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[lightseoul]

CHAPTER 7 | ALL OUT OF LUCK

w.c. 5.3k (jesus. this is the longest one yet)

tags. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), lots of cussing, some minor timeskip manga spoilers, slightly nsfw themes, mentions of food, bakugou katsuki is bad at feelings, feelings—lots of 'em, the true calm before the storm, shit's about to go down!!!

a/n. we're so back, y'all!!! this one took me a while, i have to admit. it even got to a point where i thought i'd just leave this series unfinished for a plethora of reasons. but after clawing through a few sessions of barely being able to write anything, i was struck with the vision of how to get the chapter going in the middle of a massage lol. the rest was history. that said, i'd love to know your thoughts so far, so please don't be a stranger <3 (comments keep me going. btw. not to sound like a slut)

links. masterlist, ao3

You ended up not getting home until past 8 PM that Monday.

After you successfully used your quirk on Kirishima and Hiroto, resulting in the transfer of that fated scrap of paper containing the attack’s details, Kaminari insisted that you hang out after lunch and make the most of your day off until everybody relented. Bakugou was uncharacteristically quiet—you noted—even as the electric hero whisked the six of you away to the nearest mall where you shopped and visited a KTV spot afterward.

You didn’t expect to spend hours watching the four goof off and sing their hearts out while Bakugou sat silently to the side, although time passed by faster than you thought it would anyway. The group eventually parted ways at around 6 PM, after which you and Bakugou decided to eat at a ramen restaurant where you sat yourselves by the counter so you wouldn’t have to force conversation.

Hiroto shadowed the two of you the entire time, up to the instant when you and Bakugou entered a darkened spot in the outdoor parking lot to wait for the twin to message Kouki and have the old man teleport you back to headquarters. You didn’t have to wait for too long—you were gone and right back at the front of your bedroom in a matter of minutes, bug-less and cameras covered another minute after.

And only as you stripped off your going-out clothes for the day in the privacy of the bathroom did it sink in—how you actually did it.

You actually transmitted the message.

And as much as it fucking sucks, the most you can do now—at least until D-Day—is to put your faith in Kirishima and the rest of the pro-heroes who will be tasked with stopping this act of genocide altogether.

Easy enough…

Right.

The next day—Tuesday—starts typically as the others have transpired in the last two weeks-ish of living in the headquarters: violently woken by a twin’s knocking, then scrambling to seem like you were sharing the bed, to promptly getting ready for and having breakfast at the mess hall.

Just like how every day’s been in this supremacist hellhole, everything goes by like clockwork.

That is, up until Omiru walks up to your usual table just as you are about to take your last chug of water after downing your substantial plate of pancakes.

You peer at her from over the rim of your glass, cautious—and rightfully so. Beside you, Bakugou puts down his utensils and straightens up in his seat. Neither of you says anything, opting to let her speak first instead.

And when she finally does, she’s looking straight at no one but Bakugou.

“Follow me.”

At that, you glance at the pro-hero in question, who only shoots the twin a stern look before nodding curtly. You watch him as he gathers his tray and stands up, and you’re about to move and follow suit when Omiru’s voice stops you in your tracks.

“Not you,” she spews pointedly. “Just him.”

From where you are half-sitting with your ass frozen mid-air, you blink at the woman. “What?”

“Masaki-san needs him at the private training facility, pronto,” comes her terse reply, sounding more impatient by the minute. “He’s not to be disturbed.”

Your face contorts in displeasure before you can think better against it. Then, schooling it into a more neutral expression, you shake your head as you finally straighten up, willing your voice to stay firm. “Whatever you have to say to him you can say to me, too.”

Omiru opens her mouth to most likely snap at you for wasting more and more of her time, but she doesn’t get to do that because you’re both silenced by a sudden hand on your forearm. You whip to look at Bakugou, and his lips are pressed into a thin line as he nods again—only this time, at you—as if that was all the explanation you needed.

“It’s okay,” he offers, his voice low. “I’ll come and look for you by the time we’re done.”

You can only stare at him, tamping down the incredulity that’s creeping up your throat.

Since when did he decide to be Mr. Calm and Collected?

As much as you want to, you don’t question him, though, knowing it will cause more harm than good. You’re so close to the day of the operation, and the last thing you need is to blow your cover.

So instead, and with a wary heart, you nod back at him, before leaning in and pressing a quick peck on his cheek.

“Take care, babe,” you say timidly, grateful he took the kiss just now like a champ—with little to no faltering.

“I will,” comes his weirdly soft response, before he steps out of his seat and trails behind Omiru, leaving you and your tray of empty plates.

You move to tuck the stretchy fabric into the rest of the contorted arrangement you’ve got going on—folding your panties was the most you could think of doing to keep your mind off the anxiety that’s been gnawing at you the entire day, after all—and plop it on your pile of fresh undergarments.

Or at least, you were going to do that, when the door to your bedroom suddenly bursts open, and you startle so badly, that the neat stack of underwear crumbles like a poorly built Jenga tower on top of the bed.

You scramble to hide them behind you just as Bakugou emerges from the hallway, and the very first thing that registers when your eyes land on him is that he’s fucking drenched.

In sweat. Drenched in sweat.

And, to your chagrin, he must’ve noticed you gaping at him because his gaze drifts over to meet yours after he closes the door behind him. “What?”

You blink at him, suddenly yanked out of your dumb stupor. “Nothing—it’s just…” you trail off, now trying to ignore the weirdly scandalous way his wet shirt is clinging to his muscled torso. You knew his hero costume accentuated and therefore showcased a built body from the chance encounters about him in the news, but seeing it through an almost translucent cover-up…

“Just what?”

You gulp, bringing your eyes back up to meet his unnervingly scrutinizing ones.

…Why is he looking at you like that?

Instead of dwelling on the thought, though, you manage to voice out the question you and the imaginary mouse in your pocket are wondering. “W-why are you so… sweaty?”

Now, if he’s offended by how that came out just a breadth’s hair away from sounding disgusted, he doesn’t let it show. Instead, he crosses the short distance between him and your small wardrobe and flings it open.

“I thought you were smarter than that, princess,” comes his casual reply, and you find yourself stiffening—not just at the nickname, but at what came before that.

You frown, although he doesn’t see it with his back turned against you. “I don’t get how you’re being so nonchalant today,” you say so honestly you shock yourself, voice lowered out of instinct despite having made sure that there are no extra bugs in the room.

Whatever Bakugou expected for a response—it must’ve been anything but that—because he stops rifling through his clothes and whips to look at you, a mild expression of surprise written across his features.

But before he can say anything to that, you beat him to it. “What did they make you do, Bakugou?”

He opens his mouth to say something, but pauses before he can get a word out. You watch the man as he stands there for a second, the metaphorical gears in his head spinning loud enough that you can practically hear them. You can tell they’re still turning a beat later, even as he closes the wardrobe behind him and turns to fully face you.

“I—” he starts, hesitant, “I thought you would’ve figured.”

“Figured what?” You’re getting impatient now.

“That I was called on to start making the bombs.”

Oh.

The realization dawning on you must be evident in your profile because Bakugou nods as if in confirmation. “I was anticipating they’d call me in sooner or later, so I wasn’t surprised when that twin approached us during breakfast.”

Fuck, you feel stupid.

How you’re feeling is none of Bakugou’s business, though, so you will yourself to dip your head to show you understand. “I totally forgot about the bombs,” you admit.

“Yeah, well, I don’t blame you,” he turns again and resumes busying himself with the cabinets. “They did their research and found out my bombs are more explosive the fresher they are. Explains why they waited ‘til the last minute.”

Huh.

“I guess that also explains why you look like an over-glazed doughnut.”

That makes him bark out a laugh. “More like a wet dog, but I’ll take that.”

You’re about to say that no, he definitely looks more like an over-glazed doughnut, but then you remember you’d rather fail this mission and cause massive destruction before you go off admitting he looks…maybe just a tiny bit delectable in this state.

You’re back to avoiding the sight of…him—altogether—in silence, when Bakugou glances at you over his shoulder. “Can you pass me my towel?”

“Sure,” you say as you fetch it from where it’s hung across the couch’s backrest before padding back toward him.

You hand it over. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

Now it’s your turn to stand somewhat awkwardly behind him as he finishes up gathering his change of clothes for the night. There’s one more thing you need to ask him.

Anytime now.

You take a sharp inhale just as he whirls to face you, expectant. You muster a small smile, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I was just gonna ask—they didn’t hurt you, did they? You were treated okay?”

Your stomach instantly drops when the expectant look just now morphs into a smirk. “I think you underestimate my ability to protect myself, princess.”

You feel yourself flame. “I—” you stammer, wildly caught off guard, and his grin widens. You then frown, resigned. “Come on, man, not cool.”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, sounding far from apologetic, “‘m sorry. Though, you should’ve seen the look on your face.”

“That’s it,” you raise your hands in mock surrender, spinning to gather your folded underwear that are still scattered on the bed. “They can go ahead and snip off your balls, for all I care.”

“Damn, that escalated quickly.”

You only toss him a sarcastic smile as you take up the spot beside him, opening your tiny drawer and dumping the articles into them before he can get a closer glimpse. The last thing you need is for him to see your threadbare, granny panties.

Bakugou chuckles again, the indication of his mirth the last sound that echoes in the room before a quiet envelops the two of you, the atmosphere taking a sudden shift.

“How about you, huh?” he suddenly asks, almost making you jump. You raise an eyebrow at him, still not quite past his earlier teasing.

He doesn’t react with hostility, though, only shrugging in response. “Are you okay?”

“Me?” you parrot lamely, shocked at his query.

To your disbelief, he doesn’t roll his eyes or shoot you a derisive quip, only nodding—an unmistakable, serious glint in his crimson gaze. You gulp despite yourself.

“It was pretty much the same for me, I guess. Except there weren’t as many people around…”

You falter, debating whether or not you should tell him the more incriminating truth. But then you make the mistake of meeting his penetrating stare and then suddenly, it all comes tumbling out.

“I—I was worried about you.”

That takes Bakugou by surprise, his brows shooting up in a profound display of bewilderment. An abrupt pang of embarrassment shoots through you at the sight, and you scurry to save face.

“Looks like there was no need, though, considering how you’re joking around and being an ass and all,” you jest, taking the hoodie you were meaning to get from the rack and closing your side of the wardrobe.

“I—”

“Good night, Bakugou,” you cut him off, plopping yourself on the couch with your back turned against him, effectively shooting the conversation down.

Needless to say, you struggle to sleep that night.

As if she knew you fell into a fitted slumber and needed more goddamn sleep, Omiru was already up and banging at your door five minutes earlier than usual the morning after, ripping you out of your sluggish haze. It didn’t help that it was your turn on the couch that night—which, even after all this time of dozing there, still proved to be quite unforgiving to your neck and lower back, especially. Once you were all ready and had opened the door, though, your usual routine was done but not before a rundown on what was to happen that day. You were to pack your things and prepare to leave the headquarters by the time Bakugou was done producing the last batch of bombs.

She conveniently didn’t say when that was, opting to whisk Bakugou away instead.

So without any idea as to when you were making the move, you tried your best to keep busy—a task that proved to be herculean, seeing as how the number of people present had dwindled significantly, you could count them with just your fingers and toes.

It didn’t take you long to figure out why that was. The people who’ve gone—they were all teleported to their posts to prepare for tomorrow’s attack.

By batches.

Because, as it turns out, you were right. Kouki’s quirk does have a limitation.

He can only muster enough power to teleport a certain number of people—across a certain distance—a handful of times a day. It all depends on three factors: number, distance, and frequency.

And because Bakugou’s got important business as the organization’s very own human-bomb factory, you two will be transported later in the day as part of the last batch.

You mull over this newfound information—again and again, mainly because there really isn’t much else to do other than pack—until, unbeknownst to you, the clock on the wall strikes five. You jump from where you are seated on the sofa when, as if on cue, the door bursts open, revealing a yet again sweaty Bakugou, with Kouki and the twins tailing closely behind him.

“Just let me take a quick shower and finalize my stuff,” Bakugou offhandedly says, eyeing you as he picks up his towel, not wasting even a modicum of a second. “Then we’ll get going to my place.”

His what?

“Sorry?” you manage to ask, acutely aware of the panic that’s rising in your throat—fast.

Bakugou peers at you for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face. But then he’s chuckling—oh so naturally, like your reaction was adorable to him rather than potentially detrimental to your covers—as he walks toward you.

And then he’s leaning down and into your space, a warning look in his eyes. You barely catch a glimpse of it before he leans even further and kisses your cheek, smiling as he pulls away.

“My place, baby,” he coos, “Where we’ll stay the night.”

“Here we are,” Kouki announces just as the floor beneath you rematerializes, light and markedly spotless as compared to the nicked, hardwood floors you’ve grown to be familiar with over the past weeks. You look up, a faint trace of dizziness clouding your mind still, although it’s quickly replaced by awe as you take in the rest of the room.

Dropping your luggage to the side, you make quick work of what can only be Bakugou Katsuki’s living space.

Well, it’s just what you’d expect from the guy. Purposively designed, no-nonsense, and exceptionally pristine.

And closer to the Prime Minister’s Office. At least, as compared to your more modest home, which is why you’re even here in the first place.

Regardless, you were about to compliment the man for being an outlier of the male population when you suddenly remember that you’re supposed to be well-acquainted with his high-rise apartment unit. You know, as his girlfriend?

You slam your mouth shut, just as Kouki steps forward and turns to face the rest of you like a commander in the military. You fight the urge to roll your eyes.

“Big day tomorrow,” he declares, his trademark haughtiness heavy in his tone. “The four of you, review your assignments and be ready by 6 AM sharp. I’ll pick you up here.”

Then, a pointed look toward you and Bakugou. “Don’t be late.”

And just as quickly as you teleported into the pro-hero’s unit, Kouki vanishes, leaving the two of you with the twins.

Silence.

“That man’s got a bug up his old ass, that’s for sure.”

You whip to face Bakugou, surprised and equal parts amused. He only tosses you a smug look, as if daring you to question him.

You don’t, similar to how you don’t dare spare either of the twins a worried glance.

“We should order,” Bakugou says not a minute later, effortlessly picking up your belongings and transferring them to an empty spot beside a door. “I cleared out the ref two weeks ago. ‘m out of groceries.”

“Sure,” you reply, seating yourself comfortably on his sofa like you’ve been here countless times. You sense all three pairs of eyes studying you as you burrow into the plush cushion, willing every neuron in your system to relax. “How ‘bout from that restaurant we went to with the squad? I’m craving some curry.”

“Aha,” Bakugou smirks as he walks over and throws his butt down way too close beside you. “So you did want to switch.”

You bristle, if not at being unceremoniously caught then at how he just slung an arm over the backrest behind you. “T–That’s beside the point,” you argue, before swiftly turning to Hiroto. “Can we have our phones for just a sec, please? We need to order.”

If Bakugou noticed your smooth segue slash redirection just now, he doesn’t point it out, instead letting you take your smartphones from the absurdly tall man without much of a hassle. You quickly place your orders—even asking the twins what they want despite how badly they’ve treated you since your first meeting at that dingy club.

You’re not a monster, after all.

They seem to think you are, though, because they blatantly ignore your kind offer.

Well, then. If they have a hard time falling asleep because of hunger later then that’s not your problem anymore.

Not even thirty minutes after ordering, your food arrives, and the twins end up allowing Bakugou to go down the lobby by himself to fetch the delivery. You almost groan when he walks through the door with the goods in tow, the strong waft of curry sauce filling the air and making your stomach churn in budding anticipation.

“You’re not helping your case, babe,” Bakugou teases as you excitedly pore over the takeout bag, reaching into it to grab your share and then his.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you over this glorious smell,” you quip, which grants you a chuckle.

No more words are exchanged as you get started on your feast, too wiped out from today’s activities—Bakugou and his bomb production and your…well, trying not to go crazy—to even start, let alone maintain, a steady conversation. The room is silent aside from some slurping and quiet chewing here and there, with neither Omiru nor Hiroto saying anything to break the monotony.

And you think it must be that—the quiet—that spurs the abrupt observation mid-spoonfeed of how domestic everything is. You wouldn’t have ever thought you’d be eating a meal with Bakugou in his dining room—high schooler you definitely wouldn’t have—but as it turns out life’s got a funny way of pulling the rug from underneath you and messing with your head.

Just like these muddy ass feelings.

No, you think to yourself. Now’s not the time.

Not when you’re barely able to stomach your food, anyway. You were—are hungry—if the incessant rumbling of your abdomen since late afternoon was any indication—but you forgot you’ve been sickeningly nervous the entire day. Still, you force each bite down. The last thing you need is to be frail tomorrow.

“Here,” Bakugou reaches out from across the table a few moments later, “Give me your plate.”

“No,” you say as you lift the empty ceramic further from him, “Let me help.”

Your plea falls on deaf ears, however, because Bakugou leans closer and snatches the dish from your hands before you can even scream a strangled wait! You must be looking stupefied, because Bakugou only smirks at you as he quickly gathers the dishes, beaming with pride as if having a ridiculously wide wing span is something he earned rather than was unjustly given.

“Unfair…” you mumble as you resort to gathering the trash instead, collecting it in the bag that the delivery came in.

“Just leave it there,” he calls out from the kitchen a few feet away, scraping the scraps off the platters. And when he’s realized you’re not listening: “Babe.”

You lift your hands like you’re a contestant in Master Chef and Gordon Ramsey just called time’s up, a petulant frown on your face. “Jeez, I’m just trying to help.”

“And I’m trying to be a gentleman,” comes his snarky retort. You bite back the urge to snort. “Go unpack in the bedroom while I finish up here,” he orders, “I’ll be quick.”

Please don’t be is your visceral reaction, although you manage not to say it out loud. You need at least ten minutes—give or take—of being alone in his bedroom to come to terms with this precarious situation you’ve been dealt with. You manage to reply with a small ‘okay’ before heading over to grab your things, very much cognizant of the ticking clock.

But then it dawns on you that you don’t have any idea where his fucking bedroom is.

You pause mid-bend, pretending you’re studying the hard case of your luggage for non-existent scratches. You know that there are three doors, not counting the one Bakugou went in and out from to get your food. One has to lead to the common restroom, another to his home office slash gym that you’ve heard him talk about once during your lunches at the headquarters, which leaves the last one as his bedroom’s entryway.

Hurry up, your brain tells you. You’re getting suspicious.

Wait.

You let your mind flash back to a while ago, a few moments after you arrived here. ‘We should order,’ was what Bakugou said, as he conveniently hefted your bags to this spot here, which must be right beside…

The bedroom door.

Bingo.

You repress a sigh of relief when you’re greeted with the sight of a massive mattress upon turning the knob, wasting no time as you squeeze into the threshold with your belongings. You were about to shut the door behind you when a female voice calls out your name out of nowhere, and you startle. Turning to face who must’ve been Omiru, you’re quick to put on a nonchalant facade, as if she didn’t just scare you in your metaphorical boots.

“Your tracker,” she says flatly when you don’t move an inch.

“O–oh. Right.”

You stand in place as she goes over the motions while Hiroto does the same with Bakugou. You’ve gone through this so many times that you don’t even wince when she rips out the device, instead only giving her a quick thanks and a rare good night when she steps away.

She doesn’t say it back.

You take that as your cue to go back into Bakugou’s sleeping quarters, and only when the weighty slab of wood is closed behind you do you let out a heavy exhale, suddenly feeling the fatigue that’s been looming over you since last night in its entirety.

But then that’s immediately booted out with a shot of adrenaline when you see it.

The couch.

Or the lack thereof.

You're still standing there—mortified—by the time Bakugou enters the room with his stuff, shutting the door and consequently granting you your first semblance of privacy for the day.

“What,” he says more than asks a minute later, when you still haven’t said anything.

“There’s no couch,” you croak-whisper.

You were not about to sleep on the floor.

You were not about to share a bed with Bakugou, either.

Not after you’ve spent the last two weeks slaving over your high-maintenance sleeping arrangement.

“Relax, dumbass,” comes his fluid retort. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think the man is finding this shit funny. “I have a futon.”

Turns out, he wasn’t lying—what feels like a huge burden lifted off your shoulders when he opens a cabinet to his right and pulls out a moderately thick cushion. You waste no time in assisting him, taking two corners while the pro-hero handles the other two, coordinating as you place the futon perpendicularly, right at the foot of the bed.

“Thanks,” you tell him when you’re done, dusting off your hands. “Do you have a blanket I can—”

“Too late,” he cuts you off, lightly diving into the mattress.

You gawk at the man. “Wha—”

“It’s your turn on the bed tonight,” he says as a matter of factly, not even bothering to look you in the eye. You splutter, but ultimately relent. As much as you want to argue, you do need some proper rest, especially after last night’s sorry attempt at recharging.

Thankfully, though, Bakugou doesn’t rile you up any further as you each go through your nightly routines and take turns in the built-in bathroom, careful not to invade each other’s spaces. It hasn’t even been fifteen minutes and you’re already both plastered and tucked in your respective beds, the occasional noises from the traffic tens of floors below you the only thing filling the otherwise empty air.

But as it turns out, the getting ready for bed part isn’t the problem.

By the time it’s 10 PM, you’ve already tossed and turned roughly twenty times, agonizingly nowhere near asleep despite the luxurious bedding beneath your limbs. It’s after the 21st time, though, that you finally let your mind wander to the man on the floor and whether or not he’s asleep. He must be—having been tuckered out from producing explosives for two days straight. Still, your mind refuses to let go of the thought—brimming with boredom-fueled curiosity that’s begging for visual confirmation.

Sitting up carefully, you strain to peek at Bakugou. He’s been awfully quiet, you think to yourself.

Just a little bit more—

“Can’t sleep?”

You freeze. Shit.

“Uh, no,” you reply, aborting mission and lying back down as silently as possible. “Not really.”

“No shit. I heard you, the last twenty times.”

“Twenty-one,” you correct him. “But who’s counting?”

That earns you a laugh. “What, you scared?”

Your face reflexively contorts in offense, although it’s quick to fall when you realize you’ve actually no right to be offended. “If I told you I was, would that make me a loser?”

To your surprise, his answer is instant. “Nah.”

At that, your brows furrow. “That’s it? Just nah? No what do you think, princess, or some other equally lame taunt?”

“Oooh.” Jesus, you can practically hear him smirking. “You want me to call you princess?”

“There it is. Welcome back, Bakugou.”

A chuckle. “You’re a little shit, you know that?”

You snort. “So I’ve been told.”

Then, a pause.

“Hey,” you start again a few beats later, gaze fixed—unwavering—on the gray ceiling, “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

You gulp. “Are you scared?”

This time, the answer is not as instant, but it appears to remain the same. “…No.”

“Really?” you ask, voice inadvertently teeming with incredulity.

You hear some rustling, like he’s shrugging against the bedsheets. “I’ve gone through much worse.”

Oh…

Right.

He did die and came out as one of the most important heroes of the major war, alongside formidable people—the very people you tapped to help you just a few days ago. Maybe he’s right not to be scared.

“Is it my turn now?” he pipes up suddenly.

Huh? “Your what?”

“My turn to ask a question.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize we were taking turns.”

“Well, we are now.”

You roll your eyes, comfortable in the knowledge that he can’t see you. “Okay, then. Go ahead.”

Now—don’t go ahead, is what you would have said, had you fucking known what he was going to say next.

“That day before winter break—” he begins, and you find yourself instantly tensing.

Fuck, no.

He huffs. “—You were gonna confess to me, weren’t ya?”

Fuck.

A deafening silence falls upon the room.

A silence that goes on for what must be a decade.

Then—

“…Is this some hidden camera prank or something?” you laugh dryly.

“No,” he says so seriously your eyes widen. “I was just…thinking about it.”

Well, fuck. Now he’s done it.

What are you supposed to do? Or say to that? Deny it and say, dude, no, you’re delusional? Or ask him where he got the motherfucking audacity and call it a day?

But then the strangest thing happens and an inexplicable feeling washes over you, one that is too nostalgic it’s almost painful.

Ah, yes.

You remember this one.

It wasn’t the first one to show up in the scene, but it was quick to envelop every other emotion afterward, lingering with you until the soothing balm that is time did its magical work and helped you forget.

The regret of not being able to admit your feelings.

And now, a full ten years later, you’re suddenly thrust with the opportunity to finally do what you failed to do then.

You don’t even have to think about it.

“Yes,” you rasp out, heart thrumming frantically against your chest. “I mean, the answer is yes, I was going to. Luckily you didn’t let me get to the embarrassing part, though, huh?”

“Look, I—”

“If you’re gonna apologize,” you cut him off, “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Bakugou. That thing’s in the past now. I’ve moved on, as fucking cheesy as it sounds.”

You then chuckle, ignoring the way your hands are stubbornly shaking. “That was just a silly high school crush, anyway.”

“Yeah, well—” he clears his throat, “I get it if you don’t want to talk about it. But…I do still want to apologize, though. For that first day, around two weeks ago.”

“What about it?”

“You don’t remember? I was an ass to you.”

First day? You don’t—

But then it all comes rushing to you—the intimidating looks, the backhanded remarks, the outright insulting comments.

He sniggers. “You just remembered now, didn’t you?”

You blanch. “I—”

“Don’t try to be nice,” he preempts. “I know I fucked up. It’s just—it was a lot to take in, and I took it out on you.”

He heaves a heavy sigh. “First it was having my past rehashed, and then when I met you I got reminded of how arrogant I was as a kid and it just felt like—”

“A slap to the face?”

Another huff. “Exactly.”

You smile—genuinely—this time wishing you were face to face so he could get a good view of it. You try to let it show in your voice instead.

“Thank you for telling me, Bakugou. Apology accepted.”

A sigh of relief. You feel your smile grow bigger.

“Now go to sleep, dumbass,” he spits, the vulnerability from just a second ago long gone, now replaced by his signature snark. “You heard the old geezer. Big day tomorrow.”

You can’t help it—you laugh.

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon @napbatata @k0z3me @h0ngh0ngh0ng @honeyoru @yoongiwithglasses @hellokitty-doll @lilsebnem @tetsuukuroo @crangrapel0ver @syrhra @qyuin | @junehasnotbeenfound @sugalarity @haechansbbg @sikuthealien @reiniella3 @ita606 @xoxoblueyy @mutsu422 @eyesforbkg @kalulakunundrum @venus-xxoo @lemuhr @pinkpantheris @ashers-playpen @bakugouswh0r3 @certaindreampost @3ve88 @tsumuus @4acoffee @anonymity-222 @lousypotatoes @homeless-clown @sk8wh33l @jungkookslittlecarrothoe @jax-the-oregonian @shosuki @reisore @babylambdietcoke @sleepyyhabii @adherethecomingofage @hakvyxo @squishybabei @gin-n-chronic-illness | @matchat3a @harryzcherry @h0nestly-though @cc1306 @gold24fish @bakukags @zennypiee @wannabewolf @kameko-ko @lovra974 @arc6021 @kooromin @surprisemodafakas @ilovedenk-i @st4ntwic3 @j1tterbugaboo @call-memissbrightside @arael-asuka @bakugosgothhoe @biancatomlinson @reads-stuff-quietly | @js-favnanadoongi @stxrrielle @panikk-attackkk @lotusstarr @ordola @simpforeveryone @typsichryle @arsonfrogger | @vitoshi @floverisland @confusedmomfriend @poemzcheng @cheezemanz @cax-per | @rorel1a @astolary @trashyforashy @sunaraii @reisore | @beepboopcowboy @kyluskaye | @moonz33

[theallianceofcelestials]

wows. That’s a lot of words, but good thing I was classified as gifted and talented in elementary (I had the reading skills of an 8th grader by 3rd, not to brag 😋).

Now, time for MY yapping 😈😈😈

I was sick for like two weeks during December (unfortunately, the week of Christmas and before), and now im sick AGAIN… so I guess me and Moongleam got smth im common rn lol. ALSOOOO, I got a monitor and my older brother’s old ps5, so I can FINALLY play games and use Blender, which has been my biggest dream since 2020- only took me 5 years to achieve! And im currently working on a few surprises in Blender for a couple of authors… *wink wink, nudge nudge* ah, but of course, let’s not forget a TikTok of mine that got TWO THOUSAND VIEWS, and 180 LIKES???? Im genuinely so happy that I made something that so many people liked… im gonna post it on my Sigma Anon blog later for sure. And I got a new bed after, again, 5 years. That bed was too big for my tiny room and the frame was broken. Like ACTUALLY broken- I couldn’t find half the screws and a few of the legs were shattered… idk how that even happened… but the bed served me well. OH HOW COULE I FORGET, MY BIRTHDAY IS ON THE 25th. That’s why I’m getting some new stuff. Im so excited, this year I get to actually do something I want… which is kinda nothing. I don’t like celebrating my birthday too much (my anxiety acts up and I hate having so many people look at me), but I like getting some new stuff- like clothes. I never thought I’d reach the age (or maturity), where’d I’d want clothes for my birthday, but here I am…

Anyways, I think that’s it for me… im glad I finally have someones to yap to, and I get to yap back for once :,) (also those nicknames are so cute, and are now my favorite out of the many nicknames I’ve had)

-Sigma Anon

First of all, happy birthday! (Sunray sends their well wishes as well)

Wow, it must be nice to know authors! I know none :D

On a bit more serious note, I don't know much about Blender, even if I know it's useful for game development, something I'm interested in. And well, I do have a couple ideas for games but first I should probably survive this year, and maybe actually start learning a game development engine or something. Start with the basics and all

Also, how in the seven hells did you not have a proper bed? I couldn't image not having one. I'm happy you have one!

Also reaching the age where clothes become exciting is so sad. I never thought when I was a kid that I'd be excited over fuzzy socks, but here I am.

[maikaartwork]

Artists, let’s talk about Instagram commission scammers

There’s been a huge rise in commission scammers recently, mostly on Instagram. A lot of new artists don’t know what to look out for, so I figured this might help people.

How they begin

Usually the scammer will write to you asking about a commission. Something deceptively cute - mostly I encounter asks about pet portraits, with one or two photos sent. They’ll probably try to sell you a sweet little story, like “It’s for my son’s birthday”. They will insist that they love your artwork and style, even though they don’t follow you or never liked a single piece of your art.

What to look out for:

Their profiles will either be private, empty, or filled with very generic stuff, dating at most a few years back.

Their language will be very simple, rushed or downright bad. They might use weird emojis that nobody ever uses. They will probably send impatient “??” when you don’t answer immediately. They’re in a crunch - lots of people to scam, you know. 

They’ll give you absolutely no guidelines. No hints on style, contents aside from (usually) the pet and often a name written on the artwork, no theme. Anything you draw will be perfect. Full artistic freedom. In reality they don’t really care for this part.

They’ll offer you a ridiculous amount of money. Usually 100 or 300 USD (EDIT: I know it might not be a lot for some work. What I mean here - way higher than your asking price, 100 and 300 are standard rates they give). They’ll often put in a phrase like “I am willing to compensate you financially” and “I want the best you can draw”, peppered with vague praise. It will most likely sound way too good to be true. That’s because it is.

Where the scam actually happens

If you agree, they will ask you for a payment method. They’ll try to get to this part as soon as possible. 

Usually, they’ll insist on PayPal. And not just any PayPal. They’ll always insist on sending you a transfer immediately. None of that PayPal Invoice stuff (although some do have methods for that, too). They’ll really, REALLY want to get your PayPal email address and name for the transfer - that’s what they’re after. If you insist on any other method, they’ll just circle back to the transfer “for easiest method”. If you do provide them with the info, most likely you’ll soon get a scam email. It most likely be a message with a link that will ultimately lead to bleeding you dry. Never, and I mean NEVER click on any emails or links you get from them. It’s like with any other scam emails you can ever get.

A few things can happen here:

They overpay you and ask for the difference to be wired back. Usually it will go to a different account and you’ll never see that money again. 

They’ll overpay you “for shipping costs” and ask you to forward the difference to their shipping company. Just like before, you’ll never see that money again.

The actual owner of the account (yes, they most likely use stolen accounts to wire from) will realize there’s been something sketchy going on and request a refund via official channels. Your account will be charged with fees and/or you get in trouble for fraudulent transactions. 

You will transfer the money from your PayPal credit to your bank account and they will make a shitstorm when they want their money back, making your life a living hell. They will call you a scammer, a thief, make wild claims, wearing you down and forcing you into wiring money “back” - aka to their final destination account. 

Never, EVER wire money to anyone. This is not how it’s supposed to go. Use PayPal Invoice for secure exchanges where the client needs to provide you with their email, not the other way around.

You can find more info on that method HERE.

What to do when you encounter a scammer:

Ask the right questions: inquire about the style, which artwork of yours they like, as much details as you can. They won’t supply you with any good answers.

Don’t let the rush of the exchange, their praise and the promise of insanely good money to get to you. That’s how they operate, that’s how they make you lose vigilance. 

Don’t engage them. As soon as you realize it might be a scam, block them. The sense of urgency they create with their rushed exchange, and pressure they put on you will sooner or later get to you and you might do something that you’ll regret later.

Never wire money to anyone. Never give out your personal data. Never provide your email, name, address or credit card info. 

Don’t be deceived by receiving a payment, if you somehow agree to go along with it. Just because it’s there now doesn’t mean it can’t be withdrawn. 

Here is a very standard example of such an exchange. I realized it’s a scam pretty fast and went along with it, because I wanted good screenshots for you guys, so I tried going very “by the book” with it. 

Please share this post, make it reach as many artists as possible. Let young or inexperienced artists know that this is going on. So many people have no idea that this is a thing. Let’s help each other out. If you think I missed any relevant info, do add it as an rb!

Also, if you know other scam methods that you think should be shared, consider rb-ing this post with them below. Having a master post of scam protection would AWESOME to have in the art community.

[mrsbarnesblog]

i am not the only one who saw that, right?

masterlist

summary: your friends find out that you secretly dating their enemy, but their opinion might completely change when they see Rafe from another point of view

words count: 2.2k

warnings: secret relationship, pogue!reader, attempted assault, mention of blood, soft and protective Rafe

a/n: inbox is open for requests💘

“You cannot be dating Rafe fucking Cameron, Y/N!” John B exclaimed, burying his hands in his hair and walking all around the place. 

“No, seriously, this is not a good idea.” Sarah looked at you, giving out a nervous laugh. 

You were currently surrounded by your friends, who were all practically yelling at you after they accidentally saw a message from Rafe on your phone. You were one of the pogues; you never hanged out around the kooks, but somehow, when you were visiting Sarah a few months ago, you got into a random conversation with Rafe, and since that moment, the connection between you two has only gotten stronger. 

It was an instant click and as much as you both tried to deny the spark, it was there. As you started going out, secretly from everyone, of course, you decided to keep it private until the right time. 

“Alright, guys, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I knew that this would be your reaction. It just happened, okay?” You rubbed the bridge of your nose, already feeling a headache from the tense situation. All of your friends were standing on the opposite side of you and it felt like they were just attacking you. 

“What were you thinking? You know that he hates people like us, like you. We are pogues, Y/N. How the hell did that even happen?” Kiara was standing with her hands on her hips, as her piercing eyes were studying you. You felt awful looking at Pope, who was the one who always supported you, but he just shook his head and stepped away. 

“I don’t know. It just happened. We talked once when Sarah left, then I accidentally met him a few times in town, and then he texted me. He’s not bad when you know him closer.” You sighed. “Look, I know Rafe was a lot of trouble for us. He did bad things; I know that. But he’s not like that; he’s sweet and caring, and he has never shown any sign of being disrespectful towards me. I just can’t deny my feelings for him.”

“Honey, Rafe is not a good person. He doesn’t care about anything or anyone; he’s evil, selfish and manipulative.” Sarah stepped closer to you, touching your hand. “He’ll play with you, hurt your feelings and just throw you away.”

“And he probably just wants to get into your pants.” JJ grumbled, also taking a defensive position. 

“I haven't even slept with him yet, JJ!” You desperately snapped at him. It felt ridiculous, like all of them turned against you at the same time. Sure, Rafe wasn’t the sweetest person to them before, but they didn’t even give you a chance to say something in your defense. “And you’re wrong too, Sarah. All of Rafe’s actions were just to get people’s attention and appreciation. All it took for me to get on his soft side was to just listen to him and give him some affection. Other people didn’t care enough, including you and your father. He needs someone who he can trust and open up to because he’s hurt.” 

“No, Y/N. If you think that he loves you, then he just got into your head. My brother doesn’t love anyone. It will end badly; I just know that.” 

Tears gathered in your eyes, and a lump in your throat made it difficult to say anything back, so you just stupidly stayed there. You had no strength to fight with all five of them at the same time. You turned around, silently getting back in the car, even though your head was filled with doubt and dark thoughts because of their words. 

For the next few days, it was tough for all of you. You and the rest of the group were still close, and even though they were completely against your relationship, you still met and hung out. The pit in your heart was still there, no matter how hard you tried to act nonchalant and not let their words get into your head. 

Rafe noticed the change in your behavior—that you were upset with something—but he didn’t put any pressure on you and allowed you to decide for yourself when you wanted to open up. 

Pogues decided to go to some party on the cut near the beach and as much as you tried to refuse, Sarah and Kiara managed to drag you there. You all rarely went to such places, preferring to hang out in your little circle, but apparently everyone wanted to clear their heads and saw it as the best opportunity. 

It was pretty fun with a bunch of people you did not know, some music, and drinks, and you mostly hung out with your friends. Though quickly it got overwhelming and made you want to go home or at least go outside of the house to get some fresh air. As you left your friends and wanted out from the backyard to a part of the beach, you didn’t notice the guy who had been eyeing you the whole evening. 

He came out of nowhere from your back, his arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you off the ground. You yelled at the sudden and unwanted touch, and your heart seemed to drop into your stomach when you realised that it wasn’t just a joke from JJ, who liked to scare you. You started wiggling in his hands to get free, but he was fighting you back, dragging you up when you fell to your knees on the ground. 

It was such a mess trying to scratch and punch him that you almost did not notice his hand coming into contact with your face several times. You screamed again, this time loud enough, until you saw JJ running towards you. The guy behind you pushed you away as soon as he saw someone, and you fell to the ground with a loud huff. 

“That fucking bastard!” JJ was right near you, helping you to get up as tears streamed down your face. He tried to comfort you, checking your body for any injuries, but you pushed his hands away, wrapping your own around yourself in a defensive way.

“Oh my god, Y/N!” You heard Kiara, along with your other friends, calling your name. “What the hell happened?”

“H-he attacked me.” You sniffed, trying to catch your breath and, with shaking hands, reaching to the pocket of your jeans shorts to get out your phone. All of them looked at each other, questioning your actions, until you pressed someone’s contact button and put the phone to your ear. “Can y-you pick me up, p-please?” You sniffed again, now trembling from the adrenaline. 

“Baby? Are you crying? Where are you?” You heard your boyfriend’s concerned voice through the phone, feeling how JJ tensed beside you. 

“I’m on the cut. Near the beach. There’s a party and... Please, Rafe.” 

“I’m coming, angel. Just wait for me, ‘kay?” You heard the sound of the car engine at the other end of the line. Rafe didn’t ask any more questions, and as soon as you mumbled quiet 'mhm’ he ended the call. 

You all heard him before you saw him. The sound of the tires drifting through the sandy street was loud, drawing attention to the expensive car that was unusual to see at this part of the island. 

Rafe didn’t bother to properly park, turn off the engine or even close the door when he saw you sitting on some old chaise lounge, with his sister and Kie trying to talk to you and your other friends arguing nearby. 

The girls stepped away from you as soon as they saw Rafe running towards you with a furious expression on his face and ready to deal with anyone who made you cry. It looked like he didn’t even care about the pogues, with whom he always had to get into arguments; he was fully focused on your shivering form.

“Baby, what’s wrong? What happened?” He squatted down in front of you, and you started sobbing again. Your hands immediately found their place around his neck, and, before he could even properly look at your face, you pulled him closer to get some sense of comfort from his warmth and smell. Rafe hugged you back, soothingly rubbing your back. His eyes shot towards your friends, who were watching in awe at the interaction. “Which one of you did that?”

“It’s not us, you idiot. Some guy jumped her when she walked outside.” Sarah said, rolling her eyes at her brother. “JJ heard screaming, and when we walked outside, he ran away.” Rafe pulled away, finally taking in your appearance.

Your knees were covered in dried blood mixed with the sand. He gently took your hands to see the palms scratched from you trying to catch yourself before hitting the ground. Rafe’s eyes were burning with fury, showing his side that he rarely revealed in front of you. His hand reached to move your hair from your face, noticing a red, now already turning purplish, bruise covering the side of your cheek.

“Holy shit, sweetheart.” He softly brushed his fingertips along your cheek and you leaned into the touch, closing your eyes. Your bottom lip started quivering and you bit inside your cheek to calm yourself down. “Sh-h im here, okay? You’re safe. Did you see him? What did he look like? Just tell me and I’ll deal with it.” He almost begged, but you only shook your head. JJ suddenly stepped closer, slightly hesitating to actually normally communicate with his longtime enemy,  but he thought that it was the least that he could do for you.

As much as he hated The Kooks King, JJ knew that Rafe was the best option to find the guy who hurt you. 

“Tall, with dark and curly hair. Never seen him before, probably someone new on the island, but I’ll recognize him.” They looked at each other for a moment, and Rafe just simply nodded, turning his attention back to you. 

“I’ll find him, ‘kay? I promise I will.” He gently took both of your hands in his, bringing them to his lips to place a soft kiss on your knuckles. “We should go now. I need to take care of your knees and that bruise, baby. You don’t mind going to Tanneyhill, yeah?”

“Thank you, Rafe.” You whispered, slightly bending forward to ask for a kiss. Rafe smiled at you, his thumbs gently swiped the leftovers of the tears under your eyes, and then he kissed you on your forehead, nose, and gently pecked your lips. 

Your heart flattered at his soft touches and for a second, it felt like you two were in your own little bubble. Rafe's eyes shimmered slightly in the moonlight, and the way he looked at you, soft and caring, made you want to kiss him again and again. You suddenly snapped out of the trance, looking back at your friends, who all had different levels of shock and uncertainty written on their faces. 

“C’mon, pretty girl.” Rafe stood up, lifting you in bridal style without an effort, carefully not to hurt your bleeding knees. He almost walked away, but then sighed, turning back to look at his sister. “You coming home with us or somethin’?”

“Um, no, I’ll be with John B. It seems like I would be third wheeling with you anyway.” She shrugged, not being able to keep a smile when you two met with your eyes. 

Rafe then looked at JJ, thinking his words over. “I appreciate it, Maybank.” 

They exchanged a tight nod, both slightly shocked that for the first time ever, they communicated without biting each other's heads off. You leaned closer to Rafe, comfortably nestling in his protective hands, and looked at your friends, who were still too shocked to say anything. 

“I’ll see you guys later, okay? 

Everyone agreed, saying goodbye to you and asking you to text them when you get there safely. They saw how Rafe made sure to slowly put you into the passenger seat, then circled the car and drove away. An awkward silence fell around them, everyone at a loss for words. 

“Okay, so I am not the only one who saw that, right?” Pope spoke first, looking around the place as if he were trying to find something. “Rafe freaking Cameron just was acting cute and didn’t threaten to do something to us?” His own body physically shrugged at the word ‘cute’.

“I don’t know, dude. We all just probably drank something and it’s messing with our heads.” 

[97kuu]

ONLY ON CAMERA

Part 2 here

summary; Jungkook and you keep your sexual relationship a secret—until his friends from the 97 line start betting on who can win you over first. Feeling jealous, he pulls you into a private room at the next awards show, claiming you as his. As he sends a video to the group chat, he makes it clear that you belong to him.

Au; fwb! Secrete rleationship au! ! Jungkookidolau! Readerpopularidolau!

wc 2k

warnings; slight plot, fwb, creamp^e, Riding, dirtyt^lk, descriptive s^x, mi^^ionary, lotus, recording, dub-con, time skips, a bet is placed, public S^x, rushed s^x, facial, q^ickie, clothed s^x, mentions of sweat. Slight manipulation on Jks part,

Edited

In the lotus position on the bed, Jungkook leans forward, drawing you even closer as he wraps his arms securely around your waist. Your chest is at the perfect level, allowing him to lower his head slightly and take a nipple into his mouth. His lips move with a mix of tenderness and intensity, eyes occasionally flicking up to meet yours, watching as you ride his cock in utter pleasure.

Your hands find their place on his shoulders, head falling slowly back as he grips your waist and you moan in ecstasy. Jungkook had what was no doubt the best cock you've had being in this industry and therefore had no difficulty changing plans and meeting at night at his or a random rental car for the hour. He was girthy, he had a good length that wasn't small nor too long. He curved slightly so that when you moved onto your knees and pushed him slightly back to lay down, you could ride him and he would automatically tease your G-spot with ease.

Crossing his arms behind his head, he watched as placed your hands on his chest. Applying pressure as you rocked your hips back and forth creating short waves of movement against him.Biting softly on his pierced bottom lip, Jungkook’s dark eyes locked with yours, a hint of mischief in his gaze. Slowly, he lowered his hands from behind his head, bringing them to rest on your hips. His fingers gripped you firmly yet tenderly, guiding your movements with practiced ease. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver up your spine as he leaned in slightly, his breath mixing with yours.

“You have no idea how amazing you look right now,” he breathes out, voice laced with desire. Listening to those words and that deep groan of his as your hips crashed down, followed by the arch of your back was utterly heaven to him.

“I could watch you like this forever,” he groans, barely holding back. His words sent a rush through you, making your body respond instinctively as you quickened your pace, completely overtaken by his voice. “That’s it, keep going—you’re taking me so well,” he encouraged his tone deep and approving, fueling your movements even more.

His grip tightness, he holds helps grind down on him harder as his precum spews inside of you without knowing. He sat up abruptly, tilting his head back in pleasure as you wrapped your arms tightly around his back. The light sensation of your touch sent him over the edge, and he released himself with deep, resonant groans, eyes squeezed shut as the feeling consumed him.

“Mmm, make yourself come on me, baby. I want to feel you using it as lube,” he instructed, panting as he moved to wrap his arms around your back, guiding your movements on his still-hardened length.

One thing you always noticed was that despite his high-trained stamina allowing him to go for endless rounds when he was on top, the moment you took control, it was as if his body couldn’t handle the intensity of the pleasure. It made him release quickly yet remain at his peak, ready for more. When you asked him why, he’d simply say, “That’s how attracted I am to you. You make me want to go for round after round.”

He lusted deeply after you, both when you were with him and when he could release the pent-up sexual frustration you sparked. It was the result of teasing voice messages where you’d moan his name and beg him to make you feel good. Even when alone, he found himself watching fan-made videos of your chest moving or replaying secret moments from nights spent in public places where you tried to stay silent as he thrust into you.

You were the idol that many men craved, even some of his friends, which made him both possessive and proud. The mutual desire between you quickly escalated from casual encounters to a full-fledged friends-with-benefits situation. It was a fitting label, though it never extended beyond the walls of the rooms or buildings where you met. The secrecy only heightened the thrill, making every moment that much more intoxicating.

Riding him in his apartment felt even more thrilling knowing that there were people who could potentially see or hear the sounds of his moans and the way your body surrendered to the pleasure he gave you.

The thought of being risky, even in the most mundane places, made you drip down his length, coating him as your core burned with the need for release. Your brows knitted together, eyes glazing over with pleasure as you bounced harder, driven by the rhythm of your racing heartbeat.

You couldn’t stop, couldn’t keep your gaze on him, and he loved that—wanted it, craved to see you unravel under his dark, intense stare. It was the same lowered gaze he had when he was serious or angry, and it always drove you to the edge, pushing you into a blissful orgasm. Your body moved on its own, continuing until it was completely satisfied with him buried deep inside, lost in a zone of euphoria.

As the rhythmic convulsions of your core squeezed and released around him, Jungkook groaned and hissed from the mix of pleasure and a touch of pain as you tightened around him. Watching you come undone on top of him, hips moving in slow, languid circles, drove him wild. His hands found your nipples, rubbing them in circles, knowing it would send waves of pleasure shooting down your body as he watched you consumed in ecstasy.

“Keep it up, baby. Your body feels too good, and I’m gonna use you how I want, making you cum until you can’t take it anymore,” he grunted, gripping your back and shifting you beneath him as he moved into missionary.

With your legs wrapped around his waist, he let out a growl of frustration and desire before you spread your legs wider for him, fully exposed and ready. He thrusts into you with an urgent need, pounding into you while you are still in the throes of that blissed-out, high state. The feeling was overwhelming, intense, like a rush that made the world spin, but it wasn’t anything other than him—just Jungkook, taking you deeper into that intoxicating pleasure.

As he thrusts, his voice low and steady says “That’s it, just like that… you’re so good for me.”The thrusts were deep but slow, each movement deliberate and controlled. He pushed inside with a steady force, every inch filling you, but it was the rhythm that drove the sensation. He’d pull back, almost completely, only to slide back in, slow and full, making sure each thrust hit the deepest part of you. The pace was measured, heavy, and purposeful, allowing the intense sensation to build gradually. His body moved with almost agonizing slowness, savoring each moment before he filled your cunt with warm oozing cum.

Pulling out, he placed a kiss on your chest and reached for the rag he placed prior to the bed to clean you up a bit, before helping escort you to take a shower with him. After all, you both were still close and were still a gentleman at heart.

A week later, jungkook was Jungkook sat at the bar, his hand wrapped around a cold bottle of Kloud, the rich, dark beer perfectly complementing the night’s relaxed yet lively atmosphere. He and some of his friends decided to get drinks in the middle of the night a few days before award season would begin in less than a few days.

Slightly stressed, but enjoying the night with a few people at a table he admitted the amber hue of the liquid glistening under the soft overhead lights as he tipped the bottle back, taking a long, deliberate sip. The slightly bitter, malty flavor settled on his tongue as he leaned casually against the counter, his eyes flicking between the conversations of his friends beside him.

The faint hum of music and low chatter filled the space, but he remained calm and composed, occasionally smirking at a joke or nodding in agreement. The way he held the beer, with confidence and ease, mirrored his grounded energy, even as the night buzzed around them.

“maybe somewhere towards the back” a familar voice, came closer.

Jungkook was mid-conversation, his voice steady and composed, when he suddenly heard it—the distinct tone of your voice cutting through the ambient noise of the bar. It was unmistakable, a sound that made his chest tighten and his face heat up. His reaction was immediate, a subtle flush creeping up his neck, but thankfully, the lively chatter around him gave him the perfect excuse to play it off.

He tilted his head slightly, pretending to adjust his seat, but his ears stayed tuned to you. And then it happened—your eyes locked with his. In that split second, it was like the world around him dulled, the electricity of your gaze grounding him and making his pulse race. His breath hitched, and he quickly glanced away, masking the flush creeping up his neck with a casual smirk and a deliberate sip of his beer. His grip on the bottle, however, betrayed him, tightening as if anchoring himself.

Leaning back in his chair, he took another measured sip, forcing his expression to remain neutral. His heart thudded against his ribs, but he played it off effortlessly, as though he hadn’t just felt the room tilt. To anyone watching, he seemed completely composed, but inside, the tension lingered—your presence pulling at him, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. After all nobody, not even the clolsesf of people here knew you hooked up once in a while or frequintly and he wanted to keep it that way. He wanted to keep it a secrete.

Playing it off he Tilted his drink slightly in your direction, Jungkook made a subtle point point with the bottom of his beer mug toward your table. “There,” he said under his breath, low enough that only his closest friend could catch it. It was an understated motion, almost unnoticeable, but the seriousness in his tone had his friends following his lead, their glances fleeting compared to the way his lingered. Still, Jungkook turned back quickly, focusing on his beer as if the moment hadn’t unraveled him entirely.

“Isn’t that good timing, don’t you think? Maybe she sensed good-looking guys were here and dragged a few friends along,” one of the 97-liners said, his eyes lazily trailing over your figure. “She’s got that type of body that makes you stop and stare—dangerous curves.”

“Maybe,” Jungkook replied, his tone cool but clipped as he sipped his beer. He didn’t even look their way, trying to keep his reaction locked down. “Then again, didn’t we only come here because someone said it was safer than most places?”

“You’re telling me you didn’t notice those legs when she walked in?” another chimed in, leaning forward with a wolfish grin. His eyes lingered shamelessly on your body, tracing every curve as if undressing you with his gaze. “She’s putting on a show with those hips, man. I swear, the way that dress clings to her? It’s like she wants us to imagine what’s underneath. Bet it’s a fucking masterpiece.”

He leaned back, biting his lip as his gaze dipped lower, voice thick with hunger. “Everything about her screams trouble—the good kind. Those thighs, that ass… fuck, I’d let her ruin me and thank her for it.”

Jungkook’s grip on his glass tightened, his knuckles whitening as he kept his face carefully neutral. “You could try,” he said smoothly, setting his drink down with a subtle but audible thud, “but do you even know how many confessions she’s probably gotten? Are we even talking about the same girl here?”

“Well then,” the first guy interjected with a sly smile, “how about we make it a challenge? Bet and put respect on the man’s name who can get her in bed first. Before the end of the next award show. I’ll put 3 mil on it.” His smirk widened as he added, “She looks like the type to put up a fight, but I wouldn’t mind breaking her in.”

The crude remark made Jungkook’s jaw clench. He leaned back in his chair, masking his rising anger. “20 mil,” he said flatly, his voice a low challenge that silenced the table. His eyes flicked to the speaker, daring him to take it further.

“Oh, 20 mil?” one of them scoffed, leaning back with an amused look. “You sure you’re not overestimating yourself here, man? She doesn’t seem like the type to just give it up so easily.”

He glanced over at you again, eyes lingering on the way your dress barely clung to your body, a sly smirk tugging at his lips. “But I get it… she’s got that innocent look, like she’s just waiting to be taken. You know, the kind of girl who might act all shy at first, but when she’s alone with you? She’s a fucking firestorm.”

He leaned in closer, voice dropping lower. “She’s probably the type who’ll beg for it—wanting you to take control, needing it like air. She wouldn’t last long, though. I bet once you’ve got her where you want her, she’ll ride you till she can’t move, totally at your mercy, just how you like it.”

He chuckled, watching Jungkook carefully. “But hey, I could be wrong… maybe you can’t pull that off. In which case, I’ll be happy to take my winnings and her home myself.”

Jungkook’s lips twitched into a faint, humorless smirk, but inside, his blood was boiling. The idea of them imagining your body, let alone thinking they had a chance with you, made his possessiveness surge. They didn’t know the things he did—how your body reacted to his touch, the sounds you made when he pushed you past your limits, the way you looked at him when you fell apart.

But he didn’t speak, just took another long sip of his drink, letting their words wash over him as he planned his exit. Their laughter rang in his ears, but his thoughts were consumed by one simple truth: They can talk all they want, but she’s already mine.

M.list. This was a requested plot

[boowritess]

very mild 18+ simon riley x reader

lmaoo i can't breathe Simon Riley is just a man.

atleast to you.

when he's home, all he is to you is dry humor, a couple beers every night, sat in front of the tv on his spot on the couch, the game is playing - some soccor or rugby match. he doesn't wear his mask, his clothes are a simple t-shirt and some pair of shorts he just threw on.

he uses your shampoo and conditioner, as much as it pisses you off because it's expensive and for some reason he uses half the fucking bottle everytime he's home, but when he does the groceries he still comes home with '2 in 1 shampoo and conditioner' he would’ve got the '3 in 1' but the last time he did that he got no head for 3 weeks.

he'll go to the pub, take you out, pushes the trolley, holds your bag, let's you dress how you want it, belly gets a little soft because he eats food like he's never ate before, buy you anything you want even after the 'do you really need it though?' talk.

he's bit lazy on workouts only goes on the occasional run, but will fuck you whenever you want; always vanilla and only gets rough when you ask.

he will say he'll fix whatever appliance needs tending too but won't do it right away, starts the occasional handyman job at odd times.

it's just - he's so mundane and normal that you'd never know just how dangerous he is ???? like he so carefully hides that side from you. seriously. when he's home, he throws his gear in the bottom of his closet in a box, locking Ghost away and just existing as Simon.

even when the rest of the task force come around on the occasion. they're so normal and are just... men. yelling at the tv during a sport match. teasing each other. stealing snacks and helping with cleaning. they never speak about work and when you ask them, it's always a smile and shrug, "just another day really." "little boring and slow." "oh not too bad." their answers are so half-assed, that you don't even ask anymore; which is what they want.

but you really aren't missing anything. not when you don't even know what you're missing out on.

it's crazy, because he even keeps Ghost hidden when you're being harassed by men. whether that be when you're shopping or just going for a walk.

he'll loop an arm around your waist or over your shoulder, look at the guy with a grin - that's more of a sneer, "can i help you, mate?" he'll drawl. his stature and stare is enough to make the man who had been harassing you back off.

"what a freak..." you mutter with a roll of your eyes, letting Simon guide you away as he presses a kiss to your temple, a deep chuckle leaving him.

around midnight you wake up to Simon in the laundry room washing his hands. he doesn't blink or hesitate when you wonder in and wrap your arms around his waist. "what're you doing?" you mumble, sleepy eyss dropping to the sink.

Simon's hands are red, and you would be alarmed, should be alarmed. but how could you when Simon hums softly, a sound that rumbles deep from his throat, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head. he's so warm and casual that you don't even do a touble take seeing the blood.

"caught a rat. right pest they are. the trap i set snapped it clean in half." Simon's mutters, he raises a bloodied hand to you, sniggering when you crinkle your nose up in disgust and step away from him.

"ew, i'm going back to bed." you huff, yawning and leaving him to what he was doing.

Simon laughs softly as you head off. "just be a sec, love." he says as you go. all he receives is a yawn and a tired 'mhm'.

he cleans his hands and then his phone chimes. he pulls it out and it's a private message.

'getting rid of your pest now, LT.'

image attached

Simon opens the picture and sure enough there's the man from earlier in the boot of a car. all bloodied like Ghost left him.

Simon heads back upstairs to your shared room, you quietly snoozing away. you don't steer or wake as the closet door opens and Simon's putting his mask back in with his gear. No. Ghost is too quiet to let you wake from such a warm and sweet sleep.

he turns from the closet after putting everything away and changing clothes. he crawls into his side of the bed and wraps his arms around you. letting your body nestle back into his side. limbs tangling together.

just you and your simon.

a/n: inspired by a tik tok video on how he is just a man lmaooo

[checkeredflagggs]

Unexpected Roommate

pairing: lando norris x pet owner!reader

summary: when moving in with his girlfriend, lando gets confronted with the new side of her pet

a/n: inspired by the guy walking his pet down the street I saw yesterday…

yourusername

liked by landonorris, yourbff, oscarpiastri, and 231,445 others

tagged: landonorris

yourusername: and it’s moving day! It’s a big step for us but I can’t wait to start living with you landonorris!

view all comments

user1: oh god the fomo I have

↳user2: saaaaammmmmmeeee

oscarpiastri: the question is was lando being helpful today or just disruptive?

↳landonorris: oi!!!

↳yourusername: Oscar!

↳oscarpiastri: it’s a valid question! I work with him — I know his habits

↳maxverstappen1: same

↳alex_albon: same

↳georgerussell63: same

↳danielricciardo: same

↳carlossainz55: same

↳landonorris: you frickin muppets!

↳yourusername:…

↳yourusername: he was helpful moving me out but quite distracted when we got to our new place

↳landonorris: oi!!!

↳yourusername: sorry baby but it’s true

user3: god the heart fingers…when will it be my turn…

user4: we need a tour!

↳user5: yaaassss! I need all the details for my fantasies where I’m living her life…

↳user4: ok let’s not get too crazy here

alex_albon: let us know when you’re all moved in!

↳landonorris: why?

↳maxverstappen1: so we don’t get roped into helping of course!

↳landonorris: I’m gonna block all of you

carlossainz55: did he let you get anything done once you got there?

↳landonorris: yes!! And I helped!

↳yourusername: the bedroom and his game room are done…

↳oscarpiastri: yeah that sounds about right

↳landonorris: stop slandering me!

↳user6: little lando norris learned a new word!

↳yourusername:🤣🤣🤣

↳landonorris: babe! 😢😢

yourusername

liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell, oscarpiastri, and 397,455 others

tagged: landonorris

yourusername: didn’t know I would gain a limpet when I moved…or that my dinners would now come with live entertainment 🤣🤣

view all comments

user7: I’ll take that issue off your hands

↳user8: or me!

↳yourusername: sorry he’s mine only!

↳landonorris: I’m yours?

↳yourusername: I’d fight all your fangirls for you

↳landonorris: babe 😍😍

landonorris: babe…why you gotta do me dirty like that??

↳landonorris: you said you wouldn’t post these photos!!!

↳yourusername: I lied! Gotta show everyone your true character

↳landonorris: babe!

↳yourusername: sorry not sorry 😘 forgive me?

↳landonorris:😢😢😢

↳yourusername: 🥰🥰🥰

↳landonorris: ok but only cause you’re really hot

maxverstappen1: need a crowbar there?

↳alex_albon: or maybe another set of hands to push him away?

↳yourusername: is both an option? 🤣

↳charles_leclerc: might need some chains and a tow truck…

↳maxfewtrell: can you even breathe?

↳landonorris: I’m literally going to report all of you for bullying me

↳charles_leclerc: you’d need to detach yourself from her first

↳alex_albon: are we supposed to be scared?

↳maxverstappen1: so?

↳maxfewtrell: in real life too?

↳yourusername: even me? 🥹🥹🥹

↳landonorris: never you baby

yourbff: he is NOT invited to girls night

↳yourusername: of course not!

↳landonorris: you said I could come!

↳yourusername: the council said no!

↳landonorris: is the council yourbff?

↳yourbff: And coco!

↳landonorris: coco would never! She loves me!

↳yourbff: still a no!

Private Messages

lnupdates

liked by user1, user2, and 790,469 others

tagged: landonorris, maxfewtrell

lnupdates: I don’t even have words for how chaotic Lando’s last stream was… can anyone identify the voice in the background that was cursing them out?

view all comments

user9: it wasn’t yourusername was it?

↳user10: no she had photos posted of her and yourbff at a concert

↳user9: then whoooo???

↳user10: I think I heard them say coco??

user11: like I’m concerned about who that was but…that was freaking hilarious

↳user12: I completely agree. Whoever they were, they were roasting max and lando

↳user13: the absolute shock on lando’s face when the first motherfucker rang out…

user14: taking notes 📝📝📝📝

↳user15: what for???

↳user14: Lindsey is going down next time

↳user15: oh my god let it go

↳user14: never

Private Messages

yourusername

liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell, charles_leclerc, and 1,590,278 others

tagged: lnupdates, cocotheparrot

yourusername: the criminal from last night’s streaming…snafu. Meet Coco! She’s a mature African Grey Parrot I adopted from a friend who could no longer care for her.

She has…strong opinions and an even stronger way to express those opinions 🧡

view all comments

user16: oh my god I’m in love

landonorris: you didn’t tell me she talked!!!

↳yourusername: babe it’s well known that african greys are considered the smartest parrots

↳landonorris: WELL KNOWN TO WHOOOO?!?

↳alex_albon: everyone

↳yourusername: everyone

↳lilymhe: everyone

↳charles_leclerc: everyone

↳maxfewtrell: everyone

↳maxverstappen1: everyone

↳carlossainz55: everyone

↳mclaren: everyone

lnupdates: oh my god!! I would never even guessed a parrot!!

user17: she’s absolutely beautiful!

↳user18: god I’d love to get a parrot

↳yourusername: take care! Parrots are one of the hardest breeds to take care of and one of the longest living ones too — anywhere from 40-60 years

↳user18: …ok maybe not a parrot

↳landonorris: 40 TO 60 YEARS???

↳charles_leclerc: maybe you’ll learn a new language listening to her!

↳landonorris: 4 to 6 DECADES OF BEING SWORE AT?

↳alex_albon: awesome!

↳yourusername: she doesn’t swear all the time…

↳landonorris: 😨😨😨

a/n2: so I saw someone walking their pet parrot down the street and it was so cool! I didn’t get swore at (which would have made my day tbh) but this popped into my mind and I had to write it out. I don’t know why but lando makes the most sense to have a pet parrot that swears

[daechwitatamic]

cherrybomb || csc

(banner by @sailorrhansol)

cherrybomb seungcheol x afab reader || angst smut fluff || exes2lovers, pacific rim universe NSFW - minors DNI

Summary: Piloting a jaeger requires a rare ability called drifting - a neural connection with your co-pilot. You and Seungcheol are masters of the drift... until you have something in your head that you don't want him to see.

wc: 19.5k

warnings: language, heavy angst with happy ending, fight scenes, fight scenes written by an author with zero fighting or martial arts knowledge lmfao thus they are vague as possible, feelings heavy plot light and smut light, kissing and pretty generic (and brief) p in v smut

Author's note: thank you for @sailorrhansol for 1) accidentally sparking this idea, 2) agreeing to collab with me, 3) reading this along the way and hyping me up, and 4) beta-ing my mistakes, a million smooches for you ily

This fic takes place in the Pacific Rim universe but I honestly don't think you need to know the lore, everything you need to know should be explained. If you think something is unclear without prior pacific rim knowledge, shoot me a message privately and I'll make some edits and credit you for the insight!

Also in this universe: storm breaker by @/sailorhansol

Teaser:

“Marshall, with all due respect, I don’t know why you’re calling me,” you admit. “You were there. You saw what happened. Seungcheol and I can’t drift anymore.”

“You couldn’t then,” he points out. “That was three years ago. Things that were once too painful to carry into the drift… they’ve had time to mellow.”

He’s wrong, and you want to tell him so. Nothing has mellowed. You love Seungcheol just as much today as you did then.

“Have you talked to him about this?” You’re afraid of the answer. 

The Marshall’s voice hardens, and you can just picture his eyes narrowing. “Mr. Choi will follow orders,” he says evenly, “and so will you. Asking is really just a courtesy.”

“You can’t order us into being able to drift again,” you snap, pulse suddenly pounding in your arms, your hands, your face, your chest. 

“No,” the Marshall says, and any previous friendliness is gone from his voice now, “but I can - and will - order you to try.”

Playlist: you're the smoke in my gun, blowin' like cherry bombs...

The first time you ever saw Choi Seungcheol, he was flipping a man four years his senior over his shoulder and slamming him into the ground. Satisfied, he staggered backwards, chest heaving from exertion, eyes narrowed in preparation for the next move.

That’s what Seungcheol did - he leveled whatever was in front of him, and he started watching for what was coming next before the body could even hit the ground.

That’s what made him a great jaeger pilot. Not the brute strength - strong men are dime a dozen, always have been - but the watching.

You’d marked him as your first choice.

You were both nineteen. You’d grown up in the Shatterdome, the only child to a couple who piloted a neon green jaeger named Charron’s Revenge. You knew everything about how jaegers and their teams worked by the time you were nine. You started training to fight years before that. There was never a question that you would follow in your parents’ giant, mechanical footsteps one day. You just needed the right partner.

You needed Seungcheol.

The jaeger program didn’t turn away recruits - everyone could do something - but there was an organized process to match up compatible pilots. Applying recruits would fight before an audience of previously-accepted but currently-unmatched potential pilots. The pilots would rank the fighters, choosing their top five based on perceived potential for compatibility.

Then, the roles would switch. The applicants became the audience. The audience became the show.

When it was your turn to fight, you silently pleaded with the universe that Seungcheol would mark you high as well. This was the only guarantee that you’d get a chance to spar with him, to test it out before the Marshall, who would make the final call.

Let him see, you begged. Let him see how perfectly we’d work together.

And, by some miracle, he did. In fact, he rated you first, as well.

Your sparring match went exactly how you expected - he barreled at you, and you dodged every move. He could easily take you out with a single blow, but he couldn’t get his hands on you, not when you used his own inertia against him at every turn. What you didn’t expect was your own inability to land a shot. For the whole fight, you were unable to move out of the defensive - keeping out of his reach took all of your effort.

It was a draw - the first sign of strong compatibility.

You didn’t talk after the match - your father whisked you away to recover before your second-rated match, and you didn’t see Seungcheol for the rest of the day.

The second-rated match was a dud. But you already knew, even then, that it didn’t matter.

You’d met your co-pilot. You’d found your partner.

—

He found you in the mess hall that night, dropping into an empty spot on the other side of the table, his tray in his hands. His black hair was loose and wavy, and his right arm sported a sizeable bruise that he definitely didn’t get from you.

“I know who you are,” he said by way of greeting. You raised a brow at him, waiting. “Your parents piloted Charron’s Revenge.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “That better not be why you picked me.”

He gave his head an annoyed little flick. “Of course not. I picked you because you’re fluid - and I’m not.”

Appeased, you felt your hackles settle back down. “That’s true,” you allowed. “You’re not fluid. But you’re purposeful, and-”

You were interrupted when Yoon Jeonghan dropped into the seat to your left, chuckling under his breath as he fixed his long, dark hair into a spiky ponytail at the back of his head.

“Cherry, did you hear?” he asked you, ignoring the new-comer. “The crew for Fatal Rapids got called back in for misconduct.”

“Choi Seungcheol, Yoon Jeonghan,” you said, introducing the two young men. “Hannie does more than gossip, I promise. He’s one of the pilots for Devil’s Advocates. Their drop stats are insane.”

“In practice only,” Jeonghan demurred. “For now.”

“Cherry?” Seungcheol parroted, raising a dark brow. “That’s not what I wrote on my paper earlier.”

“Just a nickname,” you explained. When you were very small, you’d struggled with the name of your parents’ jaeger, calling it Cherry’s Revenge instead of Charron’s, and the crew - who doted on you like their own - started the habit of calling you Cherry. Somehow, it had spread, and stuck. “Only my parents use my real name. But you can call me whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“No,” he said, frowning as if deeply considering his options. “I like it.”

You folded your arms on the table, leaning in to peer at Seungcheol. “So, what’s your story? You’ve heard of me. I haven’t heard of you.”

He shrugged, glanced around, then decided he could talk freely. There’s something about being in a room that’s positively teeming with people and conversation - it gives you privacy without feeling too intimate. You’re not alone.

“Not much of a story, not like you,” he admitted. “I grew up thinking I’d take over my dad’s business. We lost my dad… then, we lost the business. I have no marketable skillset, and university was out of the question. But…” He trailed off, then met your gaze firmly. Something in his look demanded you forgo any pity or sympathy, demanded you take him seriously. “I’m strong. So I came here. I came to fight.”

You sidestepped the bruises he’d bared. “Not like me,” you repeated with a bit of a scoff. “I hate to disappoint you, but my parents are the pilots - the story is theirs. I don’t have one, not yet.”

Something playful glinted in his eyes, the first true sign of personality you’d seen. “So all the rumors about the Princess of the Shatterdome aren’t true?”

Your jaw dropped. You’d heard the nickname before - it was never meant nicely. You tried to ignore it as best you could - people could think what they wanted. When you had a crew, when you had a jaeger, you’d be able to prove them wrong. “What rumors?”

“You’re spoiled,” Jeonghan supplied, having decided he was part of the conversation after all. “Entitled.”

You spluttered as Jeonghan stood, giving you a cheerful pat on the shoulder. “And bitchy! That’s just what I’ve heard. Of course I know better. Anyway, I’ve got to go. Love ya!”

You stared incredulously after him as he disappeared, your face burning with embarrassment and your heart hammering with adrenaline. Fight, your systems told you.

If only you could.

Seungcheol bit back a smile, reaching out to pat your arm placatingly.

“I don’t…” you started to say, but your voice caught in your throat. You cleared it, tried again. “I don’t think I really deserve all that.”

He nodded, lips pushed into a semblance of a thoughtful pout. “What I’d heard,” he said calmly, “is that you’re a hell of a fighter, scary smart, and that you take no shit. Unless it’s from your friends, apparently.”

This made a bitter little laugh bubble from you. You still simmered with humiliation, feared that maybe he’d decide he didn’t want to co-pilot with you after all.

“I think it’s up to you which story gets told,” he said finally.

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. “That’s what I always said. So… let’s get started.”

—

You and Seungcheol lucked out - the team that had been recalled for misconduct were terminated from their posts in the weeks following the sparring trials, and their jaeger Fatal Rapids had been disassembled, the parts up for grabs.

You and Seungcheol repurposed Rapids’s main frame, your crew working to individualize the bot to your needs as best they could. You splurged on quad-processors for her legs to allow your jaeger to keep up with how you move - quick and lithe. Seungcheol lobbied for (and won) some extra power in the top half, and you compromised and chose a mix of red and blue sections for her paintjob.

Duellona Fury, you named her. Duellona for you, the destroyer. Fury for Seungcheol, because that was where his fight came from.

You got to know Seungcheol’s fury very well. Especially when you started trying to drift.

None of it happened fast - not the building of your machine, nor your neural handshake. In fact, you didn’t pilot Duellona Fury together for a whole calendar year.

You started with physical compatibility - you sparred almost all day, every day. You fought - with each other and against each other - until all you could do was lay on the ground and pant, blinking to make the ceiling stay in focus.

Seungcheol may not have grown up training in the Shatterdome the way you did, but he kept up without complaint. You learned his way - force and strength - and he learned the way you favored - to weave and dodge.

The fighting was the easy part.

You had never drifted with someone you had true drift compatibility with. Seungcheol had never drifted at all. The Marshall wouldn’t even consider hooking the two of you up to the machine until you went through the proper training.

On the day you and Seungcheol were officially declared as co-pilots-in-training, you both stood below the half-built shell of your towering jaeger, sparks flying and drills screaming as the crew worked on her.

Your Marshall looked seriously at his new team-in-training. “Starting tomorrow, you’ll meditate together. Talk to each other. Get deep about it. If you’ve talked about it out here-” he swept an arm across the deck, “-it won’t take hold so strongly in there.” He’d jabbed a finger in the upward direction of Duellona Fury.

Seungcheol didn’t look at you, nor the Marshall. Instead, he kept his eyes on Duellona's unfinished frame, stories above you. “Yes, Sir,” he said steadily.

Your parents weren’t technically retired yet, the year you and Seungcheol started training together. Charron’s Revenge still sat in the well below the Shatterdome. They still lived on the base, still took part in daily training. They hadn’t been called into a fight in years, though; the assignments went to the younger crews.

You took dinner in their quarters instead of the mess hall, that night.

“Congratulations,” your father said warmly from across the table. “You worked hard to get here.”

“Thank you,” you said, feeling shy beneath the praise. “I hope the drift will work for me and Choi Seungcheol.”

“What do you think of him?” your mother had asked, her sharp eyes honing in on you, watching your reactions.

“I think he’s a great fighter,” you said. “The rest… I guess I’ll have to learn.”

“Do you trust him? Can you trust him out there, when the sea and the wind are trying to knock you down, and hell itself rises up from the depths?”

You swallowed. She’s right for her intensity - they will be putting their daughter’s life in her co-pilot’s hands, every time there’s a fight. You knew firsthand how terrifying it was to stand in the tech bay and wait, not knowing if your loved ones will make it back.

You thought about how you and Seungcheol fight together in the sparring rooms. You thought about how you weaved and your opponent followed your movement, only to be knocked sideways. You thought of how Seungcheol followed your motion backwards, ducked in tandem with you to avoid a hit, and how you followed his momentum forward and up to attack. Your bodies followed each other like they were magnetized. And Seungcheol was always watching for the next hit.

“Yes,” you said, so quietly that you cleared your throat and said it again. “Yes, I trust him.”

“Then we wish you luck,” your father said, and raised his glass. “To Duellona Fury.”

“To Duellona Fury,” you echoed.

On your way out of the quarters, later, you slowed as you passed the wall where they hung their accolades and awards, the newspaper clippings, photos, and medals. Before your eyes they aged - the photographs changing through the years, no longer showing a bright, fiery couple, instead displaying proof of passing time: a baby bump, then a toddler, then a child beaming alongside them as if she’d done what they had done; greying hairs, softening bodies, deepening of wrinkles. Then the pictures stopped.

You never asked them if they missed it.

—

You and Seungcheol started meditating together the next morning; it seemed logical to begin at the easiest step. In an empty sparring room, you sat facing each other, knees touching.

“Have you done this before?” you asked, as you both settled in, shifting weight and adjusting ankles.

“Not with someone else,” he admitted, lips protruding in a bit of a pout. “Only alone.”

You nodded. You’d grown up learning all of this - the right way to fight as a team member, how to be in tune for a neural connection. It led to you teaching Seungcheol often - yet when you fought together, any leadership fell away.

“Normally,” you explained, “you focus on your breath, keeping your mind clear. But for our practice, you want to focus on our breath. We breathe together. And when your mind wanders, your awareness should be coming to peace with my presence there. Like, making a path for the neural connection - for later. So there’s no resistance.”

“Have you done this before?” Seungcheol asked.

You wobbled your head around - not yes, but not no. “I’ve practiced it - I’ve done the meditation with partners. But I’ve never moved forward to an actual drift with anyone.”

This seemed to appease him, and he settled his weight backwards, letting his hands rest near his knees.

You let your eyes float closed and inhaled, listening and feeling for Seungcheol’s inhale to end, letting your breath out when he did. It took no time to match your breaths, to let your mind go blissfully quiet. You focused on feeling open, readable - any thought that floated through your mind, you pretended he could hear, too. You tried to feel and release any defensiveness, any urge to close off.

When the timer went off, it surprised you. You opened your eyes, and the feeling that struck you was this -

It was surprising to see Seungcheol before you. It hadn’t felt like he was beside you. It had felt like he was you.

You meditated, you fought, and finally, you talked.

Laying on the sparring room floor, your head somewhere near Seungcheol’s shins, he asked you, “Where do you wish you were right now? If you weren’t here.”

You laughed at yourself before answering, knowing how silly you would sound. “In a tree.”

A disbelieving smile played on his lips, almost as if he wasn’t sure you weren’t making fun of him somehow. “A tree?”

“No, really,” you insisted, still smiling a little. “There’s not a lot of nature here, in case you didn’t notice. I grew up in the Dome - never got to leave, much.”

Seungcheol didn’t respond to this, just nodded like he understood, his small smile going a bit tight around the edges.

You frowned, reading him exactly. “You think I’m sheltered,” you observed. It wasn’t a question. He couldn’t say no.

He looked at you, then. “You were sheltered,” he said, voice low. “But when I say it, I don’t mean naive. I just think… there’s a lot of world out there. A lot of things to see. You won’t see any of it if you spend your entire life under the Dome.”

You nod, accepting this. “I won’t see any of it if it gets destroyed, either. There’s a lot of world out there - that we’re trying to keep safe.”

Seungcheol watched you intently for a moment, lips downturned and gaze heavy. Then, he asked, “Have you ever seen a kaiju? I mean - in person?”

“Sort of,” you mumbled.

He’d rolled from his back to his front, closer to you, putting you shoulder to shoulder. “Kind of seems like a yes-or-no question.”

Your lips twisted. “Then, no. But I’ve stood in the bay and listened to Mission Control talk my mom and dad through a fight dozens of times, watched Charron’s Revenge on the screens and prayed I wouldn’t see her get sawed in half.”

You stopped, trailed a finger through the thin layer of dirt on the floor. “I know it’s not the same as looking one in the face myself,” you whispered. “But the fear… shouldn’t that fear count, shouldn’t it feel the same?”

Seungcheol swallowed, trailed his own finger through the dirt until his fingertip just barely touched yours. It felt like energy sizzled in the centimeter between your pointer and his.

“When Menaceclaw attacked,” he said, “he missed my home by one block. We watched him go by from the sidewalk. I wasn’t even as tall as his foot. But even with him towering over the buildings, taking them down without even trying, I don’t think what I felt was afraid. I think I just felt resigned. Like I knew, at seven, that even though we survived this one… nothing was going to be… the same, or okay. I don’t know.”

“You knew what you lost,” you said quietly. “Part of you did.”

He looked up at you, nudged his finger into yours. “You never knew anything different. It wasn’t a loss. The fear was just always part of the deal.”

You rolled sideways, laying your head on your bicep for a pillow, regarding the dark-eyed, dark-haired young man across from you. His face scrunched in a laugh, brows furrowing and lips pouting.

“What?” he asked through the quiet laugh. “Why are you looking at me?”

“What else?” you mused. “What else am I going to find when we go tiptoeing through your memories?”

He smiled faintly and then mirrored you, laying his head on his arm, his eyes swimming as he thought.

“A lot of my family, probably,” he said. “A lot of fighting. Menaceclaw. Probably some very mid sex.”

You laughed without meaning to. “My condolences?”

He grinned at you, pleased. “Eh, what can you do? I try to treat everything like a learning experience.”

You laughed again, and his smile grew, gums showing. “What about you?” he asked off-handedly.

“Mid sex?” you asked, eyebrows raising. “I hate to inform you, Choi Seungcheol, but I don’t do anything mid.”

“No,” he protested, laughing, reaching out to gently shake your shoulder. “I meant - what will we see when it’s your turn?”

“The Dome,” you said, half-joking - but it was true. “Training. My parents. Their fights, their accomplishments.”

And, as a true drift partner should, he understood what you weren’t saying.

“We’ll have our turn,” he promised, pushing himself to sit up, then stand, reaching down to help you up. “We’re gonna be fucking unstoppable. Let’s go again.”

Fire sparking behind your ribs, you nodded seriously, then reached up to take his hand.

—

Weeks of sparring melded into months of meditation and talking. The next phase of training co-pilots was learning to drift in one of the simulators - but not in a jaeger. Not yet.

You and Seungcheol finished training in one of the sparring rooms shortly before dinner would be served in the mess hall.

“Meet you there?” you asked, still half-breathless, your body starting to ache as the adrenaline from a fight melted away.

“Sure,” he agreed, and you disappeared into the changing rooms, scrubbing the sweat and dirt away as quickly as you could. You changed into something clean and made your way to the mess hall.

You scanned for familiar faces, frowning when your normal table seemed to be occupied by a team of new recruits that you didn’t know.

Seungcheol appeared at your elbow, frowning dramatically. “Our table,” he whined.

“There’s Chan and Wylie,” you said, nodding to another corner where your friends sat practically on top of each other. Chan and Wylie had never understood personal space, not when it came to one another. They barely noticed when you and Seungcheol plopped onto the benches next to them, but Seungkwan did.

“You’re bleeding, Cherry,” he said, before inhaling an entire mouthful of rice.

You started to scan your arms - you didn’t feel pain anywhere - but Seungcheol found it first, gingerly swiping his thumb along your cheekbone.

“Sorry, Cherry,” he murmured. “I should’ve pulled that punch.”

“No you shouldn’t have,” you grumbled, swatting at his hand and wiping roughly at the spot, your hand coming away with a small smear of red - nothing to be alarmed about. It would stop on its own. “You pull shots in practice, you’ll hesitate in the field.”

“She’s right,” Chan said from his physical tangle with Wylie. “What you practice will show up in your muscle memory. You’ve got to mean it, every time.”

Wylie reached across his arms and took a bite from his plate, then asked, “Did you guys see the new jaeger?”

“I did,” Seungkwan said eagerly. “Chaser Supernova, or something like that? She’s smaller, but she’s supposed to be fast.”

“Is that her team at our normal table?” you asked dryly, shooting the rookies a dark look over your shoulder. Seungcheol jostled you playfully, sending you a smile that brought you back.

The bench dipped to your left, and you turned to see Soonyoung - one of Seungkwan’s two co-pilots - settle in.

“Talking about Supernova?” he asked, hands busy opening his drink. “They seem okay - they’re a trio, like us.”

“Where is Seokmin?” Seungkwan asked, scanning the room. “I haven’t seen him in like two hours.”

“Talking to Jihoon, I think,” Soonyoung answered absently, focused on his meal. “He lost another co-pilot today.”

“Not again,” you and Seungcheol both blurted, matching levels of exasperation.

“That was freaky,” Wylie said, just as Chan told you, “You two are acting like us, now.”

“We do not need another Chan-and-Wylie,” Seungkwan said seriously, shaking his head.

Seungcheol sent you a sideways, sheepish grin.

“We won’t be,” he promised the group, but his eyes were still on you.

—

The simulators were built to be exact replicas of the conn-pod, so that trainees could get used to the feeling of being strapped in, of moving with the gear. But the real purpose was to practice the neural handshake without risking damage - to the jaeger, to the tech bay, to each other.

“Don’t be nervous,” you told Seungcheol as the tech team worked around you both like a choreographed dance.

“I’m never nervous,” he said, suddenly cocky.

If you could reach his hand from where you were strapped in, you would have. If you understood anything about Seungcheol - if any part of him mirrored you - it was the way he showcased bravado, the way he used it as his most-familiar mask.

“It’s only practice,” you reminded him. “And it’s only me.”

He licked his lips quickly, eyes darting to the side and then back to you. Then, he gave you a small nod.

“Normally,” your chief tech - a beautiful woman with jet-black hair named Nainsi - told you, “right now, you would be ready for the drop. In the simulator, we skip that step because we aren’t dropping onto a jaeger. Instead, we’ll engage the pilot to pilot connection protocol sequence.”

You and Seungcheol nod in tandem.

“You’re all good?” Nainsi checks. “Then I’m going back into the tech bay - you’ll hear me through the intercom.”

Alone in the simulator, you met Seungcheol’s gaze and couldn’t help the excited grin that spread across your face. Finally, finally you were here. Once you could do this successfully, the next step was to fight in your own jaeger - to drop into Duellona Fury and walk into the sea.

He didn’t return your smile, instead giving you a tight nod, expression serious.

Over the intercom, you said clearly, “Ready and aligned.”

Nainsi answered, “Prepare for neural handshake.”

You took a deep breath and steeled yourself as the artificial voice of the simulator’s tech system spoke around you, 3… 2… 1… neural handshake initiating…

At first, you thought something went wrong. Everything went red behind your eyelids, and you blinked, instinctively trying to clear it away.

The red faded, and you found yourself in Seungcheol’s childhood home. You didn’t know how you knew that - you just knew. It was as familiar to you, inside the drift, as your own. You knew that to your left was a small kitchen with two broken floor tiles; you knew - without having ever seen it - that to your right was a narrow hallway that led to a bathroom and two small bedrooms.

Two small boys played on the carpet; rather, the smaller one played with some toy cars while the other watched the television with rapture. Behind them, at the kitchen table, a woman typed busily on an outdated laptop, bags heavy under her eyes.

Somewhere around you, a voice floated by, telling you, neural handshake strong and holding.

You could see Seungcheol in your periphery - the adult Seungcheol, the Seungcheol of now - as he looked at his mother, his brother, himself.

“It’s not real,” you reminded him gently. “It’s just a memory.”

“I know,” he said back, voice hushed, as if he might scare them away. “It’s just… good to see them.”

The house evaporated as gently as morning dew under a mid-morning sun; you stood in a schoolyard. Seungcheol, the small one, had a bloody lip and a mean swing.

You felt a rush of affection for him - him, the child, face contorting with misplaced anger, using strength as a bandage. You wanted to stand in front of him, between him and the anger, him and the other kids, and let him take a breath. You wanted to tell him to step with his punch to get more power. You wanted to put a hand on his shoulder and tell him, you’re going to be fine.

And he knew all of it, because he was in your mind.

Seungcheol - your Seungcheol - walked away from the swarm of children egging on the fight and opened a door. You followed.

Inside was not the school, but a hospital room. Your body jolted forward, distracting and alarming. You heard, faintly, a series of beeps, that robotic voice needling in your ears, saying, calibration failure… recalibrating in 3… 2… 1…

“It’s only a memory,” you said again, but the warning beeps were coming stronger, louder, more clearly. The hospital room looked opaque, and Seungcheol walked backwards towards you, away from it, herding you both out of the room. The room - a bed, a pulled curtain, a lot of white - flickered, like a glitch, and then vanished, leaving you standing in the simulator.

Neural handshake disengaged…

“Seungcheol!” you yelled, pulling your helmet off and wheeling on him as best you could with most of your body still strapped in. “What the hell was that? You pushed me out!”

He was breathing hard, eyes a little wild. “Not that,” he said, a little ragged. “I’ll let you in but - not that.”

“You don’t get to choose!” you snapped. Part of you knew this was just growing pains, he’d never drifted before, he was learning. But the rest of you smarted and stung - both from his rejection and from your failure to train, to succeed, to check off this final step before you could get inside your jaeger. “It’s kind of an all-or-nothing thing!”

He let out a billow of air, reaching a hand up to rub at his face. “Sorry. I’ll… let’s try again.”

You didn’t answer, fuming silently instead.

“I’m sorry, Cherry,” he said. “The stuff with my dad…”

“You can’t cherry-pick what we see and what we don’t,” you fired back. His eyes shot to yours and his mouth quirked and you read the joke all over his face. “Don’t you laugh, Seungcheol, it’s not funny!”

But you were laughing through the scolding.

“Stop,” you whined.

Your anger defused, he looked at you again, taking a bracing breath. “It’s not about you,” he tried to explain. “I’m not keeping you out. I’m keeping me out.”

“Don’t chase the rabbit,” you told him, shaking your head. “See what it wants you to see and move on. Find the next door. If you stand there and let your hurt - or your, I don’t know… grief - rise up… that’s when we’re going to have trouble.”

“Find the next door,” he repeated, eyes on the floor. “Got it.”

“You can’t push it away,” you reminded him, “but you don’t have to stay in it, either.”

He nodded, eyes already lighting up, ready to go again.

The second time, you saw him steel himself before opening that same door, watching carefully as he shuffled inside, only looking sideways at the hospital room that materialized around you.

“Seungcheol.”

He turned to look at you, wide-eyed, but you hadn’t called him. The voice, weak and hoarse, had come from the other side of the fluttering curtain.

The glitching started almost immediately - the image around you flickering like a bad wall projection. Something rocked beneath your feet, an earthquake only inside your minds.

You opened your mouth, started to tell him, you don’t have to stay, to remind him that he could move forward. Instead, you heard yourself say, “I’m here.”

The tremors under your feet quivered to a stop. You watched with trepidation and Seungcheol closed his eyes and took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. Then, he held his hand out, waiting.

You slipped your hand into his, and then he turned and continued walking, ignoring his father’s memory calling out to him. The flickering stopped, the picture you were part of brightening again as you found the next door, stepped through, left his pain behind.

—

It got easier quickly. Seungcheol’s ability to press on, to maintain focus, strengthened.

The strolls through your mind went easier - you’d had years to practice maintaining focus, waiting until after to let the emotions hit you.

Seungcheol learned to be ready for you, after. He’d sit with you, silent, and breathe in tandem as you worked to let go, to release the images of Charron’s Revenge on the tech bay screen, the sounds of your parents’ frantic communication as they fought together, the fear crawling its way up your legs every time until someone in the bay said, “Charron’s Revenge, cleared to return.” The loneliness of being the only kid in the Dome, having no outlet except fighting. Everything that threatened your mind while you piloted, everything that you had to save for later - save for him.

You were both freshly turned twenty when you got green-lit to drive.

“Seungcheol!” you called across the mess hall, practically racing to your table. He turned, eyebrows raised, as you crossed the large room.

“We’re approved to drop!” you told him excitedly. It churned in you - finally, finally you could fight, you could prove what you could do, you could help. “We’re on the drop schedule for tomorrow!”

His grin was unfettered, unfiltered, just for you. He reached up a fist and you bumped it enthusiastically. You were too excited to eat, too excited to sleep. You tossed and turned, imagining experiencing a drop for the first time, imagining striding through the mighty sea like it was nothing, imagining staring down hell itself and bringing it to its knees.

You were still awake when you heard the alarms down the hall. Yours didn’t go off, because you weren’t on duty, weren’t approved to fight.

Down the hall, there was a flurry of commotion - shouting, rushing, people pushing past you as they pulled on boots and jackets.

“Cat-3 in the west bay,” someone shouted.

“Deploying Devil’s Advocate!”

You reached the tech bay, trying to stay out of the way but not unseen. When the Marshall strode by, you stepped sideways.

“Let us drop,” you said quickly, knowing time was precious. “It’ll be like practice. We can be back-up. We’ll hang back.”

“Absolutely not,” the Marshall said, already moving to work past you. “You’re not approved yet. We don’t need a liability right now.”

“We’re scheduled for tomorrow!” you protested, and then you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“We’ll get our turn,” Seungcheol told you quietly. Of course he’d come out, of course he found you.

You deflated. “It could have been us. We are hours from approval.”

He gave your shoulder a tiny shake. “We’ll get our turn,” he repeated. “Don’t make trouble.”

You glowered, but you knew he was right. “Fine,” you grumbled as Joshua and Jeonghan slinked past you in matching jackets and matching shit-eating grins. You stayed out of the way as they prepared to drop.

You stayed through the fight, listened to the control room buzz and chatter, until you heard, “Devil’s Advocate, cleared to return.”

Only then did you try to go back to sleep. Seungcheol gave your shoulder one more squeeze.

“Tomorrow,” he promised.

“Tomorrow,” you repeated.

—

Some people feel God at church. The history of tradition and the sanctity of ritual speak to them, help them feel part of something, help them feel that unnameable swell of something spiritual.

Some people feel God in nature. The patterns of the universe, the way math exists without human touch, the harmonies and patterns that seem too intricate for coincidence help them believe in a planner’s touch. The beauty of the outdoors allows them to wonder, to feel like they belong as a piece of this clockwork.

But you - you felt God when you stood before your jaeger, marveling at the power, the beauty, how it feels like yours, how it feels like Seungcheol before you’re even inside it. Duellona Fury promises you power, promises you purpose.

That hand was on your shoulder again, and it slid down to the center of your back before removing itself.

Beside you, Seungcheol stared up at your glorious machine.

“She looks sick,” he said, the grin taking over his face.

“I can’t wait to fuck shit up,” you murmured, your reverent tone at odds with the flippancy of your words.

“Ready?” the Marshall asked you, coming up to your left. “We’ll get you calibrated and dropped, and then you’ll do a lap of the bay. We’re sending out Pretty Savage just in case you run into trouble.”

The defensiveness rose in you quick, like a snakebite.

“We don’t need a babysitter,” Seungcheol said, voice hard. You reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze - a reminder to watch it, just as his hand on your shoulder frequently did for you.

“It’s just safety protocol.” The Marshall was unphased by the outburst. “Have fun, you two. Enjoy your first joy-ride.”

You screamed when you dropped, the exhilaration rushing out of you as Duellona Fury fell story after story before slowing and attaching to your jaeger’s mainframe.

Goosebumps raised along your arms when the Shatterdome’s sea-doors slid open, shudders traveling your body as you and Seungcheol stepped together, Duellona Fury stepping with you, her gigantic, metal form following every movement.

For the first time in your whole, careful life, you felt powerful. Your jaeger cut through the ocean waves like they were nothing, making an easy perimeter of the bay. In your head, you could somehow both hear and feel Seungcheol’s delight, his low-simmering desire to fight, to do something a perfect mirror of your own.

“How is it?” Soonyoung’s voice crackled in your ears, reminding you that Pretty Savage wasn’t far behind you.

“Incredible,” Seungcheol answered him, at the same time that you said, “It’s everything.”

It didn’t matter that you came from a family of pilots. It didn’t matter that you were raised in the Dome, training since you were young. None of that mattered. You were born for this - born to fight for your planet, born for Duellona Fury, born for Choi Seungcheol.

—

The west bay became Duellona’s playground; you and Seungcheol were often assigned to patrol there.

It was only a few months in that you faced a kaiju for the first time.

“Come in, Duellona Fury,” Nainsi’s voice came through. “We have a reading just a few miles north of you. Cat-2. Approaching at -”

Duellona Fury was turning due north before the command was even given.

“Are you ready for this?” you shouted to Seungcheol as Duellona slid through the water, the adrenaline singing in your system already.

“You know I am,” he answered, something hard in it, and the thrill in your stomach sparked.

When the sea split in half, the kaiju rising from the depths with an unearthly roar, you sank into a defensive stance, feeling Seungcheol move beside you, doing the same.

“Let’s fucking go,” Seungcheol said darkly, and launched forward, your arms rearing back for momentum before the first swing. The punch landed solidly, your whole body shaking once as the kaiju faltered backwards a few steps.

It opened its mouth and you glimpsed three rows of teeth bigger than a cow before it was lunging at you; Duellona Fury lurched. You tried to duck sideways as Seungcheol tried to move towards your opponent.

The moment of indecision cost you - the kaiju got its teeth on Duellona’s shoulder, knocking you back several steps. Beside you, Seungcheol roared as sparks flew near the bite.

“Are we breached?” you yelled, trying to steady your balance again.

“Not yet!” he yelled back, and you swung again, a hit landing hard enough to knock the kaiju loose, spitting it back into the sea.

You tried to move into a defensive crouch again; again, the jaeger faltered.

“Cherry!” Seungcheol yelled, desperation laced in his voice. “Cherry, don’t fight me!”

“Move with me!” you answered, and he did, miraculously, Duellona dodging left before an incoming attack.

Don’t fight me.

You rocked forward with Seungcheol as soon as you were clear of the kaiju’s trajectory, just as you’d done in practice thousands of times. Back in sync, Duellona Fury landed a kick to the kaiju’s middle that sent it stumbling.

“We’ve got him,” you said, feeling a win.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Seungcheol warned you. No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the kaiju exploded from the dark ocean, limbs flailing as it flew towards you.

Duellona’s arms came up and locked it in battle, the impact shaking you so hard that your teeth chattered against each other. You groaned with exertion as you tried to match its strength.

“I don’t think we can hold it,” you managed through grit teeth.

“We’ve got this,” your partner promised, and with a mighty shove, you managed to flip the beast over your shoulder and beneath the waves.

“Drop the bombs and head for the east side,” you said quickly, already moving. Duellona Fury followed your command, turning and starting an easy run through the bay’s churning waters, away from where the kaiju was struggling to its feet, furious and vengeful. As she ran, she dropped three small explosives, about sixty feet apart. The explosives slipped into the ocean depths.

“Ready?” Seungcheol asked, a little breathless. “Are we far enough away?”

“Light him up,” you replied. Seungcheol reached up and tapped the button; somewhere behind you, the ocean exploded.

—

“How’s your shoulder?” you asked, later, in the med bay.

“Not that bad,” Seungcheol said, but you could see the blood-stains on the bandaging.

“It won’t happen again,” you promised. “I think I just… practiced alone for so long. I forgot to listen. I’m sorry.”

Seungcheol shook his hand, eyes finding yours. “There’s nothing to forgive, Cherry. Forget about it.” Then, he brightened. “You know what I want to do?”

“What?” you asked, not entirely past feeling guilty.

His smile was devilish. “I want to go celebrate our first fucking kill.”

– 

You marked the passing of two years in statistics.

Three hundred and forty-six explosives detonated.

Two hundred and eighty-three drops. Two hundred and eight-three kills. 

Seventy-two mainframe repairs.

Twenty-eight achievement awards.

Nine television interviews.

Six upgrades.

One ill-informed “vacation” during which you both itched with anxiety, spending the whole time messaging your friends back in the Shatterdome desperately, praying you wouldn’t miss a fight in which you were needed.

Seven hundred and thirty days of living in and around Seungcheol’s mind and heart. But that stat should’ve gone first.

It was a good high. Your team had a good run.

It wasn’t a kaiju that reduced it to ash, not an attack that took your team out of the rotation of main fighters and sent your jaeger to gather rust and dust below the Dome. It was your own stupid heart.

There were a lot of moments that could have been it. Each time you walked into a fight knowing the danger, each time he ended up in the med bay reeking of antibacterial ointment and resentment. Each time you slid into your place beside him - space he saved only for you. Each time his voice bidding you goodnight from the bottom bunk was the last thing you heard at the end of the day. Any of these moments might have been the one to make you stop, gasp, suddenly slammed with understanding. That you loved him, that he was everything you couldn’t bear to be without, that he was part of you. But they weren’t.

There was no moment of realization at all.

Instead, it slowly seeped into your consciousness, as gently and naturally as morning dew collecting on pre-dawn petals. The knowledge clung to you, as impossible to ignore as damp feet after running barefoot through the yard just after sunrise.

If you knew something, that meant your co-pilot would know it, too.

Unless you tucked it away, pushed it down deep and cast his attention elsewhere, a mental sleight-of-hand. Look here instead. 

You were twenty-three, on a routine patrol, when Mission Control radioed Duellona that there was a reading in the bay.

“Looks like it’s only a Cat-1,” Mission Control told you.

“On it,” you told them, feeling your body already mirroring Seungcheol’s as Duellona picked up her pace, striding through the waves. 

You glanced sideways at him, and immediately wished you hadn’t. He was already zoned in, eyes focused and jaw sharp as he concentrated. 

He caught your gaze for only a second. “Focus, Cherry,” he cautioned. “Don’t get cocky.”

“I would never,” you retorted, and he laughed. You were both cocky; you both knew it.

For a second, things felt better. 

The fight was almost easy, when the ocean seemed to split in two and the waves fell away like wrapping paper to reveal the kaiju you’d been sent for. 

You swung and ducked, dropping explosives strategically, Seungcheol moving in unison with you. There was something graceful about it - something beautiful in the sync, something holy in the way your muscles mimicked each other’s. 

This is what happens when sunlight hits morning dew: it warms, lifts, makes the air humid and sticky until it burns away. 

It rose up in you, your love for him, infusing the air around you, infusing the neural handshake that he was deeply imbedded in.

No. 

You panicked, tried to do several things at once - tried to shove the feeling down, tried to think of something else, tried to push Seungcheol’s consciousness out of yours.

Duellona Fury lurched around you, shuddering. 

“Cherry!” Seungcheol screamed to your left, and then the kaiju hit, its full weight slamming into Duellona’s mainframe.

You both staggered, trying to right yourselves, as the machines around you blinked and beeped and rebooted. 

Seungcheol grunted under the neural weight of driving alone as you gasped and closed your eyes, trying desperately to fix it. Around you, you heard the floating words - recalibrating.

“Recalibrate faster!” you shouted, glancing sideways to see your co-pilot struggling to hold the monster in place, his face contorting with effort, arms straining against the machinery. He bared his gritted teeth, exhaling in a hiss between them. 

You gave yourself a shake, bouncing on the balls of your feet, desperate for the connection to take again so you could pick up your half, take the literal weight from him. As soon as you felt the neural handshake, you gave a mighty shove and Duellona flipped the monster backwards, the ocean receding and then coming back to slam her shins, swallowing the monster whole.

You both sank into a defensive stance, ready for the beast to rise again.

“What was that?” Seungcheol demanded, later, as he sat in the med bay, waiting for his nosebleed to stop. The nosebleed you’d caused by letting him carry a neural load meant for two.

“I don’t know,” you lied, still panicked and desperate. 

“Bullshit,” Seungcheol countered, eyes narrowed. He reached up and pulled the cotton away from his face, examining it. “I’m fine now,” he announced, and tossed the wad into a nearby trash bin, standing.

You fought the urge to cower, knowing he’d never let it go if you did. You followed him silently out of the med bay and back towards your dormitories. Halfway there, he slowed, then stopped.

Then, more calmly this time, he asked, “What happened, Cherry? You pushed me out.”

There was a slight pout to it, a sliver of hurt, and it sliced through you like something tangible, like you were actually wounded from it, like it might actually bleed.

“I don’t know,” you repeated. Guilt poked at you until you relented, gave him something that was at least partly true.  “I got scared.” 

“That can’t happen, and you know it,” he said seriously, his large frame casting a long shadow to your left as he leaned into your space. “You can’t keep secrets - that’s piloting 101. We’ve got to handle it. You know what’s at stake here.”

You did; you did, and that was entirely the problem. It wasn’t just feelings, it wasn’t just your relationship with Seungcheol at stake. It was your relationship with your co-pilot - your ability to fight was at stake, your ability to keep others safe. Your legacy.

Your parents’ wall of pictures flashed in your mind.

“I’m going to my mom and dad’s for a while,” you said quietly. 

He nodded, let you run away - trusted you to come back to him when you were ready, trusted you to let him in.

You weren’t sure if he was right or wrong, as you walked away and left him behind.

You didn’t go to your parents’, though. Instead, you went to the tech bay and sat, watching Duellona undergo simple repairs from her fight. You stayed there, the metal cold beneath your thighs, watching the tech team buff over a scratch on your jaeger’s torso, until someone dropped into the spot next to you, bumping their shoulder roughly into yours.

“Where’s Seungcheol?” Wylie, who co-piloted Fury Striker with Chan, was your closest friend in the Dome besides Seungcheol. 

“He’s pissed at me,” you answered, looking sideways, because the question had really meant, why isn’t Seungcheol with you? 

You weren’t sure she’d understand what you were going through - she and Chan had been obsessed with each other since they were kids. Neither of them had ever had to fear that their love for each other would mess anything up. It had been part of their deal from the start.

“What’d you do?” Wylie demanded, turning her full, unfettered attention on you. You wanted to shrink from the intensity of it - but that was always how Wylie worked: full wattage, all the time.

“Almost got us killed by a fucking Cat-1 tonight,” you muttered, angry at yourself, angry at your heart.

Wylie smacked your arm hard enough to send you sideways. “Cherry!” she scolded. 

“There was something I didn’t want him to see.” You said it in your head first, weighed the words, then forced them through your teeth. You hoped she’d just know what it was, hoped you wouldn’t have to force those words past muscle and bone, too.

Wylie’s face dropped into irritation. “Cherry,” she repeated, disappointment dripping from the two syllables.

You looked up at Duellona Fury again. 

“You can’t do that,” she told you, giving your ankle a little kick for emphasis. “You know you can’t do that.”

You can’t love him? Or, you can’t keep secrets from him?

You didn’t ask. You didn’t want to know the answer.

Seungcheol was waiting up for you when you finally returned to the dorm. You opened the door to find the first room - an entryway and kitchen, both - dimly lit. Beyond it, in the small sitting space, Seungcheol sat facing the door, his chin in his hand.

You knew the look on his face. You knew it so well that you almost ran from it, almost turned right around and went back out to the hallway.

Brows slightly furrowed, mouth a straight line, jaw tight. Eyes focused, locked in. It was the face he made in training before he bodied someone. It was the face he made in the field before an offensive strike. It meant he had his sights on a target, a problem, and he was about to throw everything he had at it.

And right now, you were the problem.

“Hey?” you tried meekly.

He nodded. Licked his lips. Stood. 

He’s pissed at me, you’d told Wylie. The energy radiating from your co-pilot was much more complex than that, the air around you palpably tense and teetering.

“How was it at your parents’?” he asked, voice low. 

You took one tentative step closer. “I didn’t go,” you admitted. One lie between you was already more than you wanted. “I watched them patch up Duellona instead. Talked to Wylie a little.”

He nodded, eyes still on you. Nervousness coursed through you, but it would be a lie - another one - to say it wasn’t laced with a little excitement. He was stunning, always, but like this - it almost took your breath away.

If he was in your mind right now, there’d be no question. He’d know all of it. The attraction, the desire, the fear, the affection, the love, the need. All of it. 

His eyes caught on a bruise peeking out from the short sleeve of your top. “You should’ve had them look at that,” he said, reaching out like he wanted to run his fingers over the dark splotch, but he was just too far away, fingertips closing around the air just an inch or two away. 

You shook your head. “You needed attention first. You carried the neural load alone.” Because of me.

“Only for a minute.”

“A minute too long. I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

It hung between you. You don’t know if you’d inched forward or he had, or both, but you were close enough to touch now when you hadn’t been just seconds ago.

He lifted his eyes, his gaze locking on yours. In the dim room, his eyes shone black. “You pushed me out.”

It was an accusation, but it was also a question.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, barely able to say it, your voice coming out in a hoarse whisper. “Seungcheol, I was scared.”

Maybe he was in your head. Maybe he did know all of it.

“Don’t be,” he told you. “Don’t be scared.”

His arms were around you though you didn’t see him move. It wasn’t the first time you’d let him embrace you - after a fight, in relief, or in victorious delight, or sometimes just in sleepy affection at the end of a long day. It was far from the first time that you’d found comfort in the space between his arms, strong and capable around your frame, your forehead pressed against his sternum as his heart beat directly into your bones. 

But it was the first time that his fingers, confident and sure, tipped under your chin, guiding you to look up at him, guiding your mouth to meet his.

You don’t know if you melted or exploded - it was somehow both at once. You gripped his back, feeling the muscles move beneath his t-shirt, relaxing into his hold and focusing on the feel of his full lips firm and hungry against your own. This was everything - everything you’d wanted, everything you were afraid of, everything you needed, everything that could rip your life apart.

You didn’t mean to whine, but it slipped up your throat and into the gasped space between your lips and his as you tried to pull in a desperate breath. He responded with a grunt, walking you backwards until the edge of the kitchen counter jutted into your lower back. His hands traveled, up to the back of your neck, back down to the slight curve of your waist, around to the back of your ass. He tugged your hips against his roughly, and you let your head fall back, panting, head spinning.

“Cherry,” he breathed against the newly bared stretch of your neck, his lips close enough to drag against your skin as he spoke.

Your hands found the back of his neck, gave the slightest tug upwards, and he followed, bringing his mouth back to yours. His tongue pressed yours briefly, your moan muffled entirely by his mouth as you tried to press him closer, closer, as if you wanted your rib-cages to meld, to slip together like fitting puzzle pieces. 

His hand slipped lower from your ass and wrapped around your thighs, taking only a second to lift you onto the counter behind you. You wrapped yourself around him immediately, pulling him into the space between your legs, arms around his neck, pulling him in, wanting to feel every bit of him against you. 

His hands found the hem of your shirt and lifted; you raised your arms in compliance and felt the cotton slip over your head and your hands.

“Yours,” you murmured, but he had already reached back between his shoulder blades, his own top joining yours on the floor.

Your hands found him on their own, sliding over his skin, fingers dipping between muscles, thumbs sweeping over shadows.

You kissed until you turned liquid, molten, your fingers wrapped in his hair. His fingers mapped every inch of your skin, as if his job was to report back on every previously unknown dip, every rough circle, every beauty mark or blemish. His fingers traced them all, his hands passing over you reverently.

The brush of his bare chest against your own was torturous; delicious until you were full, until you couldn’t take it anymore, until the electric-sharp thrill became uncomfortable. You tilted backwards, creating more space between your torsos but pushing your hips firmly into his.

You both groaned at the contact. You could feel the heat and weight of him now, and everything instinctual within you urged you to shift further, to bring that heat and heaviness closer to the part of you that ached for it. 

He pressed his hips into you without reservation, your core clenching in response to the movement and the friction. 

Then he leaned back, his hands gripping the edge of the counter, his arms bracketing you on either side, his chest heaving as he struggled to control his breathing. He drank you in, his eyes as molten as you felt. You leaned back on your elbows and met his gaze.

The moment expanded; nothing existed but his eyes and the pant of his breath and the way he smelled like he’d just finished a fight and the way he felt between your thighs, unmovable and steady.

Neither of you was connected to jaeger machinery, but you may as well have been, because you knew without a shadow of a doubt that your minds were connected, the drift be damned. Your eyes locked, you knew he felt everything you felt - the gravity of what you were doing, the love that drove you, the fire coursing through you. If there was going to be hesitation or questioning, this was the moment, this was the pause. But you were one, your minds were one, and there was none of that. 

His unvoiced question definitively answered by the certainty that flowed between you, Seungcheol moved to lift you again, taking you easily from the countertop into the dark of the room you share, settling you on your back on his bottom bunk.

Above you, mostly shadowed, was your other half, the only person who knew and understood every cobwebbed corner of your consciousness, the only person who had walked through your mind and found himself mirrored in every way that mattered. He was beautiful in the fractured light, his expression serious and gaze intense. 

You reached up to slide your thumb along his jaw and his eyes fluttered closed, his breath leaving him as in relief, as if you’d made some kind of admission. 

Making love to Seungcheol felt like drifting. His eyes on you as his fingers pulled you apart felt the same as the careful way he’d watch you when your memories got emotional, like he was watching for any sign that you weren’t okay, that you needed more or less or him. 

The way his breath and shoulders shuddered when he pressed into you for the first time felt the same as when he faltered in face of his father’s memory; both times, his fingers laced through yours and held tight until you could both breathe again.

He felt how you’d always known he would. Perfect - a perfect fit for you, a physical compatibility you had never tested but had always trusted would be there. He took you apart without even trying, and all you could do was hold onto him, feel all of him, feel all of it, and try to remember to breathe.

You didn’t speak as you moved together in the dark; the only sounds in the tight room were muted gasps, tiny moans muffled against necks, skin on skin, the obscene squelching sounds that accompanied each snap of his hips. You didn’t say the words that your lips tried to form - it’s so much, go slow for a little, Seungcheol, I love you, more - please, don’t stop. Maybe he heard them. Maybe this was a different way to drift, one that didn’t need wires.

You did your best to hold his gaze, losing sight of him only when you strained up to kiss him, when you nuzzled your face into the warmth between his neck and shoulder and gasped against a wave of sensation, when you couldn’t help but close them as they rolled back, your toes curling. 

He pressed his forehead to yours when he finished, your name slipping out of him, as if it had been literally squeezed from his lungs. “Cherry… Cherry…”

You lay together in silence for a long time, feeling your hearts slow, your skin cool. Your thumb traced his jaw again and again, slow, worshipful. “Cheol,” you whispered. My Cheol. My everything. You didn’t say the rest as you lay together in the quiet, in the dark, your heartbeats competing. 

You didn’t know that you’d drifted together for the last time. You didn’t know that your ability to neural connect could be broken.

–

The wind whips around you, stinging your face. You barely flinch. When you’d first relocated here, three years ago, the cold had made you literally cry during your first month. Just from having to walk from the door of the dormitory across the yard to the mess hall dorm, the intensity of it had sent you spiraling into misery - damning the circumstances that had sent you here, away from everyone and everything you knew and loved, to a place where the air hurt. 

You were sure it would hurt, this intensely, forever.

But time eased the sting, and despite your doubts you did adjust. Now the early morning wind feels bracing and refreshing rather than painful. You’ve adjusted to a lot of things since relocating to a small training center in Alakanuk, Alaska: the climate, the food, the no-frills campus you lived and worked on. Being away from your parents, from Wylie and Chan and Seungkwan and Jeonghan and all the other pilots you were friends with at the Shatterdome.

Being away from Seungcheol. Being partnerless, a half instead of a whole. 

Being unable to pilot, unable to fight. 

Being brokenhearted.

Just like the cold, the pain of your losses was the same - the sting of heartbreak and loneliness and homesickness faded to something ignorable, something you could keep tucked tight in the back of your mind. 

You can hear the noise from inside the mess hall before you even cross the courtyard. There are short of fifty girls ranging from ages seven to eighteen being housed here, but from the noise you’d swear it was at least a hundred. 

The buildings are single-storied, painted with a heavily-chipping grey-blue that sometimes seems to belong to the mist you often get rolling in from the ocean. When you’d first come, you’d legitimately thought they were painted that way as camouflage, meant to blend in with the sea. The other trainers had a good laugh about that. 

As you cross the courtyard between the trainers’ dorms and the mess hall, you breathe deeply, eyes on the birds alight above you. After a lifetime in the Shatterdome, you don’t take for granted the fresh air you’re afforded as you pass between buildings, outside, the sky open and changing above. You don’t take for granted the rhythm of the ocean, the cries of the gulls, nor the distant treeline.

It was Seungcheol who had noted that you were sheltered, having never lived outside of the Dome. 

It was Seungcheol you could blame - at least halfway - for your relocation here, where there wasn’t a jaeger or even a city for hundreds of miles. 

When you pull open the flimsy door to the mess hall, the noise triples. Several of the girls call out to greet you, and you give them a quick wave as you head to the table where the staff eats.

“You’re later than normal,” one of the other instructors notes as you reach for a piece of bread.

You shrug lightly, unbothered. “Still have plenty of time before the first class. What day is today, Thursday? I’ve got the little ones first, right?”

The all-girls training center is meant to teach fighting and the groundworks for drifting, but no jaegers are housed here, no teams launch into the icy bay. The girls here will grow up to pilot - if they get selected, if they get paired with a partner. 

You’re mostly here to teach them to fight, the way you trained in the Dome, but you do plenty more. Help brush hair in the mornings, console tearful faces, teach games and sports, mediate arguments. You also got sucked into running one literacy class a week, though you still haven’t figured out how that happened. 

It would be a lie to say this wasn’t fulfilling, that you didn’t love the girls you cared for, that you weren’t happy here with the ocean and birds and trees and laughter. In many ways, the seclusion of this training center is exactly what you needed to get back on your feet, to find strength in yourself, to heal with distance and time.

But, god, what you would give for a real fight. What you would give to feel both loved and threatened by Wylie, to rib at the guys, to hug your mom. What you would give to hear Seungcheol’s teasing pout, to catch his gaze across the span of your jaeger and know what his body and yours will do, to feel his fingers just barely graze your back when he knows you need to be reminded to focus.

The final time you’d tried, the neural connection never took. It was like trying to connect with a stranger. It had simply been still, a thing that was never alive.

“Don’t do this,” Seungcheol had begged, and that had been the nail in the coffin.

Don’t do this, he’d said. It had landed like blame. Like everything was your fault, and only yours. Like you had broken the connection on purpose, were keeping him out, barricading your mind from his when you desperately wanted everything to go right back to normal.

After that failure, you didn’t tell him you were asking to be reassigned. You didn’t want to give him the chance to say don’t do this a second time.

You’ve just ended a class, the girls starting to filter out through the training room’s side door towards the mess hall for lunch, when the center’s Administrator calls your name from the door.

“There’s a call for you on my line. I have them holding.”

A call? 

Adrenaline races through you; it has to be an emergency. Your parents and friends can reach you on your own device, which is tucked into your back pocket. To call the mainline here at the center means this is a base-to-base call, not a personal one.

You’ve only been in this office a handful of times in your few years here, and you shuffle awkwardly around the desk and pick up the receiver that sits abandoned on the chipped, wooden desktop. 

You greet the person on the line with your real name. 

“Cherry?”

Your Marshall - your old Marshall, from the Dome - sounds unsure if he has the right person on the line. No one has called you Cherry in three years. Even your parents have used your given name the few times they’ve said it on your weekly calls home.

“It’s me,” you affirm. “Is everything okay? My parents?”

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, and you heave a relieved breath. “Everyone is fine. This is official business. I want to call you in.”

You shake your head, frowning, well aware that he can’t see your reaction. Your body has said no, but you force yourself to ask, “Me? Why?”

“We’re down a few teams,” the Marshall says. “And -”

“You’ve got more recruits than places to put them,” you counter before he can finish. “Call one of the new teams up. Call three new teams up. You don’t need me.”

“We do - we need teams with experience, teams that are ready. Not rookies bumbling around looking for mistakes. We need precision. We need Duellona Fury.”

Your Marshall lays out the situation: the teams that are out, the problems they’re having at the breach - less time between attacks, more monsters at once. You’ve seen this before, you all have, and there’s protocol in place - protocol that starts with all hands on deck. 

You shake your head again. From the door, the Administrator of the center watches you seriously, like she knows you’re being taken away. 

“Marshall, with all due respect, I don’t know why you’re calling me,” you admit. “What can I give you? I can’t pilot Duellona.”

Not anymore. 

The Marshall sighs, like he knew this argument was coming and didn’t have a good response. 

“I think you can,” he says finally. “I’m not saying it will be easy, and I’m not saying it will happen quickly or without effort. But I think you can.”

“No,” you say, the first time you’ve voiced it. “You were there. You saw what happened. We can’t drift anymore.”

“You couldn’t then,” he points out. “That was three years ago. You’ve both had a lot of time to…. You’ve both had a lot of time since then. Things that were once too painful to carry into the drift… they’ve had time to mellow.”

This blow knocks you into silence. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, eyes steadfastly on the warped wood of the desk, fingers toying absently with the Administrator’s pen. 

He’s wrong, and you want to tell him so. Nothing had mellowed. You love Seungcheol just as much today as you did three years ago. The splitting ache in your chest that you’ve felt every day since you became aware of loving him has only worked its way deeper with time. 

And Seungcheol’s anger? The anger and betrayal he’d leveled at you, when he was sure you were keeping him out of your head on purpose? You couldn’t speak for him, but if you had to guess, there weren’t enough years in a human life to let that hurt mellow into something safe enough to drift with.

“Have you talked to him about this?” You’re afraid of the answer. 

The Marshall hesitates. “Not yet.”

“You might want to do that first,” you point out. “Before flying me back only to have him refuse.” 

The Marshall’s voice hardens, and you can just picture his eyes narrowing. “Mr. Choi will follow orders,” he says evenly, “and so will you. Asking is really just a courtesy.”

“You can’t order us into being able to drift again,” you snap, pulse suddenly pounding in your arms, your hands, your face, your chest. 

“No,” the Marshall says, and any previous friendliness is gone from his voice now, “but I can - and will - order you to try.”

The girls cry when you tell them you’re leaving, and it makes you want to cry, too. You hold it together as you give them hugs, hold it together as you pack your single bag of belongings. You hold it together in the passenger seat of the center’s only beat-up van, waving out the back window as the training center fades away.

It’s standing on the deck of the ferry, the coast receding and the sea wind clawing at your face, that you let it go. You bury your face behind your hands and feel it release behind your ribs. You cry for all of it - for leaving the girls behind, for leaving a place that had sheltered you like a sanctuary. For the time you’d lost at the Dome, for the fights you’d sat out, for the years with your parents and friends that had slipped away like sand between your fingers. For your fear that Seungcheol will turn you away, just as hurt and angry as he was one thousand and ninety-five days ago. 

You’d been so determined to keep him from walking through the depths of your love for him, in the drift. You were so scared it would be too much, too intense, too much emotion for the drift. You’d been scared it would be too much for him - that the weight of it would inherently ask for more than he could give you in return. You’d been scared it would ruin your partnership, your compatibility, your capability to co-pilot.

But that had happened anyway. You almost have to laugh. 

As furiously as your tears begin, they peter out quickly. You take a few deep gulps of salty air, use the backs of your hands to wipe at your cheeks and beneath your nose. As you calm down, you keep your eyes on the horizon, your hands tight on the ship’s railing, and you let your mind wander back to Seungcheol. Here, thousands of miles away, you let yourself think back to those last weeks before you left the Shatterdome. You let yourself wonder, for the first time, what exactly caused everything to crumble.

You’d been so afraid to let Seungcheol into your head once the loving him had taken over. Why had it scared you so badly? As you keep your eyes on the grey of the horizon, you puzzle it out in your mind.

Had it been the uncertainty? That had certainly played a part. Did Seungcheol love you, back then? If he didn’t, everything between you could have changed - your friendship, your partnership, your ability to drift. It hadn’t seemed worth the risk to lose it all - his presence in your life, your ability to fight together. 

But maybe he had. If he did love you, back then… that would have changed things, too. What if starting something romantic affected your drift? There were too many maybes, too many variables. It had seemed safe to push it all down, to try and keep him away from it. To try and keep things the same.

Of course, you’d lost it all anyway.

Even if he did love you three years ago, you think as the sea air whips around you, did he love you the way you loved him? What if it had been too much - the way you could breathe once he was with you, the way you kept each other in check - what if he had loved you, but not that much?

Had it been a mistake to keep him out? Maybe. But it could have been just as catastrophic to let him in. There was no way to know, now.

You turn away from the ship’s railing, away from the horizon and the sea, away from your mistakes. There’s no use looking back like this. You can’t change it. You aren’t even sure you can fix it.

You were hoping to sleep on the plane, but you’re woefully awake well after take-off. Determined not to keep ruminating on what had happened before you left, instead you wonder what awaits you now.

The most-likely scenario, you think, professional and polite - but cold. Like you, he takes duty and responsibility seriously. The airplane bumps, a pocket of air jostling the small craft, and your hands find the armrests and cling tight until it stops.

The best case scenario, of course, would be that enough time has passed that Seungcheol’s hurt has faded. Maybe, you think, maybe he’s moved on from harboring that anger. Maybe he’ll greet you warmly, maybe you’ll pick up right where you left off.

This hope, this day-dream, aches, so much that you blink it away and turn to watch the clouds through the window, a desperate distraction. You crave Seungcheol - you crave feeling safe with his arms around you, you crave the elation you’d feel when he entered the room you were in, you crave the peace that comes with two minds engaged in neural handshake - the peace of someone’s mind interlaced with your own, understanding you, operating with you, picking up half of your mental lift.

You crave his giggle when you say something stupid in the dark of the dorm before bed, his pout when he feels like he isn’t getting enough attention, you crave his voice echoing in your head long after he’s gone asleep because you heard him talk to you all day long. 

You crave his lips on yours, his teeth on your neck, his hands on your body, even if you only had it once. You’ve craved it ever since.

You crave closing your eyes and pressing your forehead to his sternum, feeling safe and quiet and like you belong. You miss the sanctuary of that space, chest to chest with him, something sacred in the way it exists only for you.

You know you can’t have it - any of it. The daydream isn’t real. Your curse will be to crave it forever, alone.

When you arrive at the Shatterdome, it’s your parents who greet you just inside. For a moment, you’re happy to be back, overcome with emotion as you hug them tight. They’ve aged in these three years. You’ve missed them awfully. You only tell them the latter. 

They walk with you to the Marshall’s office, where you’re meant to report upon arrival. 

You hesitate, covering the moment by tugging your duffle’s strap higher on your shoulder. Your mother reads you anyway, reaching out and giving your shoulder a squeeze. 

“It will be okay,” she whispers. 

Your father catches on. “You’ve faced down worse,” he reasons. 

You disagree. There’s no monster in the sea bigger than your love for Seungcheol, no wounding possible that could hurt more than losing him has. But you appreciate the sentiment, so you give them each a grateful nod, tell them you’ll visit after dinner, and turn to knock on the door.

“Come in,” the Marshall’s voice carries through the door, and you turn the knob and step inside. 

All you see is Seungcheol; the Marshall, the office furniture, the flickering screens on the walls all snap into nonexistence in the presence of your former lover. He’s the only thing in the room that comes into focus. Everything else is just fuzzy noise.

His face wavers for a moment when your eyes meet his, the muscles rippling as he fights to get them under control. 

You don’t know what reaction he’s fighting. You don’t know if he’s feeling happiness or hatred. You don’t know if he’s fighting a smile or a scowl.

You give him a quick bow in greeting, and he returns it. His face is stone, now, his mouth tight and eyes flat. 

He turns to face the Marshall, to receive orders, so you do the same.

“I trust your travel went well?” the Marshall begins.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Even the single syllable of yes will come out of your mouth like gravel and dirt and sand, getting everywhere, leaving a trail.

“Your orders,” he says then, a bit of a sigh on his tone - as if he knows the uphill battle this will be, “are to reconnect as best you can. You’ll follow your old schedule. You’ll spar, you’ll meditate, and you’ll talk. After some time, we’ll try the drift again, see if the connection has recovered any.”

Seungcheol’s voice startles you when he speaks. “How long do you imagine it will be before we try?” he asks, just cold enough to have a sliver of sarcasm in it. 

The Marshall’s eyes narrow, just slightly, as if he’d caught it. “That’s entirely up to you two,” he says evenly. “When you were young and hungry to fight, you trained yourselves into exhaustion. You spent every waking second trying to cultivate the bond that would carry you into your jaeger. With the same intention and drive, I imagine you could be piloting Duellona within the week.”

You fight to keep your chin up, your eyes on the Marshall, instead of ducking your head and watching the floor. The Marshall lifts his arm and glances at his watch. 

“Your allotted time in Sparring Room 7 begins on the hour,” he says. This is his way of dismissing you.

In the hallway, you pause. “I’m just going to drop my bag in the dorm,” you say quietly, not looking at Seungcheol. 

He gives a tight nod. “Fine,” he says, and turns to go the other way, towards the sparring and training rooms. Clearly he intends to meet you there. You heave a deep breath, and turn back towards the wing with the dorms.

Stepping into the dorm you used to share with Seungcheol hits you harder than you thought it would. You’re not sure what you expected - to feel like coming home, maybe, or perhaps to be slapped with the memories of you and Seungcheol together, dancing around each other as you hurried to get dressed for a drop, lazing around in the sitting area after a full day of training. And, of course, the single night you’d spent together.

Neither thing happens. You aren’t overcome by a feeling of nostalgia and love, nor are you inundated by memories of what you’ve lost. Instead, the room feels exactly as it is: empty and still.

Your footsteps’ echoes taunt you as you walk through the kitchen, the sitting area, and into the bedroom. It’s pristine to the point of detriment; it feels like no one lives there. You set your bag on the floor near the foot of the bed - you can unpack later, after training - and turn to go.

Strangely, it’s stepping into the training room that slams you with memory and nostalgia. The wood cool beneath your feet, the vague smell of sweat and citrus-y cleaner, the sounds of punches landing and grunts of effort from the training rooms on either side - they all cocoon you in history, making goosebumps rise on your arms as the emotions surround you.

It makes sense, you think, as Seungcheol glances over his shoulder at the sound of your arrival. He doesn’t speak to you, just swaggers to the center of the room and takes a stance you recognize from Form One. Your body leads you opposite him, muscle memory guiding you into the first form you ever learned with him. It makes sense that this would be what felt like home - your minds going empty together, your bodies following the steps in unison. The sparring forms are the closest you can get to drifting without an actual neural connection.

Well, that and sleeping together, but you don’t see that on your agenda.

You stare at him across the invisible circle between you and try to read him. His face is cold and empty, but that already tells you so much about what he’s feeling. Seungcheol was never cold with you. When you fought together he slipped into that mode you loved so much - ready to level anything, chin lifted, eyes narrowed, confident and so very strong. But it was when you were together outside the fights that you had loved him best - often pouting, lips protruding, voice lifting into a whine. And the best of all - that smile, dimples creating shadows that beg for your thumb to press them, eyes squeezing shut with happiness or laughter.

Something must show on your face, because you watch the muscles in Seungcheol’s upper body untense, as if he’d been ready to fight and recognized that you weren’t.

“I’m good,” you mutter quickly, before he can ask. It feels better to lie to him before he actually asks you, like that’s somehow less dishonest. “Let’s go.”

Form One is basic - no hits, no fancy moves. At the training center, you’d teach it to the littlest ones until they had it memorized. It was really about control and communication - precision and alignment with your partner. You had to breathe together as your feet traced opposite circles across the knots in the wooden floor. You had to rise and bend in unison. It was about watching and listening.

You and Seungcheol could - literally, you’d tried more than once - do it blindfolded in perfect step with one another. Before. You don’t know if you still can. But, now, unblindfolded, it’s too easy.

You move through forms one through six without incident - both of you flowing as easily as water.

Form Seven is the first form that incorporates actual hits and blocks. You’ll have to touch for the first time, even if it’s forearm to forearm or ankle to shoulder. You move right as he moves left, crouch and circle as his right foot flies over your head, stand and punch where you know his open hand will be waiting to stop you.

It is, and you press your fist against it for just a second before spinning away to continue the form. You ache, even as your body continues following the steps, to have him entirely again - to meet his eyes and smile the way you both used to, because you were pleased with what your bodies could do. Because you had each other, completely.

After the tenth form, you bow, turn, and walk out of the ring. You drink some water, your back to him. Years ago you’d have used this break to chat, but you don’t know what to say to him. You’re scared that he’ll shut down anything you say, whether you choose small talk or go straight for the heart of the problem, and you honestly don’t think you can shoulder his rejection right now. So you stay quiet.

After a few short minutes of rest, you return to the center of the room. This is when you’ll spar for real.

You and Seungcheol had done this for years before things went wrong. You’d long ago adjusted to how hard you should hit, how to dodge his moves, how to make this a dance as much as a fight. Now, you feel like it’s your first time again.

Seungcheol attacks as you’d expect - all offensive, pushy, succeeding in herding you backwards even as you dodge each blow. You know his goal is to flip you, and normally you can avoid that by forcing him to go on the defensive as he avoids your own hits. Simply dodging won’t be enough - eventually he’ll cage you in unless you distract him.

You throw yourself into a summersault and manage to get behind him - an opportune moment to strike. You shift your weight to follow the blow as you twist your hips to send a kick towards his unprotected head. He turns just too late - the blow will land.

You can’t do it. You freeze, your core working to keep you upright as you fight your own momentum, halting the kick inches from his temple.

You know immediately that pulling the hit was a mistake. His eyes narrow, and he sweeps his foot at the ankle you’re balancing on. You crash to the ground, heaving a breath and taking quick inventory.

You aren’t hurt. Not this time.

“Get up, Cherry,” he says darkly, moving back to the center to start again. “And don’t do that shit again.”

He comes at you full force in the next match, too. You dodge and weave, but you don’t try to strike. You know he knows it; this isn’t how it used to work. You can almost feel him get angrier as you fight, but you can’t make yourself hit back. You want him to knock you down, you deserve to take some shots.

You take two blows to the back and one to a shoulder; you fall back unsteadily but manage to find your footing and roll away from his next kick.

The match continues - you taking a handful of blows, though none with the force to level you, and Seungcheol with his lip curled in fury.

“If you’re not going to fight, then leave,” he spits.

“Would if I could,” you retort without thinking. You mean that you don’t want to be here like this - not talking, cold, at odds. But you know it reads as not wanting to be here at all.

It seems like everything you say and do only hurts him more.

“I didn’t mean -” you start, and Seungcheol takes your arms and flips you over his shoulders.

“Don’t waste my fucking time,” he says, brushing his hands together and stepping back to give you room to pick yourself up.

“Don’t curse at me,” you answer, pushing yourself to your hands and knees, pausing to catch your breath before rising fully again.

He shakes his head, rolls his eyes a little.

You hate this side of him.

You know you deserve it. For pushing him out. For leaving him here. For loving him, messing everything up, when he never asked for that.

“Seungcheol,” you say, but he ignores you, pacing a few steps and then turning to face you, lowering himself into a defensive stance, ready to spar again.

“Cheol,” you try again. “Listen to me.”

“Marshall scheduled us time to talk later,” he says flatly. “Right now we’re scheduled to fight. So fight me, Cherry. Let’s go.”

The rest of the hour continues the same. By the time it’s over, Seungcheol storms out without speaking to you, furious over every single pulled punch.

You don’t know what to do to make it all better.

You shower quickly, dressing in dry linens, and then re-emerge for the hours you’re scheduled to meditate together. You hope that maybe this will help the situation - maybe not talking will be good for you, give you a chance to feel your connection without the chance to fuck it up with words.

You’re wrong; trying to meditate together is just as desperately fruitless as sparring had been.

You can’t focus at all - can’t shift your attention to your breath, to your body, to the earth beneath you, to the energy of your partner.

Your partner is the distraction, though he sits perfectly still, eyes closed. He might as well be yelling. His shoulders are tight, his jaw still clenched. Anger radiates off him so strongly that it makes your stomach hurt, makes you want to cower from it. You can’t stop watching him, hoping you’ll see him relax, hoping you’ll see the moment that he lets go.

He doesn’t.

“Your eyes are supposed to be closed,” he murmurs, and you feel your face heat, embarrassed that he knew you were watching him.

“I can’t,” you admit. Maybe, you think, you should just be brutally honest, starting now. It’s not like you could make this worse. “I can’t stop noticing how angry -”

“Then stop pissing me off,” he snaps, eyes opening. “Just a suggestion.”

“Don’t talk to me like that!” you cry, and push yourself to stand. You’re not sure why - maybe just to pace. “You never used to talk to me like this. Who are you?”

He looks at the floor, the first sign of guilt you’ve seen since you came home.

“Fine,” he finally bites back, and you know it’s as close to sorry as you’ll get. “I’ll reign it in. Sit back down.”

You shift your weight, arms crossed defensively across your chest, and close your eyes, deciding.

“Sit down, Cherry,” he repeats, and it’s gentler now. That’s what makes you cave, and you settle back across from him.

He’s less tense this time, so you eventually manage to close your eyes and count your breaths. But you’re still feeling for him, reaching for him in your mind, and coming up with nothing between you fingers. Touching him is as possible as touching the fog that used to blanket the training center, thick enough to blind you but impossible to grasp.

The pain feels like a cramp, except it’s behind your ribs instead of in your muscles. The pain grips and tightens, takes over. You want him, you want to be his again, you want to be inside these walls - where you used to fit comfortably. The fact that you’re out here, without him, aches so badly it makes you nauseated.

You want to beg him - let me in again, let me back in, let me be close to you again.

It won’t do any good, and you know it.

He was yours - you had him, you knew him, you could reach out to him and he’d pick you up. You’d taken it for granted, and you’d run away from it. You’d chosen to let it go, and now all you get is this: Seungcheol, cold and closed. Seungcheol, hating you for everything that happened.

—

Dinner is just as bad.

You go to the mess hall eager to see Wylie and Jeonghan and Seungkwan and all the other friends you haven’t seen in years. Wylie screeches like a banshee when she spots you, crossing the mess hall in a blur and hugging you so tightly that you both stagger, off balance, until Seungkwan joins the hug and rights you again.

“I missed you both so much,” you whisper, the only vulnerability anyone’s going to get out of you today.

“Then don’t leave again!” Wylie snaps, but you know the admonishment is full of love.

“I can’t promise,” you admit. Honestly, you’ve already made up your mind - you want to go back to Alaska. You’re not wanted here, not by the person who matters. What good are you, taking up a bed, if you can’t drift?

You’ve already given up hope that he’ll come around.

Seated at the table, you listen while your friends fill you in on what you’ve missed in three years - the fights in the bay, the new teams of pilots, the illnesses and injuries. You almost don’t notice Seungcheol silently takes a seat on Jeonghan’s other side, but something in you prickles, like you’ve sensed him.

The tension around the table heightens; the conversation goes a little stilted. When it’s apparent that he’s going to ignore you two seats down from him, Wylie slaps her hand flat on the tabletop.

“Come on, Seungcheol,” she scolds, and you’re sure no one wonders what she means.

His face goes dark so quickly it’s alarming. “Don’t,” he tells her darkly, one finger coming up to point at her in warning.

Her own eyes narrow and dart to her fork. Beside her, Chan’s eyes pingpong between them. He’s probably wondering if he should hold her back or join her.

“It’s fine,” you mutter, grabbing your tray and making to rise. “I’ll go.”

“Cherry, no,” Wylie protests, and then turns a glower onto your ex-co-pilot as if to say see what you did?

“It’s fine,” you repeat, standing. “I told my mom and dad I’d come by.”

You slink out before anyone else can argue.

You can’t even be mad at him - you did this by pushing him away. You hammered every last nail in the coffin by requesting to transfer. You pushed him out and you left him behind and now you have to face the reality that you can’t have him anymore. He isn’t yours, not anymore.

When you return to your dorm, he’s already in bed, the lights out. He’s facing the wall so you can only see his back, can only see the angry, tight shoulder poking out the top of the sheets. It tells you everything you need to know.

You don’t try to talk to him. You just go to bed.

—

You spend four days identically - fighting while sparring, not meditating, and avoiding Seungcheol’s ice-out. On the fifth day, your Marshall loses patience and changes your schedule. Your entire day is blocked to working on Duellona’s mainframe - buffing, repainting, greasing, and anything else you’re able to handle on your own.

“Since you can’t do anything else useful,” he adds, and you avoid Seungcheol’s eyes, ashamed.

Standing under Duellona’s unlit frame fills you with guilt. It feels like you’re letting her down, disappointing her by letting her rust here, failing your half of the bargain. You run your hands gently over the metal, finding the rough spots that need attention. Somewhere to your left, you can hear the telltale sounds of Seungcheol tightening bolts.

You work in silence for hours.

Eventually, you crack. You’re not sure if it’s the monotony of the task, the tension woven into the silence between you too, or being so close to your jaeger but unable to fight in it - maybe a combination. Something pushes at you from the inside, like a balloon trying to inflate under your skin and running out of room.

You flop backwards on the metal walkway, the grooves digging into your back. “What are we doing?” you ask, and you hear the tool Seungcheol had been using cling loudly as he sets it down.

“Following orders?” he says, stepping around Duellona’s side to look at you. “Fixing up the jaeger?”

“Fixing up the jaeger we don’t get to pilot?” you ask, sitting back up to look at him better.

“Is that what you’re here for?” he asks, the sudden ferocity of it surprising you. “To fight? Is that why you came back?”

You reach up to the walkway’s railing and pull yourself up. You feel yourself frowning at his question, at the heat behind it. 

“I’m back because the Marshall gave me an order,” you say slowly. 

“And that’s it?” he demands. 

You stare at him. You feel sure there’s more to the question, more that he’s asking. You feel sure, after knowing Choi Seungcheol down to the last molecule, that he’s really asking, you didn’t come back for me?

And it confuses you. You try to think about your split from his perspective: you’d shut him out, then slept with him, and then vanished. You’d made a lot of assumptions about his anger since then. You assumed he was angry at you for pushing him out of your head. You assumed he was angry at you for sleeping with him and then leaving. You assumed he was angry with you for ruining your drift, for ripping him away from the ability to fight. You assumed he was angry because he never knew why - never knew what it was that you were so desperate to hide, never knew why sleeping together had made things so much worse that the neural connection had fizzled into nothing altogether.

Is there more to it, his anger?

Should you call him on it, should you ask?

You take too long deciding. Seungcheol scoffs, like he’s disgusted with you. “I should have known,” he says coldly. “Princess of the Shatterdome, I should have known you only cared about piloting - about your legacy.”

This is something you’ve never said to him - that your desire to shine as brightly as your parents has weighed on you. This is something he’d pulled from the drift, something he only knew from tiptoeing around your mind before a fight. 

“That isn’t fair,” you say, your voice hard. “Is there another reason I should have come back? I’d love to hear it.”

He hears the challenge as it is - you didn’t ask me to come back, the Marshall did. You let me go.

He has nothing to say for himself, just stares back at you, eyes narrowed in anger, chest moving too quickly as he battles with his temper.

“Exactly,” you say curtly. The victory stings. It doesn’t feel like a win at all. “The bottom line is I’m here now, and we can pilot again if we can get our shit together.”

He shakes his head. “You left,” he says finally. “That’s the bottom line. You decided you were out, you decided you didn’t want me in your head, and then you left.”

He watches you, waits for you to say something. When you don’t, he lets out a derisive little laugh. “We’re both wasting our time here. The drift won’t work. We aren’t going to fix it.”

For the first time, fear slices through you like steel. “You can’t know that,” you say. You hear the fear in the way your voice comes out low and rounded, barely sounding like you at all.

“I can,” he retorts. “You know how I know? Because I don’t want to. You wanted me out of your head so badly? You got it. Can’t turn back now.”

He heads for the ladder, swings around and finds the third rung down with ease.

“So that’s it?” you ask his retreating form. Your heart is hammering and you’re starting to get tunnel vision. 

The only answer he gives you are his feet hitting each new rung with a clunk and a vibration that rattles up your legs.

—

You go to the training rooms alone and run through the forms just to do something; your mind turns the problem over and over as your body goes through the motions. After, you take a longer shower than normal, letting the water run hotter than you normally would.

After, you go to the Marshall’s office, determined. Or maybe resigned.

When he opens the door, he already looks irritated, like he knew exactly who would be on the other side.

“Requesting an audience,” you say flatly, fighting the instinct to cross your arms defensively.

He glances at his watch. “Five minutes.”

You step inside but leave the door open.

“I’m requesting transfer back to Alakanuk,” you tell him as evenly as you can manage. You’re sure he’s not surprised. “Seungcheol has made it very clear that we won’t be fighting together again. If that’s the case, then I can’t do anything useful here. But in Alakanuk I can.”

You pause, looking to see if you can read anything on the Marshall’s face - any hint that he’s considering what you’re saying, or that it’s a lost cause. He gives you nothing.

“Please,” you say. “Those girls need me. If I can’t help here, I can help them.”

The Marshall tilts his head just slightly. “Surely anyone can teach little girls the forms.”

You shake your head. “It’s more than that, and you know it. It’s not about the forms. I love those girls. I came back here to follow orders, and I tried. But if it isn’t going to happen… Please, don’t make me waste time here if I can be with them instead.”

The silence when you stop speaking seems to last for hours. Your heart pounds, and you work on keeping your breathing even. If he tells you no, you might just lose it, just give up entirely.

Finally, he takes a breath and seems to consider you. “If,” he says, and your eyes widen with hope, “your co-pilot agrees, then I will reassign you back to Alaska. But only if he will agree.”

“No problem,” you say quickly. Seungcheol was the one who said it was over. He should have no problem letting you leave.

When you step out of the Marshall’s office, Seungcheol steps out of the shadows. You should be surprised to see him, but in the Shatterdome it feels right that he just is wherever you are. That’s always how it was, before.

You look at him disdainfully. “I assume you heard that conversation?”

He nods, once.

“So?” you ask. “Will you tell him you approve, so I can go?”

For the first time since you returned, Seungcheol smiles, tight and sarcastic.

“No,” he says easily, like it’s kind of funny.

Fury erupts inside you; you can’t even pinpoint where in your body it stems from. “Why?” you demand. “Because you feel like I took something from you, so you want to take something from me?”

He doesn’t respond to this. You know you’re right. You know him. You know his mind.

“I hate to fuck up your narrative,” you spit at him, “but I’ve lost out here just as much as you have. You’re not the only one who lost the ability to fight. You’re not the only one who lost their partner.”

You wish you could tell him the rest - you’re not the one who spent three years with a broken heart on top of it. He had lost you as a partner and a friend - you had lost him in the same ways, and you’d had to harbor your broken heart.

He shakes his head. “Poor baby,” he bites sarcastically, and then takes off down the hallway, into the dark.

—

You stop sleeping at the dorm. Sometimes you sleep at your parents’, sometimes on Wylie and Chan’s tiny couch, sometimes in bed with Seungkwan, who kicks at you and whines that you take up too much space. Sometimes you sleep inside Duellona Fury, sitting up, your back against her metal frame.

The Marshall seems to have taken some pity on you. He schedules your mornings training the Dome’s recruits, and lets Seungcheol get back to what he was doing in your absence - which seems to be on track to move up in rank, to maybe become a Marshall himself, someday. It isn’t quite the same as being back with your girls, but training recruits feels at least somewhat fulfilling. And it keeps you and Seungcheol busy - separately - until afternoon.

Then, he schedules you to spar.

In your first week, you’d been unwilling to hit Seungcheol. You’d been feeling guilty for hurting him, sad for your time apart, hopeful that if you were soft to him, then he’d be soft back to you.

Now, you’re fucking furious.

For the first time, when the match begins, you hit him first. He’s surprised for only a second, eyebrows shooting up as he stumbles for balance, and then you watch something delighted and devilish fall over his face. Like he knows exactly what dance this is, and he’s been learning the steps in secret.

The match is brutal, reminiscent of your very first one, when you were both nineteen. You throw hit after hit his way; he blocks or dodges all of them. But he can’t get a hit on you either - you’re too quick, spurred on by fury. You’ve been angry in a fight before. But you’ve never been angry at him.

You spin and throw up a kick, expecting his forearm to rise and block it. Instead, you knock him in the jaw.

He grunts, hand flying up to cover his mouth, and you drop your stance with a gasp.

“Shit!” you cry, hurrying closer. “I’m so sorry! Are you bleeding? Let me look.”

“‘M fine,” he mutters thickly from behind his hand, but you ignore him. For a second, things are how they used to be between you. He lets you peel his hand away, lets you gingerly turn his head this way and that, even opens up so you can check his teeth.

“You’re gonna have a fat lip,” you tell him regretfully. “But nothing’s bleeding. Teeth look okay. Anything loose in there?”

He pokes around his teeth with his pinky. “Nope.”

You take a step back, cowed. “I’m really sorry.”

He laughs a little, wryly. “I bet you feel better, though.”

You bite back a smile. “Actually…” you say, and he laughs again. You both do.

Somehow, this seems to be the thing that cracks the anger you’ve both been encased in, unable to move forward or backward. You feel melted, and you wonder if he feels freer now, too.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you say. You mean the kick, but the words land heavy.

He avoids your gaze. “I need some water,” he says, turning and heading to the side of the room.

You do the same, sitting heavily on the bench where your water waits for you.

“Hey,” he says, and you look over, brows raised in anticipation. “Tell me about Alaska.”

You can’t help but smile.

“It’s so beautiful,” you tell him. “God, Cheol, the ocean there. And the birds, and the snow…”

He’s watching you, listening, but while he listens he stands and heads to the center of the ring, settling into a starting form. With a small smile, you follow, standing opposite him. He starts an easy match that’s mostly just following the eighth form. It includes some hits and blocks, but you both do them gently, easily, circling each other slowly.

“So you liked it?” he asks. You can hear how hard he’s working to make it sound casual.

“It was so beautiful,” you admit before ducking below a kick. “But it was also… really hard.”

“What was the best part?” he asks.

You smile, block a hit. He almost gets his hands on you for a flip, but you dodge around behind him. He turns to follow you. “Weirdly, it was taking care of them outside of class. We - the instructors - we kind of their moms, away from home, you know? I’m the one who knew Yejin won’t sleep unless someone sits by her bed for a while. I’m the one that knew that Farrah and Salome only argue because they’re competitive. I’m the one that knew that Maria and Anjali don’t know their times-tables, that Ximena can’t brush her own hair, or that Iseul is allergic to fish. I loved them. I loved knowing them.”

He looks at you for a long time. “Maybe you should go back,” he says finally.

It feels like a trap. 

You look at the floor, at the wall, then finally back at him. “If you’ll do this for real,” you say carefully, “then I’d rather be here. If we’re actually trying, then I don’t want to go.”

He’s quiet for a long time. Finally, he swallows hard, not looking at you.

“What was the worst part?”

There’s only one answer.

“Missing you,” you say. “Losing you.”

He manages to get both of your arms and hauls you over his shoulders. You land on your back so hard that the air is knocked out of your lungs and your eyes close protectively. For a second, you lay there panting, waiting for the pain in your back to settle down, waiting for the stars behind your eyelids to calm.

When you open them again, the ceiling coming into focus above you, the room is empty.

–

You have a hunch on where you can find him, and you head to the jaeger bay. Sure enough, he’s sitting below Duellona, knees to his chest, staring up at her.

You sit next to him and he doesn’t get up and leave, which you take as a good sign.

“I can’t do this if you’re not all in,” he tells you without looking at you. “You walked away from me once. I can’t let you back in my head if there’s any possibility you’ll walk away again. If you’re with me, I need you to be with me.”

Something prickles in the back of your head. You feel like you’re starting to realize something - the seed of an understanding is pushing delicately through the dirt, but hasn’t yet spread out its leaves under the warmth of the sun yet.

Something about his hurt. Something about why.

“I think we should try to drift,” you tell him.

This seems to startle him - he forgets to be cold, turns to look at you, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“I can tell you how much I missed you,” you reason, “and tell you about how I spent every minute just… steeped in regret. Or we can walk through it - you can see for yourself.”

You know what you’re risking. If he gets into your head now, he’ll see it all - he’ll know everything, he’ll be able to feel for himself the depth of your loss, the height of your love. 

But what’s the harm, now? You can’t lose him twice. Maybe it’ll be enough for him to realize you hadn’t left him because you didn’t care about him. Maybe it’ll be enough for his forgiveness. 

Maybe then, he’ll tell the Marshall to let you go back to Alakanuk. 

It’s Seungkwan you bother, since he’d been in mission control before finding his team of co-pilots. The sideways look he gives you as he walks to your conn pod is withering, but you know better than to take it personally.

You buzz with nerves. The last time you’d tried this, the neural handshake hadn’t even connected. There had just been nothing.

The second you hear neural handshake initiating, you almost sob with relief. You can’t even pay attention to the memories - Seungcheol’s memories - floating around you; you want to collapse, to press your palms to the ground and thank the universe for letting you back in.

His first memories are a breeze - the ones you’ve jogged through together hundreds of times: his first home, his school, his father’s hospital room, the Dome. Then you slow your pace, because this is new.

You’re facing the landing dock on the Shatterdome’s roof. Seungcheol stands with his back to you, watching through the glass walls as a helicopter waits, the pilot talking into his headset.

You watch yourself walk towards the chopper’s open door. You watch yourself leave, remember how hard it was to not look back.

You hadn’t known that Seungcheol had been there, that he had seen you go.

The pain that accompanies the memory hits you like you’re drowning, like it’s too deep and you can’t feel the bottom, and you feel the machinery falter around you.

“Hey,” you say quietly. “I’m with you.”

He nods, still doesn’t look at you. But the beeping stops, the connection holding. 

There’s knowledge in this memory, knowledge in this pain. Seungcheol’s thoughts in this moment read in your head as clearly as if he said them aloud - I did this. I pushed her too far; I made her run.

You can’t stay here, can’t let him wallow in the memory of pain. You had to move forward - that’s how the drift works. Reluctantly you step towards the door, glancing over your shoulder to see if he’s following. 

He is. His jaw is tight and fists are clenched, but he is.

When the next memory - not in order of chronology, clearly - appears before you, you want to vanish into the floor. You’re watching yourselves in Seungcheol’s bed. Thankfully, you’re sleeping - this was after. But in the memory, Seungcheol is awake, laying on his side, his eyes drinking in your sleeping form.

The emotions and the knowledge come with it in an instant. The tenderness and the love he felt in that moment surround you now in the memory, unignorable, impossible to mistake. 

He had loved you. He had known you loved him, and he was showing you how he felt. The understanding slams you so hard that you think you stop breathing.

“Seungcheol,” you whisper. Around you, the scene begins to flicker, the connection starting to react to the oversaturation of emotion.

“We can talk about it after,” he says, voice hard. “Don’t stay in it. Find the next door.”

Your eyes find the door, but you feel frozen. You want the connection to drop, you want to unlock yourself from the stupid drive-suit and throw yourself into his arms, you want to apologize for leaving him thinking he’d pushed you away, thinking that he scared you into running.

“Cherry,” he warns. “The drift can’t -”

You know. 

And you owe him your side of the story.

You take a steeling breath and head for the door. You don’t take his hand. You don’t know if you deserve to, if he’d want you to.

When you step through the doors, you’re confused - you’re still in your dorm. Your bodies are both in the bed.

Now, though, Seungcheol sleeps, and you - the memory of you - sits on the edge of the bed, your head in your hands. 

You feel the emotion the memory holds, which means Seungcheol does, too.

Fear. It’s still fear - fear that he’ll know, fear that what you just did together will make it worse, make it harder to hide. 

Beside you, Seungcheol’s eyes go wide. 

“We have to move on,” you tell him. He looks at you, then back at the memory. 

“You -?” he starts to ask.

“After,” you tell him firmly. “We’ll talk after.”

You open the door, and you’re suddenly outside, surrounded by white.

Alaska.

The emotion knocks you over with the fury of an ocean wave - even though you know you’re not supposed to let it. This was how you had felt every day that you were gone, and it screams at you now, determined to be heart, determined to be felt. The loneliness, the regret, the despair and heartbreak all rise up in you, overtaking you, as snow falls gently and silently around you.

And the love. That never went away. That never mellowed, as the Marshall had put it.

If he didn’t know before, he has to know now. There’s no way he couldn’t.

Seungcheol squeezes your hand, and you almost jump. You look down at your linked fingers in shock, then up at him, eyes wide.

“We should go back and talk about this,” he tells you, but his grip on you is firm, assuring.

“Okay. It’s this way,” you tell him, trying to breathe, and you lead him by the hand through the snow. The fog strengthens as you walk, until you can’t see anything but grey, can’t see anything but Seungcheol’s hand in yours.

You continue on. You know where to go. When you step through, the fog vanishes as if it was never there, nothing gradual about it. With the fog gone, you can see clearly where you are - inside Duellona Fury’s conn-pod.

As you begin to work on the straps, you call through the intercom, “Kwan? We… need some privacy. We’ve got to talk - alone.”

His voice crackles back at you. “Yes, I’m leaving, I’m already gone. If you hear popcorn crunching, no you don’t.”

Seungcheol gives you a flat look. “Let’s go home and talk,” he suggests.

Home.

You are so afraid and so hopeful. You don’t know how to juggle both.

Back in your small living space, you sit like you’re meditating.

“Let’s figure this out,” he says. “No lies.”

“No lies,” you agree. Your knees touch, and you reach to take his hands. He lets you, giving your fingers a squeeze.

“You knew,” you say first, bordering on accusation. “I was trying so hard to hide how I felt about you… but you knew.”

He nods, his eyes on you. “And you,” he says slowly, “didn’t… know? That I knew?”

You shake your head, confirming. “I didn’t know. I thought I hid it.”

He smiles at you, a little placating. “Not as well as you would have liked.”

“And you…” You chicken out, swallow, force yourself to be brave. “You… loved me, too?”

He nods. “I did.” 

The air leaves your lungs so forcefully that you bend over, pressing your forehead to the tops of your hands. He pulls his hands from yours and you feel his touch, firm and reassuring, cupping your shoulders and rubbing his thumbs along them.

“We felt the same,” you echo into your shins. “You loved me.”

“Cherry,” he says above you, his voice like a plea. “I don’t understand why - when we… when I… I felt like once I forced you to look at it, it was too much. You ran.”

You sit with this for a minute, stunned and processing. His hands are back in yours, which you take as a good sign. 

“You thought… wait. You thought, after that night, that I knew how you felt, too?”

He nods. “I thought you knew,” he says, confusion still present in his tone. “I thought we both knew. I thought if it was out in the open, the glitch in the drift would be fixed.”

You wipe at your face, trying to breathe. “And instead,” you realize, “we couldn’t even connect, because I was still trying to hide it from you, and then you were hurt. I thought it was broken. I thought we really broke it forever.”

He looks at you in wonder. “That’s why you left,” he breathes, and you know he’s understanding this for the first time. “You thought we made the problem worse.”

It’s your turn to nod. “After we…I mean, I knew if I couldn’t hide it from you before that night, there was no chance I’d be able to hide it after. I kept you out in the first place because I… was afraid. I was afraid for you to see how much I loved you. It seemed… hopeless to keep trying.”

The words lay bloody between you, but his grip on your hands is strong, and you take another breath.

You push on, adding, “I was afraid it would be too much. I was afraid everything would change.”

Which it did, you think. He nods, like he hears this, like he agrees.

He releases you and leans back, blowing out a loud breath. “We’re so fucking stupid,” he says, and you splutter out a laugh.

“We really are.”

“I can’t believe we lost three years over that,” he says.

“I can’t believe you thought it was your fault that I left.”

“I can’t believe you left in the first place.”

This makes you smile, guilty. “That’s fair.”

You push yourself to stand; Seungcheol mirrors you, as if you’re already in the neural handshake, bodies working in tandem. 

“Cherry,” he says quietly, stepping closer. “It could never be too much. I love you. I’m crazy about you. I’m only me when I’m with you.”

You remember him, the night you’d slept together, telling you, don’t be afraid. He’d told you, after all, and you’d missed it entirely.

You close the distance between your bodies and kiss him hard. His arms circle your waist immediately, like they were waiting for you. He kisses you back hungrily. His mouth meets yours eagerly, his tongue stroking yours confidently before he shifts his attention to your jaw, your neck, then your mouth again. His hands don’t wander this time - instead he holds you so firmly it almost hurts, like he won’t let you move an inch, won’t let you out of his grasp ever again.

You cradle his face between your hands, let your teeth gently scrape along his bottom lip. “Cheol,” you whisper, then kiss him again. “You’re everything.” It’s what you should have said aloud the night you’d slept with him.

When the kiss breaks, he presses his lips to the top of your head and holds them there, melting around you a little. You give his middle a squeeze, revel in his heartbeat surrounding you like music.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I didn’t just say it.”

“Me too,” you tell him, holding him just a little tighter. “I should never have tried to hide it from you in the first place.”

He kisses your temple, and you hold each other, silently, each grappling with the time you’d wasted apart. 

You’re interrupted by a knock. You break apart, puzzled. You’re even more puzzled to see your Marshall at the door, and Seungkwan literally bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement.

“I’ve heard your drift is working again,” the Marshall says dryly. 

You look over your shoulder at Seungcheol, grinning. “Seems like it.”

“There’s a Cat-1 reading in the bay. I was about to alarm for Pretty Savage to drop, but Savage’s team insisted I give you the opportunity first. They can follow as backup. How do you feel?”

Seungcheol is at your side. He looks at you, his face open and raw. “Well?” he asks you. “Are you in, or are you out?”

“I’m in,” you tell him seriously. “I’m with you.”

You thrum with excitement as a tech team helps strap you into the drive-suits, and you can’t help but shoot Seungcheol a wild grin, your happiness alive and unbounded. 

You tell mission control - Nainsi, probably, just like the old days - “Ready and aligned.”

Mission Control - definitely Nainsi - responds, “Prepare for neural handshake.”

The artificial voice bounces around you - 3… 2… 1… neural handshake initiating…

Around you, the machines flicker busily. Neural handshake strong and holding. Now calibrating…

You’re crying, but you ignore it. You beam through tears, looking sideways at your co-pilot. His eyes dance as he smiles back at you. You want to unstrap yourself to the drivesuit and go kiss his dimples, the dimples you hadn’t seen in years. You resist the urge.

“Ready to drop?”  He looks sideways at you, sly. 

You scoff at him, your own grin cocky and sure, like you’re twenty again, like nothing had ever been broken between you. “Been ready. Let’s light ‘em up.”

– end

thank you so much for reading!!!!

stay tuned for more fics in this universe! Wylie and Chan will get their own fic written by @sailorrhansol, as will Woozi! I'm also planning a Vernon x Reader in this universe, too! Should be a fun time!!

[leoascendente]

PAC/ Intuitive messages IV 🔮

Hi my loves and welcome to this new PAC! This time we have the fourth edition of intuitive messages. As always, take a moment to check what pile calls you the most, you could have messages in more than one too. Take only what resonates and leave the rest 🩷

* Don't make life decitions based on a general reading online, use your discernment. Minors dni 🔞

For private readings click here

My blog in spanish here

All pics are from pinterest, credits to their owners

Pile 1/pile 2/pile 3

Pile 1:

🫧 You need to focus on your career and long term goals, things are changing and you need to be ready

🫧 There's a blonde woman around your age you must be careful of, she could be in your same work enviroment or friend group

🫧 An unexpected amount of money is going to land in your lap as a work of magic, buy yourself something you enjoy as a sing of gratitude

🫧 You have a lot of sexual energy, keep it healthy and for singles, use it wisely to manifest your true love

🫧 There's a secret admirer that is planning to approach you with a nice surprise, be open to receive

🫧 Don't worry about those who don't wish you well, you are protected and they are being watched by karma

🫧 A commitment is about to happen, it could be in love or in career, so take it as resonates but I feel it's more related to love and romance

🫧 You'll be more in tune with your spiritual nature, you'll understand better the signs from your guides in your daily life

🫧 Some complications could appear, keep grounded and trust that you are being guided, you'll overcome every obstacle with grace and divine protection

🫧 Your guides will communicate through numbers 1222 or 1212 to tell you that everything is going in your favor, foxes and the scent of flowers will be signs too. Angelic beings are very present in your life, you'll see references to them very often, especially cherubims

Pile 2

🎀 Mercury retrograde will be an amazing time for you, it will bring you unexpected good luck. Check your Mercury's natal placement to know what areas will be impacted positively

🎀 I see a trip or vacations of some kind, maybe it's just having more free time to relax and invest in yourself. It could also mean that something special will happen during the holidays

🎀 Money will be entering your life, if you were scared of not being able to pay debts just know that you'll receive the money you need

🎀 You'll get invited to a night out with friends or a celebration, accept that offer because you'll have an amazing time

🎀 A massive change is about to happen in your life, I think you can sense it too. Rest as much as you can and do things that keep you grounded

🎀 Good things will be happening as a Dharma for something good you did in the past, it's a reward from Universe

🎀 You could loose an important object but it will be a sign that you have overcome a major challenge and the worst is left behind

🎀 You'll receive a major piece of advice from an older woman, for some I see a passed loved one communicating through dreams

🎀 Change your daily routines, there's something about it that no longer works for you and needs to be reorganized. Also, rest more often, your health needs it

🎀 Your guides are showing me grapes, it could be a sign to eat them more often or a sign of material abundance. Dolphins will be signs of upcoming luck and sharks a sign of divine protection. For some I'm hearing to develop your connection with the sea or the water element

Pile 3:

💖 Love is in the air for you my dear! Get ready because you are about to enter into the relationship of your dreams

💖 All your problems are going to get solved, don't stress that much. Your guides announce a triumph over troubles so there's no need to worry

💖 You are on the right path, stop doubting yourself honey, you really need to work on self sabotage or negative thinking

💖 You are about to get invited to a very romantic date, someone is really in love with you and wants to show it 🤭

💖 You'll be getting extra money, your guides are telling you to don't hold too tight to it and simply use it with gratitude. You could have some messages in pile 1 too

💖 There's an spiritual lesson you'll be learning that will feel like a hug to your soul, something you've experienced is going to make sense after receiving this info

💖 Someone with prominent Sagittarius placement will be a benevolent force in your life. I'm also hearing something about the house sagitarius is in your natal chart too, it could be an area of luck

💖 Don't resist change, simply embrace it and remember that it is happening for you to achieve your greatest outcome

💖 Do things your own way, don't force yourself to fit into a label you don't resonate with. Also, doing things different doesnt mean being making them wrong, you are on your own path

💖 Your guides really want you to focus on your confidence and inner power because you have more than you what to acknowledge. Lions and elephants are your animals, 777 your sign that your manifestations are becoming real and you'll see rainbows as a sign of joy and love

[hees-mine]

Camboy - L. Heeseung pt.2

Pairing: heeseung X reader!

Warnings: smut, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, cursing, sex toys, lube.

Genre: 18+, camboy.

WC: 2k+ read full story below⬇️ yall asked and I delivered part two of “camboy” after a year 💀

You are bored scrolling on your phone when a notification drops down on your screen from your favorite streamer, and you tap it immediately.

It felt like Deja vu. He was literally live yesterday, but you weren’t complaining. You could watch him every day, every waking moment of your life, and never get tired.

The app opens, but instead of a live video being displayed like you anticipated, it directs you to private messages, and your face morphs into one of confusion.

Evan Lee: Couldn’t help myself ;)

The text has you re-reading it over and over again. Could it really be that Evan, your favorite streaming/camboy, was messaging you?

You must be dreaming. While your hands shake and your heart pounds, a little text bubble appears on the bottom left of your screen, making your heart beat even faster, if that’s possible.

A video then suddenly appears, with the little play button showing up as the white circle around it loads. Once it's finished, you immediately tap the video, and the sight shocks you, to say the least. You gasp, covering your mouth with your free hand, as quiet moans flow through your phone's speakers.

“Fuck” you hear Evan’s groans while he pumps his cock with the fleshlight you had bought him. He speeds up his pace grunting softly before pulling out of the toy just in time to catch his cum shot. “Shit, fuck yeah” his dick twitches on his stomach, his cum spurting onto his abdomen. “Mmm,” breathing heavily, he swallows till the last of his cum drops from his tip and pools on his tan skin. “Hope you enjoyed it as much as I did,” he laughs breathlessly, dipping his index finger in his cum and then gripping his length and stroking it a few times, spreading it around and coating his dick in the aftermath of his orgasm. Once his dick softens fully, he ends the video.

Blinking blankly at the screen, you finally uncover your mouth, the realization of what just happened hitting you like a truck.

Did he really just send that to you? Before you could even get your hopes up or feel special about receiving a video from him, you assumed he just sent that to all his paid subscribers.

But at least he used the gift you gave him, and you definitely enjoyed it as much as he did.

After pressing send on the video, he cleaned himself up a bit, leaving his phone open in case you replied.

He wore his bottoms, discarding the dirty wipes into his trash bin. “Hmm,” chewing on his lip, he stared at the screen, and there was still no reply. Maybe you were just busy and didn’t see it yet. He turned off his phone, tossing it to the side so he could go shower.

After his shower, he recorded some paid snippets and updated his followers on when his next live will be and what they can look forward to. He checked his phone after about three hours, scrolling through a few notifications. None of them were important, just a few app notifications. He opened the app, streamed, and checked his notifications out of hundreds. None of them were you.

Had you even seen it yet were you at work did you see it and not think anything of it? But you joined his lives and bought him what he assumed was a pretty expensive gift so you must have liked him enough to have your notifications turned on right?

Turning off his phone, he sets it down on his desk. He doesn’t know why he feels so nervous. He literally streamed himself jerking off to hundreds of people, so why was he so anxious about sending a personalized video to you?

After the fourth hour passed, his nerves started to get the best of him, and he messages you again.

Evan Lee: Did you enjoy it, baby?

He sends it before he can overthink that, too.

A reply comes from you quickly this time, which he’s so thankful for.

You: Very much, Evan. I’m sure everyone else did, too ;)

Everyone else? What did you mean by that? Did you show that video to someone else? What?

Evan Lee: What do you mean by everyone?

He decides to ask to clear up the confusion, hoping you didn’t send that video that was meant for you and only for you to someone else.

You: Your subscribers

You responded confused now as well.

Evan Lee: What do you mean? I didn’t send that to everyone, just you as a thank you for, you know, the gift since I liked it so much

His face heats up. He can’t believe he’s actually texting you like this right now. He never thought he’d be interested in one of his followers, but you just seemed to capture his attention even if he was just going by text only.

Yeah, you must be dreaming. Well, at least it was a good dream.

You: “I’m flattered.”

He shifts his attention from his computer now that he’s got you online.

Evan Lee: Good baby, so did you do anything to that video?”

You blushed reading his text.

You: I haven’t 🤭

Evan Lee: Aww baby, you’re making me sad :(

You: Sorry

You reply, not sure what to say.

Evan Lee: I didn’t know you could resist my charm 😏

Truthfully speaking, you couldn’t.

Evan Lee: Since I made myself feel good, why don’t you do the same? After all, I made that video just for you.

Biting on his bottom lip, he sends a risky texts, awaiting your answer.

You: Are you sure?

Evan Lee: Positive baby, go ahead and touch yourself to my video

You: Now?😳

Evan Lee: Of course, sweetheart, why wait?

You: I don’t know

You nervously replied, still at a loss for words. You didn’t even know how this was happening.

Evan Lee: I’ll be here when you come back 😉

You left it at that, your heart racing in your chest as you scroll up and see the video. Your thumb hovers over it as you contemplate playing it without thinking about it too much. You press the play button, his moans filling your ears once again, and you get immersed in the video in seconds. The way he impatiently bucked his hips up into the toy had you wondering what it’d feel like if he fucked into you like that, and you could already feel your body getting warm and your pussy tingling with excitement.

With his words in mind, you slowly slip your hand down to your crotch beneath your blankets, circling your clit to the thought of him.

Before you knew it, you were coming undone together with him at the same time he did in the video.

The video was only about a minute long, but that’s apparently all it took for you to cream around your fingers, your moans mixing with his as your thumb caressed your clit and your fingers pumped inside your dripping hole. “Yes, Evan,” moaning, you throw your head back, sighing in pleasure, and writhing on your bed in the aftermath.

You: Thank you, Evan

You sent attaching a short clip of you pushing your fingers in and out of your wet pulsing hole.

He opened the notification, and now it was his turn to gasp and cover his mouth. “Fuck” he groans, eyes rolling back in his head.

Evan Lee: so wet, baby. Looks like you really enjoyed yourself

You: I did Evan. came so fast, imaging my fingers were your cock instead

You reply boldly.

Evan Lee: you’d like that, huh? Feeling my cock deep inside that little wet pussy

You: Yes, Evan, so bad

Evan Lee: You have no idea, baby. I’d take care of you so well, but for now, that’s all you get 😉

You: evan :(

Evan Lee: Join my stream tonight, and I’ll put on a show for you. I’ll cum just for you. It can be our little secret.

Before you could reply, the live notification popped up a red circle appearing around his profile picture, indicating he is now live.

You tapped it immediately, joining the stream, a faint smile on your lips as his voice greeted all his viewers.

“Hi, everyone. Thanks for joining my stream,” he smiles, waving to the camera as more viewers start to come in. “I had a lot of fun last stream, and apparently, so did you all,” he teasingly smirks, reading through some comments. “Take off my shirt?” He asks with a chuckle. “But I’ve only been live for like two seconds.” A ding goes off on his computer, showing a payment of fifty dollars, along with a message saying, please take it off. “Only cause you said please,” he laughs softly, lifting the shirt over his head and tossing it to the side. “Happy?” He said, running his fingers through his hair and intentionally flexing his bicep while doing so, giving the camera an innocent look like he was unaware of the subtle tease. “It’s a bit cold now. I wish I had someone to warm me up.” he looks into the camera lens, running his hand down his chest and stopping at the waistband of his pants. “Maybe we could do something together to keep us both warm.”

He slips his hand inside his pants, rubbing over his soft cock giving the viewers what they want. “Would you all like that?” He bites on his lip, leaning back on his chair and spreading his legs, leaving little to the imagination of what he’s doing under his pants. “You’ve been waiting all day for this?” He asks, reading through more comments. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Another donation comes in, along with another message. “Take everything off. Wow, you’re all more impatient than last time,” he laughs, standing up and pulling his trousers down to his ankles before sitting back in his chair, lazily stroking his cock till it grows hard, truth be told, he was a little impatient, too. He couldn’t wait to cum for you. “No one even asked about my day just wanted to jump straight into huh?” He teased and couldn’t help but laugh at the comments now flooding in, asking him about his day. “You guys are so cute, but I’m only teasing, enough about my day. I only wanna focus on you.” he looks at the camera, hand working up and down his hard length. “Bet you’re tired and need to relax. Don’t worry. We can play together and relieve all your stress.” he bucks his hips into his palm at a slow rhythm, looking over comments. “Touch yourself with me,” he whispers.

“You look so perfect.” his eyes don’t fail to catch the comment you left, and immediately, he starts jerking off faster, his toes digging into the carpet beneath his feet. “Fuck, you think I’m perfect?” he bites his bottom lip. “You’re even more perfect.” he throws his head back, hissing as his pace increases, the sound of his fist coming down on his balls with each stroke echoing in his quiet room.

He swallows harshly, veins popping on his forearms as he squeezes his eyes shut. Seconds away from cumming, his hand slows down right when he’s on the brink. His body sinks back into his chair as he lets go of his cock, letting it slap across his abdomen. “Shit” he rests his head on his chair, eyes lidded with arousal.

“Why’d you stop?” You muttered to yourself, anticipating the visual of him cumming.

“You were close? So early?” Chuckling at the comments, he took a few deep breaths to compose himself. “What would the fun be in cumming so soon?” He replied. “We still have the night to ourselves” he takes hold of his cock again, still sensitive from denying his previous orgasm. “Don’t you want to play with me longer?” He says, swiping the precum off his tip and rubbing it on his cock.

The sounds of more donations come in while he’s busy grabbing the bottle of lube you bought for him. He had it on his desk and ready to go.

Popping the cap open, he holds it over his tip, dropping an exaggerated amount of it on, squeezing more and more out till it pools around his full balls. “Feels so good” he starts stroking his sticky cock. The sounds every time he rubs his cock are so loud and lewd.

You squeeze your legs together, wetness flowing from your hole as you watch him touch himself.

“Ahh fuck” The slick glide the lube provides for him feels so good, so wet and sticky he just knows you’d feel even better and wetter. He closed his eyes, the sounds of comments and donations drowning out as he imagined the video you sent him. You were so wet and creamy just for him. “Fuck baby, you feel so fucking good” he fists his cock continuously, your image playing behind his eyelids. “You like that, huh? Taking my big dick deep in that little dripping pussy?” More desperate comments follow, but he’s too busy to read. The only thing he’s concerned with is cumming for you. “You feel so good, so tight and fucking wet,” he groans, stroking his lube-coated shaft. “Fuck, I'm close cum with me, sweetheart. I want to cum together, shit,” he breathes out, his hand moving up and down at a rapid pace, his body covered in a thin layer of sweat and his brows furrowed in pleasure. “That’s it, baby, cream on my dick while I cum in your pretty little pussy fuck fuck fuck, I’m cumming” his body shudders as long white thick ropes of pearly cum flow from his tip, coating his hand and leaking down to his full balls. “Oh s-shit baby,” he relaxes back in his chair, succumbing to the pleasure the image of you seared in his brain as cums endlessly.

Breathing heavily, he finally comes to, a breathless chuckle, leaving his lips as he strokes himself through his high. “I came so much,” he says, playing with it, scooping it up and covering his shaft while pumping out the last little dribbles of cum. “I’m still so fucking hard.”

He huffs out a breath, using his clean hand to rub his fingers through his damp hair. “Well….. that was amazing. I hope you all feel as good as I do.”

A multitude of comments come in thanking him, telling him how much they enjoyed the live and to cum again. “As much as I’d like to, I’m a mess” he looks down between his legs there’s a mess of cum and lube.

“Don’t go”

“Please stay.”

The comments of people wanting him to stay on stream were endless, but he had something a little different in mind.

“Next time, I will, I promise. Sorry for the abrupt ending, but I really need to clean up,” he laughs. “Thank you all for coming and for all the donations. I’ll make it up to you all next time. I love you all, goodnight.”

With zero shame he ends the live and instantly goes to your guy's shared chats together, messaging you right away. “Did you like it sweetheart?”

Groaning at his abrupt ending you exit out of the app only to tap the notification from him once it appears.

You: Of course, I just wish I could watch you longer.

He holds his cock that’s still hard and pulsing rubbing it up and down. Just your reply was getting him going again.

Evan Lee: I’m sorry, baby, but I’m still so hard, and I just needed to see you. I was imagining your pretty little pussy the whole time, but that’s not enough. I need more of you. I feel like I’m going to explode.

He types out with shaky hands. He doesn’t know why you’re getting him to feel this way, but he can’t help himself. His body is hot to the touch, he’s dripping sweat, and his balls are full of cum, ready to be released for you and only you.

He’s so desperate he doesn’t even let you reply before he’s requesting a video call with you.

You don’t even get a chance to reply or comprehend what’s happening; all you know is that Evan is calling you, and you were not going to decline his request.

“Hi baby, thank god you answered,” he breathes heavily, pointing the camera straight between his legs. “I’m so hard for you,” he whines, bucking his hips up and fucking the air. “I want you so bad,” he whispers, too horny and out of it to make sense of what’s happening.

“Evan,” you whispered, and the sound went straight to his twitching dick.

“Fuck baby, what’s your name? I wanna moan it when I cum for you” he grabs his cock, jerking it steady, and your breath hitched.

“Y-y-n,” you stutter out at the sight of him. You wish you could feel his dick in every last one of your holes. You needed him just as bad; he had no idea the effects he had on you.

“Y/n fuck, This feels so good,” he moans, stroking his cock. “Do you like it, sweetheart, like when I rub it for you?” He pumps his cock, thrusting his hips wildly.

“Yes, Evan, wish I could rub it for you,” you moan, lowering your hand back into your shorts.

“Oh god,” he sighs. “Me too, y/n.” Whimpering, he squeezed his base tightly and jerked it up and down. “I wanna fuck your pretty pussy so bad, fuck!”

“Oh Evan, I want that to more than anything, wish I could feel your cock stretching out my little pussy” you whine.

“Shit, I’d open you up so good fuck you with this big dick. You’d like it rough, yeah? Want my cock fuckin into you nice and deep and so fucking rough.”

“Yes,” you mewled, rubbing through your wet folds and sticking your fingers deep in your pussy, clenching around your digits as your thumb tickled your clit.

His deep, heavy breaths filled your ears, and he could hear your little whines of pleasure. “Yeah, touch that little cunt for me. Finger that wet fucking hole. Imagine that was me screwing that little pussy, baby” he strains, his heart pumping wildly in his chest, and this was better than any stream session.

“Oh yes, Evan, it feels so good,” you reply while keeping your right hand busy between your legs.

“I know, baby, I know,” he moans. “Wish I could see you. Please let me see you, fuck” he pleads, so horny and out of it he really wants to blame his feral ness on the fact he hasn’t had any in a while, but he knows deep down there’s something about you that’s driving him to his breaking point he feels like he’s going to go crazy.

In your arousal-hazed brain, you turn on your camera showing him your fingers shoved deep in your pussy covered in your wetness.

“Holy fuck, sweetheart, you’re so fucking pretty. Your pussy is perfect. I wanna suck your fingers clean, eat you out and fuck you so good, so deep, till you're moaning my name.”

“I want that too, so bad, my fingers aren’t enough, need your dick stuffing me full, need all my holes filled by you” You pressed your head into your pillows, leaning back, the warmth of your upcoming orgasm covering you like a blanket.

“Y-yn, I can't help it. I’m gonna cum” his head feels dizzy as he fondles himself. His mind is blank, nothing but the idea of you and cumming for you.

“Me too. I need to feel your cum inside me want you to fuck me full,” you breathe out, lost in pleasure as much as him.

“Fuck, I’m gonna give it to you,” he moans softly, his load as big as last time, if not bigger, his cum sprayed all over his abdomen and fist. “Cream on my dick, sweetheart, let go,” his voice sends you spiraling down a never-ending hole of pleasure, and you cum seconds after him screaming his name in pure ecstasy.

“Evan,” you whine his name, both of you sinking back into the comfort of your own beds.

“Y/n,” the only thing either of you can see is the faint pulsating of each other's genitals, the aftermath of everything finally settling in.

Heavy breaths fill up your guy's speakers, and neither of you says a word for a solid minute.

“I- um, I’m sorry for calling so late. I just- you know?” He laughs shyly, turning off his camera.

“N-no, it’s okay. I, too, was, you know?” Following suit, you turn off your camera after him.

Chuckling, he nods even though you can’t see him, and he can’t see you.

“So…. I guess I’ll let you go now,” he hums.

“Y-yeah, I guess so. Umm, goodnight, Evan,” you say, a little reluctant.

“Wait, maybe if you’re not busy, we can call again, not like this but just normally,” he says awkwardly and stands up, grabbing the waist of his pants, pulling them up, and tucking his soft cock away.

“O-oh, okay, that’s fine by me.” You smile from ear to ear at the thought of having a call with him tomorrow. You literally couldn’t believe this was happening. It was like a dream come true, and much like you, he can’t help but smile on the other line.

“Okay, sweetheart, I’ll call you again tomorrow, promise.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” you say teasingly.

“Okay, goodnight, y/n. Thanks for tonight; I really enjoyed it,” he hums softly.

“I should be thanking you.” You both share a small laugh. You can hear the grogginess in his tone, and you’re sure he can hear it in yours as well. “Goodnight, Evan.”

“Bye, y/n,” he chirps, hanging up his phone, and he’s never been happier to be a camboy.

Link to my Patreon!

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed!

[wosohours]

commitment - leah williamson x reader

You always heard about “don’t date athletes” and “athletes are players," but of course when good advice comes your way, you ignore it.

It was a bit insane to think that you could start talking to the one girl who could not be bothered with being in a committed relationship. That gut feeling telling you “Don’t get too close”, “Don’t entertain her”, or “Don’t fall in too deep” but you once again ignored it.

Honestly, you could not help it. It was like a craving to be around Leah all the time. It almost felt like an obsession of wondering, “What is she doing?”, “Where is she?”, “Is she thinking about me?”

Constantly checking your phone to see if she messaged you. Looking at her social media every hour on the hour. You were in deep and you knew it would eventually lead to hurting yourself. Yet, being someone with the typical heart-eye delusions, the thoughts in the back of your mind kept saying, “She will change for you.”

Trying to distance yourself never worked because every time you were at a safe enough distance she kept pulling you right back in. Leah knew that she had some type of hold on you and constantly used that to her advantage.

Just last week she was barely texting and calling you back. You understood that she was not obligated to do so since you two were not officially together, but you were most definitely a little…maybe even a lot more than “just friends.” The dates, the romantic gestures, and the PDA all confirmed that but you could never understand her constant pushing and pulling.

Leah knows exactly how to make it up to you though. She texted three days ago saying how sorry she was not keeping in contact, how she misses you like crazy and how she planned a whole day for just the two of you. You were strong this time, wanting her to feel how she makes you feel by not texting back and declining her calls those three days. Yet one slip of weakness and here you are right back in her bed.

____________________

“I missed you so much you have no ideas.” Leah tells you as she feathers kisses all over your face as you both lay in bed naked.

“Oh really? I would not have guessed.” you said as you sat up from her chest and moved away from her a little. She froze looking at you with that cute frown that is usually stuck on her face and said, “Baby I told you I am truly sorry, I really mean it. I have just been a bit busier since the launch of my third book. You know this.”

Leah wraps an arm around your waist pulling you back down closer to her. “I am here now though, aren’t I?” You hesitantly relax into her and say, “I know but a simple text or any sort of reply would have been nice. I just missed you.” You can feel Leah smiling against your hairline after she lays a soft kiss there. “I missed you too babe.”

After a moment of you two just enjoying each other's company she says quietly, “How about we get up, you come shower with me, and then we can go out and get some breakfast?”

____________________

Once again the cycle repeats itself with Leah distancing herself. No longer answering calls or texts. Although it hurt, you thought it would be best to leave things the way they were to protect your peace, even pushing yourself to be petty enough to block her number. It was almost like you were putting her up to the test to see how far she would go to get your attention.

Although she did swipe up on one of your Instagram stories of you in a tight shirt with no bra saying, “I’ve seen it, now delete it,” but you ignored that as well.

____________________

Since being friends with Leah for many years you have grown closer with some of the Arsenal girls and with them loving your company, a couple of them have asked you to join them in celebrating the end of their USA tour at a local pub. People are either mingling by the bar, doing karaoke, or sitting around the reserved private table in the back.

Currently, you are at the bar getting a drink and you can feel Leah’s eyes burning into the back of your skull.

“What’s going on with you two? You have been more grumpy than usual,” Katie teases Leah as she sits in the empty seat next to her. “She's ignoring me,” Leah sighs, still looking at you.

“What have you done this time?” Alessia asks from across the table. “I’ve been kind of avoiding her again. I don’t mean to but I don’t know what I’m doing.” Leah replies.

“Have you tried talking to her about how you feel? Do you actually want to have a serious relationship with her?” Katie asks.

“No, I haven't talked to her. Every time I try to talk about us my mouth goes dry and all of a sudden I can’t think, and of course, I want something serious with her I’m just nervous,” Leah shakes her head and looks down at her fidgeting fingers.

Lia, who has been listening to the conversation from her seat next to Alessia, speaks up, “Well you might need to tell her soon because the bartender is flirting with her heavily.”

This causes Leah’s head to shoot up in your direction and sees the bartender smiling at you and reaching her hand over to rest on your forearm. “Yeah, not happening.” Leah quickly stands up from her seat and pushes past people to make her way over to you.

When she gets to you she gently wraps an arm around your waist not to startle you and pulls you back into her chest. She gives her glare that she usually saves for the pitch to the bartender, making her quickly release your arm and turn her attention to another customer waiting at the other end of the bar.

Leah smiles when you relax into her and she whispers in your ear, “You’ve been avoiding me.” You slowly turn around until you are face to face with her and say. “Hurts doesn’t it?”

“I deserve that. Why don’t we go have a chat and I will explain myself?” Leah says, moving her hand to grab yours. “Really? You want to talk now and here?” you scoff.

Leah just nods and gently pulls your hand so that you follow her out to the back patio of the pub. She sits on a bench that is a little bit away from the loud building and pulls your hand down to sit next to her.

“You know you shouldn’t just flirt with anyone, she could've just been charming you into being her next one nightstand,” she says.

“Hmm, pot meets kettle huh? You would know,” you scoff pulling your hand away from hers.

“No, I wouldn’t, because we are more than that,” she firmly replies.

“It sure doesn’t feel like it sometimes.”

“I know,” she sighs, focusing on her shoes, “but I can explain.”

You look at her and slightly nod your head giving her the indication to keep talking.

“I love everything about us. I love how we are with each other. How easy it is to be around you and the connection that we have. I’m just scared of the reality of us being together because it seems too good to be true,” she confesses. “Don’t get me wrong I do want to be with you and I am serious about you but there is this nagging feeling in my head that I am going to screw it all up.”

You grab her hands gently and say, “That’s completely understandable Leah, I wish you would have communicated with me about how you felt earlier. However, you can’t make future assumptions about something you or we haven’t even tried yet. Neither of us has any idea of what could happen but it doesn’t mean push away and hide from it.”

You continue, “You are looking too far into the future when you should be focusing on right now. That self-sabotaging brain of yours is going to stall you for great things one day.” you giggle pushing her head away making her laugh too.

After the giggles die down she says, “You are completely right. If you allow me to give this…us another try I am willing to put my all into it. I just ask that you give me that reassurance.”

“I can give you that, but you have to promise to communicate with me.” you nod raising your hand to move a piece of hair out of her face.

“I promise to communicate my feelings to you,” she replies leaning into your hand.

You smile and stand up from the bench pulling her up with you to give her a hug resting your head against hers. Leah pulls back a bit to give you a few quick pecks on the lips causing you to giggle and move away.

“My girl,” she whispers, pulling you back against her and laying one last kiss on the side of your head.

____________________

Since that day Leah has kept her promise of communicating more and you have kept yours by reassuring her when she needed it. She even asked you to officially be with her a couple weeks later and it had felt as though something shifted in the air.

She was constantly texting, calling, and wanting to be attached to your hip. When you too were with each other in person she would constantly cling to you but you were okay with it since that is what you were wanting from the beginning.

[lovelettersfromluna]

Compass

Summary: I’ve got something to confess, I keep you in my pocket to use. You’re my only compass, I might get lost with you.

an: let’s ignore the fact that I’ve been gone for a long time, yeah? Hehe. this most definitely is not the fic that I’ve been working on literally the entire time I’ve been gone (that’s coming don’t worry), but I got this idea at 2 in the morning and I had to jump on it IMMEDIATELY. Hope you all like it mwah mwah love you.

Warnings: SMUT!! Minors please for the love of everything that is good, do not interact, modern day vampire!Ellie, semi graphic descriptions of blood and wounds, shy!reader, Ellie bites you a lot, Ellie feeds on you and honestly it’s borderline soft core porn, fingering Ellie!receiving, grinding, mentions of bruises, Ellie is extremely fucking strong, Ellie watches you in your sleep/can get into your apartment without a key, let me know if I’ve missed anything!!

You aren’t really sure how you and Ellie became friends.

Well, you are, maybe a better question would be why you two became friends. You were both so different, you were convinced the first time you met that she hated you. The night filled with quick glances as she damn near avoided speaking to you like you were the fucking plague. It took you a bit to not take it too personally, reminding yourself that you weren’t for everyone, and that was okay! So what if the mutual friend didn’t like you…it wasn’t the end of the world.

So, it came to a surprise to you when a few nights after meeting Ellie passed, you had not one, not two, but three of your friends texting you and asking you if it was okay if they gave her your number…

Because she’d asked for it.

And suddenly you’re texting each other every day, and well into the wee hours of the night. You know, like one of those friendships. The ones that makes you smile every time you see their name pop up on your phone, or the ones where you send each other stupid videos on TikTok all day just to talk about them on a different messaging platform, because of course you’re interacting with each other every where that you have a presence.

Ellie becomes your best friend before you even realize it, and it makes you realize that maybe she didn’t dislike you as much as you thought before.

It always did confuse you a bit in the beginning how you two got along so well. You were both so different from one another. Ellie was a party animal, you were a home body. Ellie was up late at night, you were up early in the morning. If Ellie was the moon, then you were the sun. Polar opposites coming together to find a home in one another, the most unusual pairing stuck by the hip from that point on.

You of course, kept all each other’s secrets. You’d learned very early on that no one really knew much about Ellie, which you simply chalked up to her being a private person. However, she seemed eager to tell you any and everything about her. Like her dad, she’d talk about him all the time, you figured on early on that she really loved him. Or whenever she had a a new fling going, you’d be the first to know of course. She’d even told you about the time she threw away her dad’s playboy magazine after stealing it from him, which she swore she’d never told a soul.

She wanted to know all about you too! Your favorite color, favorite animal, childhood crush, family relationships. Truthfully? If you weren’t so oblivious, you would’ve seen a long time ago that Ellie was the slightest bit obsessed with you.

But you loved her, and you trusted her with your life, so you told her everything! Because you didn’t keep things from each other.

So, on a night out with everyone else, Ellie disappears, and of course you try to look for her, asking around only to be told that everyone saw her leave. Going outside to make sure she’s okay is the only logical thing to do, right? You have to make sure she’s okay.

What you don’t expect though, is when you look down a dark alleyway a few buildings down from the club you’re at, and spot the tall figure of your friend tucked into the brick wall of the dark corner, shielding way whatever it is that’s behind her. You call out for her, and when she turns around you gasp.

Because her eyes were red, and not red like you haven’t gotten any sleep, or you’ve been crying, the green of her eyes are now red, bloodshot red, and she’s holding a lifeless body in her tattooed arms…and there’s blood covering her pink lips, dripping down her chin.

Yeah, Ellie was a vampire.

You let out a gentle yawn as your hand went down to grab the remote control to your tv, your other hand coming up to rub your eyes a bit, a sorry attempt at trying to wake yourself up enough to get from the couch to go to your bed.

You pouted softly, lazily bringing your phone up to check the time before you sighed, finally finding the strength in you to push yourself up off the couch to leave your living room.

Work had been absolutely plowing you into the ground, your publicist constantly hounding you to keep working on the most recent installment of your book series. It was just so fucking hard, everytime you sat down in front of your computer, it was like writing your own book was the last thing you wanted to do.

It was draining you, and it felt like every time you finished a set of chapters, your brain was complete mush.

The upside though, was that it tired you out enough to completely knock out once you were in bed.

A gentle sigh left your lips once your head hit your soft pillow, plush blankets wrapping around your body, sliding down your bare legs and making you feel absolutely blissful. You couldn’t even stop yourself from the soft smile on your lips as your eyes grey heavy, the low lighting in your room making you feel all the more cozy, all the more warm.

You were out in seconds, soft snores leaving your sleeping body as you entered a world of dreams, escaping reality for a few measly hours before you were bombarded with the real world around you in the morning.

Ellie was on the other side of town, or at least, leaving the other side of town. It was late, and while she did love to be a creature of the night, there was something that sounded much more inviting than a glass of whiskey and a cigarette.

You, of course.

You were Ellie’s kryptonite, the single thing in this entire fucked up world that convinced her there was something worth living for, in her case, existing for. You were so fucking good, so sweet, so forgiving of literally everything. There were too many times that Ellie recalled where she wasn’t even sure you were real, perhaps another mythical creature much like herself, sent to this world to lure others into a trap that was just as filthy and terrible as the rest of the world.

But you weren’t…there were never any cons or secrets that you held, and if you did hold any secrets, you were more than willing to let Ellie in on them. No…no you were different.

God were you different.

Ellie recalls the night she first laid eyes on you like it was yesterday, her cold, dead heart jolting back to life for only a second when she saw you, at least that’s what it felt like. Your smile radiant in the dim, multicolored lights of the club, cheeks shining, eyes twinkling, like an angel sent from above. Ellie almost felt like a being as evil, and sour as she wasn’t worthy of being in the same room as you.

And god…your fucking smell.

Ellie could go on about it for hours. Sure, you were remarkable without it, but it was just the icing on the cake, the twisting of the knife in her chest.

She has mastered the art of walking into a room filled with warm bodies pumped full of blood and while ago, her throat burning with the urge to sink her teeth into her next poor victim. It was easy, annoying, but easy, and she couldn’t really remember the last time she struggled being around anyone, especially friends, or even friends of a friend.

But the second she saw you, your sweet, dulcet smell wafting against her nose, she was transported back in time. Back to a time where she was but a young vampire, clueless of the world around her, of her new life, adapting to something she didn’t even know existed before all of this, without a single guide or a fucking pamphlet for gods sakes.

It made her eyes widen, and she stopped breathing instantly to try and dull the scent of you sneaking into her nostrils and down into her eager throat. She noticed the way you pouted and sighed whenever she’d ignore you, or give her nothing but a brief response whenever you tried to get to know her. She could tell this wasn’t your thing, the night life, partying, you were here because someone asked it of you, and you being the good friend you are would never let anyone you cared about down.

Despite Ellie being a total dick to you because she simply couldn’t control herself around you, you sucked it up, carried on and stayed until everyone else decided to leave.

Watching you leave that night, made Ellie realize you weren’t something she could pass up.

Asking for your number was probably the best thing Ellie had ever done in her immortal life. Speaking to you was far better than thinking about you constantly, and after she’d convinced herself she wouldn’t do anything stupid with you, she was finally ready to introduce herself to you, the right way.

It’s how she constantly found herself like this, searching for your warm embrace around her cold, dead body every time she found the opportunity. She’d come to you when she was done working, she’d come to you when the girls at the bar were boring her, she’d even come to you when she simply knew you were home and she had nothing to do.

Ellie hummed softly as she looked up at your apartment building, the warm summer breeze wafting against her skin as she stared up at your window, the white curtains blowing out with the wind. She sighs to herself.

“Told you to stop leaving your window open…” she mumbles softly to herself.

The human eye wouldn’t ever be able to catch the way Ellie climbs up the side of your building, her arms and legs scaling it like a pro, making it look as simple as walking, or even breathing. It’s too fast, and in the blink of an eye, she’s at your balcony, long fingers pulling back your curtains to get a look at your sleeping figure.

She watches as your chest rises and falls, your blanket covering your sleeping frame, bare legs kicked out from under them, shining under the moonlight. She isn’t sure how long she stays there at your window staring at you, watching in awe as you do something as simple as sleep.

It isn’t until you shift slightly in your sleep, a dreamy sigh leaving your lips, that Ellie finally pushes her long legs over your window to step into your room, sneaker clad feet pressing onto the wooden floor of your bedroom.

She looks around for a moment, taking a deep inhale as she lets your scent wash over her for a moment, eyes fluttering shut as she simply lets you consume her, fill her up and make her feel whole again.

Make her feel alive again.

You never really understood it, why Ellie lingered when she hugged you, face pressed at the nape of your neck, swaying you slowly as she clung to you longer than normal. Well…you did know, at least you’d find out later on when Ellie finally explained everything to you…what she was, how it happened.

Although, it was only half what you thought. Sure, the smell of your blood made Ellie’s mouth water, her nostrils flare and her throat burn, but it was so much more than that. You made her feel whole, and even if it were a few seconds, she was going to make the most of it every time she got the chance.

And that’s what she felt when she was in your little room. The cool breeze filling up the space, the dim lights casting a warm glow over you because you couldn’t sleep in the dark. You used the excuse of creating an ambiance for yourself when you slept, but Ellie knew you far better than that. It was like you’d perfected the feeling of comfort, bottled it up and sprayed it around your room every other day.

The wind blowing your curtains a bit harder caught Ellie’s attention, and she sighed softly as she walked over to it and shut it. She had told you time and time again to quit it, warning you about the weirdos that would love to take advantage of a pretty girl with her window open while in the most vulnerable state.

Even though the only weirdo that ever snuck into your room through said window, was Ellie. If anything, your little habit only fueled Ellie’s addiction for you further.

The sound of your window closing makes you groan softly in your sleep, and at that sound, Ellie knows she’s done it.

While she wanted nothing more than for you to be awake when she came over, she hated waking you. You looked so fucking serene when you slept, and Ellie felt like the devil himself whenever she accidentally ripped you away from that, even if the only thing she wanted was for you to be awake and talking to her.

Your body twists and turns a bit, slowly finding its way out of the drowsy state of sleep you were in. You let out a gentle yawn before one of your hands come up to rub your eyes, moments before you turn to your side to face her, hand resting between your cheek and your pillow as your eyes open and focus on the tall frame standing in front of your bed.

Ellie is convinced nothing scares you, because for as long as she’d been doing this, sneaking into your bedroom and watching you sleep, on the rare occasion that you wake up and catch her, you never seem scared. You don’t gasp or scream, you don’t even flinch when you see the dark, looming presence stood there in front of you. Ellie was sure the first time you caught her there, that you’d scream in horror before calling the police on her.

But you never did. You always stared at her with a sleepy smile, eyes puffy with sleep, lips a bit swollen, looking at her as if she were your favorite person in the entire world.

And like all those nights before, you do the same. A gentle yawn falls from your lips as you rub your eyes once more before tugging your blanket further up your shoulder.

“Ellie…” you sigh out softly, and you sound so fucking dreamy, so beautiful does her name sound falling from her lips. It makes Ellie weak in the knees.

She walks over to you slowly, smiling softly down at you as she grows closer and closer to your bed until she’s standing over you, one of her hands coming down and running around your blanket clad shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Wanted to come visit…sorry I woke you” she hums soft, her hand traveling up until it reaches your face, one of her fingers caressing your cheek ever so slightly. Your eyes flutter shut at this, and she can see that the gesture alone is nearly enough to lull you back to sleep.

“S’okay…I wake up in the middle of the night all the time…you know that” you assure her, words falling with yet another yawn before you open your sleepy eyes up again to stare up at her.

Before she can even speak though, your content expression is replaced with one of worry as you finally get the chance to focus on her face, your eyebrows furrowing as you prop yourself up on your elbow, your other hand reaching up to touch her cheek as you become more and more alert with each passing moment.

“Are you okay Ellie? You look…why are your eyes so…” you mumble, now on your knees to reach her better, your face in front of hers as your eyes search hers.

She looked pale, paler than usual. Her lips were chapped, eyes dull and sunken in, she looked like she hadn’t slept in centuries, like all the life had been sucked out of her. And while that technically was the case, Ellie often looked vibrant for her dead state, eyes sharp and alert, green eyes almost fluorescent with color when you looked into them.

Immediately, you know what was wrong.

“When’s the last time you…had something to eat?” You ask sternly, eyebrows furrowed and a firm frown on your pouty lips.

That was another thing…Ellie hadn’t properly fed in about two weeks, going on three now.

She let out a gentle sigh, her hands resting on your hips as your own rested on her cheeks, cupping her face and forcing her to look into your eyes even though she avoided eye contact.

She hated when you saw her this way, so weak, so small. She liked it when she was the best version of herself, the version that was well fed, agile and strong. Not like this, not like when she was turning into a shell of the woman she once was.

“I…it’s just been a few nights, angel…it’s no big deal” she tries, giving your hips a firm squeeze as she attempts to convince you that she was fine. However her appearance and her voice is a dead giveaway that she’s lying, the sound hoarse and scratchy, sounding as if she’d been clawing at her throat for days to ease the pain she felt.

“You can’t lie to me, Ellie. You look horrible” you scold the girl.

She lets out a sigh, and she almost feels ashamed of herself. Sure, there were times where a meal was a bit harder to come by, people becoming a bit more aware of the danger that lingered when she was near, but god, Ellie couldn’t remember a time where it was this bad. It was like every single time she got someone in her arms, trapped in her little scheme, something cock blocked her entirely from finishing the deed.

And the more times that happened, the weaker she got.

“I’ve just been really unlucky…okay? Most of us do this in packs or with a fucking partner at least…it gets tricky when you’re on your own” she finally admitted, a gentle sigh falling from her lips as she leaned down to rest her head against your shoulder, pressing her weight against you in the process, as it was slowly becoming unbearable to hold it up herself at this point.

“M’just going through a thing right now, baby…don’t worry about it” she mumbled against you, lips ghosting over your soft skin as she again tried to assure you she’d been fine.

Ellie had always made it a point to never get as low as this, and if she did, she made it a point to never let you see her. What would her sweet best friend think of her if the monster she truly was had the chance to shine through? How would you ever allow her in your presence again once you finally realized how disgusting she truly was?

What Ellie didn’t know, is that you didn’t think any of those things. You could never find her to be a monster or disgusting, you adored her far too much to ever see her that way. No, what you did think when you saw her that way, were any of the things you could do to help her. That was the only thing you wanted, to help her.

You don’t even think twice before you say it, giving yourself a moment to mull over the idea and weigh out the pros and cons before it’s escaping the confides of your mind and making its debut out into your bedroom.

“Feed on me” you blurt out, so quickly you aren’t even sure Ellie fully catches it properly.

But she does, Ellie hears every word, every syllable, she can even hear the way your heart beat quickens after you’ve said it.

She’s slowly lifting her head from your shoulder, eyebrows furrowed and lips frowning as she stares down at you, your eyes wide and hopeful, hopeful that she’ll take the offer, that she’ll allow you to give yourself to her for the sake of her wellbeing.

“No.” She deadpans without a second thought. She doesn’t even give herself a second to indulge in the idea of it, knowing how badly it could end, how terrible it could be with one wrong move, or one gulp too much. Ellie knows that this is nothing to toy with, especially with you.

You’re quickly shaking your head once she rejects your offer, your hands falling from her face to rest down on her shoulders, leaning in a bit to press your body closer to hers.

“Ellie…look at yourself. How were you even able to climb up here?” You plead with the girl, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze before you inhale deeply.

“I’m giving you permission…I want you to do this” your words almost come out like a beg, wanting nothing more than to simply help the girl, to help a friend in need that clearly needed it.

And you knew deep down, that no matter what, Ellie would never hurt you.

Ellie knew it too. She knew that she wouldn’t go too far to take your life away from you. She had been around long enough to have the self control to stop whenever she knew you’d had too much.

However, that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be hard.

She inhaled deeply, giving your hips a gentle squeeze before she finally brought her own eyes up to look into yours. Her pink tongue darted out to run along her lips, wetting the chapped skin before she let out a gentle sigh.

“You’ll tell me when it becomes too much…right?” She asks, desperate for confirmation from you that you won’t let her go too far, even if she wanted to.

You give her a bright smile, a gentle giggle leaving your lips as you nod. “I will…now go on…sooner you do this, the sooner I can sleep” you tease her playfully, which makes her groan softly with a pout.

She sighed softly, reaching forward and pushing your hair to the side to expose the soft, supple skin of your neck. Her eyes zeroed in on it, and she could practically see your pulse from beneath your skin, making her shudder at the thought of it. She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your throat, which earns a gentle sigh from you.

“This’ll hurt…” she mumbles against you, peppering your skin with gentle kisses. You simply tilt your head further to the side, resting your temple against her shoulder as your arms hang loosely around her neck, your body pressed against hers.

“Mm…I’ll be okay” you mumble out sleepily, your fingers coming up to toy with the hair at the nape of her neck.

Ellie can feel the way your pulse slows under her lips, and she has to stop herself from groaning due to how fucking strong your smell was right now with your body pressed against hers. She knew that the longer the stood her, mouthing away at your neck instead of actually feeding, she’d just keep you from getting back to the rest that she had interrupted in the first place.

It was now or never.

She sighed softly, swallowing thickly before she opened her mouth a bit wider, fangs protruding out from her gums and taking their rightful place. She let them graze your skin, the sharp teeth sure to leave scratches from something as small as a graze, before she finally latched her lips to your throat, and sunk her teeth into your flesh.

Now…Ellie had her fair share of tasty meals within her immortal life time. There were maybe a handful of people that left a faint memory in her head, better than most of the others she’d fed on in her past, so she was no stranger to a warm body with a nice taste.

But you? God….there was nothing in this world that could’ve prepared Ellie for how fucking…divine you taste. It was like liquid gold on her tongue, the smell that had plagued her mind from the moment she met you a mere tease to the real deal. It made Ellie moan against you, her eyes fluttering shut as her tattooed hands clawed at your waist, gripping the skin so tightly she was sure to leave bruises, pressing you flush against her body.

She could practically feel the essence of your life filling her up and bringing all of her strength back, replacing the once empty, dull feeling in her body with one that could only be described as rejuvenation. The taste you gave her flowing into her mouth and making her feel like she’d died and gone to heaven.

The noises you made only aided Ellie in her blissful state, tiny moans and huffs leaving your lips as you continued massaging her scalp with gentle fingers, allowing her to take whatever she needed from you.

Ellie knew she could’ve drained you, taken every last drop of your life and left you dry. She could do it ten times over if it were an option, however it wasn’t, and she knew at the back of her head she could only take what she needed, and nothing more. So she knew once your grip around her neck loosened a bit, that she needed to stop.

She unlatched from your neck breathlessly, your crimson blood painting her plush lips, red eyes blown out wide as she eyed the damage she’d done to your poor neck, the punctures filling Ellie’s chest with a sense of pride as some of your blood and her saliva dripped down the base of your throat. She leaned in, licking you clean before pressing a gentle kiss to the wound, groaning softly as when she heard you hum softly.

“All…finished?” You mumbled out with a dreamy smile on your lips, eyes half lidded as you stared up at the girl who had just nearly sucked you dry.

Ellie stared down at you with a look of disbelief, the back of her hand coming up and wiping her lips. “You said you’d tell me to stop…” she groaned softly as she gently set you down to lay back on your bed.

You let out a soft yawn, nodding as you tugged your blanket up with a weak hand to drape over your body. “I was…you stopped sooner than anticipated” you giggled out sleepily before you eyed the girl from your bed, already feeling the drowsy affects of sleep taking over.

“You look better already, El…” your compliment made her dead heart swell. She could feel it too, your life coursing through her veins and bringing back all of the good aspects of being immortal, the strength, the radiance, all of it brought back because of you.

She chuckled softly at your words, walking over to your closet and grabbing your first aid kit, fishing a little band aid out before walking back towards you. She sat at the edge of the bed, her pointer and middle finger pushing your jaw up slightly to get a look at the wound she’d given you.

“Here…so you don’t get blood on your pillow” she explains as she pressed the bandaid to your neck. You simply hum in response, and Ellie knows you’re probably already asleep. Between being tired before all of this, and losing blood, she expected for you to be out like a light long before she bid you a goodnight.

She stays a bit longer after you’ve fallen asleep, her long limbs crawling over your body to lay in bed with you, marveling at the way the color returned to your body, the way your chest rose and fell slowly, the way your lips would part with a gentle sigh ever so often. She’d let her hands caress your skin, watching as goosebumps appeared to trail after them. She simply appreciated how human you were, how warm and responsive you were even during sleep.

She leaves once the sun begins to peak above the horizon, knowing you’d want your privacy when you woke up in a few hours. She makes sure to close your window after she’s left too, scaling down the building much quicker than she did when she first arrived.

And while she walks home, the sun slowly casting a warm glow onto the city she lived in, she knew that she’d made a mistake by feeding on you.

Because now? She was completely and utterly ruined for anyone else that she’d feed on after you.

Bloodlust

The word had entirely different meaning for those like Ellie, creatures of the night that fed on the essence of life, the scarlet, metallic liquid that flowed and pumped throughout the bodies of the living.

She had heard of it happening to other vampires, in an instance of finding the human being that acted as a drug to them, making it hard to function without their taste on their tongues. It was an occasion that only ever happened when there was a mutual agreement between a vampire and a human, a hunter/prey proposition that acted in a more…ethical way.

It consumed the one feeding, making it hard to function without the person near, almost creating an inseparable bond between the two, paired with a constant line of food with it as well. It took over nearly everything, mind, body, soul, all of it belonging to the person they fed on, the human often times having more control over the vampire.

Ellie never really believed in it, instead viewing blood as something that was of and in itself, the same all the time. Sure, there were some people that tasted better than others, but blood was blood, no matter who the person was, they were more or less all the same at the end of the day. A meal was a meal, and that was that.

So if that was true, why were you the only thing on Ellie’s mind every waking second after the night she fed on you?

You were always on Ellie’s mind before it all, lingering at the back, making her smile when she thought of something silly you’d said to her earlier in the week, face beaming whenever you’d send a text her way, so it wasn’t out of the ordinary that you were on her mind.

She thought of it constantly, the way you were so…so fucking eager for her, a sense of intimacy lingering in the air of an act so selfless. Your pouty lips parted as you moaned and sighed her name, her lips attached to your neck as you gave her everything. Feeding was always something that felt the slightest bit romantic, the closeness of it all.

But you…doing it with you was different than anything she’d ever experienced.

She knew it meant nothing to you, she knew that it was simply you being a good friend, which meant it was borderline wrong for her to take it any way other than what it was, but she couldn’t help herself. She could still taste you on her tongue when she got home, plopping down into her bed and staring up at the ceiling in her dark room as she felt her core tighten and flutter as she referenced back to the memory.

Ellie couldn’t help herself when she unbuttoned her jeans, slipped her hands down to cup her pussy, and caught her aching clit against her calloused fingers to give it some much needed attention.

And she moaned your name as if it were the only word in her vocabulary, blubbering and crying out for you as she angrily fucked her aching pussy, eyebrows furrowed to the point where she almost looked upset.

“F-fuck….that’s my fucking girl…that’s it…gonna cum all over your pretty fuckin’ face” she groaned out, picturing you settled between her legs, eagerly lapping at her weeping core, grinding down onto your face and giving you everything she had, much like you did when you allowed her to feed on you.

She’d cum with your name falling from her lips, back arching as her hips rolled against her palm, sopping wet cunt painting her slick all over her hand, making it hard to even keep it where she needed it with how wet she was, how fucking riled up you had her.

And she’d do it again, lying in her bed and thinking of the memory over and over again, hanging on to the sound of your voice sighing out her name, moaning for her as she licked her lips, searching for the taste of your blood still soaked on them. All while you were sound asleep in your apartment where she left you.

If Ellie thought she was drawn to you before, she was sorely mistaken. Because now? All she could do was crave you. It interrupted her day to day, made her brain foggy when she wasn’t with you or talking to you.

And soon? It became a habit.

Ellie was at your door every other night, long fingers searching for your hips to pull you closer as she pressed her face into your neck, tongue slipping out of her mouth to run along the now permanent marks on your neck, whispering in your ear about how badly she needed you.

It had become a bit of a routine, Ellie would come over, you’d let her feed on you until she saw fit, she’d go home and fuck herself, and then she would live in her own personal hell for the next few days that she wasn’t able to see you.

It’s how she found herself dragging her body down the hallway to your apartment, a heavy hand coming up to the door and giving it a firm knock.

When you answer, Ellie thinks you look like a dream. Your body is leaned up against the door, head resting against it as you give her a dreamy smile, oversized t-shirt hanging off of one of your shoulders, sleep shorts barely visible beneath the end of the shirt, hugging your ass so perfectly, your white socks bunched up at your ankles.

She has to bite back the moan that threatens to escape when she lays eyes on you.

“Mm…hi Ellie” your voice sounds like the sweetest melody, and she’s smiling sheepishly as she walks towards you, bending her knees a bit as she wraps her arms around your waist, pulling you flush against her tall frame, nearly light you up off the ground completely.

“There she is…” she sighed against you, and it sounds like Ellie can finally breath, like the weight holding her back from breathing in the air she so desperately needed has finally been granted to her, it makes you giggle softly.

You wrap your arms around her neck, humming softly as your fingers come up to tangle in her hair, simultaneously pulling her into your apartment. She kicks the door closed behind her, arms still wrapping you up and keeping you close.

She keeps you close, her head coming up to take a look at the set up you have going in that she’s walked in to. She can tell you’ve been working on your book, your laptop set on your couch paired with your favorite blanket, and a mug set on your coffee table that was still steaming.

“Working on the book?” She asked softly, you nod as you turn around in your arms, and excited smile on your face as you walk over to your spot, clicking the keypad a few times before you shut it.

“Yup. I’m getting pretty far….was wrapping it up right before you came over” you practically beamed.

Ellie always found it so endearing how dedicated you were to your work, and rightfully so, Ellie reminded you time and time again that she’d lived through many eras of famous writers, but you always topped them ten times over and then some. She’d never let you forget the talent you had was rare.

You plopped down on your couch after sliding your laptop into its little compartment under your coffee table, your legs coming up to cross over each other as you pat the spot next to you eagerly, to which she easily obliged of course.

Her old denim jacket rustled a bit as she sat down, resting her back against your couch as she slouched down a bit, legs spread as she stares up at you through the dim, cozy lighting of your living room.

You giggle softly, resting your cheek against your palm as you look down at her. “What are you staring at? You’re looking at me like I’m something to eat…” your words trail off, eyes narrowing at the girl playfully before you sit up, crossing your arms.

“Did you come all the way here to get a free meal out of me, Williams?” Your tone is accusing, but playful, and it makes Ellie chuckle as she bring her tattooed hands up to rub up and down her face before she groans.

“When you say it like that it sounds bad….I see it as seeing my favorite person with something extra added into it…” she defends herself before chuckling, looking back at you as she tugs her bottom lip into her mouth, sucking gently on the plump skin, letting her mind linger to imagine it was your lips she was sucking on instead as her eyes slowly zeroed in on them, similar to if she were under a spell.

“You know you don’t have to if you don’t want to…” she mumbled out softly, voice gentle and truthful.

It was true, Ellie would cut all of this out the second you made even the slightest signal that you were tired of it, or if your body simply couldn’t handle it anymore. She knew that she’d never use you as her personal blood bag. The minute you wanted out, you got it, no questions asked.

You give her a gentle smile though, shaking your head as you shifted your body a bit so that it was now laying down on the end of the couch opposite of Ellie, your head resting against one of the plush pillows you had next to you while you were writing. You spread your legs a bit, making space for Ellie to crawl into before you stretched your arms out for her, a silent call for the girl to come closer.

“I’ll always give it to you, El…you know that. Come…” you call her again with a slight flick of your wrist.

Your words make Ellie’s head swirl, all of it sounding, and feeling, much too similar to something else, something more than just a friend helping another friend out. It sounds like you’re giving something else to her, something she’d dreamt of taking from you from the moment she laid eyes on you.

But she can’t indulge in that, not now, not when you’re being so kind.

She chokes back a groan, the girl slowly crawling over your body, similar to a predator creeping over its prey. Her body consuming yours as she pressed either one of her palms into the plush couch near your head, staring into your eyes as she settled between your warm thighs, the plush skin pressing against a sliver of her hips that was exposed at the top of her jeans. The feeling of her body pressed against your warm cunt, the only thing separating the two of you being the think material of your shorts, drove Ellie to the brink of insanity.

She hummed softly, her eyes trailing down your every feature, taking you in, eating you up for a moment before she grabbed your chin, tilting your head up and away to give her better access to the little area of your throat that had now become hers and only hers.

Soon, she’s leaning down, her body pressed against yours as she peppers kisses along your jaw until she reaches your throat, licking at the two little wounds that were in the shape of her fangs before she sighed against your skin, finally giving in and letting her protruding fangs sink into your skin.

You’d always been comfortable around Ellie, never shying away from her touch whenever she’d grab you whenever you were out together, or letting her easily pull you into her lap whenever you watched movies or played video games together, intimate touches never being out of the ordinary in your relationship.

But now, ever since you and her had started…whatever it was that you’d been doing, you had seemed to cross a boundary that was once put up. What was once little sighs and huffs, turned into full on moans whenever Ellie would press her body against yours and take what she wanted. You’d grip her hair, keeping her close as you moaned and whined out her name, breathless begs for her to keep going.

“Fuck…Ellie…” you moaned out for her, your eyes fluttering shut as your fingers laced into her brown hair, keeping her close as her hands moved from either sides of your head to instead grip your body. Your hips were her favorite, holding onto the plush skin and keeping you close, massaging and kneading you as she pleased, a small piece of her wanting to bruise you up, just so she knew she was able to leave marks on you other than your neck.

It egged her on further, your calls for her making her swipe her tongue over the wound before she continued sucking your sweet essence from your body. Ellie wasn’t sure if you were fond of it at first, but now? With how you reacted? She was sure you enjoyed it, if even a little bit.

She became so drunk off of you, her mind clouded with the intense flavor of your blood, nearly choking on it with how quickly she drank sometimes. One of her hands left your hips, sliding down until she gripped your thigh, pulling it up and closer to wrap around her body, massaging the soft skin as she let one of her legs slip over your other one, so that her thigh was slotted against your cunt, and yours against hers.

Ellie didn’t even realize it at first, but she slowly began to grind into you, letting her thigh rub against your barely clothed pussy as she drank from you, her senses completely overwhelmed with just how fucking good you tasted, how good you felt. She felt her mind and body buzz with electricity when she pressed her chest against yours, and she could feel your nipples hardening through the thin material of your shirt, pressing against her own chest.

“Mm…h-hah…Ellie..I….Ellie please…” you begged, and Ellie was able to hear the way your voice was slowly going, growing more and more hoarse with every moan, every pant.

She was taking too much, and she wasn’t sure if she was begging for you to stop, or to keep going.

Ellie groaned loudly against you, prying her lips away from your dulcet neck, panting loudly as she pulled away further to look down at you, letting herself get a good look at the mess she’d made of you.

Your lips were swollen, eyes growing heavy, skin getting dull. Your hair was messy, and your shirt was pulled down further, revealing more of your shoulder and collar bones, while the bottom was pushed up to show more of your stomach.

It was like a dream and a nightmare all at once.

You blinked a few times as you tried catching your breath, staring up at Ellie as one of your hands came up to cup her cheek gently.

“A-all better?” You stuttered out, giving her that notorious dreamy smile of yours, the one that made Ellie feel like she was the only person in the world that got to see it.

She’s drained you, and yet you were asking if she felt better.

Ellie held back a groan, her large hand wrapping around your wrist before she brought your hand down to press a kiss to your palm, giving you a gentle nod before she inhaled deeply to control the emotions that threatened to escape while she saw you this way.

“Always when I’m with you baby” she chuckled out sadly.

The smile you give Ellie nearly has her in tears, because you look so genuinely happy, so content with the fact that you’ve helped her, that you’ve made Ellie feel better, even if it’s at the expensive of your own comfort.

At the expensive of your own life.

“I’m glad…” you hummed out softly before you yawned, clearly tired out from what Ellie had done to you. It makes Ellie frown, and she’s quickly pushing herself off of you before she scoops you up into her arms to carry you off to your bedroom.

Soon, she has you tucked into bed, your eyes closing almost as soon as your head hits the pillow, and Ellie has your blankets pulled up over your arms. It’s almost mind blowing how quickly you fall asleep, it makes Ellie feel a bit jealous, because she can’t remember a time where she was that comfortable in a bed to fall asleep so fast.

She watches you, of course. Sticking around for a few hours after you’ve slept, keeping an eye on you to make sure your chest continues to rise and fall slowly. She knows it would never go that far, but she always gets nervous after feeding.

Tonight was also different, and it was eating away at her because she knew there wasn’t really a right or wrong way to go about cleaning about it, or comforting you about how wrong this was, and how much Ellie had been draining you. Even the fact that you expected it of her when she came over left a bitter taste in her mouth, one that replaced the sweet one that usually lingered on her tongue after she had a taste of you.

And as she watched you sleep, so peaceful and so serene, Ellie began to think of any way this would blossom into something more. How would this carry on? She would continue sucking from you until you died one day? She’d come to you like a thief in the knight well after you had a family? Children to look after? Your life moving on while she stayed in an immortal purgatory? One where she continued the cycle of coming to you for a quick bite to eat? Paired with a warm body to lay on top of for the time being?

There was no way it could surpass this. You being her friend, helping her in a way not many could. Ellie knew, that deep down, the life she wanted with you was not one that was easy to come by, something that she wouldn’t dare ask of you. From the moment she saw you, she wanted more. Because that’s what she did, she took, and took, and took until there was nothing left to take, and it was slowly happening with you.

But Ellie loved you too fucking much to take until you were nothing but a shriveled up peace of what you used to be.

So, she took one long last look at you and she left your window. Because that night, she promised herself that she was finished. The life she wanted with you unfortunately wasn’t written in the stars for her, and she knew that from the moment she saw you.

Ellie was letting you go, because she knew it she didn’t.

She’d just end up killing you.

[crashandlivewrites]

I Need Your Discipline

My participation in @glitterypirateduck's SoapItUp event! I was initially gunning for Captain MacTavish but it wasn't coming together. Maybe I can get a second one out before the deadline.

Pairing: Soap x fem!reader

Summary: Soap 'accidentally' sends you a dick pic. You decide to teach him how to take nicer photos. Using prompt 29: "Was this your plan the entire time?"

CW: MDNI 18+ content, NSFW, cunnilingus, fingering (f receiving), unsolicited dick pic, consensual sending of nudes, coming in underwear

Word Count: 3.6k (it really got away from me whoops)

Captain Price had your attention all the way up until your phone buzzed in your pocket. Frowning, you took it out. You hadn’t been expecting a message from anyone and usually during meetings, you flicked it to only allow messages from fellow army personnel. Maybe you’d forgotten this time. 

One glance at the screen told you that Soap had messaged, which wasn’t surprising. He often got bored and liked to pick jokes during Price’s long debriefs. However, when you snuck a glance at him, he wasn’t paying any attention to you like he usually would be while waiting for a reaction. Frowning, you opened his message. 

It was his dick. Holy shit, Soap had sent you a picture of his penis. Suppressing a snort and shutting off your phone, you jerked your head up in confusion, trying to catch his attention, but he was acting completely engrossed with your Captain’s words. Sure, he’d always been light-hearted and playful, rubbing shoulders flirtatiously and throwing an arm around you any chance he got, but you’d also seen him out at the pub when he was actually trying to get in someone’s pants. And it had never seemed that way when he was taking to you, as much as you wanted it. Until now. 

Glancing back down at the message, you realised there was another message after it. 

> Just got back. Ready to hit pound town?

This time, you only just managed to cover your snort with a cough, earning the briefest of glances from Kyle sitting to your right. Quickly, you type a reply. 

&lt; Not the welcome home present I was expecting from you, MacTavish

Soap reached into his pocket a few moments later, pulling out his phone with a smirk on his face to read the message. His face then morphed into confusion before his eyes visibly widened and snapped up to meet yours. Raising your eyebrows, you tilted your head questioningly at him. His fingers flew over the keys. 

> Fuck. That wasn’t for ye. I’m really fucking sorry

&lt; Ouch. Nice to know I’m not good enough for your dick pics 

> Shoulda told me ye were feelin left out. Coulda sent one to ye earlier. Would that make ye feel better? 

&lt; Nah. Received too many dick pics in my time. There are nicer ways to take nudes 

Soap lifted his head, brow creasing and lips pouting as though insulted at your statement. You grinned back at him, shrugging as you waited for him to reply. 

> My dick is pretty, thanks. Plenty of girls have liked it 

&lt; Didn’t say that. Just saying there’s nicer ways to take hot pics than just a straight up dick shot 

> Oh yeah? Like what?

Biting your lip, you wondered if you really wanted to do this. You watch Price momentarily as you thought through the pros and cons of sending your teammate a nude of your own. 

Pro: you’re sending a hot picture of yourself to the guy you’ve been crushing on

Con: he may not be interested in you

Pro: if things go south, you also have his dick pic to hold ransom

Con: he’s less likely to be embarrassed by his dick getting passed around base. Especially when it looked like THAT.

You could feel his eyes boring into the side of your head, waiting for your response. sucking in a deep breath, you scroll through your private photos, selecting one of your favourites. The picture accentuated your body as you were leaning against a wall wearing a pretty thong with one hand draped across your chest to squeeze your tits together and cover them over the middle. Grinning to yourself, you sent it to him. 

You knew he’d received the image when a choked off cough sounded from his side of the room. Glancing over, you could see Ghost thump him over the back as Soap sheepishly held up a bottle of water. 

“Sorry. Down the wrong pipe.” He wheezed; cheeks tinged pink as he met your eyes before returning to his phone. 

> What the fuck

> Warn a man before ye send shite like that

> Is that really you?

> Fuck me I ken ye were bonnie but darlin

> Ye got me bricked rn

A warm rush of arousal surged through you, knowing that one little photo had sent him into a spiral. Smirking, and refusing to meet his heavy gaze, you focused on Price for the remainder of the meeting, ignoring the fact your phone was buzzing incessantly. 

When Price finally dismissed the team, you didn’t even have time to push yourself up before the loud scrape of Soap’s chair filled the room and he marched over to you, nudging you out the door. His grip was like a vice on your arm as he steers you until he found an empty hallway. He pushed your back against the wall. 

“We gonna talk about what that was?” He holds up his phone and waves it in your face. Shrugging, you leaned back against the wall, arms folding across your chest. 

“You sent it first. Was just showing you what a good picture looks like.” 

“My pictures look nice.” His tone was indignant as he frowned, glancing down the hall to check no one was coming towards you.  

“Sure, because you’re decently attractive. That’s the only reason they’re passable.” 

“Decently attractive…” He huffs, looking haughty as he crossed his arms. 

“Why did you find my photo hot?” 

“I never said that.” Clearing your throat dramatically, you pulled out your phone and began to read in a mockery of his accent. 

“What the fuck? Warn a man before you send shite like that. Is that really you—”

“Haud yer wheesht! Fine, it was fucking hot.” 

“Why was it hot, MacTavish?” He chewed the inside of his cheek and glanced at the floor as he rocked back on his heels. 

“It was… sexy, without showing too much. Teasing and… fucking shite- fine! It made me want tae come over there and rip yer bloody kit off.” The corners of your lip twitched upwards, and you couldn’t fight the smirk that spread across your face. 

“You wanna see another?” 

The way his face lit up was almost comedic, before he frowned again. 

“Yer fucking having me on, aren’t ye?” He scowled. 

Pushing yourself off the wall, you slid your hands into your pockets, tilting your head as you stared at him coaxingly. He met your gaze, eyes squinting as he seemingly tried to read your expression before he sighed, head dipping for a moment before lifting back up again. 

“I’d like fer ye tae send me another.” He asked begrudgingly, fingers toying with his phone. “Please.”

Biting your lip to prevent him from seeing your sly grin, you picked out another. This one was taken from over your shoulder, the curve of your ass framed by a pretty black thong. His phone buzzed and his attention immediately snapped to it before he groaned. 

“Steamin’ hell, yer… shite, I cannae do this here.” He growls, eyes flashing dark with lust as they looked up at you. Blinking at him innocently only made his lip curl. “What’re ye playing at, darlin’?” 

“Just showing you how to really rile someone up.” 

“I’ll show ye riled up in a mo—”

“Would you like me to teach you, John?” You queried, seeing the interest immediately perk in his eyes. He paused in mid stride towards you, lips pursing. 

“Ye wanna teach me how tae take photos like that? I appreciate the effort, hen, but I’m not as bonnie as ye are. Ain’t got the tits fer that.”

“You got tits aplenty, MacTavish. Look at them.” Reaching out, you squeeze his pecs with a teasing grin, and he bats your hand away playfully. “You’re hot, Johnny. Lemme just help you… accentuate it.”

“Yer boostin mah ego there, lass.” He titters, eyes sharp as they trail down your body. “Ye sure yer willing?” 

“You sure you’re happy to miss out on your booty call for an impromptu photo shoot with your teammate?” You snark back, stepped forward to meet him halfway, boots tapping against his. Soap chuckled, finger tracing along your jaw as he leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. 

“After ye sent me these?” He scoffs, waving his phone in front of your face. “I’ve got all the time in the world fer ye.” The look on his face was smug as he leaned back. Your face matched his as you gripped the front of his shirt. 

“Come with me then.”

As you shut your door behind you, you turned around to see Soap already tugging off his uniform. 

“Why are you taking your clothes off already?” You growled at him; eyes sharp as you shook your head. Soap’s brows furrowed, halfway between shrugging his shirt off. 

“Are we not takin’ nudes?” He asked bluntly, head tilting to the side. Letting out a breathy laugh, you locked your door and walked over to him, ruffling his mohawk causing him to squawk in protest. 

“Nudes aren’t just about being naked, idiot.” 

“Aye, they are. Is that not the whole point?” Rolling your eyes, you push him into a chair and wheel him in front of a mirror and standing behind him. 

“When you take photos of yourself at the gym— don’t lie, I know you do.” You frowned down at him as he opened his mouth, about to process. “When you take photos of yourself at the gym, what do you look for?” 

His face pinched in thought. “Making myself look good, I guess.” He shrugged. “Gettin’ my good angles.” 

“Taking nudes is much the same. You’re a fit guy. Work your body into the shots too.” 

“Aye, but I’m still fully clothed.” He points out, raising his brow as he looks at you in the mirror. Clicking your tongue, you leaned down, hands sliding down his firm chest as you plucked open his buttons, one by one. 

“It’s the uniform, MacTavish. Use it.” You purred into his ear, pressing a kiss to the shell of it. He groaned softly; eyes fluttering closed as his breathing deepened. “See?” You pushed open his shirt revealing his toned chest. His eyes were fixed on you in the mirror, watching your every move with focused intent. 

“Now lean back slightly, spread your legs, roll your sleeves up, and tuck your thumb into your belt.” He did as you said, and you helped adjust the final touches, ruffling his hair once more before stepping out of sight. “Now take a few. You can change positions a little. Feel yourself, you know? Take what looks good.” 

You let him sit there for a few minutes, watching him closely as you leaned against the wall out of shot, feeling your body react to him. He was a natural taking pictures, adjusting his positioning slightly as he got into the feel of it. Finally, when he was satisfied, he turned his head to look at you, seeking your approval. Smiling, you stepped towards him, cupping his head as he blinked up at you expectantly. Resting your chin on his shoulder, he flicked through the photos for you. 

“Look at you. Don’t you look hot?” 

“Ye really think so?” His voice was soft as he turned his head slightly towards you. His long lashes cast slightly shadows over his cheeks, and you found yourself drawn into him. Blinking and breaking the trance, you didn’t answer, instead choosing to chuckle and raise your brow, standing back up. 

“Shirt off, next. Belt too but leave your pants on.” Soap nodded under your instruction, face flushing pink as he quickly rid himself of the items you’d specified, leaving him in his combat boots and pants. “Same kinda thing. Move around, pose. Flex a little. Especially your forearms and hands.” 

Again, you stepped back, this time admiring him more closely as he got more comfortable, turning around and playing with different angles. Your eyes drifted along the lines of back, tracing down his body as you felt the tension building in the room. 

Stepping forward, you came in behind him, hands sliding down his sides until you got to the buttons of his pants, undoing them with practiced ease. His cock pulsed with interest, and you could feel him thickening as you slid your hand down his front, rewarded with a soft groan. 

“Fuckin’ hell, hen. Ye’ve nae idea what ye do tae me.” 

“I have somewhat of a feeling.” You grinned over his shoulder, tucking his boxer briefs down so the base of his cock was evident in the mirror. “Take a picture of that.” You whispered, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades before stepping back once more. 

Soap cursed, head turning to look at you with longing as you stepped back, but you pointed to the mirror, and he diligently turned. His hand slid down the toned planes of his body, thumb hooking in the waistband of his underwear and tugging them down to expose the thick base of his cock, hair trimmed, but on the longer side. 

Instead of looking at the camera, or at himself in the mirror, his eyes were on you, heady and lustful. The corners of your lips twitched upwards, and you began to slowly remove your own clothing until you were in nothing but your bra and underwear. Swearing under his breath, Soap roamed every inch of your exposed body, palm pressing into his groin as his hips jutted forwards. 

“Ye gonna fuckin’ ruin me, doll.” 

“Take off your pants and get on the bed, MacTavish.” 

“Aye, ma’am.” He said, eagerly moving to kick off his boots and pants before rolling onto the bed. Eagerly following behind him, you shuffled up the bed on your knees, straddling his thighs as your hands slid up to cup his semi-hard erection. 

“See how we’re not even naked and you’re already swelling in your boxers?” He groaned, head tipping back against the headboard as your hand pressed against him, working him up to full hardness. 

“It’s all you, hen. Fuck yer makin’ me ache.” He whined, eyebrows tilting upwards as he pleaded for more. Shaking your head, you took your hands off him to unclasp your bra and throw it aside. 

“One more. Want you to hold your cock and press it up against the fabric, so we can see the outline of the head.” 

He swore again but did as you asked. Gripping his cock tightly, he slapped it a few times against his leg as he stared at your breasts, swallowing thickly before turning his attention to the camera and taking a few shots. But it didn’t last long. 

Releasing his cock and throwing his phone aside, Soap wrapped his arms around you, flipping you over on the bed. As you lay sprawled, slightly surprised by the sudden change in position, Soap loomed above you, smirk evident on his face. 

“Yer in fer it now, dollie. Been teasin’ me this whole time. Getting tae touch me like that, tell me how to hold my own damn cock. Nah… I’m gonna touch you now.” He purred, eyes predatory as his hands squeezed your tits, thumbs flicking over your nipples, making you moan softly, arching your back. 

Soap titters, sliding further down your body to push your legs apart and settle himself between them. Humming to himself, he ran a finger down your covered centre, circling your clit lightly before prodding at your soaked entrance. 

“All this just from seein’ me take a few pics?” His eyes were gleaming in excitement as he hooked a finger underneath the material of your thong and pulled it aside. “Jesus, hen… ye look like a god damn dream.” 

Perching yourself up onto your elbows, you looked down at him between your legs, watching his expression as he tugged your underwear to the side and lowered his mouth to blow air over the wet, sensitive skin. 

“What’s this? Cannae stand a wee bit of teasing, bonnie lass?” You whined at his cocky tone, lifting your hips up slightly and he cooed, sliding your underwear down your legs and tossing it onto his pants. “I’m keeping that, just so you know.” 

Before you even had the chance to protest, his hands ran up the backs of your legs, spreading them out and holding them down as he sucked kissed along your inner thighs, nipping slightly as he went. 

“John…” Rolling your hips, you gripped the sheets in frustration. “Stop being an ass and put your mouth on me.” 

“God, yer pure gaggin’ fer it, ain’t ye?” His grin was feral as he dragged the lip of his tongue ever so lightly against the hood of your clit. “Admit this was what ye wanted as soon as ye got that snap of my cock.” 

In the dizzy haze of arousal, his words sparked something, and you stared down at him, eyes narrowed. 

“Was this your plan all along? Was there ever another girl you were meant to send that photo to?” He shrugged, lapping at your cunt and making your toes curl with pleasure as he chuckled against you, the vibrations sending shivers through your body. 

“That’s my secret tae ken, dollie. ‘Sides, ye really gonna complain when it’s yer bed I’m in and yer legs I’m between?” His smug expression made you want to bite back some sarcastic reply, but you just couldn’t find the words. “Didnae think so.” 

His mouth lowered onto your throbbing cunt, one hand moving to spread you open so his tongue could press in, tasting you. He groaned deeply, fingers digging into your leg as the thumb on his other hand flicked over your clit. His hips ground into the bed as he did so, making him moan again. 

Pulling back, you could see the sticky wetness of your arousal already covering his bottom lip and chin. As if he could tell where you were looking, he stuck out his tongue and dragged it along his lower lip, grinning as he watched you. 

“Cannae believe ye been holdin’ out on me. Could sit here between these legs and eat this cunt out for hours. Tastes so fucking good.” He dove back in, wrapping his lips and sucking on your clit as his fingers pressed into you. 

You gasped at the stretch, back arching off the bed as his fingers began to move, scissoring and spreading your cunt wider for him. He continued to suck your clit, tongue dragging over it as you cried out, gripping the sheets tightly as your pussy clenched around his fingers. 

“Fuck— Johnny please. God, you’re so fucking good.” You moaned breathlessly, panting as sweat beaded on your forehead. Soap let out a rumbling laugh as he kept his face pressed into your cunt, desperately trying to bring you over the edge. 

Lifting your head to look at him, you saw his hips driving desperately into the bed where the sheets had bundled up underneath his crotch. You managed to find your voice. 

“I taste that good huh? You gonna come just from eating me out?” He nodded eagerly, fingers curling and pumping into you with renewed intensity, heat curling viciously in your gut. 

“So fucking good. So fucking good fer me.” He mumbled; eyes boring into yours. “Please… I’m so fucking close. Need you tae come fer me, aye?” 

You nodded, panting, watching him as he focused his attention solely on you, humming softly as you felt your cunt throb with intense need, the feeling in your belly growing. 

“Johnny— oh fuck, please. Please!” Your legs twitched as your hips hitched upward and, with a cry of his name, you let yourself go, pussy spasming around his fingers as he groaned into your cunt, happily lapping at your juices as you climaxed. 

As you calmed down, body sagging into the bed, you looked down at Soap who was resting his head against your thigh, eyes glazed as he grinned up at you smugly. 

“Enjoy yerself there?” 

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it too.” You bit back, wiping your brow as you grinned lazily down at him. “I can see the mess in your underwear.” 

Soap simply shrugged, rolling onto his back to remove his underwear, wiping the remnants of his cum from his dick before sliding himself up the bed to settle next to you. 

“I said ye tasted fucking divine.” 

“Shut up, Johnny.” You pushed him slightly and he laughed, wrapping his arm around you. 

“We should keep this going.” He murmurs softly, glancing up at you. Blinking in surprise, you look over at him. 

“Thought you didn’t do relationships, MacTavish.” You warned, mostly for your own sake. He simply shrugged. 

“Wouldnae mind having ye ‘round to take some more photos with.” He said simply, nestling into the crook of your neck. “And I wouldnae mind eating that cunt every mornin’.” 

You rolled your eyes, but threaded your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly as he cuddled in close. 

“So those pictures we took are going to waste then, since you’re keeping me around?” You tease, poking his nose. He sniffs. 

“Gonna send them tae you instead. Make ye think about naught but my steamin’ hot body every meeting.” 

You smacked him over the head as you laughed, shaking your head at him. 

“Price’ll kill you if he finds out.” 

“Worth it.” He mumbles once more, squeezing you closer as he pressed a kiss to the base of your neck. 

[themultifanshipper]

Oscar had blabbed. That’s the only explanation you could come up with at the moment, given the position you found yourself in, kneeling at your friends’ feet.

It’s 4am, leave me alone. Inspired by these pics

Warnings: blowjobs, sex, threesome, one mention of yolo, and if you don’t like cum, probably don’t read this, it’s filthy (literally), PinV sex at the end

Alex and Logan had been eyeing you up all week. At first, they seemed to be glancing in your direction constantly, head movements catching your attention, but as soon as you’d look back at them they would avert their eyes. Then you noticed that they were staring at you for longer periods of time from across the room, seemingly unaware of what they were doing until they’d snap out of it on their own. But yesterday, that was when you saw their gazes shift into something else. Before they ranged from blank to vaguely curious, but yesterday, they looked hungry. It sent a shiver down your spine the first time. Now you just found it downright confusing, wondering what could have possessed them to start looking at you that way.

That night you were at your best pal Oscar’s place in Monaco, having just given him a congratulatory blowjob for his performance in the race (Oscar always said you were the best he’d ever known at giving head), and you decided to tell him.

“You know, Alex and Logan have been acting real weird lately” you called from the bathroom.

“Yeah? In what way?” he replied, in bed scrolling on his phone.

“Well… at first they just started staring at me, I think unconsciously, but now they’ve started looking at me like they want to eat me or something. ”

‘Shit!’ he thought. You couldn’t see him, but his eyes widened and he immediately started typing out a message to the boys: "what the fuck guys? Stop staring at her it’s weirding her out!"

“What do you mean?” he asked you, managing to keep his voice level.

“I don’t know… like- I’ve only ever seen that look when someone wants to rail me, you know? But it can’t be that, right?” You came out of the bathroom and Oscar turned his phone off a little too quickly, which confused you, but you were too tired to question it at that moment as you crawled into bed and snuggled up to him.

“Nah probably not, maybe you’re imagining things?” he tried, you didn’t bite.

“Absolutely not. We’re flying with them tomorrow, then you can see for yourself.”

The next morning when you woke up, you saw that you’d been added to a three way group chat with the two Williams drivers. You had two messages:

Alex: ‘We need to talk to you, privately”

Logan: ‘It’s nothing too serious tho dw <3’

‘Thank god for Logan’ you thought. Unbeknownst to you, they had been bickering all morning about how to broach the subject.

You would all be meeting at Nice airport to get a jet together so you didn’t have to wait too long for answers.

The four of you were alone on the jet, and when Logan got up to go to the bathroom, you glanced at him and he motioned for you to follow him.

'Okay, here we go' you thought nervously.

He closed the door behind you and you stared at him waiting for him to speak first, but he just stood there fidgeting nervously so you broke the silence.

"So what did you need to talk to me about?"

The room was relatively cramped so you were rather close, closer than you were used to, and you were able to count the freckles that dusted his face as you waited for an answer.

Instead of doing so however, he surged forward and kissed you. Which was confusing, but to be fair you weren’t going to start asking questions, as his lips were softly trailing over your jaw, making you let out a shaky breath.

“I’ve been thinking about this all week” he mumbled into your neck.

Before you even had time to form a response, the door slid open and there stood Alex, with a massive smirk on his face at the sight of you two.

“Started without me Logan? Bastard.”

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, as you stood there, half pressed against the sink by Logan’s hips, and very confused at was on earth was going on.

Alex came and pressed a light kiss to your temple before tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Are you okay with this?”

You nodded, not even sure what ‘this’ was but, yolo, as the kids say.

So he plastered his body to your side and turned your head to kiss you, as Logan started trailing downwards, taking the waistband of your joggers with him. He gasped loudly as he very quickly realized you hadn’t put any underwear on underneath. You glanced down and raised an eyebrow at him.

“What? I travel comfy!”

Logan didn’t even hear you as he was already trailing kisses all over your thighs, lifting one of them and hooking it over his shoulder. His fingers spread you as he licked a broad stripe from your perineum to your clit, making you shudder in anticipation.

Alex’s hand on your jaw brought your mouth back to his, and his other hand snuck under your top to play with your breasts, making you keen under his touch.

One of your hands was in Logan’s hair as he lapped up your juices, getting his face soaked in the process, the other was making its way into Alex’s pants to grab hold of his cock, which had been hard ever since he saw you get up to follow Logan to the bathroom.

Your movements were uncoordinated as you were getting closer to orgasm on Logan’s tongue (and fingers that had since joined the party), and when you came, Alex had to put his hand over your mouth to muffle the loud moans that threatened to spill from you.

Logan stood up, a fucked out expression on his face, and licked his lips before grabbing Alex by the hair and crashing their lips together, Alex groaning into his mouth at the taste of you on his tongue.

You took their distraction as an opportunity to get down on your knees and unbuckle Logan’s pants, immediately getting his cock out and licking a long stripe form base to tip.

That made him shudder and he moaned into Alex’s mouth, the two of them still going at it, so you took him deeper and deeper, alternating expertly between breathing through your nose and swallowing, and you took Alex out of his pants to start stroking him at the same pace.

It eventually got too intense for poor Logan as he grabbed your hair and pulled you off him.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come too fast if you keep going like that.”

Alex grinned at him, then down at you. “You really are the best then, yeah?”

Your brain didn’t even register the implications behind that statement as you took Alex into your mouth, down to the base in one go, as if to say ‘see for yourself’.

You alternated between the two of them, getting them to the edge before pulling off to breath properly before switching. At some point they had started kissing again, groaning into each other’s mouths and running their hands through each other’s hair.

Then, without warning, the door opened and there stood Oscar, smug as anything.

“Well well well, what’s all this then?”

The image of George briefly flashed in your collective minds.

You pulled off with an obscene pop and looked up at the other two boys.

What sight the three of you made, you on the floor with tears running down your cheeks, Alex and Logan flushed and messy, hair sticking up and looking fucked out, with their cocks out.

That’s when it all clicked. The looks, Oscar’s avoidance, this whole mess in the bathroom.

Oscar must have blabbed about your activities to them.

You turned to the man in question.

“Did you plan this?!”

He laughed. “No one could have planned this. But I did mention to them how good you are for me, and I’m certainly enjoying the show. Do carry on, that looks painful.” he said, gesturing to where Alex and Logan were still hard, and leaking all over themselves. You looked at them in disbelief.

“Are you enjoying this? Being watched by your best friend while you’re getting sucked off?”

They had the audacity to look bashful, and it also kind of did it for you. So you slowly took Logan back into your mouth and Alex in your hand and they groaned in unison. You savoured every second of it, even the sound of Oscar’s breath hitching as he inevitably started touching himself in time with your pace, made you wet.

As the three men got closer, their noises got louder and Alex asked “Where?”

Oscar answered for you. “If you ask nicely she’ll let you come anywhere you want”

The two others groaned and quickly rushed out “Can I come on your tits?” and “On your face, please?”

You nodded at them, and they started jerked off hard and fast, aiming at your face and breasts as you closed your eyes and stuck your tongue out. Alex came a couple of seconds before Logan, painting your face in streaks of white, most of it landing on your tongue, then you felt another load land on your chest as Logan whined out his orgasm.

As Logan caught his breath, Alex pulled you to your feet and kissed you sweetly as a thank you, before he leaned down and started working his tongue over where Logan’s cum streaked your skin, making you gasp. Then Logan came closer and started licking Alex’s cum off your face. It was hands down the weirdest situation you’d ever been in, but it was hot as fuck. That was made obvious by how Oscar groaned behind you, still working over his cock at a leisurely pace.

“What a sight you three make. If Lando were here he would cream his pants…”

You huffed “I’m sure he would, but you’re certainly not going to tell him about this, right?”

His eyes twinkled “We’re meeting him for lunch tomorrow in Montreal.”

The other two finished cleaning you up and got you (and themselves) dressed again, kissed you one last time, Logan giving you a quick tap on the ass, before leaving you and Oscar alone.

“You mind getting on your knees one last time for me, baby?”

“Anything for you, Osc” You smiled, but before you could move, he grabbed your arm.

“Actually… I want to make you feel good too.” He glanced at the mirror. “Stand in front of the sink, hands on the mirror.”

You obliged, planting yourself firmly before he pulled down your pants, already having noticed your lack of underwear earlier, and pushed a couple of fingers into you.

“God, baby, you’re dripping.”

“I know that, just get your dick in me!”

He chuckled and lined himself up, bottoming out in one go.

“Fuck- so warm and tight, just for me” he groaned and kissed your neck before grabbing your hips tight, and pounding into you.

The angle made it so that he hit your g spot on every thrust, getting you close to the edge in record time, your loud moans spurring him on to go harder.

You came together, panting and coming down from your highs with him wrapped around you, breathing into your neck.

Logan and Alex were in the cabin, listening to yours and Oscar’s needy moans as they squirmed in their seats. They were wondering if maybe next time, Oscar would let them fuck you.

[msbigredmachine]

Kitty Kat (Roman Reigns)

After a lifetime of searching, the Tribal Chief may have finally found the woman of his dreams. Post Summerslam 2024.

Warnings: SMUT (yes i know its excessive im sorry 😭)

Word Count: 5.3k

A/N: This got way too long bc I talk too much. I tried to shorten it I promise but I just couldn't. I do hope you like it either way...

Song inspiration: Again - Lenny Kravitz

Credit to the owners of the pics and gifs

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

He could get used to this.

As he stepped off the plane, Joe discreetly adjusted the bulge in his pants and exhaled deeply, allowing himself a giddy smile in anticipation for what was to come. 

He couldn’t wait to see her again. His Kitty Kat. The interesting part was that this time, she’d flown him out to come spend the week with her, in First Class, no less. “It’s a five-hour flight from Cleveland to L.A., so I want you to be as comfortable as possible, Daddy,” she’d told him. Never in his wildest dreams did he envision being ‘flewed out’. He’d been the one flying her out in his private jet, chartering luxury vehicles to bring her to him. The reverse felt strange and would take some getting used to, but it did feel nice to be pampered and taken care of for once.

Seated comfortably in the back of the Cadillac Escalade driving him through the City of Angels, he reminisced about last night in Cleveland. It was fun to hear the crowd again, the adrenaline rush of his entrance music blaring all around the Browns Stadium. It was a long absence from wrestling for him, darkened by the passing of his father, followed by the whirlwind preparation and execution of his funeral, grand, exhausting and emotional. Kat being by his side for all of it was a precious elixir he could never repay her for, but perhaps he could start tonight.

His thoughts were interrupted by his phone ringing. It was an unknown number, but against his better judgment, he answered and hoped it wasn’t some weirdo fan. “Hello?”

“You left town without telling me? I saw you all over Summerslam last night!” the shrill, familiar voice responded.

Scratch that. Now he wished it was a fan. “I know I blocked your ass. This is stalking,” was his cold greeting. 

“I just want us to talk, Joe! We can’t just end things the way we did!”

“Ain’t nothin’ to talk about, Ebony. I got the DNA test I wanted. Go find your baby daddy and leave me the fuck alone.”

“Are you ever gonna forgive me? I made a mistake!” Ebony pleaded. “You didn’t even invite me to Sika’s funeral. That hurt my feelings, Joe.”

“Bitch, don’t piss me off!” Joe countered angrily. “Blurting out that I’m not Josiah’s daddy was not a mistake! I also found the messages in your phone, remember? You and your little group chat laughed at me, laughed about me raising a kid that ain't mine!”

“That’s a female ass trait, y’know, lookin’ through my phone and invading my privacy!” Ebony complained.

“You can invade these nuts,” Joe dismissed, “You cheated on me and lied about the paternity of your son! That’s enough for me to wash my hands off of you and that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

For a second, Ebony was quiet. Then, “Let me guess. You’re with that uppity rich bitch. She was at your dad’s funeral, both of y'all looked so cozy in the videos. She's the reason you don’t wanna work things out, right? Weren’t you seeing her before we broke up? Who’s the cheater now, huh?”

Joe scoffed in disbelief. After all she’d done to make his life a living hell, she was still gaslighting him. “We were over long before I started seeing her. I only hung around cuz I thought the kid you were carrying was mine. Don’t act like your whorish toxic ways didn’t drive me into her arms in the first place! You broke us up, so I’ve moved on from your evil ass. Simple.”

Ebony kissed her teeth. “You are so disrespectful to me, always have been. You never cared about me. It was all about your fucking wrestling. You were always gone! I was lonely! I needed you and you didn't give a shit!”

“So that’s why you opened your legs for some bum, got knocked up, and lied that I was the father? You disrespected yourself!” He felt himself getting riled up and had to compose himself. He would not let his ex ruin his day. “Imma make this clear so even you can understand. We. Are. Done. Call me again and it’s my attorney you’ll be talking to.” Cutting off the call, he then blocked the number and deleted it for added measure.

Fuck that ho.

Anyway, back to his girl, Kat. It had been an amazing few months so far with her. Of course, he’d googled her in the beginning, asked Heyman to run a background check to make sure she was legit and not a psychopath like his ex. Katrina Sullivan was one of the most famous music producers in the world and the top executive at her renowned publishing label. She was a big time player in her industry just like he was, a star in her own right, and it was a match made in Heaven.

Not only was she incredibly beautiful, but sex with her was a wild ride. She gave him a run for his money whenever they fucked. She was all about new experiences and wasn’t too prissy to fuck inside a car or suck him off outside a dive bar. He blushed every time he remembered the freaky shit they got up to after his loss at Wrestlemania. Long story short, she made him feel much better about dropping the belt. He loved that she loved sex as much as he did, and if he wasn’t hooked on her before, he was completely addicted after that night. 

And it wasn’t all about the physical. There was an emotional bond they shared, a connection that he’d never felt with anyone else before her. Talking with her felt like talking with a friend. He would unload his good days and bad days on her and she would listen to all of it without passing judgment. He did the same for her and was proud to be the one she learned to trust after her own past heartbreaks. Joe wished he’d had the courage to leave Ebony earlier. Perhaps he would have found the woman who had become his peace, his safe haven, and closed the hole in his heart much, much sooner.

A Google Map search helped him find the best florist in town. The ladies in the shop ooh'ed and ahh'ed over the beautiful bouquet of roses he bought and how lucky his lady was. But he thought he was the lucky one. As he took a deep breath and inhaled the flowers, he felt his stomach flutter at the thought of her beautiful face, her smile, her warm embrace. Joe knew he was in love, but he didn’t quite know how to tell her yet. It was weird enough that he lowkey felt like a thot being flown out. He really didn’t mind, though. All he wanted was to be with her and just be in her presence, in her aura. He would tell her when he was ready.

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

Kat’s mansion was the stuff of dreams. Isolated on the hills of the Pacific Palisades overlooking lush Californian greenery, it was one of her rewards as the most in-demand producer in music today. The living room segued into the kitchen, which welcomed him with the smell of freshly cooked food. Pasted to her stainless steel refrigerator by a small circular ‘Acknowledge Me’ magnet, was a note from her saying that she’d just headed out for a last-minute meeting and directed him to the oven where a warm skillet of sirloin steak and seasoned roasted potatoes waited for him. She had also stocked her fridge with his Megafit meals along with C4 Energy drinks and a few bottles of her own branded tequila. His baby was spoiling him rotten and he was digging it.

He first put the fresh flowers in a vase he filled with water before settling down to eat. He wished she was here with him, but he understood more than anyone how busy things could be when you were at the top of your game. He was proud of her and wanted her to get all the coins she deserved. Halfway through his meal, he pulled out his phone and checked on her.

After dinner, he embarked on a little tour around her breathtaking abode which ended up taking several minutes to complete. Joe had some nice homes of his own around the globe, but this floored them all. The edifice dripped with luxury and was crafted to perfection, just like his Kitty Kat was. He enjoyed the gorgeous city view from her balcony as he sipped on some tequila. Her bathroom was spacious and had a waterfall shower that he luxuriated in when he stepped inside. One side of her walk-in wardrobe was lined with an assortment of brand new t-shirts, pants and dress shirts all for him. Of course she knew his size; she’d ripped his clothing off of him on many occasions. His stomach was doing flips as the time continued to tick by. It was hilarious that the big bad Tribal Chief was acting all giddy at the mere thought of a woman, but here he was, entangled in her expensive satin sheets, counting down the minutes until she was back in his arms.

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

The sound of running water jerked him awake. The plane ride must have worn him out more than he thought; he didn’t even realize when he fell asleep. The sky outside was now pitch black but the bathroom lights were switched on. As he sat upright in the bed, something rolled down his bare chest and onto his lap. He looked down and his breath hitched. A sheer, baby pink-colored thong, just removed. Unable to resist, he held it up to his nose and shivered as her sensual aroma filled his nostrils and sent all his blood rushing south. With newfound enthusiasm, he climbed out of the bed and padded over to the bathroom. 

Katrina’s back was turned to him, standing over the tub as she drained the bath. Draped in a fluffy lilac bathrobe that barely covered her backside as she bent over, Joe chose to stand there and admire her, letting his eyes follow the rivulets of water that trickled down her long shapely legs. He trailed his gaze along the backs of her knees and her oh-so-sexy thighs, stopping at her luscious derrière where he found her pussy lips, slick and glistening, winking at him. He groaned out loud at the sight, feeling his bulge stir in his drawstring shorts.

Alerted by the noise he made, Kat spun around and sighed. "Oh, damn," she frowned and bounced her fist against her thigh.

Joe raised an eyebrow at her reaction. “Did I frighten you?”

“Not really. I wanted to wake you up by sucking your dick.” 

Chuckling heartily, he stepped closer. "You still can, baby. Don’t let me stop you,” he said, sealing their lips together in a kiss he’d been thinking about for weeks. He held her tight, molding their bodies together as time seemed to stop all around them. The anticipation had been building all day and just this moment alone was worth the long wait.  

Joe sighed happily against her lips, his fingers massaging the back of her neck. “Mmm, I can tell you missed me. Did you miss me, baby?”

“You know I did, Daddy,” she whispered back. It had been months in the making, but Kat was thrilled that he was finally here in her humble abode. She pulled back to regard him, marveling at the sheer height and width of him, his bare, broad chest showcasing that beautiful tattoo and all those muscles. Fuck, he was so hot. “I saw the roses in the kitchen, they’re beautiful,” she said.

“Not as beautiful as you are, baby,” Joe answered, brushing his thumb along her bottom lip. “How was your meeting?”

Kat huffed and rolled her eyes. “Waste of my time. Don’t really wanna talk about it,” she added, changing the topic to a more exciting one. “You looked so good last night, babe. I could see how happy you were to be back.”

“I was,” he admitted, his light brown eyes lighting up. “Bro, hearing the fans go bananas when my music hit was insane. And all those fingers in the air, too. Four years of bustin' my ass finally paying off.”

“Huh. I had one finger out too, but it wasn’t in the air, and I was layin’ in bed. Naked,” Kat teased, fluttering her long eyelashes at him.

The thought of her writhing around in bed aroused by his show of violence caused another tightening in his shorts. With a growl in his voice, he responded, "Show me." 

“Wait.” She put up one hand before he could grab her. “Before we get started…I never got to ask you because we were so busy with the funeral…But did you take the DNA test?” she asked, watching with dismay as his face fell. He looked away with a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, something she learned he did when he was reeling in his emotions. 

“Yeah. Josiah’s not mine,” he replied sadly.

Two distinct emotions of her own rushed through Kat at this news. Relief, that he was no longer tied to Ebony and he could now, finally, move on with his life. Move on with her. Disappointment, on his behalf, knowing that he had enjoyed getting to know the baby boy he’d thought was his child. “I’m so sorry,” was all she could muster.

“Don’t be. At least I know the truth now. I care about the kid, but he’s not my responsibility any more,” he choked out, the sting of losing that sweet little boy still raw and painful.

“Oh, baby.” Kat rubbed her hands up and down his broad back to soothe him. She regretted downing the mood and sought to fix it. “What can I do?” 

Joe shook his head and sank into her embrace. “Just be with me, like this. I wanna be with you. Thank you for bringing me out here, it’s exactly what I needed.”

“Of course. You know I gotchu,” she assured him, butterflies sprouting inside her belly as he dropped feather-light kisses on her neck, trailing along her shoulder which was soon bare as he slipped off her robe and dropped it to the floor. She tugged down his shorts and her hungry gaze zeroed in on that other part of him that she missed. All those FaceTime calls and selfies did very little justice to the real thing. This was his first time on her turf, and she was determined to use this week wisely, especially as this extended period didn’t quite exist before. 

In the beginning, their meetings were brief and eventful, a couple of hours’ escape from the madness going on in their individual lives. Meet up, scorch the sheets, and wake to the sound of the rustle of clothes pulled from the floor, the sharp zipping of bags, quick kisses goodbye followed by the front door quietly clicking open and shut. At each other’s mercy at sunset then disappearing before dawn to resume reality. It was a thrill at first but as time passed, Kat realized she wanted more with him. She wanted to begin and end her days in his sturdy arms. Wanted them to shower together, to eat together and spend much more time together. Simply put, she wanted to be a real couple, and she was ecstatic when he confessed that he wanted the same. Coming to L.A. was a great start and it excited Kat to no end.

Hand in hand, they walked together, naked, out of the bathroom. She giggled as he followed closely behind her, kissing her neck and touching her body along the way. As they reached the bed, Joe noticed the bottle of champagne sitting in a bucket full of ice on the nightstand. Kat read his mind. “Just a lil’ sumn to celebrate your arrival,” she clarified, as he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her to stand between his legs. His gaze was soft, yet beautifully intense as he ran his hands up her thighs and her hips, cupping her backside and bringing her even closer to him. He pressed his lips to her stomach, adorning her belly with gentle, open-mouthed kisses that felt so good she moaned pleasurably in approval.

“I’m in love with you,” he whispered against her brown skin, his voice clear yet filled with a vulnerability he’d never felt before.

Kat smiled down at him. “Took you long enough. I’ve been waiting for you.”

“For real?” His heart pounding so hard in his chest he was sure she could hear it.

Her smile widened as she loosened his ponytail, letting the long dark locks fall and frame his breathtaking features like the angel he was. Her angel. “Yeah. I mean…After everything we’ve shared, after getting to know the beautiful person that you are, of course I’m in love with you too.”

They were words he’d been hoping to hear from her for a while now, and now that he had, he was robbed of every sensation other than joy and peace and the burning need to make love to her nonstop for the rest of his stay in the West Coast. “You’re beautiful too, baby girl,” he rasped, drawing her back in, “So fuckin’ beautiful…”

They clung to each other, making out with increasing passion, both of them extremely aroused and more desperate than ever in the wake of this wonderful revelation. As they kissed, he slipped one hand over her breast, kneading gently, eliciting from her those purring sounds that earned her sexy little nickname. He missed his Kitty Kat so much. The last time they were together was at his father’s funeral, and he couldn't be with her the way he wanted to be. Now that they were all alone there was nothing stopping him from having his way with her.

But apparently, she had other plans. 

She pushed him hard in the chest, smirking at his surprised grunt as he hit the mattress rather unceremoniously. “Get in,” she instructed him.

He frowned petulantly at her, but did as he was told, dragging himself backwards up the bed with his eyes on her at all times. He felt his mouth go dry as she crawled towards him on all fours like the sexy ass kitten she was. As she reached the space between his open legs, she surprised him by picking up her thong and winding it around his wrists, securing it tight before pushing his arms over his head. 

“Baby…” he pouted.

“Shhhh,” Kat shushed him quietly, thrilled by the submission in his eyes, the surrender in his soft moan, his dick hard and erect in anticipation. Having control over a man like him felt so empowering. Though sexually submissive to him, Kat always enjoyed it when the roles were switched. It never lasted long though, so she planned to make the most of it.

Climbing back down his body, she rubbed her hands on the expanse of his thighs, his caramel skin warm beneath her fingers. She moved higher, coming dangerously close to the pleasure between his legs but avoiding it, for now. She wanted to touch it but the wait was more exciting. Her hands disappeared to squeeze his ass cheeks, and then reappeared over his hips, traveling along the sharpened ridges of his six-pack abs and up to his broad chest. Her body followed suit, sliding up until her thighs bracketed his sides. The little hiss that escaped him as she sat on his torso thrilled her; she knew right away that he could feel her warm moistness against his skin. Her fingers found his nipples next, toying with them before leaning in to lick them, and giggled with amusement when his dick sprang high enough to smack against her backside.

“Fuck, baby, feel what you do to me?” Joe hissed, his cock jumping again as her mouth warmed his neck, nibbling on the shell of his ear as she whispered to him in the softest, deadliest timbre: 

"I’m just getting started, big guy."

Sitting upright on top of him, she reached for the ice bucket, scooping out an ice cube in the shape of an exquisite diamond. The ravenous look in Joe’s eyes matched hers as she sipped on the cube, letting the cold melt on her tongue and travel down her throat. Then, she bent down and kissed him, her cold tongue quickly warming up from the heat of his mouth. The wet muscles moved together in a sweet dance, delightedly intertwining, obsessed with the taste of each other. Kat pressed the ice cube to his chest, giggling when he jerked from the cold, and drew figure eights with it, watching rivulets of water trickle down the sides of his body. She put the ice cube on his right nipple and watched it harden. Then she replaced the ice with her warm mouth on his cold nipple.

“Shit, baby you killin’ me,” he moaned, looking on with hooded eyelids as she kissed down his body. She stopped between his legs, bowing her body in front of his erection, long and thick and hard, precum glistening on his slit. Her tongue darted out to taste it, licking her lips with pleasure. Giving him a sly wink, she took the tip of his dick in her mouth and sucked, winding her tongue around the head like a hungry snake. The moan that escaped his lips was needy and borderline painful, causing her eyes to light up in triumph. 

“When I get my hands on you…” he growled, his expression almost pissed, but Kat knew better. His frustration mingled with his lack of control, control she’d taken from him all day by calling the shots from his travel to the food he ate. The sensual power play continued as she massaged his dick, the thick velvety flesh twitching in her hands as his hands twitched in his makeshift binds. Using the flat of her tongue, she licked up and down his shaft, making slurping sounds that were drowned out by his groans as she spread her saliva all over his dick. She was addicted. He tasted so good and she craved to have her fill.

Putting a smaller ice cube in her mouth, she chewed it, crushing the ice with her teeth. From there, she hugged his dick with her lips, dousing the heat of his flesh with the coldness of her throat. Tiny bits of ice melted against his shaft as she sucked and tongued every inch of him. She could feel his chest heaving and his abs crunching, could hear his strangled moans as he got warmer and got harder in her mouth. He was right where she wanted him. Resting her weight on his burly thighs, she moaned to him to let go, and smiled when seconds later a shout burst from him, his hips arching off the bed as he unloaded down her throat. She drank her fill of him, glancing up to watch the pleasure ravage his huge body, giving a little smile as he floated down back to earth. 

“Oh my god…” he breathed, his body jerking when she pulled away, letting his dick, slick with her spit and his cum, plop down on his thigh. With one more long, soft kiss to his length, she slithered back up his body, pressing her lips to his for a sweet, delicate kiss which heavily contrasted with the heaviness of his dick brushing along her now-wet opening. Pleasing him turned her on in a way her notoriously composed self could never comprehend.

“You came so hard for me, baby. The look on your face was everything,” Kat gifted him a teasing lash of her tongue against his as she ran her hands up his arms to toy with the sheer material holding him hostage. Lifting her body up, she slowly sank down on his dick, a gasp slipping from her when the smooth tip pierced through her soft, slick folds, enabling her to wind her hips to take him all the way in. They both moaned as the thickness of him nudged her sweet spot, coaxing a whine out of her as she wrapped her arms around his neck, wanting him close, making out with him while slowly rocking her body back and forth, grinding her clit on him. It stunned her to this day, how she was able to take him all, his length and girth filling her and hitting her most sensitive spot right away. The power that coursed through her at making him succumb to her will, no different from any pinning combination or submission move, was intoxicating. Her moans and his groans reverberated through the bedroom, the air thick with the scent of sex as she loved on him.

“Untie me. Now,” Joe commanded out of nowhere, the roughness of his tone surprising Kat. One look at the power and pleasure on his beautiful face told her he was not taking no for an answer. Obediently, she  reached up and unraveled the underwear from around his wrists, and she had barely tossed it aside when his hands came around her, finding her backside and thrusting deeper into her. Finally, he could touch her the way he wanted. He loved her ass, enjoyed the feel of it gyrating against his palms. He landed a heavy-handed slap on it, making her burrow her face in his neck with a soft cry, the sound growing more desperate as his fingers caressed the supple flesh of her ass while grinding up into her, making her feel so good.

“Such a badass bitch, yet so weak for me. Weak for this dick,” he purred to her with a kiss to her shoulder. The wicked gleam in his eyes had Kat both frustrated and aroused, but the unmistakable glimpse of lust clouding those eyes showed he was just as weak for her. With every downward motion of her hips, she could see him become more mesmerized, his breaths huskier, his face contorting with unbridled bliss as her pussy squeezed his length in deep, throbbing pulls. Sensing him trying to regain control, she beat him to it, pushing up and steadying herself on top of him. With both hands planted on his strong chest, she adjusted her legs in a squat and began bouncing on his dick, up and down, fucking him, taking from him what she wanted, giving him what he needed. 

“Fuck, that’s it, kitten, ride the shit outta my dick,” Joe groaned, his huge hands now clamped around her waist. “I’m here now, baby. I gotchu. Take it out on me, take all that stress out on me.” It was a wonder to watch her, her knees up and wide apart, treating him to the sight of her moist flesh gliding all the way down his turgid flesh and back up, leaving the base of his dick a wet, slippery mess. It looked incredible and felt even better. “You so wet for me, baby girl,” he rasped, reaching up to massage her bouncing breasts. “I love it when you use me. You love using Daddy’s big dick, huh?”

"Yes, Daddy I love it...Shiiit, oh my goddd!" Kat threw her head back, her moans shaky, her body trembling on top of him as waves of ecstasy washed over her thanks to the orgasm wracking her from head to toe.  

“Unnhh yeah, come for Daddy, come on my dick,” he moaned back to her, his full lips parted and panting, his eyes boring into hers as he watched her come undone. Overcome with passion, he sat upright and tugged her flush against him, his breath hitching as the action sank him even deeper into her. He needed to hold her to him, needed to make her all his. “I ain’t pullin’ out,” he announced, moving her on him again, “I'ma come all up inside you, baby.”

His words sank in, but any coherent answer she had disappeared with another rake of his dick against her g-spot. Wordlessly, Kat snuggled into his warm embrace, locking her arms and legs around him as she continued to grind on him in a deliciously erotic rhythm. Wrapping his arms around her waist, Joe planted a big kiss upon her throat, her jaw, then her lips, enjoying the taste of her moans as his hips rolled along with hers like a choreographed dance. Emotions were high as they joined as one, surrounded by the sounds of the newfound love they were finally expressing to each other. The mattress bounced beneath them, the legless bed rocking in tune with their heated bodies rocking on top of it. Every worry they had was gone and replaced with a hunger and need for the other that they both knew they would never be able to satiate.

"I love you," Joe whispered, pushing her hair out of her eyes to gaze into them.

“I love you too, baby...oh fuck,” Kat panted, burying her face in his shoulder, her hands sliding down to grip his ass as she bucked her hips like a mad woman. Joe moved with her, not missing a single beat. His own release was building fast within him, too fast. The blood was pounding in his head and tightening his balls as her pussy squeezed his cock so tight he was having a hard time catching his breath. They soon realized they were climaxing together, both shaking from the intense, throbbing waves of pleasure. Kat’s toes curled into the sheets as she felt his warm fluid gushing into her pussy just like he wanted, felt his body pulse as hard as his dick pulsing deep inside of her. No piece of music, no music video she created could ever compare to the magic she made with this incredible man, ever be as beautiful as the sight of his face scrunching up helplessly as his orgasm consumed him. So she kept her eyes on him for as long as she could, watching all the emotions sweep his gorgeous visage like an unforgettable movie. 

An eternity later, their movements slowed, their breathing calmed, their hearts racing as one as the world returned to normal. Joe felt light as air as he fell back onto the bed, Kat melting into him with her head on his chest, where his heart beat for her. He was still inside her and she kept him there, wanted to be filled with all his love in the very best way.

“Welcome home, my love,” she giggled, soothed by his own throaty chuckle vibrating against her skin. Her eyes fluttered shut as his lips pressed her forehead. She wished she could bottle the sound of his laugh, the feeling of his soft lips, bottle this very moment forever.

“Glad to be home, my love,” he answered, his fingers caressing her back as he kissed her mouth. “I can tell my time in L.A. is gonna be fun.”

"Mm-hmm. We got all week, Daddy," Kat eyed him with a sly smile, tracing her manicured index finger along his tattooed pectoral, "Like I said, we're just getting started."

THE END.

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

A/N: This is the only story I've had the energy to complete. I'd love to know your thoughts!

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[doromoni]

Not Over the Papaya | OP81

⊹ ｡•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Ships : Oscar Piastri x Popstar! Reader , Ex!Lando Norris x Popstar! Reader

Genre : Fluff Smau

A/N : This is so fun to writeeee.Also would you guys like a series masterlist… or does my current Main masterlist do the job? Btw just another reminder ~ no hate to the people referenced in this fic.

Face claim : Jennie Kim

Warnings : Mild cursing , Grammar Errors

Summary : Y/N and Oscar cope with their own breakups by making the Heartbreak Club.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

< Previous | Part 2 | Next >

landonorris 1h

*messages are disabled

Notification : You received a message from Oscar

Notification : You received a message from Max

*Message sent

*Incoming call from Oscar

Pick up or Decline

Pick up

“Hi Y/N”

“Hi Osc”

“So how have you been?”

“Really Oscar? how have I been… could you be more awkward?”

“Yes really, now answer the question gremlin”

“Ok fine. I’ve been feeling shitty lately, because your teammate decide to cheat on me. How about you Oscar how have you been?”

“I’ve been feeling like shit too. Because my high school girlfriend decided to cheat on me then proceed to dump me over text”

“Wait… what?? She broke up with YOU? and she did it over text too? I did not know that”

“Yup, honestly couldn’t get more sad than that I guess”

“Well if it helps, Lando did the same to me… so yeah.”

“Wow. What amazing exes we have huh?”

“I know right? were just so lucky on that department. So what are you doing to cope?”

“You know, I have racing and training to keep my mind off it. Logan’s trying to be there for me as much as he can. How bout you?”

“Hmmm~ thats great to hear. Me? I uh guess writing songs really helps”

“You know, talking to you really helps too.”

“Really?? Well i like talking to you too Osc”

“Yeah, you’ve been a surprising addition to my schedule. Never imagined being this friendly with my teammates’s girlfriend”

“EX-girlfriend. And yeah same … and I’m grateful that I got to talk to you. SEE I told you Heartbreak Club will help us!”

“Alright, Nerd. I admit it”

“Hmm. I just realized something.”

“What?”

“I’ve never heard you talk as much before. Oh my! did I just influence you to becoming a yapper??”

“Ok dork shut up”

“HHAHAHAHAAH”

“Where are you now? Your in England right?”

“Yes. I’m at my condo… why?”

“how about a coffee run?”

“Since when did you drink coffee?? and now??”

“Since you forced me drink the latte at the MTC and yes now. Are you in or not?”

“YES! i’m down”

“Alright. Dress up and I’ll pick you up.”

“Mkay! drive safe. Byeee”

“I will. Bye Y/N”

*Call ended

Y/N. 45m

*comments are disabled

oscarpiastri 30m

story replies

Y/N. Wow since when did you start taking aesthetic photos 🤭

oscarpiastri I get tons of practice because a certain someone makes me take soo much pictures.

landonorris I thought you broke up with your girlfriend

oscarpiastri I did.

landonorris oh? who’s she thenn

oscarpiastri someone special to me.

lilyz who’s the girl?

oscarpiastri it doesn’t concern you.

Y/N.

liked by y/bf , oscarpiastri, sabrinacarpenter, charles_leclerc, and others

Y/N. You embarrassed me motherf—

sabrinacarpenter YES. Slay Mama~ I see you 🤭.

Y/N. did I do justice with your lyrics Luv?

sabrinacarpenter I knew smth hot was coming when you asked to use my lyrics!

Y/N. 🤭🤭🤭

user1 That body bang! y/n really said not yours anymore.

user2 she’s hot, talented and successful. Lando fumbled BAD.

user3 Not Y/N casually letting us know she’s booked Calvin Klein. 🥵

user4 Ok but who’s that on the 2nd and 5th slide thooo.

user5 if its a friend or smth more who caresss if Lando could jump into a relationship that fast, Y/n could as well.

user6 Oscar in the likes, I see you.

user7 I lowkey ship 🫣

user8 maybe its oscar in the photos too!

user6 Y/N and Oscar have been interacting lots lately

user9 Oscar’s with lily tho.

user10 I haven’t seen them together for so long. Smth seems off tbh.

user11 Oscar and lily are both private people so of couse we don’t get to see them.

Y/N. why are y’all gossiping in my comments 🧐

user6 WTF hello @Y/N??

oscarpiastri

liked by Y/N. , mclaren, logansargeant, charles_leclerc and others

oscarpiastri Change of plans. I’m into coffee now ☕️

logansargeant in my years of knowing you , you never drank coffee

oscarpiastri well taste changes mate, what can I say? liked by Y/N.

charles_leclerc now you’re really my son!

user1 WHO TAUGHT OSCAR HOW TO POST CUNTY PICS?

user2 show yourself! we need to thank you 😭

user3 I choked on air when I saw it was posted on Oscar’s personal ig! i thought it was a fan page or smth.

user4 3rd slide had me on a chokehold!!

user5 Oscar’s hotness aside. Why does the caption sound so cryptic.

user6 Right?? is it really about coffee tho… ur very suspect Oscar Jack Piastri.

user7 specially when rumors of Oscar and Lily breaking up???

user8 What do you mean? where did you hear that??

user7 check twitter girl!

user9 Ok now Y/N’s in the likes and her liking Oscar’s reply!! What is happening yall 😭

user10 everything has been so messy. but ngl when Y/N used Oscar’s Tweet format? Iconic.

user11 Y/Nscar interactions are migrating to instagram.

*Incoming call from Oscar

Pick up or Decline

Pick up

“Hello, Osc. What’s up?”

“I need your help.”

“With what exactly?”

“Making an announcement”

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