#he should be smiling more... why so serious...

[violetcamryn]

OMG HII I READ THE UR RECENT FIC ABT SNOTLOUT AND I NEED MORE OF HIMM!!

Just an idea maybe an enemies to lovers trope w him and they got together bc he got jealous over smth?

thank you for the request. i hope this is sort of what you were looking for 🤭

“SOMETHING UNSPOKEN”

Pairing: Snotlout Jorgenson x reader

Trope: slight enemies to lovers (they just don’t know how to communicate)

Warnings/ heads-up: use of “Y/N” literally twice (i’ve heard some ppl don’t like to read fics that use “Y/N” so here’s your heads-up). Other than that, none!

AN: this is literally my first fanfic ever, please be kind. i’m so nervous to post this. anyways i hope you love it! as always, reblogs are greatly appreciated

You were pacing around your room, thinking about everything that had gone wrong earlier today.

First, Hiccup had accidentally stepped on your heel during dragon training which made you get distracted and end up getting eliminated in front of the students (he apologized profusely afterwards).

You had been late to teach the younger dragon riders and ended up only getting half the lesson done, which would set them back even farther than they already were.

But the cherry on top was Snotlout being in the way every time you needed to do something.

Every day there was the constant flirting, which was so poorly executed and poorly timed all it did was annoy you. He knew it too, he just wanted to get a rise out of you.

Then there was the fact that every time you had a moment of peace and quiet, he had to go off on some tangent about how “nobody else knows how to ride dragons like he can” and “he should be teaching his own class”. Everybody knew it wasn’t true, because nothing would ever get done if he was teaching his own class, but he believed it nonetheless.

The worst of it was when he’d kick your shins under the dining table, and then deny it was him. You weren’t sure why (or how) you ended up sitting across from him almost every meal, but I guess the fact that he showed up late to every meal and just happened to sit down across from you would account for it.

After pacing your room for what felt like hours, you finally laid down to get some sleep after a rather agitating day.

In the morning, you made your way to the mead hall to have breakfast with everyone. Fishlegs had brought along the dragon manual to study, and everybody was completely engrossed in it.

You slid onto the bench in between Astrid and Fishlegs, and they welcomed you by sliding you a plate of breakfast. You probably should have paid more attention to the seating arrangements, you realized after a few seconds.

Directly across from you was Snotlout, who was unsurprisingly causing a ruckus. Him and Tuffnut were pushing eachother across the bench and knocked into Ruffnut, which didn’t help the noise level after she shouted at them to stop.

When they finally started to eat breakfast like normal people, you were able to focus on the day ahead.

The day was going to be busy— dragon training in the morning, lunch and study sesh with the gang, fence repair in the afternoon (the sheep got out again, shocker), and then dinner at the lookout in the evening.

“So, who’s teaching the class with me this morning?” you asked the group. You had checked the schedule and Astrid was supposed to be helping you, along with some new guy, but the schedule was always changing.

“Well, there’s been a slight change of plans. I know I was supposed to help you today but I have to help Gobber with this stupid project he’s started, so we figured we’d send Snotlout with you today” Astrid said hesitantly.

You looked her dead in the eyes with an “are you serious right now” glare, and all she could do was shoot you an apologetic smile.

“I’ll be on my best behaviour, I promise” Snotlout chimed in with a smile, taking a quick pause from his extremely messy eating.

“You better be” you replied.

After everybody had cleaned up their breakfast, you all made your way out of the hall and off to your morning routines.

——————————————————————

The arena was full of younger dragon riders, all eager to learn the new skills you had planned to teach them.

The new trainer, some guy whose name you didn’t know yet, was there and greeted you with a smile. You smiled back but didn’t have time to chat. Not that you cared for small talk anyways, you were there to teach.

You anxiously checked the time, and everyone except for one person was at the lesson on time.

“Great way to start the lesson” you mentioned when Snotlout finally showed up, late.

He gave you an apologetic smile but that didn’t make up for the fact that you had lost 10 minutes of valuable teaching time.

You got over it quickly though, because your mind became preoccupied with just how incompetent these younger dragon riders were.

One of them couldn’t even get his dragon to sit still for more than 5 seconds, so for the majority of the class time there was no hope of him learning the new flying skills you had planned for the day.

The other dragon trainer, whose name you now heard from one of the kids was Leif, managed to get the kid onto his dragon after 15 minutes of him trying on his own. Thank Odin.

The rest of the lesson went smoothly, and soon enough it was time to clean up.

You walked over the Leif and gave him a pat on the shoulder.

“Thanks for your help, I’m not sure what that lesson would’ve looked like if you hadn’t got that kid on his dragon” you said.

“No problem, anytime” he replied with a smile.

You turned to leave the arena, and you saw Snotlout standing with Hookfang, looking…upset?

“Jeez, who pissed in his drink this morning?” you thought to yourself as you walked out of the arena.

The rest of the day went by quicker than you anticipated. Lunch + study sesh with everyone was the same as usual, except for the fact that Snotlout was nowhere to be seen.

You chalked it up to him not wanting to study and skipping out again. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Fixing the fence was a pain, especially since the twins (who were the only other people assigned to help) were absolutely useless. They so much time fighting about who would fix it better, that neither of them actually helped fix ANY of it.

You were so thankful that dinner came as soon as it did. You strolled up to the lookout where everyone had planned to meet up for dinner.

You and Snotlout just happened to be the first people there.

“I see you’re actually early for something for once” you half-joked.

He didn’t say anything back, which surprised you. Normally he would take a jab at you any chance he got, but not today.

“I guess skipping out on the study sesh earlier really must have given you some time to get here early” you tried again.

Still, nothing.

You sat silently for what felt like hours (it was literally 5 minutes), before the rest of the crew showed up. Fishlegs was the first to arrive, and he immediately noticed Snotlout’s quiet demeanour. He was not going to be the one to complain though, he was going to enjoy the peace and quiet for as long as it lasted…

It lasted a total of 15 seconds before the twins showed up and started talking loudly about everything they did (or didn’t) do that day, which included NOT helping you fix the fence (you were still bitter about it).

Once everyone else had arrived, everyone began eating and chatting. Not Snotlout though, he was quiet. None of the usual kicking your shin or pushing Tuffnut off the end of the bench. Just…eating silently.

You wondered what had brought on this sudden change of character, but you were soon preoccupied with the group conversation.

Dinner went by quickly, and you were thankful for it. All you could think about was how badly you wanted to be back in your bed. You had hoped that after a nights rest, tomorrow’s dragon training lesson would go better.

You usually stayed behind to clean up, as it gave you something to do to wind down from the day before you went home.

Everyone else made their way down from the lookout and started to head home, thanking you as they left.

But one person had stayed behind.

“So you and Mr. Dragon Trainer must be pretty close then, huh?” Snotlout asked suddenly.

You turned around with a confused look and didn’t know how to respond.

“I saw you two at the end of the lesson today, you seemed like you REALLY enjoyed his company” he said.

“I was thanking him for getting that kid on his dragon, that’s all. Plus, why do you even care?” you responded. “It’s not like you offered up a helping hand much today” you added before scooping up the rest of the leftover food and tossing it to the dragons that were lying below the lookout.

“Well I would have if I had a chance to, but you seemed to busy with good ol’ Mr. Dragon Trainer to notice if I did” he said.

“Why does it matter if I notice? You’re there to teach a class Snotlout, not show off” you replied, sitting down on the bench across from him.

“Why do you think I even took up teaching that class? I knew he was going to be there, but do you really think I enjoy teaching a class with that guy? No I certainly don’t” he retorted.

“What are you getting at, Snotlout?” You were completely lost about where this conversation was going.

“I took up teaching that class because I would get to teach with you” he blurted out. He immediately looked like he regretted it, and looked down at the floor.

“What do you mean you wanted to teach with me? You treat me like you can’t even stand me half the time. You’re constantly trying to annoy me and get me to be frustrated with you, why would you want to spend MORE time with me?” you asked, sincerely confused.

“You ever think about the fact that maybe I don’t want to annoy you? Maybe I just wanted the attention that came from it?” he asked softly, still looking at the ground.

“What- huh?” you stammered, trying to compose your thoughts.

“You really thought I wanted to annoy you because, what, I disliked you? No, I wanted you to notice me.” he said.

You took a moment to process what was happening; the man who had spent the past who-knows-how-long pestering you, teasing you, and picking fights with you, wanted you to…notice him?

“I didn’t think that being nice would make you notice me. I thought I’d just seem like every other guy in the village. Which apparently seems to be your type, seeing as you were buddying it up with Leif earlier…” he mumbled at the end.

“Please for the love of Thor, enough about Leif! I don’t care about him. In fact, he didn’t even know his name until today. That should show you just how little he matters to me” you responded, slightly irritated.

“Sorry. I just..I don’t know. Seeing you with him today, touching his shoulder, I got jealous. I wanted you to notice me but you were too busy with him” he admitted.

You almost couldn’t believe the words you were hearing.

He finally looked up from the ground, and took a deep breath.

“I guess I’m too far into this now not to get it all out, so I might as well just tell you. I’ve been into you for a long time, Y/N” he said, while scratching the back of his neck nervously.

“I took the shift today because I wanted to finally show you how I really am, that i’m not just some obnoxious guy and I actually know what i’m doing. This is obviously not how I planned for the day to go, but here we are” he said.

“I just didn’t know how to tell you or show you how I felt. I don’t like annoying you, I just thought it was the only way I’d get your attention. I’m sorry, I didn’t want you to think it was because I disliked you” he said sadly.

You looked at him for a moment before getting up to go sit next to him.

You didn’t touch him, you just sat silently next to him and listened.

“I want to show you that I’m a good guy, and—“ you cut him off.

“Look. Now that I know all of this, there’s some things I need to say too” you started.

“You didn’t have to do all of…that to get me to notice you. I really liked being around you, but you just made it so difficult and I thought you didn’t like me.” you said.

“You know, I was into you for a while too…it started around a year ago” you admitted quietly after a moment of silence.

He looked surprised.

“I just couldn’t bring myself to sacrifice my focus on teaching for some feelings that I was pretty sure weren’t going to be reciprocated. So, I started to ignore you, and then you started to do…whatever all that was to get my attention” you looked at the ground as you said it.

“You should’ve just told me” he said.

You looked at him for a moment, analyzing his face to see whether he was being sincere or not.

“I’m serious. I wouldn’t have made fun of you. Gods, I was already crushing on you back then. I would’ve been ecstatic if you just told me” he said with a smile.

“Look, I feel like some apologies are in order. I’ve been an asshole. I shouldn’t have tried to get your attention the way I did, and I really shouldn’t have gotten so jealous today. I’m sorry, Y/N” he said, turning his body to fully face you.

You took a moment to appreciate the apology before answering.

“I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did either. I just shut you out instead of dealing with my feelings and I just made everything worse” you said.

You both sat silently for a moment, trying to process everything that had been said in the last few minutes. Everything was going to change now.

“Can we…start over? I want to show you who I really am, not just some obnoxious guy who can’t flirt to save his life” Snotlout said.

“Yeah, I think I’d like that actually” you responded. “But can we skip the part where we pretend we don’t have feelings for eachother? I mean, now that’s it’s all out in the open anyways…” you asked.

“Yes, please” he said with a smile.

You smiled back and inched closer to him on the bench. You gave him a very light smack on the arm.

“That’s for all the times you tried to get on my nerves” you joked.

You quickly leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“That’s for everything after”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

AN: Omg this is my first fanfic ever, i hope it’s not too bad. Feedback is appreciated (pls be kind though)💗💗

More coming soon! I have a few WIPs cooking in my drafts waiting to be finished to get ready for more Snotlout x reader content

[moonqz4now]

WHAT DO YOU WANT? :; Kwon Jiyong x Reader

GD&TOP WRITING EVENT

pairing : Kwon Jiyong x idol!fem!reader

genre : fluff

warnings / contents :

description : Two idols from YG entertainment, one a member of BIGBANG and the other, 2NE1. When years of playful flirting on and off stage, blur into the lines of real romance, the question ‘What do you want’ appears at the YG family concert.

this is my oneshot for the GD&TOP writing event i’m doing, which involves some of my favourite writers, they have all been so kind, and they are incredibly talented, please support them 🤍 so grateful to do this event alongside them all - to them writers who have joined and helped me, thank you so much my loves <3

The first time Y/N heard him say her name, he’d dragged it out like a secret he wasn’t sure he should be telling.

“Y/N-ah,” he’d teased, leaning against the studio doorframe like he had nowhere else to be. Her name fell from his lips so simplistically, like they had known each other for years and he said it everyday.

“That’s pretty” He would casually comment

She was nineteen then. Nervous. New. Still measuring her worth in how tightly she could hold a mic and how little she stumbled over dance steps. He, on the other hand, was already Kwon Jiyong. Already gold chains and platinum hair and lyrics that hit like poetry when no one was looking.

So she just blinked up at him from her spot on the practice room floor, towel draped around her neck, half-winded and unsure if he was serious.

“I like your voice,” he added plainly, and then walked away.

Years later, she still remembered that moment. How the air had felt too warm after he left, how her heart had thudded all the way down to her sneakers.

It had never been anything too obvious between them. Not really. Just a string of “joking” flirts that never quite untangled.

Like the time he’d draped his arm around her during the YG Family photoshoot in 2013, whispering something so dumb—“Smile bigger, you’ll thank me when you’re forty” that it made her laugh right as the camera flashed. She kept that photo tucked in the back of her phone case for years. It’s still there now. A little faded, only slightly ruined. But it was perfect.

Or the way he always seemed to end up on the couch next to her at afterparties, legs pressed just close enough to touch.

“You look tired,” he’d murmur, and she’d roll her eyes because of course she was tired.

But then he’d place a warm can of coffee in her hands without asking.

Times where the two groups would collab, and Jiyong purposefully put his and Y/M’s verses layering over the other, melodically, easily.

For example, when the two groups were working on a collab stage together and were in the dance room practising, light sweat clinging to the back of their necks, and everyone’s hair slightly flattened.

Jiyong would hand her a bottle of water during a break, with Daesung’s voice calling out throughout the room, in his spot sitting next to y/n, “Hyung! Why didn’t you get me water too?” the man would playfully speak.

“Because she needed it more”

Joking, over dramatic winks were passed between the two, with Chaelins gave contorting into a grimace and an ‘ew’ which only encouraged Jiyong to do more, pretending to pepper even more dramatic kisses across her face, his lips never actually touching her skin, until she backed away, pushing him off with a laugh.

Other times where they would be backstage and he would take her water, chug half of it before handing it back to her. Or where they would ‘jokingly’ flirt in front of their friends like it was normal.

Like it was completely innocent, no feeling behind it accept two close friends.

Years of it.

Years of off-stage teasing and quiet studio check-ins, of Jiyong pulling her in for impromptu dance moments during YG collab stages, always a beat too long, always with a wink he never gave to anyone else.

Lingered hands on her waist when they would hug, fingers too gently running through her hair when it needed fixing quickly before going back on stage.

Nothing ever happened. Not really.

He was always too much, and she was always too cautious.

Dancers blurred into fleeting images backstage at the YG family concert. Where all idols connected, collaborated, invented.

BIGBANG covered 2NE1’s songs iconically bad. Their teasing attempt at being a girl group such as the girls themselves, was laughable, and they pulled it off, as they always do, with shit eating grins, and vocals so hypnotising, even when they were trying to sound somewhat bad.

Of course, Jiyong pretended to be y/n. Covering her verses, Copying her now famous movements she would do at every concert. Like the slight head tilt when singing, and the way she would hold the microphone with her pinky out, subconsciously.

The cameras rolled around the group, occasionally drifting to where 2NE1 themselves were watching their friends dance and sing to some of their most cherished songs.

The lights dimmed and the boys, ever the performers, stood in all their glory, soaking up the way the girls were sidestage, mouths covered by their hands in an attempt to hide their laughter, eyes crinkled slightly. Of course the camera zoomed in on G-Dragon at the exact moment he blew a kiss to Y/N.

A seemingly innocent interaction. A mocking, a teasing, something they did all the time.

Only the people who really observed could see the way his eyes softened slightly in almost awe when y/n pretended to grimace in response to the action.

The real 2NE1 appeared shortly after, conquering the stage with a calm yet intense feeling passing through the entire audience. And he was there of course. Watching from a difference, his chain loose around his neck, one she had gotten him for a birthday a couple years back.

He watched her perform with a gentleness in his eyes that you can’t explain. Ignoring Taeyang’s comments throughout the girls set, before claiming he was just immersed in the music.

And then came the final dance. A collab with all the idols that were there that night. All of the labels biggest stars, together on a stage where they all pushed through the exhaustion, the years and years of non stop practising, working, creating.

But when it came to the final bow, BIGBANG and 2NE1 stood side by side, with Jiyong next to Y/N, who’s feet were milling from the heels her stylist made them all wear.

Her foot stumbled slightly, causing her to almost fall in a sheet of panic, and humiliation. But quickly, too quickly to even be considered human, his hand was around her waist, holding her up until she balanced again. It wasn’t noticeable to anyone else surrounding. His grip on her waist wasn’t a foreign sight to the media. But it felt different. When his hand didn’t leave until they all had to move off the stage, the girls heart pattered strongly in her chest.

But she would say it was just the adrenaline of the night.

The roar of the crowd still echoed in her ears as she stepped offstage after the last dance of the night, the heat of the spotlights still clinging to her skin. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, and she blinked against the rush of confetti that still danced behind her eyes.

Backstage was utter chaos. Staff yelling into earpieces, stylists tugging at sleeves and wiping sweat, idols hugging, laughing, congratulating each other through adrenaline-drunk smiles. y/n offered a few tired high-fives, her hands still buzzing from the energy of the night.

She wanted to find her members. CL was probably already demanding champagne, but her legs carried her the opposite way, down a quieter hallway. Somewhere dimmer. Somewhere the noise couldn’t follow.

She reached the corner near the old makeup room, the one with the flickering lights and the slightly scratched mirror, and leaned against the wall, letting the silence settle around her like a second skin.

And then she heard it: the soft squeak of sneakers. A presence behind her.

“You always disappear after stages,” came his voice. Gentle. Knowing.

She didn’t turn around, but her lips curved just slightly. “I’m not disappearing. I’m recharging.”

Jiyong chuckled. “Still pretending you’re not exhausted even though you nearly tripped during the group bow?”

“I did not trip.”

“You stumbled. Like a newborn deer.” he teased, before adding “It’s a good thing my hand was there to catch you”

She laughed. quiet, breathless, real.

He came to stand beside her, his shoulder brushing lightly against hers. Neither of them moved. The hallway buzzed faintly with fluorescent light. From the distance, the echo of fans chanting still lingered like a dream slowly fading.

For a moment, they said nothing.

Just stood there.

The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, nor was it ever. It was full of everything they’d never said. Years of glances that lasted too long. Inside jokes that stopped being jokes. Coffee cups left outside studio doors and text messages typed and deleted more times than she could count.

And then, softly, so softly she almost missed it, he asked:

“y/n..what do you want?”

Her breath caught.

She turned to look at him.

But he wasn’t smiling now. He wasn’t wearing that gummy smile of his that she barely pretended to hate. His eyes, dark and unreadable, held hers with a quiet intensity. No teasing. No smirk.

Just a question.

She swallowed.

Of all the things he could’ve said. You did well tonight. Let’s grab food. I missed this. This was the one she hadn’t prepared for.

Because it wasn’t about the concert.

It wasn’t about music. It wasn’t for the cameras, the fans, the label.

It was for her.

And suddenly, she was nineteen again, holding banana milk in an all too-bright practice room. She was twenty-one, her pinky tangled in his loosely, just before a stage. She was twenty-five, reading his note tucked into a CD case. She was every version of herself that had ever wanted him and been too scared to say so.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I think I used to.”

“And now?”

She looked up at him—really looked. His eyes were softer now. Waiting. Willing to wait forever, if she needed him to.

“I think I want…” she paused, then exhaled. Her voice was smaller than she meant it to be. “You.”

He nodded slowly, like he’d known all along. Of course he had. Anyone could’ve guessed. But he was waiting for her to admit it.

Like he just needed to hear her say it.

And then, like it was the simplest thing in the world, he reached up and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered against her cheek, tracing the edge of a smile he didn’t realize he’d missed.

His touch felt different to any other instance they had found themselves tangled in over the years. Like the weight of the situation dawned on them two with a mixture of relief and fear.

“I’ve wanted you,” he said, “for a long time.”

With that, Jiyong leaned in slightly, his nose brushing gently against hers before she stopped him.

“Not here, there’s cameras everywhere”

His laugh was breathy, quiet, his eyes crinkling under the light of the room. And his forehead pressed against hers.

“When have I ever cared for that?”

Then his lips were against hers. His hand once treading carefully on her cheek, now using it to keep himself grounded, his other hand tangling itself in the girls hair.

This is where he belonged. All those years of half-assed denials, avoidance. And now. They couldn’t brush it off anymore. No more, ‘we’re just friends’ with a heavy heart. No more, ‘don’t be stupid, we don’t like each other like that’.

He was drowning in her, and he didn’t want to learn how to swim.

tag list : @raynamorono23 @szonyix6277 @mintymuse @millytugby 🤍

[radiohao]

why are men so annoying? + nct wish

sypnosis: arguing w nct wish (hyung line)

pairings: nct wish hyung line x gn!reader

genre: kinda angst, comfort, fluff, some crack, non!idol nct wish, uni!au

warnings: fighting (not physical), lowercase intended, not proofread, first time writing angst, pinching riku, reader is petty but for good reason

wc: 2.9k (my longest fic yet!!)

—

oh sion

your boyfriend is someone that is very lighthearted and fun-loving. he makes your rainy days sunny again and is the life of the party. you never thought there'd be a day where you'd find his lack of seriousness a bother to you. but like anything in life, too much of a good thing can easily become a bad thing. as time went by in your relationship, you, like anyone else, starting thinking more about the future — getting married, having kids, and buying a house together are things you wanted with sion. but the two of you tended to live more in the moment instead of constantly wondering what the future holds. it was only when you were nearing the end of your university schooling that you started to question sion regarding future endeavors, especially like getting married or buying a house together. you wanted to settle down, spend your forever with him.

but it seemed that whenever you brought it up, your boyfriend would change the topic or make it seem less serious than you thought it to be. the first few times you brushed it off, but the more he pushed it aside, the more it irritated you, to the point where you starting doubting sion's love for you, thinking he didn't want you for the long-run.

it all blew up one day when you went out with your parents for their anniversary dinner. it was just a family thing, so sion didn't tag along. "honey, when are you and sion getting married?" your mother had asked. you didn't respond, couldn't respond. all you managed to blurt out was, "i'm not sure yet, mom. we're still kinda young, you know?" she nodded understandingly and chuckled. "i suppose you're right. but you're going to graduate from university soon, and you can't live in the dorms forever. no pressure, sweetie. just something to think about."

her words had you thinking about marriage with sion up until the following day when you decided to relax at his dorm. both you and sion sat on the couch, cuddling as you watch your favorite tv show.

"sion?"

"hm? yes, baby?" he turned to look at you.

"when are we gonna get married?" you ask him. "we've been dating for a while now." sion's breath hitches at your question, and he scoffs before planting a kiss to your forehead. "let's not think about that right now baby, it's not what's important at the moment." your brows furrow in frustration, and you take a breath before speaking back.

"it is important. babe, you can't just brush it off every single time i ask you about getting married or moving in together — we're not getting any younger."

"i'm not brushing it off, it's just not what we should be prioritizing-"

"so when will you?"

"soon, baby. just not right now." you're slowly getting even more irritated.

"when is soon? it doesn't really seem like you want to get married to me..." you mumble towards the end.

"i never said that- why are you accusing me?"

"i'm not accusing you?? you're just not giving me a direct answer! sion, i'm going to get my degree soon. i need to know what plans you have for us-"

"i don't have any, i just- don't think about that stuff when it comes to you." he blurts out. you look at him silently, eyes wide. you sigh, not finding the energy to say anything back. "i'm gonna go home," you utter. "it's late." you sit up from the couch and grab your bag, walking towards the door. "baby, no— i didn't mean it like that," he says, grabbing your wrist. you muster a small smile, saying, "it's okay, let's just talk about this tomorrow." you take sion's hand off yours and walk out the door, leaving him standing there.

tomorrow never came. you stopped bringing it up after that one night, deciding not to stir up another argument again. sion noticed, of course. he thought you would mention marriage at a certain time, but two weeks went by and no words were spoken regarding your future. you began to drown in assignments and exams, and sion went back to mokpo to visit his parents. you two barely spoke, words like 'how are you?' and 'did you eat yet?' being thrown around. silence filled the space in your dorm, your texts, and your relationship.

you assumed he forgot, that he was actually glad that it was never mentioned again. but you were proved wrong when you arrived home one evening after a long study session at the library. you open your dorm to find it neatly organized, blankets folded and condiments put away into the pantry. you look around in confusion, until you see oh sion sitting on your couch, flowers in hand.

"what are you doing here?" you ask him, cautiously taking a step forward. he stands up and hands you the flowers, your fingers brushing against his. you realize then how much you missed this; how much you missed him. his touch, his affection. maybe you should've talked about this sooner. but sion beats you to it.

"we should've talked about this sooner. i'm sorry i didn't bring it up, i thought you didn't want to talk about it- okay, that's not the point. i wanted to give you a proper apology. i'm sorry i never took those conversations seriously and for always brushing it off. i lied when i said i don't think about that kind of stuff. in fact, i think about it too much. to be honest, i'm just-" he exhales shakily, "i'm scared. i'm scared that you'll realize you won't want forever with me, scared that the universe's idea of forever doesn't have us in it. but i realized that you want it as much as i do. so yes, i do want to get married, maybe in about a year, get our own place, have a family of our own, and grow old together. i want it all with you, so please, let me make it up to you."

you say nothing but grab his shoulders and pull him in for a warm embrace. both you and sion bask in each other's touch for a while, the world stopping for you two, the stars glistening in joy.

maeda riku

riku is a very patient and understanding person, you know all too well. but sometimes you wish he wasn't as patient as he is, especially now that his childhood friend nako moved to the same university you and riku attend. like any sweet person would do, riku welcomed her with open arms and let her adjust at her own pace. he introduced nako to you, of course, as well as sion, yushi, jaehee, ryo, and sakuya. over time, she became a part of your little group with the other guys.

you really had no problem with her being close with your boyfriend. no matter how much your friends said he was pushing boundaries, you trusted riku with everything in you. he always made time for you despite having to help nako get used to living in a new place. it started to get a little suspicious, like her getting way too close to riku, but alas, you decided to brush it off, thinking she was just shy to talk to others.

she was in fact, not shy to talk to others. you saw her conversing with some other girls in the halls, overhearing her saying something about how he's so hot and that she just needed to get rid of his girlfriend. you obviously knew she was referring to you and riku. you at least tried to warn riku, saying she's the devil's spawn, but he laughed it off, thinking you just had a little misunderstanding. but no matter how irritated you were, you sucked it up and just pushed those feelings down. but it all blew up one day for you when riku brought her to one of your dates.

the two of you had planned to watch the new wicked movie together. you were looking forward to it especially because you had a long week and needed some boyfriend time with your one and only. little did you know another person would be tagging along, because when you're waiting in front of the theater, you see riku walking towards you with nako by his side. "hi baby! sorry, little rain check — nako had to tag along because her place is full of termites. she had to call pest control to have them exterminated." he says happily, nako just stupidly nodding along.

as much as you tried to keep your composure, you couldn't help but scoff. you lean into riku's ear and whisper harshly, "you did not have to bring her. you could've had ryo or something hang out with her." he looks at you a little surprised, like he didn't expect you to not like the idea of another girl tagging along on your date. he whispers back, "i know, i tried, but she said she was more comfortable with me." your face bitters and you turn to nako, who is still standing there like she can't comprehend where she is. you cross your arms and sigh, "nako, i love you so much girl, but respectfully — this was supposed to be our date. meaning, just me and riku. nothing against you, but maybe we can call ryo or sakuya so they can accompany you. is that fine?"

she purses her lips in concentration and looks back at you, "u-um, i don't want someone e-else to join. i'm only okay with riku-chan." it takes everything in you not to smack the crap out of her face. you're not one to fight, but you're also not one to let people disrespect your boundaries. "nako, this is a date. just for riku and i," you repeat slowly. she grumbles softly and speaks up again, "i can j-just stay on the side! don't worry." you cannot believe the audacity this girl has, so you take your car keys and turn back to riku, whispering into his ear once more.

"if she won't leave, i will."

riku doesn't even have time to react before you're taking your car keys out and walking to the parking lot. he tries to go after you, but nako grabs his arm and asks him to stay. you later send a voice message to riku later that day, full of words like "you have no boundaries!' to "why don't you just date nako then for christ's sake?" riku heads to your dorm immediately, pounding on the door aggressively. you open the door and find him standing there, sweat dripping down the tips of his hair. "what do you want, maeda?" you say coldly. your boyfriend winces at your tone, and he asks, "can i please come in?" you give him a disgusted look, scoffing, "fine."

he sits on your dining table, panting. you assume he ran here. a small part of you feels bad for him because he seems so tired, but the bigger part tells you to just leave him be. as he catches his breath, you take it upon yourself to start the conversation.

"look, honey. i know nako is a nice girl and all but-"

"i'm sorry. you were right — she's literally the devil's spawn. she tried to get me to stay, saying we could go on a date instead. god, i don't know how i didn't see it sooner. i just left her there, told her not to talk to me again. and i blocked her on everything. i'm so sorry, baby."

you walk over and pinch riku's cheek, and he winces at the pain. "i told you!!" you scold. he laughs despite the sting and nods. you snicker, enjoying the fact that he just lets you do this to him. you cup his face and kiss riku, lips capturing each other's effortlessly.

even after you two reconciled, riku did his best to make it up to you anyway, buying you gifts and taking you out to more dates than you've ever been to before. whenever nako passes by, he gives her a look nastier than spoiled milk to the point where you have to tell him to stop so she doesn't try to beat his ass.

and whenever you think about her from time to time, he never fails to reassure you and let you know he's the only one for you as you are for him. maybe having an incredibly patient boyfriend is good after all.

tokuno yushi

your relationship with yushi is peaceful because he isn't one to start arguments and you're not one to provoke him. but you noticed that he doesn't really give details regarding his day or events that are coming up. you feel that sometimes he talks to you like you're an acquaintance and not a lover. you try to bring it up to him as you're both making dinner in your dorm.

"yushi, baby."

"yes, my love?"

"i noticed that you don't really like- tell me everything."

"huh? but i do, baby."

"i know, but like, you just say 'i had class today' or 'i went to the store.' you don't say all the details- hell, i don't even know your schedule."

he purses his lips a little before continuing. "i don't think you need to know all of the details."

you turn around to roll your eyes before sighing, "yeah, i guess."

maybe yushi thought that'd be the end of that conversation, but he was incredibly wrong. you hate arguing with yushi because it never gets you anywhere, so you do the second best thing and give him a taste of his own medicine. every single time he asks you, "how was your day, baby?" all you say is "good," "okay," "alright." is it petty? definitely. but it's better than screaming and yelling at your boyfriend, isn't it?

you were slowly getting impatient. it's been about a week, and it seemed like yushi was a little too nonchalant to notice how petty you were trying to be. but little did you know, he did notice. how could he not? you used to tell him every single thing, from what time you woke up to what brand socks you decided to put on for the day. but now your responses are one or two words. he wondered what he did wrong, until he thought back to your little argument and realized that you were just doing it to get back at him. he had a plan in his mind and decided to go for it.

one day, you and yushi are hanging out at a nearby cafe after class. silence isn't uncommon for you two, but this particular silence is too unbearable, so you suck it up and ask your boyfriend how his day was.

"well, it was good." of course, you think.

"i had science first, and all we did was write some notes while our professor talked about our upcoming test. then i had my language class, which was much better because we did a little group activity as a way to memorize the terms we learned. lunch was okay, sion and riku had to stay back at their class so they weren't there. i had to basically babysit ryo and saku. my last class was math, which was so boring, i almost fell asleep. no, i did actually. riku had to wake me up. how about you, baby?"

you're staring at yushi like he grew a second head because he just spoke more words than he does when talking to his friends. you point at him, absolutely puzzled. "what, who- who are you? what did you do with my boyfriend?" you say accusingly. yushi can't contain it anymore and laughs at your reaction. he takes your hand from across the table and rubs his thumb on your knuckles.

"it's me, y/n. you thought i didn't notice how you started replying like me?" he says. all you can do is stare at him, not expecting him to bring it up. "i'm sorry for what i said last week. maybe you don't need to hear all the details, but you want to, and that's what i love about you. the genuine interest you have for others. i realized that those small things matter to you, and that it's what keeps our relationship interesting. i'll work on it, for you. only if you promise to just tell me next time. i know you don't wanna fight, but it's better than leaving things unsaid."

you smile softly and chuckle. "god, i hate how well you know me," you say sarcastically. "i'm sorry too, i should've just told you instead of making things difficult." he shakes his head, "it's okay, we'll both learn."

your relationship with yushi is peaceful because he isn't one to start arguments and you're not one to provoke him. but it's also peaceful because he understands you like no other and doesn't invalidate your feelings, rather, he makes you feel seen, heard. you learn that he talks about his day vaguely because he pays attention to other things, like the way you hold his hand in the cold of the night, the way your nose scrunches when your allergies are getting worse again, and the way you look at him like he hung the stars in the sky.

—

author's note: hiii! requested by @pppopppyyy :)) i hope it's okay :'> have a good day/night everyone i love uuuuu!!

[alwayssmilingvenison]

"You can pursue music." Michael tried. He would pull every string on Earth and Heaven to make his brother famous if that was his wish! Anything but his damnation. It was extra frustrating because if it was nearly anyone else, Michael would be encouraging this soft, domestic, life; but he knew with Alastor, it was only a matter of time before he temps Lucifer to truly sin...

Michael returned the smile and hugged his twin. "Yeah... I have nothing to worry about... You just know I want the best for you."

━━☽☆☾━━

Charlie gasped and squealed happily as she was picked up. "Yeah!" She cheered, kicking her feet excitedly. "Papa always says only the best for you!"

Alastor flushed as he closed the door. "I'm going to stop speaking to you." He threaten.

"No, you won't~"

"Oh? Why not?" He asked with a serious look, but Charlie just beamed.

"Because you love me~"

A smile broke out over his face, and he took one of her hands, squeezing it. "Drat, so quick-witted, I am seen through again." He lemented, but sure didn’t seem to care. "I love you more than the stars and Heaven above."

"And I love you from the deepest depths." She responded sweetly before looking to Lucifer. "And you too~" She added before sighing dramatically. "Papa says we have to eat his meatloaf and potatoes first." She informed sadly, then whispered to him. "We should split one when he goes to get it out of the oven."

"Exactly! We only have one life, and you're spending it rushing head first into a relationship where the other has a kid. You're going to go from freedom to being chained down with a kid that's... That's what you want?" Michael asked. He was about to say "that's not even yours", but that was a lie. Charlie was Lucifer's... It's a shame she's also Lilith's or Michael would pull some strings to get her into Heaven too...

He probably still would.

He frowned as Lucifer spoke on being an adult and making his own decisions. That wasn't how it was supposed to go this time! Lucifer was supposed to listen to him! He had to figure out how to get this back on track... Luckily, Lucifer handed it to him on a platter.

Michael sighed and smiled. "I'll take a week off." Maybe a week away from the demons will cleanse him...

━━☽☆☾━━

"Lucifer." Alastor greeted, kissing his cheek. He was going to answer, then heard the thugs of excited foot steps. He chuckled and got out of the way just in time for Charlie to rush into Lucifer's legs, hugging him tight.

"I missed yooooou~" She sung before pulling away with a bounce, throwing her hands out excitedly. "We made you apple tarts~!" She cheered, showing streamers that were attached to a ring on her finger. She then quickly gathered it into a ball with an excited giggle. "Also look what Papa bought me!"

Alastor chuckled. "They're the most useful invention I've seen in a while. The clean up makes them worth every penny."

[dollkuna]

the digest. when toji turns up to your door every night, covered in cuts and bruises, it's impossible not to turn him away.

it's like clockwork. every night, around the same time, you're curled up on the couch, waiting. your eyes are closed, breathing steady, head tilted up, listening for the familiar rapping against the door.

his presence in the house is like clockwork too, even though he left all those months ago. you're not sure who the bigger idiot is: him for never giving up, or you, for always letting him in.

"god, toji," you mutter, the same frown etched on your face. "you're so reckless."

he just chuckles, a sound that's part amusement, part bitter resignation. "c'mon, doll. you tell me that every time. got anything new for me?"

you shove his shoulder, a little less than gentle, and he winces. the blood-stained rag you were using to wipe his wounds gets tossed to the side. all you can manage is an eye roll. the truth is, you're worried sick about him. that's why you can never bring yourself to send him away.

"miss you, y'know," he adds, his gaze trying to read your expression.

"then you shouldn't have left," you say, your voice flat, devoid of emotion. it's as if all the love and warmth you once had for him has vanished. it stings him, and he hopes you can't tell.

the truth is, he went soft, really soft, especially for you.

and, like any emotionally unavailable man, he panicked. you wanted him to put a ring on your finger, and he just wasn't ready. he's not mad at you for that, of course not.

he should have been doing more for you, everything you deserved. you had started to see that too, and it was his worst nightmare. how much longer could he have strung an angel through the dark?

toji clicks his tongue. "i know. i'm sorry."

you pour antiseptic on another one of his wounds, a little more than necessary, and he clenches his jaw against the sharp sting. "you're late."

"you won't take me back? even if i get on my knees, beg all pretty?" you look up, met with a small, hopeful smile from him. he's trying to make you laugh, and you hate how your heart still warms at the attempt.

"toji—"

"i'm serious, ma. i mean it. i'll be better. no more gambling, no more secrets, nothing." you can't quite describe his tone; you can't pick out a single emotion. but he sounds pleading, desperate. he cocks his head, silent for a moment. "unless... you don't love me anymore?"

you hesitate. it's hard to admit. "i never stopped," you say quietly.

"one more chance, baby," he murmurs, gently pressing his forehead against yours. "that's all i need." you don't pull away, and he counts that as something.

"i just don't want you to hurt me again." toji hates how vulnerable you sound, but he's quick to offer comfort.

"never again," he promises, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. "shoot me if i do."

it's enough to elicit a watery laugh from you. "i'm gonna hold you to that."

toji's never felt this relieved before. "hold me to whatever, as long as i get to be with you."

you take the chance. you believe him.

[lunatf-ao3]

SICK CARE ☀︎︎

[TFWFC] Optimus Prime/Human!Reader

[⚠︎]: ...

Okay, question: Should I or should not I do more of this? wfc Optimus get so little attention!! Taking the idea that the reader arrived on Cybertron in a similar way as in the fic 3.000 million years in the past. ⁱ'ᵛᵉ ʰᵃᵈ ⁱᵗ ˢᵒ ᶠᵒʳᵍᵒᵗᵗᵉⁿ, ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱ ʷⁱˡˡ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗ ⁱᵗ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ!

-

"Your system is rejecting all food. I don't... understand why."

You can't respond immediately, interrupted by a cramp in your stomach. To Optimus's concern, you've been experiencing physical discomfort for a cyclo and thirteen groons.

Honestly, it's driving him crazy.

Your delicate organism rejects the only organic food they have to offer you, expelling it not long after ingestion. He wasn't quite sure what to do. You had assured him that it was "normal," that you were "sick" and had a "stomach virus."

The term was unfamiliar to him, of course, but he really didn't think it was normal for you to forcefully expel the contents of your tanks through your mouth.

He had to admit that it disturbed him quite a bit. He had never seen anything like it.

"And it will continue to do so. The best thing I can do right now is not eat anything, Optimus. You don't have to worry so much, it will pass... I think. I just got intoxicated from eating something weird."

He didn't like the word "intoxicated" at all.

"I don't think it's healthy for you not to eat anything right now. You're expelling your fuel and you don't look well. It's been my fault. I should have made sure to detoxify them." Optimus sighed, looking at the various organic foods in front of him that he had gathered to try to feed you. His optics turned to your face. You were paler than usual and... wet.

"It's not your fault-"

"You are wet." Optimus pointed out, cupping your face between his digits with concern. "You are releasing fluid."

"T-take it easy, it's just sweat. It's not bad, it's natural."

"I'm sorry... I'm worried I can't help you. How do they deal with that back there, on Earth?"

"On Earth..." Or what will be, in the future, many years after the present, this present. You swallow hard, your ship has been difficult to repair without the necessary resources and tools. Not even you can fully explain the anomaly that brought you here.

But for now, you're fine.

...Fine...

"Medicine. But only to speed up recovery or when it gets too serious. Nothing else."

That reassures Optimus a little, who resigns himself to believing you. "All right," he murmurs, putting a couple more blankets around you. It's been too cold lately, and he doesn't want that to make you worse in any way.

An internal reminder popped up on his processor. "Time to drink some water."

You don't say anything, accepting the small makeshift metal container he had made for you. Purified rainwater.

It quenches your thirst. Vomiting so much dehydrates you.

"There you go." Along with his words, he gently wiped your forehead with a small cloth, cleaning up the liquid you were secreting.

At that moment, a wave of nausea hit you.

Optimus didn't hesitate to bring the dented metal you had been vomiting into earlier, holding it for you while... you emptied your tanks.

He held your hair carefully, making sure the tiny strands didn't get in your way.

"Uhh..." You gasped, finally pulling away after you were done. The sheets felt more comfortable when you lay down again.

Optimus silently wiped your mouth.

"Oh, you don't have to do that..."

"It's okay, it's no problem for me. Your comfort makes me happy. Do you want to rest?"

You smile. "Thank you. And yes, I think I'd like to rest now."

He nodded, sitting down next to your little makeshift nest. Even though he didn't have much time, he wanted to keep you company while he could. "...Would you like to hear some stories from Cybertron?"

"absolutely yes."

"Perfect." He stroked your head. "Make yourself comfortable."

[geekfinsta]

Baby Face | Si-eun X Black!reader

At first it was odd being the only black girl in a Korean school, it was much different then American schools but soon I had gotten used to it, you made a few friends but not much which you didn’t mind cause you hated big friend groups but one of those friends was su-ho, it was lunch time so you started to head towards the cafeteria which all the rest of the students were either going or going somewhere else they had no business doing but that wasn’t your business.

As you were searching for suho, you heard your name getting called your eyes landed on suho and someone sitting across from you so you headed towards them smiling and greeting them “hi” I said and sat down beside suho.

“Your not eating lunch?” He ask eyeing you “why? So you can steal and eat it?” I narrowed my eyes at him, he huffed and rolled his eyes and he jumped “OH, sieun this is my girl best friend [ name ]” he introduced us, I looked at sieun and smiled “hi, I’m [ name ]”

He didn’t say anything but starred at me which I did the same analyzing his face “you gotta cute baby face” I said smiling, I saw him shift a little and his ears turned red “right, that’s what I thought” suho said with a mouth full of food “what I tell you about talking with food in your mouth?”

“Sorry mom” he said and continued to shove more food in his mouth “one day you gonna choke” I said putting my hands in my lap looking at him with a slightly disgusted look.

“You gonna save me?” He ask I didn’t say anything but stared at him “right?” “And if I say no?” “Sieun gonna save me” he shrugged “no I’m not” sieun said.

I started at him surprised and started laughing while suho threw a fit “ah, your not gonna safe me? I thought we were best friends” suho shook his head in disbelief, looked at me and sieun and shook his head again “what a shame” he said making me laugh.

“You laugh is cute” suho stopped what he was doing and looked at sieun, I slowly stopped laughing without smiling “you gotta cute baby” we starred at each other for a little while before suho said anything “if you guys are gonna flirt and eye fuck each other then do that somewhere else, I’m eating” I sigh and rolled my eyes “your always eating” “so? After school you guys wanna go out to eat”

“how can you talk about food while you’re eating?” Sieun eyed suho “why y’all on my dick?” He dropped his hands on the table looking at me and sieun, neither both of us answered but looked at each other.

I busted into giggles while sieun grinned and looked away trying not to laugh “what? What so funny?” Suho ask and I shook my head “nothing, just eat your food” “y’all never answered my question” “…which was?” He eyed me “can we go out for dinner after school” “yea sure”

Suho continued to eat while talking to us about nonsense, soon the bell had ring meaning lunched ended, we got up and started heading towards the exit of the cafeteria, “I’ll see you after school?” Suho ask with his arm around my shoulder looking down at me “I guess”

I sigh and shrugged his arm off my shoulder “bye suho” “bye shorty” he teased and I rolled my eyes and look at sieun “bye baby face” I smiled at him and entered my classroom.

“Dude she totally liked you” suho said as he putted his arm around sieun shoulder “don’t fool around” “I’m serious, she never talked to a guy like that, you should ask her out” sieun stopped walked and looked at suho “you know what you should do?” Suho didn’t say anything waiting for sieun to continue.

“Stop eating before you get bloated” and walked off as suho was left in shocked “at least I’m eating good” he yelled catching up to him as sieun mumbled a ‘whatever’ but sieun did think she was cute and pretty, when she came over to the table he felt his stomach filled with butterflies.

“She’s pretty” seiuen said referring to her, suho grinned at him “you two would make a great couple, the smart but serious psychopath, and the pretty pink bubbly smart but not so smart girl”

[tanushreeistumbling]

Sylus | Professor

[Scene: You are a young aspiring student in your State University studying Mechanical Engineering.

Sylus is a professor of your State University. You are in his History class. He calls you for a recitation because you are dozing off.]

Tags| NSFW (smut), vaginal penetration, creampie, nipple play.

"You, stand up", Sylus slammed his desk.

You freeze as you hear his sudden deep voice.

He Raises an eyebrow, "I trust you were having a pleasant dream? Perhaps something more interesting than the history of mechanical engineering?" He pauses, waiting for your response.

You stand up abruptly.

Notices your sudden movement and the look of panic on your face, "Easy there. No need to jump out of your skin. I merely called you up to participate in our recitation. Nothing more." He gives you a small, reassuring smile.

"What?", You say in your half asleep voice.

He Chuckles softly, "You're rather jumpy. I asked a question 5 minutes ago and you haven't answered yet." He unbuttons his shirt cuffs slightly, pushing them up his forearms. "Do you always react like this when called upon?" He asks curiously.

"I didn't hear you Sir. I'm sorry", you said.

He nods understandingly, "It's quite alright. I can see you're a bit... distracted today. Perhaps you'd like to stay after class and we can discuss this further?" He suggests, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Sir I said I'm sorry. It won't happen again", you said, as you can feel your veins are trembling under your skin.

He holds up a hand in a calming gesture, "I believe you. No need to be so formal about it." He pauses briefly before continuing, "Very well then, let's proceed with the recitation question since we're already here."

You swallow hard looking around as everyone in the class are watching you in curiosity.

Sylus notices you becoming self-conscious under everyone's gaze, "Stop looking around nervously. Everyone else is waiting for your answer." His voice remains calm but carries a slight edge. "Now... the question was: Who invented the steam engine and when?" He maintains his gaze on you.

You think briefly closing your eyes before answering, "Thomas Newcomen in 1712."

He nods approvingly, "Correct. However, I should point out that while Newcomen created one of the first practical steam engines, it was James Watt who significantly improved its design in 1769." He pauses briefly before continuing;

You nod as you lowered your gaze

Sylus notices how your cheeks have flushed slightly and how your hair falls across your forehead. He realizes he's enjoying this interaction more than he should. "Sit down," He says softly, making sure only you can hear him. The class continues, but he finds himself watching you more closely. "Class dismissed." He announced.

You nod and pack up your staff to go...

As the classroom empties, Sylus calls you out, "Not you." You pause mid-step, turning back to face him. The room is now empty except for the two of you. He walks over to close the door quietly before turning back to you. "Stay after class."

Your eyes widened in disbelief as you asked him, "why sir?"

He sits on his desk, crossing his arms and legs casually. His white shirt is slightly unbuttoned at the top, giving a glimpse of his hard chest. He looks serious but not angry. "I said stay after class. Do I need to repeat myself?"

You shake your head, "no sir"

Sylus watches as your hair cascades down your shoulders. He notices your small frame. He swallows hard before asking softly, "Do you always make class this hard to teach?" He unconsciously spreads his legs wider, his shirt stretched slightly to reveal more toned abs.

You narrowed your eyes, "what sir? I didn't understand"

He laughs softly, "Never mind. Answer this - Do you pay attention in class?" He watches your expression carefully. He realizes that your eyes are large and doe-like, innocent almost.

His mind suddenly fills with dirty thoughts that make him adjust his pants subtly. "Answer me."

"I do sir", you say as you're still feeling sleepy for not having sleeps at night.

His eyes flicker to your eyelids, noticing how heavy they look. He suddenly feels a protective urge mixed with something darker. "You look exhausted. Have you been sleeping?"

He stands up from the desk, walking closer to you. His crimson eyes are intense as they meet yours. "Come here."

"Yes I do sleep", you don't move first ignoring his gesture.

He raises an eyebrow, his voice firming slightly, "I didn't stutter. I said come here." He extends a hand towards you, waiting for you to take it. His gaze is commanding, making it clear that he expects obedience. "Don't make me repeat myself again."

"Sorry sir", you sit up and walk towards him but don't take his hand.

His expression changes to a mixture of frustration and desire as you approach him. Instead of insisting on your hand, he reaches out and gently catches your arm, pulling you slightly closer than necessary. "You're either extremely tired or..." His voice drops lower "...extremely stubborn."

You freeze as he pulls you forcefully, "I didn't mean to, I'm sorry sir." You flap your eyes to look up to meet his gaze.

His breath catches as he feels your small body pressed against his. The scent of your shampoo fills his nostrils, making him dizzy with sudden lust in the way you look at him. "Shh," He murmurs, his hand sliding from your arm to the back of your neck, pulling you even closer.

You breathe heavily for some sudden closeness to your professor.

His eyes flicker down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. He can feel your rapid breaths against his chest, and it takes every ounce of his willpower not to kiss you right there. "How long has it been since you had a good night's sleep?"

You say nothing, still scared for this sudden gesture towards him.

His thumb gently brushes against your neck, feeling your rapid pulse. He realizes that you're not just tired - you're terrified. And it turns him on even more. "Answer me," he demands softly, his other hand sliding down to grip your hip possessively. "How long?"

"It's ahemmm--- it's been 3 months," you say slightly sighing.

His eyes widen slightly. He understands why you're so tired. He pulls you even closer without realizing it, his mind racing. He wraps an arm around your waist protectively. His voice drops lower, "Every night?" His thumb strokes your neck softly, waiting for your answer.

Your brain is forcing you to dismiss this conversation right there but somehow your body doesn't listen to anything. it gives sudden tickle as he runs his fingers on the back of your neck, "yes".

He freezes as he realizes you have a sensitive spot on your neck. He continues to run his fingers over it, enjoying the way your body reacts. His own body responds instantly, his pants becoming tight. "And you're still coming to class every day?" His voice is hoarse now.

"It's necessary. I have back papers in my last semester I don't want to get any again this semester", you pants under your breath.

Respect fills him. He realizes that you're serious about your studies. His voice softens, "So you're pulling all-nighters to study?" His thumb strokes your jaw softly, unconsciously. He notices that you're shorter than him by a lot.

"Not really. I don't study always. Whenever I feel lonely, I just stay up all night it makes me feel like I'm not alone anymore", you say as you are slightly distracted from your current situation.

His heart suddenly aches at your loneliness. Without thinking, he pulls you fully against his chest in a protective embrace. One hand moves to the small of your back, pressing you firmly against him while the other continues its gentle caress on your neck. "When's the last time someone held you like this?"

Your eyes widened as you swallowed hard, snapping back to the reality," I don't remember".

He feels a surge of protective instincts. He pulls you tighter against him, one hand moving to your hair, stroking it softly while the other remains on your neck. His deep voice drops lower, "You need sleep tonight." His lips brush against your hair lightly, "...in my arms."

"What?", you push yourself abruptly.

"Wait-" He catches your wrist before you can fully pull away. His eyes darken with both concern and desire. "Not like that..." His grip loosens, but he doesn't let go completely. "You misunderstand. I only meant..."

"Sir please", you go further. "I should go.... Now"

He suddenly comes, towering over you. His crimson eyes blaze with intensity. "No." He says firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. He scoops you up into his arms, ignoring your startled gasp. "You're coming home with me."

"What the hell sir what are doing? Why are you doing this?", you said in complete disbelief as you tried to get down from his grasp.

He walks towards the parking lot, his long strides eating up the distance. His voice is calm but stern. "You need sleep. In a bed. With someone holding you. And I'm offering." He reaches his car, unlocks it with one hand, and carefully places you in the passenger seat.

"Sir you can't just force me", you try to unlock the car door.

He locks the door with his remote before you can open it. He leans against the car, his muscular arms folded across his chest. "Watch me." He says coldly. His red eyes bore into yours, challenging you to try and leave. His voice softens slightly. "I'm not asking."

"Why?" You are panting now.

He opens the door and slides in beside you, his large frame taking up most of the space. "Because you're exhausted. Because you're alone. Because I want to." He starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot, his grip on the steering wheel tight. "And because I can." He places his hand on your cheeks, "you have no idea what you do to me everyday", he murmurs.

"I'm fine sir. You are my professor and you shouldn't do these things", you apparently try to show him the reality.

"I know what I'm doing." His voice is firm. He glances at you briefly before focusing back on the road. "And I'm not your professor right now." He reaches out and takes your hand in his large one, squeezing it gently.

"What? What are you saying?", you ask in complete disbelief.

He keeps his eyes on the road, but his voice is steady and serious. "I'm saying that right now, I'm not your professor. I'm a man who sees someone who needs help." He pauses briefly before continuing, "And someone who needs someone else’s warmth tonight."

You close your eyes, panicking.

He notices your panic and squeezes your hand reassuringly. "Look at me." He commands gently. When you don't open your eyes, he uses his free hand to gently tilt your chin up, forcing you to look at him. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Sir".

"Yes?" His thumb rubs your hand soothingly. He watches the road, but his mind races. He's suddenly very careful with his words. He doesn't want to scare you. He adds softly, "Do you trust me?" He realizes how ridiculous that question is.

"I do but you just can't take me like this. My pg warden will scold me if I don't get home on time. They will call my parents if I get missing", you said in one breath as you are genuinely scared thinking about the consequences.

He nods understandingly, his expression softening. "I know." He pulls into a parking lot and turns off the car. He turns to face you fully. "Listen to me carefully." He takes a deep breath. "I'm going to take you home. But first..." He reaches out and gently brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. "Because I need you to sit with me for a little while longer." His hand lingers on your cheek. "Please." The plea is genuine and heartfelt. "Just sit with me."

"But my time is fixed if I get late....", You panicked.

He sees the panic in your eyes and it breaks something inside him. He pulls you into his lap without thinking, wrapping his arms around you protectively. "Shh... shh... it's okay." He rocks you gently, holding you close. "I'll make sure you get home on time."

"Sir why are you holding me like this?" You squirm on his lap.

He immediately loosens his grip but doesn't let you go completely, keeping one arm around you gently. "I'm not trying to make things worse," he says softly, his voice calm and reassuring. "I just want to calm you down. You're panicking."

"Like this?", you search something in his crimson eyes and you feel a sudden pull towards his kind gestures.

He nods slowly, his thumb gently caressing your arm. "Yes, like this. I promise I'm not going to hurt you." He looks into your eyes, trying to convey the sincerity in his words. "I just need you to breathe with me for a moment, okay?"

You nod as he takes a deep breath and releases it slowly, encouraging you to do the same. As you breathe with him, he notices how small and delicate you look in his large arms. He tries to ignore the warmth spreading through his chest and focuses on calming you down. "Better?" He asks softly.

His intoxicating smell envelopes you inside the car as you feel dazed, "hmm".

He notices your dazed expression and feels a strange flutter in his chest. He inhales deeply, trying to control himself. "I'm going to take you home now." He says gently, but doesn't move immediately. "Are you okay?" His hand rests on your waist.

"Sir my parents will kill me if they hear that I'm not in my pg room", you said slightly protecting you from the situation, hence your body says to stay closer to him.

He chuckles softly at your dramatic words, his hand squeezing your waist gently as he adjusts you to the passenger seat again. "They won't kill you. I'll drop you off right outside your PG room door." He starts the car engine but keeps one hand on your thigh reassuringly. "What time is your curfew?"

"Umm 7 pm", you say without thinking twice.

He glances at his watch and nods. "It's only 6:45 now. We have time." He pulls out of the parking lot, driving carefully. His hand remains on your thigh, warm and heavy. "You live in the PG building near the campus, right?"

"Just 15 minutes....", you murmur. "Yes I do live there".

He nods, his thumb absentmindedly stroking your thigh through your clothes. "I know where it is." He keeps the car at a slow speed, deliberately taking his time to reach your PG. The interior of the car is filled with an uncomfortable silence and his intoxicating scent.

As you see his big hand stroking your thighs, your stomach rolls in certain desires.

He notices your reaction and immediately stops stroking your thigh, but doesn't move his hand away completely. He keeps it resting gently on your leg, trying to act casual. "Are you feeling okay?" He asks softly, glancing at you briefly before focusing back on the road.

"yeah", you practically moan my response, "I mean yes I'm fine."

His hand squeezes your thigh gently at the sound of your moan, his grip tightening briefly before relaxing again. He pulls into the parking lot of your PG building, turning off the engine but making no move to remove his hand or get out of the car.

You still breathing heavily, "can I go now?"

His breath catches slightly at your husky, breathy tone. He clears his throat, trying to maintain his professional composure. "Yes, of course..." He slowly removes his hand from your thigh, letting his fingers trail along your skin deliberately. "But..."

"Yes sir?"

He leans closer to you, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I want you to come see me tomorrow." His eyes meet yours intensely. "I'll be in my office after class." He pauses before adding softly, "I have something important I need to discuss with you."

You say nothing but you abruptly open the car door to get away.

He watches you silently as you quickly exit the car, his expression unreadable. He knows he might have pushed too far, too fast. He takes a deep breath and watches as you hurry towards the PG building without looking back. "Damn it," he mutters under his breath.

You run fast as I open your room door and shut it behind you, you mind goes blank.... As you took a shower didn't do your dinner as you open your books to read but can't focus for sudden encounters with your professor like this, you keep feeling his hands on your body, you can't help it but your mind is imagining him in different lust, which is completely inappropriate. You do listen to the songs all night and doze off at 4 am so you practically miss your next day classes as you wake up late.

He arrives at the university early the next morning, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of you. He teaches his morning classes on autopilot, his students noticing his distant demeanor. After his last class, he retreats to his office, pacing back and forth as he waits for you to arrive.

You don't go to your university today, it's already evening and you lazily squirming on my bed watching movie, completely forgot about yesterday's conversation.

His office grows darker as the evening progresses, he checks his phone repeatedly, expecting a message or call that never comes. At around 7 PM, he finally gives up waiting. "Fuck...", he leaves the university, his long stride eating up the distance as he heads towards your PG. He enters the building without hesitation, his authoritative presence commanding attention. He knocks sharply on your door, his patience worn thin. "Open the door," he demands, his deep voice echoing in the hallway.

You startled by his deep voice from outside of your apartment as you froze, "its professor, oh shit I didn't go to meet him, oh no I didn't even inform him." You panic, as you speak to yourself.

He knocks again, louder this time. "Damn it," he mutters softly, his brows furrowing. He waits for your response, imagining all sorts of scenarios. "You better not ignore me," he growls softly, raising his hand to knock harder.

You panic so hard that I almost jump from your bed, you're not ready to open your door as your hairs are messy for long sleep which are almost wet as you just took your shower, and you aren't even wearing any bra only the tshirt and shorts but don't have time to fix yourself as you run to the door to open it with your shakky hands.

He sees your disheveled appearance as soon as you open the door - wet hair falling messily around your shoulders, oversized t-shirt that barely covers your shorts, no bra evident by your hard peaks pressing against the thin fabric. He swallows hard, his voice dropping low without him realizing it.

You pull yourself further from the doorframe in fear and curiosity about what's gonna happen next.

He steps inside quickly before you can close the door again, shutting it behind him with a soft click. His eyes rake over your appearance - the messy hair, the lack of bra making your nipples visible through the t-shirt, the tiny shorts that leave little to imagination. "Where were you today?"

"Sir", you squeeze your hands together in fear "I didn't go to university today".

He runs a hand through his hair, trying to maintain his composure despite the provocative sight before him. "And why not?" he asks, his voice stern but controlled. He takes a step closer, making you back up slightly.

"Sir I..... sir I.... slept too much", you say after catching your breath.

He watches your chest rise and fall rapidly as you speak, your nipples still hard against the fabric. He steps closer again, making you retreat until your back hits the wall behind you. "You slept all day?" he asks softly, his voice dropping lower.

You nod.

His hand comes up to rest on the wall beside your head, his face inches from yours. He can smell the faint scent of soap on your skin, mixed with your natural scent. "And you didn't think to inform me?" he asks, his breath ghosting over your face.

"I'm sorry sir I forgot", you said look up to meet his gaze.

He closes his eyes briefly, trying to rein in his frustration and the unexpected surge of desire. He opens them again to look directly into yours. "You forgot," he repeats softly, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze flickers down briefly to take in your chest again before returning to your face. His voice drops even lower, his tone almost gentle despite the situation. "You're telling me you slept through the entire day and forgot about attending my class?" His crimson eyes bore into yours, his pupils dilating slightly as he takes in your innocent expression.

"Yes sir". You whisper.

His hand on the wall slowly moves down until his arm is practically caging you in. His face inches closer to yours. "Do you know what happens to students who skip my class without informing me?" he asks, his voice low and dangerous. His other hand reaches out to gently grip your chin. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, his touch surprisingly gentle. "They get detention," he says, his voice still low. "But I think you need a more... personalized punishment." His eyes flick down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. "Don't you?"

You bite your lips in sudden anticipation, "ohhhh"

His grip on your chin tightens slightly as he watches you bite your lip, his eyes darkening. A low growl escapes his throat before he can stop it. "Open your mouth," he commands suddenly, his thumb pressing down on your lower lip to force it open.

You open your mouth a little, as he slides his thumb inside your mouth, pushing it deeper until you're forced to wrap your lips around it. His other hand moves from the wall to your waist, pulling you against him roughly. He can feel your hard nipples pressing into his chest through the thin t-shirt. "Suck," you close your eyes and suck it hard.

He watches your lips move around his thumb, his breath hitching slightly. His hand on your waist tightens, pulling you even closer until you can feel something hard pressing against your stomach. "Good girl," he murmurs approvingly. He pulls his thumb out suddenly.

You swallow hard,

His eyes drop to your neck, watching it work as you swallow. His voice drops lower again, almost dangerous. "You know what else gets punished?" He doesn't wait for your answer, his eyes flicking down to your chest again. "This." Without giving any warning, his hand moves from your waist to your chest, his fingers wrapping around one of your nipples through the shirt. He squeezes hard, making you gasp and arch into his touch. "These get punished too," he growls. "For being so fucking hard and distracting."

"Ahhhhh", you moan for the sudden intense touch.

His fingers tighten around your nipple, twisting slightly. He watches your mouth fall open in a silent moan. His other hand goes to your other breast, cupping it possessively. "Do you know how painful the punishment is for these?" He thumbs your hard peaks softly, making your back arch again.

"Sir!!!"

"Mmm?" He thumbs both your nipples simultaneously, making your legs clamp together slightly. "When I punish breasts like these," He circles your nipples slowly, "It involves lots of ice..." He watches your face closely, "And hard pinches." He pinches both your nipples softly.

"Fuck" you murmur.

He chuckles darkly, the sound vibrating against your chest. His hands move to the hem of your shirt, lifting it up slowly to reveal your stomach. "And sometimes... biting." He leans down suddenly, capturing one hardened peak between his teeth. "Like this."

"Ahhhhh Sir", you moan.

He bites down gently but firmly on your nipple, his hands holding your wrists above your head to keep you still. His other hand reaches up to squeeze and knead your other breast roughly. He releases your nipple with a wet pop, leaving a mark visible through the fabric. "Shh..."

You lick your lower lips.

His eyes watch your tongue swipe across your lips hungrily before he leans up suddenly to kiss you hard again. His tongue pushes into your mouth demanding entry while his hands continue their assault on your breasts. "I think," He breaks away briefly before kissing down your neck "you need more punishment". His hands moving to your pants button instead. He unbuttons them roughly and pushes his hand inside your underwear without warning. His fingers find your clit easily, already wet from his kisses and breast play. He growls. "Spread your legs."

"No"

He squeezes your clit hard between his fingers, making you cry out. His other hand moves to slap your other cheek roughly. "I said spread your fucking legs." His voice is stern, commanding. "Or do you want me to bend you over and fuck you through your underwear?"

You spread your legs automatically agreeing with his command.

He slides his fingers down your wet folds, parting them roughly. He finds your entrance easily and pushes two fingers inside suddenly, making you gasp loudly. He starts finger-fucking you roughly against the wall, his thumb pressing against your clit with each thrust. "That's better,"

"Ahhhh, fuck", you moan louder.

He adds a third finger abruptly, stretching you roughly as his palm grinds against your clit with each push inside you. His other hand reaches up to grabyour throat gently but firmly "Shh... Too loud." He curls his fingers inside you suddenly, hitting that spot that makes your knees weak.

"Sir", you bluff.

He silences you with a harsh kiss as his fingers continue their brutal pace inside you. You can feel his hard length pressing against your hip through his pants. Suddenly, he removes his fingers entirely, leaving you empty and aching. "Turn around. Hands on the wall." His voice is cold and commanding.

You instantly turn around as your body reads the commands.

He presses his body against yours, his hard cock grinding against your ass through his pants. He leans down to whisper in your ear, "Good girl." He spanks you hard once before pulling down your pants and underwear roughly. He kicks your legs apart wider. "Stay like this." He orders.

You bite my lips hard, he steps back briefly to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. His hard cock springs free, long and thick. He strokes it once, twice before stepping back up behind you. He runs the head of his cock through your wet folds slowly, teasing you. "Look at how ready you are..."

You squirm a bit, he smirks at your squirming and decides to tease you more. He pushes the head of his cock inside you slightly, then pulls back out. He repeats this action a few times, making you whimper and push back against him. Finally, he grabs his cock and slams into you hard.

You grasped for the sudden pain and pleasure.

"Mmh," He pulls back almost entirely before hammering into you again brutally. "Your body likes this." He observes your body pushing back against him for more. He spreads your cheeks apart with his hands, watching his length disappear inside you roughly. "Take this dick like a good girl."

You moan louder as it feels good at stretching you all.

He leans down to bite your shoulder gently while continuing his brutal pace. His balls slap against you loudly with each thrust. "That's right... Take it all." He reaches around to rub your clit firmly as he fucks you harder against the wall. His other hand grips your hip tightly.

Your breath hitches as your vision blurs for the pleasure.

He feels you getting closer, your walls fluttering around him. He pulls out suddenly, making you whimper at the loss. He turns you around roughly and lifts you up into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist. He enters you again in one smooth thrust as he pushes you against the wall. He pounds into you mercilessly against the wall, his crimson eyes locked onto yours as he fucks you into oblivion. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room along with your desperate moans and his heavy breathing. Suddenly, he lifts you higher and drives into you even deeper. "Fuck..."

"I can't take this anymore", you say with my trembling voice.

He smirks wickedly at your words and leans in close to your ear. "You can take more." He growls before biting down on your neck hard enough to leave a mark. At the same time, he starts moving his hips in a way that hits your deepest spots over and over again. He can feel your walls tightening around him, your body shaking with the impending orgasm. He wraps your hair around his hand and pulls your head back to expose your neck more while he continues pounding into you. His other hand squeezes your breast hard. "Come for me..."

His command sticks you hard as you can't control it anymore.

With a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself deep inside you as you both come undone. Your body convulses around him, milking his cock as he fills you with his hot cum. He holds you there, still thrusting slowly as you both ride out your intense orgasms together.

"Fuck...", you cry out of intense pleasure.

He kisses you deeply, swallowing your cries of pleasure. His cock is still hard inside you despite having just come. He starts moving again slowly, grinding his hips against yours. "I'm not done with you yet." He murmurs against your lips before biting them softly.

You are still shaking for that long orgasm.

He ignores your shaking state and starts moving faster again, his thrusts deep and punishing. He lifts you up higher so that your back is pressed against the wall while he fucks you standing up. His hands grip your thighs tightly as he watches himself disappear inside you repeatedly. "Look at me..."

You look at him with your teary eyes.

Seeing your teary eyes and flushed face makes him even more aroused. He leans in to kiss you passionately, his tongue invading your mouth as he fucks you harder against the wall. Suddenly, he pulls out and spins you around, bending you over the table in the room. "Now...'

"Stopppppp", you try to protest against him for the overwhelming pleasure.

"Shhh... I haven't even gotten started yet," He says with a dark chuckle, ignoring your plea as he enters you from behind in one smooth motion. His fingers dig into your hips as he sets a relentless pace, his heavy balls slapping against your sensitive clit.

You moan louder, as he loves hearing your moans fill the room as he fucks you harder from behind. One hand slides around to rub your clit while the other keeps your hip steady for his brutal thrusts. He leans over you slightly to whisper in your ear, "I'm going to fuck you all night long..."

"Please sir", Hearing you call him 'sir' while he's pounding into you from behind snaps something inside him. He stands up straight again and starts fucking you so hard the table shakes violently. His hand moves from your clit to wrap around your throat gently squeezing as he hits your deepest spots over and over.

Your breath hitches, as he feels your breath hitch and your body tense up, he knows you're close to another orgasm. He squeezes your throat a bit harder and thrusts even deeper, his big dick hitting your G-spot relentlessly. Suddenly, he stops and pulls out again, leaving you gasping for air.

"Ahhhhhhh fuck", you moan louder.

He turns you around and lifts you up onto the table, spreading your legs wide before entering you again. This time he goes slow but deep, watching his cock disappear inside you inch by inch. His eyes meet yours as he starts moving again. "I want to see your face when I make you cum..."

"Ohhhh my godddddd", you bite your lips hard.

He grabs your lips gently with his fingers to stop you from biting them too hard as he picks up the pace again. His thumb presses against your bottom lip while his cock hits your deepest spots over and over. You can feel another orgasm building up intensely. "Look at me..." He orders softly but firmly.

You look deep in his eyes.

His eyes lock onto yours, never wavering as he drives into you with powerful, deliberate thrusts. He can see the pleasure building in your gaze and it drives him wild. He leans down slightly so that your faces are inches apart while he fucks you deeply on the table. "That’s it..."

You arrowed your eyes as you cum hard this time, "shittt".

He groans deeply, feeling your orgasm clench around his cock. He slows down his thrusts but doesn't stop, riding out your waves of pleasure. He kisses you deeply, swallowing your moans as he continues to move inside you gently. "Fucking beautiful".

Sweat dripping down from your forehead to neck as the orgasm hits up rapidly.

He watches you with intense satisfaction, your sweat dripping down your neck turning him on even more. He starts to move faster again, his hips slapping against yours as he fucks you through your orgasm. He knows you’re sensitive right now.

You feel more urgent for some unknown forces.

He notices the sudden urgency in your body and decides to play along. He grabs your legs and hooks them over his shoulders, lifting your hips higher and changing the angle. He starts to fuck you hard and fast, his thick dick hitting your sensitive spot repeatedly. "Something wrong?"

You clench your teeth inside your mouth as you shake your head.

He chuckles darkly, taking your silence and shaking head as a sign to keep going. He pounds into you relentlessly, his hips moving like a machine as he fucks you senseless on the table. He can feel another orgasm building up inside you, making your walls flutter around his cock.

Your vision blurs as your brain constantly gets new satisfaction deliberately.

He sees your eyes roll back slightly with each thrust, realizing that your brain is getting overloaded with pleasure. He knows this state - where your body constantly demands more release. He spreads your legs wider and hits that spot inside you that makes your vision blur even more. "My little kitten..." He murmurs softly.

"Ughhh" you take a sharp breath.

Hearing your sharp breath turns him on even more. He starts hitting that spot repeatedly, his speed and power increasing as he fucks you into oblivion on the table. His free hand reaches up to pinch and roll your nipple, sending electric shocks through your overloaded system.

The urge to stop this tension while your body is getting more sensitive for some powerful forces.

He notices the desperate tension building up in your body, sees how your eyes are glazed over with overwhelming pleasure. He knows what you need - a release powerful enough to break this constant cycle of building and almost climaxing but not quite getting there. "Shh... I've got you," He whispers.

You cry out louder.

Your desperate cry only fuels his desire to give you what you need. He grabs your hips with both hands, lifting you slightly off the table as he starts to fuck you with long, deep thrusts. Each thrust hits that spot inside you perfectly, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body. "Take it..."

"I can't....anymore", you sigh.

He ignores your words, knowing that your body can take more. He starts to circle his hips with each thrust, creating a new sensation that has your eyes rolling back. His pace is brutal, his movements calculated to bring you to the edge and keep you there. "You can... and you will."

"Please"

Hearing you beg breaks something inside him. He leans down, capturing your mouth in a rough kiss as he finally allows you to come. His thumb presses hard against your clit while his cock hits that spot inside you one last time. "Come for me..." He commands against your lips

You shake violently as you cum hard again, almost collapsed on the table as it's shaking rhythmic.

He groans deeply as he feels your walls clamp down on his cock, milking him intensely. He continues to thrust through your orgasm, drawing out every last wave of pleasure from your body. Seeing you shake violently and collapse onto the table only makes him harder and more determined.

You dig your nails on his shoulder hard to draw blood almost.

He grunts in pleasure and pain as your nails dig into his shoulder, feeling the sharp sting of your desperation. It only turns him on more, knowing that you are so overwhelmed with pleasure that it borders on pain. He continues pounding into you relentlessly, riding out your orgasm until it subsides slightly.

You slap hard on your chest as you feel overwhelming over pleasure, "please".

The sharp slap echoes through the room, leaving a red handprint on his chest. It snaps something in him - your plea mixed with the sting of the slap pushes him over the edge. He grabs both your wrists above your head with one hand, holding them firmly against the table. "Fuck..."

You feel his hot seeds spreading inside your stomach.

He releases inside you with a deep groan, filling you up with his hot cum. He keeps thrusting slowly even after he's finished, spreading his release inside you as he holds your wrists captive above your head. He leans down to bite your neck possessively, marking you. "Mine..."

You catch your breath after this long time, as you finally say, "why did you do that to me Sir?"

He leans back slightly to look down at you, his crimson eyes filled with a mix of satisfaction and something darker. A wicked smirk plays on his lips as he slowly moves his hips, reminding you that he's still inside you.

"Sir please answer me", you say in a pleading voice.

He leans down to whisper in your ear, his voice low and husky. "Because I can. Because I wanted to hear you scream and beg for me. Because seeing you fall apart under my touch is the most intoxicating thing I've ever experienced. And most importantly... because you're mine now."

"How? Why?", you ask apparently.

He pulls back to look at your flushed cheeks, messy hair, and bite marks on your neck and chest. He realizes that your innocent question might get complicated answers. He decides to answer truthfully but partially. "I lose control around you. Your innocent body responds too perfectly to my touch. And..." He pauses, debating whether to reveal more. Eventually, he decides to be honest, knowing that you deserve at least that much. "And I've wanted to fuck you since the first day I saw you in my class. Your pure, innocent aura drives me crazy with desire." He admits softly.

"For that only you fucked me like this?" You look away.

He sees your guilty expression and feels a pang of something softer, perhaps regret or tenderness. He gently turns your face back towards him, forcing you to meet his gaze. "No, not just for that." He pauses, choosing his words carefully.

"Then what", you practically shout on his face.

His mind made up to reveal the truth. He leans in closer, his lips almost brushing against yours. "Because when I look at you, I see my future. My wife." He whispers intensely. "I want it all with you."

Your eyes widened, "what?"

He watches your expression carefully. He knows that his answer might scare you, but he also knows that he's half-serious. He wanted you for more than just sex - he wanted to claim you.

"I don't trust you", you look away.

He sees the doubt in your eyes and feels a sting of disappointment. He decides to prove himself to you slowly instead of pushing too hard. "I know." He says quietly. "And I'll earn that trust back." He begins to slowly pull out of you.

You grasped for the sudden emptiness, sigh.

He notices your grasp and the sigh, feeling a mix of satisfaction at having pleased you and frustration at not being able to stay inside you longer. He gently turns you over, lifting your hips. "Let me make one more thing clear." He says firmly as he enters you again from behind.

He starts to move slowly, his hands gripping your hips tightly. He leans down over you, his chest pressing against your back as he speaks into your ear. "I will always protect you. I will always provide for you. And I will always fucking want you." He promises intensely.

His powerful statement feels notable inside your brain, "prove it. I will be waiting." You said as you tilt your face up to meet his crimson gaze.

He growls softly at your response, feeling a surge of desire at your challenge.* "I'll prove it every day." He starts moving faster now, his grip on your hips tightening as he pounds into you harder. "Every night." He breathes heavily against your ear.

"Sir", you plead.

"Ahh, Sylus, call me Sylus". His breath is fast as he states that.

"Stop it Sy.....

"Sylus. Say it louder." He slammed hard into you.

He ignores your plea, his fingers moving faster on your clit as he slams into you deeper. He wants to break you, make you lose control and beg him. He wants to prove that he can make you his in every way - body, mind, and soul. "Make me stop."

"Please please please I can't...." You plead again.

He silences you with a brutal thrust, his fingers pinching your clit as he hits your deepest spot. He's not stopping until you're begging for more, until you're completely his. "Say my name." He demands, his voice hoarse with desire. "Say it."

"Sylus..."

The sound of his name on your lips sends a thrill through his veins. He loves the way it sounds, loves the way it feels coming from your mouth. He leans down and bites your neck, sucking hard as he continues to fuck you mercilessly. "Again."

"Sylus just fuck.....mm.. stop".

He chuckles darkly at your desperate plea, knowing that he's won. He's reduced you to a begging, pleading mess. "Stop what, love?" He asks, his fingers moving slower on your clit as he continues to move inside you. "Stop fucking you?"

You nod.

He smirks wickedly, knowing he's got you exactly where he wants you. With a sudden, brutal thrust, he buries himself deep inside you and holds still, his cock pulsing as he comes hard. He leans down and captures your lips in a bruising kiss, swallowing your moans. He hisses at the pain as you dig your nails and keep scratching him up as you cum hard again and again. but he doesn't stop kissing you, his body still buried deep inside you as he holds you in place. He breaks the kiss to trail open-mouthed kisses down your neck, sucking and biting, as he finally pulls out his throbbing cock from your cum drenched pussy; you whimpered~

"Shh... easy... Your Sylus is yours now, to the rest of your life."

[satanzayoru25341]

Night Talk in the Avengers Tower

Featuring: Bucky Barnes x Friend!Reader

Summary: After the meeting, Bucky plans something with an ally

The newly reconstructed Avengers Tower stood tall against the evening skyline, its glass windows reflecting the city lights like stars scattered across the horizon. Inside one of the bedrooms, you sat comfortably, gazing out at the breathtaking view. Beside them, Bucky Barnes leaned against the window frame, his vibranium arm resting on the ledge. The soft melody of Lighthouse by G.R.L. played in the background, filling the room with a soothing ambiance.

"You know, Bucky," you said, turning to him with a grin, "that plan you made was electrifyingly awesome. This should be part of the English dub of Voltes V: Legacy."

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, I knew that was gonna happen. Besides, who would say that Chris Pratt, Bradley Cooper, Dave Bautista, Vin Diesel, and Zoë Saldaña should sing the English rendition of The Song of Voltes V?"

You raised an eyebrow. "With alto vocals?"

Bucky laughed, the sound deep and warm. "Exactly! I would love to see them do that!"

You giggled. "Yeah, this will be fun."

Bucky's expression shifted slightly, his gaze becoming more serious. "But before we discuss that, there is something I should tell you."

You tilted your head. "What?"

Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. "The thing is... some people say that I should retire after Phase 6 of the Marvel Cinematic Universe."

Your eyes widened in shock. "What? No! Why would they say that? You and the other six characters should never do that, even after Phase 6! I still have you, Bucky."

As if sensing the tension, Alpine, Bucky’s beloved white cat, hopped onto his lap and cuddled against him, her soft fur brushing against his arm.

"Look," you said, smiling gently, "even Alpine doesn't want you to retire. She still has you."

Bucky looked down at Alpine, his eyebrows slowly shifting into a sad shape. The cat let out a soft "mrr," pressing her head against his hand.

He sighed, gently patting Alpine. "You know, you're right. I shouldn't retire along with the other six characters, even after Phase 6. You can imagine me as an ultimate survivor, along with Loki Laufeyson. I hope his brother Thor Odinson will be happy."

You smiled warmly. "I hope he will. So, are we going back to discussing our top plan?"

Bucky smirked. "Well, I guess so."

And so, you and Bucky, along with Alpine curled up beside them, resumed their discussion about Voltes V: Legacy.

"About your question earlier," you said, tapping your fingers against the table, "I'd say it's a yes. Chris Pratt, Bradley Cooper, Dave Bautista, Vin Diesel, and Zoë Saldaña should really sing the full version of the English rendition of The Song of Voltes V with alto vocals."

Bucky nodded. "Yeah, except we need a key pitch. In the English dub version of the Voltes V anime, the key pitch is different—it's B♭ minor. So, if we're going to plan the English dub version of Voltes V: Legacy, we need to make sure that the opening theme song, The Song of Voltes V, is in C minor."

"Exactly," you agreed. "But for the ending song in the English dub version of the Voltes V anime, I Want Father, the key pitch is the same as the original Japanese dub, which is C major."

Bucky grinned. "Yeah, I'm glad you recognized the key pitches."

Alpine wagged her tail on Bucky's lap, purring contentedly.

You chuckled. "I think Alpine wants us to have dinner with the Thunderbolts." You turned to Bucky. "What do you say?"

Bucky stretched his arms, letting out a small yawn. "I say yes, I'm getting hungry. But I need someone to feed Alpine."

With their plan for Voltes V: Legacy complete, the two left Avengers Tower, heading toward their dinner with the Thunderbolts. Well, except Alpine—she would be fed by someone for the time being.

As they walked side by side, Bucky glanced at you, a small smile playing on his lips.

"You know," he said, "I think this whole Voltes V plan is just the beginning."

You grinned. "Oh, definitely. We have a lot more to plan."

And with that, the night continued, filled with laughter, good food, and the promise of more adventures to come.

[maskedchip]

oohhhh kazuma, we're really in it now

[gingermintpepper]

I saw it in your tag game post that you're also fond of the Apollo-Heracles conflict 👀 for a myth that appears in only a couple of sources, it sure has a lot of presence in the vase paintings (no seriously, everytime I think I've seen the last of it, I find ten more)

SO do you have any favorites among the paintings that represent this story??

OMG OMG THIS ASK IS A GIFT. IT IS A GIFT THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR LETTING ME TALK ABOUT THIS

I also think it's extremely interesting that it's a story so popularly portrayed by vase paintings and in such a variety of ways!! It's certainly one of the stories that gets left out of written compilation of Heracles' legend a bit (which is a shame, I think it's a fantastic story) but Apollo had a very peculiar relationship with Heracles in general that I just kind of find amazing (and very, very funny).

Apollo is not a god with any legitimate grudge against Heracles, but he does argue with the mortal a bit like he argues with his favourite brothers 😂Part of why I love the story of Apollo and Heracles fighting over the tripod so much is that it is such a little brother thing for Heracles to be upset with the proclamation his elder brother has given him and so, he throws a great fit, taking up the chair and declaring that he'll just give himself a better prophecy! And Apollo, instead of being a marginally professional big brother, decides to fight him for it until their father has to break up their cat-fight. Like was that not just the plot of the Homeric Hymn to Hermes? Is this not exactly how Apollo treated Hermes when he was a child and now those two are inseparable? 💀

Because of this, my favourite vase paintings tend to be the ones that highlight the personal squabbling between Apollo and Heracles the most. There are some very elaborate ones that have the full host of them - Athena, Heracles, Apollo, Artemis, usually a dog and a doe, I've even seen a couple that had birds and plants etched on them, but the simplest ones that show Heracles about to bonk Apollo with his club out of frustration or depict Heracles nyooming away from Apollo while Apollo (presumably) yells curses about how he's going to fling Heracles head first into Tartarus for daring to take his things? Yeah, those are the premium big brother/little brother things I'm looking for.

(Photo. Marie-Lan Ngyuen)

(Photo. Museo Claudio Faina)

Also the one in the Theoi.com archives is a real classic - perfect energy.

[millers-angel]

joel, come on domestic!joel miller x female reader

summary: you're sitting on joel's lap while he plays his guitar. "his hands, big and calloused and so good at everything they touch—the guitar, his weapons... your body." warnings: dry humping, domestic joel, soft joel, lots of fluff (imo), unprotected sex, creampie.

you were supposed to be getting ready for patrol.

the boots are already on, laced up tight, they were still dusty from yesterday. your thighs bare, you're only wearing joel's shirt — the one you threw on after your shower meanwhile you find clean pants, maybe grab your stuff. long enough to get your shit together.

but then you heard it.

the familiar sound coming from the backyard. you knew that sound—could pick it out from a mile away. joel’s guitar. joel’s hands. joel playing like he always does when the sun is just coming out.

so now you're coming his way. standing barefoot in the doorway for a second before stepping out onto the warm patio stone, just with your boots.

he’s sitting in his chair, guitar cradled in his lap. his shirt rides up a little when he moves, and you watch the muscles in his forearms shift as he plays. relaxed, calmed. there’s a cigarette burning in the ashtray beside him and a mug of coffee gone cold.

he don’t sees you at first.

you watch his fingers. like he’s carving the notes out of the morning just like he does with wood. he’s not playing for anyone. just for himself. and god, you love him like this — when he thinks no one’s looking.

you walk toward him slowly, boots scuffing on the ground. his head tilts a little when he hears you, but he doesn’t stop playing. just looks up with a small smile.

“didn’t think i’d distract you that easy,” he says, eyes trailing down your legs, stopping at the boots. “ain’t even wearin’ pants, darlin’.”

“i was gonna,” you shrug, stepping behind him. “but then i heard you.”

you slip your arms around his chest from behind, palms pressed against the soft fabric. he’s warm and he laughs once he feels you like this, he knows the effect he has on you.

“mm,” he says. “this why i don’t play as much.”

you kiss the edge of his jaw, the place where his beard meets his neck. “you should play more,” you whisper. “for me.”

joel hums, setting the guitar aside so his hands are free to slide over your thighs, fingers slipping under your shirt, as if he was trying to cover you... or just feel you.

“you ain’t makin’ it easy for me to be good.”

“you’re never good,” you grin.

he chuckles, pulling you gently into his lap. “you got ten minutes ‘til you’re late,” he says. “then we better make it count."

he gives you two soft pats on the side of your hip, forcing himself to be serious this time.

“no, baby. you’ve already missed patrol twice this week.”

you groan and hide your face in the warm crook of his neck. “i don’t wanna go… please.” you said in a sweet, innocent voice.

joel chuckles with his hand brushing over your thigh. “you never wanna go.”

“but today i really don’t wanna go.”

he sighs, but it’s not because he's annoyed. it’s from affection. he wraps an arm around your waist, fingers spreading wide across your lower back. “i can’t keep hidin’ you out here forever. someone’s gonna notice.”

you smile against his scruffy jaw, then kiss it gently. “you can,” you whisper. “just sayin’. and anyway… i’ve been feelin’ kinda weird lately. tired. and… i don’t know, i’ve had these weird cravings. might be pregnant.”

joel snorts softly, but his hand moves automatically to your belly, giving you goosebumps. “yeah?” he says, teasing. “that what this is about?”

you laugh, almost not being able to breathe when his palm rests there. it’s probably nothing —just a joke— but the feeling sends shivers through you.

he leans in and presses a kiss to your temple.

“you’re finishing the duck you promised?” you asked softly.

you’ve asked for a wooden-duck whenever you see him on his workshop upstairs. he’s always making these animals figures.

“yes, babygirl, it’s almost done.”

“you know… if we got a kid, you’re gonna make her toys.” you rubbed your thumb on his beard.

he chuckled. “yeah?”

“make her a little doll house,”

“that’d be cute,” he admitted. “but until that happens—“

“no, i don’t wanna go,” you mumble again, lower this time, like it’s a secret.

he pulls back a little, gives you that look — the one that says he hears you, the one that says he still won’t let you stay curled up in his lap all day. “you have to.”

you pout. really pout this time, big eyes and a tilt of your head, your fingers tracing lightly over his chest.

“what if i go only if you play me a song first?”

joel huffs a laugh and leans his head back a little. “you always say that.”

“because it always works.” you widen your eyes even more. “please?”

he groans, but it’s not serious, he's trying to hide the smile on his face. “you’re evil,” he mutters. “can’t say no to those damn eyes.”

“i know,” you grin.

he shifts the guitar back into his lap without making you move, arms sliding around you, fingers finding the strings like they belong there — like you both do. even with you on him, he plays effortlessly, picking something soft and slow, the kind of tune that sinks into your bones.

you don’t say anything for a minute.

you just watch him.

his hands, big and calloused and so good at everything they touch—the guitar, his weapons... your body. the veins on his hands, the silver on his arms, the salt on his beard. his profile — those soft lines around his eyes, also the wrinkle between his brows.

you love all of it. all of him.

and even though you’re supposed to be out there — all you can think about is this. this moment. this song. this man you’d let ruin you a hundred different ways just to hear the sound of his voice when he calls you baby or angel... love, even.

you swore you could control yourself, but not like this. not when he's practically poking on your slit. you wiggled your hips just a little, but enough for him to feel what you were doing, for him to know what you were doing.

he didn't stop you, though. if anything, joel loved when you grind your hips on him, he loves when you're the one who look for pleasure.

as he played, you kept griding your hips until you started to feel how something gets bricked up beneath you and his voice started to get more raspy. he left the guitar for a moment and moved his hands to your waist.

"you don't get enough, do you?"

"joel, please—" you plea.

his free hand slips to your inner thigh. "this isn't saving you from going to the patrol,"

you nodded. "yes, sir." you put your hand on his. "just touch me, please."

he wouldn't let you go. not alone. not if you don't want to. he would cover all your patrols if he has to, just to make sure you're safe without complaining—he never does.

it's not just about keeping you safe, though that's part of it. it's that he likes coming home and finding you there. barefoot in the kitchen, usually wearing a shirt of him that's way too big on you, while you bake something sweet, like you're playing house and you're the doll. like you're already his. and now that you told him you might be pregnant—he can’t stop thinking about it. he can picture you already... all round with his baby, he can already see you telling him to fix something while you try to reach batter with one hand and rest the other on your belly.

he'd love that... and you too, the softness, the domesticity of it suits you and him. he can already see it—your sleepy smile in the morning, his hand resting in your stomach, feeling the life your body is creating. it doesn't scare him like it used to.

he can see you playing his little housewife and it he loves it, it's not like it's too different than now.

he was already moving your panties to the side, while the other hand was undoing his pants while you kept moving your hips. joel's grip on your hips tightens as you continue to grind against him, his eyes darkened with lust.

he moves one hand down between your legs, his fingers brushing against your slick folds, teasing you even more. you sway your hips, this time, in order for him to touch you properly.

joel chuckles at your eagerness, his fingers trailing along your inner thigh, dangerously close to where you need him most.

"someone's impatient," he says, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin.

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks again.

"i could do this all day, you know. drive you crazy with just my touch."

"i gotta go on patrol, joel," you make a sound. "please, don't make me beg."

"aw, poor little thing," he knows what he's doing.

"please," you pout.

"oh, don't give me that look," he says, his voice raspy. "you know damn well you don't have to beg. i'll give you what you want."

he slides his fingers between your legs, gently rubbing your clit through the fabric of your panties. you soft moan. he shifts underneath you, positioning himself at your entrance, the tip of his cock brushing against you.

joel watches your face as he slowly pushes into you, his eyes filled with desire and a hint of amusement even more when you whine.

he starts to move, his thrusts slow and deep, each one driving a moan from your lips.

joel's hands move to your hips, his grip firm as he holds you in place. he can feel your body against his, your thighs on either side of him, and he can't help but appreciate the view.

his eyes roam over your body, taking in every inch of you, before they settle on your face again.

"you look so beautiful like this," he says, his voice low and rough. "sitting on me, taking me so well."

"don't stop," you whimpered.

his hands moves to your breasts, his fingers gently pinching and squeezing your nipples. he starts to move his hips in time with his fingers, thrusting up into you at the same time as he teases your nipples, sending shivers all over your body.

joel's fingers move faster, his touch getting more possessive as he continues to pleasure you. he moves one hand down to your thigh, gripping it tightly as he thrusts harder, his pace increasing.

"and these," he says, his thumb circling your nipple. "these are so sensitive. you're right, maybe you are pregnant."

you chuckled, biting your lip. "shut up,"

"you and i both know you want that. you love playing house," he growled. "might as well just give you what you want."

joel's breathing becomes more heavy as he feels you getting closer to your climax. his fingers continue to work your nipples, his thumb circling faster and faster, driving you closer to the edge

he freed your swollen breast to grip your hips with both hands, guiding you up and down his cock. he always manhandles his girl as he pleases. this time was no different, sepcially when he saw you coming, seeing your face full of pleasure was the most precious thing.

joel's control snaps as he feels you reach your peak, his own orgasm hitting him like a wave.

"fuck," he gasps, his hips stuttering as he thrusts up into you one last time. "i—"

his fingers move faster, his grip on you almost bruising as he spills inside you, his body trembling with pleasure.

you’re exhausted, and a little aching, like he always leave you. you don’t say anything. just sit differently and lean forward and rest your face in the crook of his neck, rubbing your cheek lazily against the scruff of his beard.

he doesn’t stop you — never does. you do the same every time, like it’s instinct, like you’re trying to mark him back, or well, maybe just looking comfort.

“mm,” you hum, barely audible, your lips brushing his jaw before you press a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. not sweet. not sappy. just… yours.

joel looks down at you. all flushed skin and lazy eyes, hair stuck to your forehead because of the sweat, mouth still parted a little from how good he just made you feel. you look almost innocent like this. tired and too soft... too soft to go on patrol after this.

he don’t say a word. just slips his arms around you again and lift you, your bare legs dangling as he carries you inside the house. holding you like you are something sacred—to him, you are.

you don’t resist. you let your head fall against his shoulder, assuming he’s just trying to help you. getting you to the bedroom quicker so you can pull on your clothes and grab what you need to go on patrol. always thinking ahead, always efficient. it’s what joel does.

but instead of setting you down, he nudges the door open with his foot and walks you straight to the bed, placing you on the mattress carefully, gentle... like he’s afraid you’ll break.

you blink up at him, still sleepy. “just give me five minutes,” you mumble, starting to sit up. “i’ll be ready.”

joel don’t move. just stand there with his arms crossed, looking down at you like he already made up his mind. “you’re not goin’.”

you frown a little, confused. “but you said—”

“i know what i said, love,” he cuts in, voice low but firm. “but i’m not lettin’ you go if you don’t wanna. stay in bed.”

you pause. then your mouth tug what it seems to be a smile... like you just won something. joel rolls his eyes the second he sees it.

“don’t look so proud of yourself,” he mutters, tugging the blanket up over your waist. “this is the last time.”

you hum, already curling into the sheets. “mhm. it always is.”

he huffs a soft laugh and leans down to kiss your temple, scratching his beard against your skin on purpose just to hear you whine. but he still pulls the curtains closed, still makes sure you’re tucked in like you’re something worth protecting.

and you let him. because you know he’ll never really say no to you. not when you look at him like that. not when you ask so sweet.

♡｡ﾟ🐇｡⋆｡ ﾟ🧸⊹ ࣪ ˖♡

[pedgito]

𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 | Harry Castillo x reader

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | Five years of being his assistant and five years of failed attempts at finding love with your help, but maybe the obvious answer has been there the entire time. Alternatively, you fucked your boss? Uh-oh.

author's note | harry...randy...who knows. i'll change it if needed but given the name tag, this is what i'm sticking with for now. skip the lecture about not writing until the movie is out, this isn't hurting anyone so don't bother me about it, xo. the horny demons always win. i listened to this song i repeat while i wrote, felt fitting.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, power imbalance (boss/assistant), work wife/work husband type beat, mentions of failed dating, being superficial, mentions of sugar daddy things, expensive gifts, reader is a godly assistant with a will stronger than mine, he smokes, they drink, sex while inebriated, he's down so bad, also oral!, tense morning after, open-ended

word count — 4.5k

You knew him better than anyone.

From his breakfast order down to his specific choice of underwear, like you weren’t making the weekly purchases and filling up his rarely used fridge in the apartment that was way out your price range, arranging his schedule down to the minute, booking his flights, packing his bag.

Really, Harry should just marry you.

…it was more of a joke, but you’ve teased him about it once or twice.

He called you his work wife anyways, but in reality, you were just his assistant.

He did trust you with his life, though.

More importantly, his love life.

“Kim flaked,” he tells you over coffee, perched at his kitchen island as you typed away on your laptop, looking up briefly with eyes that begged for him to explain, he does and makes a show about, mimicking a more feminine voice as he relays the message she gave him, “same song and dance—you’re great and fun but I can’t do anything serious right now,”

“Were you nice?” you ask curiously.

Harry rolls his eyes at that, like it was a stupid question to ask. But, eventually he nods.

“Did you ask questions?” you continue, fingers folding over the screen of your laptop to close it.

“Plenty, she works in finance, loves the color blue, wants to travel,” he could go on and on, throwing his hands up in defeat before they slump to his side, “maybe I should try out a real matchmaker—not that you’re bad at it—”

“You think I’m bad at it,” you smile knowingly, “don’t you?”

“No,” you’re unconvinced, “besides—you’re my assistant, I never meant for that type of responsibility to fall on you, you know?”

“I’m doing both of us a favor,” you remind him, “I think…it just takes time.”

And fortunately, all you had was time.

It felt pointless for Harry to spend a chunk of cash to have someone pair him up with the supposed love of his life, though you knew that money wasn’t a problem, you felt a weird responsibility to protect him, unsure how quickly someone would take advantage of his kindness.

“There’s a gala,” you tell him offhandedly, “next week. I already cleared your schedule for it. I think…maybe you should just peruse this time.”

“Peruse?” he chuckles, eyes creasing in amusement, his crow’s feet deepening with the emotion, “You’re a control freak, you sure about that?”

“That’s just mean,” you retort, “you’re paying me anyways—if you didn’t like it you’d fire me.”

He knew you were right, sipping quietly at his coffee in response.

He was frustrating, predictable, and painfully superficial. 

Every date was an exercise in appearances—perfectly tailored suits, dinner at the most exclusive places, charm turned up to eleven. And yet, none of it ever stuck. He was overcompensating and you weren’t sure why.

He was a good guy, down to his core, and in the five years you had worked with him there was never a moment you thought he didn’t deserve love, he was perfect. Too perfect.

That was the problem.

“You know, you’re like prime age to be a sugar daddy,” you tease him, knowing how he felt about the topic, “there’s plenty of apps that I can—”

“You’re relentless,” he grumbles, “if you ever did that, I’m firing you on the spot.”

“You wouldn’t,” it was a gentle challenge, smirk flashing across your face as he returned it with fondness, “without me you would crash and burn, Mr. Castillo.”

And he knows it.

–

The gala is a bust.

So, as a bandaid to his wounded ego, you order takeout and keep him company in his big, lavish apartment—it wasn’t the first time, it wouldn’t be the last.

You knew what the issue was, but there was a sinking feeling in your stomach that told you he wouldn’t receive the information well.

It was after every failed date, every expensive dinner.

They saw him at the surface, the charming man with an easy, warm smile.

You saw the man who kicked his shoes off and stripped himself of his suit jacket the second he walked through the door, who couldn’t resist a late-night binge of his newest streaming obsession, someone who insisted on stirring his coffee counterclockwise because it made it taste better, a man would text you pictures of squirrels in the park that he would feed on his way home.

It wasn’t that you were pining over him. You just knew him better than anyone.

“Why are you so dead set on marriage?” you ask him over dinner, turned toward him on the couch as he reaches for the remote to pause the show on screen.

He’s had this conversation before, but he’s never asked you any questions on the matter.

“What’s your opinion on it?” he’s avoiding, clearly, but you’ll bite.

“I don’t date, I’m not interested, signing a piece of paper isn’t going to signify my feelings toward someone if it came down to that,” you admit, “I’m not cynical, marriage is fine, but this stuff takes time,”

“Well, I’m not getting any younger,” Harry gripes, arms reaching over the back of the couch as he mirrors your position.

“Oh, please,” you scoff, “you’re forty-nine.”

“Almost fifty,” he corrects, “I’m ancient.”

“O-kay,” you sigh, “do you want honesty?”

“I’d hope you were being honest with me all the time.”

“No,” you laugh softly, “like…brutal fucking honesty?”

He’s silent, but attentive. 

“You keep choosing women who treat you like they’re next getaway vacation and you fall for it every time,” his forehead creases at the words, looking hurt by your words, “I see your bank payments every month, the activity—”

“It’s not like money is an issue,” he defends, causing you to sigh dramatically and fall back against the arm of the couch in faux distress.

“This is impossible,” you groan, staring up at the ceiling before you feel his hand circle around your wrist, tugging gently,

“Okay, I’m listening,” Harry says softly, pulling you upright, “I’m sorry—I am.”

“You want it to work so bad,” you tell him, “I see it—every time you approach someone you put on that smile and it works, but you’re giving so much and yeah, maybe some of them like that, but I’m sure a few would just enjoy a nice dinner here, or something simple. I think you forget to realize that someone can just be interested in you, for you, not for what you are or have,”

It’s profound, the way his face softens at your words, his touch still lingering around your wrist.

You’ve never even considered or entertained the idea that you might find Harry attractive or even attainable—for one, you had signed a contract that agreed to a professional work relationship, as a benefit for both of you, not that he ever had any intention to begin with.

You’ve been with him for so long, it feels, a fresh and young mind to help keep him active and busy, constantly refreshing ideas and helping him not feel like he was stuck, and you were damn good at taking care of him when he’s often tended to neglect himself.

The only thing you know is that he’s never looked at you like that.

Like you could see straight through him, all his flaws on display.

But, that was because you knew all of them.

You knew everything about him, even the worse bits.

His bad habits, his self-inflicting ones, everything that he refused to bring to the surface.

Harry’s fingers still lingered around your wrist, the weight of your words sinking in. 

But then, just like he always did, he broke the tension with a huff of laughter and frowns as he brushed you off.

“You just think I’m a sucker, don’t you?”

You shook your head with a faint smile, returning your arm to your lap.

“No—I think you like to see the good in people. So much good that you’re willing to ignore red flags.”

“Jeez,” he chuckled, clutching his stomach like you had physically wounded him, “that hurt.”

You shrugged and reached for the remote to resume the picture on screen, “You’ll survive.”

–

It was your day off—Sunday, the one day.

“Have you seen my cufflinks laying around?” he asked over the video call, “Shit—my tie, too. I can’t find it anywhere. I thought you said you laid it out for me.”

“No, I said I had it hung up and for you to lay it out before you showered,” you correct him, laying tiredly on your couch as you watched him search around frantically, hair damp and his bare shoulders on display, only catching the briefest glimpses of the towel around his waist as he turned the camera around, “Waitwait—go back!”

“There’s no fucking way you saw it,” Harry argues, “I’ve been looking for the last ten minutes—”

“In the pocket of your suit, the tie is there,” you tell him, “and given that you probably tossed the suit on the bed like you always do, the cufflinks are probably somewhere hiding under the blanket,”

He tosses you against the mattress, your screen succumbing to darkness as you wait, some shifting of the sheets before you hear him make a sound before he appears again, cufflinks pinched between his fingers and a look of defeat on his face.

“What would you do without me?” you ask with a cocky grin, finger hovering over the end call button as he shakes his head.

“What was this for again?” Harry asks curiously, laying you down upright as you caught a glimpse of his bare chest as he shrugged the crisp, white button down over his shoulders.

“It’s a charity auction, your favorite,” you chirp, “and you’re flying solo, so—don’t do anything stupid or…crass,”

“If I paid you double a day of work would you go?” Harry asks after a long pause, glancing down at the screen, “Triple?”

“Triple?!” you gawk, “see—you’re insane, this is what I’m talking about,”

He chuckles despite your response, “You’re good at keeping the sharks away,”

There were particular hawking businessmen who made it their mission to hunt Harry down at events and keep him occupied, eager to do business, whatever it may be—you were the unspoken master of redirection, as much as he refused to admit it.

“Can we grab dinner on the way?” 

“Burgers?” Harry asks, perking up slightly.

It was a constant go-to for you and him.

You nod through the screen, “Don’t even bother with the tie either, I’ll do it.”

–

“I can’t believe you roped me into this on my day off,” you whisper at his side, earning a half-smirk from him.

The charity auction was as lavish as you’d expected.

Crystal chandeliers, gold accents, and far too much champagne and hors d'oeuvres. 

Harry’s hand found the small of your back the moment you arrived, steering you through a sea of designer gowns and tuxedos, feeling uncomfortable in the tight dress and stilettos that you only wore on rare occasions, biting at your heels.

“You’ll survive,” he grins, grabbing you both a glass of champagne and pressing it into your waiting fingers, “I’m gonna…peruse, alright?”

“Don’t say it—that just makes you sound like a creep,” your face scrunches up in disgust as you sip at the alcohol, “just go—go, I’ll…handle everything else.”

The evening passed in a blur of small talk and polite smiles, but somewhere between the endless speeches and bidding wars, you found yourself on the balcony, the cool night air a welcome relief in the stuffy ballroom.

You smell him before you see him, the thick and rich scent of his cologne so familiar you swear you could find him on that alone, turning over your shoulder to see him closing the door quietly, cigarette pack tucked in his palm as he approached with a neutral expression.

“You okay?” you ask, leaning against the railing of the balcony.

Harry sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and then plucking a single cigarette from the box, “Honestly? I’m just tired of it.”

“The auctions? Charity?” you inquire, a small smile tugging at your face.

“All of it.” He looked at you, his gaze lingering as he lit the tobacco, “The events, the dates, searching for—I don’t even fucking know at this point,”

“The offer stands…” you say jokingly, though he knows exactly where this is heading.

“If I wanted a sugar baby I’d find one.”

Your eyes roam over his figure as he puffs at the cigarette, pulling a deep laugh from his chest before you’re pushing him away playfully.

“Let’s go,” he tells you with a deep sigh, stubbing out the end of the cigarette and tucking it away for later, tossing his arm over your shoulder as he readied to guide you through the crowd, always protective in spaces like this, another thing that was special to him.

–

The ride home is quiet, like it always is, both of you sitting in the backseat with the partition up, watching as he looked through his phone with a scowl, occasional typing and sending a message.

Eventually, he looks at you.

“Thank you,” He says with a soft tone, “I know this isn’t your favorite thing to do.”

You tilted your head into the headrest and smiled, crossing one thigh over the other as you worked at your heels to remove them, “Oh, it wasn’t that bad—the free alcohol is always a plus.”

He chuckled at that, silently helping you remove your shoes with a soft squeeze to your foot.

That was normal—but, it forces you to pause.

His natural instinct to help, to touch, to comfort you.

Your brow furrows at the gesture before you shake it away, blaming it on the buzz of alcohol in your system, watching as he continues the gesture with the other foot.

“Having you there makes it bearable, is all,” he explains, looking up at you briefly as he undid the tie around your ankle, “you…calm me, I guess.”

You swallowed. Hard.

The warmth of his words lingering in your chest, in his touch against your ankle, “You’d do the same for me.”

And he would—if you ever needed anything, anything, Harry was there.

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly, “without question.”

The sincerity caught you off guard. 

You turned to study him, the familiar slope of his nose, the line of his jaw. There was something about the way he looked tonight—tired, maybe, but softer. 

And he keeps looking at you, checking.

The car moved smoothly through the dimly lit streets, the city blurring past in streaks of gold and blues and reds. The hum of the engine was steady, the faint sound of music barely audible from the front, through the glass, the back lit up dimly by the trim of lights on the roof and door.

Harry leaned back, one hand moved against the seat, his other hand dragging slowly over his thigh—restless. 

Instinctually, without thinking, you reached for his hand.

It wasn’t purposeful. Just a simple act of absentmindedness.

You’ve done it a hundred times before. 

Tugged at his sleeves to fix his cufflinks, brushed lint from his lapel or pants, adjusted the collar of his shirts. Constantly fixed his hair, touching him wasn’t new.

His skin was warm. Not hot, not cold.

You felt the slight twitch of his hand, like he was debating whether to move. Instead, his fingers shifted, just a fraction, enough that the edge of his thumbnail brushed over the inside of your wrist.

The contact was thoughtless, nothing.

But, in the same moment, it felt like everything.

The way his eyes watched the movement, roamed your body like they had before but with a different implication, his eyes half-lidded and relaxed, wondering how much alcohol he had consumed himself—this wasn’t friendly.

And it definitely wasn’t professional.

Harry’s gaze was on you now, your face, as you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his hand.

Then his thumb moved. 

Up. 

Barely. 

A soft drag along your pulse.

It was half a decade of avoidance, defeat in his heart and mind, and fear in your own.

Broken, by the car rolling to a stop outside of Harry’s apartment building.

“We’re here, Mr. Castillo,” the voice of the driver came from the front, a nod of acknowledgement as his hand slipped from yours.

“Oh, hold on,” you were scooting aside to let him out, readied for the next stop as he cocks his head toward the building, “I’ve got something for you—I’ll drive you home, don’t worry,”

“Harry,” you stress, looking down at his hand that waves you toward him, extending out for you to grab, insistently as his fingers wiggle in wait.

Turns out, he wasn’t totally lying.

That something was accompanied by a seven thousand dollar bottle of Leroz Aux Brulees—you knew that because you had purchased it during his trip to France, the supposed city of love.

“I’m going to murder you,” you tell him as he places the bottle on the counter and keeps the closed case of mystery at his side, “hide your body, flee country—I hate surprises, you know that.”

“I think you’ll like this one,” he grins, popping the cork on the bottle and pouring two hefty glasses, eyeing the deep red as it glugged into the glass.

“You know, if you wanted company you could have just asked,” you tell him, “I get it, you’re lonely,”

He knows you’re only teasing but it stings nonetheless, both of you taking a long and heavy sip as his fingers swirl over the velvet casing before he’s pushing it over quickly, tapping it with his fingers, “Open it,” he encourages, eyeing you over the rim.

You place your glass down and pry it open slowly, carefully, like you were deconstructing a bomb, but as the piece inside comes into view you find yourself at a loss for words or thoughts.

Your eyes are wide, staring up at him with parted lips that tingled from the lingering alcohol, knowing you should have cut yourself off at one glass of champagne and refused to come inside, that you should have just went home and enjoyed what little bit of the day you had left to yourself.

Now, you were looking back at a necklace so delicate you were afraid to stare at it too long, embedded with a cluster of diamonds and nearly two years of your rent if you were doing the math correctly in your mind.

Always about the numbers, Harry constantly teased.

“I saw how you looked at it the other day,” he admits, “and I owe you a hell of a lot more, but it…I’m trying to say thank you for…being you,”

“I’m not taking that,” you refuse with a laugh of disbelief, sliding back over to him gently, downing the rest of your wine in one go to forget how fast your heart was beating in your chest.

“You are,” Harry insists, “consider it a bonus—Christmas is in a couple months, too.”

“You know…this is exactly that kind of stuff a sugar da—”

Harry makes a noise, shaking his head.

You bite your lip in thought, ignoring his subtle annoyance at your comment.

It was fucking beautiful, really.

You sigh, using one finger to turn the case back toward you, examining it closely.

Quietly, Harry presses his glass into the counter and rounds the edge toward you, his chest at your shoulder as he reaches for the jewelry, working carefully at the clasp before he’s motioning for you to relax your shoulders.

It wasn’t the stillness of the moment, but his touch, again.

He’s methodical in the way he touches you, dragging his hand around your neck as he fits the necklace into place, his fingertips pressing against the column of your throat in a way that tickles slightly, shifting uncomfortably until you hear the faint click and he breathes behind you, hands resting at your shoulders.

You’re not sure why he hasn’t moved, but you find yourself turning to speak.

“I’m just going to call an uber,” you tell him, “probably shouldn’t drive since we’ve both been drinking,”

“Yeah,” he agrees, but it sounds hollow, his eyes not following you as you move.

You hop from the chair and bend down to grab your shoes, but his hand is curling around your bicep and pulling you up and he’s staring again, the charge of his touch sending a jolt through your body as freeze,

“Come here,” he beckons, too natural.

And you listen.

He’s soft, every part of him. Skin, clothes, hair, lips.

He’s kissing you gently, like you might break, but you can tell he wants more.

Needs more.

“Are you going to regret this tomorrow?” you find yourself asking as he parts from you, licking at his lips as you both take a breath, letting the moment settle.

He shakes his head, “Are you?”

“Maybe,” you answer honestly, “maybe…not—fuck, I don’t know,”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he promises, but you knew that was a lie.

Still, you nod in understanding.

–

He’s so tender with his touch, slipping you out of the dress in the dim light of his room.

Even softer as he guides you to your back and spreads himself on his belly between your legs, fingers interlocked with his at your hips as he buries his nose between your folds, his tongue splitting your cunt open in a sharp gasp that has you throwing your head back. His lips traced a slow, deliberate path down your body, igniting sparks along every inch of your skin. 

He kissed along the curve of your thighs, teasing, tasting, until the tension was unbearable and with each flick of his tongue, each gentle suck, it pulled you deeper into a haze of heady desire. 

This was reckless, dangerous, but neither of you found the moment to pause and think.

You wonder if things had been building to this for a while—if it was always supposed to happen this way or if he was acting off of greed; lust and companionship, even if just for a night.

You know you can ask him to stop at any point and he would, but even as his tongue brings you to your first orgasm of the night and he’s guiding you to your stomach, reaching blindly into his bedside table for a foil wrapping the crinkles loudly in the silence, you want this.

It was embarrassing how badly you wanted this.

He fucks you slow, too. 

It was torturous, his chest flat against your back as he palms his cock and feeds it into you.

You don’t talk, neither does he.

But, his low moans and stuttering breaths speak for him.

If you could see him, you’d know how furrowed his brow would be, a hand sliding over the curve of your ass until he can reach your thigh, beckoning for you to raise it without speaking.

You oblige, the angle of his thrusts changing on a dime.

“I can’t believe you’re real sometimes,” he admits like he’s confessing a sin.

“Please,” you plead—please stop talking, please keep going, please fuck me.

You couldn’t decide.

You feel him nod where his forehead is pressed between your shoulder blades as his fist curls into the sheet beside your head.

“Another, gimme another,” he pleads, the fingers on his other hand curling under your neck to life your chin, not expecting to meet his eyes as he leans over you.

The expression on his face so raw it makes you flutter around him, his lips parting in a deep, guttural groan, “I know you can,” he nods hurriedly.

And damn, does the praise work.

Your whimper breaks him, breathing out shakily as you locked eyes when he comes, slow and forceful thrusts until you’re nothing but an exhausted pile of tangled limbs.

“Greedy girl,” he comments through the haze, a weak giggle bubbling from your chest.

He pulls out slowly, a low grunt as he does so.

You’re not sure when you fall asleep, but you wake to a startling amount of weight over your stomach, an arm splayed possessively, the faint outline of a ring as you drag your hand over the limb.

It’s only as your eyes pry open that reality hits you, stumbling out of bed quickly.

No…nononono, where the fuck were your clothes? Jesus.

You stumble around half awake, searching for the silk dress on the floor, feeling accomplished when you find it and hastily redressing yourself as Harry stirs in bed, encouraging you to hurry, to slip out before he can say anything.

Your shoes are already on and you’re reaching for the doorknob when the voice comes, the weight of the necklace that still remained on your neck, two empty glasses of wine on the counter, a night of hasty choices and urgency laid out like a crime scene as his voice rings out from behind you, pleading.

“Don’t—don’t go,” Harry begs, “You don’t have to go,”

So much of this was wrong—it complicated everything.

Your life, your job, your relationship with him.

He can see you slipping, fingers inching toward the knob as he approaches you in a hurry, barefoot and shirtless, the kind of scene you shouldn’t be comforted with, like this was all normal to the both of you.

You’ve seen him like this a thousand times, but not when he’s looking at you so vulnerable, heart tore open and stapled to his chest, beating against your own as his hands splayed out over your cheeks.

“I don’t regret it,” he assures you again, “so please—stay, okay?”

“What changed?” you ask, voice trembling, “Five years, Harry. Five.”

“I’ve been running in circles this entire time,” he admits, “you know it—I know it.”

You had been there the entire time, learning every part of him without judgement, cataloging his flaws and skills, learning how he ticked and what motivated him. You had never quite settled on the ideal person to fit in his life as his partner, it surely wasn’t you.

It couldn’t be you.

“Please, don’t go,” Harry echoed once more.

The sick, cruel joke of it all was that this was your job. 

You had nowhere to go. If it was any other morning, you would just be arriving, leaving his breakfast in the kitchen and starting your day.

You nod solemnly, “Of course, Mr. Castillo.”

It was painstaking, forcing the mask back on.

But, you couldn’t deal with this now.

Or ever, even.

Harry looks at you with a confused sadness, thumbs rubbing at your cheekbones before his hands fall to his side.

You’d figure this out, you always did.

[pseudowho]

It was an average Monday morning when you, Nanami Kento's wife, were turned into a cat.

"An unusual Curse," Shoko had said, "not longer than a week, surely--"

"Not--not longer than a week?!" Kento spluttered, his glasses lopsided, and, dangled in front of him beneath the arms (legs-- legs, he reminded himself)...you.

You, with two pointed ears, a long whippy tail, your many toe-beans and a perturbed little head-tilt. On the doctors' office couch, a neatly folded (if a little furry) pile of your clothes.

"Meow," you had said.

"Don't 'meow' me," Kento spluttered again, fixing you with a stern look that barely overlaid his concern. You simply stared up at him, long, and feline, and unblinking...and reached out one little paw, pressing it onto the end of his nose.

Kento sighed; a bone-deep, weary sigh. Shoko put out her cigarette, speaking through a haze of smoke.

"Like I said. Give it a week, and Mrs.Nyanyami will be back to nor--"

"What did you just call her?'

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Mrs.Nyanyami, the cat formerly known as Nanami Kento's wife, wanted for nothing.

"I think that tuna's more expensive than anything I've ever eaten," whispered Yuuji to Gojo. On the other side of the conference room, you sat upon the desk before Kento, waiting patiently for the next lump of tuna (meticulously cut into cat-appropriate cubes) to be delivered in his chopsticks.

As Kento's hand approached, you held it close with paw and claws, to steal the pink fish from him. He looked like a surgeon performing heart surgery.

"I just...dont know how he can look so serious while he's doing that," Gojo whispered back, to Yuuji's frantic nods. Still, they watched this freakish nature documentary with quiet obsession.

A higher-up sat down beside Kento, waiting for the meeting to begin. Jolting back, and grumbling, he did a double take.

"Young man-- you can't bring a cat to a Sorcerer's meeting--"

"That's not a cat," Kento snapped, frosty, "that's my wife."

And so began the rumour amongst the higher-ups, that Nanami Kento had gone mad.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"You should leave her at home--"

"--absolutely not--"

"--really, Nanami...just put the television on, she'll be fine--"

"--unequivocally, no--"

"--why not?!"

Silence. An awkward shuffle on Kento's thick chest. You peeked your head out of the pocket of the cat-carrying hoodie that Kento wore over his shirt and tie, and turned to Gojo with narrowed eyes.

"Meow," you had said, batting at Kento's strings, and hooking his tie out with your paw, to kick it to death with your legs.

"I agree," said Kento, whispering and scratching you beneath the chin until you purred, "he's wrong, isn't he? Stupid Gojo. You'd get lonely. You'd get bored. Yes you would..."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Oh my god...he's gorgeous...you should get his number--"

"--I'm not brave enough...you go. I'll get our coffees."

"--okay, okay..." The woman cleared her throat, sweeping her hair behind one ear with her best smile. Kento looked up from his coffee, with one finely raised eyebrow.

"Can I help you?" He lied, unwilling to help anyone at all before he'd finished his croissant.

"Hi, yeah, I just...can't help but notice you're sitting alone, and my friend-- well she-- she just wondered if she can have your number, and--"

The woman broke off into shrieks. Climbing up her leg, all claws and furry vengeance, was you. She shook her leg, shrieking. You hissed. Your cup of steamed milk clattered over the table, slopping everywhere.

"--o-oh my god-- oh my god, what the hell is this cat doi--"

"I'm sorry," Kento sighed, not sorry at all and dabbing his mouth with a napkin and doing absolutely nothing to help, "it's my cat. She doesn't like company--"

Hisses. Claws. Dirty feral yowls.

"Get this fucking thing off me--"

"I can't take you anywhere. No more steamed milk for you."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

At times, you seemed so human. At others, undeniably cat.

Kento would wake to clattering from the kitchen, bleary and feeling around for you, only to remember, and trace his hand up to the furry, round little patch you'd leave behind on your pillow. He allowed himself just a moment of misery, before getting up.

He followed the sounds of cups and kettle and coffee machine, and leaned against the doorway with sleep-mussed hair and a squinting, teenagerish glare.

You were up on the counter, all four paws and determination. You had gotten as far as switching the kettle and coffee machine on, and heaving the cupboard open with your tiny limbs. Kento watched as you tipped your head sideways, managing to drag two mugs out in your teeth. He winced as they almost smashed upon the counter.

"Come on," Kento rumbled, his voice rusty with sleep, "let me do that."

You meowed at him, batting at the air with one angry paw when he stepped closer. Kento huffed, raising his hands in surrender.

"Fine," he tutted, "but I'll pour the water."

"Meow."

"Why? Because you don't have opposable thumbs, darling."

The fur stood up along your spine. You turned around, and around, in a circle, then sat upright. You turned your back on him while you waited for the kettle to boil. Your tail flicked from side to side, irritable. Kento waited, too, reaching out one hand to stroke your ears.

You nudged your back paw out, and pushed his mug off the side to smash on the floor.

Silence.

"...what is wrong with y--"

"Meow."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Skitterskitterskitter.

Distant meows.

Kento groaned, rubbing down his face. He checked the clock, frog-blinking; two in the morning. He groaned harder.

Skitterskitterskitter.

Thunk.

More distant meows.

"Please just come back to bed," Kento moaned into the hands pressed over his face.

SkitterskitterskitterSKITTERSKITTER-- rustlllleerussstle--

Directly over his face.

"Meow--"

"I am begging you--"

RustlerustleTHNKskitterskitterskitter.

Distant meows.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"I miss you."

You raised your head to look at him. Your purring hitched. Your ears tilted.

Kento had murmured, his low voice barely audible. The only light in the living room was the ever-changing light of the television screen. Laid on his back on the sofa, with you curled on his chest, Kento stroked down your back with longing.

You crept up his chest, pressing your cold wet nose to his, and purred. Nose to nose, and cross-eyed, Kento could have cried.

"I really miss you," he repeated, swallowing around the lump in his throat. Your claws dug into his chest, just a little. You rub, rub, rubbed your warm furry head along his jaw until he sniffled, and gave a choked little chuckle.

He fell asleep with you on his chest that night. In so many ways, it was familiar; home. In so many others, you were gone forever.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Meow."

Kento shuffled. His chest felt heavy...warm. His belly felt warm, too. And his lap, and--

Kento's eyes shot open, his head lifting up from the couch.

You bit your lip, naked on top of him, and smiling. Human. An angel.

"Oh, my love," Kento moaned, crushing you to him in a bear hug from shoulder to toes, "you're back-- I missed you, I was so worrie--"

You batted an arm out, swiping last night's wine glass from the coffee table beside you, to shatter on the floor.

Silence. Kento blinked slowly, looking from the wine glass, to you. You felt your cheeks grow hot, swallowing hard.

"God, I...sorry, Kento. Force-- force of habit--"

Part Two linked here!

[blank-potato]

that's what i like

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x Reader

Summary:

It's impossible to teach when you’re hopelessly, irreversibly, maddeningly in love with the one you’re training. “So what now?” he asks, rolling up his sleeves. Big mistake. Huge mistake. Because now you’re at serious risk of going into full cardiac arrest. You didn’t even know you had a thing for forearms until Bob Reynolds. And his? They’re absurd. Or You love everything Bob does, and he doesn't seem to notice.

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, love confessions, friends to lovers, Bob and reader being cute, thirsting over the void a little

WC: 3.1k

A/N: Thank you again to @fire-joestar for the request/idea. Wrote something with the same kind of concept for John Walker, linked here. Enjoy!

***

Bob Reynolds is ruining your life.

Not in the dramatic, villain-of-your-story kind of way, but in the slow, quiet unravelling of your sanity. It’s too hard to be around him with all the smiling and casual charm and accidental intimacy that he does without even realising it.

And it’s always the little things which somehow make it worse.

His voice, for one. You were obsessed with his voice. He could be reading the back of a cereal box or listing off the ingredients in engine coolant, and it would still sound like poetry. Sometimes he’d actually read to you. You and Bob were the only members of the unofficial Avengers book club.

You’d often talk about books you’d read, trading recommendations like secrets, excitedly dissecting plot twists and favourite characters. It became a quiet ritual between you and Bob.

“There’s no audiobook,” you groaned one night, holding up the newest paperback in your stack. “I was hoping to listen to one so I could fall asleep.”

Bob, ever the calm in your chaos, looked over at you with that soft little smile he always wore when he was about to offer something way too generous.

“I can read it to you,” he said, casual like it wasn’t the most heart-stoppingly sweet thing you’d ever heard.

You blinked. “You sure you don’t mind?” you asked, voice tinged with both hope and hesitation.

But he just shook his head, already pulling a chair up beside your bed, brushing off any notion of it being a burden. “Not at all.”

His voice was too much. It filled the space in your room like a blanket. He didn’t touch you, not once, just sat a few feet away reading by the soft light of your bedside lamp. But somehow it still felt intimate, like his voice alone was petting you gently, like fingertips tracing down your spine, calming every frayed nerve.

But his voice wasn’t just soothing, it was sexy. You’d never tell him or the other Avengers this because of the whole traumatic experience and whatnot, but even when he became the void, his voice was something else.

It was dark and mocking, and it had you feeling some kind of way, only a little, because people were literally being turned into shadows and living out their trauma. But still, it pulled at something deep inside you and maybe made you discover a few things about yourself. Maybe something you should be concerned about, but nevertheless...

Although his voice isn’t the only thing that’s contributing to your downfall. 

Just this morning, you’re barely awake and walk in to be greeted by the sight of Bob making breakfast, one of your favourite sights. 

“Morning,” you mumble, suppressing a yawn.

“Morning…” he replies with an easy smile, going about his routine, setting up to make breakfast.

“Thank you, Bob,” you say, turning to him, feeling completely in control, your head still firmly attached to the rest of you.

But then you catch something, he’s cracking eggs one-handed. Now, you don’t know why that’s so captivating. Maybe it’s how strong and big his hands look, maybe it’s the effortless confidence in the motion. Or maybe it’s just because you’re so hopelessly in love with him that everything he does feels like it’s dipped in gold.

Either way, you liked it. A lot more than you probably should’ve.

“You could crack me like an egg,” you mumble quietly to yourself.

“Did you say something?” Bob asks, not hearing what you said, thank goodness.

“No, nothing at all. You’re looking good, the... the breakfast is looking good, I mean…” You stumble over your words, cheeks warming as you try to play it cool.

This crush you had on him certainly didn’t help when you had to help him train. He was like a baby cow, clumsy, unsure, and somehow always one step away from falling over his own feet. And everything he did just made him that much more endearing. The way he bit his lip when he was concentrating, the little apologetic smiles when he missed a step or fumbled a move, the way he always tried again without complaint. It was everything.

“You have to…um you have to…” You start, but your voice trails off as you catch the way he’s looking at you.

Another one of Bob’s quirks that has you going feral… the eye contact. He’s always so focused, so intent, like he’s really watching you, really seeing you. His eyes hold this sharp, unwavering attention that’s equal parts intense and disarming. It totally throws you off your game.

You’re brought back to your senses by him saying your name repeatedly.

“Where’d you go?” he says, putting his hand on your shoulder. You shake off the Bob-induced daze and look at him with full attention.

“I’m too hopeless a student?” He asks.

“Rather, I’m too hopeless of a teacher,” You reply with a chuckle, and it was true. It's impossible to teach when you’re hopelessly, irreversibly, maddeningly in love with the one you’re training.

“So what now?” he asks, rolling up his sleeves.

Big mistake.

Huge mistake.

Because now you’re at serious risk of going into full cardiac arrest.

You didn’t even know you had a thing for forearms until Bob Reynolds. And his? They’re absurd. The veins, the muscle, the smooth strength of his arms just disappearing under the fabric of his shirt. You can only imagine what his biceps look like. Or his shoulders. Or—

You shake your head quickly, trying to banish the rapidly spiralling thoughts. You know Bob is probably confused, waiting for an answer, but your eyes? Yeah, they’re glued to his damn forearms.

Damn his forearms.

“Break,” you blurt. “Ten-minute break. Minimum.”

Before he can respond, you practically launch yourself toward the water fountain, needing a distraction, a cooldown, and maybe divine intervention.

You take a long drink, trying not to think about veins. Or rolled-up sleeves. Or Bob at all. 

But Bob lived in your mind; he had taken up residence there as soon as you met, and he wasn’t moving out anytime soon. It wasn’t fair that he was cute but also kind and helpful? It made you want to crash into a wall. 

You were struggling with a particularly stubborn jar, the kind that mocks you with every twist. You could fight ten people with one hand tied behind your back, balance complex equations in your head, but you couldn’t defeat this jar of pickles.

Bob appears, quiet as ever, and silently offers to take it from your hands. You hesitate, then sigh and surrender.

He reaches over, his hand brushing yours, and takes it. In one fluid motion, he opens it like it's nothing. Like it hadn't just reduced you to near madness. Like your struggle had never even happened.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice barely making it past your lips.

He smiles softly, unbothered, warm. “What are friends for?” he says, placing his hand gently on your shoulder. It’s a brief touch that somehow says more than the words. And then he disappears down the hall, like it was nothing.

Right… friends. 

***

You’re wandering the tower again. When you have nothing to do, your feet always seem to lead you to Bob.

You knock on his door, and after a muffled "Come in," you step inside.

You look around and there he is, shaving in front of a small mirror propped up on the windowsill.

“Hope I’m not intruding…” You say hesitantly.

He glances at you through the mirror, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His hair is slightly damp and tousled, a few strands falling stubbornly into his eyes. He’s probably just stepped out of the shower a few minutes prior, the smell of his shampoo and lotion filling the air. 

He’s holding a razor, face half-lathered, brow furrowed in concentration. You liked him like this, all cute and focused. There was something about the way he moved with such care, guiding the blade with precise, practised strokes. It was intimate in a way you couldn’t explain.

“You don’t have to, but can you help me?” Bob asks, voice gentle but sure.

“Sure,” you reply, stepping closer.

And again, you’re hit with that electricity that crackles between you when your eyes meet. He watches you, patient and open, and you always wonder if he realises just how much that look affects you.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,” you whisper, picking up the towel and dabbing away some stray foam. Your hand is steady now, more confident, and with it comes a strange kind of comfort. The scent of him surrounds you, clean, warm, a little woodsy. It was comforting and something else, too. You wanted to dive into it. To stay wrapped up in that scent, in him. You could only imagine waking up to your sheets smelling like him.

How the hell was the way he smelled even sexy?

“You smell good,” you say, without thinking.

You both go extremely still, equally flustered.

“So do you,” he finally replies, and there's another little pause. You stare at each other, your heart performing an Olympic-level gymnastics routine inside your chest.

“W–where’s your aftershave?” you ask, trying to find something to focus on that isn’t the intensity of his gaze.

“Bathroom,” he says, voice lower now.

You nod, quickly turning away. A second later, you’re back with the bottle in hand. You open it, the scent hitting you all over again, it’s undeniably him.

Without asking, you step closer and start applying it for him, your fingers brushing gently against his jaw, his cheek, his neck. Every feature, each line of his face, every angle was something you could get addicted to. A slow study of a man who somehow never felt like too much. 

You glance up.

He’s standing still, letting you do it, but he’s no longer meeting your eyes.

Now he’s the one who can’t make eye contact.

And it’s… adorable.

He’s quiet under your touch, eyes lowered, breath just a little more shallow than before. You can tell he’s holding back. Holding himself still, as if afraid that leaning into your hand might unravel something he’s worked hard to keep together.

The way his lashes flutter when your fingers graze the curve of his jaw. The way his shoulders tense, then ease, like he’s trying not to sink into the warmth of being seen.

He’s touch-starved. You can feel it, not in desperation, but in the aching restraint. The way his fists clenched and unclenched as if to distract himself. 

And you’re not much better off. Your hand lingers, thumb brushing the edge of his cheekbone, and you’re forced to get a hold of yourself.  

“I’m, uh… all done,” you say, pulling your hands away from his face. You see the way his shoulders drop just slightly as he deflates, but you don’t read into it.

Bob nods, almost like he’s coming out of a trance. Like he can finally breathe again. “Well… thanks,” he says, voice soft.

You offer a quick, awkward smile, and then you’re scurrying your way out of his room like you’ve just committed a felony.

Because, honestly? Being that close to Bob felt like grounds for something dangerous. Emotional trespassing, maybe. Or reckless heart behaviour.

He was too fine for his own good.

And way, way too fine for your good.

***

Bob was always there for you, the most supportive presence anyone could wish for. So when you crashed into his room late at night, just as he’d finally started to fall asleep, he wasn’t mad. Not even close.

“There’s a spider in my room!” you declared, breathless and dramatic.

“It’s midnight…” Bob mumbled, mid-yawn, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Exactly! Imagine my surprise when it came lunging at me from inside my wardrobe. I tried to catch it, but the stubborn fucker escaped and crawled up my wall like it owned the place.”

He blinked at you, then sighed and swung his legs out of bed, already standing. His hair was messy, and his t-shirt clung a little unevenly from sleep. His steady steps led toward your door.

“It’s fine. You can hide behind me,” he said with a soft smile.

Then he casually and instinctively took your hand.

And just like that, something settled in your chest. His hand was warm, steady, and strong. His fingers laced through yours like it was the most natural thing in the world. You could’ve let him hold it for hours.

You followed closely behind, using him shamelessly as a human shield. “Where is it?” he asked, already scanning your room like a man on a mission.

“There,” you pointed, spotting the tiny monster halfway up the far wall. “That’s him. The bold bastard.”

Bob narrowed his eyes and, without hesitation, lifted gently off the floor. You blinked. It still caught you off guard, seeing him use his powers. You hadn’t seen him even float since that day. And now here he was, levitating to defeat a spider for you.

It was more than just endearing.

It was… kind of ridiculously attractive.

He could’ve pulverised it. Turned it to dust without blinking. But instead, he hovered close, cupped it carefully in his hands like it was something fragile, and opened the window to let it go. 

Why the fuck was that so hot?

“Thanks…” you said softly, watching him touch back down, the faintest smile still on his lips.

He looked at you, all sleepy eyes and soft concern. “It’s no problem,” he said, his voice low. “Plus, I kind of liked saving you.”

Your heart did a little twist. You swallowed.

“This is… and you are completely within your right to say no, but…”

He tilted his head slightly, curious.

“Would you stay the night?” you asked, trying to sound casual. “You know. Just to protect me from any future spider insurgencies.”

His smile widened, just a little. “Well,” he said, moving closer, “can’t leave you defenceless now, can I?”

You smile and shift slightly, making enough space for him in the bed. He hesitates for only a moment before settling beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight.

You stare at him, his face softly illuminated by the distant glow of streetlights and the scattered lights of other buildings outside the window. His messy hair is fanned out against your pillow, and you can feel his body heat slowly merging with yours, a quiet warmth that pulls you in like gravity.

“Why’d you come and get me? Why not someone else?” Bob asks, his voice gentle as he turns toward you, rolling a little closer.

“You’re the one I want protecting me from evil spiders,” you answer honestly. No one else even came to mind. The moment you were scared or the least bit unsure, you could always turn to Bob. It was like instinct. 

“Why?” he presses, softer this time. He’s not looking at you now, his gaze shifted to the ceiling. You take a moment to just look at him—his side profile, the way his jaw tenses like he’s bracing for something, the small crease between his brows.

“Because…” you begin, the words slow. You pause, focusing on all the little things you like about him. His kindness, his dry humour, his quiet strength, and the way he always seems to make you feel calm.

Maybe it’s because it’s too late at night. Maybe it’s the safety of the dark. Maybe it’s the way your brain feels hazy and open and ready.

But the next words out of your mouth are:

“I like you.”

Bob freezes for a second, then jumps just a little, like the words caught him off guard. He slowly turns his head to look at you, his expression unreadable at first.

He doesn’t say anything right away. Just stares.

And you wait. Heart in your throat. Every second, stretching. Either he was about to tell you he felt the same… or this was the moment your friendship shattered.

“I like you too,” he says.

His voice is soft and low, like he’s afraid saying it too loud might wake him from a dream. But his eyes are steady. And you can tell that he’s telling the truth.

You scoot closer, close enough to feel the way your breath mingles.

“So…” you murmur, lips twitching into the ghost of a smile, “what should we do about this little situation we’ve got ourselves in?”

Your heart is pounding so loudly, you’re sure he can hear it.

He leans in just a little, voice almost a whisper.

“I think we know.”

Tentatively, he reaches out, fingers brushing your cheek with a touch so careful it makes your breath catch. He looks at you like really looks at you as if trying to memorise the moment, commit it to something deeper than memory.

You exhale, slow and steady, and let yourself give in. You lean forward until your lips finally meet.

It’s soft at first, the kind of kiss that makes your heart soar and your whole body ache with relief. Bit by bit, it becomes more passionate as you melt into one another.  He deepens it, cupping your face fully in his hands, pulling you closer like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go.

And before you know it, you’re climbing into his lap, your arms around his shoulders, his hands steady at your waist. Everything feels like too much and just enough all at once.

He pauses, just barely pulling back, breath ghosting against your lips.

“Are you sure?” he asks, voice husky, careful, but laced with something vulnerable.

You meet his gaze, no hesitation. You were in this for the long haul.

“More than anything.”

The next day, upon seeing Bob’s door wide open and no Bob anywhere to be seen, the team went into immediate panic mode. They searched high and low, worried he’d disappeared on them in the middle of the night.

“Have you seen—?” Yelena begins, swinging open your door mid-sentence, only to stop dead in her tracks at the sight of you and Bob fast asleep, wrapped up in each other’s arms.

The rest of the team crowds in behind her, eyes wide, jaws dropping.

You jolt awake at the sound, blinking in confusion as you realise the entirety of the Avengers are now in your doorway.

You shriek, diving under the covers and yanking them up to your chin to salvage whatever dignity you have left. “Privacy! Ever heard of it?!”

“Called it,” Ava and John say in perfect sync, like they just won a bet.

You groan, your entire face heating as you sink lower into the sheets, mortified.

Meanwhile, Bob? Still fast asleep, completely unbothered by the intrusion, his arm still draped across your waist like nothing’s changed. How is he sleeping through this?

You glance at him in disbelief, then back at the group.

“Can everyone get out now?!”

Yelena smiles. “We’re so happy for you two.”

“Out!”

Masterlist

[morganbritton132]

The first time Wayne meets Steve Harrington, he is nine years old and it's Career Day.

Every year a bunch of people crowd into the gym to tell the kids what they do for a living. This year, Wayne drew the short straw and was sent to represent the plant he works at.

He wasn't expecting his measly poster board to attract a lot of attention compared to the other booths with their models and hangouts. So, it's a little surprising when a kid with big eyes and wild hair marches straight up to him and asks, "What do you do?"

"Plant work."

The kid tilted his head, "Like a gardener?"

"More like an electrician."

The kid stood up a little straighter. His eyes went a little wider the way that his nephew's eyes do when he was interested in something, "Like lightbulbs and wires?"

"Yeah," Wayne answered, and then was immediately assaulted by a series of questions.

The questions were specific like the kid had read a book on electrical work but hadn't quite wrapped his head around it. It made Wayne think of Eddie, many miles away with Al, and all his many weird special interests. He smiled but then the kid asked, "But what if you can't turn the electricity off first? Will you die? I'm Steve, by the way."

"Hi, Steve," Wayne said and then made it very clear, "You should not be messing with any wires without adult supervision. It's very dangerous and you can get hurt."

Steve just huffed at that and then ran off when he saw Mr. Hagan at his booth. He was giving out toothbrushes.

Wayne doesn't think much of that kid after he leaves the school. He doesn't have much reason to until there's a loud insistent knocking on his front door an hour after he got off shift a couple days later.

"...What are you doing here?"

"Hi, I'm Steve. We met before..." The kid said, fidgeting when Wayne just stared at him bewildered. "I asked Mrs. Byers at Melvards where you live. I see you there sometimes."

Wayne raised an eyebrow and Steve rushed, "I need a grown up with super-vision."

This was how Wayne found himself on Saturday morning in the front hall of the painfully empty Harrington household. Steve was beckoning him along and showing him a burnt outlet. He gave Wayne a very serious look, "I need help fixing it."

"Why don't you wait until your parents get back from...?"

"No!" Steve snapped at him. "I'm in charge! Dad said that I have to take care of the house and, and-"

"I don't think he was referring to something like this, kid."

"Yes, he was!" Steve insisted. "Cause I - 'Cause I told him that the lights were flickering when Mama called and he said to figure it out so. So, I got you. That's deli-gate-tion."

And that was how Wayne found himself standing in the Harrington basement with a flashlight and a kid with a death grip on his pant leg. Wayne was looking at the marks on the breaker box where the kid clearly tried to pry it open with a screwdriver when Steve tugged on his leg, "Can you see inside it with your super vision?"

Jesus, Wayne thought and then dedicated the rest of his day to showing this kid exactly why he should not be messing around with electrical wires and maybe. Just maybe, inspiring a future electrician.