#can the call already be over please. PLEASE

[distuff]

How about ‘would they be jealous if you were talking to/hanging out with someone for a long time’? Just how would they act with jealousy for all the saja boys, or baby and mystery if u don’t want to do all of the saja boys

Answer: Hello my dear readershi! Thank you for the prompt. As it gives me a tOn of creative freedom lol I hope you'll enjoy what I've created for ya ( ´ ꒳ ` ) Also! arigatou for givin mhe a choice, bUt I'll happily do all of 'em for ya. Note. The person who asked for another jealousy troupe, as well, please note that yours will be posted tomorrow if nothing major comes in between🙌

📍Requests: Please, check my Bio.

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

Demon Boys' And Others With You

Featuring: Jinu Saja, Abs Saja, Mystery Saja, Romance Saja, Baby Saja Reader: Gender neutral

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Jinu Saja

🐦‍⬛ So. Let’s get one thing straight. Jinu was not the jealous type. Why bother? I mean really! He’s a demon for crying out loud! He can shift into the most handsome being, conjure up anything he wants with a snap of his fingers if he so much as wished to. He had no reason to be jealous of others - if anything, others should be jealous of him.

🐦‍⬛ So why is it that when you tell him you’ll have to cancel your date because of this “other person”, he feels like… he doesn’t have everything? His silence must have been confirmation for you. Or maybe it was the call from that other person in the background that made you hang up with a quick, “Love you!”

🐦‍⬛ Jinu doesn’t know - nor does he care as much as he cares about the setup in front of him. It took effort to kick the other guys out and get the living room to look the way it did now: pillows spread on the floor, fluffy blankets tossed around, and a perfect mix of warm and cold snacks for your lazy night together. Some random movie was already playing quietly in the background.

🐦‍⬛ It took considerable self-restraint not to set the calling device - “phone,” as humans called it - on fire, or smash it to bits. Instead, he threw it onto the couch with a dramatic groan, scowling at the feeling curling tight in his chest. It felt far too familiar for his liking - a reminder of his pathetic past.

🐦‍⬛ Jinu brushed it off the first time. Whatever. Fine. You had a life outside of him. Who cares! Not him! ... The Tiger and the Magpie gave him unimpressed stares. Or at least, the bird did. Tiger - Jinu hoped - was trying to console him, especially when he slowly walked over… only to pass him without pause and disappear into Jinu’s room. “Ungrateful cat…” Jinu muttered.

🐦‍⬛ The second time? It wasn’t even supposed to be just the two of you. The guys were also there to hang out with you. Jinu refused to acknowledge the tick in his brow when you told him over the “phone” that you’d unexpectedly had to meet up with someone else.

🐦‍⬛ Jinu also pointedly ignored the sidelong glances the others were giving him. Baby looked utterly disinterested in this matter, while the rest tried to hype him up in their own... unique and completely unnecessary ways- Jinu takes it back. Baby wasn’t the asshole this time. Safe to say, when it kept happening, Jinu was starting to seriously consider binding you to him with a demonic contract.

Jinu would’ve congratulated you - for managing to make him think about anything other than his mission or his desire to reclaim his soul. But you weren’t here. Again. It wasn’t like you two didn’t hang out at all anymore... but it was less than what Jinu was used to. With a heavy sigh, Jinu closed his eyes, pressing his forearm against them as he lay sprawled in bed. Who knew what hour it was? Judging from the low hum of the honmoon barrier mingling with the underlying energy of the others, it wasn’t late enough for them to rest. Not that they needed to - but it helped pass the time when there was nothing else to do. Like right now. Right now, when Jinu could - should - be focusing on the reason he was even in the human world to begin with. But he couldn’t. Because every time he tried, his mind circled back to you. To the thought that maybe you’d figured out who - what - he was. That maybe he didn’t have whatever it was you were looking for... and you were seeking it in someone else. “Ridiculous...” he muttered. Unsure if it was aimed at himself or the situation. His thoughts betrayed him, replaying moment after moment with you. His hand reached automatically for Tiger, who had curled up on his stomach and was now purring softly. Comforting. He thought of your first meeting. The first time you went out to dinner and actually made him laugh - really laugh, not the practised kind he’d perfected over centuries. The way you smiled when you were just being you, and how that let him ease into showing bits of himself - shifting between disguise and truth. He remembered introducing you to the others. The way you slowly, but surely easier into his life more. You even hung out with th—

Jinu's eyes snapped open. He shot upright so suddenly that Tiger had to duck off the bed to avoid being smacked in the face. Jinu sat there, eyes blown wide, as a memory slammed into him like a newly turned demon. He hadn’t corrected either of them. You hadn’t been with them at the time - but knowing those idiots? There was no telling when they might’ve run into you without mentioning it and just blurring the same words in front of you. Teasingly or not, Jinu could easily imagine you not taking it well. Could it be…? His eyes narrowed, glowing gold for a brief second before flicking back to black as his ears strained, hearing the phone on his nightstand vibrate seconds before ringing. He glanced at the screen - then instantly answered it, pressing the phone to his ear. Your voice, as beautiful and soothing as always, spilled into the quiet and Jinu felt tension he didn’t even know he was holding unravel inside him. “Jinu~ Why aren’t you sleeping?” He pulled one knee up to rest his elbow on it, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he answered just as gently, “Who says you didn’t wake me up, hmm?” It seemed it was late for a human then. Hearing you laugh and shifting around in the background, Jinu zeroed his attention on you. “Because when you sleep, you sleep, hahaha!” Not true, Jinu thought - but didn’t say. He was wide awake plenty of times. But if pretending to be asleep meant you’d play with his hair longer, he’d do it every time. There was a pause. He could only hear your breathing. And usually, that was enough. It brought him peace. But even across the distance, he could feel your hesitance. A subtle uncertainty within your honmoon signature that made something twist in his chest.

Why are you hesitating… with me?

He pressed the phone tighter to his ear, fingers twitching with the urge to reach for your wavelength through the barrier as the hollowness in his chest thrummed with quiet ache. Before he met you, the void was easier to ignore - insatiable, familiar. But now… even if it wasn’t full, you brought warmth. A soft light that flickered in the emptiness where a soul should have been.

He didn’t want to go back to that empty place. He didn’t want to go back to before you. “Jinu?” you finally said his name, and the hesitation in it made him tense again. He wanted to ask, What is it? He wanted to ask, Are you going to end this? But his thoughts spiralled too fast to settle on just one question. Which was ridiculous. He had nothing to lose and nothing to give you. This whole... arrangement wasn't even there to last... That should’ve made it easier. Should’ve. But did not. Jinu let out a deep breath, realising you wouldn’t continue unless he showed he was listening. Shifting, he lay back on the pillow, gripping the phone tightly. “Yeah?” he finally breathed, ignoring Tiger’s piercing gaze and Magpie’s scrutinising stare from across the room. He expected a lot. Maybe an awkward apology - not that you needed to apologise. He’d never outright said anything was wrong. Maybe you’d tell him you weren’t comfortable anymore. Maybe— That’s why, when your next words came, his eyes widened, and he blurted the first thing that came to mind. “Is something wrong?” you asked, unsure and worried. “No—No. Pffft. Nooo—why would you think that?” he said, way too quickly. Even a blind human would’ve known something was off. Another pause. Then a sigh. “Jinu…” you said his name with a tired, warning tone. He grinned shakily, even though you couldn’t see it. “Yeeees?” he drawled, teasing - but you huffed. He could almost see your expression: the smile tugging at your lips, the brow you always raised when he was clearly bullshitting. Then there was silence again. This time, Jinu broke it. With a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagged. Under Tiger’s drilling gaze, Magpie’s quiet judgement, and your pressing silence he finally admitted what had been weighing him down. “You never—” No, that wasn’t right. He inhaled and tried again. “We don’t spend as much time as we used to and I - I can’t help but wonder if… the person you always seem to prefer has something I… don’t.” He couldn’t hide the flush in his cheeks. Embarrassed. But it was either say it or let it rot the short-lived connection that brought him comfort. Thankfully, you didn’t let him stew for long. “Baboya~” you said fondly, and Jinu could hear your smile. “These people are just part of the project I was assigned to.” Jinu blinked. Speechless. “…Project?” he echoed. Barely registering this "person" were "people". You laughed gently. “Yes! Hahaha! I really do apologise. Looks like I forgot to tell you… It’s just hard to focus on all my responsibilities when I’m with you, Jinu. I promise! This time, I won’t bail on you, ’kay?” He felt his face soften into a grin. Something in his chest buzzed - there may be no heart in his core, but he could still feel the growing warmth. He bent forward, clutching his shirt with his free hand, grinning like an idiot. “You better… You don’t want me to steal you right in front of them, do you?” You laughed, probably thinking he was joking. But Jinu wasn’t. Not even a little. Your words reassured him that he was enough - but after everything he’d experienced, he wasn’t going to let anyone take your time meant for him. He wasn’t that reasonable of a “man.”

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Abs Saja

💪 Abby had no issue with you hanging out with others. He trusted that you had eyes and knew he was a catch - and that you’d tell him if something wasn’t right, just like he bluntly did to you.

💪 Family hangouts? Easy. Abby had no problem showing up and showing off to your relatives even when he was not invited. Friends? Peers? All of that was just background noise - opportunities, really - for him to flex as your partner while the cute little rats around the two of you squealed his praises. It was a win-win.

💪 His eagerness and chill attitude about you being around others, however, was not a green light for you to pull a: “Me and the others are having a slumber party!” - followed by a kiss on the cheek and a swift sprint out of the apartment he shared with the guys.

💪 Abby respected your clever escape, because he knew if you didn’t plan it like a prison break, he would’ve already had you trapped in his arms, hoisted over his shoulder, and dragged off to his room for his required daily dose of nightly cuddles - unbothered by your flailing attempts to escape.

💪 Abby was a demon who couldn't hide his reactions. So when the door shut behind you, his brain was still buffering - trying to piece together what the hell just happened - before his lips pulled into a dramatic pout. He turned to his brothers lounging in the living room and pointed at the door with his thumb in a wordless: Can you believe that?!

💪 Jinu and Romance exchanged a glance while Mystery just shook his head - less in understanding and more in quiet pity. Baby released his lollipop with a loud pop as he looked him over with drooped eyes. “Pathetic.” Then he put his lollipop back and went right back to scribbling in a notebook, no doubt perfecting Jinu’s lyrics again.

It was safe to say Abby didn’t require rest. He didn’t have a heart like humans, meaning he didn’t need rest to produce whatever the blood was formed from for it to function. For demons, sleep was more of a pastime - something to do when there was nothing else going on. But for Abby? There was always something going on. He wasn’t the structured type - he always went with whatever caught his attention or he thought was a great idea to do. However, ever since you entered his life, Abby had developed one routine. You, in his bed, sleeping next to him every night. No exceptions. Until today. Because today, you decided a bunch of squealing meat sticks were more important than him and your shared cuddles. And for what, exactly? A slumber party? What the fuck even was that? Well, he knew now - thanks to Mystery, who had flipped through one of his human books and casually explained that slumber parties were events where humans “bonded” by staying up late, talking… and summoning demons. Which - hello? You already had a demon. Him. Or were you trying to tell him he was supposed to go to that party and fight off some pathetic, low-ranking worm of a demon to prove himself to you? That theory was quickly shut down by Jinu, who waved his arms frantically and made a big “X” with his hands. “No, no,” Jinu said, exasperated. “It’s not that kind of slumber party.” Yes, it was about bonding and talking, he explained - but mostly it was eating snacks, playing games, and then cuddling together before falling asleep. Abby did not like that. Were you saying he wasn’t good enough to cuddle? Not warm enough? Not sturdy enough? He could change forms if you needed him to! All you had to do was say the word - he could be anything for you. All he needed to do was tell you that he was a demon who could- Abby let out a frustrated growl into his pillow, which was currently trapped in a suffocating death grip. The others - excluding Romance, who had flashed him an enthusiastic thumbs-up - had shot him sharp, warning glares the moment he suggested it. Their not-so-subtle way of saying: fucking try it.

He huffed, burying his chin into the pillow that still smelled like both of you. His bored eyes drifted toward the glittering honmoon barrier, pulsing in slow, even waves on the bed. He hated how badly he wanted to devour you - to keep you with him at all times. The craving swelled in his chest as he hugged the pillow tighter. A glimmer of your energy flickered inside the honmoon. Abby���s eyes sharpened. Without realising it, he reached out - his clawed finger sinking into the mattress just inches from the glowing thread of your wavelength. That glimmering crimson pulsed over the faint blue. He grinned. Leaning forward, he easily cast your line into his shadow, the dying blue and vibrant red of your link illuminating his face. His sharper teeth gleamed. Abby growled in approval, "My small, precious human..." he murmured, nuzzling his nose into the line, pressing his cheek against it as your wavelength trembled. Seconds later, the device Jinu called a “phone” began ringing on his nightstand. Lazily rising, Abby leaned over, using one hand to balance himself while the other reached for the phone. The moment he saw your name on the screen, his grin deepened. Satisfaction pulsed through him as he accepted the call. He purposely lowered his voice, making it gravelly - like he’d just woken up. “What’s up...” “Abby?” Your voice was soft, startled, like you were rudely awakened by something. He hummed deeply in response, shifting on the bed so his feet touched the floor. He could hear you moving around in the background too, still disoriented. “Ah—sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you…” “No, no,” he replied gently. “You called. Did something happen?” He added a slight rasp, pretending to wake himself up for you. You yawned, which made him chuckle as he stood and stretched his shoulders, muscles flexing. “No, nothing really. Just… do you think I—” He cut you off smoothly, already halfway to his closet. “Want me to come get you, sweet thing?” There was a pause on your end as he pulled on a random shirt. As soon as he put the phone back to his ear, your answer poured out, soft and almost drowsy. “…Please.” That one word was all he needed. Abby's grin stretched wider. Your voice sounded fuzzy, affected by the pull of the honmoon - probably a side effect of him tampering with it earlier. Nothing dangerous. Just made it a little easier for him. Especially if your wavelength was already weakened by their influence on you.

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Mystery Saja

🐶 Mystery was the only one among the others who was genuinely curious about the human world - in the way a scientist might be fascinated by their test subjects. A curiosity that wasn’t driven by affection or sentimentality, but by the cold, sharp edge of analysis.

🐶 That same curiosity had granted him rare insight into human behaviour. And comparing it to the era he hailed from? Mystery often wondered if he’d been born on an entirely different planet.

🐶 One of the more puzzling subjects he studied was the human desire to bond. Or more accurately - the innate need to form multiple, meaningful connections with others.

🐶 Okay… but so what? You already had Romance, with whom you could talk endlessly about new trends. Abby, who behaved like an oversized golden retriever, constantly dragging you around the city and showing you places even you - a human who lived around here - didn’t know existed. You had Jinu, who could pass as the most "normal" out of all of them and offered you the kind of grounded interaction humans seemed to crave. And Baby, who teased you endlessly until you smacked him with a pillow and he cackled like it was his reward.

🐶 You even had a good rapport with Tiger and Magpie, who you adored taking on nightly walks on which Mystery tended to tag along.

🐶 And he had given you everything a human partner could possibly want. Warm meals, stimulating conversation, the kind of scorching pleasure that left you trembling - your pleas for more eventually turning into breathless gasps begging him to slow down before you could faint.

🐶 So please. Enlighten him again how meeting these random strays was more important than spending time with him, while he read, and you used him like your personal massage therapist for your feet.

“There are not strays, 'Tery,” you sighed, arms crossed, standing your ground before him. He stood perfectly still, blocking the front door of the apartment he shared with the others. “They’re my cousins.” Mystery blinked once - not that you could see it with his fringe in the way - so he tilted his head slightly instead, the silver earrings on his left ear swaying. “What’s the difference?” You let out a short snort, stepping forward to playfully shove his chest. But Mystery remained unmoved. He couldn’t comprehend how being blood-related made a difference. Related or not, they were still doing the same thing. Taking you away from him. Having to realise that was not a joke, you straightened your posture, running a hand through your hair and said, “Mystery—” Oh no. You said his full name. It wasn't even the real one. It was the name Jinu had given him. And yet, somewhere along the way, it had rooted itself into his core so deeply that hearing it from your lips had a startling effect.

Your closeness was even worse. The way you stood there, just a breath away. The possibility of closing that distance— It made shivers spread under his skin. The corners of his mouth twitched, ears straining to catch each syllable that left your lips. “I’ll be back by 5:20,” you said, voice calm, trying to sound reasonable. “Maybe earlier. I don’t know how long they’ll keep me.” You really were sounding logical. But not to him. Mystery didn’t move. A thick silence settled between you as you stared him down, and he stared back through the veil of hair over his eyes. He relished the way your gaze roamed over him, your brows furrowed with concern. Without saying a word, Mystery reached up and gently smoothed the crease between them with his thumb. Your shoulders dropped. You exhaled. “Fiiine,” you groaned, giving him a look. “You can come with.” Good human, he thought, stepping aside and offering his arm. You looped yours through it without protest, and together you left for the café where your strays - your cousins - were waiting. At the café, Mystery immediately picked up on the subtle awkwardness between the strangers and himself. The two you’d introduced as your cousins kept glancing between him and the curious patrons nearby, who were clearly trying to place his face. Hmm. Maybe this wasn’t about you wanting to get away from him. Maybe you were trying to avoid drawing attention? Not that he cared. He adjusted the cap you'd jammed onto his head before leaving the apartment and relaxed into the chair. Now he could casually tell the others that he’d simply taken the opportunity to do “fan outreach.” Humans adored that kind of thing, didn’t they? Idols doing normal things. Going out for disgusting oil-water - what was it called again? Coffee. Romance had explained it to him once with a flair. Something about chic trend and university aesthetic... Whatever.

Mystery barely stifled a sigh when your male cousin awkwardly introduced himself, followed by your female cousin. After that, the conversation mostly flowed between you and them. Meanwhile, Mystery was simply trying not to spit out the moldy tar water in front of him and onto your cousin’s face. You said it wouldn’t take long - and thankfully, it didn’t. The two cousins had places to be. Finally outside in the fresh air, Mystery nodded at the male who returned it, a polite bow exchange with the female - and then they hugged you one by one, flashing bright smiles as they said goodbye and left behind their stench on your clothes. Mystery watched with idle disinterest… until you turned toward him with a bright smile and started walking. Without missing a beat, he fell into step beside you, his movements effortless. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he slid his arm around your waist, drawing you closer with practiced ease. “'Tery,” you hissed, startled, your head twisting as if to check whether your cousins were still nearby. “What if they—?” Before you could finish, his hand slid up from your waist to your back and finally settled on the back of your neck. He gently tilted your head forward, voice soft and steady, “No worries. They’re already gone.” You checked him for reassurance, and upon seeing his relaxed smile, you finally eased up, trusting him entirely. As you leaned into his side, Mystery kept his hand on the back of your neck - his fingers slowly kneading the base. Casually, he lifted his other hand to fix his hair, as he hooked few fingers under the strands of his fringe, letting them part as he subtly turned his head to the side, revealing one of his eyes. Sky blue, rimmed with glowing gold - until, in a blink, the gold swallowed the colour whole. His pupil narrowed into a sharp horizontal slit as his gaze locked onto your cousins. They were now frozen in place, lingering by the café entrance. He let them see it. The flash of inhuman sharpness in his smile. The knowing glint. He let it linger just long enough for their wavelengths in the honmoon to spike in alarm before he blinked, his eyes returning to their human form as he turned, letting his fringe fall back into place, Without another glance back, he walked leisurely beside you, pleased with the phantom of their fear still dancing at the edge of his senses like static. Mystery drank it all. And oh, how sweet it was.

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Romance Saja

🌹 Romance would proudly say it aloud: he didn’t understand the word jealousy.

🌹 He’d only first heard of it when he’d tagged along to the human world with the others. Baby had been grumbling about how absurdly jealous their fans could get, muttering it with a dramatic eye-roll. When Romance asked what the word meant, the younger demon had stared at him flatly, gave a shrug, and went back to chewing his gum. He waved him off lazily with, “Ask Fringy, I heard it from those shitty movies he watches. ” That word had piqued Romance’s interest. So, naturally, he went to Mystery as Baby had advised him.

🌹 Mystery didn’t bother answering directly. He simply set aside the book he’d been obsessing over, rising from the couch in one slow, fluid motion. Without a word, he drifted over to his beloved bookshelf - the one Romance secretly admired for its intricate, hand-carved detailing - and retrieved a hefty, leather-bound volume. Returning to him, Mystery opened it on some page, tapped a single word with one painted finger, and said coolly, “Read.”

🌹 Romance blinked at him, raised a brow at the demon's tone, then shrugged and did as told. A moment passed - and then he wheezed out a sudden burst of laughter, clutching his stomach as he tried not to choke on how own spit. Mystery, unfazed, simply straightened. With his usual calmness, he closed the book, returned it to its shelf, and without a single glance back, strolled wordlessly to his room, shutting the door with a soft but final click - leaving Romance in the midst of his hysterical laughter.

🌹 What a ridiculous term! Only self-pitying, bone-dry beings with not an ounce of self-respect could feel "angwy" over something they didn’t have and wished to possess. For what? To feel better?

🌹 Oh, honey~ If you feel miserable without it, you’ll still feel miserable even with it. To Romance, jealousy became just another made-up human excuse - an elegant little lie to mask their fear of revealing their true beauty. Easier to envy others than to honour one’s own shine he guessed.

🌹 He shook his head, the corners of his lips lifting into a pitying smile. Truly pitiful. And that’s exactly what made humans so very entertaining.

It was late into the night, and with nothing better to do - everything already set and ready - Abs had declared a Monopoly match. Now, they were all gathered around the coffee table in the living room. Jinu was subtly stealing from the "bank," deep in debt to Abby, who was somehow winning - though even the big guy himself didn’t seem to realise it. Mystery’s section was the most organised; he had to keep pushing up his fringe, revealing glimpses of his sculpted face and paralysing eyes - eyes Romance often claimed were more brilliant than diamonds - as he squinted at the fine print on the cards, just in case. He didn’t seem to notice Baby quietly stealing from him… again. The youngest demon among them always somehow landing in jail. Romance hoped it wasn't some future sign. He, on the other hand, was also losing, apparently. But he didn’t care. He was far more invested in choosing the more aesthetically pleasing structures on the board that he could buy. They were waiting for Mystery to roll the dice when Romance’s ears twitched at the soft sound of his door opening. He looked up just as you stepped out, dressed in an eye-catching outfit - comfortably casual, yet still striking enough to turn heads and leave people wondering if you were even real. Pride swelled in Romance’s chest. The entire ensemble was one he’d picked out for you. With an approving nod, he turned back to the board. Mystery seemed to be deciding whether to use the card in his hand now or later, causing everyone except Romance to glare at him impatiently. Naturally, the demon was unbothered. Romance heard your footsteps approach and, knowing exactly why, he straightened. Tipping his head back, he smiled just as your gentle fingers lifted his chin and your lips brushed the corner of his mouth. Neither of you paid any mind to the eyes now locked on you - nor to Jinu's dramatic gagging, which earned him a shove from Abby - or the loud pop of gum before Baby scoffed, “Disgusting,” and turned back to the board. Romance wasn’t even sure Mystery could see - his fringe was so rich it was practically a curtain. Not that Romance cared; all his attention was on the angel standing above him.

You smiled softly down at him. “I’ll be out with some of my friends and their acquaintances. Should be back around eleven.” Romance hummed, flashing a dazzling smile. “Enjoy the night, darling. Don’t be cheap on yourself,” he said with a lilting, playful tone, then turned back to the game, perfectly content - though he noted your gaze lingered. When it didn’t shift, and neither did you, he eventually looked up. The other guys had stared at him too - besides Mystery who finally rolled the dice. Romance tilted his head at you, curious. “Yes, love? Something the matter? Do you want to borrow one of my pieces of jewellery, is that it?” he asked earnestly, clearly confused by your startled expression. There was a pause - just the two of you in your own pocket of silence - before you shook your head quickly and gave a hesitant smile. “N-No! No need. Thank you for the offer though,” you said, bowing gratefully before flashing him a radiant grin. “Enjoy your night!” Romance returned it with one of his own, lifting his hand to wave as he watched you leave. “You shall too, my lovely darling!”

<><><>

Baby Saja

🍼 Baby never understood the whole concept of jealousy. He always squinted suspiciously whenever he saw one of those people inside the magic box Jinu told them humans called the “TV.” A box Mystery had grown as attached to as he was to his stupid books.

🍼 With nothing else to do today, Baby had two equally terrible options: Be dragged to some human food chain by Romance and Abby like Jinu had - relegated to “human translator” duty for demons - or sit in his room while Mystery sat through one of him movie marathons on that box, volume turned low... which, for Baby’s hearing, may as well have been blaring at full blast.

🍼 He had zero intention of venturing out alone. No need to provoke the huntresses any more than they already had. They knew what he and the others were, and Baby didn’t feel like fighting - not with his brain still aching from today’s string of stupid shows designed to entertain the masses like they were circus animals. Baby swore Gwi-Ma was punishing him twice for his human sins.

🍼 So, he ended up sitting on the floor with his back to the couch, arms loosely draped over his knees, while Mystery’s attention remained glued to the humans on-screen. The female protagonist had just spotted the male lead talking - laughing, even - with another woman after getting a message from the male that morning that he would be busy. The girl’s face twisted. She marched into the café, called him a player, and dumped his own drink over his head.

🍼 Baby narrowed his eyes, unimpressed, and bit into the lollipop in his mouth. “What the shit...” he muttered, gesturing vaguely at the screen. “Why not just talk to the guy instead of pulling a tantrum like a brat?”

🍼 He leaned back with a grimace. Even as a demon, he was rooting for the male lead to ditch her. “Man... just give up and take the other chick,” he muttered, rotating the lollipop stick slowly between his fingers. “Humans are fascinating...” Mystery said, voice flat and unreadable. Baby snorted, smirking. “Sure they are. Can’t even think rationally.”

🍼 The hair on the back of his neck suddenly stood up - his instincts prickling. He could feel Mystery’s gaze drilling into him. Unable to ignore it, Baby snapped his head around and glared up at his senior. “What?”. Mystery tilted his head slightly. “We were once humans, too.” Baby scoffed, turning back to the screen. “Yeah, and? Look where our rationality got us,” he muttered, biting down sarcastically on the word.

🍼 With nothing else to add, the two demons lapsed into companionable silence, watching as the male protagonist ran after the girl with the temper tantrum. Baby’s canines lengthened unconsciously, piercing through the candy in his mouth. Pathetic, he thought.

Baby didn’t even know how the fuck he got here. It started with Abby hyping up some “amazing BBQ chain” on the outskirts of the city - and ended with all five of them sitting in one of the private cars, courtesy of the industry that scouted them after that godawful “Soda Pop” song. Baby still shuddered at the memory. That song was a fucking curse. If any lesser demon so much as whispered it near him- He huffed and slouched deeper into his seat, pulling out the "phone". Your chat log stared back at him: a single cat sticker, a cheery “Good morning!” and a short I’ll be busy today. That same moment, Baby had immediately messaged back asking, Busy with what?, reacting to the sticker with a sun emoji. You hadn’t read it yet. “Tch.” Whatever. Baby brushed it off like he brushed off the growing void in his chest - and the saliva pooling in his mouth. The urge to devour your soul was stronger than usual. He figured even his demon body was getting impatient to blend with you already. Soon, he thought, lips quirking into a smile. That was enough to earn a suspicious glance from Abby, who immediately commented that he looked “creepy.” So Baby chucked his phone at his face. It nearly escalated into a full-blown brawl, if not for Mystery and Jinu unleashing just enough demonic aura to force the two of them to sit back down. Baby hated that he couldn’t fight back properly without risking his head getting sliced off. His body would regenerate - eventually -but sitting around bodyless for hours was a major buzzkill. Now, they were trailing behind Mystery, who’d been told to “smell out” the BBQ spot since none of them knew how to use phones beyond the bare minimum. And even that had taken months of trial and error. Romance was banned from dialling the emergency number after he’d used it for every minor inconvenience, so they wouldn't get locked up even before the mission could start. So as they followed the demon bloodhound through the streets, Baby came to a sudden stop. His droopy eyes, widened. He felt it - a faint tremble in the air. Your wavelength. His skin buzzed. Instinctively, his hand reached out to grasp it, only to recoil with a snarl as the huntresses' protection burned his palm.

Fucking nuisance. The fact that you were still untouched by demonic influence - still holding strong even after getting closer to him - set Baby’s teeth on edge. It made him boil. He wanted nothing more than to go head-to-head with those three bitches and rip apart whatever invisible leash was tied around you. All so he could feel your line clinging to him without restraint. While the others continued walking, Baby peeled away from the group, scanning his surroundings. The honmoon wave meant you were either nearby or you lived on this specific street. And no - he was pretty sure you didn’t live out here. He followed the trace across the road, dodging pedestrians, until he came to a halt. There you were. Sitting inside a café. Laughing. With some rando. You were perched on a bar stool beside them, hands cradling a cup as you spoke, giggled, playfully nudged the other - and received a shove back followed by more laughter. Baby’s lip curled, a low growl escaping him. His eyes narrowed. Is this what that female protagonist felt? Fuck no. He didn’t have pathetic self-pitying thoughts. He was untouchable. He didn’t need validation. He knew he was great. No, what Baby felt wasn’t that flimsy human brand of jealousy. This was something far more primal. An urge. To walk straight through the café doors, wedge himself between you and that leech, threaten them without saying a word, and drag you out of there. Just because your time - your presence - belonged to him. Relaxing into the sensation, Baby smirked to himself. Adjusting the bucket hat shielding some of his features from rabid fans, he casually strolled toward the café. The cashier greeted him. He ignored it. Each step he took was precise. Measured. Confident in a predatory grace wrapped in an attractive human shell. His boots clacked sharply against the wood flooring, but you didn’t hear him. The ambient café noise covered his approach, and your back was turned - attention fully on the leech across from you. The leech, however, did see him. And instead of meeting ordinary human eyes like they had to expect, they met glowing gold, shadowed under the brim of his hat. Pupils slitted in sharp attention. Baby tilted his head, lips peeling into a smile far too wide, sharp canines flashing. The leech flinched hard, nearly falling off the stool. That finally got your attention. You whipped around with an adorable little glare, ready to scold whoever scared your friend- Only to find yourself face to face with Baby. Silver-blue eyes blinked innocently. Calm expression. Head tilted owlishly as if he were the one surprised to see you.

[muxshwriting]

bruises and a backache

max verstappen x teammate!reader

summary: hiding an injury from your teammate and then proving yourself beyond his overprotective-ness || warnings: bruises, past injury || word count: 1790 || masterlist

Max was pounding at the bathroom door, his blood rushing hot and fast through his body like he’d just stepped out of the cockpit mid-race. His palm slammed flat against the wood again. “Y/N,” he said, voice tight, bordering on frantic. “Open the door.”

The sound of the shower was still running, steam curling out from the cracks in the doorframe, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the noise he’d heard, the unmistakable sound of you stifling a scream. “I’m fine!” you called out, your voice thin and shaking as you tried to steady it. “It's just… a spider.” You try to make it sound casual but it comes out confused and as an almost question.

“A spider?” he repeated, disbelieving. “You’re not scared of spiders.”

You paused, eyes trained on your reflection in the fogged-up mirror. “It just surprised me,” you added quickly, the lie tasting stale on your tongue.

But Max wasn’t letting it go. You could hear him draw in a slow breath through his nose, trying to rein in the panic in his chest. “Please just… unlock the door,” he said, softer now. “Let me see you. Are you hurt?” Your words did nothing to calm Max's racing heart, only serving to make him more concerned. His body slumps forward, trying to be closer to you as his forehead rests on the door. "Can you unlock the door? Let me check you're alright?"

You stared at the lock, heart thudding. You didn’t want to lie to him. Not really. But you also didn’t want the storm you knew was waiting on the other side of that door. “You can't come in,” you tried again, voice light, teasing, desperate. “I'm changing.”

“It's nothing I haven't seen before. I’ve seen you change,” he shot back. “You've got to lie better. What's happening?”

There was a moment of silence before you gave in with a small sigh, walking over and unlocking the door with a soft click. Max watches the shadow retract and as soon as the lock is turned, he was already pushing it open.

You stood there, in your underwear, staring into the mirror, eyes flicking to his reflection as he entered. His gaze dropped to your skin instantly, like it always did, but instead of wandering hands and a smile, all that crossed his face was alarm. Your back still had the scars of childhood races etched onto it but it was now a mess of blooming bruises, angry purples and fading yellows. But Max could instantly tell which ones were new.

You hadn’t even made it into your shower and you were frozen in place like a deer caught in the beam of his attention. Max didn’t say anything at first. Just stared.

Then, quietly; “Where did you get those, schat?”

You closed your eyes for a second and reached for your shirt, fumbling with it as you gave up on pretending you were fine. The ache in your muscles was too much tonight, and your stupid scream had ruined the last of your cover. “They’re from the crash last week,” you said softly. “It’s nothing serious. We checked everything- the medical team checked, everything’s okay. I just knocked them weirdly when I was changing.”

Max’s brows furrowed hard. “We checked?” he echoed. “Who’s we? Does Christian know?”

You hesitated. That was enough of an answer.

“Are you kidding me?” he barked. “Everyone knew except me?”

“I didn’t want to hide it from you-”

“Then why did you?”

“Because you would do exactly this,” you said, voice sharp but tired. “You’d panic. You’d hover. You’d worry and forget how to focus. And I couldn’t do that to you.”

Max exhaled harshly, scrubbing a hand over his face. “You should’ve told me.”

You looked up at him. “I didn’t want you to stop seeing me as your teammate first. I didn’t want to become a problem to manage.”

His expression twisted at that, something between frustration and heartbreak. He stepped forward, his hand brushing your arm carefully.

“You’re never a problem,” he said. “But you are my-" His mind jumped for something that didn't compeltely give the game away to his feelings. There were the countless nights of binging tv shows with you, culred up on on sofas and slipping away into each other's motorhomes. "You're my person. Do you get that? If you’re hurt, I need to know.”

Your shoulders dropped, the weight of the truth finally settling between you. “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Max pulled you close, one hand cradling the back of your neck, the other ghosting over your bruised skin like he wished he could draw the pain out of it. “You don’t have to be sorry,” he murmured. “Just don’t make me find out like this again. I want to worry with you. Not because you shut me out.”

You nodded against his chest. His heartbeat thudded steadily under your ear.

“Okay,” you said. “I promise.”

The paddock buzzed with its usual pre-race energy, mechanics moving like clockwork, journalists circling like flies, engines humming in the distance. You walked toward the Red Bull garage in your race suit, helmet in hand, eyes focused ahead.

Max, of course, was already there. He spotted you immediately and beelined across the garage like a heat-seeking missile. “Morning,” he said casually, walking beside you. “Sleep okay?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Max. Still fine.”

He nodded once, like he didn’t quite believe you. “Did you take the painkillers Christian gave you?”

You gave him a look. “Max.”

“Just checking.”

He hovered as you moved to your station, watching as you adjusted the strap on your suit and flexed your shoulders, testing the pain quietly, discreetly. It twinged, sure, but nothing that would stop you from racing.

Max narrowed his eyes. “Was that a wince?”

“No,” you lied with the confidence of someone who’d already practiced it twice in the mirror. “Just adjusting.”

He didn’t look convinced. “We can still switch you out for Liam, you know. It’s not too late.”

You scoffed and turned to him fully, jabbing your finger into his chest. “Don’t start with that again. I passed medical. I’m cleared. I'm racing.”

Max lifted his hands in surrender but stepped a little closer. “I know. I know. It’s just… I watched the replay again last night.”

You paused. “Why would you do that to yourself? It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was just a racing incident.”

He looked at you like you’d said the dumbest thing imaginable. “Racing incident or not, I nearly lost you.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavier than the sound of pit tools and shouting engineers. You softened, resting your hand on his forearm. “You didn’t. I’m right here.”

He looked down at your hand, then at you again. “Yeah, but I also wasn’t there. I didn’t know. You were hurting and I didn’t see it.”

“And now you do,” you said. “So let me drive, Max. Please. Don’t let this be the thing that makes you forget who I am.”

He stared at you for a moment, searching your face like he could read every inch of emotion you weren’t saying aloud. Then, reluctantly, he nodded.

“Fine,” he said. “But if you so much as blink weirdly on the radio, I’m calling it in.”

You rolled your eyes, lips quirking. “Deal.” You're both hiding small laughs as you part.

As you turned to leave, Max called after you, “And don’t worry about carrying your helmet and your pre-race things again. I told the interns to do it.”

You turned over your shoulder, walking backwards with a smirk. “Max, are you trying to seduce me with team orders?”

He smirked right back, eyes gleaming. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

When you cross the line in first place, the throbbing of your back seems to fade away with the joy of the occassion. Max rounds off the podium but when your parked up in parc ferme, his first thought is to crouch by your car, take your helmet in his own hands and his eyes scanning you like he was reading telemetry. He didn't say anything at first, waiting, not with champagne or celebration in mind.

Just walked up, hands hovering until he gently pulled you into his chest. Not a crushing hug, he knew better, but a steady one. Solid. Careful. Like he was trying to hold you together without hurting you.

“You’re walking a little stiff,” he murmured near your ear, voice just for you.

You let out a soft breath, arms around his waist. “It’s fine. I’m just sore.”

Max pulled back to look at you, eyes narrowed, like he could spot every lie beneath your skin. “Sore how?” he asked, tone more measured now. “Like regular ‘I just drove 300 kilometers’ sore, or ‘I haven’t told my teammate my back’s killing me’ sore?”

You sighed, cheeks flushing. “Don’t do that thing where you read my mind.” He didn’t smile. Not this time. He reached out and gently, so gently, brushed his fingers against your side. When you flinched just slightly, his jaw clenched. “You shouldn’t have pushed it that hard,” he said softly, not angry, just concerned.

“I needed to prove-”

“You don’t need to prove anything to me,” he interrupted. “I don’t care if you finished first or dead last, I just need to know you’re not hurting worse because of it.”

You looked down at your hands, pulling your gloves off gently. “I never need to prove it to you. But it wasn’t that bad, I paced myself, I didn’t take risks. I just… I needed to feel normal.”

Max exhaled slowly, running a hand through his sweat-matted hair. “You are normal. Taking care of yourself doesn’t mean weak.” His voice dropped even lower, quieter now with the noise of the crowd fading in the background. “If you’d told me it was too much, I would’ve been proud of you for stepping out. I need you to remember that, okay?”

You nodded slowly, eyes flicking up to his. “I was careful, Max. I promise. I know I’m not back to 100% yet.”

He searched your face for a long second, then finally gave a small nod of his own. “Alright,” he said. “But you’re icing your back the minute we get to the motorhome. And I’m carrying your suitcase. And I’m not negotiating on either.”

You huffed a quiet laugh. “Yes, Captain Verstappen.”

He smiled this time, just a little. “You can win the race, but I’m still calling the recovery strategy.”

You lean in and almost want to kiss his cheek. “Thanks for watching out for me.”

“Always.” He tilted his head to your waiting team. “Go get 'em.”

[snail-day]

Tummy Ache Survivor

Based in the same AU as this drabble Anesthesia Doctor! Gojo x Reader x Nurse! Geto Tw: Fluffy domestic bliss, tummy aches, established relationship. A/n: I'd imagine reader has a super weak immune system where they have to change their scrubs at work now otherwise you will catch whatever bug they bring home. I think Geto doesn't mind that...because he lowkey enjoys fussing over you.

Tummy aches are the absolute worst. Mostly because you can’t quite place where they come from. Was it that leftover takeout? Something one of your boyfriends dragged home from the hospital? Are you pregnant? WebMD says you’re both pregnant and dying, so that’s fun.

Sure, you could just ask one of them for medical advice. It’s literally their job. They’d probably take one look at you and tell you to take some pepto and chill. But the thought of bringing it up is… humiliating, somehow. Like, yes, hello, my big sexy boyfriend who's seen every internal organ imaginable, please help me with my fragile little tummy ache. No thanks.

So instead, you burrow deeper into the warm sheets of your massive bed. Satoru’s still in the shower, humming off-key. Probably wondering why you haven’t come to join him yet. You just know he’s going to come into the bedroom, dripping wet and pouty, whining about how lonely he was without you in there. Probably tickle you until you're shrieking.

The thought alone makes your stomach churn.

And then there's the smell of Suguru’s cooking. Normally, that scent would have you halfway down the stairs with stars in your eyes. But today? All it does is make the bile climb up your throat.

Must be pregnancy. Or cancer. Or both. Maybe it’s something worse. The internet is not helping.

You close your eyes and prepare to meet your fate.

“Baby?” Satoru calls, water shutting off with a metallic clink. You hear the glass door slide open, followed by the plap plap plap of wet feet on tile, the steam trickling from the bathroom into the bedroom. He’s chuckling now. “Come on, you have to get up.”

Your heart thuds.

Why is being sick so weirdly vulnerable?

“Hellooooo,” he drawls, voice already playful. “You were supposed to join me. I was in there suffering. Naked. Alone. Practically crying.”

You barely stir, tucked so deep in the comforter cocoon that only the bridge of your nose peeks out.

He doesn’t let that stop him. He drops the towel somewhere behind him, no shame in being bare, and climbs onto the bed with a dramatic sigh, knees sinking into the sheets as he looms over your lump of a body.

“Are you mad at me?” he asks sweetly, already halfway through his routine - nose brushing your cheek, lips pressing light kisses to your forehead, wet hair flicking against your skin. “You never miss post-shower snuggles. It’s practically a routine now.”

You groan softly. Not the annoyed kind that he's used to either.

Satoru stills.

He pulls back, not all the way, but just enough to look at you. There’s a subtle shift, barely perceptible to anyone else, but you know him. His playful grin fades into something more focused, less boyfriend and more clinical and doctor like.

“Wait. Baby,” he murmurs, voice dropping an octave. “Are you okay?”

You shake your head weakly.

“Tummy hurts,” you whisper.

He blinks. Once. Twice.

“Where?”

You whimper and gesture vaguely to your lower abdomen.

Immediately, he’s brushing the covers back, not harsh or dramatic, just careful, gentle fingers pushing your shirt up as he scoots closer, settling on his knees beside you. You can feel the warmth of his palm hover just above your skin, his expression focused now, all that boyish teasing gone.

“Is it sharp? Crampy? Nauseating?”

You squint at him.

“Don’t use your doctor voice on me.”

“It’s not a voice, it’s a diagnostic tone,” he says with a straight face, though his lips twitch like he’s holding back a grin. “I’m trying to help, baby.”

His palm presses lightly against your belly. His hands are big, always have been, but now they seem extra warm, fingers splayed wide as he palpates carefully, feeling for any tenderness. He’s quiet while he works, eyes carefully scanning your face as if waiting for you to flinch.

His hair is still dripping, one strand sliding down his cheekbone before he absently flicks it away. His lashes are thick and clumped from the shower, and his cerulean eyes - always so stupidly pretty - are narrowed with gentle concern.

“You feel a little warm,” he mutters, leaning down to kiss your forehead. Then again, to check. Then again, just because he wants to.

“You have a thermometer in the bathroom,” you mumble.

He hums. “Yeah, but my lips are more sensitive. Doctor’s secret.”

You don’t have the energy to fight him on that one.

His hand rubs slow, soothing circles into your belly now, just above your navel.

“You been stressed?” he asks softly, like he already knows the answer. “Suguru said you didn’t eat much dinner last night. And you’ve been chewing your lip again.”

“I have not,” you lie, your lip instantly throbbing in betrayal.

He raises an eyebrow. “You want me to call him in?”

“Noooo.”

“Okay, okay. Just me then,” he says gently, leaning over to nuzzle into your hair. “Just me and my genius medical brain.”

You curl into him as he settles beside you, his arm wrapping around your waist, his skin still warm and faintly damp against your back.

“I’ll keep an eye on you for now,” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “But if it gets worse, I am calling Suguru. And he’s better at the whole bedside stuff, y'know, bullying you into drinking water.”

You groan. “So scary.”

“I know,” he coos, mock-sympathetic as you bury your face into his chest and he exhales, relief softening his posture.

You must’ve drifted off at some point. Somewhere between the soothing rub of Satoru’s hand on your belly and his murmured reassurances into your hair, sleep swept over you with ease. Your tummy still aches a little, but your body finally gives in, tucked safely in Satoru’s arms.

He stays there for a while.

Longer than he probably should, considering Suguru’s downstairs in the kitchen preparing breakfast for three. But he can’t bring himself to move, not when your breathing’s finally evened out, not when your lashes are fanned soft against your cheeks and your fingers are curled loosely in the fabric of bedsheets.

Eventually, though, duty (and the smell of food) calls.

Satoru slips out from under the blanket like a pro, moving slow and careful, even as your hand twitches in protest. He presses a kiss to your forehead and pulls the covers back over your shoulders.

“Doctor’s orders,” he whispers, brushing a stray hair from your face. “Rest. I’ll bring you some toast.”

Downstairs, the clatter of cookware and the faint scent of fried garlic and something sweet fill the kitchen. Suguru’s at the stove, hair tied up in a loose bun, wearing pajamas and an apron. There’s a crease of concentration between his brows as he stirs something in a pan, back turned when Satoru walks in.

“You took your sweet time,” Suguru mutters without looking up. “I was afraid you both got lost." Glancing over his broad shoulder, his voice grows more quiet, "where’s my baby?”

Satoru drops himself onto a bar stool, half naked now thanks to the sweatpants he put on. “Sleeping. Tummy ache.”

Suguru turns, brows immediately furrowing. “What kind of tummy ache?”

“Just a little queasy. Said everything smelled weird, didn’t wanna eat. Was too embarrassed to tell either of us because God forbid she use the fact that she’s dating two medical professionals for her own benefit.”

Suguru sighs through his nose, annoyance already melting into quiet concern. “You check for fever? Tenderness?”

“Yeah. Little warm. No acute pain though. Probably just stress. Or something she ate.”

He nods, turning back to the stove, but you can see it in the set of his shoulders - he’s chewing on it.

“I could’ve made her ginger tea,” he murmurs.

“You still can,” Satoru says, voice gentler now. “I just didn’t wanna wake her. She looked so tired, Suguru.”

There’s a quiet moment. The eggs hiss in the pan. The scent of miso and jasmine rice hangs in the air like a comfort blanket.

“…She didn’t want me?” Suguru asks softly, almost to himself. Violet eyes narrowing down at the eggs. Jealousy hidden in his tone.

Satoru watches him for a second. Then stands.

He walks up behind Suguru and presses his chest to his back, arms wrapping around his waist as he leans down to rest his chin on his shoulder.

“She wanted both of us,” Satoru murmurs into his ear. “But sometimes people don’t know how to ask for help when they feel small.”

Suguru’s hands slow on the spatula.

“…I’ll bring her tea,” he says, voice low. “And the toast you promised.”

“And a kiss,” Satoru adds with a grin.

Suguru climbs the stairs with a tray balanced in one hand - tea steeping, toast buttered lightly, a few cut-up slices of pear arranged on the side like he’s hoping something will tempt your stomach back to life.

He pushes the bedroom door open slowly with his hip.

You’re still curled in the sheets, hair mussed and lashes fluttering as you start to stir. The soft clink of ceramic must’ve pulled you from the edges of sleep, because you shift with a tiny groan, blinking blearily up at the silhouette in the doorway.

“…Toru?” you mumble, voice rough and sweet with sleep.

Suguru almost halts, a bit more frusterated, because why didn't you call him? Why didn't you need him? He’s better at this kind of thing, don't you know?

“…No, angel. Just me,” he says quietly, stepping in. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Your eyes widen a bit when you realize who it is, and you look momentarily sheepish. Guilty, even.

“Oh…” you whisper. “He said he wouldn’t tell you.”

Suguru sets the tray on the nightstand and sits beside you, brows drawing in with something too tender to be disappointment, but too honest to be nothing.

“He didn’t tell me,” he says gently. “I asked.”

You fidget with the corner of the blanket. Not quite meeting his eyes.

“I didn’t mean to keep it from you. I just… I didn’t want to worry you.”

His expression softens completely at that, pain and adoration warring in his chest. He cups your cheek with one hand, thumb brushing under your chin just to get you to look at him.

“Worrying about you is part of the job, baby,” he murmurs. “You don’t have to hide when you’re not feeling good. Not from me.”

You swallow, lips wobbling. Tears threatening. Why does he always make it so hard. “But you made breakfast, and you’re always taking care of everyone, and I know you'd ask those embarrassing questions, like if I - ”

Suguru cuts you off by leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your forehead. Then your cheek. Then the corner of your mouth.

“I want to take care of you,” he whispers, voice thick with feeling. “That’s not a burden, it’s a privilege.”

You sniffle, eyes glossy. “I feel gross. I was gonna throw up earlier.”

He brushes a hand down your side. “And I’d hold your hair back if you did.”

You crumple.

“Don’t make that your romantic line,” you mumble into his chest, and he chuckles softly.

He coaxes you up just enough to sip some tea, holding the cup for you like you’re delicate and precious. Which, to him, you are. You settle into his side as you drink, and he rests his chin on top of your head.

“…Next time,” he says, after a quiet moment, “call for me first. Okay?”

You nod, a little guilty. “Okay.”

He presses another kiss to your crown, arms wrapping around you like he’s keeping all your little broken pieces from spilling out.

“Good girl.”

The next time you wake, the light filtering through the blinds is tinged warm and golden, the kind of hazy evening glow that makes everything feel soft around the edges. You blink slowly, body still heavy, and shift beneath the comforter with a groggy little sigh.

Something’s tucked into your arms.

Not the pillow you remember falling asleep. Your fingers curl instinctively around plush fur and a tiny satin ribbon.

It’s a stuffed animal. A fat, round calico cat with sparkly eyes and a ridiculously oversized head. It smells faintly of Satoru, his cologne and the faint clinical scent of the hospital.

Your heart squeezes a little in your chest.

There’s a folded note pinned between its tiny paws.

“Stopped by on my break. Pedialyte’s in the fridge. Sugu will be back soon. - Toru <3”

You read it twice. Smile once.

The ache in your belly is still there, but somehow… duller now. Softer around the edges. Easier to sit with when you’re wrapped up in blankets, a stuffed cat in your arms, and the quiet knowledge that your boys thought of you, even between patients, even while juggling god knows what in their day.

The apartment is still. Peaceful.

Somewhere in the fridge, there's a bottle of blue Pedialyte with your name on it. And in another hour or so, Suguru will be home too - probably with soup, and a forehead kiss, and a quiet grumble about how they both should’ve stayed home with you.

You pull the stuffed cat closer to your chest and close your eyes again.

Maybe it’s not so bad to admit you have a tummy ache. Not when it means being spoiled so much by them.

[leadyoutothelight]

Please Hold-Part 1

You've only known him as the Lonely Cowboy, the phone sex operator who's titillated your ears for well over a year, indulging in your sexual desires without the messy complications of a physical partnership. But when your diner regulars Sarah and Ellie introduce you to their father, new town transplant Joel Miller, you realize his sinful southern drawl is familiar in all the wrong ways.

Rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, do not use my work to train AI, it will be deleted.

Warnings: Phone sex, Sex work, Fingering, Edging, Masturbation (male and female), Unprotected sex, Dirty talk, a tiny bit of exhibition, Voice kink (come on it's Joel Miller), Pet names, Degradation, Misunderstandings, Unspecified Age Gap *please let me know if I missed anything*

Pairing (No Outbreak AU) Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count: 8k

Note: Um, hi...this came about because honestly the idea of Joel Miller talking you through an orgasm wouldn't leave me alone...So enjoy! Part 2 is in the works!

It’s been a long week, too long, with too many closing shifts and not enough tips. You’re barely scraping by. But a girl has her needs, and you’ve made sure to budget in the money you're about to spend like a kid at a candy store. After stumbling into your apartment, hung up your coat, kicked off your shoes, you wander into the gloom of your bedroom. Still in your waitress uniform, a horrid bright red, white polka-dotted monstrosity, and a short poodle skirt to match. 

It was a staple of the old fifties diner you worked at, that could handle the weird hours you needed while going to the local university, working TA hours, and assisting in other department needs. You sigh, rubbing at your tired eyes, considering for a moment that maybe you’ll just sleep. 

But there’s an ache that’s settled low in your stomach, a warmth spreading since you realized what day it was. Your phone dings in your hand, you know it’s the notification from your email, a reminder sent to yourself about who’s back on the soundboards tonight.

The number is already saved in your phone, has been for about a year, and thankfully you’ve avoided calling it for about a month…after all he’d said he’d be off. 

A quick poke of your finger, and the screen shifts as the phone dials. It rings for a few moments too long, and you worry that…maybe you misheard, misdialed? 

“You’ve reached the Lonely Cowboy, how can I help you tonight?” 

To hear that raspy southern drawl tickle your ear has your toes curling into the softness of the comforter. Breath hitching, a familiar throb settles between your thighs, and it takes every ounce of your self restraint to keep your hand from wandering. 

“Hey Cowboy,” you mummer, bottom lip trapped between your teeth, as he chuckles a fondness filling his voice as he recognizes you. 

“Is that my sweet Cherry Pie?” The way he hums your nickname has you squirming, it’d been too long. You can’t resist any longer, hand wandering down your side finger tips pulling up your skirt. 

“Yes, missed you–” Christ, you’re already breathless, and needy. “Been counting down the days till I could call you again.” Your fingers slip between your thighs, finding the wet spot on your panties. A quick press of your middle finger, pressing the cotton against your clit, you whine.

“Were you a good girl while I was gone?” 

You freeze, blood rushing from your cunt to your head, as you recall your last conversation, last month, right before he told you he’d be out of commission for a month to move. He’d made you swear, before he’d let you cum, you’d be a good girl. That’d you’d wait a whole month without indulging in masturbating without him. You’d been so close to following his instructions…but you’re needy, and had caved about mid way through the month. 

But after that one misstep you’d abstained, now though, the guilt clawing at your innards as you considered lying, but he’d know…he always knew. Maybe it was the inflection of your words, or that little tremor you’d get in your throat. 

“Cherry,” there’s a dangerous lilt to his tone, you imagine him, spread legged in his chair. A fist curled on his thigh, his face shrouded in shadow as you never gave much thought to how he looked, “Were you a good girl while I was gone?” 

“No…” a hushed confession spoken to your phone, your finger halting its feather-soft torture. Yet the ache grows, a heat enveloping your skin. From the top of your head to the tips of your curled toes. Silence stretches between the two of you, and for a panicked moment you think he’s going to hang up. 

But you hear it, his soft sigh through his nose, the clink of a belt buckle, the hush of a zipper. You squirm, waiting for his order, his command. 

“Oh Cherry Pie,” he hums, and you strain to hear it, the telltale noise of his hand stroking his cock. You know he probably does this with his other clients…fists himself into a frenzy, whispering sweet platitudes, and sinful words to whoever is on the other line. But you can’t resist the greedy thought that you’re the only one who’s heard his groan of release. “And here I was…thinking you’d be good.” 

“I–it was one time–” you whimper, head falling back, his voice sends your heartbeat thumping, body writhing as the pulse in your cunt grows. 

“You promised me, no touching yourself till I came back.” His words are low, there’s a growl to his tone, one that sends a spark of pleasure through your clit. Your finger twitches, to rub the little bud, but he hasn’t said you could. 

“Is your hand between your legs?”

“Yes,” you respond in a breathless whine.

“Oh no sweet Cherry,” he rasps, and you whine, “hand by your side.” 

You comply, hand leaving its place between your thighs to rest beside your hip, fingers grip the soft comforter. You’re silent as you listen to the lazy strokes of his fist on his cock. 

“Now, what did you do,” he hums, your stomach swoops as you hear him grunt…wondering if he squeezes the base of his cock to keep himself from cumming too soon. 

“I can’t–”

“Oh you can, or this call is just going to be you listening to me get off how does that sound Cherry?” 

You know he means it, and you know you’ll comply, he’s got you wrapped around his finger and it’s a cosmic joke that you're whipped for a man you’ve never actually seen, much less met. 

“Now, what did you do sugar?” 

Teeth bite your lip, and your legs shift with impatience. Before finally speaking.

“It was a few weeks ago…” you mumble eyes staring up at the popcorn ceiling of your room, the fan humming as it turns, and turns. 

“I had one of our calls saved–” 

“Which one?” 

It surprises you, the sigh of his voice, the way he sounds almost as needy as you, sends a little thrill through you. That maybe he missed you as much as you missed him, though you know it’s not true, but you’ll think about that later…right now you just want a release. 

“The one where you came…and I squirted,” the heat that rises to your cheeks at the admission. Another throb courses through your cunt, a noticeable gush of wetness leaks between your thighs. 

“Fuck,” he rumbles and you whine,you can hear his breathes, shorter, quicker. You almost can’t hear the wet sound of his fist fucking his cock. “What were you thinkin’ about?” 

“You,” a breathless admission, “I was thinking about being on my knees between your thighs, making you cum like that with my mouth.” 

Your thighs tense rubbing together to give yourself some relief. To bring down the ache of your clit, but it’s a losing battle. Your cowboy groans into the receiver, another whispered ‘fuck’. 

“I thought about how badly I needed to feel your cock in me, in my mouth, in my cunt—”

“You can touch yourself,” you almost cry out at that. Your hand is quick, pulling your panties down, your thumb moving on your phone screen and you switch it to speaker. Your fingers eager against your clit, pressing on the nub with a panicked ferocity.

“Did you use a toy?” 

He asks with a moan, and you keen in reply. 

“Yes, I can’t get off with just my fingers–” 

“Wanna use one now?” he grunts, his fist working faster, sweat coats your skin in the late summer night, it has been unseasonably hot this year, and your fingers leave your cunt to strip off the uniform. Removing the outfit is freeing, and after the dress comes your bra, nipples pebbling in the exposed air. 

“Can I?” You ask into the phone, he answers with a strained ‘uh-uh’. You take the chance and scramble to your nightstand, opening the bottom drawer and finding your collection of toys you grab your bullet vibrator. You just need relief, and that’s what this will provide. 

“Got it?” 

You settle back down beside your phone, “Yeah, can I use it?” Another grunt is your affirmation, pressing the button the toy buzzes to life between your fingers. Your other hand goes to your breasts, pinching and toying with your nipples, the touch sending sparks of pleasure coursing down your spine to settle in your stomach.

“What else were you thinking about?” He snarls, you wonder how close he is, how desperate he is, because your thighs are wet with slick, and you know you’ll need to wash your comforter–but that’s not the priority, not right now as you press the bullet to the hood of your clit you almost scream at the pleasure sparks through your body. Back bowing and hips jolting away from the sudden onslaught.

“Fuck!” 

He chuckles, “sensitive Cherry?” 

“It’s been a few weeks, of fucking course I am you ass,” there’s no venom to your words, only a breathless relief as pleasure coils in your belly. He huffs into the receiver, and you can’t help yourself, “how close are you old man?” 

He laughs at the nickname, and you hear his fist slow again, as he pants into the phone. 

“I may be old Cherry, but I could have you screaming all night, now, what else were you thinkin' about?”

You rub the vibrator in slow circles around your clit, whimpering as the vibrations send jolts of sweet pleasure through you, almost too much as your hips jerk away from the sensation. 

“Was thinking about how I’d clean up your cock after you came, how I’d get you hard again and ride you, till you filled me up.” 

You feel it, the cresting pleasure, the overwhelming sensation, your cunt fluttering around nothing, and it makes you want to cry. Cowboy groans his fist going faster, he’s close you hear it in the growl of his voice. 

“Would love to see that, my sweet Cherry Pie riding my cock,” you gasp as the vibrator rubs against your clit just right. “Watch those pretty tits bounce, see your neck all marked up by me.” 

“Fuck, please--please,” your eyes clench shut as you struggle to keep your legs open and your other hand abandons your breasts to toy at your entrance, before slipping two fingers into your soaked cunt. 

“What do you want baby?” he hums into the phone, though you hear the breathlessness of his voice, knowing he’s close. 

“Pleasepleasepleasepleaseletmecum,” a babbled plea as your fingers fuck into your cunt, the wet noises filling the room, and the vibrator edges you closer and closer to breaking. “Please, baby, please.” 

“How could I say no to such a sweet plea?” He groans, and you hear him gasp, you wonder how he looks when he cums. If his mouth drops open, eyes rolling back into his head…if he cums on himself…

“Cum,” you obey without a second thought, vibrator pressed against your clit, and your fingers knuckle deep into your cunt, stroking that spot the tips of your fingers just barely reach. You shriek when it hits you, your back arches off the bed a gush of slick drenches your fingers. Your thighs snap closed, as your hips twitch. 

You pull the vibrator away when it becomes too much, your breasts heave as you come down from your high. You hear Cowboy’s pants as well, both of you stay like that for a moment, listening to each other breathe. You switch off the vibrator, letting it fall to somewhere amongst your blankets. 

“Fuck, I missed you…” 

The words are out before you can stop them, your lips loosened by post coital bliss. You wince as Cowboy chuckles into the phone. His voice whiskey rough, “Missed you too Cherry.”

While his words soothe the sting of embarrassment a bit, the haze of your orgasm is wearing off, and sense is returning full force. You glance at your phone, wincing at the time, you’ve been on the phone for almost forty-five minutes. You don’t have much time left, and no real way of ending the conversation.

“Move went well, I take it?” You change the subject as you sit up, looking around blindly for something to cover yourself with. An oversized t-shirt on the ground catches your eye and you slip it on. 

“Besides a long ass drive across the country, I’ve survived, though moving into another house was something I never want to do again.” He grouses, and now you snicker. 

“You say you’re not an old man yet you complain like one.”  

“I think you like that about me Cherry,” he responds and you smirk. “Besides, I knew I had to be ready for my favorite girl to call.” 

You chuckle, and stretch as you lay beside the phone again. Body loose and boneless now that you’ve finally gotten to hear him again…this is probably some sort of addiction issue but you again push the thought away, glancing at the time on your phone you wince, already getting too close to your max spend you sigh. 

“Gotta go?” 

He asks softly into the phone, you hope that disappointment is real, but you know better. 

“Yeah, but…hey we have next week right?” 

“We do, I always need my weekly slice of Cherry Pie.” 

You know you shouldn’t love the way the nickname slips off his tongue like sweet syrup.

“And I need to get off to my dirty old man,” he chuckles and you sigh. 

“Well, goodnight Cowboy.” 

“Goodnight Cherry.” 

And like that, you're ending the call. You knew you’d be spending a ton on this, a notification from your bank letting you know the payment’s been withdrawn. You lay in the dark quiet of your room, just thinking. 

You’d been calling the Lonely Cowboy for a year now, it’d happened after your most recent breakup. You weren’t a one night stand kind of person,or someone who had a list of people she could rely on for a quickie. 

You were too busy with work, with your degree program…it’d been one of the many reasons your last relationship had gone up in flames. Dude thought he was more important than your future. 

So drunkenly you’d looked up porn…then found the link to the sex phone line…and the rest was history. He was the relief you craved, without all the complications of an actual relationship, and the weirdness of a physical only relationship. 

You sighed, kicking the comforter off your bed, it’s too hot to sleep with one anyways. 

The Pie Hole is located close to the heart of the small university town, one of the last small town restaurants where a lot of the students and families come throughout the week to enjoy greasy, fried food. And a slice of the owner Ned’s homemade pies. It was probably a lot nicer in its heyday. Now it’s a bit rundown, though Ned and his wife, Chuck, have poured a ton of renovations and love and care into the place 

It’s like every diner, clinging to the past 1950’s aesthetic, the black and white checkerboard tiled floors, with matching wallpaper, decorated with black and white photos of old celebrities. The usual faces like Elvis, Frank Sinatra, and other groups you’ve not bothered to pay much attention to. TV’s dot the corners playing old cartoons, or black and white shows, though it’s the same tape, replayed over and over again. Shockingly enough no one’s noticed since you started working here four years ago. 

The glittering red vinyl seats in the booths and the high-tops at the bar. Bright neon signs shine in the windows, baring the diner’s name and advertising the homemade pies, and milkshakes. Finally the pride and joy for Ned is the restored jukebox, with its neon lights, that takes a quarter and it changes whatever is playing over the diner’s speakers. Unless someone decides to pull a prank, like replaying the same song several times…That was a dark day, then it’s cut, and an Ipod is prepped in the back with an oldie's playlist ready to go. 

The Pie Hole has turned into the local hangout, where a lot of students filter in throughout the week, between classes, parties, and everything else college life holds. 

And on a Saturday afternoon, it’s busy, much to your chagrin. You’ve been welcoming regulars, and newbies alike. After all it’s the beginning of the semester and that means families coming with their newly graduated freshman looking to spread their wings and hack it at college life. 

Your arms are sore from carrying trays, and clearing tables. You’ve just managed to take a quick drink break in the kitchen when Kristin rushes in with her notepad and a look of annoyance on her perfectly made-up face. She’s a biomedical law student, and she’s a genius. 

Sometimes you wonder why the hell she came to this university. She easily could have gone to an Ivy league, but you know she preferred to stay closer to home. Her hair is left out and it forms a perfect Afro about her face. She’s wearing the same uniform, bright red with white polka dots, though she’s styled hers with charms and other sparkly additions.

“Jerry, where the hell is my app for table twelve?” 

Jerry, the resident fry cook, has the decency to look sheepish. He’d been buried in his phone, and you raise a brow, watching the exchange. 

“Shit, sorry Kris–” 

“Don’t fuckin’ apologize just get me my app before this fucking old man bites my head off.” Jerry nods quickly and Kristin sighs slumping beside you, taking a swing of your water. Much to your annoyance. 

“You know, you have your own glass somewhere right?” She smirks, leaving a deep red lipstick stain on the rim of your glass. 

“Yeah, but yours is here, and you love swapping spit with me.” She winks and you roll your eyes. 

“Besides your break is over, some of your regulars are here,” her gaze flicks up, and you take a look outside the kitchen window. 

She’s correct, your regulars Sarah and Ellie have settled in their usual booth beside the window looking out at the busy main street road. With a sigh you stand, she gives you a good natured hip bump with a laugh as you grab your notepad and head out to greet them. 

Walking through the busy throng of tables, you pause in your sections, asking the usual questions. Noting who looks ready to head out, and who needs a refill, or who might be interested in a piece of pie. 

Before finally reaching the girls, who both smile as you approach. 

“Hey Sarah, hey Ellie!” 

“Hey Y/n!” Both answer in unison, and it makes you smile. Both girls are sweet, and came to the university when you were in your senior year. They’d been coming to the Pie Hole weekly without fail since, and you’d enjoyed seeing them. 

“You guys excited for your final year?” 

Ellie bounces with excitement nodding her head, “Yes! Then I can get an actual job and my girlfriend Dina and I can get a house–” 

“Have you told Dina this?” Sarah questions with a laugh, and you chuckle as well, Ellie’s cheeks flush as she glares at her sister. From what you’d gathered, they’re not biological, but apparently Ellie had been adopted by Sarah’s father after her mother passed suddenly. 

“I’ll ask her at graduation…” Ellie huffs, and you chuckle, but stop noticing their strange arrangement. Both girls share one side of the table, which you find odd. You gesture to them with a quirked brow. 

“Oh, didn’t we tell you?” Sarah asks, and you tilt your head, again confusion filling you. Trying to recall the last few times they’d been by to eat, they hadn’t mentioned anything that stuck out to you. You notice Ellie’s eyes alight, and Sarah starts to get up, their attention behind you. 

“ 'Scuse me darling,” the voice sends a bolt of heat through you, a familiar tingle begins in your innards. Your knees feel weak for a moment as you turn with a yelp.

Behind you stands the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, clearly older, his deep mahogany eyes take you in. Salt and pepper hair is neatly styled out of his face, a chiseled jaw, covered by a greying scruff of beard. Hands shoved in his jean pockets, you blink finally realizing that you’ve been blocking the booth behind you, gaping like a fish at the poor man before you. 

“Oh, gosh sorry!” You shuffle to the side, and the man offers you a nod, those eyes going to the two girls behind you. Finally a smile lights up his face, as both girls shout an excited, ‘Dad’! 

Okay now you need to know the details of this. As the man settles and offers the girls another smile, they turn to you expectantly. Which brings you back to the present. 

“Y/n, this is our dad Joel,” Sarah introduces, Ellie looks about ready to bounce out of the booth. You smile at her excitement and turn your attention to Joel, who is smiling at his daughters fondly. 

“Oh! Right, this is the mysterious Joel I’ve been hearing about!” Sarah and Ellie had been beside themselves the last few times they’d been to the Pie Hole, excitedly telling you that their father was moving closer to them. 

“Hopefully all good things?” Joel offers with a smile at his girls, which Ellie chuckles at and Sarah rolls her eyes but smiles. 

“No Dad, we told her all the terrible things,” Sarah answers, giving you a mischievous smile that makes you laugh. “Like how you thought NSYNC and the Backstreet Boys were the same.” 

You and Ellie snicker, and Joel winces, “What can I say, the music sounded the same–” 

“Oh, that’s a strike right there,” you joke, and Joel smirks at you. It sends a shiver down your spine, and you take a quick breath to calm yourself. “But since you’re new, I’ll overlook it this time.” 

He chuckles and the way your cunt throbs at the sound has you mortified. The poor man is here to eat with his daughters, who you’ve known for years, and are only a few years younger than you. Calm down! 

“But I swear sir, they’ve been going on and on about their dad moving closer, excited to meet you. Hopefully you’ll be able to handle college town living.” 

“We’ll see, thankfully not living too close to town, but got some land a few miles south.” 

“Ah, smart,” you acknowledge and Joel nods. Feeling the conversation lulling, you take the opportunity to return to your job duties.

“Okay, well now that your Dad is here, your usual milkshakes?” Both girls nod and Joel looks at you once more, his eyes make your heart stutter. It’s embarrassing, you’ve just met the guy, calm the fuck down. 

“And for the gentleman?”

You give him a sweet smile, one you know wins over all the customers that enter the diner, trying very hard to ignore the way those eyes take you in. Lingering a bit too long on the way your uniform tightens at your chest, the cut of the collar opened enough to reveal a modest amount of chest, but nothing scandalous. His smile has softened, and he considers you for a moment.

“Uh, you have any recommendations?”

You notice his voice carries a delicious southern drawl to it, that has your brain short-circuiting, as you fail to recall any of the drink options you’ve known since the first month you started working at the Pie Hole. And something about it feels familiar, a melody from a song you swear you’ve heard before, but the name escapes you.

“Uh–Well,” You huff softly, and remind yourself that right now you are at work and you need to get a grip, because your other tables need to be addressed as well. Finally, your mind restarts and you recall the drink menu. 

“Well if you have a sweet tooth, we have some great milkshakes. My favorite’s the chocolate, but if you’re not in the mood for something that sweet we home make sodas to order, with different syrups.” 

“Really?” His brow quirks, and he gives you a smirk.

You give him another sugar-coated smile and nod. “Any syrup you can think of, we’ve probably got it.” 

He pauses for a moment, glancing over at his daughters before meeting your gaze again, and your knees do that horrid shake that you’re grateful your skirt hides. 

“How about a Shirley Temple?” You give him a nod and glance at your table. 

“The usual milkshakes and a Shirley Temple coming right up. I’ll come back for your order in a sec, girls I can trust you to give him the menu rundown right?” 

Ellie and Sarah nod, and with that you turn and head back to the drink bar to get their order, and the refills done. 

The rest of your shift passes by in a blur, the girls came in close to the end of your shift but as the day slows, and you get their order in, Ellie orders a burger and Sarah gets the chicken tenders, with Joel ordering the chicken and waffles. You get them a plate of fries to share. 

You return as you notice they’ve all settled back in the booth, and the plates before them are mostly clean. Picking up the plates, you catch a bit of the conversation.

“Oh, you have to come with Dina and me to the national park, has some great trails,” Ellie says excitedly as Joel nods. She quiets though as you finish picking up the plates. 

“Well, has anyone saved any room for dessert?” 

Both the girls shake their heads, though Joel is quiet for a moment as he considers the dessert menu to the side. 

“How’s the pie?”

It’s such a simple question, yet the way he says it, the soft hum of his voice. You’re left breathless as those brown eyes meet yours. Tongue tied for a moment you stumble to answer, something about his tone, about the gruff, roughness to his words. As he mutters just beneath his breath, you’re struggling to put a finger on it. But you try to find your voice again.

“Oh–well,” with a huff you straighten, attempting to get some dignity back, “we’re known for our pies. The owner used to be a pastry chef in New York, and his pies are legendary.” 

Joel’s eyes never leave you, and you feel warmth spreading along your cheeks, your neck, heart kicking into overdrive as those warm brown eyes linger on your lips, you notice the slight purse of his own, the tip of his tongue sneaking between them to wet his bottom lip.  Your mind returns to the present as you remember you’re supposed to be recommending a pie, “b–but I have to say my favorites are either the pumpkin, or the apple.” 

Joel smiles, and considers the menu for another moment as you turn to the girls and mouth ‘check’ which they nod. Finally Joel returns his gaze to you. 

“I think I’ll try a slice of cherry pie.” 

It’s like all the air gets sucked from your lungs in a second. As the words leave Joel’s lips, your cunt throbs, and your brain launches you back into last night. On your bed, legs spread with a bullet vibrator pressed to your clit. Eyes rolled back into your skull, and your orgasm teetering dangerously close.

That same voice whispering dirty praises and sinful promises of what he’d do if he could actually touch you. 

You’re brought back by the sound of ceramic shattering on tile and Ellie and Sarah shouting something, Joel surprised and reaching out a hand to you, and the busy diner quieting at the sudden chaos of noises. 

You stand there, frozen, looking between the shocked trio and the broken plates scattered on the floor. 

“Oh my god—” it’s all that comes out of your mouth, you're saved by a frazzled Ned, who came in at some point during the afternoon rush. 

He gives your table an apologetic smile and ushers you to the back kitchen as one of the bus boys scurries over to clean up the shattered plates. He leaves to go deal with your section as you hide in the kitchen.

Mind a whirling mess, all you can think is, Oh my fucking god, he’s Lonely Cowboy and he lives in my town. 

Moving is a bitch, Joel knows this too well, after packing up his house in Austin and stuffing a rusted U-haul with all his worldly possessions and attaching it to his old pick up. The drive had been the easiest part, but the actual process of moving, the paperwork, the sleepless nights trying to find a decent moving company only to come to the conclusion that he needed to just move himself and a few pieces of furniture. It was overwhelming. 

Resettling in a new town, new people, but he’d do it all over again if only to see the way the girls' eyes lit up when he told them he’d bought some land and a house about thirty minutes from their college. Sarah and Ellie had shrieked so loud he was worried he might lose what little hearing he still had in his right ear. 

He’d made it though, and…with the additional funds from his–side hustle, he’d been able to afford a nice home. One where he hoped his girls would visit and maybe live after they finished school, maybe give him a few grand kids that could come stay with him. 

But that was thoughts for the future, right now Joel was just trying to find a new normal. Which he’s struggling to find, now yes, he’s gotten a job with a local construction company. The work is hard but he’s used to it, and it keeps his mind busy. 

Also the hours work…for his other job. Which has become his money maker. 

He’d never thought he’d get into this line of work, being a phone sex operator. But when he’d taken on Ellie, expenses doubled that he wasn’t completely prepared for, and while yes being a contractor paid well enough, he wasn’t able to put as much away for Sarah and Ellie’s futures. 

Especially college, and when both girls showed him their college choices, he’d probably aged a few decades when factoring in the cost. But he didn’t let it show, one night when the girls had been at a sleepover, he’d been doing research on possible extra jobs he could do. 

It’d popped up on Craigslist of all places…and in his desperation he figured it’s not like he’s touching anyone…or them touching him. 

So he applied, got a probationary period and he took off. Maybe it was his charm, the southern drawl, the fact that he didn’t have to look someone in the eye and lie to them about how much he wanted them when he’d rather be doing anything else. But Joel thrived as a phone sex operator. 

And his clients grew, as did the amount he could charge. It was a job, that’s all it was, a way to put more money to the side for Sarah and Ellie’s college fund, and have an emergency stash, because having two teenagers meant you needed to be prepared. Lord knew Ellie was a walking caution sign, and Sarah with her sports injuries…The job helped alleviate the stresses of being a single dad with only one brother to look to for help, and he had his own worries with his own family up in Jackson.

But he grew to enjoy it, getting on the phone with his regulars was one of his favorite parts of the job, but…the night Cherry called a year ago something shifted. With other clients it was easy to whisper sweet nothings, and carnal desires into their ears. Listen to them get off to the sound of his voice. But Cherry, the softness of her voice unsure of herself and what she was doing, the way she all but swooned for him, it changed something in him. 

With Sarah and Ellie being his priority in life, dating just never…worked. He was busy, and he was fine with a woman not being involved in his life, and his hand worked. But then when Cherry became a regular suddenly he’s so hard during the shift he knows she’ll call. That when he hears her voice it’s agony to not cum then and there. 

But then, he moves, and that final call only a month ago…Since then it’s been crickets.He knows he shouldn’t get too in his head about it, clients come and go in this industry. Also from what she’d admitted to him on the phone, he knew she was busy with life, and her outside responsibilities. 

But that last call he’d thought…maybe hoped something would change. The admission that she missed him…how quick he’d been to admit he missed her too. Joel didn’t think he could form an attachment to someone he’d never seen. But every time she called, exactly on the dot, his weariness left him. All he wanted to hear was her voice, asking about her day, her life, whatever she’d tell him. 

He thought about trying to call her back, but both his number and hers were protected, blocked when she called the line. No way to track her, even the email contact was through the agency. So by the second week when her voice hadn’t graced his ear, and he had exhausted all ideas on how to reach her. He’d tried going through the agency, though they only helped in offering for him to lower his price…he’d tired. Cherry’s syrup sweet voice was never on the other line. 

He’d played the call over, and over again. Trying to find when he’d messed up, overstepped that boundary she’d set, maybe it was that he was too domineering? No, her cries of release were anything but fake. Maybe…maybe she was just tired of him, and though he’d never admit it out loud, it hurt. Even her calling to tell him she was done would have been better. But the silence, leaving him hanging on to a rope that’s fraying with every week she doesn’t call. It’s a hell he didn’t think this job would put him through. 

He listens to their calls, the company saving their entire year of communication, studies it, pours over every second of audio, wondering where he fucked up. Hoping he’d hear something, a clue as to what happened. Though he also just listened to her sweet voice, cooing her need, begging him to let her cum. The wet sounds of her fingers in her cunt. Fuck, he missed her, and he had no way of fixing…what ever the hell he broke. 

He sits back at his desk, finishing another call, play by play they ask him what he’s doing/wearing, he gets them off they hang up. He gets paid. It was quick, and dirty, all so that he could sit there and wait. He glanced at the clock, the next hour blocked as always, the last hour of his shift, when she’d call. 

Like clockwork his phone would glow with the call, and he’d answer a bit too breathless, and then he’d hear her sweet voice…but he’s left disappointed when his phone remains quiet. The minutes tick by, and that same dull ache fills him. As the ever-passing hour reveals that she’s not calling, again. 

He sighs, and shuts off his other phone, staring at his computer screen for a few moments. Before with a grunt he stands, and collects his things to go out. 

Visiting the Pie Hole has become one habit that Joel’s managed to keep to, maybe it’s the food…but no, the main reason he keeps coming back is to see you. 

After your first meeting Joel couldn’t lie, you'd made an impression, now…dropping the plates had surprised him, and he’d been a bit worried for you. Though you’d been an apologizing mess, stumbling over your words, a strange nervousness to your voice that he hadn’t noticed before. Sarah and Ellie had both later told him you weren’t jumpy like that. Until they mentioned you were in your final year of your Master’s and had a huge thesis presentation; that might have been the issue. 

So with that in mind he’d come back, and even though you apologized several times again, Joel waved it off and gave you his most charming smile. He noticed at first you seemed–off. Maybe a little wary, but he wanted to show he’s more than happy to forget your first meeting. 

And, he’d never admit it, but Joel was lonely and he enjoyed the attention you paid to him. He’d figured out your schedule, with the help of the other waitress Kristin. Which she’d been a bit too eager to give to him, Joel started showing up to the Pie Hole weekly, and if his schedule allowed it, more. 

He liked watching you leave the table, taking in the way that outfit clung to your hips, your chest, noting which shade of red you painted your lips. The man had developed a crush, and since the client  who’d helped alleviate his sexual frustration had stopped calling Joel was struggling to find a new outlet. 

When he’d arrived at the diner, as usual it’s dead this time of night, save for a few bleary-eyed students, a trucker or two, and the staff. One of which is you, you're stationed at the bar, busily scribbling in what he assumes is your study book. 

You’re leaned over the counter, with just the right angle that Joel can see the tempting swell of cleavage that has him flushing. He feels like a fucking teenager again, the way just seeing a peek of your tits had his cock throbbing. He rushes to his usual booth in your section, it takes a moment before you notice him. 

He gives you an awkward wave, as you flash him one of those wide-mouthed smiles. It makes him smile back, before you head over you’re stopping at the soda bar. Making his now favorite drink, a root beer float. 

He watches your every move the way your fingers flick easily over the spout, the rush of carbonated water filling the soda glass. Filling it just right, then adding the syrup and a small scoop of ice cream, before adding a straw and a maraschino cherry. 

He pretends to read the menu as you approach, he can’t have you seeing the way his eyes track your every movement. The sway of your hips, swishing the skirt, the way your fingers clutch the soda glass. 

He blows out a soft breath between his lips as he considers the menu, even though he already knows what he’s going to get. 

“All by yourself tonight Joel?” 

Your voice sends something through him, a familiar tingle of need that has him dizzy with confusion. Another jolt of his cock, and he shifts in his seat, trying to ignore the growing tightness of his jeans. 

“Yep, Ellie and Dina are out at some party, and Sarah’s with the softball team out of state.” He offers with a smile, he hopes you don’t hear the rasp in his voice. Notice the way his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. 

No, you just flash him that same smile, setting the glass down and taking out your notepad. 

“So what can I get you?” You ask as you ready your pen, poised over the worn yellow lined pages. Joel resists the urge to watch your hands, the way your fingers curl around the pen, the tip of your thumb pressing the clicker with practiced ease. He can’t stop his mind imagining how they’d look around his cock. He forgets how to breathe for a moment as he meets your eyes. 

A curious quirk to your brow that makes him wonder if you see right through him, the old man that’s coming to the same diner almost daily if only to see you. Oh god, it’s sad, even worse he’s using whatever it feels for you to replace the emptiness Cherry is leaving in her wake. He coughs as the silence stretches on a bit too long. 

“Uh, the pot roast stew please,” you give him a smile with a soft laugh. 

“Jeez, have you tried anything else on the menu?” 

It’s a well meaning jab, though Joel feels heat along his neck, and his cock jolts at the sound of your breathless jest, again that twinge of something familiar like he’s heard it before. But can’t place it.

“Heh, can’t say I have, but what can I say: I’m a man of habit.” 

You smile, jotting his order down you give him a wink, before turning and heading back to the kitchen. Your uniform’s poodle skirt swishes just high enough that the bottom swell of your ass peeks just beneath the hem, he thinks for a moment he catches sight of a pair of panties, but it couldn’t be. 

“Jesus,” Joel husks under his breath, trying subtly to adjust, the brush of his palm against his cock sends a sweet tickle of pleasure along his spine. His toes flex in his timberland's as he shifts in his glittery red vinyl booth. Grateful that the few other patrons are so engrossed in their own meals or phones they barely notice his distress. 

He takes out his phone to distract himself, swiping through different apps, trying and failing to forget the sway of your hips, imagining the softness of them against his palms as he fucks into you. The noises you’d make as he pounded you into the table before him, the way your cunt would flutter around his cock as you cum, again, and again.

Fuck. 

He needs to figure out an outlet, that’s not the pretty waitress at the diner he’s frequenting. He’s pulled out of his imaginings when you approach, his food in your hand. Giving him another sweet smile, his cock jumps, he thinks to himself how pretty that red lipstick would look smudged on his shaft, and around your lips. 

“Alrighty, one pot roast stew–” he should have seen it coming, normally he moves his drink away from where you place it on the table, but he’s been so entrapped in his fantasies he neglected to move it. The edge of the plate clinks against the glass, and it’s tumbling into his lap, the chill of the soda against his bulge is startling, he jolts with a swear. 

But you react with a quickness that dumbfounds him, a whispered curse followed by a whimpered chorus of apologies. The towel hanging at your hip is in your fingers, and before he can stop you, your hand is pressing between his legs. 

It’s an innocent caress, you’re trying to clean him of the bubbling soda and melting ice cream. But all his mind–his dick can focus on is the soft press of your fingers against his bulge through his jeans. 

A strangled grunt leaves him, like he’s been wounded as his cock all but pulses beneath your touch. 

“Fuck–Joel I’m so sorry–” your eyes are focused on the wet spot on his crotch, he’s mortified, knowing you’ll feel the outline of his cock straining against the denim of his jeans. Throbbing against every swipe of the towel, the accidental brush of your fingertips against it. 

“S–Stop–Stop, I got it!”

He doesn’t mean for it to sound as venomous as it does, but he can’t…won’t let you feel the way his cock reacts to your touch. You step back, a clear wounded look in your eyes. A flush creeps up his neck, into his cheeks, the other patrons are looking. He needs to leave before you feel it, call him out on it.. He stands without a look he leaves a couple of bucks on the table…more than the spilled drink is worth and stomps out of the diner. 

You call after him, but he ignores it, heading to his truck, the pain between his thighs growing as every part of him begs to turn around. Go back into the diner, press a scalding kiss to your pretty red lips and fuck you atop the table. 

No, he can’t do that–fuck, he won’t do that. You’re a young woman in her prime with plenty of admirers. He sees them in the afternoons, the way other boys watch you too, their lust barely contained…He’s no better then them, salivating after you like a dog in heat. Maybe he’s worse though, after all there’s another girl out there he’d happily drop to his knees and worship. You seem like a nice girl, sweet, maybe a bit naive…But you’re not Cherry, and a part of him winces at that.

The ride home passes too slow, and yet too fast, how he makes it home when all his mind can think about is you, the softness of your hand against his crotch. He can’t recall any of the drive, if he stopped at the lights, or just sped through them.

 Joel stomps into the house, into his bedroom. Undoing his jeans his cock still achingly hard as he spits into his palm he starts at a quick uncoordinated pace. Standing before his unmade bed, he fucks into his hand bottom lip trapped between his lips.

This is just about relief, and all he can think about is you, naked on your knees, lips around his cock. On his bed ass up and spread as he pounds into you, the sweet pretty noises you’d make, the way his name sounds on your lips as you beg him for more. And he’d give it to you, oh fuck, he’d give you anything and everything you asked for.

The sweet flutter of your eyes as he pounds into you, fuck you’d feel so good. He knows you would, knows you would whimper the sweetest things to him, he gasps as he cums with a sudden jolt. 

He pants staring at the splatter of cum painting his comforter and the top of his fingers. His cock softening in his palm, pulses again as he thinks you would clean him, would watch him through your lashes as the sweet little tongue swirled around his fingers sucking him clean. 

“God…dammit.”

He comes back to the diner a week later, again late at night. Cherry still hasn’t called, the guilt he feels has started to overwhelm him. He knows he needs to make things right. Entering the 50’s diner, as usual it’s barren, his heart jolts seeing you’re not there. He sees your friend Kristin, who’s busying herself with some glasses.

The second she sees him though, her eyes widen, and then darken–for a moment he worries that he’s burned this bridge so bad he’ll never see the other side again, and he can’t do that again. Not when the sting of Cherry disappearing is too fresh. But then you appear from the kitchen when you see him, your eyes widen and he holds up his hands in surrender. 

“J–joel–” 

“Can we talk?” 

He finally manages, and you pale, he winces guilt gnawing at his innards as he figures out what to say, how to explain himself. I left so suddenly because I couldn’t stand the thought of you feeling my boner, doesn’t seem like the best way to start an apology. You give a worried look to Kristin, who for all the poison in her gaze gives an encouraging nod in his direction. 

He resists the urge to blow out a breath of relief when you step forward then and go to Ellie, and Sarah’s booth. You sit, the poodle skirt flaring out around your thighs, and his cock jolts, he forces his eyes to lock onto your face. 

Sitting across from you, he clears his throat, considering what he should say, you start. 

“I’m so sorry about last week, I–I have no idea what’s come over me–” 

“Y/n,” saying your name, you stop your fingers fidget on the black table top. Watching him silently as he considers what to say next, “I–I’m so sorry about last week, I shouldn’t have…stormed out the way I did.” 

He scrambles through his mind to find the next words of his apology, as your teeth pull your bottom lip between them. His cock throbs again, as all he can think is how soft it would feel between his teeth. The noises you’d make–focus. 

“I had a bad day at work,” he admits, not his contracting job, no he’s getting tired of the phone job, now that Cherry is well and truly gone. The excitement he had is waning, the money is still fine, but…both his girls are almost done with school. And he’s got enough of a nest egg growing he could leave it, and not have to worry about funds again. “I–I shouldn’t have taken it out on you like that, I’m so sorry.” 

You blink at this hesitating before answering, he jolts when your hand reaches over the table top, your nails are painted with a chipping soft pink nail polish. 

“Let’s start over, hi, I’m Y/N and I work at this diner when I’m not being driven insane by my Master’s program.” You give him a sweet smile, and Joel’s heart stutters, flipping in his chest with glee. He returns the smile and takes your hand in his, noticing how soft–stop it. 

“I’m Joel Miller, cantankerous, I don’t know the difference between NSYNC and Backstreet Boys, and my girls are my world.” 

You giggle at his words, and nod, he doesn’t want to let go of your hand. But you release it, and he lets his return to the table top. Your fingers brush a stray lock of hair from your face. 

“So, can I get you a root beer float, and not spill it on you?” 

“By all means.”  

You stand with a sweet smile, “Okay, be right back, let me just check on my regular and then I’ll get your order?” 

He nods, and turns to look at the menu, though he knows what he’s getting. He feels a relief sweep through him, hopeful that now he can get on the straight and narrow with you. This was a good sign. 

“How’s everything?” 

He listens as you work the only other table in your section. An elderly man sits there, plate half finished, “as always delicious.” 

“Good to hear, you’ll be taking the rest to go?” 

“You know me too well y/n, and of course you’ll be included to come home right?” 

You laugh at the old man’s joke, clearly he’s tried before, but there’s no malice or degradation to the old man’s tone. 

“Mr. Gordon, you know I’m not available for house calls anymore,” he chuckles as you clean away the plates. 

“I know, but you treat me so sweetly, someone has to sweep you up, why not me?” 

Joel doesn’t know why he doesn’t tune out the conversation, maybe it’s the flare of jealousy that courses through him, at you so easily flirting with someone else–an elderly man at that, but your next words have his world collapsing. 

“Oh, hush you dirty old man–” he hears nothing else, he knows those words, he knows your voice. Maybe it’s pitched a bit higher then he remembers or maybe because it’s not garbled by the phone reception. But it’s her–you–fuck–you’re Cherry. 

Joel doesn’t know what to do, all he hears is a ringing in his ears and feels his heart pounding in his chest. Thinks he might pass out if he’s honest for a moment, the world tilting.

But how? When? 

His mouth opens and closes, trying to understand what the hell landed him into this situation.

“Joel?” 

He jumps, startled that you’ve appeared to his side, having finished your exchange with your elderly regular. He hears it then, though he doesn’t want to admit it–fuck he’s been here for  a month, and never—never put two and two together. But he hears it now, the soft lilt to your question, the way Cherry’s words would do the same thing when she–you were unsure. 

He stares for what feels like too long, before he’s muttering a quick apology, an excuse that he’s been called to a job site. He’s pissed, anger flaring through him with a heat that coils in his chest, he gets in his truck with a snarl and slams his palms against the steering wheel, ignoring the way you watch him leave hurt clear in your eyes as he drives away.

[iamthatonefangirl]

I know your reqs are closed but i was thinking about Bucky discovering facetime and how you could call him while he’s busy at work being a congressman and not not being able to resist telling and showing you what he would do to you when you get home😩😩🤍🤍🤍

omg…

maybe you decide to facetime him for the first time while you’re out shopping for clothes or something and you want his opinion. and he’s like, what is this. what is on my screen. why can i see and hear you at the same time. he’s just a little confused. but then he is happy to be able to help you pick out clothes and maybe he encourages you to buy something you wouldn’t normally pick out or something

maybe he starts facetiming you… all the time. because he loves you and wants to see your face and hear your voice whenever he can. lunch break, walking in and out of the office, anything. he just wants to have your presence nearby.

so maybe he starts facetiming you when you’re getting ready. maybe he hides out in his office so he can just watch you get dressed and do your makeup because he wants to.

and then…

maybe he starts getting naughty ideas.

maybe he has to work late and you’re at home already. but he really doesn’t want to work late. so he needs an incentive to work faster (read: he’s not done with his work but he’s horny.)

lucky for him most of the office is empty so he can excuse locking his door and unzipping his pants and facetiming you…

and when you pick up, you’re not expecting to pick up to see him fucking jacking off in his office dear lord

“please, baby? lemme see you…” he moans into the phone

you quickly set up your phone so you can give him a little show…

and you strip sooo slowly it makes him so fucking hard

and maybe you’re wearing that lingerie set you bought when you called him the other day that he insisted on buying for you. you haven’t worn it for him yet, but you are now

“fuck, babydoll…” he’ll moan into the phone. “you look so pretty. can’t wait to come home and see you wearing it for me. wanna see if you’ve soaked your panties just watching me like this.”

“fuck, james…” you moan. you bend over a little bit, a hand on the counter in front of you, making your tits pop as he watches you through the phone. you bring your other hand between your legs

“don’t, babygirl, please? want you to wait for me.”

“you’re not waiting,” you protest without withdrawing your hand from under the lace panties

“please, pretty girl? i’ll make it worth your while… put my mouth on you for hours… then i’ll fuck you til you can’t even say a word…”

god the way he runs his mouth when he’s getting himself off is insane

“promise?”

“promise.” he moans, and so you agree to stop. and then he comes all over himself

and before his brain starts thinking properly again…

“put your fingers in your mouth, baby,” you instruct

oh and he does happily.

“see you when you get home,” you tease, and hang up the phone.

you’re both in for a long night

[ln4z]

but it's the way you smile that does it for me [ 18+ ]

praise, praise, praise, praise!!! team principal!oscar, age gap is not specificed — upto the reader's imagination, mentions of reader having daddy issues

thinking about team principal!oscar know you like the back of his hand. he knows that a pout will form on your lips if the hospitality doesn't have chocolate milk from a particular brand. he knows that you're gonna smile and giggle when he sprays you with champange after winning. he knows that you're gonna sulk about p4. he knows that you sometime get quite after races not because you're tired or upset but because the world was too loud and you need to be in your space.just like now. you won the race, smiled on the podium, giggled exactly the way you do when he sprayed you with champagne. but in your driver's room you were oddly—uncharacteristically quite.

"what's with you?" he says taking the seat on the couch in your driver's room. you already showered and changed into to a brown halter neck top paired with mini white tennis skirt. "what do you mean?" you raised a brow wearing the 81 necklace—the same number he raced for years ago now lies with you. fans think the 81 is for you. but in reality it's about both of you."you're quite." he quipped. "i'm always like that." you continued to pack your suitcase—not sparring a galnce at him. "come here." he said. baffled, when you ignored his call. "i'm talking to you. come here." it was a stricter tone this time. in a tone he knew you would listen. it implied — don't bullshit me right now.

and obviously, obviously you trotted over. letting him place you in lap. his arm immediately snaked behind your bare back like a muscle memory. "talk to me darling, what happened?" and he was back, using the tender tone he always used with you. oscar brushed a strand of your hair out of your face.

"i don't like how the race went." your voice was low—almost ashamed—as you played with the rings on his fingers to avoid eye contact.

"but you won it." he pointed out."i know." you sighed. "but i just don't like how he had to help me to win the race. i can do it in my own." referencing about how 'he' as in your temmate had to put pressure on another driver to stop him from catching up so that you could pull away.

oscar have no idea where—the entire "winning is first place, everything else is loosing" mentality—it comes from. probably from trying to claw your way up into motorsports as a woman. but all he knew was that he had to undo all that mentality etched in you. even if takes all his life.

so his heart breaks a little when you say "i can do it on my own." warm and painfully young doe eyes looking up at him desprate to prove yourself. desperately trying to say, "i am good—please believe me."

"o'my darling." he mumbled against your head. "you don't need to prove that to anyone—specially me." he whispered, voice dipping into something impossibly soft. with your head tucked into the crook of his neck, lips sticky with lip gloss pulled into a pout. oscar could feel the wet faint tacky print near his collarbone. your perfume smelled like trouble—a flirty, powdery floral that always made his head spin.

that damn halter barely holds together behind your neck, the knot sitting pretty just under his jaw as you breathes. and he hates it.no—he loves it.he tilted your chin up with his free hand, forcing you to meet his gaze. "you're a natural on the track, and nothing, not even a little help from your teammate, can change that. you're strong, you're smart, and you're bloody fast. believe in yourself, sweetheart." and that was true. before anything—or anyone—oscar noticed your talent. not your face, your speech, your background, the sway of your hips—nothing, just your pure talent behind the wheel.

"you've earned every bit of that victory," he murmured, his hand sliding down onto your thighs. "you're the one behind the wheel, making the decisions, pushing the car to its limits. no one can take that away from you." he kissed your temple. "and well can you stop moving?" you couldn't help but laugh at his request. "are you really getting horny while trying to comfort me?" you chuckled at the absurdity of the situation. "i'm a man at the end of the day no?" he smirked—somewhat glad that the pout was wiped off of your face.

"can i?" your breath hitched as his hand slipped, under the hem of your skirt. "yeah." you nodded before relaxing into his touch—legs parting slightly. "you know, you earned every inch of that win." he breathed, his voice a low growl. "your skill, your determination—no one can take that away from you." fingers finding the edge of your underwear, tracing the line of them gently, and you shivered in anticipation.

"osc." you whispered as his thumb stroked the sensitive skin. you were wet, and you knew he could feel it. "you're so beautiful when you drive," he said, his voice thick with want. "the way you handle the car, the way you take control . . . it's mesmerizing." his fingers dancing around the your underwear — such a tease, driving you crazy with need.

"you're the best thing that's ever happened to this team" he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "and you do it all on your own. you're not just a pretty face, you're the heart of it all." he pushed aside the fabric, his fingertips grazing the slick warmth. you gasped, arching into his touch.

your breathed hitched—eyes closing in pleasure. his fingers moved with purpose. his thumb found your clit and began to circle—his praises a sweet serendae that made your hips rock against his hand. "this is all yours. this team, me—all yours and your only." he murmured, sliding two fingers inside you, feeling you tighten around him. his breath hot against your skin as he watched yor face contort with pleasure.

your moans grew louder—panting more desperate, as his fingers worked their magic. "you're not just a pretty face. you're a champion. and you're all mine." his teeth grazing your earlobe sent shivers down your spine. oscar knew your orgasm was close. the way your hands cluthes his team-branded polo, the way you arched into him, the way your thighs threatened to shut.

oscar added another finger—all three curling into the right places. it was just a matter of time before his hand was stained with your insides and slick. you could feel your orgasm building—the familiar knot tightening in your core. his words, his touch, it all melded into one overwhelming sensation.

"you're so strong and all mine" he murmured, his fingers sliding in and out of you, his thumb pressing rhythmically on your clit. "so, so strong." your breathe grew heavy as your body began to tremble. "come for me, sweetheart. show me how much you've earned it."

and you complied—orgasm crashing over you like a wave, body shuddering in his embrace. you buried your face in his chest, muffling your voices as you rode out the pleasure. as you came down from your high, oscar held you tight, his hand still resting between yout legs. "you're incredible," he murmured, kissing the top of your head. "and get it drilled into that pretty head of yours yeah? because i don't wanna such crap about ever again—specially from you of all people." his tone was stricter now, almost reprimanding.

"osc." you pouted. "can you not use that tone? you remind me of my father." you added. oscar couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of him. "i was so gentle and yet you accuse me of sounding like your father?" a teasing smirk stretched onto his lips. "excuse me! you need to thank him. if it wasn't for him giving me daddy issues i wouldn't be here—all over you." well, you both ended up laughing at your words.

"mhmm, well i suppose i gotta thank him for two things you and your daddy issues." he kissed your forehead. "i didn't get traumatized for you to make fun of me." you shook your head—all in fun zest.

god, all the points, the materialistic lust—everything be dammed as long as he got you in his arms, all smiling, happy & and content.

[lucidwntrr]

양정원 ───〃 BROUGHT THE HEAT BACK

“noona,” he pouts, pecking you with kisses all over your face, his boner poking right on your cunt, only the thin layers of both your underwear creating a barrier between the two of you. “are you going to make me beg for it.”

── synopsis: a request !! (Please do a sub jungwon fic, I NEEEEDDDDDD it 🙏🏼)

⋆˚꩜｡ pairing: sub!jungwon x dom!reader ⋆˚꩜｡ genre & word count: smut || 2k+ ⋆˚꩜｡ tags: needy jungwon, dry humping, sweaty & hot, noona kink (he would definitely have one), he calls you noona excessively, unprotected sex (wrap it up!), missionary position

it’s so hot.

you’re sweating, constricted, almost claustrophobic and blanketed in a layer of heat. you blearily blink your eyes open, adjusting them to the darkness of the room. it's a struggle when only a sliver of light shines through your window from the moon. the window that was also cracked to let in a slight breeze.

you can feel the most heat radiating against your back, it was burning you up like an oven. that’s when you remembered through your drowsy state that your boyfriend slept over tonight. he lay behind you, body tense, sweating copiously, breathing heavily against your neck, making the strands of hair on your nape stick to your skin. he had his arm slung over your waist and was gripping tightly onto your loose shirt, hands shaky.

“wonnie,” you sleepily whisper. you reach up, attempting to unfurl his fist from your clothing and slightly push him over so you can get just a bit of the cool air. he only tightens his hold.

“noona,” he whimpers, tentatively grinding his hips against your ass.

oh.

“relax love,” you say, trying to turn around and give him comfort, but only end up brushing against jungwon’s bulge and he instinctively pushes forward with a groan.

“what’s going on?” you mumble.

“noona,” he whines again, grabbing onto your waist and pulling you closer. he buries his face into your neck, sending a new wave of uncomfortable heat through your body. “w-when i woke up i was already hard and you were pressed against me.”

you sigh, using your hand to instead caress his arm that held you in place. you can’t ignore how aroused jungwon, his dick poking you is a constant reminder of that.

“i need you,” he whispers, slowly grinding against you again with a tiny moan. “i want-“

“junwon, it’s way too hot to do that right now,” you tenderly say, patting his arm, signaling for him to let you go. “you’re literally burning up,” you continue when he holds you even tighter - a protest against you.

“please, i need you,” he tries again, trailing a hand under your shirt and up to cup one of your breasts.

“you don’t need anything,” you reply, a different type of warmth igniting between your legs, but he doesn’t have to know that. “you’re just horny.”

jungwon huffs with a pout. “i can’t help it,” he says, pressing a kiss to your sweaty neck. “you feel so good against me noona.”

“jungwon, i said-“

“please noona,” he breaths, rubbing against your ass intentionally. “let me fuck you.” he finishes, leaning over to bite your ear.

fuck. you try to contain yourself, stopping yourself from flipping him over and using him until he’s begging you to stop, make him regret his words. as much as you want to do it, it’s just too hot and you know he's just trying to egg you on.

“okay,” you reply nonchalantly.

jungwon pauses, “huh?”

“you can fuck me.”

you feel jungwon’s mouth open and close against your ear, struggling to find his words. “really?” he settles on.

before you can speak, he turns you over and parts your legs, putting himself in between them. he leans down, his face so close to yours that you can feel his wet hair strands tickling your forehead. “you’re really going to let me?”

“yes but-“ you feel jungwon snake his way back up your shirt, his damp hands trailing up and down your sides. you thunk him on the forehead softly. “not right now.”

“noona,” he pouts, pecking you with kisses all over your face, his boner poking right against your heat, only the thin layers of both your underwear creating a barrier between the two of you. “are you going to make me beg for it.”

it’s clear that he won’t move unless you push him off, but despite how hot and sweaty you both were, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. there was a stronger part of you that wants to play this out. the way jungwon is practically begging, excites you.

“we can do just this,” you offer, rolling your hips against his, making jungwon needily moan. “but that’s it, just grinding.”

jungwon eagerly nods, “please.”

you can’t see his face clearly in the semi-dark, but you can bet that his face was deeply flushed, not only from the heat that fills the room, but in arousal. he’s breathing heavily, each pant fanning across your face.

you reach out to lovingly touch his face, the glow of the moon casting a slight shine against it. you weren't surprised to find it was warm. you caress his cheek, jungwon nuzzling into your touch, before sliding your hand up to push his hair back from his sweaty forehead.

jungwon doesn’t move as you map out his face, just holds onto your waist . traveling over his nose, to his jaw, pressing your thumb against his wet bottom lip. your finger coming back moist from him breathing hotly against it.

you wrap an arm around his neck and pull him down into a kiss. jungwon immediately melting into it, all spit and tongue as he hungrily makes out with you. your other hand drags down his bare chest, his abs tensing under your touch as you skim past a nipple.

at the same time, you wrap your legs around his hips and pull him so you were pressed together, no space left between, as you grind up against his throbbing cock. jungwon chokes, hands scrambling to clutch your waist, breaking the kiss to moan into your mouth. “noona,” he whispers, with a breathy voice.

you lean in to kiss him again, taking your time with him this time, despite jungwon’s rising eagerness. he steadily ruts against you as you flick a thumb across his nipple and draw a gasp from him. you circle around the bud, teasing, and jungwon has your hips in an almost bruising hold.

“easy,” you murmur.

jungwon is desperate as he unapologetically whines, his trembling arms, moving from your hips to by your head, barely being able to hold himself up, too wrapped up in pleasure. he’s hot. he’s sweaty. but he can’t stop himself from grinding his aching cock against you.

“noona,” jungwon calls out your name once more, a mantra that he can’t help but repeat.

“yes~” you hum.

“i- i know you said no more than this but-,” he stammers, leaning back and running his hand down your chest to in between your legs. he runs a finger over your underwear, making you shiver, despite it being hot. “you’re clearly turned on too.”

“what are you trying to say,” you ask, raising an eyebrow that jungwon couldn’t see.

“doesn’t that mean you want to fuck me too,” he breaths out. moaning when he slips a hand into your underwear and slides his finger through your wet folds. “hm, noona?”

you chew on your bottom lip to stop yourself from letting a moan slip, shocked at how bold jungwon was being.

“you want to fuck me that bad?” you question, voice strained as he takes his thumb and massages your clit.

“please,” he begs, dipping a finger inside you. the moan you were trying to hide, forcing its way out your throat. “i’ll make you feel so good noona.” you don’t say anything at first, silently grabbing jungwon’s wrist and guiding his hand out of your panties to rest them on the waistband.

“take ‘em off,” you instruct him, to which he happily obliges, sliding them off in record speed. he removes his boxers as well before settling comfortably back in his original position.

“can i,” he pants, massaging the flesh of your sweaty thigh and waiting patiently for you to give him permission. you reach between you both, taking ahold of his cock and aligning it with your entrance, teasing him by dragging the tip through your dripping lips.

“please noona,” he breathily whimpers, body trembling and eyes fluttering as he holds back from pushing into you.

“mm, wanna feel yourself inside me,” you purr, sliding your hand to his hip and pulling him forward.

“yes,” he breaths out, gasping as he slowly sinks into you inch by inch, hands finding solace on your waist.

jungwon was by no means small. he was so thick, that you have to take your time when taking him in, often having to remind jungwon of that. it didn’t bother you too much though, as the feeling of him filling you up was breathtaking every time.

“noona,” he moans, not for the first or last time, as he bottoms out. “you’re so tight noona.” his eyes have rolled back into his head, sucking in his bottom lip as he felt you stretch around his cock.

you hum as jungwon starts to rock his hips in and out, taking his time to feel every inch of you. every push in hitting all the right spots inside you, knocking a choked moan out of you. each motion sending tingles down your spine.

it isn’t until you run a hand up his stomach, that his hips buck roughly into you. he leans down to smash his lips against yours, delving his tongue in to lick around your mouth as he frantically slams his cock into you.

you nip at his bottom lip, making him whimper and drive himself impossibly deeper into you, a loud squelching coming from both of your fluids. the way you were gripping onto his cock so firmly was heavenly to him. every inch of being embraced in your wet and warm heat was bringing him to the edge, and fast.

despite how sweltering it was with you guys fucking like animals, you wrap both your arms around jungwon’s torso to pull him down on top of you.

“noona, it’s so good,” he nearly cries in your ear as he thrusts into you. “y-you’re so tight.”

“you said that already,” you tease, causing jungwon to retaliate with a particularly hard thrust that makes you moan loudly and sink you fingernails into his strong back.

"i love being inside you noona," you can feel him tense under your hands, his thrusts getting sloppier, his orgasm surely getting closer. jungwon could feel the pressure building, his balls tightening as he pumps his cock in you.

“n-noona, im gonna cum,” he announces, as he feverishly fucks you. his hips snap against you, hitting against the deepest part of you over and over again, bringing you to your climax. “i’m gonna cum noona.” he repeats. the sound of skin slapping on skin echoes through the room, mixing with jungwon’s loud moans and groans.

you feel him cum before he can say he’s cumming. continuous spurts of hot cum filling you up deep inside, jungwon grunting, his vision going white, as he weakly thrusts as he cums.

the feeling of him cumming inside send waves of pleasure over you and fuels your own orgasm. jungwon brokenly whining as you clench around him and ride out your high.

jungwon, lays his full, sweaty body against you as he catches his breath. you could feel his heart beating out of his chest and the final twitches of his cock as his cum leaks out of you.

you caress his back gently in comfort, even though you were quite uncomfortable with all the sweat, a deep sigh being heard from jungwon as he gets settled.

“wonnie, we are not falling asleep like this,” you deadpan, tickling his side to make him roll over and you could almost scream with happiness when the cool air from the window hits your skin.

“rude,” is all jungwon says, pouting once again, before falling asleep like he didn’t just wake you up to fuck and making you scoff.

©lucidwntrr est. 2025

[lazysoulwriter]

action, cut, come here. - pedro pascal. ── .✦

requested! thank you. content: husband!pedro x wife!actress!reader, unresolved tension after a fight, they're shooting a romantic scene together, pedro is a menace

The fight wasn’t huge. It was stupid, actually—something about him forgetting to text when he got back from dinner with the director. You didn’t want to be that wife, the clingy one, but you were tired, worried, and he brushed it off.

Now you’re both on set, in costume, in character—supposed to be madly in love and moments away from a kiss that’s going to make it into the trailer.

Perfect.

Pedro walks over to his mark slowly, lazily, like he knows you’re fuming and is thrilled about it. “Morning, mi vida,” he says, voice smooth, low, teasing. You don’t look at him. “Don’t ‘mi vida’ me.”

He leans in just enough so only you can hear. “But that’s what I’m supposed to call you. In the scene, of course.”

You narrow your eyes. He smiles wider. Menace.

When the director calls action, Pedro is all charm. He looks at you like you’re the center of the earth. He touches your waist like he’s never felt silk or skin before. And his eyes? Dark. Hot. Holding yours too long between lines, as if saying are you still mad now, baby? Even when I look at you like this?

The lines blur. You’re not sure when his thumb starts stroking circles into your hip. Or when his mouth gets way too close between sentences.

You’re meant to kiss now. Just one soft, simple kiss. But Pedro leans in slow. Nose brushing yours. Breath warm. His hand slips behind your neck and stays there, just a little tighter than necessary.

Your lips are nearly touching. You’re breathing his air. And then— The director calls cut.

You blink. Pedro smiles, like the devil himself. “Guess we’ll have to do that take again,” he says, smug. “Shame.”

You shove his shoulder lightly. “You’re evil.”

He leans down, whispering into your ear: “You were so mad at me this morning, amor, I had to remind you why you married me.”

You roll your eyes. He kisses your cheek anyway. Soft. Real. And says, “We’ll talk after. I’m sorry, okay?”

You sigh. Still annoyed. But your heart? Already traitorously melting.

“…Do the kiss right next time.” He grins. “Oh, I plan to.”

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

[i-like-loserz]

clean up

cw: explicit (18+), sub!san, idol!san x secret lover!reader, gn!reader, phone sex, masturbation (m), hints of voyeurism (is that how you spell it?), destruction of clothes and accessories, begging, cum eating (sry), mention of public sex and threesomes (will never happen tho)

note: yup, another sub!san moment from yours truly. i blacked out writing this. btw, this is COMPLETELY inspired by @crimsonbubble's post about san and his watch! pls check it out!

masterlist

--

he's panting. filling the air of the hotel room with the sweet sound of his shuttering breaths and the shuffling of his body. his mind swims in a thick cloud of buzzing pleasure and all he can do is whisper his begs in between each hazy breath.

"not yet, baby."

his suit jacket is across the room at the base of his bed next to his forgotten tie and belt. only his undershirt is still on, though messily undone and missing some buttons.

it wasn't from you (as much as you'd like it to be), but from how hot and desperate he's been feeling. all you could do was watch from the other side of the screen as he tugged at his shirt, ruining the perfectly ironed surface without a thought.

"you're being so good for me."

a silver necklace hangs from his neck and settles nicely on his flushed chest, highlighting each huff of breath he takes. you're used to seeing that pendant, shaped in the first letter of your name. sometimes it's in your hand as you pull him closer for a kiss, other times it swings over your face tauntingly as he fucks you against the bed.

now it sits against his sternum, lonely and untouched...

his dress pants are unbuttoned and only pulled down enough to expose his hard cock and the pretty trail of black that leads down to it.

"p-please" his hand, prettily adorned with rings on every other finger, is wrapped around his weeping cock. every so often he has to squeeze himself at the base, begging his own body not to give in, not until you let him.

"be patient."

he's just come back from a TAG Heuer event. an event that you weren't allowed to accompany him to.

thats not new.

it would be bad press to have him seen with someone, especially a love interest, when he's already constantly stealing the show at these places! so the lack of a plus-one ticket is understandable. the issue was that you weren't allowed to travel with him at all.

so that's why he's sitting alone in a hotel room, dressed to the nines (well, undressed now), only to be on a facetime call with you instead of at an afterparty. though its only been a couple of days since he was with you, he missed seeing your face and hearing your voice.

even when it's teasing and denying him his climax.

"again, sannie," even through the speaker, your voice sends shivers through his body as he desperately attempts to hold back from cumming, "go ahead, rub over your tip for me -- nice and slow. imagine it's my tongue on you, licking you just how you like it."

he does as told, thighs trembling as he brushes his thumb against the ridge of his cock. his lips are pink and puffy from how he's been biting at them, trying to hold himself back from cumming.

"m-mfgh." he hasn't been able to say a single coherent thought for a while now. especially when your face hungrily stares back at him as he slowly tortures himself for you.

you know he likes it though. having your eyes on him. prettily watching every small move he makes.

he's already the type that's partial to public sex and occasionally hints at threesomes -- or rather, having a someone outside that's peering in to your perfect bubble (though he's pretty possessive of you so that would never actually happen...). so on nights like these, when he's perfectly spread out for you like a pretty little offering for your curious and lustful eyes, he's especially prone to finishing quickly. and hard.

"now wrap your hand around yourself."

san fists his hand around the tip of his cock before dragging it down his sensitive shaft. he moans loudly from the intense feeling and unconsciously bucks his hips upwards. his body has been thrumming at the edge all night and the perfect tightness of his grip around his cock is almost too much for him to bare.

"speed up."

his hand is already slick from precum and lube, making it easy to slide his fingers over his skin. his thighs tense as he feels himself getting lost in the molten pleasure that spreads through his body.

you have half a mind to screenshot this perfect scene. his glistening eyes, flushed skin, and pretty body, all under your control. but you know how risky that can be and you don't necessarily want anyone to see him like this either.

he is for your eyes only.

"fuck your hand, honey," you encourage, "i want to see you cum all over yourself."

immediately, his hips start to thrust against his slick hand, mindlessly chasing after the orgasm that you've been denying him all night. you can hear the sloppy noises as he jerks himself off and the small whines that flow from his lips as he lets himself go.

"i-im gonna cum, oh my go-- b-baby," he calls out to you, "i'm cumming--!" his abs clench tightly as he reaches the edge, bucking aimlessly as ropes of cum gush all over his hand and nice clothes. his broken whines fill the air as he milks himself dry, fisting himself until there's nothing left.

"aw, baby, you made a mess of yourself," you coo, eating up the way he continues to shake as the cum drips down his cock and over his fingers. he even ended up getting it on his watch, covering the poor thing with white ropes. "you should be more careful when you cum, sannie. look, it's all over the new watch you were gifted."

his tired eyes slowly blink open to see the mess he made. "shit. that was like $4000..."

"why don't you clean it up then?" you suggest, "you should take care of your things, you know~"

"clean? um, should i just use normal soap or would that--"

"lick it up, baby."

he looks down at his wrist, unsure. "l-lick?"

"mhm. be good and fix your mess." you're curious to see if he'll do it. you haven't seen him taste himself yet, but the thought has always been enticing.

obediently, he lifts his arm up to his mouth and slides his pink tongue against the smooth glass. his eyes look up to meet the screen, "like this?" he cleans his watch, but it seems he's more interested in your reaction than the condition of the watch itself.

"good boy." you purr, "maybe next time you can clean me up like that." you can't wait for him to come home.

and neither can he.

"i-i'd like that."

[heartyluv]

Note: Please —Click Here— to read the request! Thank you for sending this in, baelicious! (I think I’m gonna start calling my anons that. Feels more personal LOLLL) Had a little extra time today and this isn’t too long, so I hope that’s okay. I too have larger bewbies, so I completely understand! I hope you enjoy!

Warning: You talk about how much you dislike your boobs (A little self deprecation, I suppose), Caleb calls you pips, boob grabbing, very, very, veryyyy suggestive and a little dirty talk but no actual smut

Caleb/Reader

You were excited about thirty minutes ago when your large and expensive expedited shipment of clothes was delivered to your front door. Unfortunately though, every single bit of that giddiness went down the drain the moment you put on your first piece of clothing.

As someone with more of a…bustier set of breasts, finding clothes that fit nice and looked good on you felt like winning the lottery ten times over.

That’s how obnoxiously rare it was.

But just for once, you let yourself believe that you found a viable solution to your problems when you stumbled upon this clothing brand’s website two weeks ago. They consistently ensured that potential consumers were well aware of their extensive catalog.

It’s supposed to consist of trendy and stylish designs fit for every body type. Not only were they absolute liars, but you were more than willing to drop a one star in their ratings for the ridiculous false advertisement.

No matter what top or dress you slid up, down, and around your torso, all of them refused to cooperate with your boobs. Either they were too tight around your bust and loose everywhere else, or the neckline poorly supported your cleavage.

“Why did I even bother?” you mumbled to yourself as you finished closing the baby blue blouse that was already straining far too much where your breasts sat in your bra. You were not going to be putting a pin in it to keep it tougher. You absolutely refused.

The buttons in the middle were ready to pop open like you were the damn Hulk.

You couldn’t even find it in yourself to be sad—not even disappointed. At this point, you were fucking annoyed.

Just as you turn to the side in the mirror and can evidently see that anyone would get a clear view of your simple black bra—because good luck if you found one you deemed sexy or attractive—through the opening that should be laying flat against you, your boyfriend walks into your shared bedroom.

Caleb whistles flirtatiously as he walks towards you, biting his bottom lip while his eyes look you up and down.

“Don’t even,” you shake your head with a frown. Floored by the way you disregard his obvious and sincere wordless compliment, he tilts his head to the side and stares into your eyes from behind you in the mirror.

“You do know that I’m still going to, right? Because,” he’s pressed against you now, putting his hands on your waist and forcing a smile from you when he kisses your neck. “you should always know how good you look and as your boyfriend, it’s my job to fulfill that duty to its utmost potential.”

“Babe, this doesn’t even look good on me for you to try and act like it’s remotely presentable,” you whine.

“Don’t talk about yourself like that. I will bend you over in front of this mirror and fuck you until it gets foggy if I have to.

“Caleb!” you chuckle with embarrassment, feeling the warmth immediately flood your cheeks. No matter how long you’ve been with this man, you would never get used to how easily he utilized his free will. He’ll tell it how he wants to, and couldn’t care less if anyone thought otherwise.

“Tell me what you don’t like, pips. Clearly, I can’t find the problem.”

“My freakin’ boobs,” you groan, looking at him gawk at his favorite twins on the planet in the full body mirror. “None of the clothes fit how I want them to and it’s because my tits are too damn big!”

“These are the one you were looking forward to?”

“Mhm.” Your lips purse in a pout. “Now I have to return them.”

“Or…not.” His hands reach in front of you and you eye his fingers as they start to undo the buttons slowly.

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure my girls are okay after the way you’ve talked down on them.”

“And what about your main girl?” you tease.

“I’ll take care of all of you at the same time, don’t worry.”

You press your lips together in anticipation when he slides the top down your shoulders, your back instinctively arching when his warm fingertips graze your back in their efforts to undo your bra. Being the experienced individual he is, it feels like only milliseconds before you’re standing in nothing but your panties.

A soft moan falls from your lips when his large and rough yet gentle hands, take hold of your supple mounds, squeezing them and grazing your nipples lovingly.

He presses kisses agasint your skin the more he feels the soft globes in his palms, relishing in their weight.

“You know what I like to do to these, don’t you?” His tone is playful and teasing, yet nothing short of erotic.

“I do.”

“Tell me.” A quick pinch of your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers make you mewl.

“F—fuck them,” you breathe. “You like to fuck them.”

“I do,” he hums in approval. “Maybe I need to. Should make a mess on your tits with my cum so you can see just how perfect they are.”

“Caleb…” Pressing your ass against him and feeling how hard he’s gotten makes you want to take him up on his earlier “threat.”

“We’re gonna keep the clothes, pips. I understand your frustration.” He grinds into you, making your head fall back on his broad shoulder.

“I’ll find someone to fix them for you. Have them corrected to fit exactly how you want.” His breath on your skin makes your pussy clench. “That’s what we’ll do from now on.”

You nod desperately, not trusting yourself to speak properly. How he loves on and takes care of you tends to leave you speechless.

“Get on your knees for me.” Your eyes slowly open when his hands fall from you and butterflies flutter in your gut when he starts to slide your panties down.

“Let me take care of my girls.”

🍎 Tags: @innergardentoadpony @teacupwaifu @mcdepressed290 @calebapplepie @xcelfer @honeymoonfleur @obeythebutler @ajyoursgirl @notsurewhattocallthisblog8888 @honeycrispangels @dummiebunny @sucre-princesse @brailsthesmolgurl @klossnite @grlyeetswrld @beesin03 @dramaticalsachan @moonchildjae00 @caien @stargirlygirl @multisstuff @littledarlingsthings @purpleamethyst25 @lazygelpen @meadowinthesky @grackerzzz @nod4mnm3rcyy @loveinorion @ur-l0cal-crypt1d @inutrasha94 @cowaungabungabby @gravity-pilot @nyanahogini @rosiesluv @goochfiddler99 @torturedbabyapple @kiyadeleine @carcelswaifu @blushofeve @whattnanii @ashirelle @sylvieisoffline @saturnquartz @dewmarionette @sweetcalebb @horanghaeegr @iconoclastoc

♾️ Tags: @starryeyed-apple @asiatic-apple @sensual-study @asiaticapple @raemanova @awquaz @callads7 @floatinginaer @crimsonsylus

Creds to @/cafekitsune for the dividers!

[cybermannete]

meow. - timothy timepiece. (smut.)

i need to fuck this catboy.

contains: smut, dominant reader, heavily submissive timothy, handjobs, a lot of "good kitty"s, timothy being a whiny bratty bottom.

You hated that damn clock.

It was an old clock your grandmother had. It was a family heirloom, and it freaked you out ever since you were a child. You remember being at your grandmother's house and crying every time you had to walk past it to go to the bathroom.

And surprise, surprise, when your grandmother died, guess who was given the clock? You. Your grandmother was a lovely woman, but when you opened the box with that damn cat clock with its moving eyes and tail, you swear you threw up in your mouth a little. Of course, you weren't going to ignore it and store it away to grab dust. Your grandmother would be ashamed. You ignored the clock, and you did your best to tune out the constant ticking of that clock.

You hated that damn clock.

When the Dateviators showed up to your front door, you were heavily debating if these things were even worth it. Come on, glasses that would bring alive your household objects?

Then you took one look at that clock and you were done for. Even when Timothy scolded you for being late, or he would whine and grab his tail like an impatient child, you would find yourself growing hot under the collar and having a small desire to pet him behind the ears and call him a good boy.

You hated that damn clock.

"No! No, no no!" Timothy's whiny voice exclaimed as you showed up late to have yet another conversation with him. His ear twitched and his nose scrunched up as he angrily gazed at his pocket watch. "I told you noon! I thought we agreed you'd show up at noon!"

You release a heavy sigh, rolling your eyes. "Timothy- It was just a minute late."

Timothy huffed and stomped his foot a bit, "A minute late might as well be an hour late! You were supposed to be here either ten minutes before or right on time!" He scolded, as he grabbed his tail in sheer anger. You noticed how his cheeks flushed red from exasperation.

You release another heavy sigh, already growing regret of this conversation. "Can you please just let this go this one time?" You ask, your voice laced with irritation at his childish antics. "It was just a minute. It's not like I didn't show up at all."

Again, Timothy stomped his foot, and he turned his nose up at you. "You might as well have not shown up!" You noticed how panicked he looked, like his entire schedule (or shhedule, as he liked to call it.) had been completely destroyed. You actually felt a bit of pity for him. "From the beginning I told you to make it to your appointments on time!"

You hated that damn clock.

"Okay. Okay." You whisper, holding up your hands in surrender, ultimately giving into Timothy's demands and his.. intense scheduling issues. ".. I'm sorry, alright? It was an accident. I won't do it again." You took a step forward, your hand cupping his face reassuringly as your thumb brushed over the whiskers on his face. You watched as he melted under your touch, his panicked expression turning into one of content. He made a happy whining sound that resonated in the back of his throat.

".. it's fine. Just don't do it again, okay?" Timothy answered, his lips pouting as he continued to push his cheek into your hand.

You couldn't resist toying with him even just for a little bit. A smirk quirked your lips as you reached your thumb out to brush along Timothy's lower lip. "But you're just so cute when you're all angry. All whiny and complaining."

Timothy's mouth opened a bit as your thumb brushed over his lip, and you could see the tiny point of his sharp canines poking out. It was adorable, really. "Stop it-" He huffed, grabbing his tail again. Your presence getting closer to Timothy caused him to back up against the wall. You had him right where you wanted him. Already he was blushing and whining like a brat.

"I thought you were a good kitty, Timothy.." Your voice cooed at him, causing him to grip his tail tighter out of nerves. You noticed how he trembled and bit back a whine as you called him a "good kitty". That was his weak point. Deep down, he wanted nothing more than to lay sprawled in front of you and be good for you, his owner.

He huffed in defiance. "I am a good kitty! I always am!" His breath hitched as your lips made contact with his neck, ever so gently and sweetly. You were kissing underneath his jaw, on a particularly soft spot that made him bite his lip and tremble.

"Well your attitude's telling me otherwise, Timothy.. you're acting all defiant and acting like you're in charge." Your hand trailed along his dress pants, where you could feel just how tight they were getting. And there it was. His weakness.

You. How you cooed so perfectly into his ear, put him right in his place.

"I am not-!" Timothy exclaimed, whining as your fingers slipped down the waistband on his pants. His eyes were shut, almost like he was too embarrassed to look at what you were doing to him. Your fingers finally found his already pulsating, eager cock.

"You're eager, aren't you? Like a good kitty." You crooned, as your fingers gingerly wrapped around him. Timothy's body shuddered and he bit back a mewl.

"Th-This wasn't on my schedule." Timothy's voice was hoarse from struggling to keep himself quiet, as well as trying to prove a point to you.

"Well, sometimes schedules can be broken." You answer as your fingers made work of him, slowly pumping up and down. It was painfully slow, Timothy's eyes shutting and puffs of breath leaving his eager lips. You lean in close to his ear, kissing the shell of it and murmuring. "There you go.."

Your hand's speed picked up, Timothy's claw-like fingers clutching the wall behind him in both agony from how slow you were going, as well as restraint from pouncing on you. But yet, he knew that at the end of the day, he was at your mercy.

"Come onnn..!" Timothy whined, rolling his hips up into your hand. "Please.. I've been a good kitty, right? I-I'm a good kitty."

You shook your head, Timothy crying out from losing his patience. "No no.. I don't think you've earned it yet, Timothy.." Your hand slows again, and Timothy cries and stamps his foot.

You loved that damn clock.

[hearts4hughes]

PLEASE some rafe is an asshole to everyone but reader fluff!!!!

everyone hates him. your friends think he’s rude. your neighbor crosses the street when he sees him coming. even the barista at that coffee shop on main visibly flinched when rafe smirked and said “don’t fuck up her drink again.”

and okay, fine, he can be a dick—he likes being a dick. it gets him what he wants faster, and he hates small talk, and he genuinely doesn’t care if anyone likes him—as long as you do. and you do.

you hear his voice before you round the corner. it’s sharp, disdain curling off every syllable. whatever conversation was happening on the boneyard bench before you got there has clearly gone downhill fast.

“jesus, topper,” rafe snaps, “do you ever think before you open your mouth?”

topper’s standing, arms out like he’s trying to defend himself, but rafe’s leaned back on the bench, legs wide, jaw tight, murder in his eyes. you pause for half a second. then you move. without saying a word, you slip between them and drop onto the bench beside rafe. it’s casual, innocent, like you didn’t just sit next to a loaded weapon.

he doesn’t react right away. not verbally, at least. but his hand finds your knee almost instantly. it settles there like it belongs, thumb rubbing over your skin in a slow circle. like he wasn’t just seconds away from strangling his childhood best friend.

topper blinks. “oh. hey.”

you give him a polite smile. “hi.”

rafe doesn’t look at topper again. he doesn’t need to. the shift in him is obvious, almost absurd. his posture eases, his voice drops an octave. “hi, baby,” he says, like the word tastes good.

“hi, rafey.” you blush with a grin. “you done verbally assaulting your friends?”

“depends,” he mutters. “you gonna keep me from finishing the job?” you roll your eyes, but your hand slips into his anyway, fingers threading through his lazily. he squeezes once, like he’s already won something. “he was being an idiot,” rafe mutters under his breath, mostly to you now. “saying dumb shit like you wouldn’t be able to handle…”

“handle what?”

“nothing,” topper cuts in quickly. “it was a joke, dude.”

rafe levels him with a look that could kill a lesser man. “it wasn’t funny,” he says flatly. then, turning to you, he melts. his eyes soften, his lips curl into a smile. “you okay?”

you nod. “just tired.” rafe hums in reply. his hand moves, slides around your shoulders like it’s second nature, pulling you closer. you end up curled into his side, chin tucked near his collarbone, and he kisses the top of your head like it’s just another tuesday.

“rest,” he says, mouth brushing your hair. “i’ll deal with him.”

“you’re so dramatic,” you murmur, voice muffled by his shirt.

he smirks. “you like it.” god help you, you do.

topper stands awkwardly for another beat, then finally mutters, “i’ll just…go.”

“great idea,” rafe calls lazily, already playing with the hem of your sleeve like he didn’t just verbally eviscerate someone two minutes ago. as soon as topper’s gone, he exhales—long and slow—and rests his cheek against your head. “thanks for saving his life,” he murmurs. “i was close.”

“you’re awful.”

“i know,” he whispers. “but i’m nice to you.” it’s true, and when rafe is nice, it’s not performative—it’s real. it’s in the way he runs his fingers through your hair, in the way he always has a hoodie for you before you ask, in the way he’d go to war for you and sleep soundly after.

rafe cameron is an asshole to everyone—except you. and he doesn’t even knows how not to love you.

taglist ~ @ren-ni @bungurus @kayperrysinging @cupids-diner @mojitrvo @babygirlboeser @makiplan @ladyatwalmart @qversazex @nothingtosee333her @soft-starr @f10werfae @brennanyay @grungefck @kravinoffswife @restinpaece @illumoria @meetmeintheemeraldpool @miaaaoa @imtalkinnonsense @strawberrymilk99 @angel06babysworld @rafesteddy @drewrry @urcoolgf @thegirlnextdoorssister @sydneysslove @dsfault @missabsey @ivysturnss @kisses4rafey @katiebby04

[mona-risms]

Imagine being Zoey's older sibling who lives all the way in America. When you visit your younger sister in the Huntrix penthouse someone else opens the door and you just see this purple-haired woman staring at you with parted lips. Whether she was staring in curiosity or in awe, you have no idea and you had no time to figure it out because suddenly Zoey is squealing and tackling you.

You already know who this purple-haired person is—Zoey's ABSOLUTELY very much overshared to you about Rumi and Mira from every time the two of you text (though 'texting' would be a generous term sometimes when she sends you photos of her entire life half the time) or call—but seeing her face to face doesn't actually do it all justice

And it's the same with Rumi, with how she KNOWS of you, knows a LOT about you thanks to Zoey again, and she's definitely seen what you look like (and tbh embarrassingly asked for a second look the first time Zoey ever showed them a pic of you) but oh. Oh fuck. Zoey didn't say anything about you having a whole other effect to you when seen face to face

Zoey is a whirlwind though bc HELLO??? THIS IS HER OLDER SISTER!!!! GUYS!!!!! DID YOU KNOW THIS IS HER OLDER SISTER BC EITHER WAY SHE'S GONNA INTRODUCE YOU!!!! But it's like nothing goes in Rumi's ear and stays there bc this woman's absolutely stunned at the look of you. The only time she actually manages to tune in is when Mira points out how Rumi's been dying to meet Zoey's sister 😜😜 which she's all wishy-washy about ("NO. I MEAN YES. I MEAN--") and it's such an endearing sight that you can't help but laugh, which only makes her eyes widen more because ohmygoodness you have a really pretty laugh (and for those who have uglyass laughs like me, it literally does NOT matter to her bc this woman's enough of a loser not to care)

The whole time you're staying there at the penthouse bc Zoey insists you CANNOT stay at some hotel when your younger sister has space in her bed "obviously!!!! Like old times!!!!!!!", and whenever Rumi forgets to act like a competent human being, she cannot help but sometimes stare and go out of her way to make you comfortable in that loserass way. And whenever she hears you speak or laugh or even look at her with a smile, even if it's just over something simple as you taking over with washing the dishes, she gets really nervous it's so funny to watch. She's just so stunned please can anyone blame her?????

(At the sight of this, Zoey goes on about how Rumi could be her future sister in law and she moves/teleports to shut her up so fast 😭😭😭)

[dawngyu]

‎₊ ˚ ⊹ ིྀ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐅𝐈𝐓

pairing: slytherin!kai x gryffindor!reader

He was supposed to look away. He was never supposed to crave the one who didn't belong.

warnings: hogwarts au, set in college age, romance redemption, strangers to lovers, pureblood/halfblood societal norms, mdni. bullying!, family!trauma.

smutwarnings: virginity-loss, missionary, oral!fem receiving.

wc: 10k — playlist

𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌: so happy to be part of this event! thank you to my girls, rain, ash yun and nina for being awesome ily all ^.^ see the event masterlist here.

He grips the back of her head, his fingers sinking into her hair as he thrusts into her with a steady, punishing rhythm. Skin into skin. Her soft moans turn ragged, a needy, breathless chorus in the dimly lit room. The air is thick with the cloying scent of her perfume, almost too sweet, making his head swim.

“m-more, Kai, please,” she whimpers, her nails scraping at his shoulders, her legs tightening around his hips.

He smirks. They always beg the same way.

He watches her, how her lips part with every gasp, her brows knit in desperate pleasure but as she reaches up, her fingers brushing against his jaw, he knows what she’s after.

A kiss.

He shoves her hand down, ignoring the flash of irritation in her eyes. He doesn’t want to see that. He doesn’t want to see anything but her writhing beneath him as he chases his own high.

He keeps pounding into her, the bed creaking under them, her breaths turning into sharp cries. When he feels himself tip over the edge, he holds her hips still, burying himself to the hilt as he cums hard into the condom. He stays there for a moment, head bowed, catching his breath. He pulls out and steps back, his chest heaving. She lies flushed and trembling, a sheen of sweat on her skin, her hair a tangled mess. He’s already made her release twice tonight, but he can’t find it in himself to press his lips to hers.

A line he never crosses.

She sits up, tugging down the hem of her uniform skirt, smoothing it over her thighs. She ties her hair back in a tight ponytail, her green scarf slightly wrinkled. She watches him with narrowed eyes, her lips still parted and pink. “Why don’t you ever kiss me?” Yunjin says finally, her tone somewhere between curiosity and frustration. “I used to think it was just me… but I talked to some of the other girls you’ve hooked up with. You never kiss them either.”

He shrugs, his eyes heavy-lidded and dark as he tugs on his jeans. “Should I?”

“Asshole.” Yunjin’s voice is clipped, her eyes sharp with hurt as she stands up. She can’t let him be the one to leave first, not tonight. She smooths down her skirt and grabs her bag, shoulders squared as she heads for the door.

Heuning Kai just watches her, his lips quirking into a lazy smirk. He’s known her since their first year, long enough to read every flicker of her mood, how she tries to cover her hurt with anger, how she thinks he can’t see it.

He doesn’t bother trying to stop her. He doesn’t have to.

She leaves with her head high and her footsteps light, and he doesn’t move until the door clicks shut behind her. He shakes his head, a small huff under his breath as he stands and tugs his jeans back up, his shirt still undone.

Kissing. It’s always been too intimate, too close; something that feels like more than he can give. He’s never been interested in playing at something deeper than what they already have. He’s never found the will to do it.

He glances at the rumpled sheets. He will need to have them smoothed out, made right again. Things should be neat, aligned.

He has always hated disorder, the way it jars the symmetry he craves.

He strides through the grand halls with the effortless poise of someone who believes the castle itself was built for him. Every step is confident, his polished shoes clicking softly on the stone floor. When someone calls his name, he turns enough to flash them a half-look. His name is on everyone’s lips. His robes are cut to perfection, dark green and silver threads woven just so, a mark of being a pureblood heir and wealth. He sees the girls watching from the corners, cheeks flushed. Some whisper to each other, others just stare in open admiration. The boys in his own house, look at him with a mix of camaraderie and begrudging deference. They share the same colors and the same crest, but not the same steep.

He doesn’t slow down for them. The air around him seems to shimmer with an arrogance that doesn’t need to be spoken aloud.

Everyone knows who he is and what he represents.

He’s about to turn the corner when someone barrels into his shoulder. He glances up, finding himself face-to-face with a student dressed in vivid red.

A Gryffindor.

“Honestly, must you always be this clumsy?” Kai sneers, his voice dripping with scorn as he glares at the boy. There’s no kindness in his eyes, just the sharp gleam of someone who delights in cutting others down. He’s never had patience for Gryffindors, the way they strut around, so certain of their own virtue, as if bravery alone could make them special.

“Watch where you’re going next time,” he adds with a thin smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Or did you leave that famous Gryffindor courage somewhere behind you?”

He hates their pride, their blind sense of righteousness. It’s always been a sore spot for him — the ones in this house always seem so sure of their own moral, so quick to wear it like a crown. They don’t understand real power. They don’t understand how quickly their loud ideals can be torn apart.

“Careful,” he murmurs. “Not everyone here is as forgiving as I am.”

The Gryffindor boy shoves his hands down into his pockets and walks off without a word. Kai’s smirk falters, turning into a disappointed scowl when he realizes he won’t get the reaction he was hoping for.

He turns back to his locker, swinging the door open and rifling through his books. His fingers move. A sudden burst of laughter echoes from the other side of the hallway, loud and grating. He can’t see them, but the harsh, triumphant cackle is enough. Another group of Gryffindors, undoubtedly.

He hates how their lockers are practically pressed up against his own. How he has to see them every day, laughing like the world is theirs for the taking. It makes his skin prickle with annoyance.

He heard them leave.

With a grunt, he shut his own locker and started toward his first class, but not without catching a faint, choked sound from the direction of the lockers he hated so much.

It’s not that he’s curious. It’s not that he wants to see it.

It’s just that it’s on his way, like a grain of sand stuck in his shoe, like a pedestrian standing in the road he needs to cross. A path he has to take, whether he likes it or not.

At the end of the row, a girl is crumpled in defense, her face hidden in her hands. Her shoulders are trembling, the soft, broken sounds slipping past her lips even as she tries to swallow them down. Even from here, he could see the ache written in the curve of her back, in the way her breath hitched and faltered. The world feels too bright around, the hallway too bright and uncaring.

He breathes.

How hurt must she be to let someone else see her so wrecked, so undone?

"I am not the Darkling" he said softly, his eyes searching mine. "I am not the monster you think I am."

You echo the words under your breath, the pages of your battered book trembling slightly in your hands. You feel your eyes burn, but you don't dare blink. The darkling tried dragged her into the dark, but it was her light, Alina, that ended up swallowing him whole.

Fairy tales for the lonely. Lies stitched into paper and ink. Because in the real world, no one survives being consumed by someone else.

And no one asks to be.

“Hey.” You hear your name. When you glance up, Chae Won is standing over you, eyes sharp with contempt.

She’s supposed to be your friend. A fellow Gryffindor.

Without warning, she snatches the book from your hands and grabs your wrist, yanking you up from where you’d been sitting quietly on the floor. “Can we just stop this, please? I—”

“Stop what?” she snaps, already stepping closer. “Crying to Jay? Playing the victim again?” His name stops you cold.

She doesn’t let up. Her hand fists your hair, enough to hurt. “Do you forget you’re a Muggle-born?” she hisses. “And him? He’s everything people want. We were fine before you. You just had to show up, cry to him like some helpless little thing, and now he thinks you're this princess he has to save.”

Chae Won shoves you hard against the lockers. The metal slams cold into your back, the sound echoing down the empty hallway. She leans in, eyes burning, and says the one thing that never stops hurting, no matter how many times you've heard it. “You’re dirty.”

And just like that, you’re six again.

Not here. Not now. But back in that cold, too-quiet house where no one looked like you. Where you sat at the dinner table and watched mouths move around you like you weren’t even there. Where you learned, early and without being told, how to be invisible.

Where no one taught you how to belong.

You don’t say anything. The words are there, caught in your throat, but they taste like shame. They always have.

The afterthought. The charity case. Strange eyes. Odd temper.

You were the one who showed up on the doorstep with nothing but a trunk and a name no one knew how to say. You tried your best to earn your place, to blend in, to make yourself useful, but they still looked at you like you were something foreign. Something misplaced.

In the darkest corners of the night, you wished you’d never gotten the letter. That magic had skipped over you. That your name had never burned through that parchment. Never touched a wand. Maybe then, you could’ve had a normal life. One where you didn’t have to watch your adopted siblings shine in a world that only ever dimmed you.

Because then maybe, just maybe, you’d get to be normal.

Not this. Not the ghost haunting a place that was never yours. Not the muggle-born mistake among children who made spells sing on their tongues, while yours stuttered, cracked, and bled.

You didn’t even feel that you were crying.

Chaewon stares down at you with a cruel smirk, almost entertained by your tears. You’re frozen, your chest tightening, looking like a ghost of yourself. Pathetic. That’s probably what she’s thinking. Then she shoves you again hard. Your body hits the cold locker room tiles with a sickening thud, pain through your spine. You flinch, but you don’t even try to get up.

“Tell anyone,” she sneers, leaning down. “and you’ll regret it.”

They left you right after that.

No one would believe it anyway. You’ve spent your whole life fighting, pretending you're fine, building yourself up just to keep surviving. You wear strength like armor. But now?

Now you’re nothing but shattered pieces on the floor. No one saw you break. No one knows how hard you cried.

No one fucking knows.

"What?" Your voice comes out sharper than you meant, caught off guard.

It was the morning after — after everything and Jay had found you outside like he always does. The golden boy of Gryffindor, the one everyone seemed to adore without question. For months, he'd been chasing you. Sweet smiles, thoughtful words, persistent in his way. He asked you out more times than you could count and a month ago, you said yes.

That was why Chaewon hated you more now than ever.

Jay leans in across the picnic table, casual and unbothered like nothing had shifted in your world. Like you hadn’t spent the night before crumpled on a locker room floor, swallowing sobs and blood.

"I said you should sneak into my dorm later," he repeats. You blink at him. You had planned this picnic, thought maybe today would give you a moment of peace. A needed softness, but now his words float in the air like smoke, invasive and unexpected. He doesn’t notice the way your hands tremble slightly. Or if he does, he says nothing.

You swallow hard.

"Why would I do that? I could get caught," you say, your voice uneasy, the words tumbling out. Jay laughs, it was as if your nerves are a joke to him.

"Come on," he says, grinning. "It’s been a month now. I wanna be with you. Do that thing with you."

Your stomach turns. You might be naive but you’re not stupid. You open your mouth to say something, to maybe ask what he really means, to question the way he’s looking at you like he’s owed something, but he cuts you off. "If you really liked me, you’d do it too. You know?"

You look at him, stunned, like a deer caught in headlights. The boy you thought wanted you for you is now dangling your feelings like bait on a hook. "That... that won’t prove if I like you or not,"

"What do you mean?" he asks, brows furrowing. "So you don’t wanna do it?"

"Of course I would," you say quickly, your throat tightening. "But not right—"

"Not right now?" He scoffs, shaking his head. "That’s always your excuse."

"Excuse?"

He leans back, annoyed. "You know, if you don’t want me, just say it."

You freeze. His next words come out in a bitter, quiet mumble, like he doesn’t even realize he’s saying them aloud. "If this wasn’t for a stupid bet, I wouldn’t—"

"What?" Your voice is almost breathless. Cold rushes through your chest like someone ripped the air straight from your lungs. He doesn’t answer. His eyes widen, just for a second — just long enough to tell you everything you needed to know.

Your mind races. You remember the guilt that bloomed in your chest every time you turned him down, thinking you were the one being difficult. You remember how sad he looked when you said no, how it made you feel like you were failing him. How you apologized for it, over and over, thinking you were the one ruining things.

You remember trying, really trying to open up. The effort it took to prioritize someone else's wants over your own. The nights you rehearsed words in your head, how to say things gently, carefully, so he wouldn't feel rejected. You remember the ache of being left out, how his friends would talk around you like you were invisible. The silence when you spoke. The forced smiles when they laughed at jokes you didn’t understand because they were never meant for you.

You remember Chaewon's cruelty and you remember convincing yourself it was all worth it because he chose you.

"I was a fucking bet?" Your voice comes out hoarse. You stare at him, this boy who once looked like something good. Something kind. All that softness you thought you saw in him feels like a lie now.

You can feel the fire start to rise in your blood. You wore the same house colors.

"I—It was from the start, but then—"

“We’re done.” A blade slipped between the ribs.

You stand, your eyes focused on anything but him. You don’t look at the people beginning to notice, don’t care about the whispers. Your chest is hollow and screaming, but your face doesn’t show it. You walk the grounds like your heart isn’t shattering with every step.

You feel him behind you, his frantic footsteps, his form clinging to your shadow. You feel the stares, the weight of every eye on you.

"Can we please talk?" he pleads, his hand wraps around your wrist.

You turn your head and slap his face so hard it echoes. He doesn’t even get to process it before your foot collides with his, a sharp kick that throws him off balance. Pain, humiliation — all of it written across his face now for everyone to see.

“I said we’re done.” Your voice cracks but not out of weakness. It cracks from the sheer force of holding back everything you could’ve screamed. "You're evil."

He’s looking at you now like he’s the one broken. You turn, this time for good. Your body is trembling, anxiety crawling beneath your skin like a thousand needles, but your steps are steady. You're done.

Kai lounged on the stairway, tuning out the crude, drunken laughter of his housemates as they bragged about the girls they’d had the night before. Their voices blurred into nothing. His eyes scanned the grounds lazily, flashes of yellow, green, blue, red, the usual mess of students he barely cared to notice.

He saw you.

He saw you and remember how you cried that night.

He leaned forward without thinking, resting his chin on his hand, the world narrowing to just you. Everything else fell away against the blinding, face of yours. You moved with a kind of arrogance he recognized instantly: head high, steps sharp, like the world didn’t deserve you. The fire in your eyes. Typical of your house — spoiled, untouchable. He should’ve been bored.

He couldn’t look away. He couldn't stop hearing remembering your soft whimpers the night before.

A boy in red caught up to you, fumbling for your attention, desperate to be seen. Kai watched, as you turned to him with a look of pure disdain. The boy stammered something, like he was apologizing. You slapped him. Hard.

Kai’s mouth curved into a slow, wicked grin.

You didn’t stop there. You kicked the boy’s foot out from under him, angrily spat a few words he couldn’t catch, and walked off, not even glancing back. Kai’s eyes stayed locked on you, tracking every furious step you took across the grounds. You tried to hide it; the tremble in your hands, the way you blinked too fast but he caught it.

You're crying.

His chest tightened, something crawled under his skin. How much sweeter would it be if he were the one to do it? He could already picture it: your pride, your voice breaking, your pretty face crumpling; under his hands, under his mouth, under his name. Not for some sniveling boy, but for him.

Only him.

You didn’t even know his name. He stayed where he was, eyes following your broken form.

Kai had grown up as the only son of a pureblood family, where reputation bled deeper than blood, and control was not a suggestion but a rule etched into the spine of every morning. He was taught to be composed, restrained, untouchable — never too loud, never too soft. Smile, but not too often. Speak, but only when it matters. Feel, but never let it show.

He’d been raised that way.

His life was built on legacy. Emotions were weakness. Kindness was liability. He was not held, not comforted, not loved — only shaped.

They carved obedience into him like marble.

He watched his father hold entire rooms in silence with nothing but a stare. Watched him speak to people as if their existence was a favor, an inconvenience he barely tolerated and everyone listened. Everyone bowed. He learned early that power wasn’t just about magic.

He wore it well. Better than most.

He learned how to mimic empathy without feeling it. He learned how to laugh on cue, how to listen without caring, how to look someone in the eye while thinking of a thousand other things.

He drifted through life half-asleep, wearing the world like an ill-fitting coat. Friends, lovers, enemies; it was all noise. Meaningless. Predictable.

You were raw, undone, human. Everything he wasn’t. Everything he had been taught to crush.

What would it take to ruin you completely?

With every difiance in his body he stood up. He found himself taking step forward. Kai moved before he realized he was moving.

The sound of his housemates' laughter faded behind him, smothered under the pounding in his ears. He descended the steps with the same cold precision he was raised with, but something feral stirred beneath his ribs. His strides were steady, calculated, like a shadow stretching to meet its mark.

You were walking fast, too fast, your back stiff and your steps clipped. Anger clung to you like perfume, sharp and choking. He trailed you from a safe distance, ignoring the students who brushed past, oblivious. All he saw was the set of your shoulders, the shake in your hands. He could practically taste the heat radiating off you.

You turned a corner. So did he.

You passed the greenhouses, cut through the arch, your pace stuttering as if your own breath was betraying you. You didn’t notice him. Or maybe you did. Maybe you felt it — that feeling like you're being watched, hunted. The air changed around you.

Kai waited until you slowed near the old stone path that led toward the empty wing of the castle. Then he spoke.

His voice didn’t waver. “Why did you hit him?”

You stopped walking.He watched your back rise with a breath, then you turned.

Your eyes met. For the first time.

Up close, you looked even more dangerous. Even more breakable. Fire and ruin, cloaked in pride. Your lips were trembling, but your jaw was clenched. He took a slow step closer, tilting his head slightly, studying your face like it was a spell he hadn’t learned yet. Something unreadable flickered in your eyes — recognition? fear? anger?

He spoke again. “Is he the one who made you cry?”

Your fingers curled at your sides. You narrowed your eyes, not answering, as if silence could keep you safe.

Kai smiled, cruel. “You're not very good at hiding it.”

“I heard you last night,” he said, voice so calm it almost sounded kind. “In the hallway. You were crying.”

Your expression twisted. “Were you spying on me?”

“Observing,” he corrected, as if it mattered. “You’re... difficult to ignore.”

You scowled and turned to walk away, but this time he moved,faster than you expected, cutting into your path. “Your name,” he said. “Tell me.”

You stared at him like he was insane. Like something in him wasn't right and you were right. Something wasn't right. “What, so you can tell your little pureblood friends? Have a laugh?”

“So I'll know what to call you.”

Your breath hitched. He didn’t smile this time. His eyes dropped to your mouth, then back to your eyes. He could see it, the flicker of panic behind your bravado, the instinct to run, the ache in your throat from holding everything in. And yet, you didn’t move. You stayed rooted.

Still burning. Still human.

Still too much for someone like him.

“You're insane,” you said.

“I've been told.” Kai murmured. The wind caught your hair, brushing it across your cheek. His fingers twitched, like he wanted to reach out and touch it, feel if it was as soft as it looked, feel if you would flinch. “Tell me your name,” he said again.

You stared at him for a long time. Seconds stretched like hours. A war in your eyes, as you spoke your name. Maybe if you gave him your name, he would leave you alone.

“Wasn’t hard,” he said softly, almost mockingly. “Was it?”

He stared at you for a second longer, and when you didnt answer him he turned and walked away; no grand gestures, no parting words. A slow retreat, like he’d taken exactly what he came for. You stayed frozen in place, blinking hard, as if shaking off some invisible fog. The anger you felt with Jay minutes ago completely erased in your mind.

You told yourself he was just another entitled, pureblood brat playing mind games. But somehow… you knew he wasn’t done with you.

It was a surprise that you didn't cry a tear when you returned to your dorms that night.

The sun filtered through the high windows in thin, silver lines, catching on the dust that hovered in the still morning air. Breakfast chatter filled the Great Hall.

You walked in alone. As usual.

Your boots echoed softly against the stone as you passed through the threshold, robes hanging heavy off one shoulder, the collar of your uniform just slightly wrinkled. Your hair was pulled back, but loose strands clung to your cheeks from where you’d barely bothered to dry it. There were shadows under your eyes. A bruise of exhaustion, of restraint.

People noticed. They always did.

You could feel it, the way heads tilted toward each other when they thought you weren’t looking, how eyes followed you just long enough to make your skin crawl. It wasn’t new.

That’s her, they’d whisper. Muggleborn. Dangerous. Did you hear what she did to that Golden boy? How dare she?

You could’ve explained. You could’ve said he tricked you. Said he turned you into a bet, but you’d learned a long time ago, they never really wanted your side of the story.

You crossed the room, spine straight, steps controlled, passing the long tables like you didn’t notice the silence blooming around you like mold. You sat at the edge of your table. Your plate filled with food, untouched by your hand. A flick of your fingers beneath the table, no wand. No words.

A few first-years flinched.

Your fingers hovered over the rim of your goblet, then curled back. You weren’t hungry. You hadn’t slept much. A voice still rang in your head like a spell that hadn’t worn off.

“So I'll know what to call you.”

Kai sat three tables over, surrounded by his housemates; all perfectly-groomed pureblood sons and daughters of old families, boys with bloodlines like poisoned roots. He wasn’t speaking. He rarely did, but his gaze was fixed on you like a blade laid flat across your skin. He didn’t look smug. He didn’t smirk. He just watched. As if you were something worth waiting for.

You held his gaze. Steadily.

He didn’t look away. The last time you locked eyes with someone like that, they ended up on the floor, clutching their ribs, coughing blood, but Kai didn’t flinch.

He simply raised a single brow, like he was inviting you to do it. Daring you. Testing the temperature of your fury. You clenched your jaw and shoved your chair back, the scrape echoing louder than it should’ve.

Screw the eggs. Screw the toast. Screw this whole bloody castle and the way it always stank of legacy and rot.

And just as you stood, “Filthy little freak. Thinks she’s special.”

Your fingers twitched. You didn’t need a wand. The goblet in front of the boy crushed. Water soaked his robes. Gasps echoed. You didn’t look back. You kept walking.

You weren’t afraid of what you could do. You were afraid of how easy it was now.

The doors slammed behind you as you left the Great Hall, but you didn’t get far. You’d barely made it into the courtyard, “Well, if it isn’t our little wandless wonder.” The steps behind you were deliberate. Stiletto-sharp. The sound of privilege. You turned around.

Chae-won stood there, arms folded, robes pristine, her platinum hair twisted in a perfect knot that screamed power. Her prefect badge gleamed on her chest like it mattered. And behind her, always behind her. trailed two other girls.

“Chae-won,” you said flatly.

Her smile was razor-thin. “Did you think we wouldn’t hear? Poor Jay.”

“What?”

“You slapped him. Humiliated him. In front of everyone,” she hissed. “He was apologizing, you freak.”

“You know nothing.”

Chae-won’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, please. He did something, or what? That gives you the right to act like some dark creature in the middle of the grounds?”

You didn’t flinch. “I said you know nothing.”

Chae-won blinked, her voice lowered to something crueler. “So? Do we care about a mudblood like you?”

You looked at her. Really looked. And wondered how many people had handed her the world and called it earned. You remember the first year you were friends, the first year she knew all of you, and the once smile on your face whenever you see her. It all became a blur when people looked at you as a misfit.

Your hands twitched again.

“You planning to explode something else?” Chae-won taunted. “Go on. Show us what you can do. Everyone’s already terrified. Might as well give them a real show.”

You stepped forward. “You want to know the difference between you and me?” Chae-won raised a brow.

“I have power. You just have a last name.”

Her jaw tightened, but before she could respond, before she could reach for her wand or hurl another insult, a voice broke through from behind: “Chae-won.” She froze.

Kai stood a few feet away, arms crossed, eyes locked not on her but on you.

“I’d stop if I were you,” he said, calm, lazy, terrifying.

Chae-won blinked like she hadn’t heard him right. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not repeating myself,” His shoulder brushed yours, intentional as he passed and stood between you and her. Not defending you, but as if staking a claim.

Chae-won’s face burned. “This has nothing to do with you, Kai.”

“It does.”

She stood there for a second, jaw clenched, then scoffed. “Figures. Your house never know where to keep your standards.” Then with one last look at you, all venom and fury, she turned and stormed off, her little shadows flurrying after her.

You looked at Kai. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He didn’t look at you. “I didn’t do it for you.” And yet, he was still standing there. Still between you and the world.

You hated how you lived your years.

You hated the way your life had built itself around survival; around silence, around swallowing things that no one else ever seemed to choke on. You hated that you were born like this, like a wrong answer in a question nobody asked.

You hated that once, long ago, you’d called Chae-won your friend. That you’d laughed with her, studied with her, braided her hair in the dormitory mirror. You hated that she knew all the parts of you worth breaking and now she used them like blades.

You hated that even now being Muggleborn wasn’t enough. Wasn’t already a mark on your back. No, you had to be different, too. You had to wield wandless, wordless magic, the kind they couldn’t control, couldn’t track, couldn’t replicate and that made them stare, like you were unnatural.

You hated that, out of all the people in this castle, the one who wouldn’t look away was him.

Kai. A stranger. A Slytherin. A boy born with a silver knife in his mouth, and the gall to look at you like he saw past your fury, like he saw you about to break.

You walked away; fast, sharp steps that echoed off the stone corridor — hoping he wouldn’t follow.

He did.

You didn’t stop him. You hated that, too.

You didn’t speak, didn’t glance back, you kept walking until the hallway emptied behind you. Until there were no portraits, no prefects, no Chae-won, no whispering mouths. A stone and silence and the feeling of someone watching you like a match watches a flame.

When you reached the end of the corridor, where the light didn’t quite reach and the air felt still and forgotten, you stopped. Your shoulders rose once, then fell. The first sob cracked out of your chest so violently it startled even you.

You tried to cover it, your hand flying up to your mouth, like that would make it less pathetic, but it didn’t matter. You were already shaking, already crying, already too human to stop it now.

Behind you, he didn’t say anything.

You sank down against the wall slowly, like your legs had given out — not from fear, not from pain but from carrying it all too long. The silence between you pulsed, thick and unkind, and still he stayed. No comfort. No lies.

“I didn’t want it to be like this,” you whispered, not even knowing if you meant your life, or this day, or this moment. Maybe all of it. You could feel his eyes on you. You could feel the way he was listening.

“What do you want from me?” you asked, voice raw.

You wiped your cheek with the back of your hand, angry at yourself for crying like this in front of him of all people. Your lips trembled, and your vision blurred, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

And Kai just sat there.

Watching. Unmoving. Unbothered.

Or so you thought.

Kai exhaled slowly, like a man tired of waiting, because watching you; ruined, furious, crying and still managing to burn like a goddamn wildfire — it made something unravel inside him. Something unholy. Something that clawed its way up from beneath all the manners and legacy and careful obedience.

You, with your defiance. You, with your trembling hands and splintering voice. You, who didn’t even look his way.

You felt too much. You burned too brightly. You cracked in places he didn’t understand. You cried like it meant something. You fought like the world still owed you something soft.

A single, smooth motion and before you could ask what he was doing, before you could read the shift in his expression, he was standing over you. Looking down at you like you were a problem he couldn’t solve, like you were noise in his carefully constructed world of silence.

His jaw twitched. “I don’t like messy things,”

You opened your mouth, to apologize, to yell, to tell him to leave but your voice didn’t come.

Instead, he crouched down. Slowly. His hand reached out, not toward your face, but beside it, bracing against the wall near your shoulder, boxing you in. His other hand hovered near your chin, pausing midair. A breath. A hesitation. Something nearly human.

He kissed you.

Your fingers curled in the fabric of your robes. Your chest ached from the sobs you hadn’t finished, from the weight of the day, from the way his mouth pressed against yours like it was the only language he knew.

It wasn’t sweet. It was hungry.

He tasted like someone who hadn’t felt anything in years and hated that you made him want to. His hand moved to your jaw, holding it, not harsh but unrelenting.

His breath was unsteady when he pulled back. So was yours.

Your tear-slick lashes fluttered as you stared at him, chest rising and falling with everything you hadn’t said, everything you didn’t understand.

Kai didn’t blink. You didn't too.

You weren’t sure who looked more shaken.

“Stop crying,” he said. “It ruins your face.”

It was past curfew when the door creaked open.

A soft, deliberate sound, barely loud enough to disturb the quiet hum of sleeping breaths in the girls' dorm. The enchanted lanterns were low, casting dull golden shadows across the hardwood floor.

You were curled on your side, blanket kicked off, facing the wall like it might protect you from the dreams that had been growing more vivid lately — filled with brown eyes, the weight of a stare, the press of a mouth that never should have touched yours.

It has been a week since he kissed you, and all he did now was consume you.

You heard a slow footstep across the floorboards that didn’t belong. You sat up in an instant. Your hand instinctively curled, breath caught in your throat.

It was him.

Kai stood there leaning just inside the doorway like he owned the place. His eyes flicked over the room, over the slumbering forms of your roommates, and then back to you.

You were too stunned to speak. He shut the door behind him with a careful click.

“You can’t be here,” you whispered.

“Then tell me to leave.” He said it like he already knew you wouldn’t.

He didn’t move toward you. “I won’t skulk around and pretend I don’t know what I want.”

You swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how your heart was hammering. Of the ache in your hands from clenching them too tight under the blanket. Of the way you hadn’t breathed properly in hours.

His voice lowered. “I wanted to see you.”

You looked at him then. Really looked. His hair was messy from wind or sleep, his collar half-open. His expression, unreadable as ever, but void of any smug.

His look scared you more than any smirk ever had.

You were walking to your next class, trying to keep your head down, your thoughts together, your breathing even.

Kai walked beside you. Beside you. Shoulder to shoulder, step for step, like he belonged there and he wasn’t hiding it, either. He was adamant in the way he moved.

You rounded the corner and saw them.

Jay was seated on the ledge just outside the main stairwell, one arm slung lazily around Chae-won’s waist as she perched in his lap. They looked like a painting, like every pureblood fantasy the school worshiped. Perfect posture, perfect hair, perfect detachment. Chae-won was smiling; a perfect, cold little curve of her mouth that never quite reached her eyes while Jay just stared.

He saw you before you saw him. His gaze locked with yours, cold and pointed, like you’d wronged him. As if he were the victim. Chae-won didn’t even glance your way, but she leaned in just enough to whisper something in his ear, and though he didn’t smile, something in his jaw flexed. His hand tightened on her hip and suddenly, you couldn’t breathe.

Your vision went blurry. Your throat tightened. The corridor felt too bright, too narrow, the sounds too loud, too far away. Your breath stuttered; shallow, clipped, your heart racing like you’d been running.

Kai's gaze move from your face to your hands, where they clenched and twitched at your sides. You tried to blink it all away, tried to keep walking like nothing was happening, but your body had betrayed you.

“Has this happened before?” His voice came low.

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Your limbs felt heavy and useless, and the corridor seemed to stretch further with every step. You were floating and falling all at once. You barely noticed when his hand reached for you, until you felt his fingers wrap around your wrist — not tightly, not to restrain, but to feel.

He pressed his thumb lightly over the spot just above your pulse. He didn’t need words to know. The panic was there, thundering under your skin, alive and frantic and loud enough to silence everything else. His brow furrowed. “You’re panicking.”

The words landed heavy, simple and precise. You flinched like he’d struck a nerve, tried to pull your arm back, but he didn’t let go.

“You don’t get to worry about me,” you snapped, voice sharp and broken at the edges, as if saying it out loud could make it true.

Kai tilted his head, expression unreadable. He didn’t react to your words. He didn’t need to. He just looked at you like you were the one thing in this corridor that mattered. And then he said, calm and quiet, “Continue walking with me.”

It wasn’t a plea. It wasn’t even a request and you hated that your legs obeyed before your mind could fight it. Hated that some fragile part of you wanted to keep walking, if only he stayed beside you.

You closed your eyes for half a second, just enough for the tears to sting. You wouldn’t let them fall, not here, not with them still behind you but your chest ached, and the shame pressed hot against your throat.

His hand found yours again.

His fingers slipped through yours like it was instinct, and then he held on careful, steady, like he was holding something breakable. You kept walking. One step after the other.

He walked with you ike the entire castle wasn’t watching, but even if they were, he didn’t let go.

“So, you’re Kai’s girlfriend?”

You looked up from the ancient, half-crumbling book in your hand and blinked at the girl now standing beside you in the dim library aisle. She was dressed in green and silver and wore the kind of smile that had probably gotten her everything she ever wanted.

“Pretty,” she added, tilting her head slightly, eyes raking over you not with curiosity.

“I’m not,” you replied evenly, turning back to the shelf, hoping she’d take the hint but her presence didn’t waver. You could feel her shadow shift with yours. She followed as you stepped further down the aisle, her footsteps light but intentional.

“I’m Yunjin, by the way,” she said. Her voice had that lilting quality warm, but not soft. “I always see him around you. I mean, everyone’s noticed. It’s kind of hard to miss, the whole... obsession he has with you.”

Your fingers paused mid-reach. Obsession?

“And I guess,” she continued casually, “that must be the reason he stopped seeing me.”

“…What?” The word left your mouth before you could hold it in, too stunned to coat it in disinterest.

“Oh, don’t worry.” She gave a light, musical laugh. “It wasn’t serious. Kai doesn’t do serious. He’s unwell. Emotionally, I mean. Brilliant, but broken. The type of boy you keep behind glass until he cuts you with it.” She said it like she knew. Like she’d bled.

You stared at her. Her smile didn’t falter. If anything, it widened. “But I do see something different now,” she added, “He looks at you… differently.”

You expected cruelty to follow. A sharp comment tucked behind a smile. A passive-aggressive jab meant to draw blood beneath the surface because that’s how it usually came, wasn’t it? From the people who knew how to dress poison up in perfume.

You thought of Chae-won. A girl from your own house. People from your own house who doesn't even dare to smile at you. It was strange, wasn’t it? That someone from your own house had been so much crueler than the students from the house everyone warned you about.

So much crueller than Kai. Than Yunjin.

“Why are you being kind to me?” you asked, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

Yunjin tilted her head like she was trying to decide whether to laugh again. Then, with a small shrug, she said, “What?”

You held her gaze, unflinching.

She exhaled through her nose, almost amused. “Oh. Yeah.” There was a flicker of something beneath her expression then something real. “I’m ambitious,” she said. “And if being ambitious makes me a bad person… then I guess I’m a Slytherin.”

You were sitting in your bed, knees tucked loosely to your chest, the blankets crumpled around you like a forgotten thought. The castle was quieter than usual. Music pulsed faintly from somewhere down the hall. There was a party for your batch tonight; a celebration, one you were meant to attend, smile through, pretend for.

Instead, you were here. Alone.

You were counting the minutes.

The door opened without urgency, a soft sound not trying to sneak, not trying to impress. You didn’t turn your head. You didn’t need to. You already knew who it was.

Kai stood in the doorway like the rest of the room didn’t matter. His eyes swept across the space, landed on you, on your still form in the sheets, on the way your gaze had already been waiting for him.

“You knew I would come,” he said.

“Yes,”

He strode toward you with his usual measured grace, never rushed, never nervous and you moved slightly on the bed. “You never told me anything about you,” you said, and your voice didn’t accuse, “You’re always around. You help me. You... show up but you never talk.”

Kai looked at you, and there was something different in his eyes tonight. “What do you want to know?” he asked.

You didn’t blink. “You.”

There was a long pause.

Long enough that you thought he wouldn’t answer. Long enough to feel the ache of expectation rise in your chest, but then Kai huffed, soft through his nose, and there was a shape to it that almost — almost — sounded like a laugh. Not the full thing, but the ghost of it.

You wondered, not for the first time, what he sounded like when he really laughed.

Your eyes flicked to the empty space beside you, and you shifted further inward on the bed, a small movement, but clear.

He caught it.

He sat on the edge of your bed, hands resting on his thighs, the weight of him sinking into the mattress beside you. His posture was still too careful, still too contained, but he was there.

“I don’t talk about myself,” he said suddenly.

You didn’t answer. You knew better than to fill silence that didn’t ask to be filled. Kai exhaled softly, the sound shallow. Measured. Then he looked up, his eyes distant but focused on you, like he was reading from a page only he could see. “I was raised to be an heir. Not a person.”

You didn’t flinch. He noticed that. It made him keep going.

“My father were strict. He didn’t believe in wasting time on things like comfort, or affection. If I cried, he said it was noise. If I asked questions, he told me to read faster. If I smiled too easily, he asked if I was bored, or foolish.” He paused. Not for effect. To breathe.

“He had this saying. You were not born to be loved. You were born to lead. And I repeated it to myself every morning. For years. Until it didn’t sound like cruelty anymore.” he shakes his head, “When I was five, I learned how to duel with a real wand. When I was seven, he started leaving me alone in the manor for days. Said it would teach me independence. I didn’t speak to anyone for weeks.”

His voice didn’t shake. Not once. He didn’t sound angry. He didn’t even sound sad. He sounded like someone explaining the weather. Like grief was just another season he’d already lived through.

“I don’t know how to talk about feelings,” he admitted. “I know how to talk around them. How to look someone in the eye and not let them touch a single part of me.”

He looked at you again. “But then I saw you.” The words weren’t loud. They weren’t dramatic. “I didn’t mean to care. I don’t know how to. But I do. I hear your voice in my head even when I try to ignore it. I look for you when you’re not around.”

“And when you’re upset, I want to fix it.” His hands unclasped slowly, then gripped the edge of the bed. “I want to fix it because it’s you.”

You moved closer. He didn’t stop you. He just looked at you like you were the first warmth in a life made of glass and granite and rules. “I hate how much I feel now,” he admitted. “But I don’t want to go back.”

His words made you reach out the back of his neck and pull him to you. You hugged him and you let out a shaky breath. "I'm here. I'm here Kai."

Two strong arms snaked around your waist as soon as you said those words, and Kai's lips were against your nape. He left trails of kisses on your neck up to the back of your ears, his body pressed on yours. "Good."

He presses a few more soft kisses to the back of your head, then his voice drops to a whisper against your ear. “Can I touch you?” Your breath hitches, but you nod. His hand slips beneath your shirt, fingers brushing lightly across your stomach. “Can I touch you here?” he asks, voice gentle.

You nod again, barely able to get the word out. “Yeah.”

His hand travels higher, fingertips gliding up until they meet the bare curve of your chest. He pauses, just long enough to make your heart race. His lips are at your neck now, breath hot. “Here too?”

When he feels you nod, his hand moves with more purpose, fingertips gliding over the curve of your breast. He cups you fully, palm warm, thumb brushing the softness, squeezing just enough to make you arch subtly into his touch. He teases, exploring everywhere except where you need him most, drawing out the ache with every careful touch. When his fingers finally graze your nipple, a quiet moan slips from your lips before you can stop it. He pauses, his breath brushing against your neck. “You can tell me to stop anytime.”

Then he pulls his hand away from under your shirt, and the sudden absence makes you whine, your body instinctively chasing after his warmth. Before you can speak, he cups your face gently, tilting your head until your eyes meet. It’s dark but he's close, so close — you can make out the shape of his face, the softness in his gaze.

He leans in, brushing a featherlight kiss over your lips. Then another. You smile softly, breath mingling, and when your lips part, he takes it as invitation. This time the kiss is deep — hungry. His mouth moves against yours with desperation, like he’s been craving your taste for far too long. His hand finds your waist, tugging you closer, bodies aligning in all the right ways as the heat between you builds.

“I want you,” you whisper, voice barely there, lost in the way his lips trail along your neck, warm and wet. “Please.”

He pauses just enough to meet your gaze, then his hand slips between your thighs, cupping you through the fabric. The pressure makes your hips jerk, breath hitching.

“Here?” he murmurs, rubbing slow, teasing circles. “You want me here?”

It’s too much, and not enough. Heat pools low in your belly, a need that feels raw and overwhelming. You nod, biting your lip, your voice trembling. “Yes. There. Please.”

He groans, low and deep, and that’s when clothes start disappearing—slowly, messily. Every layer peeled off is interrupted by his mouth; on your lips, your jaw, your collarbones. His hands, greedy and gentle all at once, explore you like he’s memorizing every inch. The room is filled with nothing but breath, the soft rustle of fabric, the occasional hitch of a moan.

When he finally sinks lower, eyes locked on yours as his lips trace a burning path down your body, you don’t stop him.

“Kai…” You moaned as you clenched your fist on his dark locks. His tongue was doing to your buds as his fingers part your wet folds. You don't know what it is, but it makes your legs quivered as his tongue lapped at your entrance.

Kai grunts as he hears your soft moans, sucking on your clit to hear more. Your taste in his mouth got him drunk as he shook his head from side to side, making your moans go higher as you moved your hips to grind your wetness on his tongue. "Hmm?"

He pulled back, replacing his tongue with his thumb, rubbing her wet clit as he kissed and sucked your inner thighs. Your eyes rolled back as your chest rose up and down, glistening with sweat.

You're fucking beautiful. Kai thought as he looked up at you with hooded eyes. The sight of your blushing cheeks, eyes asking for more with your lips between your teeth made Kai slightly rut his hips on the bed.

"Do you know how long have I imagined this?" He pumped a finger inside your pussy, curling it to hit your spot as he put his mouth back to work again, flattening his tongue over your swollen pearl before flicking it with the tip. You cried out in pleasure, throwing your head back.

“I couldn't help myself but think of you.” He begged as he doubled the finger inside your soaking cunt, making you cry out in pleasure as your hands grabbed the pillow under your head.

“I can't resist having all of you.” He kissed your clit, making you whimper at the brief contact. He took off his shirt and pants before pulling you by your arm, sitting you on his lap as he took off your blouse and bra. He kissed around your nipple before taking it into his mouth, moaning at the taste of you.

He moved your position to grind on his bulge, letting out quiet moans as he desperately kissed you. He stopped your hips as he moved to your other nipple, lightly biting it while staring at your glossy eyes, making your breath hitch. He hummed as he sucked the pebbled flesh into his mouth, nibbling on it. He laid your back down, admiring your body as you panted. Your eyes are glistening, and so is your cunt. He groaned at the sight, pushing his hair back and taking his erected cock out of its confinement. He pumped it a few times before you sat up and took it into your hand.

“Let me make you feel good.” Kai stopped your hand, giving a kiss on your forehead. “Fuck.” He murmured as he moved to your lips, sucking on them, making you whimper as you laid back down again.

“Kai, please…” You cried when Kai started to rub his shaft on your slit. Every time his head hits your bud, you let out a whimper, eyebrows furrowed and eyes wide as you look up at him.

Kai took his time, grunting before pushing the tip inside. You gasped, grabbing the sheets under, feeling the pain as his length invade you. Your walls fluttered around his cock, making him let out low growls. You felt tears in your eyes as you watched half of his length disappear inside you. Kai took your hand, intertwining your fingers. He kissed your tears.

“Am I hurting you?” Kai shushed when you hissed, feeling a hint of pain as he filled you. His other hand began rubbing circles on your clit to ease the burn from the stretch.

"No,"

Kai kissed your hand when he was entirely in, giving you time to adjust. You look gorgeous underneath him. Legs wide open,mouth slightly parted, and body glistening under the dim lights of his room.

Kai started moving slowly when you nod your head, until your whimpers turned into moans. His name echoed in whispers, as you clawed on the skin of his back, leaving red marks. He was cradling your head, and his lips pressed on your ear. He was whispering the sweetest things to you.

“The things you do to me,” Kai whispers, kissing your ear lobes. "I can't even look at anyone else now."

“Yes, yes, Kai, please…” You begged as his hips started to thrust harder into you.

“Fuck.” He groaned, feeling your walls clench around him. He could tell that you were both close. Your walls spasmed around him, and his thrust started to stutter.

“Look at me.” He stared into your eyes, feeling your orgasm take over your body. His mouth reaches for your sweet lips, your toes curling as your legs wrap around his waist. Kai thrustied into you a few more times before pulling out to spill his thick load on your thighs.

It was slow, and it was soft, the way he helped you clean up. No magic. Just his hands and yours, sleeves rolled up, fingers brushing as you folded the same blanket twice just to have an excuse to linger near each other. The silence between you wasn’t heavy. It wasn’t awkward. It was full.

Your scent clung to the air; a little floral, a little tangy, something warm and alive, like late spring clinging to skin. It was in the sheets, in the corners of the room, in him. He’d never been the type to notice things like that, but here he was, trying to memorize how the air felt with you in it.

You were fussing with the pillows now, distracted, focused on symmetry but he was just watching you.

“I’m going to work every day,” His voice was low, almost rough with restraint. “I’ll work every fucking day, just to follow you.”

You feel your eyes burn.

“I’ll learn how to move the way you do. I’ll learn how to speak the way you understand. I’ll change the way I live if that’s what it takes. Every single day, I’ll do it, just to fit you.”

“Why?” you asked, voice almost a whisper. “Why would you change for me?”

Kai’s eyes found yours. “Because you made me want to,”

It's the truest thing he’d ever said in his life.

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[zulashi-the-writer]

In Your Head

Poly Rujinu x Girlfriend Reader

Summary: how can they fix what's already broken, how can they fix someone who doesn't feel worth fixing

Requested by: @smiling-laughing-hating

2nd person pov

It started with faded whispers echoing at the back of your head, the voice making the hairs on the back of your neck stand, you were going crazy "hear you ok" Rumi asked her voice concerned as she leaned down to your hunched over form, your hands gripping at the back of your neck, you wanted it to stop, needed it to stop.

"Hey, its ok look at me, look at me please" her voice was starting to sound panicked as she reached out her hands cupping your cheek moving you to look up at her, your pupils small and your eyes holding a haze of fear, you couldn't hear her, she rushed to the room to get her phone, the air pushed by her sending a cold shiver down your spine 'they don't love you, leave' Rumi's words caught in her throat as she entered the room you were gone and the front door was wide open.

"Rumi what's happening, what's wrong with yn" Jinu yelled out through the phone but Rumi was too shocked to speak her heartbeat thumbed her chest, it was all she could hear, her thumb pressed the hang up button before dropping it to the floor taking off after you, you couldn't have gone far.

Her boots drummed against the cement road, her chest heaving with shallow breathes her eyes frantically scaling the scenery in search of you, "Rumi" her skidded to a holt hearing Jinu's voice, they ran to each other Rumi stuffing herself into his chest "I think its Gwi-ma" a few tears sliding down her cheeks as she spoke.

Jinu froze hearing his name the voices in his head slowing raising 'you can't save her because you can't even save yourself' his hands pushed Rumi away holding her tightly "find her, you have to find her" his voice came out shaky and breathless "what about you" Rumi asked more tears flowing down her face her mind crowded with thoughts of worry for both of her partners.

His thumbs grazed her cheek wiping away the tears "don't worry about me, we have to make sure yn is ok" he whispered taking his phone out his pocket and handing it to her "call the girls tell them what's going on and find yn before.... it's too late" his voice dwindled at the thought of losing you, Rumi's eyes shifted to the ground nodding only capturing the edge of her lover disappearing into red mist her hands immediately getting to work with dialling the girls "who is thi-" "I need your help".

Jinu quivered as he appeared in the demon realm, the crowd of demons snickering at his appearance "Gwi-ma" his angered shout echoing throughout the realm making the fire flicker in amusement "Jinu oh what do I owe the pleasure" his voice was smooth holding a bitterness to it, Jinu yellow eyes glared brightly at the demon king his body shaking with anger but he had to hold himself back for the sake of your safety.

"Let her go" Jinu growled through gritted teeth making the fire bellow out a laugh his flames flicker "and why would I do that" a faded illusion appearing in the bright light of the flames "I quite like being inside her head" Jinus heart ached with fear as he saw you dazed figure, your shaky voice begging for it to stop, your hands tightening on your hair with each word spoken in your mind "she will be fun to corrupt" Gwi-ma muttered causing Jinu to growl.

"What do you want" Jinu asked his eyes glaring up at the fire as the illusion faded "I think she would make a fine new puppet don't you guys agree" the crowd below shouted in agreement only quietening down as Jinu looked back glaring at them "are we not enough" Jinu shouted making the fire grow in anger "you are doing nothing" Jinu took a few steps back his hands moving up to guard himself from the heat "we'll see how well your little girlfriend can handle the tasks the five of you can't" Gwi-ma chuckled his laugh growing louder as Jinu disappeared "how pathetic".

His head thought back to the illusion he knew that spot it looked so familiar 'the park' his body was quick to react, his feet carrying him as fast as they could "Jinu" Rumi called running alongside him her voice somewhat happy to see him ok "I think she's by the park" he muttered she nodded before splitting up each of them praying you are safe.

His body slowly coming to a holt, his eyes somewhat fluttering in relief as his saw your silhouette sitting on the wall staring out towards the city mumbling to yourself, he was afraid to step closer "yn" he whispered slowly inching toward you his eyes flickering over to Rumi who stopped just away from you too her eyes glued to your figure "I don't deserve to be fixed" his heart broke hearing your quiet cries "I don't deserve to be loved" he watched your body shake.

"My love" Rumi's voice carried softly causing you to freeze but you still didn't look at them, you didn't move, like your still caught in the daze but know their around you, "please my love talk to us" Jinu moved in unison with Rumi settling by your side but never touching you, you turned slightly your eyes staring at her breath hitching seeing the lifeless look you held before returning your gaze out to the city "I don't deserved to be fixed" you started again repeating the same phrases all over again.

"Jinu what do we do" Rumi asked her voice desperate but even he didn't know how to fix it, his head filled with the voices 'you can't save her' 'you let her down' 'it's your fault she's like this' he didn't have control of his body as it moved to wrap himself around you, his arms bringing you to cradle yourself into his chest his head resting on yours as tears welled up in his eyes "I'm sorry" he whispered his voice cracking.

Rumi joined in their bodies holding you in comfort "I'm sorry we were never there for you" her voice coming out as a desperate cry, they can't lose you, their tears dropped onto your skin making your words catch in your throat "I'm so sorry we were to blind to see you struggling" Jinu spoke a quiet sob catching in his throat.

"You don't deserve to feel this way" he whispered laying a shaky kiss on your head his tears dripping onto your head "your too good to be like this" his voice broke Rumi's head perked up looking at him then back to you "you helped me love myself when I hated to even look in a mirror" her voice was slowly picking up hope with each word she spoke "you helped me love my flaws and scars" she picked up your hand placing it against her heart to feel her heart beating.

They saw a small reaction in your body making Jinu quickly pull back a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips "you mind me not want to forget my past instead to use it to make me a better person" his hands held yours to his felt feeling your warmth against his relaxing his body "you helped me in so many ways yn you helped us now we want to help you" his voice murmured softly lifting his other hand to move your face to look at him, his smile growing as he slowly saw the life coming back.

"Thats it" he smiled wrapping his arms around you, his arms reached out grabbing Rumi pulling her in, his chest heaving and the voices in his head subsiding "what happened" you asked sounding dazed "we thought we lost you" Rumi murmured a few tears still running down her cheeks, they pressed kisses all around your face making you giggle "promise you will always come talk to us if you're having any doubts" Rumi cupped your cheeks squishing them together.

"I promise"

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

You were very good about leaving me alone all my life…why don't you do it again, please (Black Reader to Bruce)

"DEAR OLD DAD?"

You finally got the promotion you've been waiting for at Wayne Enterprises for I don't know how long, but finally, the company's boss notices you. Bruce notices you, which is crazy because there are millions of workers around, but he notices you. You're lucky, and honestly, he gives you your very late and awaited promotion. With that life-changing information, you go off to get some beers with your friends, not knowing that certain masked vigilantes are watching you in the shadows. You're drunk, hiccuping, flushed, small and red if you look very closely, with a wide smile and dilated eyes—far too many beers to think of. Your friend ends up dropping you off at your dingy apartment. You flop onto your couch, excited, with your cat purring in your lap.

You see a dark silhouette on your balcony. Not knowing any better, you call out. Bruce tries to ignore you and get off the balcony, but you've already spotted him, and you're not letting him escape. In your mind, holy shit, Batman is on my balcony, and oh my God, Batman's on my balcony! So he stands there, completely paralyzed as you waddle over to your balcony window, opening it up for the caped crusader. "Want a beer?" you slur your words. Bruce doesn't answer as he watches you waddle back to your refrigerator, opening cans of beer and cheap snacks stacked in your fridge. My God, how do you survive like that? There's not a single green thing in there.

You come back with two beers; Bruce doesn't touch his, but you're taking a complete swig out of yours. "Holy shit, Batman's in my apartment!" you laugh, finally falling into his lap, beer still in hand. You tell him about your day and how you got your very awaited promotion that you've been waiting years for, and it finally appears. Bruce feels like a proud father, but you obviously don't know who the man under the mask is. You think you're hallucinating Batman in your apartment, but you're too drunk to care. You keep rambling about your day on his lap as Bruce combs through your curls. He feels so safe around you, so happy around you; it's like he can just take off his mask in front of you. Until he does, and you're completely gobsmacked that Batman is Bruce Wayne, and it's the same Bruce Wayne who just gave you your very awaited promotion.

You're jumping up and down with glee and joy, crying with happy adult tears. He wants you to put your beer down on the coffee table, his untouched with yours half-empty. He wants to drop the news on you; he wants to tell you everything: how you were his child, how he ignored you for a long portion of your life, and how he's back now wanting to make everything better. He wants to tell you everything, but a part of him doesn't want to know your reaction. He can't take it, but it needs to be done. He can't keep a secret from you like this; it hurts him, but it's going to hurt you even more if you know this information. He can't live a lie, and he won't let you.

So he confesses every single detail about how you're his child, about the fling he had in college that includes your mother, how he remembers your mom's name, and how he figured out you were his kid. It was simple math and a whole lot of invading privacy. He confesses like it's a church confession, and you're the priest. On the other hand, you get up off his lap, your head down, and grab the beer off the coffee table, taking another swig. "Why can't you just let me enjoy myself?" you say in a broken voice. You didn't want to get this promotion out of pity; you did this through hard work. You're telling me all it took for you to get that uplifting you need is to be Bruce Wayne's kid? You felt like all your hard work to win prizes and get into university was absolutely nothing.

"Why did you have to ruin this for me? Why couldn't you just ignore me like you always did?" You didn't want a father; you didn't need one; you didn't crave one. So why was he here now, caring so much? Now you need a stupid pity party? You just wanted to be seen for your work; so does it not even matter now that you're Bruce Wayne's kid? "I didn't need a dad; I grew up by myself. I did everything by myself. I never needed one then, so I sure as hell don't need one now." He wants to get closer to you; the cold weather of the suit will give you the warmth that he knows you need. You're not a Wayne; you're not some trust fund baby. But once this gets reaching out to the press and once your coworkers know, you're not a hard worker—you're just some dumb nepo baby with everything handed to them by dear old dad.