his diary. And that was his fatal flaw.

Because he also wrote about how he wanted to spend his practice time with you. How he wanted to give up on soccer and move in with you to a house on the countryside, just you and him. How he sometimes skipped practices just to go out with you.

"Mom? Dad?"

He would never have thought that, one day, he would forget to lock the diary up. And who would've guessed it would fall in the hands of his parents, who have no idea of privacy.

"Yo, we need to talk about this"

When Hiori saw the notebook in his dad's hand, he swallowed dry. He felt like crying just by imagining what they wanted to discuss about.

Maybe they didn't read it. Yeah, maybe they still respected their son, at least a little bit.

"W-what? How did you..."

"It was on your bed." His mom answered, a stern expression on her face "me and your father came to an agreement after reading it, and..."

"You read it?!" Hiori was furious and sad at the same time. Not surprised, no. He knew they would've done this. "You can't do this! My personal thoughts are in there! It's my diary! You're invading my privacy!"

"Bullshit. Teenagers do not have nor need privacy" his father cut him off "Whatever. What matters is that we read about that (Name) girl. And we've decided..."

No. He can say anything but what he thinks they're bout to say. He can't handle that.

"We don't want you around that girl anymore. She's getting in the way of your football practices. That's why...

We're moving you to a different school."

No...

No.

NO!

"No she's not!" Hiori screamed, pleaded. He wished that for once his parents would listen to him, think about his feelings at least one time. "I love her! I swear I'll do double the practice! Just, please. Please don't do this" his voice was wavering. He was weak. "Please don't keep her away from me. Please."

"We do this cause we know what's best for you. We're your parents. We know you better than yourself." His mom tried to reason.

"No you don't!" Hiori screamed "She's the best thing that has ever happened to me! You can't do this to me! You can't decide these things in my behalf!"

"We're your parents. We can and we did. End of discussion." His dad gritted out, not an ounce of empathy in his face. "And we also decided you're not keeping a diary anymore. We don't want you hiding things from us."

With a swift move, he threw the notebook inside the fireplace.

"NO!" Hiori screamed, running to collect the ashes and try to save the diary, but it was already too late.

In his knees in front of the fire, Hiori cried. The flames were dancing around as if mocking his sadness, laughing at his disgrace.

He stayed there for so long he lost track of time. His parents were no longer in the room, deciding to finally give their son space. But he didn't want space.

He wanted you.

He stayed motionless until the last flame was unstinguished. And when it finally was, so was his hope for a better future. A future without his parents playing with the strings of his life all the time, treating him like a puppet. A future with no pain.

A future with you.

And so, a single page that survived flew and fell in front of him.

He picked it up.

Dear diary,

I think I can make up with my parents. I didn't told her about the whole situation since I don't want to burden her, but from what she heard, (Name) said we just need to talk. And maybe she's right. Maybe they'll like her just as much as I do, and we can be a big happy family. She makes me feel like everything is possible. I'm sure I love her, and I want to spend all my time by her side...

He couldn't read it anymore.

With a scream, Hiori tore the page apart.

~A/N: Sorry anon, idk how to write angst ☹️

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