#they really only shot her from the neck up

[livvymd]

ALL FOR YOU.

꣑ৎrequest: hello wifey, could u please do something with alfie buttle, he’s like head over heels for her but he doesn’t want to admit it. like total denial but then he just rambled about his feelings to like chip or george (anyone) and the reader overhears?? idk if that made sense lol. please and thank yew x

from my lovely wife @chlomdtvv!!

tws - slight slow burn, tension, overwhelmed feelings, fluff, emotional vulnerability, slight sexual scene (making out / kissing)

꣑ৎa/n: i have never wrote for ab im so sorry if this is lowkey dookie

It started like any other night at Chip’s flat. The low hum of background chatter threading through the room, the soft fizz and drinks of opened cans punctuating the air, the pale flicker of the tv casting a lazy glow as some football match played on, but no one was really watching. The familiar musk of worn sofas mixed with the stale scent of sweat and beer. The room was warm; not just temperature wise, but warm with the kind of easy comfort that only comes from months of routine, from too many nights spent exactly like this, from the easy bond of people who knew each others rhythms without needing to speak.

Alfie was louder than usual though. The usual grumbles and complaints were now sharper, more pointed, more on edge. His voice cut through the murmur, dragging attention even from the distracted.

“She’s not my type,” he blurted suddenly, the words rushing out clumsy and jagged, a little defensive as if he’d been caught mid-thought and was trying to convince himself more than anyone else. He shoved a crisp into his mouth and bit down harder than needed, the loud crunch sounding almost aggressive ─── like it was supposed to bolster the truth of his statement, to prove it real by sheer force.

George’s brow lifted slowly, one arch heavy with knowing amusement. His eyes locked on Alfie, calm but sharp. “You literally just brought her up. Again.”

Alfie’s scowl dropped like a shutter, teh sudden guilt flickering behind his eyes betraying how little he’d realized how obvious he’d been. His mouth tightened, and his hands moved restlessly, flicking a loose thread on his jumper, tapping on his knee, anything to fill the sudden silence he’d created.

“Yeah, well, ‘cause she said the stupidest thing earlier,” Alfie shot back quickly, his voice sharper now, defensive and rushed, like he was desperate to steer the conversation away from himself. His hands waved, emphasizing his point, but also jittery. Like he was trying to shove down the feelings bubbling under the surface. “Said crisps aren’t a proper dinner. Like, fuckin’ hell, what d’you think a pub meal is?!”

Chip snorted quietly behind his bottle, shaking his head with a smirk, eyes flicking between Alfie and George. “You’re obsessed. You know that, right?”

“Obsessed?” Alfie let out a laugh that was too loud, a little forced, and shoved off the back of the sofa, standing up suddenly as if height might lend him more authority or at least distract from the heat rising to his face. He ran a hand through his hair, then looked away for a moment, voice softer but still trying to sound casual. “Nah. I just think she’s─── I dunno. She’s alright. Funny sometimes. Bit annoying. Cute, maybe. I dunno. Not like I’ve noticed or anything.” His words stumbled over themselves, a fragile attempt at denial that only made it clearer how much he had noticed. More than once.

His voice cracks slightly on the word “cute,” but he quickly covers it with a cough, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck as if the word had slipped out too honestly, too close to the surface.

“You talk about her every time we hang out,” George says flatly, eyes never leaving his phone. The casual way he states it somehow makes the truth sting sharper. “You even brought her up last stream when someone asked your favourite food.”

Alfie fidgets. A quick shrug, shifting back into his seat, then scratching at the label on the bottle in his hand as if the motion could distract him from what was being said. “Yeah, and?” he mumbles, voice barely above the room’s background noise. “She likes pasta, innit? S’why it came to mind.”

“You bought her pasta after she said that,” George points out, still doomscrolling, unfazed.

A tight, almost defensive smile quirks at Alfie’s lips. “I like to provide, George.”

The words come sharp, heavy with forced bravado, but his hand twitches just a fraction around the bottle ─── a tiny flicker of nerves betraying the act.

“Alfie,” Chip says slowly, dragging out the name like he’s reading Alfie’s thoughts before he’s even spoken them aloud. He leans back against the couch, calm amusement playing on his lips, quiet certainty in his eyes. “You’re in love with her.”

“Piss off,” Alfie mutters, jaw tightening as the words fall low and clipped. His gaze darts away, anywhere but theirs, swallowing hard as if the accusation has lodged itself deep in his throat.

But something shifts, subtle and uneasy. The spark of defensiveness flickers out, replaced by something far more fragile. His shoulders stiffen, and hes up again, pacing, slow, aimless steps across the room, like movement might drown out the noise churning in his chest. He shakes his head quickly, restless, like trying to shake loose the thoughts, to unchain the truth that’s settling heavy inside him.

“Nah,” he says again, but this time his voice is quieter; softer, almost worn out. There’s a flicker of uncertainty in the way the word falls, like he’s trying to convince himself more than anyone else. “I’m not. She’s just... her, you know?”

His voice catches on something lodged too deep inside him, a hitch that betrays the tightness in his chest. The words stumble out unevenly, weighted with more meaning than he wants to admit.

“She’s─── she’s in my life all the time.” He swallows hard, eyes flickering away for a second, like the truth is too bright to face directly. “She talks shit, always does, makes me laugh more than anyone else. And she steals my hoodies, even when she doesn’t ask, just raids my stuff like it’s hers.” His mouth quirks into a half-smile, but there’s a sharp edge to it, like it’s both endearing and infuriating at once. “And somehow she looks good in them. Like, actually good. Which is the worst part ─── because it’s annoyin’ as fuck.” His voice is betraying his words, though.

His hands twitch at his sides, fingers curling and uncurling like they want to grab onto something solid. His breath catches in his throat, words starting to trip over themselves as if they can’t keep pace with what’s rushing out.

“..she’s got this habit of, like───” He breaks off, cheeks flushing, eyes downcast. The room feels smaller all of a sudden, like the weight of what he’s saying is pressing down on him. “───of playin’ with my hair when I’m knackered, and I always pretend I hate it, but I don’t. Not really.” His voice softens, vulnerable in a way that doesn’t suit his usual loud bravado.

He pauses again, like he might stop, like maybe this is too much. But the words keep spilling, uncontrolled now, raw and unfiltered.

“...and it’s not like I care, but I carry her heels when she gets pissed, ‘cause no one else’ll do it proper. Like, she gets too drunk and just leaves them lying around and I’m the one who ends up lugging the stupid things home. And yeah, maybe I mention her on stream sometimes, but that’s ‘cause───fuckin’ hell, I dunno───‘cause she’s there. In my head. All the time.”

His voice trails off, breath uneven, and for a long moment the only sound is the quiet shuffle of his feet as he stops pacing, the faint scrape of his shoes against the floor.

George and Chip sit still, watching him with expressions that balance between quiet amusement and something softer, something like understanding, or sympathy. The room feels heavier now, like the easy, familiar buzz of earlier has slipped away and left behind a fragile silence. It’s raw, exposed. Like they’re all holding their breath around the weight of the words Alfie didn’t mean to say, but needed to.

“I’m not in love,” Alfie insists, the words spilling out too fast, too forced, as if he’s desperately trying to push them past the lump lodged in his throat. His voice cracks slightly, uneven and rough around the edges, betraying how far from truth they really are, not even to himself. The denial feels fragile, a thin mask stretched tight over something he barely wants to admit. “I just care if she’s safe. And happy. And if anyone gives her shit, I’ll break their nose. Y'know?”

George doesn’t even blink. His gaze stays locked on his phone screen, fingers idly scrolling. His voice is flat, laced with dry sarcasm that cuts right through Alfie’s defences. “Sure,” he deadpans, not bothering to look up. “Totally normal mate behaviour.”

Alfie’s jaw flexes tightly, a quick, sharp movement that’s almost a tic. His knee starts bouncing uncontrollably, tapping rhythmically against the floor in nervous impatience. There’s a heat rising inside him now ─── thick, burning, coiled tight beneath his ribs like a restless animal clawing to get out. It twists in his chest, making his breath catch and falter. His fingers clench briefly on the edge of the couch, gripping as if to ground himself.

“And I buy her stuff,” he continues, voice gaining volume and urgency with every word, “because she never asks for anything, right? She just gets all shy and awkward about it, like I won’t drop a fuckin’ fortune on her if she just looked at something and said she liked it───”

Suddenly he cuts himself off, breath hitching sharply in his throat. Hhis heart pounds hard, hammering like it’s trying to escape from behind his sternum, echoing painfully in his ears. His eyes flicker away from George and Chip, darting around the room as if searching for somewhere safe to hide from his own confession.

“..fuck,” he mutters, voice low and thick with exasperation, “I sound like a simp.”

Chip can’t hold back the smile anymore. It’s warm, teasing but gentle, the kind of grin that’s meant to ease the tension, not mock. “You sound like a man deeply in denial,” he says, voice soft but knowing.

Alfie slumps back onto the couch with a defeated thud, the impact rattling the cushions beneath him. His palms come up quickly to drag down over his face, fingertips pressing hard against his forehead as if trying to wipe away the raw honesty he’s just spilled. For a moment, his hands stay there, hiding the tangled mess he’s unravelled into, the vulnerability he didn’t expect to feel or show.

“I’m so fucked,” he groans, voice muffled behind his hands, thick with frustration and dread. The words tumble out in a ragged sigh. “This is your fault. Both of you.”

“Mate,” George replies smoothly without missing a beat, eyes still glued to his phone, “this is entirely on you.”

From behind the slightly-ajar door, a quiet breath slips out. Barely more than a whisper.

Because what Alfie doesn’t know, what he hasn’t even noticed, is that you’re standing there, just outside in the hallway.

You came with a bag of snacks for the group, the familiar rustle of plastic in your hand as you made your way down the corridor. Then you heard your name, soft but unmistakable, carried through the wall. Curiosity stopped you cold.

You hadn’t expected this.

Your fingers grip the bag of crisps a little too tightly, the plastic crinkling softly under your frozen hand, forgotten now. Your mind scrambles to catch up, heart hammering wildly in your ears with a sharp, uneven beat. The air feels suddenly thick, heavy against your chest ─── like gravity itself pressing in, loaded with everything you weren’t meant to overhear.

He’s rambling. Unfiltered. Vulnerable in a way he never lets himself be when you’re actually there. You can still catch the disbelief in his voice, the tremor of quiet panic beneath the surface, and that sharp crack when he says “fuck,” as if the word escaped before he could stop it.

You blink, staring at the thin gap of the door. One step closer and they’d see you. Hear the telltale creak of the floor beneath your feet, the subtle shift of your presence. One step back and this moment slips away, gone forever.

Fuck it.

The door creaks softly as you push it open just a fraction, the worn hinges betraying your gentle intrusion.

Alfie’s head snaps up so fast it’s like he’s been caught in the headlights, wide eyes flickering between shock and panic. The colour drains from his face in an instant, as if every thought, every word he’d just spilled, has vanished from his mind like smoke in the air.

You blink, voice soft and steady, “hey.”

He stays silent. Completely still, frozen in place except for a faint twitch at the corner of his jaw, like he’s holding his breath and wishing, somehow, the universe could rewind itself ten minutes, erase this moment entirely.

George can’t quite hide his grin; his lips twitch with barely contained amusement. Chip stands up abruptly, shaking his head with a wry smirk. “Right, I’m grabbing a drink. Alfie, mate, enjoy the consequences of your actions.”

They both slip away, disappearing like the traitors they are, leaving behind the unmistakable aura of men who know they’ve just witnessed something devastatingly real and unfiltered.

Now it’s just you. And Alfie. And the silence that settles thick between you ─── so heavy it almost feels suffocating, dense with the aftershock of everything said, everything that can’t be taken back.

“...You heard that?” Alfie finally asks, voice tight and raw, like forcing the words out is a kind of ache.

You nod slowly, the weight of the moment grounding you. “Most of it.”

He sinks deeper into the couch, shoulders slumping forward, as if the cushions might swallow him whole and hide him away. “Brilliant. Kill me now.”

You set the crisps down carefully on the table, hands deliberate and steady despite the tension humming between you.

“You could’ve just said something, y’know.”

He looks at you. Truly looks at you. For the first time in a way that strips away everything he usually uses as a barrier. No lazy smirk curling his lips, no sarcastic glint hiding his feelings. Instead, his eyes are wide and vulnerable, flickering with a raw, unsteady emotion that makes him look almost younger than you know him to be. It’s like hes standing suddenly bare in the center of a spotlight, exposed and uncertain, unsure how to carry himself without the usual bravado shielding him.

“..'Didn’t wanna ruin it,” he mutters, voice low and fragile, barely loud enough to break the silence between you.

You take a slow, steady step forward, feeling the pulse pounding fiercely in your chest. Each beat like a drum echoing against your ribs, a frantic rhythm that makes your breath hitch. Your gaze locks on his, drawing you closer with a magnetic pull that’s impossible to resist.

“Ruin what?” you ask softly, your voice gentle but certain, folding around him like a quiet promise.

His hand lifts vaguely between you, fingers twitching as his eyes dart up briefly to meet yours before flitting away, like the air itself has thickened too much for sustained eye contact. “Us,” he says, voice tight with a mix of hope and fear. “I like how we are. I like takin’ the piss outta you and you threatening to slap me. I like you in my life.”

You stop just a breath away from him, close enough to see the subtle warmth blooming up his neck, the faint flush that colors his skin, delicate and alive beneath the low light. The heat in the room seems to shift, gathering in the space between you.

“Alf. You idiot.” Your words are quiet but firm, dripping with affection and a touch of teasing. “You’re in love with me.”

His head falls back against the couch cushion with a soft groan, as if the weight of your words settles heavily on his shoulders all at once. “Don’t say it like that, girl, I’m barely hangin’ on───”

Without hesitation, you reach out, your fingers trembling just slightly as they weave through the thick strands of his hair. The touch is slow and deliberate, feather-light at first, like you’re trying to memorize the texture of him, the way his scalp yields beneath your palm.

He freezes instantly ─── breath catching sharp and sudden in his throat, body tensing so tightly it’s as if every muscle is holding its breath alongside him. His skin prickles where your fingers thread through the roots, soft strands slipping between your digits, and for a moment the room shrinks until it’s just the two of you suspended in that fragile bubble of heat and unspoken longing.

His eyes flutter closed briefly, lashes resting against his cheeks as if the simple touch grounds him and unravels something inside all at once. The faintest sigh escapes him, a breath of surrender and surprise mingled together.

You don’t pull away. Instead, your hand lingers, fingers gently curling, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin just behind his ears. The slow rhythm of your touch is a silent confession, an unspoken ‘I’m here’ that fills the space left raw by words.

He remains still, taut but no longer stiff, the tension in his body softening just enough to hint at the vulnerability he’s been hiding. And in that moment, everything feels suspended; fragile, electric, and utterly real.

“You like this, don’t you?” you murmur, your voice low and teasing, fingers sliding slowly through the soft strands of his hair. The touch is deliberate ─── slow, warm strokes that leave a trail of heat beneath your skin and send subtle shivers through him. Your fingers curl lightly, knuckles brushing gently against his scalp as you playfully tug just enough to draw a breath.

His breath catches, ragged and uneven. “Fuckin’ hell,” he breathes, voice rough around the edges, a mixture of frustration and something utterly undone beneath your touch. His jaw clenches like he’s trying to hold himself together, but it’s a losing battle. “That’s below the belt.”

A smirk quirks at the corner of your lips. Small but victorious, like you’ve just caught him off guard and scored a secret win. Your eyes sparkle with quiet amusement, watching him unravel.

“You’re the worst at hiding things,” you say softly, your gaze locking with his. The weight of those words lingers, warm and intimate. “You know that?”

His eyes meet yours fully, wide and open, glimmering with a softness that makes your chest tighten. There’s no pretense here, no shields. Just him, honest and unguarded. “Yeah,” he admits, voice low and steady. “But you’re still here.”

Your heart stutters, a thrill shooting through your veins. “I am.”

For a moment, the world narrows down to just the two of you. Breath mingling, the faintest scent of his shampoo curling around you, the steady beat of his pulse under your fingers.

Then, breaking the silence, his voice drops even softer, hesitant but hopeful. “..You wanna, like.. come over? After this thing is over?”

You raise an eyebrow, playful and sharp, testing the waters, your voice teasing but gentle. “Go and do what, Alf?”

His cheeks flare crimson, the flush spreading from the tips of his ears down to the base of his neck, warm and unmistakable. The way his gaze flickers away before snapping back to yours makes your pulse race. “Just.. I dunno,” he stammers, fumbling for words. “Talk. Or don’t talk. Sit around and pretend I’m not a total melt. No big deal, we’ve hung out a lot of times, ya’know, gir───”

Without warning, you close the gap between you, leaning in slowly at first, breath mingling with his. Your lips brush against his, soft and tentative, testing, asking.

Then your mouth presses more firmly, hunger surfacing in the way your lips part, inviting, demanding. Your fingers tighten gently in his hair, warm and steady, as if anchoring yourself to the moment, to him.

His body stiffens at first, breaht hitching sharply, eyes fluttering closed as he surrenders. His hands reach up, trembling slightly, fingers curling around your arms like he’s afraid to lose you, afraid this moment might slip away.

The kiss deepens, slow and consuming. You can feel the subtle rise and fall of his chest beneath your hands, the quickening of his heartbeat echoing in your own ears. His lips are warm, soft, and urgent, moving with a nervous desperation that makes your own heart ache.

If he’s going to keep choking on the words, stumbling, fumbling, unable to say what’s clearly there, then you’ll say it for him. With your mouth.

You lean in, slow and deliberate, the soft warmth of your breath brushing his skin before your lips press lightly against his once again. The world narrows until there’s nothing but the quiet press of your mouth against his, the subtle, electric hum of contact sparking through your nerves. Your lips move just enough to speak without words, to promise without saying anything aloud.

You feel it. The exact moment he melts fully.

It’s like the invisible weight he’s carried for months, that heaviness in his shoulders and tightness in his chest, simply slides off and crashes down, leaving him suddenly light and unguarded. His body softens beneath you, muscles uncoiling like a spring finally released. There’s no resistance, no fight, just a quiet surrender, a letting go he didn’t know he needed.

His hand finds your hip with urgent certainty, fingers gripping like you’re the only thing tethering him to reality. You can feel the subtle pulse of his heartbeat beneath his palm, quick and uneven, as if he’s still not quite sure this is real, like any second he’ll wake up on that couch, mid-ramble to Chip, still pretending you’re just “alright” and “funny sometimes.”

Your breath catches when you finally pull back, eyes locking with his wide, stunned ones. He’s breathless, as if the air itself was stolen from his lungs, and his lashes flutter slowly in a dazed, rebooting kind of way. His lips are bitten raw, swollen slightly from the kiss, parted just enough that you can almost see the words struggling to find their way out.

“Fuck me, girl,” he breathes, voice ragged and hoarse, trembling with something close to awe. “You can’t just do that.”

You grin. Slow, smug, absolutely certain. “Why not?”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard, eyes dark and heavy with want. “’Cause now I’m gonna want you to do it again.”

Your smirk deepens, the satisfaction blooming warm and fierce in your chest. “Good.”

He blinks at you, disbelief and something softer swirling in his gaze. Like he’s still trying to convince himself you’re not a dream he stumbled into by accident. “So we’re doing this?”

“We are very much doing this.”

And then, that grin ─── the one that’s boyish and crooked and full of everything he can’t say out loud ─── blooms wide and unstoppable. You’ve seen it a hundred times, but never like this. Never like it’s meant just for you.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

And then, without hesitation, he kisses you back.

The kiss crashes over you both like a wave, fierce and desperate, slow and searing. His lips move against yours with an urgency that sets your skin ablaze, hands tangling in your hair, fingers pressing into the curve of your back as if to anchor himself to you. Your own hands find his face, tracing the sharp line of his jaw, the rough stubble that’s barely there, the softness behind his ears.

Every sense sharpens. The faint taste of him on your tongue, the warmth of his body pressed close, the steady thump of his heartbeat pounding in sync with your own. The room disappears until there’s only you and him, caught in the raw, messy, beauty of this moment.

[baigepueckers]

Nika Mühl X Reader

Couldn’t Miss You Twice

The bass is thumping in Nika’s chest, not just her ears. Lights flash overhead…neon blues and sharp pinks cutting through the dark haze of the club. She’s surrounded by her friends, half tuned into a conversation about someone’s latest situationship, but her attention is elsewhere.

Across the room, she spotted you.

You’re standing with a small group, laughing about something that makes your nose scrunch up in a way that Nika instantly finds unfairly adorable. You’re not dressed to demand attention, but you’re magnetic���at least to her. The way your fingers wrap lazily around your drink, the tilt of your head as you listen, the effortless way you belong in a space Nika’s never liked for herself.

And she can’t stop looking.

Every time your gaze sweeps the room, Nika hopes it lands on her. She leans back against a table like it’s casual, but every nerve in her body is screaming for an excuse to cross the floor to you. She’s not even sure what she’d say.

But of course, timing’s never been her thing.

“I’ll be right back,” she mutters to her friends, pushing off toward the bathroom. She forces herself not to look at you again…like maybe playing it cool will balance out how obvious she’s been all night.

But when she comes back, you’re gone.

Nika’s eyes scan the crowd, neck craning, heart dropping. Your group is nowhere. It’s like you vanished into thin air and suddenly the club feels a little too loud, a little too packed with people who aren’t you.

The night ends, and Nika can’t shake it. Not in the Uber ride home, not lying in bed with her phone dimly lighting up her face, replaying the image of you over and over. The frustration’s quiet, but there. She’d never even gotten your name.

Weeks pass.

And she thinks about you more than she’d admit.

Her friends are tugging her out again tonight…back to the same club. Nika almost bails, with exhaustion, practice, anything. But deep down a spark of stupid hope keeps her from saying no.

She doesn’t expect to see you again. That’s not how things work. People don’t get second chances in real life. But then…

You’re there.

Same spot. Different outfit. Still lighting up the room in that careless way that makes Nika’s stomach twist.

She freezes mid step, her friends babbling around her…oblivious. For a moment, Nika just watches you. You’re talking animatedly with your friends and she can see the crinkle in your eyes from across the floor.

This time, she’s not missing her shot.

“I’ll be right back” Nika says again, but there’s no bathroom break now. She’s weaving through the crowd before she can overthink it, threading between bodies, her focus locked in.

As she gets closer, you spot her.

And you hold her gaze.

Her heart rate spikes. She doesn’t know if you remember her, but the look you’re giving her feels like an invitation. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

“Hey,” she says, a little breathless when she finally reaches you. “We missed each other last time.”

You blink, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Did we?”

Nika chuckles, cocky but flustered. “Yeah. I saw you here a few weeks ago. Was gonna come say hi, but… you disappeared on me.”

You tilt your head, playful. “You sure that wasn’t on purpose?”

Nika’s smile widens, caught somewhere between amused and enchanted. “You telling me you ditch people before they get the chance to flirt with you?”

“Depends,” you say, sipping your drink, eyes glinting. “Are you gonna flirt with me now?”

God, she loves your energy.

“I was hoping to,” Nika leans in slightly, her voice dropping, “if you let me.”

You’re quiet for a beat, just watching her. Then you smile…really smile and it’s like the whole club fades into background noise.

“I’ll let you,” you say, stepping closer. “But only if you don’t disappear on me this time.”

Nika feels the grin spread across her face. “Not going anywhere.”

You glance at your friends, who are already giving you a knowing look, and set your drink down. “Good. Then dance with me.”

It’s not a question. You grab her hand, fingers lacing through hers like it’s the most natural thing in the world and tug her toward the dance floor. Nika follows willingly, heart pounding, barely aware of how tightly she’s holding your hand, like if she lets go you’ll vanish again.

The music wraps around both of you, but it’s secondary to the way you turn to face her, your hands finding their place at her shoulders. You’re close now…closer than she expected this soon, but she doesn’t mind. She wants it.

“I was starting to think you were imaginary,” you tease, your mouth inches from her ear, and it sends a jolt straight through Nika’s spine.

She laughs, low and a little breathless. “You’re not getting rid of me that easy now.”

You sway together, slowly at first the crowd around you blurring into shapes and shadows. Nika’s hands find your waist, timid but firm, pulling you into her space like you’ve always been there.

The tension simmers, electric, as your bodies move with the beat. You’re still watching her even as you move, like you’re studying her face and the way her lips curl when she grins, how her eyes linger on your mouth.

“Been thinking about you,” Nika says, bold but honest.

You don’t flinch. You don’t play coy. “Yeah? You gonna make up for lost time?”

That does something dangerous to her composure.

“I’m planning on it,” Nika says, her thumb brushing against the sliver of skin exposed at your waist…slow and deliberate.

You lean in closer, noses almost touching now, your breath a whisper against her lips. “Good. Because you’re not losing me in this crowd tonight.”

She wants to kiss you. Right here, right now. But she also wants to drag this tension out, savor the fact that for once, the universe handed her a second chance…and she’s not about to waste it.

Nika’s fingers tighten at your waist, eyes burning into yours. “Stick with me, and I’ll make sure of it.”

The way you smile backs soft, certain, and a little dangerous.

[pinkbowsxo]

Corrupted Innocence - Part 11

Choi Su-bong x F!Reader

Masterlist

summary: during a group hangout, thanos teases you in ways that make nam-gyu suspicious. later, he shares his suspicions with se-mi, leaving her doubtful but curious.

warnings: sexual content, alcohol, swearing

a/n: it’s been a while for this story😩

The apartment was warm and lazily lit, one of those quiet nights that started with no real plan and too many snacks. Nam-gyu had thrown open his windows to let in the city breeze, but the air inside still clung heavy with warmth and the low thrum of music pulsing from the speaker in the corner. You were seated on the left end of the couch, knees tucked up, arms loosely around them, trying to look casual even though your entire body was on alert. Thanos had taken the space next to you, like always, long legs stretched out and an arm draped along the top of the couch behind your head, not quite touching you but close enough that it made you nervous. You could feel him watching you out of the corner of his eye, like he was waiting for you to flinch or crack or lean in, he loved to test the line. Nam-gyu was sprawled out on the rug in front of the TV, back against the coffee table, one beer deep and flipping through something on his phone. Se-mi was in her usual place, legs criss-crossed at the far corner of the couch, phone in hand, laughing every few minutes at her messages.

The conversation was lazy and disconnected, jokes drifting in and out, nobody really paying attention, until Nam-gyu got bored and came back from the kitchen with a bottle of soju and a row of mismatched shot glasses he found in the cabinet. “Alright, we’re not doing this sober,” he said, setting them down with a grin and pouring generously. You hesitated for a second before Thanos leaned over you to reach for a glass, his chest brushing your arm, his breath soft against your neck. “Don’t tell me you’re scared,” he murmured low enough that only you could hear. You blinked, caught off guard by how close he was, and managed a quiet, “…I’m not,” before taking the glass. He watched you drink it with that familiar look, the one that said he was enjoying this way too much.

The game didn’t last long. None of you had the attention span for it, but the drinks kept coming, and so did the teasing. Thanos kept leaning too close, whispering things under his breath you couldn’t even respond to, bumping your knee with his, brushing his fingers over the side of your hand just to watch you pretend not to react. You tried to focus on Se-mi’s story about her professor tripping in the hallway, but it was hard when Thanos was draped beside you like gravity didn’t apply to him and all his attention was aimed solely at getting under your skin. You muttered quiet things now and then, little “shut up”s or “you’re so annoying” when he leaned too close or grazed your leg, but it only made him smirk wider. He loved when you pushed back, even if it was soft. Maybe especially when it was soft.

You reached for a chip, your fingers slipping slightly, and one fell, of course, landing right on your chest, near the dip of your sweater. Your hand froze halfway to grab it, but he was faster. He leaned in suddenly, mouth brushing the fabric, and plucked it up with his lips, his head dipping so close to your skin you forgot how to breathe. You sucked in a breath, the sound barely escaping you. “Thanos,” you whispered sharply, a quiet scolding edge in your voice, your cheeks flushing instantly.

Se-mi burst into laughter, completely oblivious, tossing a throw pillow at him. “You’re disgusting,” she said through a grin, not thinking anything of it. But Nam-gyu… he turned his head a little too slowly. His eyes flicked from Thanos to you and back again, and he didn’t laugh like the others. He smirked, yes, but there was a different weight behind it. He leaned back onto one elbow, still watching, his face unreadable but his silence saying more than anything. Something had clicked. He didn’t say it out loud, he wouldn’t, not yet… but the way he kept glancing over, the sharp amusement behind his eyes, told you he had clocked the tension. Or at least the possibility of something. You looked down, cheeks still warm, brushing invisible crumbs off your sweater, trying not to make eye contact with either of them.

Thanos, of course, didn’t care. Or maybe he cared too much and pretended not to. He leaned back against the couch like nothing had happened, throwing one arm behind your head again, this time letting his fingers just barely graze the top of your shoulder. You stiffened, then exhaled quietly. “You’re such an idiot,” you muttered under your breath. “Mmh,” he hummed. “But you’re still sitting next to me.” He didn’t even look at you when he said it. He just smirked into the air, his fingers drumming against the back of the couch slowly, lazily.

Hours passed like that. Se-mi fell asleep curled up on one end of the couch with a blanket tossed over her. Nam-gyu stayed quiet for the most part, but he watched more now. Every time Thanos reached for something and “accidentally” brushed your hand, or every time you shrunk slightly when Thanos whispered something low and smug against your ear, Nam-gyu didn’t miss it. He didn’t say anything, but you could feel it. The way he kept looking at you like he was trying to solve a puzzle. He said he was tired around three in the morning and disappeared into his room without another word, but the glance he gave you before he left was too knowing.

It was just the two of you now. Se-mi was snoring quietly under her blanket, the playlist still looping softly in the background. Thanos shifted beside you, stretching his legs out fully until they nudged yours. “You okay?” he asked, voice quieter now, not teasing. You nodded once, staring at the dark TV screen. “…Yeah.” He looked at you for a moment, and then leaned in, so close his voice was right by your ear. “You didn’t stop me,” he murmured, not smug this time, just curious. You turned your head toward him, your breath catching. “…I didn’t know how,” you whispered, honest and small and a little tired.

He didn’t answer, just watched you for a moment longer before his fingers trailed down to your hand and laced through your fingers like it was the easiest thing in the world. You let him. Because you were tired, and warm, and maybe stupid. But it felt good. It felt familiar. Like you didn’t want him to stop. He didn’t kiss you, didn’t say anything else. Just stayed like that beside you, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, and eventually, without meaning to, you fell asleep with your head against his shoulder.

The next morning came too bright. You blinked awake to the sound of someone shifting in the kitchen and found yourself still curled against him, Thanos dozing with his arm around you, his breath steady and calm. You sat up quickly, heart racing, just as Nam-gyu walked back into the room holding a mug of coffee. He stopped for a second, eyes catching the scene before you could untangle yourself fully, and raised one brow without a word.

He sipped his coffee slowly, eyes locked with yours. “Sleep well?” he asked, voice easy but laced with something unreadable.

You nodded stiffly, pulling the blanket around your lap. “Yeah.”

“Cool.” He sat down across from you with his coffee and turned on the TV without another word. But his eyes flicked toward Thanos once more, and the smirk that played at the edge of his mouth didn’t fade for the rest of the morning.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Se-mi wasn’t expecting to run into Nam-gyu that afternoon. It was one of those rare quiet days where she had no classes and decided to go grab something sweet to reward herself for existing. She was scrolling her phone as she stepped into the small, cozy café on the corner, a local spot with yellow lights, plants hanging from the ceiling, and the smell of espresso thick in the air. She was halfway to the counter when a familiar voice, smooth and lazy as always, made her glance up.

“Well, well… look who decided to join the land of the living.”

Nam-gyu was leaning casually against the wall near the menu, hoodie zipped halfway. He looked like he had just rolled out of bed, as usual, but he wore that trademark smirk that always made him look like he was either amused by the world or about to start trouble.

Se-mi sighed, tugging her earbuds out. “Wow. Can’t even get a coffee in peace without running into you.”

“Please,” he said, pushing off the wall to follow her toward the counter. “You love me. I bring excitement to your otherwise boring life.”

“You bring noise,” she muttered, ordering her drink.

By the time they both had drinks in hand, they ended up taking the small table by the window. Nam-gyu sprawled in the chair opposite her like he owned the place, one ankle resting over his knee, sipping his iced coffee like it was the middle of summer. For the first few minutes, the conversation was casual just her classes, mutual friends, campus gossip. She made a joke about one of her professors tripping in the hall that made him snort into his drink, and for a while, it felt like any other random encounter.

But she noticed he was watching her too much, leaning back in his chair like he was sitting on a secret he was itching to drop. He finally tilted his head, that smirk stretching a little wider. “So… you free later?”

Se-mi raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Just wondering if you’re hanging with your bestie again,” he said casually, swirling his straw in the melting ice. “You two are practically glued together these days. Or, I don’t know… maybe she’s been busy with other things.”

The way he said it made her pause. “…Other things?”

He leaned forward, elbows on the table now, lowering his voice slightly even though the café wasn’t that busy. “You really haven’t noticed anything? With her? And Thanos?”

Se-mi frowned, suspicion blooming. “Noticed what?”

Nam-gyu gave a low chuckle and leaned back again, eyes sharp now even under the lazy posture. “They’re definitely fucking.”

The bluntness of it hit her like a slap. She choked a little on her drink, glaring at him. “Excuse me?!”

He just grinned, unbothered. “Come on, Se-mi. I’m not blind. The other night at my place? He couldn’t keep his hands off her. He was all over her, little touches, leaning in close, whispering things to make her blush. And she didn’t even tell him to back off. She just froze up like she’s already used to him being all over her.” He swirled his straw lazily, eyes glinting. “And the chip? He ate a chip off her chest. With his mouth. It’s typical Thanos behavior, but it’s about the way she reacted to it”

Se-mi’s face burned, and she shook her head immediately. “No. No way. She’s a virgin. I would know. She would tell me if she lost it. We tell each other everything like that.”

Nam-gyu’s smirk deepened, his voice dripping with amusement. “Yeah? Maybe before. But people start keeping secrets once they’ve got something they really don’t wanna share. You think she’s gonna run to you and say, ‘Hey, I let Thanos have me’? Not when she knows what you’d say. She’s keeping it to herself because she likes it too much.”

Se-mi glared, gripping her cup tighter. “…You’re being ridiculous. She’s not like that. She’s shy. She wouldn’t-“

“She wouldn’t?” he cut in smoothly. “She already is. You saw her face that night. You saw the way she looked at him and the way she couldn’t even look at anyone else when he touched her. That’s not new. That’s comfort. That’s a girl who’s already been sneaking around with him for a while.”

Se-mi faltered, her mouth opening and closing without a word. Images from that night flickered in her head, the blush on your cheeks, the way your voice went small when you muttered at Thanos, the silent tension that hung in the room whenever he leaned close. It had seemed like his usual shamelessness at first, but now she wondered. “…If she was sneaking around, I’d notice something,” she said finally, softer. “We hang out all the time.”

Nam-gyu leaned in slightly, voice low and certain. “You wouldn’t. Not unless you were looking for it. And trust me, I’ve seen this a million times. The way he was touching her? The way she just sat there, letting him? That’s not some one-off crush. They’ve been doing this for weeks. Maybe months. They’re probably sneaking around whenever they can. And if they’re not already fucking…” He paused, his grin turning sharp. “…they will be. Soon. She’s already his.”

Se-mi’s stomach twisted, and she hated the way doubt crept in despite herself. She wanted to argue again, to insist you would tell her anything that serious, but Nam-gyu’s smug certainty stuck under her skin like a splinter. She sipped her drink in silence, trying to think of all the little moments she’d brushed off, and suddenly they felt heavier.

Nam-gyu leaned back, satisfied, his grin lazy and cruel in the way only someone like him could pull off. “Watch her next time. Watch the way she reacts to him. You’ll see what I mean. They think they’re being subtle, but they’re not. Not to me. And now? Not to you either.”

[callsignpxnguin]

is it possible for a wild west drabble where reader is a barmaid and price wants her to be his little wife??? totally ok if not!! -🦄

as an avid RDR fan, i gladly accept, though it went a little off-topic than where i initially imagined it so sorry 😭 <3 TW: slight dubcon!

When he first walked into the bar, you didn’t notice him.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t eye-catching — because he was clearly the opposite — it was just that a fight had broken out only moments earlier, and you were trying desperately to break it apart. So, naturally, you weren’t focusing on who was entering just then.

And so John Price sat himself in the corner silently, unnoticed and watching. Eyes fixated on you, not that you were aware. His mind was turning slowly.

The bar was filled with raucous yells and shouts, some egging the brawl on and some clamouring for it to end. Unfortunately, that meant that you couldn’t stop it without risking getting punched in the face, and so you had been reduced to desperately pulling on their clothes when you could.

As you could imagine, it wasn’t very effective. And no-one was doing anything to help you.

A sharp blow landed on your stomach and you stumbled backwards with a pained groan. Tears fought to bloom in your eyes, but you bit them back, because what kind of outlaw respected a barmaid who sobbed at a measly fistfight?

“Stop it! Both of you! Please!” You rasped, ducking behind a barstool in an attempt to cover yourself. One of the men ignored you — the other sneered, and spat at you.

It was at this point that John decided that he had had enough.

Boom.

Almost akin to a thunderclap, the sound of a single bullet rang out suddenly, effectively freezing everyone in place. All yells faltered, and an eerie silence quickly engulfed the room.

Your head snapped to the perpetrator, who had stepped onto a table, pistol aimed at the ceiling (which now sported a tiny hole) in hand.

“You heard the lady,” John drawled. “Either stop fighting like children, or take it outside. Otherwise the next bullet’ll hit a mark, and I’m sure no one likes cleaning bloodstained out of floorboards.”

The men scattered like mice, out of the door before you even managed to process what happened.

And then the rest of the bar went back to normal conversations, albeit some shooting the stranger some nervous looks beforehand.

It was laughable, you thought, just how easily this stranger managed to calm the chaos. Nonetheless, you owed him deeply, and were ready to offer as many thanks as you could when you noticed him approaching you.

“I— thank you so much, mister,” you stuttered, eyes averted to the ground. “I’m sorry you had to step in, but I’m really grateful that you did— please, have any drink you want, on me.”

“Not a problem, sweetheart. Don’t need a free drink. I did what anyone could’ve done.”

You blinked, glancing up and meeting his gaze. Big mistake. His blue eyes twinkled with a charm that had you flushing from the neck up, and there was something about the shape of his jaw that made you want to swoon. “But— but they didn’t. Please, really, I do insist…”

“…If it makes you happy for me to have one, I wouldn’t mind a beer, darlin’.” He winked just slightly, so quick that you almost didn’t catch it. You nodded hurriedly and immediately brought him a glass, full to the brim. The stranger took a long sip, and you watched his throat bob before he set the glass back down. “Delicious. Name’s John, by the way.” John offered his hand out to you, and you took it, his callouses rough on your palm. “What’s your name, love? And what were those bastards fightin’ about?” His questions were slow, easy, casual — but your heart was beating so loudly in your chest that his tone only stressed you out more.

You told him your name nervously, before adding, “One of them won at poker. The other one got angry.”

The man — John — barked a laugh. “All that over gambling? They deserved to get shot.”

His eyes raked down your body — from the tight apron you were wearing to your neckline, where a thin strip of your cleavage was open. He wasn’t subtle about it; in fact, he was almost performative in the way he admired you, and that only served to heat your cheeks further.

“You got a husband that runs this place with you?” He asked suddenly, eyes flicking back up to your face.

Words seemed to stick in your throat. “No, mister. Just me. Inherited it from my parents.”

“Good.”

Good? What was that supposed to mean? You smiled nervously, waiting for him to elaborate.

“You want one?”

“E-excuse me?” What was he saying?

“You heard me. Must be tough, a pretty bird like you managing a place like this all by yourself. I’d gladly help you… if you wanted me to.” Even though he phrased it like you had a choice, something told you that it wasn’t something you could say no to.

“I— I—“ You were certain you were going to explode — though whether it would be from embarrassment or from how turned on you were, you weren’t sure. “A-are you sure, mister? I mean—“

Suddenly, a hand was behind your neck and you were being pulled forward into a kiss.

The taste of beer was subtle on his tongue, but what hit you first was the smell of cigars that enveloped him. You would’ve imagined such a smell to be too pungent, too dirty, but right now? It smelled heavenly. You kissed him back greedily, years of loneliness seeping into desperation as the had he had on your neck tightened its grip.

“You could be such a pretty little wife for me… you want that, yeah?” He murmured as he pulled back for a moment, breath hot on your face and sending shivers goosebumps flaring across your flesh.

“Y-yeah,” you whispered, trembling, before kissing him again. Honestly, you did want it. It was hard work running the bar, and finding a good man was even harder. Maybe John wasn’t good, but he was certainly strong and dependable. It helped that he was also incredible with his words.

You squeezed your thighs together as he pulled you up onto the countertop, before he rasped, “You got any rooms upstairs?”

[skmhlml]

Can I request a skips shadley x female/afab reader fanfic where the reader is a soprano who works at the theater skips also works at, and basically they have do the play the Phantom of the Opera and the reader is given the role of Carlotta despite skips believing that the reader should be be Christine. Then what happens is they begin to form a friendship during the progress of the play/ during practice time and skips says, "Oh you should play as Christine daae" and the reader disagrees but skips challenges the reader and they end up going on a supposed "friend" date dressed as the phantom and Christine where it ends with them making out aggressively.

Thank you if you do do this request :DD!!

Date requested: 7/30/2025

Fandom: Date everything!

Type: one-shot

Skips Shadley x female/afab!Reader

The dusty light filtered through the velvet curtains of the Starlight Theater, catching suspended motes in a golden glow. You stood center stage in your rehearsal heels, clearing your throat before hitting a high note that could cut glass.

Applause echoed— but only from the shadows.

“You’re wasting that voice playing Carlotta,” came a familiar drawl from the darkness of stage right. “That role is shrill. Loud. Lacking the… ghostly grace Christine should have.”

You rolled your eyes, lowering your music binder. “Good morning to you too, Skips.”

He stepped out of the gloom, trench coat trailing, scarf half-wrapped around his neck, hair falling across one eye like always. He carried a clipboard and a black coffee probably lukewarm by now.

Skips was the tech director, light board operator, and occasional stand-in for “mysterious voice from above” roles. He’d once voiced Hamlet’s father using only a pitch modulator and a closet full of dry ice.

He was also your biggest critic and, if you were being honest, your most curious admirer.

“I’m serious,” he said, perching on the orchestra pit railing. “You have Christine’s range. Her softness. Her— what do theater nerds call it? Ethereal quality.”

You blinked. “You think I’m ethereal?”

“I think Carlotta’s a hack and you’re slumming it.”

“Skips,” you said, laughing, “you know I auditioned for Christine. I just didn’t get it.”

“Wrong.” He pointed a finger dramatically. “You didn’t fight for it. You auditioned like a soprano. Not like the Phantom’s obsession.”

You placed your hands on your hips. “And what exactly does that mean?”

He smirked. “It means you need a little drama in you. Come to the lighting booth tomorrow. Midnight. I dare you.”

⸻

You expected a prank. Maybe he’d cue strobe lights and fog machines just to spook you. But when you entered the booth at midnight, he was there—cloaked in black, full Phantom regalia.

“You’re late,” he said. “Christine wouldn’t keep the Phantom waiting.”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, already halfway to laughing.

“Say it right,” he corrected. “‘Oh my phantom,’” he added with a grin.

He handed you a white gown Christine’s iconic rooftop dress. And a wig. And a mask.

“This is…elaborate,” you said, holding the costume against yourself.

Skips leaned against the console, gazing at you with an intensity you weren’t used to. “I want to hear you sing Christine’s part. Not because of some casting list. But because I know it’s you.”

Your throat tightened a little.

“You’re serious?”

“Deadly.” He stepped forward. “One friend-date. One night. Dress the part. Sing it with me. If you suck, I’ll drop it. But if you don’t…”

You squinted. “What happens if I don’t?”

His voice dropped to a whisper, “Then I won’t be able to stop thinking about you the next time you sing.”

⸻

The theater was empty when you met again— two days later. You wore the gown. He wore the cloak. You even wore the mask, just for fun.

He guided you onto the stage beneath a single spotlight. No audience. Just Skips, the orchestra on speaker, and your voice.

You sang. You really sang.

Skips stood in the wings, watching with his whole chest. His mouth parted somewhere between “Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again” and “Point of No Return.”

You didn’t see him cross the stage when you finished but you felt him behind you.

“That,” he breathed, inches from your ear, “was Christine.”

You turned slowly, your breath catching when you saw his eyes dark, wide, adoring. The tension had built for days, maybe weeks, and it snapped like a violin string.

Neither of you said a word. You grabbed his collar. He grabbed your waist.

And you made out, hard. His mask fell. Yours shifted sideways. You tasted coffee on his tongue and heard the Phantom’s overture thundering from the speakers like a cue.

His hands tangled in your hair, your nails on his back. Every inch of dramatic tension from weeks of subtle glances and offhand compliments now burning between the two of you in the heat of stage lights and borrowed costumes.

Eventually, you broke apart, breathless.

“So…” you whispered, brushing his hair back. “Still just a friend date?”

He smirked, lips bruised and perfect. “I don’t think the Phantom would be satisfied with friendship.”

[loveroffemmes]

The Hunt | Shauna Shipman x Fem!Reader

warnings: one-shot, angst, death/murder bc hunt, choking, no fluff

summary: shauna is no longer the person you fell in love with before the crash, she's changed and it seems like she hardly recognizes you or herself.

“She’s gone crazy, we need to do something about her.” Mari whispered, her voice not daring to raise any higher than the wind blowing through the trees.

“Does she really want to do another hunt? For fucks sake, we are going to kill off our entire team before rescue at this rate.” Natalie replied, a hand running through her mostly brown hair. Her hair had started to look a little gray these days, I think the stress of it all finally hit. I think the second Lottie put that axe through that guy’s skull, Natalie lost it. 

“It’s Shauna, she wouldn’t actually go through with it. When Natalie pulled the Queen card, we only tried to hunt her because we were hungry. Now, we’re all fed and…things are just different.” 

“You’re in denial.” Gen spoke up, “You’re too fixated on the Shauna you knew before we crashed. You’re too fixated on Shauna-your-girlfriend and not Shauna now.”

Shauna’s loud whistling broke up our meeting. She wouldn’t really do it. She was all talk, no action. Looking at the girls surrounding me, they seemed to not agree. Their faces were pale and the silence that fell was unlike any other. 

We stomped through the snow, making our way towards Shauna, Lottie, Taissa, and Van. Van was shuffling the deck of cards in her hand, a solemn look etched on her face. She couldn’t be serious. None of them could be serious. Natalie’s hunt was for food, it wasn’t really for a sacrifice! 

“Get in a circle.” Shauna demanded, her voice laced with excitement. 

Everyone did as she said. Van held out the cards for each person to draw, her head held low as she did so. Person after person, each drawing and holding up a card. 

God, the relief I felt when Shauna didn’t draw the Queen. Even if she insisted we do this hunt; I don’t think I could bear to lose her, much less see her get hunted. 

I picked the card up, holding it next to my face before looking at it for myself. The Queen. 

“We’re not seriously going to do this—” Mari tried to speak, but Lottie cut her off. 

“It’s what the Wilderness wants, isn’t it?” 

Shauna wasted no time in counting down, a smile planted on her face as she did so. 

“R-Run, (Y/n)!” Natalie shoved me, trying to snap me out of my shock before Shauna counted to zero. 

I ran. I ran until my legs hurt. I ran until it hurt to breathe. It didn’t matter, Shauna had always been the fastest out of all of us. I just never imagined she would be using her speed to do this. 

There was nowhere for me to go. I turned to face Shauna, praying that it was all some kind of horrible dream that I would wake up from, that maybe she would see my face and see the me from before the crash, just like how I see the her from before the crash. 

Those big, brown eyes seemed so dark now. Her lips thinned as she smiled, it was eerie and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t picture her normal smile, it had been a long time since I had seen it. 

Shauna stepped towards me, dropping the weapon she had picked out and raising her hands to her face to pull down the makeshift mask she made out of a torn Wiskayok hat.

“Shauna, you don’t have to do this…We can survive this winter, we know how to now.” My words fell on deaf ears. Shauna took another step closer and I didn’t bother to run. Maybe I was too tired, maybe I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction. 

Shauna lunged at me as though I was her prey. 

With her hands around my neck, it no longer felt like Shauna. 

I had ignored it all for way too long. I had pretended that it was all okay when Shauna was drifting further and further from not only me; but from her innocence, from her sanity. 

I was nothing more than the next meal and I was too blindsided by who I had known before the crash to realize. 

I always assumed Shauna was still Shauna underneath all of the anger. Was I too stupid to realize what was happening? Was I simply holding onto the only thing that was keeping me through the seasons – the thought that Shauna was still the doe eyed sweetheart who nervously took my hand before every game? 

Those same hands wrapped around my neck, stripping me of the life I had built with her.

masterlist

[ayan140]

🖤Chapter 11: He tried it.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:

Word count:2292 words

Don’t miss my A/N at the end! <3

————

The jungle smelled different today.

It wasn't the sweat or the wet leaves or the burnt rice someone messed up back at camp. It was the quiet. The too-perfect kind. The kind that tells you something's off before anything actually happens.

And maybe that's why I felt weird stepping out of my tent that morning. Or maybe it was because Zora hadn't looked me in the eye since she told me she wanted to be the only one seeing me bathe. My towel routine, apparently, was her personal concern now.

The memory made my face heat up all over again.

I spotted her by the campfire, sitting on an overturned crate, sharpening her blade like it personally pissed her off. Sparks flicked from the edge. Her brows furrowed. Her jaw tight. She was brooding. Classic Zora.

I didn't know whether to go to her or give her space. So, naturally, I did the one thing I always did when I didn't know what to do.

I turned around.

And walked straight into Jake.

"Whoa," he said, hands flying up to steady me. "Careful, sweetheart. You fall any harder and I might start thinking it's for me."

I stepped back, a little too quickly. "Don't flatter yourself."

His grin widened. "Too late."

He was shirtless. Again. Because of course he was. I tried not to look, but the guy clearly lived in a gym before he ended up on this island. The worst part? He knew it.

"Everything okay?" he asked. "You looked a little... rattled."

"I'm good," I said, brushing past him, but he kept pace beside me.

"Still thinking about last night?" he asked.

I froze.

He tilted his head. "You know. The whole... lake incident."

"Not really."

He chuckled. "That bad, huh?"

"No, Jake, it's just that being nearly naked next to a teammate isn't really in the mission handbook."

"Well," he said, voice dropping, "maybe it should be."

I shot him a look. "Are you flirting with me?"

He grinned again. "Am I that obvious?"

"Yes."

Jake smirked but didn't back off. "You know, I've been wondering something ever since you got here."

I didn't ask what. I should've.

"How does a girl like you end up stranded here? With all these rough types. You're... different."

"Different good or different 'gonna get eaten by a raptor'?"

He laughed. "Different good. Definitely. You bring something new. Energy. Fire."

I crossed my arms. "And let me guess. You like fire."

"I like you."

It was out there now. No more teasing. No more hinting.

And I didn't know what to say.

Before I could even try, his hand came up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

I stepped back.

"Jake."

His smirk faltered. "Too soon?"

"Too not-gonna-happen."

He blinked. "Right."

A silence stretched between us. Thick and awkward.

I heard footsteps behind me and turned, relieved—

Zora.

Her eyes locked on us. She didn't say a word. Just stared.

Jake straightened up like a kid caught stealing cookies.

"Zora," he said, trying for lightness. "Just chatting."

Zora's gaze flicked from him to me. "Looked like more than that."

Jake scratched the back of his neck. "Misread the room. It happens."

Zora didn't respond. She didn't need to.

The silence was louder than any warning.

Jake muttered something and walked off, and for the first time in five minutes, I could breathe.

Zora stepped closer. "You okay?"

"I'm fine."

She studied me. "He touched you."

"He was just—"

"Don't defend him."

I hesitated. "Zora, it wasn't a big deal."

"Yes, it is," she said. "Anything that makes you uncomfortable is a big deal."

My breath hitched a little.

And for a second, she looked like she was gonna say more.

But then her walls snapped back up. "We leave in ten."

⸻

We split into teams shortly after breakfast. The mission was routine: secure a perimeter on the west trail and check for signs of movement. Too many reports of something big lurking nearby. Could be a dino. Could be a predator worse than that. Human.

Zora, Jake, and I were one team.

The others headed east.

A guy named Harris stayed back at the camp to watch our supplies.

We moved through the jungle in silence, machetes in hand, swatting through vines. Jake was ahead, humming something under his breath. Zora kept close to me, fingers twitching like she was ready to knock his teeth in if he so much as looked at me sideways again.

"You're quiet," I said to her after a while.

She didn't look at me. "Focused."

"You mad?"

"No."

"You sure?"

She finally glanced over. "I'm not mad. I'm... protective."

I slowed a little to walk beside her. "Of me?"

Zora nodded. "You're not just some girl who ended up here. You matter. To me."

My heart thudded.

Then Jake called back, "Hey lovebirds, you coming?"

Zora shot him a glare that could've vaporized the leaves.

⸻

We made camp for a break about an hour later.

Jake threw down his pack and stretched. "I'll go check that ridge over there. Give you two some alone time."

Zora didn't even pretend not to roll her eyes.

When he disappeared from sight, I turned to her. "You're scaring him."

"Good."

I smiled. "That protective streak is getting bold."

"You think it's a problem?"

"No. I think it's kinda hot."

That stopped her.

Zora looked at me. Really looked.

The fire in her eyes softened.

"You make it hard," she murmured, "to keep my distance."

"Then don't."

Her gaze dropped to my mouth. Just for a second. But I saw it.

Then she shook her head. "You deserve someone better than this. This place. Me."

"I decide what I deserve."

Her jaw clenched like she wanted to say more, but Jake returned before she could.

"Ridge is clear," he said. "No signs of movement. But someone's been through there recently. Fresh tracks."

"Human?" Zora asked.

"Looks like it."

That got her attention. "How fresh?"

"Hour. Two tops."

We exchanged looks.

"Let's keep moving," Zora said.

Jake nodded. "After you, boss."

But not before his eyes slid toward me again.

Zora noticed. She always noticed.

And as we moved deeper into the jungle, I could feel it—

The tension between all three of us wasn't going anywhere.

Not yet.

————

The jungle was louder today.

Not the usual insect buzz or distant birdcall—this was something deeper. More guttural. Echoes that didn't sound like echoes. Something new was out there. And whatever it was, Zora was already ten steps ahead, her blade gripped tight, her jaw set hard.

I followed close behind her, trying not to look as rattled as I felt. Jake, of course, lagged a few feet behind, whistling softly under his breath like this was a nature walk and not a literal death march.

"This area's not raptor territory," Zora muttered, pushing back thick branches. "Too humid, too close to the river."

"Cool. So what are we worried about?" Jake said casually.

Zora shot him a look. "Plenty."

We moved deeper into the greenery, the air getting thicker with each step. A small team had split off to search the other side of the ravine, and one man stayed back at camp to guard the supplies. This route was ours: Zora, Jake, and me. What could possibly go wrong?

Jake kept creeping closer to me every chance he got. Brushing shoulders. Offering to "spot" me while I climbed over logs like I was gonna faceplant without his help.

"You sure you're up for this, rookie?" he asked, eyeing me with a smirk.

I raised a brow. "You worried about me, Jake?"

His smirk widened. "Only 'cause I'd hate to have to carry you back. Not that I'd mind."

Zora didn't say a word, but her knuckles whitened around the handle of her machete.

Jake noticed.

And clearly enjoyed it.

We reached a small clearing near the water's edge. The trees thinned out enough for us to see the river bend—and right there, drinking from the edge, was something huge.

Not a raptor.

Not anything I'd ever seen before.

The creature had a low-slung body, thick, leathery skin, and a head shaped almost like a crocodile's—but bulkier. It was covered in mud, slow-moving, with wide feet and a long tail dragging behind it. It looked like a living tank.

"What the hell is that?" I whispered.

"Baryonyx," Zora replied softly. "Fish-eater. Usually keeps to itself, but don't get too close. The jaws can crush bone."

Jake leaned a little too close to me. "Looks like it skipped breakfast."

"Back up," Zora said sharply. "Slow. Quiet."

We obeyed. I kept my eyes on the creature as we moved behind some foliage. It didn't follow. Just returned to the water, snapping at fish with those massive jaws.

"New species for you?" Jake asked me, low and teasing.

I nodded. "Didn't know dinosaurs could look like rejected crocodiles."

Zora snorted. Quietly. Almost like she was proud of me.

Jake, of course, tried to ruin the moment. "If we're listing dangerous creatures, Zora should probably be top of the list."

"I'm flattered," she said dryly.

We kept moving after that, winding through the jungle, skirting around large prints and broken branches—clear signs that something even bigger had passed through here recently. Then Jake started lagging behind again. On purpose.

When Zora scouted ahead a few meters—doing her usual protective sweep—he fell into step beside me.

"Can I ask you something?" he said.

"Shoot."

He leaned in a little. "Are you and Zora... a thing?"

I blinked. "What?"

"Just asking," he said, raising his hands innocently. "You two are always whispering. Sleeping in the same tent. Sharing those... looks."

I gave a short laugh. "You jealous?"

He grinned. "Maybe. Can't lie—been trying to find a moment with you since day one."

I swallowed hard. This was exactly what I didn't want right now.

"Jake, I—"

"Hey, relax," he said. "I'm not gonna be a creep about it. Just saying... if you ever get tired of jungle knives and death stares, I'm around. Friendly company. Flirty company."

I glanced toward Zora. She was crouched, examining a trail of deep claw marks on a nearby tree. But something in her posture told me she was listening.

"I'm not interested," I said, firm but not cruel.

Jake tilted his head. "You sure?"

"I'm sure."

His face flickered for half a second—some mix of bruised ego and frustration. But then he smiled again, too smooth.

"Your loss."

He walked ahead, catching up with Zora. I followed, feeling the tension crackle between the three of us.

But that was just the start.

⸻

Later, we made camp for a short break. The sun hung high overhead, making everything hot and sticky. Zora checked the perimeter while Jake and I refilled the water flasks near a muddy stream.

He was quieter now. Not talking. Not teasing.

Just... watching me.

Like he was thinking something.

Something I wasn't gonna like.

I kept my distance.

When Zora returned, I could tell she noticed. Her eyes flicked between me and Jake, lips pressed tight.

"You good?" she asked me.

I nodded. "Yeah."

"You sure?"

Jake chimed in. "She's fine. We were just talking."

Zora's eyes narrowed. "I didn't ask you."

Jake smirked. "Protective much?"

"She's part of my team."

"Oh, is that all she is?"

"Jake," I warned.

Zora stepped closer. "You wanna finish that sentence?"

Jake rolled his eyes. "Relax. I'm not starting anything."

Zora didn't back off. Her whole body was tense, like she was ready to fight. Not just Jake—but the whole damn jungle if it came to it.

That's when we heard it.

A crash.

Then a screech.

Then another—deep, echoing, metallic.

Zora's head whipped toward the sound. "That's not a raptor."

We turned as trees split in the distance.

Out stepped something massive—taller than any of us, with thick armored plates running down its back. A horned face, like a triceratops but longer, meaner. Its roar shook the ground beneath us.

"Pachyrhinosaurus," Zora breathed. "That's not supposed to be here."

"Should we run?" I asked.

"No," she said. "It's territorial. Not a predator. But if we spook it, it'll charge."

Jake stepped too close to me. "Guess it's a good thing we've got Zora, huh?"

I moved away from him and stood beside her. She didn't say anything, but her hand brushed against mine—barely there. Just enough to feel. Just enough to mean something.

We stayed frozen until the creature passed, crashing back into the jungle.

When it was finally quiet, Jake broke the silence.

"Okay, now I'm ready to go back to camp."

Zora didn't respond.

Neither did I.

We just walked.

Together.

And Jake trailed behind this time.

Silent.

Watching.

Thinking.

⸻

Back at camp, things were... off.

One of the guys—Marcus—was shouting about stolen supplies. Food was missing. A med kit. Two blades. One of the radios. No signs of break-in.

Just gone.

Zora scanned the area, tense and quiet. Jake helped search, acting all innocent and helpful.

But her eyes stayed on him.

Mine did too.

And when we turned in that night, Zora's voice was low in the tent, almost a whisper.

"Don't be alone with him."

I nodded. "I won't."

She hesitated. Then added: "I don't trust him."

"I know."

Zora sat on the edge of the bedroll, muscles tight. Like she wanted to say more. Like the protective fire inside her was burning a little hotter than usual tonight.

I reached for her hand.

She let me.

And didn't let go.

Not even when the lights went out.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:

A/N: Heyy :)

I know I haven’t posted in over a week, sorry for that. I mean school is starting in 2 weeks and I still haven’t gotten my summer glow up, so I’m working out extra hard and can’t stay up till 2am. Need my beauty sleep yk :)

Anywhooo I will post every other day/night. Goodnightttt xxx

[itsrainingpandas]

DA Kiss Week

Day 4 - Battlefield - feat. Rookanis (and smooches for the rest of the Veilguard) (Ao3)

Davrin and Rook make a bet

“All right, how much do you bet me?”

Davrin looked at her quizzically as he threw a darkspawn back with his shield. “What?” 

“How much do you bet that I can’t do it?” Rook repeated with a grin, yanking her mage knife from the chest of a hurlock. 

Davrin swept his sword against the crook of his arm to clear away the blood. “Really?” He glanced around the battlefield, crawling with the ancient darkspawn. “We’re in the middle of a fight, Rook.”

“Yeah, exactly!” She looked around at their team, set far apart in an open area of the wetlands. “I think I can do it.”

Davrin sighed, following her look and calculating in his head. “I’ll tell you what…I’ll give you a gold for each one, plus three for getting them all. Ten gold, easy. But!” He interrupted her premature gloating, “you can’t just tap them with your hand.”

Rook put one hand on her hip. “What do I do instead?”

He thought about it before a grin split his lips. “Kiss on the cheek.”

Rook groaned, looking at their spread of allies once more. “That’s so much harder!”

“That’s why the gold, and— behind.”

Rook ducked and Davrin thrust his sword over her head, allowing a charging darkspawn to spear itself on the blade. Rook sidestepped and set her boot against the spawn’s midsection, allowing Davrin to pull his weapon free. “—and when you lose—“

“If I lose—“

“You’re in charge of cleaning up after Assan all week.” His eyes took in the battlefield. “Better hurry. Only lasts until the last darkspawn falls.”

Rook weighed this, but she already knew her answer. She rarely backed down from a challenge, even a ridiculous arbitrary one to. So she grinned as she flipped her mage knife in the air and caught it by the hilt. “You’ve got yourself a bet, warden!” And then she took off.

Rook ran across the field, dodging around massive, uncoordinated darkspawn bodies as she did. Occasionally she would summon a blast of magic or run her blade against a torso, but she was on a different mission now. 

Harding was the farthest out, using her bow to pick off smaller darkspawn, so Rook went to her position on the outskirts first. She didn’t see the moment Harding saw her, but after letting an arrow fly the dwarf asked loudly, “Everything alright, Rook?”

“Couldn’t be better!” Rook said brightly. Harding knocked back another arrow, pulling the bow string taught to the corner of her lip. As soon she she let it fly, Rook took the free space it created and planted a big kiss on Harding’s cheek.

The other woman startled, face flushing. “Wha— Rook!”

Rook laughed but didn’t wait. “Tell you later bye!”

One down. 

Bellara was next, closer to the action but still not in the middle of it, firing great bolts of magic that Rook could feel in her ears. One smaller darkspawn was flanking Bellara as she tried to get her next attack ready, so Rook made herself useful. She jumped, plunging her blade straight down through the top of the creature’s shoulder, near its neck. It let out a howl, trying to swipe over its head with the uninjured arm. Rook tensed with focus and sent a pulse of lightning down through the length of the blade. The darkspawn collapsed with a plume of foul smoke rising from its innards.

Bellara was winded, but did not stop. “Oh, wow— thank you, Rook,” she huffed, using the shot she had been preparing on an ogre across the field.

Rook grinned. “You can thank me by hold still juust a moment—” She came to Bellara’s side and hooked an arm around her neck. Rook kissed her on the cheek with a loud smack before releasing her.

Bellara giggled. “Oh dear. Oh boy. What are you up to?”

“Just know that I’m winning.”

Her eyebrows drew together in a look Rook was quite familiar with now. “Alright, well, please don’t get hurt!”

Rook offered her a salute as she ran off, hearing the other elf’s giggle following her.

Rook made it a good distance in towards the nucleus of the fight when a loud roar came from her right. She looked over to see an ogre, head down, ready to charge. Before it could, however, Taash came around the beast, smashing down an axe on it’s head. The creature bellowed, thrashing so hard that Taash lost their grip while the axe head remained embedded in the apparently thick-skulled darkspawn.

Looked like her next target was Taash.

The Qunari snarled in annoyance as the ogre stumbled, dazed but not downed. Rook whistled sharply as she ran up from behind. “Taash! Hup!”

Taash looked over their shoulder and, upon seeing Rook, immediately understood. They squatted in a wide stance, one arm braced on their thigh, the other bent with palm out. Without breaking stride, Rook set her boot on Taash’s leg, grunting with the effort of the step up. Taash caught her other foot in mid air and, in combined effort, launched the small elf towards the ogre.

Rook managed to grab one twisted horn, feet scrabbling for purchase against the leathery skin. It started to roar again, shaking its head to get her off, rattling Rook’s jaw. But she released her grip with one hand long enough to grab the axe handle instead and, with her foot braced, yanked it free. A trail of black blood followed, and the ogre grew slower and slower until it collapsed to the ground. Rook hopped off about a foot before impact, rolling away from the body. When she got up, Taash was already there.

“Not bad,” they said with a satisfied smirk. Rook held out the axe to them. As soon as they took hold of it, she yanked down, forcing Taash to bend. She still had to rise on her toes to kiss them on the cheek, even then.

Taash straightened, their lip curled. “Uch. Gross.”

“You’re welcome,” Rook insisted before setting off again.

Neve and Emmrich were fighting nearly back to back, which would make things easier. A quick scan told Rook that the horde had almost thinned out, and her time with it. In spite of her hurry, she approached the other two mages carefully; they were the last people she wanted to catch the wrong side of.

Thankfully, she got to them as the small horde that had tried to take on the two mages fell. She got to Neve first. “Very cool, got to go,” Rook explained hurriedly, pecking Neve on the cheek. Neve just scoffed loudly. Emmrich, who had possibly seen her running around and put together that she was playing a game, was already leaning over so the much shorter woman could kiss his cheek on the run. She heard him chuckle as she continued on.

Five down…

Theoretically, Lucanis would be easiest, since he would be least surprised by Rook kissing him. He would also be the most annoyed that she was doing something stupid, so it was a trade off. The Crow had a gathering of dead darkspawn near him and was facing down a final one. Rook came up behind, reaching around the monster to slit its throat. Lucanis blinked at her sudden appearance. “Where—”

She hooked a finger through a strap of his armor and pulled, leaning over the darkspawn to kiss him. It was only technically on the cheek, catching the very corner of his mouth as she did. When she drifted back, Lucanis was too stunned by the surprise to finish. Rook winked and turned to run.

One left. He probably expected her to forget that he was one such target as well.

Her eyes scanned the field. There was a lone hurlock left shambling. It would be dead in a minute, so that was all the time she had. She picked up speed.

Davrin, who had no more darkspawn around him, saw her coming. She saw the flash of his wicked grin before he started running in the opposite direction.

Rook growled. “I’m faster than you, you bastard!” she yelled. Though he didn’t have to outrun her forever— he just had to stall long enough and she would be duty bound to pick up griffin droppings for a week. And worse: she’d have to admit she lost.

Not on her watch.

She put her head down, running after Davrin like she would a persistent contract mark. His armor and shield weighed him down enough to make up the difference of his head start. His mistake was running parallel to a rock cropping that Rook diverted her direct path for. Just enough height, just enough leverage, if she could catch up before the rock ended…

At the very end of the short cliff side, Rook pushed off with all her might. She caught onto Davrin’s back as he made an audible grunt of exertion, catching herself around his neck with her knees at his hips. She lunged the final inches to plant a kiss on his cheek.

When he whirled around, she remained on his back, and they both witnessed the last darkspawn fall.

Rook thrust one arm in the air, cheering victoriously. Davrin flinched his head away. “Not in my ear, Rook. Come on.”

Her chant turned to smug laughter. “You really thought you were smart, didn’t you?”

“Only smarter than you. It’s a low bar to clear.” He grunted as she once more set her arms like a collar around his neck. “Can you get down now?”

“No,” she pointed in the direction they had come, her knees digging into his sides. “Bring me back to the others!”

Davrin sighed and grumbled under his breath as they returned to their starting point.

Everyone got to the center of the field around the same time, automatically forming a circle. Lucanis eyed Rook holding spider-like to Davrin’s back and sighed. “Do I even want to know?”

“The important thing to know is I won ten gold,” Rook grinned cheekily, “And if you play your cards right, and I’ll buy you something pretty.”

He tried not to smirk but Rook caught it anyway. Lucanis diverted by looking around at the others. “We officially have to start separating these two,” he grumbled.

Bellara giggled. “Oh, I like their games! I think they’re funny.”

“Until one of them gets run through,” Neve added.

“That—” Bellara considered, “—that’s true.”

Rook groaned, her head rolling back. “Yes, yes, mothers, I’m aware.”

Neve smiled, one hand on her hip. “Though if you’re going to cause trouble, the least you can do is win.”

“Thank you!”

Lucanis sighed. “Mierda…”

“Don’t blame me,” Neve gestured to Rook with a teasing smile, “You made the choice to be part of her nonsense, you know. ”

Rook peered past Davrin’s head. “Thankfully, I also have this great personality.”

“Yeah, great, now can you get off?” Davrin asked irritably, pulling at her arms like a too-tight scarf.

Before Rook could even answer, Lucanis had circled around to spot, hands up to help her down from the much taller elf. Her urge to annoy Davrin was overruled by her desire to be the focus of Lucanis’s attention; she took his hand and hopped down while the others started to disperse back towards the Eluvians from which they had come.

“You’re ridiculous,” Lucanis murmured affectionately, not for the first time.

“That sounds like the talk of a man who doesn’t want me to buy him a nice dinner.”

He chuckled, glancing up to ensure everyone was distracted. Then he quickly stole a kiss from her lips. “You missed the first time.”

Rook grinned at him, feeling warm all over. “I’ll take that correction.”

“Please don’t get yourself killed doing something stupid."

She tapped his chest. “Only because you asked nicely.” And she kissed him again, not caring who saw.

[stygian-sun-if-after-dark]

nsfw ask answered below the cut for length:

(Assuming post relationship)

Kieran: falls very quiet and bites down on their fist to muffle any sound that might betray their desire (bc embarrassing) and turns away as their hair falls to shade their brow. They just came immediately and are so so embarrassed, they’re flushing all the way down to their neck. Just…just give them a minute…they can keep going for mc…once they calm down enough…

Nihm: frozen for a fat minute staring and going scarlet all the way to their neck; has to be prompted again before they snap out of it, stumbling over their own apologies so hard it just comes out as gibberish. Now the pressure is on like it wasn’t before and they are rendered clumsy in their efforts to get back to what they were doing and can’t think straight. Eventually switches to something more intense to try to compensate, like going from using their hand to using their mouth.

Lilith/Lucien: Augh—fuck. Horny levels just shot through the roof and the blood all went straight to their head and now they’ve got a nosebleed. Ah shit shit shit—they buffed it dude. Get it together—they got mc moaning and crying for them right here, c’mon man (gn)!!!!!

Samira: that made her throb; is it even possible to desire someone this intensely? Dark glazed over stare and instead of going right back to what she was doing, now that she knows where it feels best to mc she pins mc in place and switches to something even more intense. She wants to get mc crying out even louder and turn them into a squirming, moaning mess. She won’t let mc finish until they’ve completely broken for her.

Aurynn: Er—oh, shit. Okay. Uh—hang on. It takes him a minute to recover from going from thinking something was wrong to that admission and it’s rendered him somewhat awkward and clumsy in his efforts to keep going. Somehow this is so different doing it with someone he loves. Where did all his experience just go?? It’s like he’s a virgin again and everything is so uncertain and intense and unfamiliar. Just—um. Give him a minute….

Parim: Um. 😳😖 Yup. Ok. Breathing very heavily and has to force himself to keep going but at a faster pace bc he’s gotta speed this up for his partner—it is taking all his willpower not to finish right now.

Aurora: slows down to a torturous degree. Cry harder and beg for her.

Castor: gets whiplash going from thinking something is wrong to that and is left reeling and throbbing. Give him a minute to recover and he’ll press closer to his partner and try to close all the distance and intertwine their fingers as he keeps going for them.

Ember: flushing very intensely and has to duck their head to hide even as he keeps going just like his partner wants it, only stuttering in their pace slightly. Really trying not to finish prematurely.

[dreamygirl19]

could I request park humin x girl BSF reader where she wants him to be her first kiss? <3

As much as I love angst and sad ending, I could also die for those fluffy things like ARGHH IT'S SO CUTE LOVE IT

A Quiet Promise

✮ Summary : Request above ↑

✮ Contains : Fluff, only fluff

✮ Pairing : Park Humin x bsf!reader

✮ Word Count : 598 words

You’ve known Park Humin your whole life. You grew up together, went through every awkward phase and embarrassing haircut side by side. He’s the person you call at 2 a.m. when you can’t sleep, the one who knows your coffee order better than you do, and the first one you want to share good news with. So, when the topic of first kisses came up, you knew exactly who you wanted yours to be with: him.

It’s a lazy Saturday, and you’re all crammed into Humin’s apartment. The familiar, chaotic energy of your friend group—Gotak, Sieun, and Juntae—fills the room. They’re sprawled across the floor, debating the merits of different ramen brands with the intensity of a national summit.

You find yourself on the couch, watching Humin as he leans against the kitchen counter, scrolling through his phone. A stray sunbeam catches the side of his face, illuminating the small scar above his eyebrow from a skateboard accident you both witnessed in middle school. He looks up and catches your eye, a small, easy smile forming on his lips. Your heart does a little stutter-step.

"What's up?" he asks, his voice soft, almost lost in the din of the others' argument.

You shake your head, a flush creeping up your neck. "Nothing. Just... thinking."

Later, the group disperses. It's just you and Humin left, the apartment feeling strangely quiet now. You're helping him clean up the empty snack wrappers and soda cans. He’s humming a tune you recognize from a playlist he made for you last summer. The air feels different, charged with a gentle, unspoken tension.

“Hey,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. He turns from the sink, his eyes questioning.

“I have a question for you,” you continue, your hands twisting the edge of your sweater. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest like a drum. “Don’t laugh, okay?”

He nods, his expression serious. “Never.”

Taking a deep breath, you look him straight in the eyes. “So… I was thinking about my first kiss.”

Humin’s eyebrows raise slightly, but he says nothing, just waits for you to continue.

“I’ve just… never really wanted it to be with anyone random, you know?” you explain, the words tumbling out. “And I don’t want it to be some dramatic, movie moment. I just… I want it to be with someone who feels safe. Someone who knows me. Someone like you.”

The silence that follows is deafening. You brace yourself for a laugh, a gentle refusal, or a joke to lighten the mood. But he just looks at you, his gaze soft and searching.

Finally, a small smile touches his lips. “You want me to be your first kiss?” he asks, his voice still gentle.

You nod, your cheeks burning.

He takes a step closer, closing the distance between you. He lifts a hand, his thumb gently tracing the line of your jaw. The touch sends a shiver through you.

“Okay,” he says, the word a promise. “Me too.”

And then, he leans in. The kiss is soft and hesitant at first, a brush of lips that feels both completely new and perfectly familiar. It’s not fireworks and violins; it’s quiet and sweet, full of the history you share. When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, his breath a warm puff against your skin.

“Was that… okay?” he whispers.

You can't stop the grin that spreads across your face. “More than okay,” you reply. You pull back just enough to look at him, your hands now resting on his chest. “It was perfect.”

꩜ Masterlist

꩜ One shots requests opened

[dropslemon]

                              it      prickles      at      the      base      of      his      neck,      the      high-pitched      sound      of      her      voice      echoing      down      the      hallway.      it's      got      him      completely      frozen      in      place,      his      back      still      facing      her      as      he      process      exactly      what      the      hell      she      was      saying.      couldn't      even      compute      that      she'd      followed      him      here      ⸻      blinking      rapidly      as      if      that      would      somehow      make      the      code      in      his      head      make      sense      of      it.      had      a      quickened      pace      on      his      way      here,      undoubtedly,      needed      a      breather      from      ...      well,      her.      could      only      save      face      for      so      long.      but      the      fact      that      she'd      caught      up      to      him,      that      quickly,      &      unbeknownst      to      him,      it      has      him      unable      to      turn      around      and      face      her      for      an      embarrassingly      long      few      minutes.      but      when      he      does      turn      around      to      meet      her      ⸻      jaw      is      locked,      clenched      ungodly      tight,      the      expression      on      his      face      unreadable.      hell,      he      doesn't      even      know      how      to      feel,      or      how      to      take      each      word      she      shot      directly      at      him.      with      absolute,      fucking      sniper,      precision.      how      could      he      expect      anything      less?      he'll      take      a      deep      breath,      evident      in      the      way      chest      rises      &      falls      drastically,      last minute      attempts      in      gaining      some      sort      of      semblance      of      composure      here.      (      he's      not      sure      he's      got      it,      anymore.      but      he      doesn't      really      care.      )

❝      do      you      really      wanna      go      there,      xeriz?      right      now?      here,      of      all      places?      ❞      asks      genuinely,      'cause      he's      got      a      vault      of      unspoken      sentiments      put      aside      specially      for      her.      delving      into      how      she      treated      him,      &      she      had      the      audacity      to      stand      there      and      ask      him      what      his      problem      was with      her?      it      has      him      laughing,      unable      to      barricade      behind      pointed      teeth,      but      it's      dry      &      humorless,      before      he's      shaking      his      head.      almost      like      he      couldn't      believe      his      own      ears,      &      honestly?      he      couldn't.      takes      a      step      closer      ...      and      then      another,      and      another.      until      he's      stood      obnoxiously      close,      invading      her      personal      space      like      he      had      so      many      other      times      before,      but      this      time      was      different.      the      air      surrounding      them      was      thick      with      animosity,      spitefulness,      &      a      rage      he      seemed      to      only      be      capable      of      when      it      came      to      her.      still,      he      keeps      countenance      cool      apart      from      occasional      tick      of      the      jaw,      &      he      knows      she      could      tell that      she'd      gotten      to      him.      ❝      what's      my      problem      with      you?      my      problem      is      you.      ❞      seethes      out      between      grating      teeth,      is      half-surprised      they      haven't      cracked      underneath      the      pressure.      ❝      ...      and      maybe      i'm      trying      to      make      you      not      my      problem,      anymore.      hm?      and      here      you      are!      i      can't      even      piss      in      peace.      ❞      arms      splayed      outward,      as      if      to      showcase      just      exactly      where      the      pair      had      found      themselves.      hues      narrow,      like      he's      challenging      her,      but      only      slightly.      ❝      i      think      the      real      question      here,      is      ⸻      what      the      fuck      is      your      problem      with      me?      or      does      it      just      make      you      hate      yourself      that      badly, that you have to be a bitch all of the time,      that      after      everything,      you      still      want      me?      you      can't      stand      it,      can      you?      ❞

˖       ᝰ      ׁ      .          had     never     before     known     a     man     capable     of     neutralizing     her     entire     personality     with     a     single     ,     well     -     timed     eyeroll     .     and     yet     ,     here     she     was     :     leftovers     of     carefully     prepped     barbs     congealing     in     her     mouth     ,     nowhere     to     spit     them     out     .     the     swill     of     liquor     burned     over     tongue     ,     shallow     comfort     in     the     face     of     near     -     cosmic     humiliation     .     xeriz     was     forced     to     stand     there     ,     knuckles     pressed     white     against     the     glass     .     observing     her     own     reflection     in     the     copper     bar     rail     .     watching     as     the     disappointment     spread     across     her     mouth     and     darkened     her     eyes     .     how     did     he     do     that     shit     so     effortlessly     ?     always     slipping     the     knife     in     with     a     joke     ,     always     one     step     ahead     in     the     arms     race     of     emotional     warfare     .     loser     —     she     was     a     fucking     loser     ,     wasn't     she     ?     watched     tae's     back     recede     through     the     crowd     ,     and     for     a     moment     considered     hurling     her     drink     at     it     .     but     that     would     only     feed     the     mythos     he'd     built     around     her     —     unhinged     ,     desperate     ,     frothing     at     the     corners     with     need     .     and     she     wasn't     desperate     .     she     was     just     out     of     counterattacks     .     for     a     few     seconds     ,     she     stood     still     .     cataloguing     the     way     palms     prickled     and     jaw     twitched     like     a     muscle     spasm     .     the     cartoonish     ache     that     pooled     beneath     her     gut     and     sat     there     .     she     wasn’t     going     to     follow     .     obviously     .     there     was     nothing     more     basic     and     pathetically     textbook     than     tailing     your     ex     into     the     bathroom     .

but     after     approximately     four     decades     compressed     into     a     single     minute     of     self     -     immolating     bar     analysis     ,     she     found     herself     moving     .     not     consciously     .     feet     mapped     the     route     for     her     —     ghosting     through     the     flesh     parade     of     selfie     sticks     and     ribbed     bodycons     .     by     the     time     she     realized     ,     the     door     was     swinging     shut     behind     them     .     it     wasn’t     a     conscious     decision     .     she     told     herself     she     was     going     this     way     because     the     restroom     was     the     only     sane     option     .     or     at     least     the     only     exit     that     wouldn’t     result     in     social     suicide     .     the     hallway     was     glossier     ,     quieter     than     the     main     drag     and     she     could     hear     her     own     footfalls     that     clicked     and     echoed     in     sync     with     his     .     she     could     have     backed     out     .     in     fact     ,     she     should     have     .     but     her     knees     locked     into     position     ,     unwilling     to     concede     any     retreat     .     “     what     the     hell     is     wrong     with     you     ?     ”     she     called     after     him     ,     voice     slicing     through     the     hall     .     the     echo     was     harsh     ,     needy     ,     everything     she     hated     about     herself     …     and     him     …     and     this     stupid     cycle     .     xeriz     was     supposed     to     be     ice     ,     but     instead     she     was     just     …     brittle     .     “     you     genuinely     get     off     on     making     me     lose     my     shit     ,     don’t     you     ?     ”     mouth     had     already     gone     off     -     script     ,     bypassed     the     fail     -     safes     ,     and     was     now     just     airing     out     the     raw     wires     .     “     you     can’t     even     let     me     have     one     night     without     making     me     want     to     drive     a     fork     into     your     skull     .     ”     the     word     vomit     slips     out     before     she     could     cage     it     .     “     jesus     ,     what     the     fuck     is     your     problem     with     me     ?     ”

[mooningningg]

notes, this was a lovely request from a anon.

★ Roommate!Sukuna brings another girl home.

You barely got past the first bite of your noodles when the front door opened with a loud creak.

Then: a giggle. Shrill. Bubbly. Way too excited for a weeknight.

You didn’t even have to look. You knew.

Sukuna’s voice followed, deep and amused, laced with that fake charm he only ever used when he wanted something easy.

“Yeah, yeah. Shoes off,” he muttered, and you could already picture the way he was barely holding the door open for her, head tilted with boredom. “Unless you wanna wipe out on my floor.”

Another laugh. You rolled your eyes.

Of course.

Of fucking course he’d bring a girl home tonight. Not even two days after he ruined your date. The guy didn’t even make it to the couch before Sukuna opened the door shirtless and said, “Nah.”

And now this?

You stayed quiet, eyes on the TV, bowl in your lap. You didn’t even flinch when they walked in, but you could feel it — that low, smug heat on the side of your face as Sukuna made sure you saw him.

He was shirtless. Naturally. Sweatpants slung low. One arm slung lazily across her waist like she was some prize he barely cared to carry.

You glanced up.

His eyes were already on you.

And when your gaze met his — narrowed, unimpressed — he didn’t look away. He just smirked.

“Don’t wait up, princess,” he said, voice smooth and low, tugging the girl toward the hallway.

That did it.

You watched them disappear around the corner, listened to the click of his bedroom door shutting, and then very calmly stood up.

You grabbed your phone.

Connected to the Bluetooth speaker in his room.

And you played the most annoying thing you could think of.

“Baby Shark.”

At full volume.

The walls shook.

It took five seconds. Maybe ten.

Then—

SLAM.

The door burst open so hard it rattled the hallway mirror.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Sukuna growled, appearing shirtless and already pissed, his hair half-tousled and chest rising with visible irritation.

You didn’t even pretend to look innocent. You were already leaning against the counter, sipping from a juice box like it was wine.

“I’m sorry,” you said flatly, “do you hear music? That’s weird.”

He stormed toward you, jaw tight, hands flexing. “You’re really doing this shit again?”

You shrugged, nonchalant. “Just trying to enjoy my night. Hope I’m not interrupting.”

He stopped right in front of you. Close. Annoyingly so. Your face tilted up slightly to meet his glare.

“You’re jealous,” he accused, voice low and dangerous.

You scoffed. “Of that girl? With the spray tan and two brain cells between her and her crop top?”

“She’s hot.”

“She’s a walking vape ad.”

He leaned in, teeth gritting. “You’ve got five seconds to stop acting like a brat—”

“Or what?” you shot back. “You’ll throw me out too?”

He stared at you. His mouth twitched. His hand curled at his side.

Then, without warning, he turned sharply on his heel and stalked back down the hallway.

You blinked.

Then froze.

Inside his room, muffled but still clear, you heard it:

“Put your shoes on.”

There was a pause. You could hear the girl rustling around, confused.

“Wait—what? Why?”

“I’m taking you home.”

Another pause. “Did I do something?”

“No,” Sukuna snapped. “She did.”

A beat of silence.

And then hurried steps.

You were still standing near the counter when the girl reappeared, awkwardly pulling on one boot while holding her purse under her arm. She didn’t say anything. Didn’t look at you. Just kept her eyes down, humiliated.

Sukuna followed behind her, casually cracking his neck, jaw still tight like he was clenching back everything he wanted to say.

He opened the door.

She slipped out without a goodbye.

He didn’t wait for her to reach the steps. Just slammed the door shut behind her, hard enough to make the walls shake.

Then silence.

He didn’t look at you right away. Just stood there, back to you, hands still balled at his sides.

You stared. Heat crawled down your spine. You swallowed.

He turned slowly.

And when his eyes met yours — low, heavy, still sharp — he finally said it:

“You knew she wasn’t staying.”

His voice was calm. Way too calm. That calm that came before the storm with him — tight control stretched thin.

You didn’t reply.

He walked toward you. No rush. Just long, heavy steps across the wooden floor. You stayed where you were, back against the counter, arms crossed over your chest.

“You think I didn’t know what you were doing?” he asked, voice thick. “Cutting the Wi-Fi? Blasting that shit through my speaker? Dropping a whole-ass jar outside my door like a raccoon broke in?”

You rolled your eyes. “Maybe next time, don’t bring someone home like you didn’t ruin my date two nights ago.”

He stopped right in front of you again. Closer now.

“You think that little accountant was gonna survive five minutes with you?”

You blinked. “What the hell does that mean?”

He didn’t answer. His chest was rising and falling. Eyes flicking between yours like he wanted to say something, but didn’t trust himself to say it out loud.

Then, low and rough:

“You don’t bring guys home anymore.”

It wasn’t a question. It was an accusation. A territorial claim dressed in jealousy.

“And you don’t get to bring girls here and act like I won’t say shit about it,” you shot back.

He tilted his head.

“I didn’t fuck her.”

You blinked. “I didn’t ask—”

“She sat on my bed and I felt sick.”

You froze.

“She touched your hoodie,” he muttered, voice quiet, like it burned his throat to admit it. “It’s still on my bed.”

Your breath caught.

He leaned in, close enough to feel the warmth off his bare skin.

“She’s not you,” he said.

Then he walked away.

And left you speechless.

Taglist, @humeysaga.

[dollyswishingwell]

i need your talented hands to write about reader being needy, clingy, and crybaby with lads husbands who always keep their girl in their lap pampering her, bestie i’m ovulating i need this plz

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ His Crybaby

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ fluff, fem reader who cries for no reason. indulgent men who adores their wife. this anon is thinking on the same wavelength as me so im gonna name you star anon. come back to me pookie :p

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ They adore their crybaby wife, after all, they're the ones who spoiled you enough to be this comfortable.

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The morning sun streamed lazily through the wide windows of your beachside home, reflecting soft blues and silvers across the marble kitchen floor. You sat curled in Rafayel’s lap, your rightful throne, wrapped in one of his oversized white shirts, legs thrown over his and arms tucked to your chest, sniffling like the world had ended.

And to be fair, to you, it sort of had.

“They’re round, Raffy,” you whimpered into his chest, voice trembling with betrayal. “You always make them heart-shaped. Always…”

Rafayel blinked slowly, a half-bitten scone in one hand, his other palm gently stroking your lower back. His long lashes fluttered over his dual-colored eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching into an amused smile.

“I was in a rush,” he offered lightly, tone bordering on amused and indulgent. “Shell delivery came early. I had to check for the right pigment.”

You glared up at him with teary eyes, bottom lip trembling. “But you forgot.”

He set the scone down and wrapped both arms around you, nuzzling your hair with a sigh. “I didn’t forget, pretty girl. I just… momentarily neglected aesthetics.” A pause. “Which I see was a grave crime.”

You hiccuped. “You never do round ones. Even when I was mad at you that one time, you still made them heart-shaped.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and fond. “That’s because even when you’re mad at me, you still eat them with those pouty cheeks and kiss me after.”

You turned your face into his neck, voice muffled and pathetic. “But they’re not heart-shaped today, so now everything feels wrong. I was gonna take a picture for my little breakfast diary…”

“Ah.” He tilted his head, brushing his lips over your temple, then lower, along your cheek where a tear had slipped down. “My girl’s so delicate today. You’re like a little seashell that got smudged with morning sadness.”

You sniffled.

Then Rafayel shifted, standing up smoothly with you in his arms, still cradled like a sobbing princess.

“I’m redoing them.”

Your head shot up. “Really?”

“Mhm. You think I won’t shape twenty scones by hand for my favorite spoiled crybaby?” he teased, walking you to the counter like you weighed nothing, setting you down on the stool just beside the mixing bowls. “You’re the only person I even tolerate. If you want heart-shaped, you get heart-shaped.”

You tried to pout again, but his words melted you too quickly.

He was already back at the counter, sleeves pushed up, a tiny ponytail tied loosely with a ribbon you’d left lying around. He didn’t ask for help. Just hummed to himself as he redid the dough from scratch, tossing glances your way every few moments to make sure you were watching.

You sat with your chin in your hands, watching him move, elegant, annoyed at the flour in his rings, muttering about how the heart mold wasn’t symmetrical enough.

You sighed happily. “Raffy?”

“Yes, cutie?”

“…Can I eat the raw dough?”

He turned, expression deadpan. “Will it stop the tears?”

You nodded.

He handed you a pinch. “Then yes, absolutely. Take the whole bowl if you want. I’ll kiss you better if you get a stomach ache.”

Once the new batch came out, perfectly heart-shaped this time, Rafayel pulled you back into his lap, dusted icing sugar from your nose with a dramatic sigh, and whispered smugly against your cheek:

“My wife throws tantrums over pastries. I married a princess.”

You beamed, mouth full of warm scone.

And he kissed you anyway.

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

You were sitting sideways in Zayne’s lap, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, sniffing dramatically into the collar of his long coat. His hand rested calmly on your thigh, the other flipping through the patient report he had been trying to review before you burst into his home office in tears.

He hadn’t even flinched when you flung yourself into his lap like it was your natural place, because it was.

Now, you were sobbing softly into his shirt.

“I just wanted the kitty sticker on my water bottle,” you hiccuped. “The pink one. And now I can’t find it anywhere, and it’s just… everything’s ruined.”

Zayne blinked once. Slowly.

“…You’re crying,” he said, tone flat, “over a sticker.”

“It was a limited edition one,” you wailed louder, curling further into him like a miserable kitten. “The sparkly holographic one from the art market you said was overpriced but still bought for me anyway—”

“Yes,” he interrupted mildly, adjusting his glasses with one finger. “That sticker.”

A beat.

“Did you check the back of your phone case?”

You paused. Then went still.

“…Oh.”

You twisted slightly, reached back, peeled it off the case, and stared at it. Whole. Unharmed.

You glanced back at him sheepishly. “Oops…”

Zayne exhaled quietly through his nose, resting his forehead against yours like he was centering himself spiritually. “You’ve cried on four of my shirts this week,” he muttered.

“It was five,” you corrected meekly.

He looked at you, hazel-green eyes dry and unimpressed. “…Of course it was.”

You clung tighter to him. “I’m sorryyy. I just get so emotional sometimes and, and you’re warm and I needed to be held and I thought it was gone forever, and now I feel dumb and—”

“Enough.” His voice cut through your spiral with practiced ease. His thumb slid along your cheek, catching a fresh tear. “You’re not dumb. You’re dramatic. There’s a difference.”

You blinked up at him.

He continued with dry precision: “A dumb woman wouldn’t be able to weaponize her tears so efficiently. You cried, and I halted a coronary consult.”

You blinked again. “…Did you really?”

“I couldn’t hear over the sobbing,” he said, flat as ever. “And I wasn’t about to drag my wife out of my lap when her world was ending over foil cat stickers.”

You hid your face in his chest again, muffling a helpless giggle. “I’m sorry…”

“No, you’re not.”

“…No, I’m not.”

He hummed. “Didn’t think so.”

Then, quietly, Zayne placed the file on the table beside him and adjusted his grip on you, hand under your thighs, the other firm at your back.

His voice dropped, quieter, softer.

“Do you want me to find you more of those stickers?”

You nodded.

“I’ll message the seller.”

You peeked up at him. “Even if it’s overpriced again?”

He leaned down and pressed a slow kiss to your forehead.

“I’m a surgeon. I can afford your sticker addiction.”

You grinned through drying tears. “You love me.”

Zayne looked back down at you, mouth twitching at the corners. “Tragically.”

That evening, he returned home from work with three new sticker packs.

When you tried to cry again, this time because one was “too cute to ever use”, Zayne simply sat down, pulled you back into his lap, and muttered against your temple, “You’re banned from Etsy.”

You didn’t listen.

And he didn’t mind.

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

The penthouse was quiet when Xavier padded in, soft footfalls echoing on polished floors. His hair was tousled from sleep, even though it was nearly evening, and he was still dressed in his off-duty clothes: oversized white sweater, soft grey pants, and socks that didn’t match. One blue. One purple. He didn’t notice.

He found you where he always did.

Curled up on the sunken couch, surrounded by plush pillows and blankets he didn’t remember buying, tissues scattered like a fallen army.

You looked up with teary eyes, bottom lip wobbling.

He blinked. “Are you in pain?”

You wailed.

Xavier didn’t flinch. He simply crossed the living room, lifted you like you weighed nothing, and settled down with you in his lap, your permanent seat, apparently. He tucked the blanket around you both automatically.

His tone was calm. “Did something hurt you?”

You nodded into his chest.

He blinked again, blue eyes soft. “Who do I eliminate?”

You sniffled. “You.”

There was a pause. A long, quiet one.

“…Me?”

“You ate the last sakura mochi ice cream. Mine. The one I’d been saving for a bad day.” You looked up at him with wet lashes and righteous heartbreak. “And now I’m having a bad day and it’s not there.”

Xavier blinked slowly again, as if replaying the event in his mind. “I didn’t know it was yours.”

“It was in the back corner of the freezer behind the emergency dumplings!” you snapped. ���You know that means it’s mine!”

“Oh,” he said flatly, as if you’d just told him water was wet. “I thought you were hiding it from ants.”

“There aren’t ants in the freezer, Xavier.”

He tilted his head. “Are you sure?”

You sobbed again. “I just wanted something sweet and cold after I did so many chores and folded your weird space socks and cleaned up after that dumb pigeon that keeps coming to our balcony and now there’s nothing left.”

You buried your face into his chest.

“Nothing but betrayal.”

Xavier wrapped his arms around you gently. “I didn’t mean to betray you.”

“You did.”

He nodded once, solemn. “Then I will bear the punishment.”

You sniffed again, looking up with suspicious eyes. “What’s the punishment?”

“Letting you cry on me for as long as you want.”

“…That’s not a punishment.”

“I know,” he said softly, tucking your head under his chin. “But you seem to like it.”

You sniffled, cheeks heating up.

A silence fell again, this one softer.

“Do you want me to go back to the market?” he asked suddenly, voice muffled against your hair.

You blinked. “It’s like a two-hour round trip—”

He was already standing, carrying you with him.

“I will go,” he said firmly. “You must stay. Crying wives should not be on trams.”

“…You’re just saying that because I fell asleep on one once and missed the stop.”

“You drooled on the pole,” he said, expression neutral. “The conductor filed a complaint.”

You clung tighter. “but take me with you.”

“No.”

“Xaaaaviiiieeer.”

“No,” he said again, voice soft but resolute. “You’ll fall asleep again and cry in public and then I’ll have to destroy someone for looking at you too long.”

You paused. “…Fair.”

He sat back down with you. “I will get the ice cream. You will stay here. I will return in ninety-seven minutes. You may cry until then.”

You blinked up at him, touched.

“You love me.”

He looked down at you like you hung the moon.

“I have risked my life multiple times,” he murmured, kissing your temple, “but I fear nothing as much as my pretty wife crying over desserts.”

When he returned, you were asleep in his sweater on the couch with a new box of tissues, the balcony pigeon perched smugly nearby.

Xavier placed the mochi ice cream in your lap, kissed your forehead, and whispered:

“Victory.”

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

The safehouse was too quiet.

Sylus knew it the moment he stepped out of his weaponary room and into the velvet-draped hallways. No spoiled chatter echoing through the corridors. No unnecessary purchases being flaunted in his direction. No soft steps scampering down the stairs with a “look what I ordered!”

Silence, in your world, was always suspicious.

He followed the soft sound of sniffling like a predator tracking prey, though the scent of vanilla, luxury skincare, and fresh credit card ink made it painfully obvious where you were.

His smug smirk sharpened the second he entered the lounge.

There you were. Curled on one of the silk chaises, the biggest one of course, wrapped in a fluffy blanket and surrounded by open boxes, designer bags, glittering heels, two jewelry cases, and a luxury drone still hovering in standby.

And you were sobbing. Sobbing over…

He narrowed his glowing eye slightly.

“…Lipstick?”

You turned, bottom lip trembling, eyes glassy and wet. “It’s not rose gold! It’s just shimmery salmon, they lied, Sy!”

He blinked. “And for this,” he murmured, voice lilting, “you’ve called for the end of the world?”

You wailed louder. “It doesn’t match my nails! Or the heels I picked for brunch tomorrow. You said you liked the brunch outfit, you lied to me too!”

He bit back a smirk. “I said I liked the outfit, my kitty. I never said your shoes matched the lipstick.”

You let out a dramatic gasp and flopped back like you’d faint.

He let you. Indulged in it.

He stepped closer, letting his coat slide off one shoulder as he dropped to sit on the edge of your fainting couch. You peeked at him through your fingers.

“I’m being so tragic today,” you whimpered.

Sylus’s gloved hand reached down, tucking your hair behind your ear, a slow curl to his lips.

“You’re being adorable.”

You blinked up. “Even when I cried at the drone for not having better taste?”

“You yell at drones. You sob over luxury packaging. You throw a tantrum when your brunch schedule is moved by ten minutes.” His voice lowered, smug and possessive. “You are the perfect little disaster. And all mine.”

You whined softly and reached for him.

He pulled you into his lap without hesitation, one arm hooking under your knees, the other curling behind your back. You immediately wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face in his collarbone.

“You’re mean,” you mumbled. “You think I’m dumb.”

“I think you’re delightful,” he corrected. “Painfully high maintenance. Obnoxiously bratty. But delightful.”

You hiccuped. “Do you actually like it when I cry?”

Sylus chuckled, low and pleased, the sound curling against your ear like velvet.

“I like anything that makes you run to me. Crying, shopping, scheming, screaming, doesn’t matter.” He nuzzled your cheek, a slow drag of his nose down your tear-stained skin. “You always end up in my lap either way.”

You sniffled again.

“…Can I buy a different rose gold lipstick?”

Sylus smirked against your cheek. “Buy thirty.”

“Okay,” you said immediately, perking up. “I’ll get every brand.”

“Mm.” He pressed a kiss to your jaw. “And while you do that, I’ll call your stylist. You’ll need new shoes to match all thirty.”

You gasped. “You do love me!”

He laughed, quiet, but genuinely. “You’re the only creature who could make me sit through a crying fit over cosmetics and still want to kiss the tears off your cheeks.”

You beamed, messy and smug and still a little wet-faced, clinging to him tighter.

Sylus leaned back on the chaise with you sprawled across his chest, lazy and possessive as ever.

“I’m going to destroy that brand,” he added offhandedly.

You blinked up. “Wait, what?”

He tilted his head, red eyes gleaming faintly. “They lied to my princess.”

“…Sy.”

“You cried.”

“You don’t need to destroy them—”

“You cried.”

The lipstick brand posted a mysterious apology the next day.

You got a PR box with actual rose gold lipsticks inside. Thirty of them.

And Sylus?

He smirked, sipped his wine, and kept your shopping drone “accidentally” hacked so it only displayed items in your preferred colors.

All of them were now tagged as princess-coded.

Because that’s exactly what you were.

And he wouldn’t let the world forget it.

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

Caleb had faced lots of things.

He’d commanded entire fleets, rewritten gravity, walked through explosions with only one glove smudged.

But nothing, nothing, prepared him for this.

You were crying.

Again.

In the middle of your gilded, bedroom in Skyhaven, surrounded by seventeen fluffy, high-end imported petticoats, with tears in your big wet eyes and your lower lip sticking out like a weaponized pout.

“It’s not puffy enough!” you sobbed, holding up the offending dress like it had personally betrayed you. “I said I wanted maximum puff, Caleb! You promised!”

He blinked from where he stood in full Farspace uniform, his cap still tucked under one arm, black boots gleaming, gloves unbuttoned. He had just gotten home.

And now you were sniffling and stomping your foot, your dainty little slippers slapping against the mirrored floor.

“Pipsqueak,” he started softly, trying not to laugh. “Baby. You have twelve custom princess dresses. They literally fly when you twirl—”

“But they don’t float like clouds!” you wailed. “I want the kind that make a sound when I walk. Like fwah-fwah-fwah!” You stomped again for emphasis. “This one just rustles!”

He couldn’t help it—his lips twitched.

You caught it. “Are you laughing at me?!”

Caleb crossed the room in two strides, lifting you effortlessly into his arms before you could storm away again. You squeaked, clutching his neck, your pout deepening.

“No,” he murmured, kissing your nose. “Never. You know I’d bark if you told me to. Hell, I’d jump off Skyhaven if you said it made your dresses poofier.”

You hiccuped mid-sniffle.

“You mean it?'

Caleb sat down on the edge of your pink chaise, pulling you into his lap so your skirts pooled around both of you.

“I literally rewired the AI in this house cause you said they weren't treating you gently enough. You think I wouldn’t raze the entire fashion industry if it meant you’d stop crying over dress volume?”

You whined and buried your face in his shoulder.

He rocked you gently. “There we go. Let it out. Cry about the bad dress, baby.”

You sniffled again. “I had a whole tea party outfit planned. Now what will the other official's wives say?”

Caleb growled softly under his breath. “They’ll say whatever I tell them to say, or I’ll dump them into deep space.”

You giggled wetly. “You can’t just throw skyhaven's high society ladies out, Caleb.”

“I can do anything,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Especially for you.”

“…Even puffier dresses?”

“I’ll fund a new brand that only makes them.”

You blinked up at him, tears drying fast. “You’d do that for me?”

He nodded solemnly. “I’ll call it... Princess Puff. Only you can buy from them.”

You squealed and kissed him messily on the cheek, smearing your lip gloss. “You’re my favorite boy.”

Caleb, hopeless, clutched you tighter and leaned back on the chaise, letting your frilly skirts bury him like a hero in a fairy tale.

“You’ve always been my favorite girl,” he murmured. “Even when you were a little crybaby who used to throw tantrums over sticker books.”

“I was a sensitive artist,” you huffed.

“You were a brat,” he teased, grinning. “My brat.”

You buried your face in his chest again, the fit of your next meltdown already forgotten.

And Caleb? He didn’t care if Fleet Command pinged his tablet. If the Bureau directors demanded his return.

Right now, his only mission was holding his precious pipsqueak close, wrapped in layers of unpuffy skirts and dramatic demands, and planning a fleet raid on every designer who had ever disappointed her.

Because your tears were sacred.

And Caleb, Farspace Colonel or not, was always going to roll over and play knight for his princess.

Every single time.

[sadiesdoll]

GRIND ‘TIL YOU CRY.

contains: sevika x virgin!reader, strap-on usage, size kink, dumbification, dacryphilia, clit play, finger sucking, cum play, praise kink, gentle dom!sevika, cockdrunk!reader, neck biting (no blood), light spanking, orgasm denial, aftercare

enjoy ♡

You were already straddling her hips when the nerves hit you.

Your palms rested lightly on Sevika's chest, her warm brown skin flushed gold in the lamp glow, the sheets under your knees soft and rumpled. 

You were naked—completely naked—for the first time in front of her, and the only thing separating you from her strap was your own hesitation.

"Hey." Her voice was rough, quiet, but steady. One hand stayed on your waist, thumb brushing lazy circles just under your ribs. "You okay?"

You nodded quickly—too quickly. "Yeah. I just... I don't usually—uh, I mean, I've never-" You laughed breathlessly, embarrassed.

"I've only ever touched myself."

Sevika sat up a little, her good arm sliding around your back to support you. Her face softened.

"You wanna stop?"

"No." Your voice cracked. "I want this. I want you. I'm just... I don't know what I'm doing."

A beat. Then her lips curled into the tiniest, cockiest smirk. "Don't worry, baby. I do."

You bit your lip as heat shot between your thighs. That voice alone could ruin you.

She leaned forward, kissing your collarbone—slow, open-mouthed, warm. Her tongue flicked against your skin. 

"We'll go slow. I'm not gonna rush you. You just move how you need to. I'll be right here."

You nodded again, this time slower, more sure. Her strap pressed up under you—thick, firm, intimidating—but god, you were wet. Soaked, actually. You could feel it dripping down your thighs already.

Sevika noticed. She always noticed.

"You're so fuckin' wet, sweetheart," she murmured, sliding her hand between your legs to guide the strap. "All that from just thinking about it, huh?"

You whimpered, barely able to meet her eyes. Her gaze pinned you down anyway.

"You been touching yourself to this? Wishing it was me?"

You nodded. "Y-Yeah. So many times."

She groaned low. "Fuck. You’re adorable."

You braced your hands on her shoulders and finally—finally—started to lower yourself down. The head of the strap nudged your entrance, and you gasped, thighs trembling.

"Easy, sweetheart. Just a little at a time." She kissed your neck, sucking gently—just enough to leave a mark. "You're so tight, baby. Feels like your pussy's never letting go."

You shuddered as you sank down, inch by inch, breathing hard. It was so much. So full.

Not painful, just overwhelming. Sevika's hands gripped your waist to steady you, grounding you with every low, patient whisper.

When you bottomed out, your nails dug into her shoulders. You were panting.

"You okay?"

"Y-Yeah," you whimpered. "It's so—mmngh—“

“None of that whimpering. Say it. Use your words, princess.”

“It’s so—full, Sev.”

"I know, baby. You're doing so good. Look at you."

You started to move. Slowly. Rocking your hips in tiny circles, easing yourself into the stretch. The friction lit something up inside you—something deeper than your fingers ever reached.

And then, without warning, your hips jerked forward a little too fast. You gasped. It hit just right. Right on that aching, swollen spot inside you.

"Oh my god—" you moaned.

Sevika chuckled darkly. "There she is."

You started moving again. A little faster. A little rougher. The way it rubbed against your clit every time you sank down made your whole body twitch.

It felt too good. Too much. You'd been so pent up, so desperate for something more than your own hands—and now you had it.

Her. This. 

The drag of her strap inside you, the warmth of her skin, her voice in your ear saying, "Fuck, look at you, baby. You're addicted already."

You were. It showed.

You were a mess—whining, grinding, moaning into her mouth. You grabbed her hand, sucked her fingers into your mouth without thinking. 

Sevika froze for a second, then let out the filthiest growl.

"God damn, you're really gone, huh?"

You drooled a little on her fingers. Couldn't help it.

She tilted her head, watching your blissed-out face with a lazy, hungry grin.

"Sweetheart... you're drooling."

You looked down, dazed, saliva slipping past your lip while your hips kept moving. You whimpered around her fingers.

"Fucking adorable," she muttered. "You're cockdrunk already, and I haven't even fucked you yet."

She kissed you hard, biting your bottom lip.

You moaned louder, needy and mindless now. You felt her reach between your legs again, rubbing slow circles on your clit while you kept grinding—grinding like your life depended on it.

"Don't cum yet," she warned. "Not yet. I wanna see you lose it first."

And you would. You were. A drooling, clenching, wet fucking mess—and Sevika wasn't done with you yet.

You didn't even realize how loud you were until Sevika growled, "You hear yourself, baby?"

Your hips were moving faster now, grinding down on her strap like it was the only thing keeping you alive. Your soaked pussy squelched with every roll of your hips, and your breathy moans came out high and broken and endless.

"I—fuck—I can't stop," you whimpered.

Sevika's fingers moved back to your clit—slow, torturously slow—and circled it while you ground down.

"You're so fucking sensitive." Her voice was wrecked, almost shaky. "Didn't know it'd feel this good, hm?"

You shook your head frantically. "No-I mean yes—I mean I can't—please-"

And then she spanked you.

It wasn't hard—just a quick, firm slap to your ass. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to make you jerk and moan and clench so tight around her strap that she had to bite back a groan.

"Yeah?" she rasped. "You like that, sweetheart?"

You nodded so fast it made your head spin.

"Yes—Sevika—I like everything—please, please-"

She hissed through her teeth. Her hand stayed on your ass, squeezing tight, grounding you. Her fingers never stopped circling your clit—slick and slow, not giving you enough, teasing you right to the edge.

Your thighs were trembling. Your belly was tight. Your breath was all over the place.

"I'm close," you whimpered. "I'm—I'm gonna—“

But Sevika stopped.

You sobbed.

"Shh." Her voice was low, gentle, but firm.

"Not yet. Not like this."

You blinked, dazed, drool still clinging to your lip. "Wha...?"

"I want your first time cumming on my strap to be perfect, baby," she murmured. "I want you to remember it. I want it to stay on your mind forever. So not yet. Not until I really give it to you."

Your pussy clenched again. Your whole body shook.

Sevika looked up at you—and something changed in her expression.

You were dazed, panting, spit-slick around the mouth, grinding down like you were in a trance. You were a fucking vision.

And the second she saw the way your lip quivered when she took her fingers off your clit, something snapped.

"Jesus fucking Christ," she growled.

She surged up and bit your neck.

"Ah—!" you gasped, the cutest, neediest little cry slipping out as your body arched.

"S-Sevika—!"

She didn't draw blood. Just sank her teeth in enough to make you feel it. Enough to make you moan and cling to her harder.

Her hands gripped your ass like she was holding herself back from flipping you over and fucking you into next week.

"You feel too good," she whined against your throat. "You're driving me fuckin' crazy, baby—You're so perfect."

You whimpered, grinding harder, your pussy slick and messy against her strap.

She kissed the spot she'd bitten—then her tongue soothed it, slow and loving.

"Still with me?" she whispered.

You nodded, tears in your eyes now.

"Mhm..."

"Good girl." She cupped your face with her good hand. "Just keep going. Ride it slow. I'll get you there. But I want you cockdrunk and shaking by the time I let you cum."

You moaned helplessly.

Her fingers slid down again, teasing your clit while you moved.

"I love how sweet you sound when you get desperate," she muttered. "You sound like you need it so bad."

"I do," you cried. "I need it so bad—please—please—“

"You drooled all over my hand," she teased.

"What, baby? My cock too good?"

You nodded, crying and grinding. "Too good. So good. I can't—I can't think—“

"You don't need to think, sweetheart." Her voice dropped low. "Just fuck yourself dumb on my strap. I'll take care of you."

You were gone.

Absolutely out of your mind—drooling, whimpering, and still rocking your hips like Sevika's strap was the only thing keeping your body alive.

Your thighs were trembling. Your hands clung to her shoulders, nails leaving faint little crescent marks in her skin. And your mouth—god, your mouth was open and leaking spit, little strings of it slipping down your chin while you babbled incoherent little moans.

"Look at you," Sevika murmured, brushing her fingers over your tear-damp cheeks.

"You're drooling and cryin' on my cock, honey."

You whimpered, a fresh wave of tears prickling your eyes, even as you kept grinding.

"Is it that good?" she asked, smiling crookedly. "So good it's makin' you cry?"

You nodded so fast it made you dizzy. "Y-Yes—I c-can't—I wanna cum—p-please-"

Your voice cracked on the last word, and the second it did, you sobbed.

Your face crumpled. Your whole body jerked like you couldn't take it anymore. And Sevika immediately pulled you down into her chest, shushing you as she cupped your pussy with her palm—warm, strong, steady.

"Hey, hey. I got you," she cooed. "You're okay. Just feelin' too much, huh?"

You nodded, sniffling. "I need it—need it s'bad..."

"Yeah, I know you do." Her thumb circled your clit so slow you almost cried harder.

"You've been so good, baby. So fuckin' perfect. I'm gonna give it to you. I promise."

"Please," you whispered, tears dripping from your chin. "I wanna cum—I need to— please, Sevika-"

And then she fucked up into you.

Her hips lifted. Her grip on your ass tightened. And her strap slammed into the deepest, most perfect spot while her fingers rubbed your clit in the exact rhythm you needed.

Your mouth fell open.

You made a choked, broken little noise.

And then—you screamed.

Your orgasm ripped through you so hard it hurt. Your body locked up, your thighs shook, your pussy gushed so much it splashed against Sevika's lap, and you collapsed forward, shaking, sobbing, whining her name over and over like a prayer.

Sevika caught every second.

"Fuuuuck," she groaned, watching you ride it out. "That's it, baby. That's how I wanted it. Just like that. Scream for me. Fuckin' soak me."

You sobbed harder, body twitching, your voice all high and shattered and full of relief.

"Y'feel that?" she murmured. "That's what a real orgasm feels like, sweetheart."

You could barely breathe. Barely think. You were slumped over her chest, drooling, twitching, tears still running down your face.

And Sevika was so sweet with you after. 

Her hand never left your pussy—just soft, gentle strokes, too slow to overstimulate. Her other hand brushed your hair, kissed your temple, held your shaking hips down when you whimpered again.

She looked down at your soaked thighs and smirked.

"Goddamn," she muttered. "You made a mess, baby."

You giggled.

And then she dragged her fingers up your slit, scooped the dripping slick from your folds, and showed it to you.

"See that?" she said softly. "That's what it looks like when I fuck you right."

You stared, eyes glazed, lips parted—and when she brought her fingers to your mouth, you didn't even hesitate.

You sucked them in with a needy little whimper.

Sevika's jaw flexed.

"Yeah," she whispered. "That’s it, sweetheart."

You were still trembling when Sevika pulled the strap out.

You whimpered, your body jolting with the aftershocks, and Sevika shushed you instantly, one arm curling tight around your waist to keep you grounded.

"Shhh, I got you, baby. It's okay. I'm right here."

Your head lolled against her shoulder. You were spent. Crying, shaking, drooling a little—and completely boneless in her arms.

And Sevika? She looked at you like she was in awe.

"You did so good," she whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple. "So fuckin' good. You were perfect, sweetheart."

You let out a soft little whimper, still not fully back yet, and Sevika cradled the back of your head like you were something precious.

"Hey," she said gently. "Can I clean you up, pretty girl?"

You nodded weakly, and she was already moving—careful, slow, so fucking tender it made your chest ache.

She laid you back on the pillows with her arm still around you, pressed one more kiss to your jaw, and then grabbed a warm, damp towel from the drawer.

It wasn't rushed. It wasn't mechanical. She cleaned you softly—like she was scared to hurt you. Every wipe was followed by a kiss. Every wince got a murmured "I'm sorry, baby." And when she finally pressed the towel between your thighs, she paused and whispered:

"You okay?"

You nodded, tears still on your cheeks.

"Mhm... just tired."

Sevika smiled.

"Yeah? That cock put you to sleep, huh?" she teased, but her voice was full of love.

She finished wiping you down, tossed the towel aside, and came right back to you-pulling you into her arms, wrapping the blanket around you both.

You buried your face in her neck. Your body was sore, aching, still tingling everywhere—but you felt safe. Warm. Loved.

"Did I do okay..?" you mumbled sleepily.

Sevika froze for a second.

Then she pulled you even closer.

"Baby," she murmured, her voice low and steady and soft, "you didn't just do okay.

You were the best thing l've ever touched."

You let out a tiny, broken breath.

She cupped your cheek, thumb brushing the dried tears from under your eyes.

"You're mine now," she whispered. "All mine. No one's ever gonna touch you like that but me."

You blinked, slow and dazed.

“…Okay," you whispered.

Sevika smiled like she'd just won the lottery. 

She kissed your lips. Kissed your forehead.

Kissed every little tear-stained inch of your face before pulling you into her chest again.

And then, as you drifted off to sleep, she murmured—

"Next time, I'm making you cum twice."

thank you so much to @anonymousgirl23456 for this amazing request <3 i hope u like it !!

[xcherryc2x]

Feeling bored at a sleepover……help dilf Kento Nanami get rid of his stress!!!

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

Nanami x femreader Wordcount: 2.6k

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁

“Still want more doll?”

He’s brushing your hair out of your face so he can see what he’s done to you. You’re a mess, beyond exhausted at this point

He loves to look at your flushed face while he grips your sweaty hips to keep ramming his veiny cock in you mercilessly, you can’t even keep count of how many many times his cum has filled you to the brim

You feel like a constant stream of your cum is also covering his dick causing your insides to make dirty noises as his cock slides in and out each time

Your whole body is getting over sensitive and you can’t feel your legs anymore. your nipples hurt and your clit is so swollen that everytime he thrusts through your dripping folds, you can feel it there at that spot

“you’ve been such a good girl for me”

You’re just whimpering in response

“t-too…f-fast sir” you say breathless. You try to keep speaking but each thrust is more powerful than the last making it extremely difficult to talk

“Cmon use your words sweetheart”

he’s twisting your puffy nipples in attempt to make you speak up

it clearly won’t work since your voice is almost gone, no sounds come out when you open your mouth to moan from the painful pleasures

He loves the way you can’t do anything but keep your delicate hands wrapped around his neck above his back filled with scratches as he carelessly goes faster and deeper so he can finish inside of you one more time

you remember when this started, Nanami was fucking you at the perfect speed, hitting your sweet g spot, really taking his time with you, but now he was going animalistic, acting like he would only be satisfied if your insides are bruised and battered

During the first couple rounds he also tried not to get his semen inside, trying to come up with good reasons as to why he shouldn’t shoot his seed in to you, but the way you were so easy to keep fucking, all that logical thinking cleared out from his mind

He was venting out all his stressful emotions by having long rough sex with you. Your poor pussy the ultimate victim and winner

you really had awakened a feral monster inside in him

it all started when…

A sleepover at your best friend’s house was always fun, you loved when she asked you to stay the night and told you that it’s only her and her dad at home

You have been obsessed with her father, Kento Nanami for a while, you just love his gentleman personality and you get so horny around him it’s uncontrollable.

In the middle of the night you find yourself at Nanami’s bedroom door…

you can’t believe what your about to do. You just can’t. You walk in to the dimly lit room ,but you thankfully jerk yourself back to knock before entering

*knock *knock

You hear him respond quietly, you get chills down your spine

“…yes, come in”

you open the door, your nipples are hard and visible through your thin top, decorated with lace and a baby pink colour

You reach behind you and pull down your matching shorts quickly, you knew half of your ass was out.

You slowly creep inside

“u-um sir”

you look at Nanami, he has a confused expression that’s only toned down by his dark under eye circles and sunken face

“could you please turn the heat up…I feel very cold” you asked in your sweetest voice possible

he shot a quick glance to your breasts. He saw the way they were naturally perked up and your nipples poked through the skimpy fabric

His eyes trail down to your lower body, settling on your hips and thighs for a moment too long. He had definitely realized you came with no undergarments on

Nanami tried to calm down and control himself, this wasn’t a time to act like a teenage boy and get a hard on

“*cough* ahem..yeah sure no problem”

you could tell he was surprised to see you here like this, I mean it was pretty cold but you were there for something else, you hoped he had gotten the hint by now

he looked dreamy, but tired. everything about him was so attractive to you even when it shouldn’t be.

Nanami gets up from his desk chair and you feel your face getting flushed he was so handsome, you’ve never seen his buff body in casual comfortable clothes.

He heads out of the room and downstairs to check on the thermostat

you are feeling confident that you must have had some sort of effect on him, you take a seat on his bed, feeling your plush bottom sink into the mattress under the soft covers

He walks back in and lets you know that he increased the heat and it should be fine now.

“you need anything else?” He asks, rubbing his eyebrows and seeming annoyed

“. . .”

“It’s pretty late, you should get back to bed”

He doesn’t look towards you but his presence is quite intimidating

He’s standing towering over you. He was avoiding your alluring gaze… you might have been intentionally giving him bedroom eyes this whole day…

“so…uh if there is nothing else—“

you cut him off

“I-I just…wanted to—“

Then he cuts you off…but how does he cut you off?

by pushing you back where your sitting making you lay on your back and getting on top of you

You heart was beating at an alarming speed. Your body was getting squished underneath him

“Is this what you want hm?” he says while his hand is between your legs. You’re breath hitched as his finger enters your wet pussy.

He adds another thick finger inside, applying pressure as he moves his fingers in and out

“so wet for me?”

“yes ngggh”

You let out small moans and move your hips up as he continues.

“You’ve got no panties on sweetheart…now you’ve ruined your shorts”

He was right, they were drenched in the bottom area from how much your pussy was leaking. You are melting in his embrace

He circles his middle finger on you’re clit making you feel like you were flying. you were so close to cumming when he increased his speed but then all of a sudden he stopped adrubtly taking his fingers out, dripping with your pussy juice

Whispering in your ear

“But I wouldn’t exactly call these shorts, they weren’t covering anything”

He gently pulls them off gliding his big hands down your legs. He lifts you up by the waist keeping you under him and moving to the centre of his king sized bed.

You wanted him to continue playing with your clit, you were so close to release.

His hot breath lingered on your throat as you feel his lips sucking the skin. that was gonna leave a mark :3

He plops you down and you’re head hits the pillow. You look at him and he’s already taking off his clothes. Leaving only his white undershirt on. His arm muscles flexing with every movement

“please keep going” you say shamelessly

“you’re not the only one who likes to tease doll” his low laughing is followed by a third finger, quickly swallowed by your greedy cunt

soon after working his magic, you cum on his hand, feeling hungry and empty for more

Just then you saw something that made you realize you might be making a mistake…Nanami’s dick was so big, his boxers were having a hard time keeping it in

You could see a dark spot of precum in his boxers. He takes them off too allowing you to see the full length

“s-sir it’s …so big” your eyes widened and you chocked on your spit

As if what you said was expected, he slightly smirks and takes his huge hard cock in his hands and rims your hole with his glistening tip.

He hold your legs up, spreading them a bit more, making room for himself

“so you don’t want it baby?”

Oh no you do want it so with a desperate look on your face you say

“no, I want it”

He chuckles under his breath

“Hm that’s what I like to hear”

you gasped when he put just the tip in. He’s slowly and gently trying to get the rest of it into your pulsing cunt.

It sounds like your in pain the way your squirming, arching your head back and whimpering

Even tho he had previously loosened you up with 3 fingers, the length and thickness of his cock was at a whole other level

“Be a good girl…I know you can take it” he coos, concentrating on trying to get your pussy open from deep inside, enough to start moving

Once it’s all in you take deep breaths feeling so filled up, his thick cock is being pressed by your inner walls, driving him crazy

“see that’s it, how does it feel?” He says while letting go of one of your thighs and rubbing his hand across your stomach, his hand was so rough but gentle enough to feel heavenly

“feels…good” you say looking up at him, with doe eyes, wanting this moment to last

“would you like me to keep going sweetheart?”

“y-yes please” you really want this. You love the way there was no empty space in you, even deep inside

He leans in to whisper to you

“…what a naughty girl” he smiles hugging you close. you get a whiff of his natural scent and it sends you into orbit

you just want him to start fucking you already

He starts thrusting, and you wrap your arms around his neck trying to brace yourself for how his rock hard cock is forcing its way in and out

But you were amazed at how gentle he was, this feeling was unfamiliar to you of course and you reacted accordingly

Just after not even a minute, you legs lock up around him and by the spasms, he can tell you just came.

he takes his cock out, slick with strings of your cum. As of this moment, he wants to make love with you without getting you overwhelmed

Treating your precious pussy like the flower it is, he leans down and kisses your wet folds, making you put your hands on his soft blond hair, pulling his head more in. He’s squeezing your thighs with his big hands turning them red from his tight grip

He sucks on your clit, kissing it with passion.

His toungue was gliding up and down the area making you lose your mind, but his main focus was getting you to calm down. Allowing your pussy to completely relax so you could loosen up. He wants to prepare for the damage his cock will cause

In Nanami’s experience, it was a quite a lengthy process usually involving fingering, oral sex and very slow penetration due to the size of his monster cock

He is soooo good at eating you out…a little too good

“unnnngggh…sir i n-need to go to the bathroom”

Were you gonna cum or piss, you weren’t sure but Nanami backs away to your request and just as he’s about to react further…

You squirt on his face, a stream of fluid flowing with so much force from your pussy that it lands right on Kento Nanami’s face, missing his eyes since he closed them

“I’m so sorry I didn’t know what—“ oh shit, you think to yourself, what did you do ??

He silently just takes off his undershirt wiping his face and before you know it he grabs your knees spreading them apart aggressively and with no warning he rams his throbbing cock into the mess between your legs

“Oh you’re in for it now sweetheart” his facial expression is unreadable but his demeanour changed

You try to catch your breath as he continues thrusting real hard into you, you can see how his face relaxes more and starts looking refreshed. You on the other hand, fet like you were being broken in two

You were hugging him so tight that everytime you felt move his dick deeper and deeper, you couldn’t stop making noises, you dug your face deep into his neck, to muffle your moans

“don’t be shy doll…let your voice out, I don’t mind”

You tilt your head back, rolling your eyes back and curling your toes. You were about to climax once again

You cum quickly, this time Nanami doesn’t stop to comfort you, he just groans and and moves faster due to your clenching and tightening.

Your hole seems to be squeezing down on him too much, he lifts your leg up and lets your knee bend over his shoulder,

“s-stop it’s too much” you exclaim

You were scratching his back leaving red marks all over, but the way he was so keen on continuing made you feel so wanted

“Sweetheart, p-please let me keep going”

He had a pleading look on his face that really made you forget how your swollen cunt was being stretched out more than it should by his girthy cock. You were gonna be soooo loose after this

You just hug him tighter making your tits and hips rub against him with a lot of friction from each thrust

Both of your bodies were over heating and overworked from how hard Nanami was fucking you.

Your nipples were getting redder from rubbing against him, starting to even hurt from the sensitivity

Nanami was about to come inside but his second thoughts made him pull out and shoot his load onto your rising and falling stomach

The room echoed with his heavy breathes and your moans. You must have orgasmed again right with him and it seemed to have done a number on you

You couldn’t think clearly, the sex was so amazing your mind was so clouded you didn’t realize Nanami was talking to you while laying his head on your tits

He was telling you how missionary was the best position to fuck you in cuz he can’t get enough of that cute face of yours and the expressions you make each time he moves his dick in and out

he brings his hand close to one of your swollen nipples…and flicks it “n-not there” you squeak

“These have been wanting attention since you first came to me hm”

He pushes himself up feeling sticky as he realizes his cum on your tummy got on him too

His strong hands were on both sides of you making you feel small

He starts sucking on both of your nipples occasionally squeezing your fat tits

His mouth was doing most of the work. You felt so overstimulated, your cum was still spilling out of your hole onto the mattress and now the sensitivity of how Nanami’s toungue was swirling around such sensitive areas was making you reach your limits

You hadn’t forgot about how your squirted earlier that was quite embarrassing you might say but in Nanami’s opinion it turned him on so much he could not long be patient and gentle with you.

Nanami also kisses your soft pink lips, it sends you over the edge, you are tingling all over. He’s putting all his affection into this deep wet kiss, that seems to have you gasping for air once he backs up

“you are so sweet all over princess”

“Mmmmnnggh”

The kiss was long but now you were sleepy. a good fuck like that would make you sleep like a baby

Little did you know nanami was just gonna keep asking for more and more, his voice filled with affection hiding his lusftful intent. But you so glad you finally were able to have sex with him…you think to yourself, he will probably stop soon…right?

you couldn’t be more wrong

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

Yandere idea, reader is dicks baby mama and when dick decides to bring her to the wayne manor the batboys are instantly smitten with her and now all the boys are trying to steal her away from dick who is ready to fight everyone for his baby mama and baby

Smooth Criminal

Synopsis: Dick's brothers want his baby and his baby mama.

Pairing: Soft!Yandere!Batboys X Fem!AFAB!Reader

Tw: Attempt at crackfic; Implied kidnaping; Implied babytrapping; Reader is insecure with post-pregnancy body; Implied forced relationship; Dick controls what Reader wears; Jealous and possessive Dick Grayson; Touchy batboys; Batboys try to gaslight Dick but he's too smart for that; Slightly angry!Reader and accepting!Reader; English isn't my first language.

Word count: 1,2k

Requested? Yes.

Extra notes: Lol this was fun. Divider.

General masterlist

“And how did this happen?”

“Oh well, this one tried to hide the little one from me for a while, but of course I found them!” Dick exclaimed proudly, but with a hint of his (mostly) past anger at you. You bit your tongue while his family laughed.

You were sitting in the manor’s living room, wearing a sundress that Dick chose, waiting for the picnic on the gardens to be prepared by Alfred. The dress was pretty, and it had plenty of room for your babygirl to grow inside your belly without restricting you. Part of you wanted to resent her for being the reason you're stuck with Dick, but it was not her fault, and not yours either, Dick would shackle you to him one way or another.

Damian put his hand on your belly. Without your permission.

“Is she kicking yet?” Dick answered him for you. “You're 17 weeks along, it could happen anytime.” He started rubbing circles on your belly, out of nowhere. “I don't think Grayson would be a much useful help with that. Truthfully there is no sure way to make a baby stop kicking. But you can try to alleviate the discomfort with warm tea, calming music, light stretching exercises and rubbing the stomach.” He smiled gently. You were taken aback.

“Damian is a pediatric surgeon.” Dick explained while draping his arm over your shoulders, before planting his lips on your neck momentarily.

“Yes. But I mostly stick to managing my clinic nowadays. Your labour’s in good hands. I only have the best of the best on my teams.” Damian gave you a small, soft smile, as if trying to reassure you. He stopped his hand movements and smoothly slid his hands around each side of your waist. He was way too close to be comfortable, and even Dick frowned, confused, at that. You tensed at how close his face was from yours, especially because of your belly and chest grownth, and the fact he was kneeling in front of you. But then- Oh…

Your whole body relaxed instantly and you just had to close your eyes.

Damian grinned smartly and Dick looked at him, bewildered.

“Back pains.” He explained swiftly, while his magic hands worked on your back. You found yourself leaning against his chest and almost laying your head on his shoulder. You sighed dreamily. “You can stop by or call me anytime those get to be too much.”

“... Or I can do it myself.” Dick went to replace Damian's hands but you shot your arms out towards him to stop him.

“No, no, no, don't- don't stop…” You moaned when Damian kneaded a particularly tense knot and practically melted against him. Damian held back a smirk, staring innocently at Dick, who looked murderous.

“Thank you, Jay. I really needed that…” 

“I know, you looked so tense when I got here. I knew I could use my hands to loosen you up…” 

Dick bursted in the apartament, having just come back from the Titans Tower and heard the weird talk inside.

“Jay… What’re you doing here?” He said, strained, but hiding behind a mask of good humor.

“(N/N) called me.” Jason shrugged.

“Didn't know you were on nickname basis…” Dick contemplated, entering the room and taking your daughter from Jasons’ arms. He started rocking her to keep her doozing. 

“We're closer than you think, Dickie.” Jason snorted. You pursed your lips and decided to just keep sitting down on your rocking chair. 

“Love, why did you call him?” Dick asked, ignoring his brother and looking straight at you.

“The shower broke, your baby wouldn't stop crying, and I’m gross.” You crossed your arms.

“Seem’s to me someone’s slacking on the job…” Your eyes darted to Jason, wide, and ready to scream at him, even if it would make your daughter wake up. “Not you, sweetheart, never you. But your boy here certainly needs to step up.” He side-eyed Dick. It was unfair, Dick basically took over 90% of the baby’s care when he was home, because he was a good father, and he was slightly afraid you would run if given the chance. He even stopped working just to spend more time with you. The only reason he was away for days and didn't take you with him was because of something with the Titans and some guy called Deathstroke. You didn't really care to pay attention to anything he said as long as it didn't involve your life or the world’s safety. 

“You're an asshole, get out of here!” 

Jason smirked. 

“Can’t. Just put a bun in the oven for (Y/N).” He shrugged.

“WHAT?” You and Dick exclaimed at the same time.

“I’m baking some bread, relax…” 

“I need some help…” You were in a clothes store with your husband and his brothers, trying to find a dress for an upcoming gala that you didn't want to go, especially since your body changed during pregnancy, and your previous size isn't fitting the way you wanted to anymore. It’s especially annoying that Dick has to give you permission or order you to wear something, regardless of your opinion.

Before Dick could hand the newborn over to her uncle and get up to help you zip the back of your dress, Tim shot up from his seat.

“I’ll do it.”

Tim stood behind you and clasped the zipper between his fingers, before pulling it up. It went smoothly, until it reached your upper back and it wouldn't go up anymore. You felt embarrassment sink in the bottom of your heart, and before Tim could say something, you turned around.

“It doesn't fit, I should try something else.” You averted your gaze to the floor.

“Nonsense. You look stunning right now, (Y/N). It's just your…” Tim’s gaze flicked to your chest momentarily, before quickly staring at your eyes again. “... New curves. Let me use both hands and I’m sure it will fit.” He smiled at you, soft, reassuring, and trying to convince you really bad.

You let out a huff of breath from your nose, and begrudgingly turned again. Truth to his words, with his other hand gripping the fabric above the zipper, it went up smoothly again.

You pursed your lips, analyzing yourself in the mirror. It was tight, but not uncomfortable, red, and long, with a high slit showing off your thigh. But the cleavelange was a little too much to what you were used to.

“I don't know…”

“Oh, please…” Tim, still standing behind you, placed both hands on either side of your waist and squeezed. You felt momentary shivers run up your spine, and your face warmed from shyness. “You look beautiful. Really.”

“Timmy, back down. The wife is mine.” I’m not an object! Your mind screamed, while you held back the urge to clench your hands and stomp your feet.

“I’m not doing anything.” He shrugged. “If you’re so insecure, that's a ‘you’ problem.” Tim winked at you from the mirror, with a convinced half-smirk. “What do you think, (N/N)? I think he's just jealous that you and the little one like me more…”

“The baby doesn't like you more. She likes anyone who will give her junk food and new toys. You're not special.” Dick retorted, and Tim squeezed your hips. “Now back down before people think you're a couple.”

“Geez…”

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