#i’m not strong enough for coming up with subtle ways to talk

[rafecameronssl4t]

What’s good, John B? || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: After finding out John B poached the Camerons' scuba gear and telling Rafe about it, you forget just how crazy he can be.

Warnings: swearing, slight mention of sex, dark!rafe, possesisve/toxic!rafe, mention of gun, reader is abit of a bitch oops.

Word count: 932

A/n: based on s1 rafe + s1 scenes, idk if I like this one tbh, it was just fun to write. PLS SEND ME REQUESTS IM DESPERATE.

MASTERLIST

Divider by @yoonitos

With scuba diving gear in hand, John B quietly shuts the door behind him. As he turns, he’s momentarily startled by your presence—the island’s kook princess, Rafe Cameron’s girl—“Oh, hey," you greet him, casually lifting your sunglasses onto your head while John B steals a glance behind you.

“Are you stalking us? Plotting your revenge, huh?” You lean your elbows against the railing, a sarcastic smile playing on your lips. “Yeah, you know what, why don’t you just go tell your boyfriend’s daddy I blew up the bilge on Druthers?” Your annoyance is palpable as a scoff escapes your lips.

You observe as he stows the scuba gear in his boat. “Everything’s good to go. Just toppin’ off these tanks,” he says with an awkward smile, raising your suspicions. “You know-“ before you can continue, a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist, causing you to cut your sentence short.

As Rafe’s familiar scent envelops you, you instinctively intertwine your fingers with his, savoring the warmth and familiarity of his touch. His lips leave a delicate trail of kisses along your neck, sending shivers down your spine. Meanwhile, John B lingers awkwardly nearby.

Feeling the tension in the air, John B clears his throat, breaking the silence. “What’s good, John B?” Rafe’s voice cuts through the quiet, his tone casual yet tinged with a hint of amusement as he finally lifts his head, his mischievous grin adorning his face, contrasting with the seriousness of the situation.

“What are you- uh- doin’ here? On my boat?” Rafe questions, gesturing around as if to emphasize his point. “Isn’t this your daddy’s boat?” John B tilts his head, while Rafe’s grip around your waist tightens. “What the hell are you doing here, Pogue?” Rafe’s words slice through the tension, his patience fraying at the edges.

“Uh I don’t know if you’ve forgotten Rafe, but I work here. Yep.” John B says, climbing into his boat as Rafe rolls his eyes. “I still don’t know why Dad hired him,” Rafe mutters under his breath, his words carrying a mix of annoyance and confusion. Despite his attempt to keep it quiet, his comment is just audible enough for you to catch, eliciting a smile from you at the subtle jab. “I’m just filling up these tanks,” John B points at the scuba gear. Rafe nods slowly in acknowledgment.

“Uh-huh. Well, move along then,” Rafe waves him off with a dismissive gesture, his expression tinged with annoyance, before he gently tugs you by the hand, leading you back towards the house. As he guides you, his fingers instinctively intertwine with yours, his touch both possessive and protective.

“I don’t want to see you talking to him ever again, got it?” Rafe’s voice rumbles against your hair, his warm breath tickling your skin as he leans in closer, his grip on you tightening with each step.

~

Feeling the dryness in your throat, you quietly rise from the bed, careful not to disturb your sleeping boyfriend. Glancing around, you spot Rafe’s shirt haphazardly discarded on the floor from the previous night. You pick it up and slip it onto your body, its fabric enveloping you with a comforting familiarity. Moving silently, you leave the room and make your way to the kitchen.

As you open the fridge, the creak of the rolling doors draws your attention. Your movements halt abruptly as you come face to face with John B. His surprise is evident; he's frozen in place, caught between the two doors with scuba gear in hand, staring at you.

A sudden realization hits you—you’re only wearing Rafe’s shirt. Embarrassed, you tug it down, trying to cover yourself more adequately. "What are you doing here?" you ask, your voice a mix of confusion and curiosity.

"Uh- I'm just dropping off the scuba gear." He awkwardly steps inside, his eyes darting around as if he's unsure where to look. "What are- what are you doing... here?"

You stare at him for a few seconds, incredulous. Was he being serious? "It's my boyfriend's boat," you say pointedly, your tone making it clear just how obvious the answer should have been. John B's face flushes with embarrassment.

"It's also the only place with air conditioning, so Rafe and I are staying here," you add, but before you can finish, John B rudely cuts you off. "Rafe is here?" His tone is sharp, almost accusatory.

You purse your lips, irritated by the interruption. "Yeah. And I don't think he'll be too happy seeing you here again." You cross your arms, the weight of your words hanging in the air.

Deciding to change the topic, your eyes flicker down to the scuba tanks in his hands. "Did you top up the tanks?" you ask, trying to keep your tone neutral but firm. John B's eyes widen slightly before he averts his gaze. "Uh... no. The power's down, so the compressors were off." He clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably.

"So, you're sneaking onto our boat at 5 a.m. with empty tanks?" you retort, tilting your head to the side and nibbling on your bottom lip. Your piercing stare makes him even more nervous. He fumbles for words, glancing around as if looking for an escape. "I'll... I'll make sure to tell Ward," you add, your voice laced with an unspoken threat.

You give him a tight-lipped smile, then turn back around to get a cup, signaling the end of the conversation. Your movements are deliberate, each one emphasizing your displeasure as you busy yourself, leaving John B to contemplate his next move in silence.

"Okay, okay. Cool. Cool," his voice trails off, a nervous edge betraying his attempt at nonchalance. "Just drop these off," he adds hastily, the clattering of the tanks echoing in the confined space. "Yeah, yeah, the middle of the room is fine," you retort, your tone laced with sarcasm as you shoot him a disapproving look.

"Yeah, this is pretty much what he told me to do," he offers weakly, his gaze shifting uncomfortably under your scrutiny. "Bye!" you dismiss him, turning away to retreat back to your room. But just as you begin to leave, John B interrupts again.

"Actually, you know, what- what exactly were you gonna tell Ward?" His laughter sounds forced, a feeble attempt to mask his anxiety. You feign innocence, shrugging casually. "Nothing much. Just that you poached their scuba gear," you reply, your words dripping with casual indifference.

John B's panic is palpable, his eyes widening in alarm. "Calm down, John B. Don't get your knickers all tied up in a knot. I'll tell them what really happened," you reassure him with a sly smile. "The compressors were down, right?" Without waiting for his response, you pivot on your heels and make your way back to Rafe.

"What took you so long?" Rafe's voice is muffled against the pillow as he reaches out for you, his eyes still heavy with sleep. You gently slide into bed beside him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. "John B was here," you respond quietly.

At the mention of John B's name, Rafe perks up, his expression shifting from drowsy to alert in an instant. "John B was here? What the fuck was he doing here?" He throws the blankets off of him, the sudden motion jolting him awake as he hurriedly begins to dress.

"Rafe," you try to interject, but he doesn't seem to hear you over his rising agitation. "Rafe!" you raise your voice slightly, finally catching his attention. "He's gone now," you reassure him, though the tension in the air remains palpable.

"Well, what was he doing on my boat this early in the morning and- and what did I fucking tell you about not talking to that pogue, hmm?" Rafe's voice is sharp, his grip on your forearm tight as he confronts you, his frustration evident.

"He poached your scuba gear, Rafe. And he was trying to sneak them back without anyone noticing," you explain calmly, meeting his gaze evenly as you observe the conflicting emotions playing across his features.

"Shit. Wait until dad hears about this," Rafe mutters, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips despite his anger, a familiar gleam of mischief in his eyes.

~

Walking out to the backyard to retrieve your sunglasses, the warm sunlight filtering through the trees, you feel a sudden grip on your arm. Startled, you turn to see John B standing there, his expression tense with anger.

"What-" you begin, but he cuts you off sharply. "I just got fired because of you, and I know you can't imagine that, but some people need jobs so that they can eat," he accuses, his voice dripping with resentment. In his frustration, he slaps away the sunglasses you were holding, the clatter as they hit the ground echoing in the quiet backyard.

Before you can respond, the tension is shattered by the sound of Rafe's voice. "What the fuck do you think you're doin', man?" His tone is menacing as he strides over to where the two of you are standing, his demeanor radiating fury.

Rafe's sudden appearance catches John B off guard, but he stands his ground, his jaw clenched in defiance. "Y/n, get your ass inside," Rafe commands without even sparing you a glance, his attention solely focused on John B.

"But-" you attempt to protest, but Rafe's next words cut you off sharply. "Now!" His voice is commanding, sending a shiver down your spine. With a timid nod, you obey, hurrying back into the comforting embrace of Tannyhill.

Around 10 minutes later, Rafe strides back into his room, his footsteps heavy with a mix of frustration and determination. As soon as you see him, you jump up from the bed and wrap your arms around him in a tight embrace. He's slightly taken aback by the sudden gesture but responds by pulling you closer, his embrace firm and reassuring, his hand gently stroking your hair.

"Are you okay? What happened?" you ask, concern evident in your voice as you pull back to look at him. It's only then that you notice the bruise forming around his eye, and your worry deepens.

"Yeah, don't worry about me. That pogue will soon find out he fucked up," Rafe says, his voice edged with a quiet resolve as he gazes off into the distance, his thoughts elsewhere.

"What- Rafe-" you begin, but he brushes past you and opens his drawers, pulling out a gun. Your heart drops at the sight, fear coursing through your veins. "Rafe," you whisper, your voice trembling with apprehension. "Please don't do anything stupid, please."

He turns to face you, the gun in his hand, but his expression softens into a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, sweetheart. He won't be bothering us anymore very soon," he reassures you, his tone calm yet filled with a chilling determination that sends a shiver down your spine.

[x0xomady]

whole lotta love

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summary: you go to the studio with harry and he needs to take out his pent up exhaustion on something.

(rockstar!harrystyles x fem!reader)

title is based on one of my fav led zeppelin songs - 🌟

warnings: this is straight up smut. 18+. degrading names, dumbification (kinda), lots n lots of sex. p in v, oral fem and male receiving

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sitting in the studio with harry is one of my favorite things. watching him move through the different recording booths, pick up different guitars, and sing was always entertaining.

harry was a living storm, a whirlwind of guitars, microphones, and infectious energy. he moved effortlessly from one booth to the next, each instrument under his fingers like an extension of himself. his voice reverberated through the studio, filling every corner with a soulful, raw power that left me breathless.

every time he took a new microphone in hand, his features took on a different air, a different persona. his eyes would light with life as he played with the various settings and effects, experimenting with his voice to produce sounds i’ve never heard before.

i’ve always loved harrys strong voice. however, nothing is better than watching him play guitar.

there was something mesmerizing about watching him play. his fingers moved like lightning across the strings, plucking out complex riffs and solos effortlessly. the way he gripped the guitar, his entire body moving in sync with the music, was like watching a piece of art come to life.

i couldn’t help the way my eyes wandered down to his tattoo and ring adorned hands.

as harry continued to play, his green eyes met mine, and i felt a jolt of electricity run through me. he gave me a small smile, and i felt my heart race in response. i couldn't take my eyes off him, the way he moved, the way he played, it was all so captivating.

harry puts down his guitar and walks out of the booth to the couch where i’m sitting. “hows it sounding, baby?"

he asks, his voice smooth and confident. i can't help but smile at his endearing nickname for me. "it sounds amazing. i liked that last guitar solo a lot," i reply, with a smile as i look up at him.

harry's smile widens, and he takes a seat next to me on the couch. "i'm glad you think so," he says, his green eyes sparkling with pride. we sit there, listening to the playback of his latest recording.

as harry settled in beside me, his thigh brushing against mine, i felt a flutter in my chest. he reached out to grab the remote control, his fingers grazing my knee, and i couldn't help but notice the way his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. he talks to the other artists and producers in the studio as they edit and playback his recordings.

harry pulls out a cigarette and leans back against the couch, resting his hand on my thigh while talking to the producers. the smoke from his cigarette swirls around us, creating a hazy, intimate atmosphere. as we listen to the playback of his latest recording, i can't help but glance down at harry’s ring clad fingers. my stomach tightens slightly as i look down at his firm grip on my thigh.

being harry styles girlfriend is hard because theres never enough time. when harry isn’t on tour playing his music for his fans, he’s in the studio writing. that’s why i always go to the studio with him. we hold onto any time we have that we can spend together, even if that means sitting on the couch listening to him play for hours.

as harry's fingers drummed a gentle rhythm on my thigh, i felt his gaze shift from the producers to me, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my pulse quicken.

he took a slow drag on his cigarette, the smoke curling around us like a veil, and i could sense the weight of his exhaustion, the toll of constant creativity and performance. his hand on my thigh tightened, a subtle squeeze that told me ‘i need to fuck out my frustrations'

i smiled and rolled my eyes as harry teasingly dragged his palm across my inner thigh. his eyes never left mine, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against my ear.

"you know you want to," he whispered, his voice low and husky. i couldn't help but smile and shake my head at his actions. harry was never shy with pda, even when his best friends and writing team were all sitting 6 feet away from us.

harry chuckled softly, his breath warm against my ear as he leaned in closer. "you know i can't resist you, love," he murmured, his hand sliding back onto my thigh, fingers tracing circles against the fabric of my jeans. i couldn't help but smile, my heart fluttering at his words.

"harry, there are four other people in here," i whispered, my voice barely audible over the music playing in the background. "hands to yourself." i playfully pushed his hand away, my fingers lingering on his for a moment before i pulled away. harry's eyes sparkled with mischief as he crossed his arms and leaned back against the couch, play playing on his lips.

as harry leaned back against the couch, his eyes never left mine. he took another slow drag on his cigarette, i could sense the tension in his body, the pent-up frustrations and overstimulation from the day waiting to be released.

"alright, i think that's enough for today," he says to the producers, his voice low and husky.

while the producers packed up their gear, harry's gaze remained fixed on me, giving me a look that made my stomach tighten. he waited quietly, nodding to the team as they left the room. until, everyone was gone, leaving us alone in the suddenly silent studio.

as soon as the door closed behind the last producer, harry was on me like a flash. his hands grabbed my face, pulling my lips against his in a passionate kiss. i could taste the smoke from his cigarette on his lips, the familiar scent of his cologne filling my senses.

his fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me closer as he deepened the kiss. i wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer as i kissed him back, my heart pounding in my chest.

harry's hands moved down my body, tracing the curves of my hips as he pulled me closer.

as harry's hands continued to explore my body, i couldn't help but sigh, "fuck harry." our clothes quickly fell to a pile on the floor, and harry's lips found my neck, leaving a trail of sweet but rough kisses. his touch was urgent and passionate, a release of the pent-up energy that had been building up all day.

harry's lips trailed down my body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. i could feel his breath against my skin, his fingers digging into my hips as he held me close. "gonna have a quick taste, baby," he mumbled against my skin, his voice low and husky.

his lips found my nipple, and he sucked it into his mouth, his tongue flicking against the sensitive bud. i gasped, my fingers tangling in his hair, pressing myself closer to him. harry's other hand moved down my body, his fingers slipping between my legs.

"already wet for me?" he asks, his voice low and husky. i can only nod, my breath coming out in short gasps as harry's fingers continue to trace along my center.

harry's lips find mine again, his tongue slipping into my mouth as he deepens the kiss. i can feel his erection pressing against my thigh, and i can't help but moan against his mouth. harry's fingers continue to move inside me, his thumb rubbing against my clit in slow, deliberate circles.

harry's grin widens as he pushes his middle finger past my tight entrance. "so fucking slutty for me, isn't that right baby?" he whispers, his voice husky with desire. i gasp as the cold rings sitting at his knuckles graze my entrance.

“i barely have to touch you and you’re a sopping wet mess.” harry’s thumb continues to rub against my clit in slow, deliberate circles, his fingers moving within me. i whimper as harry teases me, his fingers never stopping.

harry's eyes lock onto mine as he pulls away from me, his lips curving into a smirk. he slides down my body, his fingers trailing along my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. i can feel my heart pounding in my chest as he settles between my thighs, his breath hot against my skin.

he leans in, his lips brushing against my inner thigh, leaving a trail of soft kisses. i can feel his fingers digging into my hips, holding me in place as he presses a sweet kiss to my bundle of nerves.

"please harry-" i groan as harry sucks my clit into his mouth, his tongue flicking against it in rapid, gentle strokes. my hips buck up against his face, seeking more friction, as he hums a low, vibrating note that resonates against me. his fingers, still buried inside me, curl upward, stroking my spot while he looks up at me innocently.

as harry continues to nurse on my core, my hands tangle in his curls, pulling him closer. his tongue flicks against my clit in rapid, gentle strokes, causing my hips to buck up against his face. i can feel the tension building inside me, my breath coming out in short gasps. harry's fingers continue to move inside me, curling upward to stroke my spot.

his eyes lock onto mine, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he watches me unravel beneath him. i can feel my orgasm building, my body trembling with anticipation. harry's tongue continues to move against my button, while his fingers move faster inside me.

"come for me baby. then i'm gonna make you come again on my cock." he grins and kisses my clit, his lips brushing against my sensitive skin, sending shivers down my spine.

his thick fingers continue to move inside me, curling upward to stroke my spot, as his tongue flicks against my clit. i can feel my orgasm building, my body trembling with anticipation, and i know i'm on the edge, ready to fall apart beneath him.

as i teetered on the edge, harry's fingers curled upward, stroking my spot with precision, and his tongue danced against my clit. my stomach tightened, my hips bucking up against his face as i let out a soft, moan, and harry's eyes locked onto mine, his gaze burning with intensity as he watched me unravel beneath him.

with the combined sensations of his tongue and fingers against me, my orgasm crashing over me like a wave. a grin spread across his face as he lapped up my release. his tongue licking up the creamy mess that dripped from my entrance.

as harry's tongue lapped up the last drops of my release, he slowly kissed his way up my body, his lips leaving a trail of fire on my skin. he paused at my nipples, teasing them with gentle nips and licks, sending shivers down my spine.

his dark lust filled eyes met mine as he finally reached my lips, pushing his against mine in a sloppy kiss that left me breathless.

as harry's lips moved against mine, i could feel his erection pressing against my thigh. "please fuck me, harry," i whimpered, my voice breathless and desperate. despite being overstimulated and exhausted, i needed to feel him in me. harry's grin widened as he pulled away from me, his dark eyes filled with desire.

he positioned himself between my legs, his length pressing against my entrance, as he looked down at me with a wicked grin. "you sure you can handle it, baby?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

harry's lips curled into a smirk as he kissed across my collarbones, his fingers tracing the curves of my body. "i don't know if these sweet little cunt can handle it," he teased, his voice low and husky.

harrys fingers gripped my hips as he pressed the tip of his cock against my clit. i gasped, my hips bucking up against him as he continued to tease me, his dark eyes filled with desire.

"quit teasing," i whine, my voice laced with desperation, and push my hips up against his, seeking friction against his length.

harry's smirk widens as he holds his position, the tip dragging across my entrance. his fingers dig deeper into my hips, his grip tightening as he slowly begins to circle his cock around my entrance.

harry's eyes twinkled with mischief as he smirked down at me, his thick tip just past the tight entrance of my cunt. "yeah? is that what my girl wants? you want me to fuck you?" he teased, his voice low and husky. i nodded, my hips bucking up against him.

"you were such a good girl sitting in the studio all day patiently... guess i gotta give you what you want," he said. with a swift thrust, harry buried himself inside me, his cock filling me up completely.

as harry's cock filled me up completely, i felt my inner walls stretch to accommodate his thick length, and a low moan escaped my lips. his green eyes locked onto mine, burning with intensity as he paused for a moment, allowing me to adjust to his size. then, with a slow, careful movement, he began to withdraw, his cock dragging against my sensitive walls.

harry's cock dragged throughout my core, my muscles fluttering around him. he paused for a moment, his eyes locked onto mine, before slowly thrusting back in, his length filling me up completely once again. with each deliberate stroke, he built a rhythm that had my hips moving in sync with his.

“shit- i love you so much.” harry groans and pushes his forehead against my shoulder while he thrust into me.

my eyes squeeze shut as harry quickens his pace. his thick cock moved deeply, my tight walls squeezing him. i whimper when i feel the harsh ridges and veins of his length move within me.

“i love you too, h” my hands hold onto harry’s shoulders as he quickly thrusts into me.

harry moans against my neck and continues snapping his hips against mine. his hands grip my hips tightly before flipping me over so i’m laying on my stomach. i squeal in surprise when he does this, which makes him chuckle and kiss my cheek.

“so fucking gorgeous…” he mumbles against my skin while grabbing my hips. without warning harry thrusts back in, in one quick movement.

harry snakes a hand down my body to my core. his fingers quickly find my clit, as he begins rubbing tight circles over it. my stomach tightens and i press my hips back against him, fucking back to meet his thrusts.

“that’s it baby. fuck- i can’t even last around you.” he squeezes his eyes shut and picks up his pace.

harry's thrusts become more erratic as he continues to pump into me, his fingers still working my clit. i can feel my orgasm building, my muscles tensing as i move my hips back against him.

“harry, i'm gonna come," i gasp, my voice barely above a whisper. harry's thrusts become more urgent, his fingers pressing harder against my clit as he chases his own release.

“good girl. come one more time for me baby.” he bites my shoulder to muffle his moans.

as i tremble on the edge of release, harry's fingers dance across my clit with increased force, his cock pounding into me with reckless abandon. my body begins to shudder, my walls clamping down around him, a low, whine escapes my lips as my second orgasm crashes over me. harry's grip on my hips tightens, his own release mere seconds behind mine.

"god- you're milking me, love" he groans as his thrusts become sloppy, his cock still twitching inside me as he releases paints his seed across my walls. i feel his warm breath on the back of my neck, his chest heaving against my back as he tries to catch his breath.

after a few moments of catching his breath, harry gently pulls out of me, leaving me feeling empty. he sits on the couch next to where i’m laying, his chest still heaving as he tries to regain his breath. i turn over to face him, my eyes meeting his. he gives me a lazy smile, his eyes still filled with desire.

“i’m fucking crazy for you," he murmurs. he grins and rolls his eyes playfully. "i don't think i'll ever get enough of you."

he leans in, his lips finding mine in a passionate kiss. i can taste myself on his lips, the lingering sweetness of our shared pleasure.

as we kiss, i can feel harry's cock twitching against my thigh, already growing hard again. i smirk against his lips, my hand sliding down to wrap around his length. he groans into my mouth as i begin to stroke him, his hips bucking up to meet my touch.

"fuck, you're insatiable," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire.

i giggle and slide down to the floor of the studio, my knees hitting the ground as i sit in between harry's legs. i look up at him, my eyes filled with mischief as i take his cock in my hand, my fingers wrapping around his growing length.

harry groans, his head falling back against the couch as i begin to stroke him, my hand moving up and down his shaft with practiced ease. i can feel him growing harder in my hand, his cock twitching with each stroke.

i lean forward, my tongue darting out to lick the tip of his cock, tasting the salty sweetness of his precum.

harry's hips buck up as i take him fully into my mouth, my lips sliding down his length as i begin to suck. he groans, his hands tangling in my hair as i work my mouth up and down his cock, my tongue massaging his shaft. i can feel him growing harder in my mouth, his cock twitching as i continue to suck him off.

i moan around his length, my hand moving to cup his balls as i continue to work my mouth up and down his cock. harry's hips buck up, his cock hitting the back of my throat as he begins to thrust into my mouth.

harry's cock pulses in my mouth, his thrusts becoming more frantic as he chases his release. i can feel his balls tightening in my hand, his cock twitching as he gets closer to the edge. my tongue dances around his shaft, massaging him with every stroke, and his moans grow louder, more urgent, as he loses control.

"good girl-" he groans and tightens the grip in my hair making me whimper around his length. "just needed my cock in your mouth, isn't that right baby?" his words are laced with a mix of desire and possessiveness, as i continue to suck him off.

i moan in response, the vibrations from my mouth causing his cock to twitch even more, and he lets out a low, groan, his hips bucking up to meet my lips.

with a final, desperate thrust, harry's cock surges forward, releasing a hot, salty stream of cum that floods my mouth. i swallow greedily, my throat working to take in every last drop as harry's body shudders above me, his fingers still tangled in my hair.

“swallow all of it.” he looks down at me with a dark, but loving, gaze.

i grin and collect the cum that dripped out of my lips with my finger tips. my mouth wraps around my fingers as i clean them off, drinking in his salty release. “swallowed all of it.” i smile and look up at him.

harry's body relaxes, his grip on my hair loosening as he pulls me up to kiss him. our lips meet in a passionate, lingering kiss, his tongue exploring my mouth as he tastes himself on my lips. he pulls back, his eyes dark with desire as he looks down at me. "you're amazing," he murmurs, his voice thick.

i smile up at him, my heart swelling with love and desire. i whisper, my fingers tracing the lines of his jaw. "i love you, harry."

as we are whispering things to each other and sharing sweet kisses, a knock on the door interrupts us, the sound of mitch’s voice following.

“are you guys done fucking yet?” his bored voice coming from the other side of the door makes harry smirk and roll his eyes.

“yeah yeah give us a minute.” he grins and gives me a kiss before leaning in and whispering back to me. “i love you more.”

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wow that got wayyyy too horny at the end. if you read all that- i’m so sorry 😭

-xoxo

[biting-miguel-ohara]

Alpha - Logan Howlett x ftm!reader

A/N: Hi! Um, this is my first work within the fandom! This was written with X-Men Logan in mind. Fic is unedited with no use of Y/N. This is so self-indulgent, so please be nice

Please make sure to read the tags carefully! They’re there for a reason

CW: Reader is a wolf mutant; Logan and Reader get off to a tense start; Reader is implied to be pre-op ftm, via the use of sports bras; implied wet dreams; use of the words slick and wet to describe Reader’s arousal; a/b/o dynamics? maybe?; misunderstandings; rough sex; pet play? (Reader is called pup); Reader is referred to as handsome; grinding; fingering; use of the word dick to describe Reader’s parts; overstimulation; no use of safe word; unprotected piv; multiple orgasms; implied aftercare

2493 words

The first thing you notice about Logan is his scent.

Not that you know it belongs to him. But it’s all you can smell as you talk to Jean. Thick and heady and strong. Musky like an animal and cloying like smoke.

Jean, of course, can tell you’re distracted. Instead of calling you out on it, she simply calls him in. Him and Scott enter at the same time, with an air of tension between them. Not that you care for long.

You’re too busy ogling the man in front of you. Rugged and handsome, more like a mountain man than a teacher.

Yet, that’s how Jean introduces him. Logan Howlett. History teacher.

You smile politely. You hold out your hand and try to not get too offended when he doesn’t shake it. You can tell he’s wary of you. Not that you could blame him.

You must be giving off a scent of your own, though you can’t smell it. But you can hear his inhale, feel the way his eyes watch you. You know he knows.

Especially when he straightens up. Lifting his chin and widening his stance. Establishing his dominance in a more subtle way than most other males. Perhaps he’s just that assured in his position.

Either way, you can feel your instincts itching at the back of your mind. The desire to submit. To recognize his authority. It pricks at you like a needle, but you brush it away. You’ve had enough of submitting to men like him. If he wants it, he’ll have to earn it.

Jean rests a hand on Logan’s arm, softly scolding him, probably for what he’s thinking. “Hey, be nice. They’re a wolf mutant.”

“A wolf mutant?” He looks unimpressed.

You stand your ground. Your nerves are starting to buzz from the force of his gaze. You hate stare downs, but you can’t lose this one.

“Yeah.” You answer him yourself. “That’s me.”

He scoffs and looks you up and down. “Yeah, whatever, bub. You ever even see a real wolf?”

You know what he’s doing and you hate it. But at least he’s not mistaking you for a girl and being all overly nice. You’d rather get his blunt side than his fake side.

“No. I’m a wolf mutant, not a real wolf.” You at least try to keep some of the sarcasm from your voice. Trying’s worth something, right?

Logan doesn’t look impressed. He crosses his arms, which prompts Scott to finally step in. “Welcome to Xavier’s Home for—“

“Thanks.” You interrupt him with a smile, but your gaze never leaves Logan’s.

Scott seems caught off guard. “Why… don’t I show you around…?”

Something in you relaxes at the thought of being away from such an intimidating man like Logan. You nod and accept his offer.

On your tour, your thoughts keep drifting back to Logan. Even away from him, your body sets on edge at the thought of him. He’s going to be trouble for you, you’re sure of it.

Most of the mutants at Xavier’s are surprisingly accepting of you. The adults, you mean. You don’t tell the kids.

Maybe it’s because you have Jean and Scott on your side, but most of the adults don’t bother you after learning your secret. Most of them find out when you come to training wearing a sports bra and baggy pants.

A few have questions. Most just leave you alone.

You’ve never been more grateful that Logan wasn’t around than during that particular training session.

The tension between the two of you has only gotten worse. You’re sticking by your defiance to his posturing, even at the expense of your pride. Your nerves hate it as well, practically screaming at you whenever Logan gets too close.

Part of you can’t figure it out. You’ve been around men like him before, but never with this reaction. The other part of you doesn’t care enough.

And yet, you care enough to be relieved that he doesn’t directly know your secret. It’s not a huge deal; you’re pretty sure Jean would’ve told him by now. But it’s still nice that he doesn’t know from you.

Until he does.

The whole day starts with you feeling off. You have one of those good dreams, and wake up in a puddle of your own slick. Definitely a damper to your morning.

Then they run out of your favorite breakfast food, some of your students are late to class, and it goes on and on.

By evening you are pissed. Not just at life but at yourself. Because the one thing you cannot get out of your mind is your dream.

You can remember strong arms. Growls of your name. A thick cock bullying its way between your legs. Delicious pleasure.

But you cannot remember the face. It eludes you all day. Stuck there at the back of your mind. On the tip of your tongue.

It’s not until Logan walks into your classroom after your last class that it hits you. With horrifying, picture perfect clarity.

Logan. It was Logan. You had a fucking wet dream about Logan.

Even worse? You’re not as opposed to the idea as you thought you’d be.

For a moment, you’re just staring at Logan. He raises an eyebrow. “You okay, bub?”

“Uh, yeah.” You hastily gather up your things, hoping beyond hope that he can’t smell the slight arousal you feel.

You know it’s too late when you brush by him and he stiffens. You know he can smell you. It doesn’t help the problem.

“What—“

You make your exit. Very fast. Very undignifying. But he doesn’t follow, so you count it as a win.

Two things change. The first is that you start avoiding Logan as much as possible. The second…

Well, the second is that he features in every single one of your dirty fantasies. Every wet dream. Every random horny thought. All Logan.

And it is infuriating.

Logically, you know why. He’s the protector of the house. The ‘alpha’ of the pack, so to speak. Sooner or later your body would react to his presence. He’s strong, handsome, and gruff. Literally your type.

You still blame it on your biology and pretend you don’t think of him when you get off.

It works for a week. One week, that’s how long you get before Logan corners you in the Training Room.

The moment you smell his musky scent, you know you’re fucked. He smells like anger. And something more that you try really hard to not think about.

But this moment was to come eventually, so you gear yourself up and face him head on.

You know you’re a sight. Sweaty and out of breath, wearing a sports bra and pants. If he didn’t know before, he sure does now.

Logan stops a few feet away from you. He eyes you up and down, frowning slightly. For a moment, there’s nothing but silence between you.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he says gruffly.

You cross your arms and wait for him to continue. Slivers of anxiety spiking through your body.

“Why? Why are you avoiding me?” Logan looks frustrated and it makes you want to cower. Shrink down and beg for his forgiveness.

You hated it. How dare he make you feel this way? All because you’re stuck with a fucking wolf mutation that makes you want to hide like a little puppy from him.

So you push against your instincts. Straighten yourself up. Meet his gaze full on. “What does it matter why?”

Logan blinks. As if he hadn’t been expecting your defiance. Then he rumbles out a growl. “You missed the team training session yesterday. How are we supposed to make sure you’re ready for missions if you don’t show up?”

It’s your turn to blink. To stare. To be confused. “What?”

He crosses his arms, unintentionally making his forearms stand out so perfectly. Not that you’re noticing, of course. Just another pesky side effect of his presence.

“You’re one of the most capable mutants here,” Logan says firmly. “So if you have an issue, let’s talk about it now.”

“Wait, you’re here about missions?”

He nods. Then frowns. “What else would I be here for?”

Suddenly you feel stupid. Absolutely stupid. “So… you’re not here about…” You gesture to your body.

His frown deepens. “What?”

“You know,” your anxiety feels like fire ants in your stomach. “The fact that my body is—“

“I could care less, bub,” he says bluntly. “It’s your body.”

You want to cry. You want to laugh. This whole time you’ve been stressing about Logan, and he hasn’t given a single fuck.

You relax. Your anxiety dissipating so fast it makes your head feel funny. That’s one of your problems solved.

And the other?

Well, it only gets worse.

It all comes to a head on a random Tuesday.

Scott, Jean, and Ororo are off on a mission. The students have all been dismissed from their classes. You’re in the Training Room, working out yet another filthy dream about Logan.

Your fantasies about him have gotten more intense now that you know he doesn’t care about the way your body is. It’s a major, major problem. You’ve started getting dehydrated from the amounts of slick you’re creating.

Which is why you’re in the Training Room instead of getting off. You’re lucky Jean and the Professor haven’t said anything yet, but sooner or later they’re gonna know.

You’re working through your third round of training dummies when a scent catches your attention. Musk and thick smoke. You stop immediately.

“Don’t mind me,” Logan says, a hint of amusement in his gruff tone. “I’m just here to train as well.”

Your hopes for training might as well be ashes in the wind. There is no way you are going to be able to focus on anything other than him.

“Wanna spar?” You ask, false cockiness in your voice.

Instantly your instincts are screaming at you. Challenging the alpha to a fight? You might as well give up your position in the school now. No one challenges an alpha to a fight without a cause behind them.

Excessive horniness apparently didn’t count to your wolf brain. But it did to you.

Logan eyes you. He seems tense; can he smell your light arousal in the air?

“Sure.” You find yourself both relaxing and tensing at his agreement.

You clear the floor and get into your positions. Your instincts start to settle, helping you focus. You take a breath, and move.

The sparring is brutal. Fun and exhilarating, but brutal.

One thing leads to another, and the next thing you know you’re flat on your back. Logan pinning you down. One hand keeping your hands above your head, the other keeping your waist against the floor. His knee nudged between your legs.

You get wet ridiculously fast. You’re panting, gasping for breath, and you can smell your own arousal. You can feel the slick coating your thighs, soaking through your boxers.

You meet Logan’s gaze. Your wolf instincts are mostly quiet for once. Probably because he already has you pinned down. The only thought in your head?

Submit to him.

Logan’s pupils are blown. He’s panting too, and you know he can smell you.

“You into this sort of shit?” He asks, voice hoarse.

You can’t do much against the instincts of your brain. You let your head rest against the floor. “Into you, maybe.”

There’s a moment of silence.

Logan’s voice is rougher than you’ve ever heard it. The sound goes straight to your core.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he growls, “and it’ll never have happened.”

“I want this,” you say, a hint of a whimper in your voice. “Logan, I need—“

His mouth smashes against yours. It’s not pretty, it’s not delicate. He kisses you like he’s starving, ravaging your mouth. Nipping at your lips until the tang of blood fills your mouth.

It’s not pretty, but it makes you oh so wet.

You moan into his mouth, struggling against his hold on you. You want to rake your fingers through his hair, buck up against him, really just anything more than what he’s giving you now.

“Settle down, pup,” he growls.

Your body responds embarrassingly fast. You still, panting into his mouth.

“Please,” you beg, “please, Logan, I need you.”

He smirks. Nudges his knee against your crotch. Even the slight amount of friction feels like heaven and you chase it with a moan.

“Dumb little slut,” he mutters. “Bet you’re already soaked for me, huh, handsome?”

You just whine, too busy grinding against his knee to answer. You need more. You need more. Why isn’t he giving you more?

“Logan,” your voice breaks, “Please!”

“Please what?” His fingers ghost along the waistband of your pants. “Use your words.”

“Please touch me,” you whimper.

He smirks, his words dripping with condescension. “Good boy.”

You almost cum just from his words alone. And when his fingers dip under your waistband, sliding into your boxers to circle your dick?

Your vision blurs with pleasure, your body squirming underneath him. He doesn’t let up, just keeps rubbing his fingers against you. It’s torture, pure delicious torture.

“Logan!” You sob. “Too much!”

“Too much?” He mocks. “I can fucking smell you, pup. I can smell the amount of slick pouring out of you. It’s not ‘too much’ till I’ve drained every last drop of cum from your dick.”

As if to make his point, he stuffs two fingers inside you, stretching you out and making you sob. When you start to squirm, he shifts, letting go of your hands in favor of pinning down your waist. Keeping you firmly against the floor.

You burrow your fingers into his hair, gripping tightly to keep from screaming as he curls his fingers against that one spot inside you.

It’s exquisite, mind-numbing, perfect.

He bullies his cock inside you after your third orgasm, stretching you out and making you babble mindlessly. You’re a mess on the floor; fucked out, sweaty, and coated in your own slick.

The sounds are obscene, and you hope to god no one outside the room can hear you.

You can barely feel your legs, lost to everything except the pleasure and the feeling of his hands gripping your thighs as he pounds into you. Over and over and over.

He cums once, and fucks it all back into you. It’s not until you’re literally drooling on the floor that he finally lets up, cumming inside you for the second time.

You whine softly as he pulls out, blearily cracking open your eyes.

“Hush, pup,” he soothes. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

He lifts you into his arms and you nuzzle into his chest. Uncaring about how messy you are, or about the puddle of cum and slick left on the floor.

It’s just Logan for now, and you’re content with that.

[screampied]

TO THE NIGHT WE MET.

summary. you and nanami watch the ball drop together to end the year with a good start. funny how even the sweetest moments can feel so…surreal.

wc. 1.7k

tags. gn!reader, fluff in the beginning, angst-ish, just nanami being an affectionate husband, calls reader sweetheart + dear.

“sweetheart, ‘s almost midnight.” nanami would mutter is the sweetest voice. you’re in the kitchen and he’s sat lazily manspread near the living room. nice and cozy on the leather comforter before he rubs a hand against his thigh, ushering you to come join him.

“okay.” you’d hum, making your way towards him, and a soft smile presses against his lips. he could never find the right words to describe how he felt whenever he’d just stare and gawk at you. you made his heart fill with love, so much of it.

the tv was on, and playing on the flat screen was the iconic ball drop. it was being broadcasted live, with just a few minutes to spare.

you made yourself cushy and snug against his lap. he wraps an arm around you before pulling you close towards him, snaking his fingers alongside your waist before resting his chin near your shoulder, he exhales a soft sigh before mumbling against your ear. “gonna be another year with you by my side. ‘m so lucky..”

“i’m luckier,” you teased, hearing his chest jostle a bit against you, his body language letting you know that he was laughing, a sweet playful guffaw.

“i’m luckiest, my dear,” he whispers—softly ghosting his fingers along inside down the nape of your neck, gently brushing a thumb against some strands of your hair as the two of you had your eyes averted towards the screen. “told ya.”

“pft.” you scoff with a subtle eye roll.

nanami hums to himself, knowing he’d always get the last word, finding your bitter yet teasing frustration to be nothing but simply…adorable, that was the word.

currently, nothing major was happening.

just a few well known bands performing before the ball would drop. currently plastered on the screen in a bright neon timer it read 11:56 P.M. nanami continued to hold you in his arms, your back pressed against his chest as if you didn’t have a single care in the world.

because well, you didn’t.

every moment you spent with nanami, you wanted to savor and cherish every moment. every second — every sixty seconds that hung onto every minute. simply because you never realized how quick time would speed by whenever you two would do something as simple as talking.

just rambling and rambling about nothings, about your day, his day, or nanami just showering you with compliments, he’s your husband after all.

just hearing the calmness of your voice was enough to put him at ease. to put all his irksome worries to rest, a deep and utter slumber.

“before we leave this year behind, sweetheart,” he mutters against your ear, and you feel him reaching towards the side of the couch to grab something. “i got you a little gift.”

“kento…” you start to object, turning around to face him, still propped up against his lap, just barely.

he smiles, bringing a hand towards your face before stroking your chin, placing the gift into your hand.

it was a pretty medium-sized box, a bit of weight onto it and he chuckles, “i know. ‘s not really a special occasion like your birthday or anything but i jus’ wanted to give you something you wanted since i had no time to get you anything for christmas. work was—”

“i…i can’t even get mad.” you sigh, eyebrows narrowly furrowing together. you pull him into a brief hug and he guffaws, at your tight grip your arms have as they lock around him tightly. his hands gently rub against your back, tenderly.

nanami smelled so good too, a strong mixture of cologne, but he always made sure to wear the ones that you liked. he was always so fond of letting you even pick them out for him to wear. you nuzzle your head against his chest a bit before murmuring a soft, “thank you.”

“eh, shouldn’t you thank me after you open it? if anything, the box could be empty, dear.”

he grins at the tiny pout-like scowl tugging against your lips before he playfully boops your nose, intently staring into your eyes before happily sighing. “oh, quit it. ‘m only teasing. go ahead. hurry and unwrap it. think you’ll really like it.”

you give him a quick glance, a cute frisky scowl on your lips before you look down to yourself with an almost hidden smile. digging your nails and starting to unravel the bright silvery wrapping paper — you could only imagine what this particular gift was.

a few good seconds later, your hands run across to what feels like a hefty base, your fingers trace around the material of layers and grain, before it stops against a circular lens.

“you...you remembered?”

“you did always say how much you wanted a new polaraoid,” nanami starts, tilting his head with a soft simper. such kind eyes staring into yours, not once departing. “which was like all the time, but i made sure to save up for you, sweetheart. now you can take as many pretty pictures you want.”

you start to feel a sudden throb in your chest, the more you stared at nanami — holding the newly unwrapped camera in your hand, thumbs swiping against it, an imaginary lump randomly getting caught in your throat to where you find it hard to voice out a reply and then he breaks the silence.

“ah, they’re starting the countdown. c’mere…”

you cleared your throat, somewhat helping the strange tears that nearly made its way to trickle down your eyes from his sweet efforts at giving you a present on new years.

the scenery was so pretty, crowds of people in puffercoats. balloons and lots of confetti everywhere decorating and flying amongst the sky from the wind.

humming and singing along to the jams and tunes before getting a bit quiet once the reporter announced it was time to start the infamous countdown.

“alright everyone, ten….nine….eight…seven….”

you hugged nanami’s waist, the both of you counting down together with the screen, he smiles at your grip. nanami ghosts his fingers against your back as a soothing method, before the continue.

“six…five…four…three…two…one…”

and the both of you watch as the pretty glistening ball that was slow drops near the colored bright lights of the new year display upon the tower. it was so heavenly to witness. you could only imagine what it’d be like to see the ball drop in person with nanami. perhaps another year though.

“happy new year, sweetheart.” he hums, breaking you away from your thoughts. he makes you face him with a swift finger or two—bringing your chin to look up at him before bringing you into a sweet and passionate kiss.

your eyes fluttered before closing, planting your hands down against his broad shoulders, you returned the kiss with such passion. a teeny smile could be felt against nanami’s lips as he pressed his mouth against yours — he was so sweet and precise, gently raising your head up just a bit.

the music of the tv played in the background, every saying their goodbyes and happy new years, and it’s a good minute before nanami pulls away — and, it’s an understatement to say that he’s just a little flustered.

“first kiss of the year. we should take a picture to remember this by,” and then he playfully runs a hand down his hair, speaking in a near gruff tone. “perhaps even make this a little tradition?”

“how should we pose?” you shyly say, making him sit back down against the couch—and he’s all snuggled up against you, a arm slinging around your waist as you turned the polaroid camera backwards so the lens could face the both of you.

nanami shrugs before raising his brows. “you can always um.. kiss my cheek, my dear.”

“okay.” you giggle.

you position yourself and nanami to a good enough angle for the camera to reach. with a swift few clicks of your thumb, you toggle the button towards the option to snap a picture and within three seconds—you quickly scoot in to press a soft kiss against his cheek, he flashes a cute grin and click.

within a few seconds, the picture exits out of the camera, yet it’s not developed.

“i bet we look great.” he hums, lightly moving you close towards his chest to plant a chaste kiss against the tip of your forehead.

and nanami was right. the both of you did. you both looked so happy, so full of joy, yet most importantly, so full of love. so full of attachment, need, and just…love. the way you were nestled up against nanami, your lips gently pressed against the right side of his cheek.

nanami’s right eye was open — his other eye was closed, a subtle wink at the camera, he always knew how to charm.

although after about a good fifteen minutes, the picture finished developing. actually, it’s been developed.

for years now.

it was the start of a new year again, and you decided to treat yourself on a nice vacation. to clear your head, take some time to yourself and all. you still had your camera. it’s stuck with you ever since.

malaysia, it was so pretty.

“he would have loved it here.” you sighed, slipping your fingers into your wallet to find that polaroid picture from those few years ago. you frowned a bit at the sight of it starting to develop a bit of crinkles but it was still in good condition.

your eyes stared down at the picture, of you kissing nanami on the cheek, him winking with an arm locked around your waist, and you could just hear his chuckle and his voice. “did you take the picture yet, sweetheart?”

the more you stared to reminisce, the more you sniffled. you didn’t wanna come to the bitter realization—the truth that you were still in grieve. nanami wasn’t here with you in malaysia simply because he was…gone.

it was a touch pill to swallow, but he went out people. that put you at somewhat of ease, right?

no it didn’t.

a sigh left your mouth as you brought your fingers up towards your face to wipe your incoming tears, the various droplets that suddenly fell onto the nearly crumbled up polaroid of your one and only loved, nanami kento.

“happy…happy new year, kento. i’ll make sure to take lots of pictures in malaysia. just for you. i love you..”

[chiyuuchu]

Can u do a bakugou best friend with reader (but he likes her….)

I. so close yet so far <3 (5th August 2024)

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Prompt! The all time favorite of best friends to lovers trope

a/n my first ever ask! I’m so happy!!

second part here!

Bakugou Katsuki had known Y/N since they were kids. They had grown up together, attended the same schools, and now, they were both students at U.A. High. Their bond was strong, forged through countless shared experiences, secrets, and laughter. Y/N was bubbly, carefree, and had a quirk that matched her personality perfectly—Bubble. She could create bubbles that could either imprison people or objects or explode with a force that rivaled Bakugou’s own explosive quirk.

Bakugou, on the other hand, was intense, driven, and fiercely protective of Y/N. Somewhere along the way, his feelings for her had evolved from mere friendship to something deeper. But he kept these feelings buried, afraid that confessing might ruin the perfect relationship they already had.

Their classmates often saw them together, and it wasn't long before they started to notice Bakugou's subtle affections.

"Dude, have you ever noticed how Bakugou is always with Y/N?" Kaminari whispered to Kirishima one day during lunch.

Kirishima nodded. "Yeah, it's pretty obvious he's got a thing for her. But I don't think Y/N has a clue."

"Well, they're best friends," Mina added, joining the conversation. "But do best friends really sleep together all the time and share clothes?"

The trio watched as Y/N bounced over to Bakugou, wearing one of his old t-shirts. She greeted him with a bright smile, and he responded with a rare, genuine smile of his own.

As the days passed, Bakugou’s friends became more convinced that he had feelings for Y/N. They decided to subtly encourage him to confess, but Bakugou was torn. He valued their friendship too much to risk losing it.

One evening, the Bakusquad was hanging out in the common room, and the conversation turned to relationships.

"Bakugou, do you like anyone?" Mina asked, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Bakugou scoffed. "None of your business, Pinky."

Kirishima nudged him playfully. "Come on, man. You can tell us. We’re your friends."

Bakugou hesitated, glancing at Y/N, who was laughing with Jirou across the room. He sighed internally, feeling the weight of his secret crush.

"It's complicated," he muttered. "I don't want to mess things up."

Kaminari leaned in, whispering, "But do you really think Y/N doesn't feel the same way? She spends so much time with you. Maybe she’s just waiting for you to make the first move."

Bakugou clenched his fists, frustration boiling inside him. He knew his friends were right, but the fear of ruining their friendship held him back.

Later that night, Bakugou found himself outside Y/N's dorm room. She opened the door, her face lighting up when she saw him.

"Hey, Katsuki! What’s up?"

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "We need to talk."

Y/N’s smile faded slightly, replaced by a look of concern. "Is everything okay?"

Bakugou took a deep breath, his heart pounding. "Yeah, it’s just... I need to tell you something important."

Y/N sat down on her bed, patting the spot next to her. "Okay, I’m listening."

Bakugou sat down, struggling to find the right words. "We've been best friends for a long time, right?"

Y/N nodded, her eyes wide with curiosity. "Of course. You’re my best friend, Katsuki."

He looked into her eyes, feeling a mixture of fear and hope. "Yeah, and that's the problem. I don’t want to mess things up."

Y/N looked confused. "Mess things up? What do you mean?"

Bakugou glanced around the room, feeling the pressure build. He had the perfect opportunity, but his nerves got the best of him.

"I... I just wanted to say thanks. For always being there for me," he said quickly, standing up. "You know, I don’t say it enough."

Y/N smiled, relief washing over her face. "Oh, Katsuki. You know I'll always be here for you. You don’t have to thank me."

Bakugou nodded, avoiding her gaze. "Yeah, well... I should get going. Training and all."

Y/N stood up, giving him a quick hug. "Take care, Katsuki."

He left her room, cursing himself for not taking the chance. But as he walked back to his own dorm, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had made the right choice. For now, their friendship would remain as it was—strong, unbroken, and precious.

Late at night in the quiet of the U.A. dorms, Bakugou Katsuki lay in his bed, drifting between sleep and wakefulness. The room was dark, illuminated only by the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains. Just as he was about to slip into a deeper sleep, he heard a soft knock on his door.

"Katsuki?" came a trembling voice from the other side. "Are you awake?"

Bakugou immediately recognized the voice. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Yeah, come in."

The door creaked open, revealing Y/N standing there with a worried expression. She hesitated for a moment before stepping inside, closing the door behind her.

"What's wrong?" Bakugou asked, concern lacing his voice.

"I... I had a nightmare," Y/N admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I couldn't sleep, and I didn’t want to be alone."

Bakugou's heart softened. He patted the space next to him on the bed. "Come here."

Y/N walked over and climbed into his bed, nestling close to him. Bakugou wrapped his arms around her, holding her gently. He could feel her trembling, her breath shaky.

"You're safe now," he murmured, stroking her hair. "It was just a dream."

Y/N nodded, taking comfort in his presence. "Thank you, Katsuki. You're always here for me."

Bakugou tightened his hold on her, trying to ignore the pang of longing in his chest. "Of course, I am. I'll always be here for you."

Y/N snuggled closer, her breathing slowly evening out. "You're the best friend ever, Katsuki. I don’t know what I’d do without you."

Bakugou forced a smile, even though she couldn't see it. "Yeah... best friend."

As Y/N drifted back to sleep, Bakugou stared at the ceiling, his mind racing. He wanted to tell her how much she meant to him, how his feelings for her went far beyond friendship. But as he held her close, he realized that, for now, just being there for her was enough.

"Sleep well, Y/N," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "I'll always protect you."

Bakugou stood at the edge of the training field, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched Y/N and Uraraka spar. Y/N’s quirk, Bubble Burst, created shimmering, iridescent bubbles that floated around her, each one capable of popping into small explosions or trapping her opponent. Uraraka was giving it her all, using her Zero Gravity quirk to dodge and counter, but it was clear Y/N was holding her own.

Bakugou's eyes never left Y/N. He watched as she skillfully manipulated her bubbles, creating an almost mesmerizing display of light and color. Her face was lit up with determination, her movements fluid and confident. She was strong, capable, and everything he admired in a hero.

Yet, despite the pride swelling in his chest, there was an ache deep inside him. She was right there, so close, yet she felt so far out of reach. Every time she laughed or smiled, he felt his heart clench with the weight of unspoken words.

Uraraka managed to float over a particularly large bubble, giving Y/N a playful grin. "You're really good at this, Y/N! I can barely keep up!"

Y/N laughed, her eyes sparkling. "Thanks, Ochaco! You've gotten faster too!"

Bakugou clenched his fists, trying to suppress the torrent of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. He wanted to be the one sparring with her, the one making her laugh, the one she turned to when she needed support. But every time he thought about telling her how he felt, the fear of ruining what they had held him back.

He watched as Y/N created a series of bubbles that surrounded Uraraka, who quickly floated out of their reach, laughing. Y/N’s expression was one of pure joy and concentration, and it took everything in Bakugou to not march over there and pull her into his arms.

"Hey, Bakugou!" Kirishima called from behind him, pulling him out of his thoughts. "You okay? You've been staring pretty hard."

Bakugou turned to face his friend, his usual scowl in place. "I'm fine, idiot. Just making sure they’re training right."

Kirishima raised an eyebrow, but didn’t press the issue. "Alright, if you say so. Wanna join in?"

Bakugou shook his head. "Not right now."

As Kirishima walked away, Bakugou turned his attention back to Y/N. She was closer now, laughing with Uraraka as they took a break from sparring. Her laughter was like a melody he could never tire of, and her smile was the light in his often-dark world.

All he ever wanted was right in front of him, yet he couldn’t bring himself to reach out and take it. The distance between them wasn’t measured in steps, but in unspoken words and unshared feelings.

One day, maybe, he’d find the courage to bridge that gap. But for now, he would remain where he was, watching her from afar, content with the knowledge that she was happy.

Even if it meant his own heart ached with the weight of longing.

The semester break had finally arrived, and Y/N found herself at the Bakugou residence, a place that felt like a second home. Mitsuki Bakugou, Katsuki’s mother, greeted her with a warm hug as she walked through the door.

“Y/N! It’s been too long!” Mitsuki beamed. “Come in, come in! We’re just setting the table for dinner.”

Y/N smiled, feeling the familiar comfort of the Bakugou household. “Thank you, Mitsuki. It’s great to be here.”

Katsuki’s father, Masaru, gave her a gentle nod as she entered the dining room. “Welcome, Y/N. It’s always a pleasure to have you here.”

Dinner was lively, filled with laughter and reminiscing about old times. Mitsuki loved teasing Katsuki, and tonight was no different. As they finished their meal and settled into the living room, Mitsuki’s curiosity got the better of her.

“So, Y/N,” Mitsuki began with a mischievous grin, “have you got any crushes at school?”

Y/N blushed, shaking her head. “No, not really. I’m not interested in anyone right now. I’m happy just having Katsuki around.”

Katsuki, who was sipping his drink, nearly choked. He tried to hide his flustered reaction, but his reddening ears gave him away. Mitsuki laughed, patting Y/N on the back.

“That’s sweet,” she said. “You two have always been close.”

Later that night, after the lights were dimmed and the house had settled into a comfortable silence, Katsuki found himself wide awake. Y/N was fast asleep in his bed, and he couldn’t stop thinking about his feelings for her. He slipped out of the room quietly, heading to the kitchen for a glass of water, only to find his father there, sipping tea at the table.

“Can’t sleep?” Masaru asked, looking up at his son.

Katsuki sighed, sitting down across from him. “Yeah, something like that.”

Masaru took another sip of his tea before speaking. “You know, Katsuki, it’s clear you care about Y/N a lot. If you really like her, you should tell her.”

Katsuki looked away, his fists clenching slightly. “What if she doesn’t feel the same? I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

Masaru gave him a gentle, understanding look. “You can’t control her feelings, son. But you owe it to yourself to be honest. If she doesn’t feel the same way, she won’t abandon you. You’ve been friends for too long. She values you, just as you value her.”

Katsuki sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just... hard.”

“I know it is,” Masaru said softly. “But you’re strong, Katsuki. And no matter what happens, you’ll get through it.”

Katsuki nodded, feeling a bit more resolved. “Thanks, Dad.”

As he headed back to his room, he paused at the door, watching Y/N sleep peacefully in his bed. He knew he needed to tell her how he felt, but for now, he was content to let her rest, to savor these quiet moments of just being close.

He climbed back into bed carefully, lying down beside her. As he watched her breathe softly, he thought about his father’s words. Maybe one day, he’d find the courage to tell her. But for now, he’d cherish what they had, hoping that when the time came, he’d be ready to take that leap.

Late one evening, Bakugou lay sprawled on his bed, absently scrolling through the 1A group chat. His thumb paused over a string of messages from the girls:

Ochaco: "Did you hear? Some guy from Class 1B asked Y/N out!"

Mina: "Omg, I know! Do you think she went?"

Jirou: "She didn't mention anything to me. Maybe she kept it a secret."

Hagakure: "Why would she keep it a secret? This is huge news!"

Bakugou's grip tightened on his phone. Why hadn't Y/N told him? They always shared everything. Well, almost everything. His mind raced, picturing Y/N on a date with some random guy. The thought gnawed at him, unsettling him in ways he couldn't quite understand.

He tossed his phone aside and lay back, glaring at the ceiling. "Stupid," he muttered under his breath, reaching for his headphones and queuing up his playlist of intense, brooding music. As the heavy beats filled his ears, he tried to drown out his thoughts, but they only grew louder, replaying every interaction he'd had with Y/N over the years.

Hours later, just as he was about to drift into a fitful sleep, his door burst open. Y/N stood there, slightly out of breath, a puzzled look on her face.

"Katsuki, what's wrong? Why are you listening to this... emo music?" she asked, stepping into his room.

He sat up abruptly, pulling off his headphones. "How was your date?" he blurted out, his tone sharper than he intended.

Y/N blinked, clearly taken aback. "Date? What are you talking about?"

"The guy from Class 1B," Bakugou said, trying to keep his voice steady. "You know, the one who asked you out."

Y/N tilted her head, genuinely confused. "Oh, that. I didn't go."

Bakugou shot up from his bed, his shock evident. "Why not?"

She shrugged casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I don't know. It's hard to find someone compatible with me, I guess."

Bakugou stared at her, his emotions a whirlwind of relief and confusion. "You... didn't want to go?"

Y/N shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "Nope. I'd rather spend my time with people I care about. Like you."

Bakugou felt a weight lift off his chest, but he couldn't let his guard down completely. He scoffed, trying to mask his relief. "You're such a pain, you know that?"

Y/N laughed, moving closer and plopping down on the edge of his bed. "Yeah, but you wouldn't have it any other way."

He couldn't help but smirk, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah. Just don't keep stuff from me, okay?"

She nodded, her eyes sincere. "Promise."

As they settled into a comfortable silence, Bakugou felt a newfound sense of hope. Maybe one day, he’d find the courage to tell her how he really felt. But for now, he was content to just have her by his side.

The next day, Bakugou found himself sitting with the Bakusquad in the common room. Kirishima, Kaminari, Mina, Sero, and Jirou were lounging around, chatting about their latest training sessions. But as soon as Bakugou entered the room, their attention shifted.

Kirishima grinned, nudging Bakugou with his elbow. "Hey, man. How’s it going with Y/N?"

Bakugou rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair. "We're best friends, nothing more. It can't go anywhere."

The group exchanged concerned glances. Mina was the first to speak up, her tone gentle but firm. "Dude, since nobody is gonna say it then I will. You do realise that best friends don’t casually do the things you two do."

Kaminari nodded in agreement. "Yeah, like sleeping over all the time in the same bed, sharing clothes, spending every second together…"

Sero raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. "You two are practically inseparable."

Jirou leaned forward, her expression serious. "Have you ever considered that maybe she feels the same way about you?"

Bakugou's eyes narrowed. "We’re just best friends. She said she’s not interested in anyone."

Mina sighed, crossing her arms. "People don’t just do all those things with someone they don’t have feelings for. You’re special to her, Bakugou."

Kirishima put a hand on Bakugou’s shoulder, his voice earnest. "You need to be honest with yourself, man. Don’t let fear hold you back."

Bakugou stared at his friends, their words swirling in his mind. He knew they were right, but the fear of losing Y/N’s friendship if she didn’t feel the same way was too much to bear.

"We’ve been best friends our whole lives," Bakugou muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t want to ruin that."

Jirou gave him a sympathetic look. "But what if you’re missing out on something even better?"

The room fell silent as Bakugou contemplated their words. He knew he needed to figure this out, for his sake and Y/N’s. But for now, he would have to gather the courage to take that first step.

The dorms were buzzing with excitement as the girls of Class 1-A gathered for a girls' night. Mina, Jirou, Ochaco, Tsuyu, Momo, Hagakure, and Y/N were settled in Y/N’s room, surrounded by snacks, blankets, and the latest gossip.

After a lot of giggling and chatting about their latest adventures and crushes, Mina leaned forward, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "So, Y/N, do you like anyone?"

Y/N shook her head, smiling softly. "I’m not really interested in dating right now. I’m fine with just having my best friend, Bakugou."

Jirou raised an eyebrow. "Really? No one has caught your eye?"

Y/N shrugged. "It’s hard to find someone who’s the same standard as him. He’s...special."

Mina exchanged a knowing look with Jirou before asking, "Why not just go for Bakugou then?"

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. "We’re just best friends."

Before she could say anything else, Hagakure chimed in, her voice filled with curiosity. "But best friends don’t usually do what you two do. You know, like sleeping over all the time in the same bed, sharing clothes, and more things I could add to the list."

Ochaco nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it sounds like there's more there than just friendship."

Tsuyu added, "Maybe what you’ve been looking for is right beside you."

Y/N blinked, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. "I... I never really thought about it like that."

Y/N found herself unable to focus. The words from last night’s conversation with the girls echoed in her mind. She sat on the sidelines, watching Bakugou spar with Kirishima. His movements were precise, his strength and determination evident in every punch and kick. She couldn't help but notice how well they complemented each other, how perfect he seemed.

As she watched, she found herself checking him out, admiring his toned muscles and the intensity in his eyes. A blush crept up her cheeks as she realized she was thinking about Bakugou in a way she never had before.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice Izuku approaching until he spoke. "Y/N, are you okay?"

Startled, she jumped slightly and turned to face him. "Oh, Izuku! You scared me." Izuku Midoriya was another one of her childhood friends whom she grew up with along with Bakugou.

Izuku gave her a concerned look. "Sorry about that. You seemed really deep in thought. Is everything alright?"

Y/N nodded, trying to shake off her flustered state. "Yeah, I’m fine. Just...thinking."

Izuku raised an eyebrow. "About what?"

Y/N glanced back at Bakugou, who was still sparring with Kirishima, and sighed. "Just...stuff."

Izuku followed her gaze and then looked back at her, a knowing smile forming on his lips. "Does this 'stuff' have anything to do with Kacchan?"

Y/N’s blush deepened, and she looked away. "Maybe."

Izuku chuckled softly. "You know, you two have always had something special. Maybe it’s time you both saw it too."

Izuku’s smile grew softer as he noticed Y/N’s reaction. “You know, Kacchan always been fond of you,” he said casually, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Y/N turned to him, her eyes widening in surprise. “What do you mean?”

Izuku looked thoughtful for a moment before continuing. “I’ve known you both for a long time, and I’ve seen how he’s always been there for you. Even when we were kids, he would get really protective of you. It’s like he always wanted to make sure you were safe and happy.”

Y/N blinked, absorbing his words. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Izuku nodded. “He never says much about his feelings, but he’s always been the first one to help when you needed it. He just never lets his guard down, so it’s easy to miss. But I’ve noticed.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered at the thought. “I had no idea. I always thought he was just being his usual abrasive self.”

Izuku chuckled. “That’s his way of showing he cares. He might act tough, but he’s got a big heart, especially when it comes to you. You’ve always been important to him.”

Y/N glanced back at Bakugou, who was finishing up his sparring match. Her thoughts were racing, piecing together the moments they had shared over the years in a new light. “Maybe I should talk to him.”

Izuku smiled encouragingly. “I think that’s a good idea. Just remember, it’s okay to be open about your feelings too.”

Y/N nodded, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement. “Thanks, Izuku. I’ll think about it.”

Izuku gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Anytime. Good luck.”

As the days went by, the rest of Class 1-A couldn’t help but notice Y/N’s noticeably different behavior around Bakugou. It started subtly but quickly became apparent to everyone.

Mina, always quick to pick up on changes, nudged Kirishima during lunch. “Hey, have you noticed Y/N and Bakugou lately?”

Kirishima glanced over at the two. Y/N was laughing at something Bakugou said, a genuine, warm smile on her face. Bakugou, for once, seemed less gruff and more at ease. “Yeah, I see what you mean. They’ve been talking a lot more and… she looks really happy around him.”

Jirou, who was sitting nearby with her headphones around her neck, added, “I noticed that too. Y/N’s always been close with Bakugou, but recently, it’s like she’s more… attentive? I don’t know how to describe it.”

Hagakure, who was peering curiously from behind a book, chimed in, “And Bakugou’s not being his usual loud self around her. He’s actually listening to what she says and even laughing.”

Momo, who had been quietly observing, nodded thoughtfully. “It’s as if there’s a new dynamic between them. I wonder if something happened?”

As they continued to discuss, Y/N and Bakugou finished their conversation and walked toward their seats. Y/N’s face was slightly flushed, and Bakugou had a rare, relaxed smile.

Mina leaned over to Kirishima. “I bet something’s going on. We should find out what’s up.”

Kirishima grinned. “Definitely. It looks like our two friends might be getting closer. And judging by the way they’re acting, I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s something more going on.”

Jirou laughed softly. “I think you’re right. It’s about time they figured it out.”

As Y/N and Bakugou settled into their seats, the rest of Class 1-A exchanged knowing glances, eager to see where this new development would lead.

[raysrays]

Crimson Guardian NSFW

Kyojuro Rengoku x Wife! Reader

18+ MDNI!🚫

CW: NSFW Content, minor angst, controlling/manipulating behavior, fluff-ish.

Y/N POV

Scenario : You've recently married into the respected Rengoku family, and while you continue your work as a demon slayer, life starts to get a bit messy. Balancing your duties becomes a real challenge as you navigate the challenges of married life. You find yourself having to make tough choices just to keep your husband happy, all while debating to stay true to yourself and your calling as a demon slayer.

Marriage. Truly one of the most beautiful milestones a couple can achieve. Marrying Kyojuro has undoubtedly been my greatest accomplishment.

I still remember it vividly, as if it were yesterday. Surrounded by friends, family, and core members, we pledged our lives to each other. Though it wasn't the most glamorous wedding ever seen, it was enough. Because really, all I've ever wanted was Kyojuro, and now, finally, I have him.

For the first few months, our marriage was nothing short of perfect. I moved into the Rengoku estate with Kyojuro's family, assisting Shenjuro with chores and gradually trying to get closer to Shinjuro. Though I'm not sure how successful I was.

It was only six months in that I realized being a demon slayer and a wife wasn't as easy as I thought.

Before our relationship, I was Kyojuro's Tsuguko. He was simply my mentor, and I trained hard under him to get myself where I am today. It was later down the road that we noticed each other's lingering gazes, the occasional flirting, and all the other subtle hints of wanting to be more.

Kyojuro was strong, and I knew he wanted a family, but I simply wasn't ready to give up training and my duties as a demon slayer just yet.

Every day, after helping out around the estate, I would hike over to HQ and pick up where I had left off the previous day, training until the late hours of the night. I would often come home exhausted, which usually caused Kyojuro to worry. As much as I reassured him, he never seemed fully convinced.

Now, here I was, sitting at the dinner table with Kyo across from me. It was a rare occasion for us to eat alone together like this. We made small talk about our day and training, and then he finally stopped eating and put his silverware down.

"Little Flame, I think it’s time we have a serious discussion about the way things have been as of late,” his usual happy smile seemed almost nervous.

I set my spoon down on my plate, giving him my full attention.

“Yes? What is it?”

“Sunflower, you have been working so hard as of late, and it’s quite admirable. I truly admire your dedication to the demon slayer corps and your training!”

“But…?” I ask, confused.

“But… since our marriage, I’ve found myself in constant worry over you. Every time you go on a mission without me, I have to painfully wait for your return. Not knowing whether or not you'd be injured or even-“

“Dead?” I finish.

I saw his body tense up at the word.

“Yes, my love. Dead. I cannot even bear the thought of you never returning to me. It pains me to my core,” he seemed so sad, so worried about me.

I know Kyojuro, I know he didn’t mean anything bad by what he was saying. However, I felt almost offended. He too was a slayer, a hashira. I also had to deal with the fear of him returning with serious injuries or even never returning at all.

Did he believe me to be incapable of protecting myself? He was the very one who trained me. Even though I knew Kyojuro was strong, much stronger than me, it just felt like he lacked faith in me.

“You don’t think I’m strong enough anymore? Do you think marriage has made me soft?” I realized I might have come off a little too harsh, but my emotions were getting the best of me.

His expression seemed surprised, but I could tell. While he may not have used those words, that was definitely the gist of it.

I watched him get up from his place at the table and walk over to me. He pulled my chair out from under the table, then grabbed my hands and kneeled down in front of me.

His big, bright eyes were now staring up at me.

“You are one of the strongest people I know, my love. I know how capable you are, but please remember…”

He brought my hands to his lips, kissing them softly.

“You are my wife before you are a demon slayer. I cannot risk sending you off only for you to never return.”

I could practically hear the desperation and love in his voice.

Kyojuro wasn’t someone who would usually discourage anyone from pursuing something they're passionate about. So if he was now, I knew that it’s something he’s been internally battling with for a while.

“What about you? Is it not the same? What about my worry? What if you never come home to me?” I could feel my face start to heat up. Everything he was saying seemed to come from genuine care, but it felt so hypocritical.

“I am a Hashira, my little flame. I have a certain responsibility you do not have to burden yourself with. I shall retire soon, in just a few years. So please…”

There’s no way he’d ask me-

“Please retire your sword, Y/N. Please stay home for me. Please allow my heart to rest easy knowing you'll be here waiting for me whenever I shall return,” his voice was pleading.

I felt so conflicted. I’d worked so hard. All of these years of training to hopefully become a high-ranking swordsman myself. However, at the same time, I never stopped to consider my romantic life and how being married would affect things.

We both sat there in silence for a few moments, and I finally rose up from the chair, pulling him up off his knees along with me.

I looked up at him, reaching my hand up to rest on his cheek.

“Kyojuro, you are the only one I would retire my sword for. So please promise me, promise me you will always come home to me. Until the day you yourself retire.”

“I promise you, Sunflower. As long as I know you are safe and waiting for me, there is no demon that could ever keep me away.”

I felt his hand on my lower back and the other holding up my chin.

We both leaned in, our lips meeting in a tender kiss.

This kiss started so gently, so lovingly at first. As we pulled away for just a moment, staring into each other’s eyes, we realized how long it had been since we really enjoyed each other’s company.

After that, the kiss only grew hotter and more passionate.

Kyojuro swept me off my feet and carried me straight to our shared room at the back of the estate, the most private spot. It seemed fitting for newlyweds, after all.

As he gently laid me back on the soft futon, I couldn't help but stay focused on him. Kyojuro was simply beautiful. His hair, his eyes, his body, everything about him looked like he was perfectly sculpted.

My admiration was interrupted as I felt him begin to kiss me again. One of his hands traveling to my breasts, gently squeezing it.

The other massaging my thigh.

I feel him pull away from me starting to kiss on my neck traveling all the way down to my chest.

Kyojuro had always known my weak points and how to make me say yes to his every request. He knew my body just as well as I did, and now he was taking full advantage of that knowledge.

I could feel him pressing against me as he moved his hand down my body, lightly touching me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer to me, wanting more.

Then I heard, Kyojuro's soft voice whisper these words, almost as a demand. "Enjoy this little flame, you've kept me waiting far too long.”

As soon as those words left his lips, I felt myself begin to relax. His movements were so gentle, so careful, so loving.

His fingers trailed down my sides, sending chills through my body. His hands went back up and caressed my neck, making me tremble. He kissed me once more, and I melted into him.

It was as if he had cast a spell over me, and all I could do was obey him. He was completely in control of me.

After a moment, I felt him move back down and remove my underwear, revealing my already wet entrance. His hand slid between my thighs, and I couldn't help but let out a moan as his finger slipped inside me. He was gentle at first, just barely grazing me, but it felt incredible.

"Is this okay?" he asked softly, his breath hot against my ear.

I nodded but I could tell that wasn’t enough for him.

“Use your words my love.” He demanded sweetly.

“Yes Kyo, it’s perfect.” I said, my voice trembling.

He leaned down and kissed my lips before pulling back again, smiling at me.

"I want to be inside of you," he whispered, his voice filled with desire.

"Please," I begged.

He removed his fingers, replacing them with his cock, his tip rubbing against my clit.

"Good girl," he whispered, thrusting into me.

I threw back my head, arching my back and digging my nails into his shoulders. His movements were slow and deep at first and then they became faster and harder, and soon my whole body began to shake. I couldn't stop the moans from escaping my lips, and I couldn't help but beg for more.

When he starts to speed up I know we are both about to reach our limit.

I feel his fingers interlock with mine and his lips pressing against mine again, but this time, he wasn’t just kissing me, he was also letting his teeth graze my bottom lip.

He was biting down hard enough to draw blood.

We were both so close and we were both trying to hold back but we couldn’t anymore. We were finally going to let ourselves release.

I was the first one to let myself go, arching my back as I moaned his name.

Then he followed not too far behind.

After he finishes, we just lay there for a bit catching our breath.

“I love you, Y/N,” he finally breathed out, turning his head to look at me.

I turned to face him as well. “I love you, Kyojuro.”

After that, the two of us drifted off in each other's arms for the rest of the night.

The next morning when I awoke, I was still trapped wrapped in Kyojuro's arms.

After a bit of struggling, I managed to maneuver my way out and make it to the kitchen.

There I saw Senjuro, who was already preparing breakfast for everyone.

“Good morning, Sen,” I greeted with a yawn.

“Oh, good morning, Y/N!”

“I'm almost finished with breakfast. Is my brother awake yet?”

“He should be awake soon. We both have to see Master Kagaya today,” I said, rubbing my eyes.

He stopped to turn and look at me.

“Did something bad happen?” he asked nervously.

Poor Senjuro always assumes the absolute worst in every situation. Well, I suppose in this case it’s somewhat understandable.

“No, Sen, nothing's wrong. Kyojuro and I are just going to inform Master Kagaya of my retirement. That’s all.”

He gave a puzzled look.

“Retirement? Why? Haven’t you been training for years to improve your sword skills to move up in the ranks?” he asked.

He was right. I know I shouldn’t go back on my word to Kyojuro, but I really was having second thoughts about my decision.

Senjuro could probably sense my doubt because his next response was:

"If this is something that you're not sure of, then you shouldn't do it. If you have doubts about this decision, then maybe you're not ready for retirement just yet."

His words really struck a chord with me.

Maybe he was right.

Before I could ponder that any further, Kyojuro had made his way into the kitchen.

"Good morning! How are my two favorite people doing?" he said cheerfully.

I smiled.

"Morning, Kyo. Did you sleep well?"

"I did, actually. Thank you, little flame," he walked over to me, giving me a kiss.

I could feel my chest tightening, nervous about what was to come.

The whole time at breakfast, I felt so spaced out. All I could hear was Kyojuro and Senjuro talking and the occasional grunt from Shinjuro drinking away at the table.

“Sunflower? Are you okay?”

I was snapped out of my daze by Kyojuro waving a hand in front of my face. All three of them were staring at me, kind of concerned.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Sorry.”

I shook my head a little and looked down at my plate. I felt bad for Senjuro going through all that trouble to cook, but I simply couldn’t eat right now.

After we finished breakfast, Kyojuro and I headed out.

The thought that this would be the last time wearing my uniform with my sword by my side was so weird and almost uncomfortable to me.

I knew that this day would come eventually, but I always hoped in the back of my mind that Kyojuro would be the one to retire before me.

I had been so focused on training and my duties as a demon slayer that it had never even occurred to me how my marriage would affect everything.

I was now a wife. My first priority should be the estate, and helping Shinjuro while he was in his state of grief, and being there for Senjuro as well.

It wouldn’t be right of me to go against my husband's wishes either. Especially after the intimate moment we shared. Right?

As we made it to HQ waiting to speak with the master I felt my heartbeat racing inside of me.

The room was quiet, I could feel Kyojuro’s eyes lingering on me but I couldn’t bring myself to face him right now.

Both mine and Kyojuro’s attention was shifted as we heard the door open and Master Kagaya entered the room.

"Rengoku, Y/N. It's a pleasure to see you both," Kagaya said, his face as warm as ever.

"It's wonderful to see you too, Master," I replied.

"So what brings you two here? It seems urgent, judging by the fact that you came in so early."

"It is very urgent," Kyojuro began.

He then proceeded to explain our conversation from the night before, and how I was considering retiring.

"Y/N, this is a big decision, and it's important that you feel comfortable and confident in it. Do you think you can fully retire, knowing you won't be able to assist the demon slayers as you are now?" Kagaya asked.

I looked at the master and then glanced at Kyojuro. He seemed so proud and happy that we were here. I could feel the warmth radiating from him.

But, I could also sense the worry in his expression. He was nervous, scared almost.

I couldn't do that to him.

"Master, I've spent most of my life training for the opportunity to become a hashira. To serve the demon slayer corps and protect those who cannot protect themselves. But...I'm no longer just a demon slayer. I'm also a wife, and as such, I think it's only right that I focus on that," I answered.

The room fell silent for a moment.

"If you truly feel this is the right choice, then we support you, Y/N," Kagaya finally spoke.

"Thank you, Master," I bowed.

"Thank you so much, Master! I will never

forget your kindness!" Kyojuro bowed as well.

The two of us left the room and started to head out.

As we exited, we ran into a few of the other Hashira, who asked us about what we had gone to see Master Kagaya about.

They too seemed surprised and a little concerned when Kyojuro explained to them that I would be retiring so soon.

I could tell some of their reactions to the news annoyed Kyojuro. Shinobu used the word “controlling,” and you could see his smile almost falter.

"Controlling" was never a word I would have used to describe my husband. He just loves me, right? He wants to protect me. There's no way my sweet and kind Kyo would ever do anything to control or manipulate me.

Right?

Part Two

[simplygojo]

The Devil He Made Me - Ch. 2

Authors Note: Hello lovely people! I am very eagerly working on this series, so here is chapter 2 for you, much earlier than I had promised, but I can’t resist!! I hope you enjoy this! Many many more parts to come! :)

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f/reader

Series Summary : After being found by Gojo and his first year students in a sticky situation, y/n joins Jujutsu High under the close supervision of Gojo. As time passes, the two of you become close, with a strong unspoken bond forming as you work together. Although, there is something dark looming over the situation, and those at Jujutsu High are determined to get to the bottom of it, before it is too late.

Chapter Summary : Since settling into your new role as ‘helper’ at Jujutsu High, you have gotten to know the people there quite well. With Gojo’s attention still notably fixed on you, people begin to notice. But more importantly, Gojo has decided he wants you doing more than just playing ‘helper’, so he makes you his student.

Word Count : 4.6k

Warnings : none (for this chapter, wink wink), just some fluff and some slight seggsual tension ;)

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A few days had passed since the tests confirmed your innocence, and Gojo continued to check up on you almost every day. It had become something of a routine—he’d stroll into the common area, sometimes during a break from his other duties, finding you with a book in hand. At first, you’d offer a small smile and return to your reading, but over time, those brief encounters stretched into longer moments of conversation.

Gojo, though always quick with a teasing remark or playful grin, seemed to let his guard down just a little more around you. His relaxed posture, the way he lingered near you, and the almost lazy drawl of his voice—it felt like he was more at ease when it was just the two of you. Sometimes you weren’t sure if he even realized it, or if it was intentional. Still, his presence had become a constant in the otherwise unfamiliar environment of Jujutsu High.

You spent your days helping out wherever you could. You weren’t a sorcerer, not by any formal training, but there were small tasks around the school—organizing supplies, preparing training areas, or running errands for the students and teachers. It made you feel useful, even if there was still a nagging sense of uncertainty about your place here.

The first-years had quickly became a part of your routine as well. Yuji’s boundless energy made him easy to talk to, and his enthusiasm often lifted your spirits when you felt a little lost. Nobara, sharp and confident, made you feel like you belonged, even if she didn’t say it outright. Megumi, ever the quiet observer, wasn’t as talkative, but he would always give a nod of acknowledgment whenever your paths crossed.

It was Gojo, though, who seemed to always find time to check-in. And one day, after watching you help Yuji in the training area, he approached you with a new suggestion.

“You know,” Gojo began, his voice as casual as ever, “you could be a bit more useful if you learned how to use your cursed energy.”

You blinked at him, surprised by the bluntness of his words. “More useful?” you repeated, unsure if you should be offended or if this was just Gojo’s typical way of speaking.

He grinned, leaning back against a nearby wall, arms crossed over his chest. “Yeah. I mean, it’s not like you have a lot of cursed energy, but there’s enough for me to teach you the basics.”

You hesitated, glancing down at your hands. You had always been able to see curses, a fact that had never really made sense to you, but you had no real knowledge of cursed energy, let alone how to use it. “Why would I need to learn? I’m not a sorcerer.”

Gojo’s grin didn’t falter, but there was something in his tone, a subtle shift when he answered. “It’s always good to be prepared. Never know when you’ll need to defend yourself.”

You considered his words, but something about the way he was looking at you—the casual air not quite masking the intent behind his suggestion—made you wonder if there was more to it. Still, you didn’t argue.

“Alright,” you said finally, “I’ll give it a try.”

—

A few days later, the training session was set up. Gojo, Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara gathered in one of the training rooms, eager to see what you were capable of. You stood in the center, feeling a bit out of place as their eyes watched you intently. Gojo, of course, lounged against the wall, arms crossed as always, that ever-present grin on his face.

“Okay,” Gojo called out, “show us what you’ve got.”

You glanced nervously around the room. “What do you mean? I don’t know how to use cursed energy.”

Gojo pushed off the wall and sauntered over to you, his presence commanding as always. He stood just a little too close, the scent of his cologne filling the air between you. “That’s why we’re here,” he said, leaning in slightly. “To see if you’ve got any potential.”

He guided you through a few basic exercises, trying to help you focus on sensing and controlling the cursed energy within you. Despite your best efforts, though, it was clear that whatever cursed energy you had was limited, and you struggled to manifest it in any meaningful way. Gojo remained patient, though, his teasing remarks never far from the surface.

“Come on,” he said at one point, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re not trying hard enough.”

“I am!” you protested, feeling a bit flustered by his closeness and the way his blindfolded gaze seemed to pierce right through you.

He chuckled, leaning in even closer. “Then stop thinking so much and just feel it. Cursed energy flows through you—if you overthink it, you’ll block it.”

Before you could respond, Yuji interrupted with an eager question, pulling Gojo’s attention away. You let out a small breath of relief, grateful for the brief reprieve from his intense focus.

After a while, the first-years moved on to spar with the upperclassmen, leaving you and Gojo alone in the training area. He approached you again, this time more serious as he explained how cursed energy worked—how it flowed within everyone, like a current, and how it could be manipulated.

“You have to feel it,” he said, his voice low as he stepped even closer. “It’s not just about thinking or trying. You need to sense how it moves inside you.”

Gojo reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your upper arm, and you felt a jolt of something unfamiliar course through you. His touch was light, but it seemed to direct your attention inward, toward the cursed energy you could barely sense.

“Feel that?” he asked, his voice a low murmur, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. “That’s cursed energy. It’s subtle, but it’s there.”

You nodded, your focus narrowing on the sensation. It was faint, like a small current running beneath the surface, but it was there, just as he said.

“Now,” Gojo continued, stepping a little closer, “you need to guide it. Imagine it like a stream of water. You can’t force it to go where you want. You have to let it flow naturally, but give it direction.”

His words were calm and measured, and despite the strangeness of the situation—Gojo standing so close to you, his touch lingering on your arm—you found yourself concentrating. You took a deep breath and tried to follow his instructions, focusing on the subtle pulse of energy within you.

It was difficult at first. Your mind kept wandering, doubts creeping in. What if you couldn’t do it? What if you didn’t have enough cursed energy to make any real difference? But then you heard Gojo’s voice again, this time softer, almost reassuring.

“Don’t overthink it,” he said, as if reading your thoughts. “Just feel.”

You closed your eyes, shutting out the distractions around you, and focused solely on the sensation of cursed energy within you. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, you felt it begin to move, like a slow trickle of water being directed through your body.

“There you go,” Gojo’s voice was soft, and when you opened your eyes, you saw the faintest flicker of pride in his expression.

You blinked, surprised at the small success. It wasn’t much—just a slight manifestation of cursed energy—but it was more than you had managed before.

“I… I did it,” you whispered, hardly able to believe it.

Gojo grinned, that familiar smirk returning. “Told you you could.”

You couldn’t help but smile, a sense of accomplishment swelling in your chest. It wasn’t a grand victory, but it was progress, and for the first time in what felt like a long while, you allowed yourself to feel genuinely happy. You had always been able to see curses, but using cursed energy? That was something entirely different.

The moment was short-lived, though. Just as you began to revel in your small success, the door to the training area slid open, and Nanami walked in, his usual stern expression in place.

Gojo straightened, his playful demeanour shifting into something more professional. “Nanami,” he greeted, though the grin never quite left his face.

Nanami glanced between the two of you, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before addressing Gojo. “I came to check on the progress. Has there been any more information regarding the site where she was found?”

Gojo’s smile faltered, just slightly, as he shook his head. “Nope, nothing new. But y/n’s learning to use cursed energy, so we’re making progress on that front.”

Nanami’s gaze returned to you, assessing. It wasn’t unkind, but it held the weight of someone who had seen too much and knew better than to trust easily. “And what about her memory? Has there been any improvement?”

You shook your head, feeling a small knot of anxiety form in your stomach. “No… I still don’t remember anything about how I ended up there.”

Nanami frowned, his eyes narrowing slightly. “That’s concerning.”

Gojo waved a hand dismissively, stepping between the two of you as if to deflect the tension. “Hey, she’s harmless. We’ve put her through enough tests to know that by now.”

Nanami wasn’t so easily swayed. “Tests are one thing, but we still don’t know how or why she was in that area. There’s no explanation for the disappearance of the cursed energy, and we need to be thorough.”

There was a pause as Nanami’s words sank in. The weight of the situation pressed down on you, and for a moment, you felt as though you were right back in that dark forest, cold and alone. But before the anxiety could take hold, Gojo spoke again, his voice calm but firm.

“She’s telling the truth,” Gojo said, his tone leaving little room for argument. “And she barely has enough cursed energy to be dangerous. If anything, she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Nanami’s eyes flicked to Gojo, his expression unreadable. “You seem awfully sure of that.”

Gojo shrugged, his grin returning, though there was an edge to it now. “Call it a gut feeling.”

Nanami sighed, clearly not satisfied but willing to let it go for now. “Fine. But we’ll need to continue investigating. There’s too much we don’t know.”

With that, he turned and left the training area, leaving you and Gojo alone once again.

The tension in the air eased slightly as Gojo relaxed back into his usual posture, hands in his pockets, his grin firmly in place. “Don’t mind him,” he said, casting a glance at the door where Nanami had exited. “He’s always like that.”

You nodded, though the unease lingered. “Do you really think I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

Gojo’s expression softened, just a little. “Maybe. Maybe not. But either way, you’re here now, and we’ll figure it out.”

There was something in his tone that reassured you, even though the situation was far from resolved. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence settling comfortably between you.

Then, after a beat, Gojo stepped closer, his voice dropping just slightly. “Besides,” he said, his usual playfulness returning, “you’re stuck with me as your teacher now. So you might as well get used to it.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. “I guess I don’t have much of a choice.”

Gojo’s grin widened. “Exactly.”

—

Over the next few days, the training sessions continued, with Gojo always finding a reason to check in on your progress. Most of the time, he brought along Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi to participate or observe. It wasn’t unusual for him to turn these sessions into group activities, though it became clear that his focus always circled back to you.

One afternoon, you stood in the courtyard with the first-years, watching them spar. Gojo leaned against the nearby railing, arms folded over his chest, his blindfold covering his eyes but doing nothing to hide the lazy smirk on his lips. You caught his glance from the corner of your eye, but you tried not to react, focusing instead on Yuji and Megumi’s sparring.

“You’re doing fine, y/n,” Gojo whispered, though you hadn’t done anything yet. The remark earned a confused glance from Nobara, who was working on target practice nearby You shifted awkwardly on your feet, the pressure of Gojo’s attention making your pulse quicken. He had a way of drawing attention to you without even trying, as though his very presence magnified yours. You hoped no one noticed the heat creeping up your neck.

“Don’t stand there watching like a scared rabbit,” Gojo added, his gaze not shifting from Yuji and Megumi. “You’ll learn faster if you jump in.”

“I’m not exactly sure how to—” you started to say, but Gojo interrupted with a teasing grin.

“I wasn’t asking.” His tone was playful but firm. “C’mon, y/n. Show us what you’ve learned!”

Reluctantly, you stepped forward into the center of the makeshift sparring ring, your stomach tightening with nerves. Yuji stood across from you, looking slightly hesitant himself. “It’s okay if you can’t use cursed energy yet,” he said, rubbing the back of his head and smiling. “We can take it easy.”

You gave him a warm smile, but Gojo waved his hand in dismissal before you could respond. “No taking it easy. Y/n’s got potential. Right?” He turned to you, his voice taking on an uncharacteristically soft tone, just loud enough for you to hear. “Trust me, you’ll get the hang of it.”

There it was again—that strange mixture of teasing and encouragement that only Gojo seemed capable of. He was close enough now that you could feel his presence at your back, an almost tangible force urging you forward. For reasons you couldn’t quite explain, his confidence in you made your heart race, and it stirred something within you, a determination to prove yourself.

“Alright,” you muttered, more to yourself than anyone else.

Yuji shifted his stance, waiting patiently for you to make the first move. You tried to remember what Gojo had taught you about cursed energy—how it flowed like water, how you needed to guide it without forcing it. You closed your eyes briefly, focusing inward, trying to sense that elusive current within you.

“Don’t think too much,” Gojo’s voice floated to you, low and steady. “Just feel.”

You exhaled slowly, letting the tension drain from your body, and for the briefest moment, you felt it—cursed energy, faint but present, bubbling just beneath the surface. You extended your hand toward Yuji, unsure if anything would happen.

To your surprise, a small ripple of cursed energy surged forward, barely enough to affect Yuji, but enough to be noticeable. Yuji jumped slightly, a look of surprise flashing across his face.

“Whoa, nice!” Yuji grinned, clearly impressed. “I felt that!”

Nobara crossed her arms, watching with mild curiosity. “Not bad. For a beginner.”

Megumi, on the other hand, remained quiet, but you could see the subtle lift of his eyebrow. He was hard to read, but you sensed that he was observing you more closely than before.

You blinked, stunned by the success. It hadn’t been much, but it was more than you had expected. Gojo’s hand lightly rested on your shoulder, his touch barely there but grounding nonetheless. “See?” he murmured. “Told you.”

His voice was calm, and when you glanced back at him, you saw a flicker of pride in his expression, hidden beneath the playful exterior. His grip lingered for just a moment too long before he casually pulled away, retreating to his spot by the railing.

“Alright, enough for today,” Gojo announced, clapping his hands together as if to close the session. “Let’s not wear y/n out too quickly. We’ll work on control next time.”

The first-years gathered their things, exchanging brief comments about the training session. Yuji patted you on the back, giving you an encouraging thumbs-up, while Nobara shot you a half-smile, as if to acknowledge that you had done better than expected. Megumi, ever quiet, nodded in your direction before heading off to his own training.

As the others dispersed, Gojo lingered behind, his usual carefree demeanour still in place. He waited until the courtyard was mostly empty before approaching you again, his hands casually in his pockets.

“You did well today,” he said, his voice quieter than before.

You met his gaze, though it was difficult to tell what he was thinking behind the blindfold. “I still have a long way to go.”

“Everyone starts somewhere,” he replied with a shrug. “Besides, you’ve got me as a teacher. And I’m the strongest, so you’ll be fine.”

There was a lightness in his tone, but something in his attention had you curious. “You know,” you began, glancing at him, “people tell me you’re not usually this… encouraging.”

Gojo tilted his head slightly, a teasing smile curling at his lips. “People say a lot of things about me, don’t they?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his casual response, but his playfulness didn’t quite cover the fact that his encouragement, his focus on you, was more than you’d seen him offer others. There was something different in the way he was around you—something that felt like more than just a sensei’s responsibility.

“Well, maybe they’re right,” you countered, crossing your arms. “You’ve been extra nice to me lately.”

Gojo’s grin widened, and he took a step closer to you, blocking your path, his presence suddenly more noticeable. “Maybe you’re just worth the effort.”

Your pulse quickened at his words, and before you could think of a response, Gojo’s carefree laughter echoed through the courtyard. “Don’t forget you have paperwork to do for Yaga!” He said in a sing-song tone, giving you a casual wave as he strolled away, leaving you with a mix of confusion and curiosity swirling in your chest.

—

The following day, Gojo took the three first-years on a mission to exorcise a few curses at a community college just outside of Tokyo, leaving you alone for the first time in weeks. It felt strange not having Yuji’s energy or Megumi’s quiet presence nearby, but Shoko had given you some chores to keep busy. After a while, you wandered through the school grounds, enjoying the quiet until you heard the sound of sparring.

Curious, you followed the noise until you came across Panda, Inumaki, and Maki, deep into their training session. You hesitated at first, and tried to sneak away, but before you could leave, Panda spotted you.

“Y/N!” Panda called out, waving you over with his big paw. “Come join us!”

You approached with a small smile, trying to shake off your nerves. “I was just finishing up some chores, but I got curious when I heard all the noise.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place!” Panda laughed, his energy contagious. “How’s everything going? Adjusting alright?”

“I think so,” you said, grateful for Panda’s warmth. “It’s been a little overwhelming, but everyone’s been really helpful.”

Inumaki raised a hand in greeting and mumbled, “Salmon,” a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. You waved back at him, appreciating his quiet kindness.

As the conversation continued, Maki stood on the sidelines, her arms crossed as she watched with a sharp, unreadable gaze. The longer the silence stretched, the more you felt her eyes on you, not unkind, but distant.

After a moment, Maki spoke up. “You’re still just watching?” Her tone was blunt, her gaze critical. “I thought you were supposed to be learning something by now.”

The comment made you pause. You weren’t sure if she was trying to provoke you or just being matter-of-fact, but there was an edge to her words that made you tense.

Panda chuckled nervously, trying to diffuse the tension. “Come on, Maki, Y/N’s still new here. She’s doing fine.”

Maki didn’t seem to care. She raised an eyebrow, her focus shifting back to you. “That right? Or are you just too scared to try anything?”

Her words struck a nerve. You could feel the tension rising in your chest, your fists clenching at your sides. You weren’t scared—not of the challenges in front of you, at least. You had been trying to learn, but Maki’s pointed tone made you feel like you were being judged.

You took a breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’m not scared,” you said, meeting her gaze.

Maki took a step forward, her stance unwavering. “Then prove it. Show me something, anything. Unless, of course, you’re all talk.”

Your frustration bubbled over. You’d spent weeks feeling out of place, constantly questioned, and now Maki was calling you out in front of the others. The pressure of her words mixed with your pent-up feelings, but you hadn’t intended to act on them. You were still new to cursed energy, after all—what could you possibly show her?

But as the frustration grew, something inside you stirred. Unintentionally, you felt a surge of warmth building in your hands. You hadn’t planned to release anything, but the more worked up you became, the harder it was to contain.

“I said I’m not scared!” you snapped, your emotions flaring. And then, without warning, your hands glowed with a faint blue light.

In a flash, cursed energy shot from your palms, not a deliberate attack, but more of a sudden, accidental release into the atmosphere. The energy crackled loudly through the air before dispersing just as quickly. Silence followed, and you froze, wide-eyed, as you realized what you’d done.

You hadn’t meant to—hadn’t even known you could—but there it was: proof that you weren’t just an observer. “Oh, I-I’m so sorry.” You said nervously, still in shock at what you had just done.

Maki’s eyebrows raised, a look of mild surprise crossing her face. Panda and Inumaki exchanged glances, equally caught off guard by the unexpected display.

Maki was the first to speak, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “Not bad. Even if it was an accident.”

You blinked, still trying to process what had just happened. You hadn’t meant to release any cursed energy, but the rush of emotions had pushed it out before you could stop it. A mix of embarrassment and relief washed over you, but you couldn’t deny the small sense of accomplishment that came with it.

Panda clapped his paws together, beaming at you. “Whoa! That was impressive, Y/N! See, you’ve got more in you than you think.”

Inumaki nodded approvingly, giving you a thumbs-up as he muttered, “Tuna mayo,” his way of cheering you on.

Maki, who had been the hardest to win over, gave a small nod of acknowledgment. “Guess you’re not completely useless after all.”

Though her words were still sharp, there was a hint of respect beneath them. For the first time since meeting her, you felt like Maki had actually seen you—not as an outsider, but as someone who could hold their own, even if the cursed energy had slipped out by accident.

Only one thought lingered in your mind as you headed back to your room that day-you couldn’t wait to tell Gojo.

—

At the Community Collage: Over the past few weeks, the first-years had begun to notice Gojo’s subtle preoccupation with you. Whether it was during training or simply in passing, the moments where Gojo lingered just a bit longer near you were becoming more frequent. Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi exchanged glances whenever Gojo was particularly attentive to you during group lessons, but none of them had yet to address it—until today.

As they walked through the courtyard, Gojo led the way with his usual relaxed swagger, he flicked his wrist and drew a veil over the area surrounding the college. The quiet hum of the barrier filled the air, signalling the start of their mission. For a moment, the group fell into silence, but Yuji, ever the curious one, couldn’t resist breaking it.

“Hey, sensei,” Yuji began, a playful glint in his eyes, “you’ve been spending a lot of time with y/n lately.”

Gojo, walking with his hands behind his neck, raised an eyebrow beneath his blindfold, clearly not fazed by the question. “So?” His tone was as unconcerned as ever.

Yuji shrugged, but his grin was hard to miss. “Just wondering if you’ve got a soft spot for her or something.”

Gojo didn’t miss a beat, his grin widening as he leaned closer to Yuji. His voice took on a teasing lilt. “Oh, absolutely. She’s just too cute, isn’t she?”

Yuji let out a nervous laugh and rubbed the back of his neck, looking towards the ground, “Uhh, I mean, yeah, obviously, but I mean, I-”

Gojo nodded and tilted his head back towards Yuji again as they walked. “But yes, Yuji, you’re right, she’s too old for you, you know, can’t let a 24-year-old girl go breaking your young, fragile heart.” He said, holding a finger to his lips as if acting out a dramatic scene.

Nobara, unimpressed by the entire exchange, rolled her eyes and shot her sensei a sharp glare. “Can you be serious for once? That’s not what he meant, and you know it.”

Megumi, trailing behind, sighed heavily. “This is getting ridiculous.”

Gojo chuckled at the reactions, clearly enjoying himself far too much. He straightened up, waving off their comments as if they were nothing. “What can I say? I’m a teacher. It’s my job to help.”

“You’re definitely doing more than helping,” Nobara muttered under her breath, folding her arms across her chest. “It’s kind of weird, honestly.” She knew it wasn’t that weird. After all, you were about eight years older than herself, Yuji, and Megumi, but she didn’t just want to seem like some nosey snob.

Gojo’s smile only grew, and he turned his head toward her with mock offence. “Weird? Me? I’m just a caring, attentive teacher. Right, Megumi?”

Megumi’s eye twitched, and he responded with a flat tone, “Don’t drag me into this.”

Yuji, grinned and gave Gojo a playful nudge. “You know, sensei, you’re not as subtle as you think you are.”

“Exactly,” Nobara chimed in, glaring at Gojo. “You’ve been acting weird since we found her. Don’t think we haven’t noticed.”

Gojo waved his hand dismissively, his carefree attitude unwavering. “You all think too much. Focus on what’s important.”

Nobara huffed. “What, like why you’re so protective of her?”

Yuji opened his mouth to add another quip, but Gojo cut him off, his tone turning a touch more serious, though still laced with that usual Gojo charm. “What’s important,” he said, turning toward the group, “is that we’re about to encounter some pretty nasty curses. So unless you want to end up exorcised by them, I suggest you focus.”

The playful air dissipated quickly as the weight of Gojo’s words settled in. The first-years exchanged glances, their previous banter quickly fading as they straightened up, understanding the shift in tone.

Gojo, satisfied with the sudden silence, clapped his hands together and grinned. “Good. Now, that’s the focus I like to see. Let’s get started, shall we?”

Despite casually dismissing the students’ teasing, Gojo couldn’t quite shake the truth behind their words. As much as he played it off, something drew his attention to you. Even though he deflected their questions with his usual bravado, he found himself watching you more often than he cared to admit. When he thought no one was paying attention, his gaze would linger, noticing the small things—the way you moved, how you interacted with the students, the quiet determination in your eyes despite the confusion surrounding your situation.

There was a warmth in how he looked at you, a subtle shift from his carefree and mischievous exterior. It wasn’t just your looks that caught his attention—though he couldn’t deny those either. No, there was something else, something about you that intrigued him, that pulled him in. Maybe it was the mystery surrounding your presence, or maybe it was something deeper. Whatever it was, Gojo couldn’t seem to stop himself from wanting to be closer, to figure out exactly why he was so drawn to you.

But for now, he pushed those thoughts aside. There were too many questions left unanswered, and Gojo wasn’t one to dwell on feelings he couldn’t explain.

—

Author's Note II: Hope you enjoyed, I did lol. If anyone is curious in being added to a taglist, please send me a message :)

[simplykorra]

I’m going to make an “analysis” post about this two tiny shots/acting excellence from KTY because I think there is so much to it that it needs to be talked about.

The first one is this:

When Beatrice tells Ava she doesn’t want to go with Miguel and she’ll see Ava at home, there’s a sadness in her face, a longing plea to not pursue this - to stay in this tiny little bubble they’ve created. Where it’s just them against the world.

The more Ava reaches out to people, the more she sees of the world beyond the two of them, the more Beatrice is afraid Ava will believe what Beatrice believes about herself - that she isn’t good enough. Isn’t valuable enough. Isn’t useful enough.

Isn’t worthy of love, of Ava’s love.

Obviously, this is all in Bea’s head, Ava is in love with her already at this point, we’ve seen it here:

But to Beatrice, who Ava has pulled out of her shell so much in their time together, there’s still this part of her that is trapped in self-loathing - in the things she was told and the way she was treated growing up.

That she’s no good, that her love is wrong and that she is more of a tool than a person - while Ava has this light and energy that she could never reach or contain or be strong enough to hold on to.

It comes up again here:

When Ava comments on Beatrice’s “easy on the eyes” line, you can just see how it affects Bea. There’s this rift in Beatrice that you can feel throughout the first two episodes of season 2 - I think in this scene when Ava calls her out for her jealousy and makes this comment, it hurts Bea more than she says because it plays into the doubts in her mind that she’s too wrong, too tainted and too different to ever really have a chance with Ava.

Like if the halo and Adriel and the OCS and all of it fell away, why would Ava go for someone like her when she could have literally anyone?

It’s just little things (I could make a whole post about Alba’s acting choices too because they’re both so fucking talented it’s altered my brain on the importance of performance) but these subtle things are a part of what make these two and their love story so special.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Guilt (18+)

Leonardo x reader x Raphael

A/N: Spicy time!... Or, kinda... This is the first time I’m writing anything that is stepping anywhere close to the NSFW area. It is not a lot, but I hope it’s still enjoyable.

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You are in a relationship with Raphael, but Leonardo is hiding some intense feelings for you. Mainly written with Leo’s thoughts in focus.

Warnings: Mentions of sex, implied smut, angst?

—----------------------------------------------

The lair echoed with the distant hum of machinery, a subtle reminder of the ever-present dangers that the four turtle brothers faced in their perpetual battles against the forces of evil. Yet, amidst the shadows, Leonardo fought a more personal and silent struggle - the tumultuous clash between his duty as a brother and the profound longing that stirred within him.

It began innocently enough, as friendships often do. The camaraderie shared within the close-knit family of mutants was undeniable, but for Leonardo, the connection transcended the boundaries of brotherhood. It was you - the one whose laughter echoed through the lair like a melody, whose presence brightened the darkest corners of their hidden world.

In the beginning, Leo dismissed these light feelings, attributing them to the intensity of you and his shared experiences. You were one of the few humans he and his brothers got to spend time with, so it wasn’t strange that thoughts like these would come up. After all, the bonds forged in the crucible of battle were bound to be strong, and so were those made in the comfort of one's own home.

But as time marched forward, Leonardo found himself captivated by the subtle nuances of your personality - the way your eyes sparkled with determination, the gentle touch of your hand on his arm, the infectious joy that radiated from you.

The realization hit him like a shuriken to the heart. Leonardo, the fearless and disciplined leader, was entangled in a web of emotions that threatened to disrupt the harmony he so fervently sought to maintain. The source of his internal conflict? Raphael - the fiery and impulsive brother who, unbeknownst to him, held your heart in a tender embrace. But as time continued, Leonardo was coming to that realization, and it hit him, hard.

Leonardo had felt it like a punch in his guts, the day he saw you and his brother on the couch. You guys were looking and talking. You giggled and bit your lip at something Raph had said, and as he put his arm around you, you leaned further into him, blushing ever so slightly. Leo had to go to his bedroom, and process through his lightheadedness, what he had just witnessed. But that wouldn’t be the last time he saw you and Raph like this.

You started coming to the lair more and more often, until it became almost everyday. But with each visit, you came less and less for Leonardo and his brothers, but Raphael. It came to a point where you would walk straight from the lair’s entrance, straight to Raph’s room. And then you started staying the night.

One morning Leonardo woke up to find you in the kitchen with Michelangelo and Donatello while cooking breakfast. Then came Raphael and hugged you from behind, before giving you a tender kiss on the lips. Leo almost forgot to breathe, while Mikey and Donnie started talking about how it was about time, and that they had been waiting for the two of you to become a thing for quite some time. Leo hoped that it would be the first and last time he would see you and Raphael in such a way, but he soon learned that it wasn’t the case. It happened more and more often, and no matter how hard Leo tried, he just couldn’t look away.

As Leonardo observed the tender moments shared between you and Raphael, he couldn't deny the undercurrent of envy that surged within him. The stolen glances, the whispered confidences, the shared laughter - each instance etched a deep groove in his soul. A conflict of interest blossomed within him, tearing at the fabric of his unwavering loyalty.

The guilt, however, was a constant companion. He questioned his motives, chastising himself for harboring such feelings for a brother's partner. Yet, he couldn't control the flood of emotions that surged each time he witnessed the intimacy that eluded him.

In the quiet hours of the night, when the lair was bathed in a soft, ethereal glow, Leonardo grappled with his internal turmoil. The hum of the city outside seemed to fade, leaving only the rhythmic beat of his own conflicted heart. He sought solace in the shadows, where he could watch from a distance, unseen and unheard. But there was one night that would forever be stuck in his head.

Ever since you and Raphael had made your relationship official, Leonardo had had a hard time sleeping. Therefore one night, he decided to go make himself some tea, in hopes that that would calm him down. But as he sat down in the kitchen with his hot tea in hand, he heard something he never thought he would hear. He froze at the sound of your soft moans coming from his brother's bedroom. His heartbeat quickened and his hands shook. You were begging him to keep going, telling him how much you loved it. For a moment Leo forgot where he was and what he was doing, and imagined you underneath him, begging him and telling him how much you loved him. Then you said his name, but it wasn’t Leo’s name. It was Raphael’s. Leo froze, cold running down his back as you were telling Raph how close you were. Leo would never forget what he heard next, and how horrible it made him feel.

Beyond the door, inside of Raph’s room, he could hear Raph say all sorts of filthy things to you, and you were responding to each and every word with the most pleasurable moans.

Then Raph asked you; “who makes you feel this good?”

And you answered; “you Raphael! Only you!”

Leo left the kitchen without drinking any of his tea.

But despite the pain that accompanied these clandestine observations, Leonardo found a strange comfort in the role of the silent watcher. The dance of your fingers tracing patterns on Raphael's shell, the shared glances that spoke volumes without words, the marks Raph would leave on you whenever you stayed the night - the scenes played out before him like a tragic love story, with him cast as the silent spectator.

The ache within him intensified with each passing day, yet Leonardo remained committed to the principles instilled by Master Splinter. The code of honor dictated his actions, and he dared not jeopardize the delicate balance within the team. He questioned the selfishness of his desires, grappling with the notion that perhaps true love meant sacrificing one's own happiness for the greater good. But Leo couldn’t deny how bad he wished to be the man you would kiss in front of everyone, and how badly he wanted to be the one that made you come with those moans at night. How badly he wanted to make you feel good, screaming for him to keep going, while he gave all he had to you. But he wasn't that man...

In those moments when your lips met Raphael's, Leonardo felt a sharp pang in his chest - a poignant reminder of the line he dared not cross. And so, he chose the path of selflessness, burying his emotions beneath layers of stoicism and discipline.

His heart, however, was a turbulent sea of conflicting emotions. The love he harbored for you was a flame that flickered in the shadows, threatening to consume him. Yet, he held onto the hope that time might dull the edges of this unrequited longing, allowing him to find peace within the confines of his duty.

As the nights turned into weeks and the weeks into months, Leonardo's silent suffering became a testament to the resilience of a leader torn between love and loyalty. He yearned for a day when the ache in his heart would subside, when he could smile genuinely at the happiness shared between you and Raphael without the bitter taste of jealousy.

And so, in the depths of the lair, Leonardo continued to watch - a guardian of love's bittersweet dance, a silent witness to a story that unfolded beyond his grasp. The shadows held his secret, and he carried the weight of unspoken emotions, a master of self-restraint in the pursuit of a harmony that remained elusive.

[kingkunigami]

This is entirely Ari and Jaspers fault. I’m actually insane for this man.

Pairing: Oliver Aiku x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, cunnilingus.

There’s something about the way Oliver Aiku’s stubble tickles your ear when he leans down to whisper against it that has your cunt throbbing with desire. It’s the salaicious implication behind it as his warm breath fans against your skin and you feel him pressed against your hip, a subtle indication that he might actually be good at it.

But he’s pathetic really, especially paired with the sheer audacity he holds that thought he could get away with asking you such a crude question. It’s enough having to deal with him on and off the pitch as one of the team administrators, but this? You weren’t drunk enough for this—

“Do you wanna suck my cock?”

It had been the last thing you’d expected to hear when he’d pressed his lips to your ear, and you should’ve walked away at that alone. There were more than enough men in this dirty dive bar that would at least have better small talk at bare fucking minimum.

“No.” You scrunched your nose in irritation, already intent on walking away.

“Aw come on,” He grins, taking a sip of his beer, “Don’t be like that, sweetheart.”

The pet name should’ve been his second strike, so why were you still here?

“I’m not your sweetheart,” You shot him a smile back, full of faux sincerity.

“But you could be,” He grinned.

“Nah, I don’t think I could.”

“You always act like you hate me.” He pouts, and you have to stop your heart from squeezing at how adorable he looks— you have to stay strong.

“Yeah, it’s an act.” You reply sarcastically, rolling your eyes as you down the rest of your drink.

That’s why you hate yourself for where you are now, legs spread while Oliver looks at you like the cat that got the cream. Licking his lips as he peels your sticky panties to the side, eyes sparkling in delight as he notices the wet patch that stains the fabric.

“Knew you were lying,” He scoffs, “Were you this wet when you were talking to me, huh?”

“Shut up,” You sneer, scrunching your nose in frustration.

“That’s not very nice, is it?” He presses a wet, sloppy kiss to your inner thigh.

And the moment you feel the rough stubble graze your thighs, it’s game over. Legs lock around his head to cage him in, chasing the sensation as you shamelessly wiggle your inner thighs against the side of his face.

“I haven’t even touched you yet, sweetheart.” He grins, large palms dipping into the plush of your thighs as he prizes them open like a cherished gift.

He licks his lips in anticipation as he ogles your sex, revealing just how wet and ready you are for him— strings of your slick glisten against you invitingly and it only boosts his ego knowing that it’s all for him.

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever seen.” He speaks, and you’re unsure whether it’s to you or him, but it doesn’t stop your clit from pulsing in response. The swollen nub desperate for attention as you writhe beneath his grip, Oliver’s warm breath that fans against it not nearly enough as you feel pleas sitting on the tip of your tongue.

But you’re determined not to stoop so low, to give his ego even more of a boost. He’s shameless enough as it is, with the cocky curl of his lip as he deliberately hovers inches from your slit.

“At least this pussy’s fucking honest,” He chuckles, “Look how much she wants me.” And it’s enough to have you weaving a hand through his messy mop of hair as your nails drag against his scalp. Twisting at the root to hold him steady as you buck your hips, pushing his face into your eager cunt.

His lips smash against your clit, giving it some needed relief as you whine in satisfaction. Your body convulsing as your eyes roll back into your skull, pleasure shoots through your veins like he’s an addictive drug and you’re certain you won’t recover.

But it’s the way his rough stubble grazes the sensitive skin that has you crumbling, your toes curl as you turn into the needy, desperate slut he’d said you were—

“Fuck,” He groans, muffled by your cunt as he slurps and guzzles your slick like he’s picked the ripest peach, “You’re such a mess.”

It’s debauched, and borderline depraved as you feel a mixture of his spit and your slick drool between the curve of your ass. Slurping it into his mouth before spitting it back down against your messy slit, positive there’s a puddle beneath you as Oliver continues to ruin you.

You’re certain you won’t survive— the flat of his tongue swipes from your tight rim as he works the length of you, all the way to the top as you feel the rough stubble on his chin tickle your clit. Oliver repeats the motion, as though he knows it’s exactly what you want. And perhaps it is— the sensation has you crying out for him as you shamelessly fuck his face. Chasing the sensation of his beard against your slit as you let the friction catch your clit, feeling the familiar throb swirl in your abdomen as you feel yourself teetering on the edge of bliss.

And he knows from the telltale way your thighs begin to shudder and your hole begins to pulse as he weaves a hand around your thighs to press down on your pelvis. Increasing the pressure and pulling the hood of your clit back as he nuzzles your cunt, bristling against you as you find yourself crying out for him. Reduced to a pathetic, debauched mess as he stares up at you from between your clenching thighs.

Oliver works you through your climax, his tongue prods your leaking hole greedily after as though to taste his victory. Pressing a final, lingering kiss to your over sensitive clit as he pulls back with a cocky grin. The mess of your climax now threaded through the fuzz on his chin as he shamelessly wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Still gonna act like you hate me, sweetheart?”

[salty-autistic-writer]

For @bucktommypositivityweek Day 1: what they love most about each other

Just The Way You Are

The things Buck and Tommy love most about each other are - ironically - the things they are most insecure about.

His past experiences have taught Buck that people don’t like when he talks too much. Especially when he talks too much about a topic they are not interested in. Small talk is practical. It serves a purpose. People ask a few general questions until they can start to talk about themselves. They don’t want to hear 1000 facts about something very specific. So whenever Buck catches himself getting too excited while rambling, he apologizes and tries to stop himself. It’s fine. He can file the information away in some corner of his mind, telling it to himself later. He doesn’t want to be exhausting.

But when he says, “I’m sorry” after he notices he rambles to Tommy while they are having dinner, Tommy blinks in confusion and says, “What for? Go on.”

What for? Huh. That’s not the … usual reaction.

“I was rambling,” Buck states, confused. “Yeah. And I love to hear you ramble," Tommy says.

Buck's breath falters. Did he hear that right? “You … Really?! You like it?"

“I would never lie to you, Evan," Tommy says seriously. "This is one of the things I love about you most. Please don’t stop.”

Buck exhales shakily. Suddenly, he feels heavy and light at the same time. Are those actual tears in his eyes? Damn. Must be all the childhood trauma hitting him all at once. All the times that he felt like he was being too much while at the same time never being enough. All those moments in which he felt like he was talking into the void because no one really wanted to listen to what he had to say. The disappointment. The anger he directed at himself. Because, yeah, why couldn't he just shut up?!

“Evan? Are you alright?” Tommy asks, his voice now filling with worry. Buck nods and clears his throat. “Yeah. I’m fine. It’s just … Most people don’t react like you just did. They tell me I’m annoying or exhausting or they just give me subtle hints that I should stop, you know? A sigh. A twitch of their eye. Or when their smile gets too wide and too bright so you know exactly that they are just faking it.”

Tommy reaches out and takes Buck’s hand, gently squeezing it. “I see. I’m sorry they couldn’t appreciate you for being your true self. You never have to stop rambling to me. Now please tell me more about spiders, maybe it will help me with my very irrational fear of them.”

Buck chuckles. “Okay. So, uh, did you know that there are spiders who fling their hair at predators?” Tommy raises a brow. “No, I didn’t know that. And I have a feeling it won't help me with being scared of spiders. But go on. Sounds fascinating.” +++

His past experiences have taught Tommy that life essentially is a stage play. People have certain expectations. If you don’t fulfil them, it leads to confusion and irritation. Usually, people don’t want to hear or see the truth. They want to hear and see what they like and what fits their view of the world around them.

It’s normal to play a role and wear a mask, especially when you realize that being yourself leads to a lot of confusing moments. It’s kind of funny most people just assume he's super extrovert and confident, then react bewildered when he tells them his social battery is empty and no, he can’t go to another bar right now. He has to recharge. People look at him and see someone big, strong, and confident. Someone who knows what he wants and who he is. Someone who takes charge. Someone who takes care of others and protects them.

Then comes Evan and he doesn’t leave like the others did. Evan stays and time passes and Tommy realizes he has to take off his mask and stop playing a role because it would be unfair to his boyfriend. It’s a scary moment, really. Because there's still a chance that Evan will look at him differently. That he will leave eventually.

But no matter what Tommy reveals about himself, Evan smiles and says okay and saves the information in his mind so he can remember it later. And he does. He remembers. He remembers that Tommy likes to know the plan beforehand and isn’t fond of having his routine interrupted by a surprise. He remembers that Tommy has to recharge his social battery and needs space for that. He remembers that Tommy doesn’t like certain smells or textures because they physically make him sick. He remembers everything and he never says a bad word about it.

When Evan looks at him, he doesn’t see something he created in his head, he sees all the things Tommy told Evan about himself. He sees that Tommy likes to let go sometimes and that he likes to be taken care of as well, as long as he can trust someone enough. And he trusts Evan. With all the things he didn’t dare to tell other people. When he tells Evan that he usually doesn't get to be the little spoon in bed, Evan first curses Tommy's past partners in colourful ways, then says, "We can both be little and big spoons, depending on how we feel and what we need. And if neither of us wants to be a certain spoon, then we can just turn to face each other. Spoons can look at each other as well."

Sometimes Tommy looks at Evan and thinks: He’s too good to be real.

And then Evan wraps his arms around Tommy from behind, sighing against the back of Tommy’s neck, his breath warm and tickling, and he says, “This is one of the things I love most. That you trust me with this. That you trust me with you.”

Turns out you’re only insecure about certain things until you find the person who accepts you just the way you are.

[justmediocrewriting]

I just KNOWWW in my heart and punani that OPLA Sanji calls his girl "Duchess" when they get nasty and this has been living rent free in my mind for a HOT ASF MINUTE. Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

-💅🏾

✍️: sis can I just say that I am SO HERE for your TED talk? I strongly feel as though OPLA Sanji is one of the rare men out there that can be romantic and downright dirty and degrading at the EXACT SAME TIME. Literally in the same sentence. For example:

★ He talks in such a sweet voice, like, this mans could say the filthiest and most degrading shit and it would sound like he’s praying to you.

- “is it too much? Do you need a break, duchess?”

- “you can take so much more, doll; I know you can.”

- “gods, duchess, you’re trembling. Do I affect you that much?”

- “you’re being so good for me, love. I think you deserve a treat.”

- “you’ve made me so hard, duchess. I think you should take responsibility.”

- “stay right there and don’t move; I want to worship every inch of your beautiful body.”

★ it’s not just his words either. He displays a mixture of dominance and worship in every move he makes

- holding you by the hips, hands nearly feather light on your skin yet halting every movement

- definitely a fan of stroking/holding your cheeks/jaw, forcing you to keep your eyes locked on him as he picks you apart

- don’t even think about closing your eyes. He’ll find a way to open them

- loves every inch of you and makes sure you know it

- absolutely loves to hold you in his lap. Will wrap his arms around your waist to hold you there until he’s satisfied, and though hes normally very composed and calm, there are times he gets impatient and will start humping you right there through his clothes

- isn’t a fan of getting extremely frisky in front of others; but you won’t be safe from hidden teases, such as a small squeeze to your thigh under the table or an “accidental” graze of his groin against your ass

- also makes a habit of riling you up through whispers

“you look ravishing today, duchess.”

“I can’t wait to get you out of those clothes.”

“I wonder how I should worship you tonight…”

★ a fucking sex god. Let’s be honest y’all opla Sanji gives off that vibe. He definitely knows his way around a woman’s body, but he also knows that every woman is different and that their optimal pleasure points vary — this makes him the most mind-blowing lover on the face of the planet

- he is immediately eliciting and gauging reactions even before the two of you get intimate

- it’s so subtle that no one really catches on

- refers to you by various endearments to see which ones bring the biggest blush to your face — he’ll then use that information to his advantage in the bedroom, using them so much that you’ll literally feel like melting

- his main goal in the bedroom is to send you straight to euphoria in the shortest time possible

- his hands are dexterous and experienced, locating spots within you that even you didn’t know existed, and finds your erogenous zones with little to no difficulty then abuses them mercilessly

- this mans talks you through your orgasms

“that’s it, duchess. Keep squeezing me like that, it feels so good.”

“gods, you’re soaking us both. So beautiful.”

“I’m here duchess, just let go. Let me see you lose it.”

“are you about to cum, duchess? Don’t be shy, you can make a mess on me.”

“you sound so beautiful, doll. Just like an angel.”

★ his own pleasure comes second to him, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t go all out when it’s his turn. The way he fucks you can sometimes border on brutal, with fast, deep thrusts that bring stars to your vision; yet he somehow manages to nearly replace any and all pain with intense pressure. I imagine that he’s a fan of any position in which he can see your face

-cowgirl

- missionary

- mating press

- strong enough to stand up and hold you while he fucks you — with or without pressing you against a wall

- fucking loves eating pussy, and is damn good at it

- though he thoroughly enjoys watching your face while he pleases you, he will give that view up for a good 69

- it absolutely drives him crazy to hear and feel you gagging on his cock as he slurps, licks, and sucks your pussy

- ride his face. Just fucking do it

- will move your hips for you if he feels you aren’t riding fast enough

- will willingly give up his right to oxygen in favor of burying his face between your thighs

- mostly dominant, but he will occasionally display some submissive behaviors — mostly with words

“gods, please don’t stop, duchess. Keep riding me like that.”

“your pussy is so damn good, love. I can’t get enough.”

“that’s it baby, take what you need from me. Use me, duchess.”

★ agghhh damn you nonnie this is INFESTING my brain right now. Maybe I’ll write a one-shot of this instead just headcanons at some point. “Duchess” is definitely an endearment that Sanji would call his partner. I also have a few that I see him using, such as:

angel (😩🤤), babydoll, doll, darling, sweetheart, madam, precious, GODDESS (fuckk I caaaant)

I’m so thirsty for this man it’s unreal.

Also, I know I’ve been basically dead on here and I apologize profusely for that. My motivation has been crushed for a while and I’m trying to build it back up bit by bit. Thank you all for being patient with me ❤️ I love you all so much

[cozycottagetarot]

What Do They Fantasize About You 18+

How To Pick A Pile:

Everyone has their own technique for choosing a 'pile'. My recommendation is to clear your mind and focus on each image for a few seconds. The image you find yourself coming back to even when you focus on the other images is the pile for you.

Quick notes on this reading:

I'm experimenting with a different style. -- I've been working on shorter, less structured, formal pacs (and some longer ones). I'm not sure how I feel about it but I'd like to hear your thoughts too! It's 18+ but not explicit. -- I've always shied away from these kinds of readings because I didn't know how to make them authentic and within my comfort zone but I figured it out. It does involve sexual themes but it's not explicit (as in graphic or using strong language.) However, it is not intended for minors, so if your are a minor check out this one here instead.

It's purely for entertainment purposes. -- Don't think I need to explain more. Take what resonates be it all of it, some of it or none at all.

PILE 1 

Your person fantasizes of just watching you. Admiring your body, naked or clothed. Watching you enjoy the little luxuries of life. They might fantasize about you being better than them in a way. I'm not sure what's the correct way to phrase it. More like you're of a higher status than they are, and you giving them your attention is enough. You letting them touch you, not even in an inherently sexual way, is a bonus. They might feel like their status is elevated when they get to be in or on your arm/s. They could fantasize about you turning them on or pleasuring them in a coy manner... You know you’ve got it (it being looks, charm, them wrapped around your finger) and you tease them about it-- but it’s so subtle, so gentle, it dances on the fine line of being oblivious versus intentional. Star/Starlet vibes. They love everything about you, all parts of your body gets attention. They could love your hair, especially if it's of lighter hues, or has red undertones (even for brown hair because some brown hair has hints of more yellow while others are more red).

For some of you it maybe that you’re mildly intimidated by them in some format. Shying away from them in some manner so they give off that let me worship you energy to get you more comfortable with them. Another vibe I pick up on is learning to love something about yourself and being more comfortable in who you are and they’re your cheerleader unconditionally cheering you on. 

PILE 2

I feel like this is someone you had to warm up to. Their energy is one of being very doting, but the energy I’m reading for you is like "ugh, really?" When it comes to this person initially. It feels like someone who wants to reassure you (or wants you to reassure them), wants to make sure they are pleasing you in every and any way they can properly. This extends to outside of the bedroom. If you’ve got a craving, they’re off to get it before you can even think to bat your eyes. They’ve got eyes for no one but you. Heavy on the princess treatment. They may fantasize about taking control, but still in a gentle or compassionate way. They’re in charge but you’re still royalty for the day. They'd want to make sure you're comfortable and enjoying yourself (more than 'normal'). They may fantasize about having sexual encounters with you in places surrounded by nature. Not anywhere where you could be easily caught though. Fantasies of stealing you away from your responsibilities to have a moment with you. They may favour your chest. I'm also getting soft brushes of the skin with the occasional more forceful touch— how do I describe it? I've talked about this gentleness, but this is more like pulling you closer because they need you in your arms but it's a tad rougher than you'd expect. They could fantasize about light bondage as well. Getting you all dressed up and wining and dining you all while anticipating to take it off. 

Pile 3 

The energy here feels a little bit magical or unreal, like you two mirror each other greatly, or complement one another well. It's as though you two operate as a unit and less so two individuals trying to make something work together. I feel like that makes no sense but whatever. I very much get a "let's stay in and roll around in the sheets all day and night" vibe with this one... although it's more like any surface or room is fair game. This person may favour your behind over anything else. But it's very much a balance of both of you being in control. Very much in sync. There could be lots of taking turns or incorporating different sensory elements as well. An exploration of one another truly. Fantasizing about aftercare is another prominent possibility as well. Cuddling and pillow talk. There's also being spent after you two are through with each other. Or maybe it's a sense of relief and release. They may fantasize about you the most when they need to blow off steam, (they) just get lost in the thought of being with you. I actually repulled the cards (because there's always one pile) but a few of the same cards kept coming out and it was packed with major arcana. Justice, The Wheel, The Emperor AND The Empress. There’s also the Magician and while I'm not exactly reading the cards how I normally do, it feels like this relationship/connection isn’t ready yet. It's a feeling of something momentous that when it happens, you'll know. That's all I really pick up on there. They could fantasize about just staying in. Maybe both of you are under some kind of scrutiny respective to your social circles or careers. Leaders or innovators of some kind. Or maybe on a more general level, you’ve grown the resolve to not only wear your 'crown', that thing that makes you special, but own it too. A lot of abundant energy and energy of growth. They could really fantasize about shutting out the rest of the world with you. 

Pile 4 

This person seems so much in their feelings I don't know if to laugh, cringe, or cry for them. So much is going on in the cars, like an internal storm wreaking havoc on someone's life. There are undercurrents of them feeling or being selfish too? This person could be a traditionalist of sorts. It comes across as very possessive like they’re off their rocker worrying about you being into other people. BUT HEAR ME OUT! With my post-reading clarity, I think this person is a catastrophiser. So instead of 'hot fantasies' being at the forefront of their mind when thinking of you, anxiety, limiting beliefs or something else may get the best of them. It sounds absurd but if you've been there you know and if not then tell me your secret! Anyway, it could be long-distance relationship and that's the reason why. They may fantasize about being able to touch your body. They may like to play footsies. You could be very attractive and so they’re worried about losing you to someone else and it’s literally making them crazy. A third-party situation seems likely as well, real but most likely imagined. 

Because this isn't a psych analysis, I pulled more cards. Quickies and stolen moments are the vibe for this pile. Initially, I wrote something about it that just seems so wrong but again I think it's more of not allowing oneself to fantasize about good things happening. I could only keep describing it as if being in the mind of someone tormented. Fantasies of finding home within you but something lingering in the distance, never really enjoying one to fully enjoy the moment unless their eyes are closed. They could have fantasies of having influence over you... being able to convince you to stay. (more so if you two are together physically instead of having to separate in distance again). Fantasies of holding you tight. Wishing they could give themselves to you fully.

While I was reading a song that came to me was 'Lose You' by Sam Smith — word for word that song embodied a lot of the emotions and energy I was picking up.

[sjylouvre]

pottery date (sjy)

WARNINGS. pet names, kisses, proofread but i'm sorry if there's mistakes! (Imk if i missed something pls!!)

anon’s req. “can i request a pottery date w jaeyun?”

genre. fluff

pairing. bf!jake x afab!reader

wc. 1.6k

A soft hum escapes you as you scroll through your phone, lounging on the couch in your cozy living room. Jake sits beside you, his arm lazily draped around your shoulders. You can feel the weight of his gaze, and when you glance up, he's staring at you with that familiar smirk playing on his lips.

"What?" you ask, playfully nudging him with your elbow.

He laughs, shaking his head. "Nothing, just thinking about something."

You raise an eyebrow. "And what would that be?"

Instead of answering, he leans in and presses a soft kiss to your temple, letting his lips linger a little longer than usual. His warmth seeps into your skin, and you close your eyes, enjoying the way his touch makes you feel safe and loved.

"Come on," he suddenly says, standing up and tugging on your hand. "We’re going out."

You blink, a little caught off guard. "Going where?"

He doesn’t give you an answer, just grins and pulls you to your feet. "You’ll see. It’s a surprise."

“Jake, I hate surprises,” you say, narrowing your eyes but smiling despite yourself.

"You’ll like this one, I promise." He gives you that boyish grin that you can never resist and pulls you closer, his hands sliding down to your waist before giving your hips a soft squeeze. "Now, hurry up and change into something comfortable."

Curiosity piqued, you don’t argue. You grab a simple outfit—something casual but nice enough for whatever Jake has in mind. As you get ready, your mind races with possibilities, but knowing Jake, it could be anything.

Once you’re dressed, Jake grabs his keys and leads you out to the car. He keeps the destination a secret the entire drive, and every time you try to pry it out of him, he just laughs and shakes his head.

“Jake, seriously, where are we going?” you ask again, a hint of impatience in your voice. “You’re killing me.”

He glances over at you with a soft smile. “Trust me, you’ll love it. Just a bit more patience.”

You sit back in your seat, crossing your arms but giving him a playful pout. “Fine. But if I don’t, I’m holding this against you for life.”

He chuckles and reaches over, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers. “Deal.”

The car pulls up in front of a small studio, and as you step out, your eyes widen. “Pottery?” you breathe, looking up at the sign. “You remembered.”

Jake’s grin widens, and he pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you. “Of course I did. You used to talk about how much you loved doing it when you were little.”

Warmth blooms in your chest as you bury your face in his shirt, the familiar scent of him grounding you. “You’re the best,” you mumble against his chest.

“Yeah, I know,” he teases, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before guiding you inside.

The studio is warm and inviting, the smell of clay filling the air as you’re led to your own little space. Jake helps you put on the apron, his fingers brushing against your sides as he ties it behind you.

“You ready to get your hands dirty?” he asks, his voice soft and low in your ear.

You nod, excitement bubbling inside you. As you sit next to Jake, spinning the clay between your fingers, your eyes drift toward his hands. The veins on the back of them stand out as he expertly works the wheel, guiding the clay with precision. There’s something captivating about the way his hands move, each motion fluid, strong, and confident. You can’t help but stare, mesmerized by the way the veins flex with each subtle adjustment.

Jake glances at you from the corner of his eye, a small smirk pulling at his lips. “You keep looking at my hands, babe. Something on your mind?” His voice carries a teasing edge, but the warmth in his eyes shows he knows exactly why you’re watching.

Your cheeks flush, caught in the act. “Maybe I just like watching you work,” you tease back, trying to play it cool.

He chuckles softly, his eyes flicking between you and the clay. “Or maybe it’s because you have a thing for my hands,” he says, his tone playful but with a hint of something deeper behind it. He flexes his fingers slightly as if showing off for you, and you bite your lip, pretending to focus on the clay in front of you again.

Jake leans in a little closer, whispering, “I’ll remember that for later.” The heat in his voice sends a shiver through you, but before you can respond, he presses a soft kiss to your temple, making your heart race.

“I missed this,” you whisper, looking over at Jake. “Thank you.”

His eyes soften as he leans in, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Anything for you.”

After a while, your creations start to take shape. Jake’s, though a little lopsided, has its own charm. You can’t stop laughing as he tries to fix it, muttering curses under his breath in that Australian accent you adore.

“You’re not bad,” you tease, nudging him with your shoulder. “A little more practice and you’ll be a pro.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, though the smile on his face says he’s enjoying himself. “I’m still blaming you if it collapses.”

When your hands are both covered in clay, Jake takes the opportunity to smear a little on your nose, laughing when you gasp in mock horror.

“Jake!” you exclaim, trying to wipe it off but only succeeding in smudging it further. “You’re gonna pay for that.”

“Oh, yeah?” He grins mischievously, leaning in closer. “And how exactly are you gonna make me pay?”

Without thinking, you reach out and smear some clay across his cheek. He freezes for a moment, his mouth hanging open in disbelief, before he bursts into laughter.

“Alright, now it’s on,” he says, grabbing more clay and chasing you around the small space.

By the end of it, you’re both covered, laughing so hard your stomach hurts. Jake finally catches you, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. His lips find yours in a soft, lingering kiss, the world around you fading away as he cradles your face in his hands.

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips, his forehead resting against yours.

“I love you, too,” you breathe, smiling as he wipes a bit of clay from your cheek.

“Best date ever?” he asks with a wink.

You nod, heart full. “Best date ever.”

When you both get home, still covered in clay, Jake takes charge. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he murmurs, guiding you towards the bathroom.

He grabs a wet towel and some wipes, carefully running the cloth over your arms, gently wiping away the dried clay. His touch is delicate, but every now and then, his fingers linger, brushing over your skin with tenderness. You watch as his hands work, your eyes tracing the veins that stand out against his tanned skin. He notices again and smirks to himself but doesn’t say a word this time.

Once you’re mostly clean, Jake hands you one of his oversized shirts to change into. “You’ll be more comfortable in this,” he says, kissing your cheek as you slip into the soft fabric. His hands linger on your waist as he helps adjust the shirt on you, the faintest hint of possessiveness in his touch that makes your heart skip.

After he changes into something comfortable as well, he pulls you toward the living room. “Come here,” he says softly, leading you to the couch and draping a blanket over you both.

Snuggling up close, you feel the weight of the day melt away. The warmth of Jake’s body next to yours, his soft kisses on your lips, and the way his hand rests protectively on your hip—it all makes you feel so loved and cared for.

“Feeling better now?” he asks, his voice low as he presses his lips to the top of your head.

You nod, smiling. “Yeah, much better. Thank you, Jake.”

He chuckles softly, kissing you again, this time letting the kiss linger a little longer. “Anytime, baby. You know I’d do anything for you.”

You both make your way to the living room, where you kick off your shoes and snuggle up on the couch. Jake grabs a couple of soft blankets, draping them over you both, and then reaches for the TV remote.

“Movie night?” he suggests, his eyes twinkling with anticipation.

“Sounds perfect,” you reply, settling into his side.

The movie starts, but your attention is mostly on Jake. His arm is around you, and every now and then, he leans in to steal a kiss. Each touch of his lips is tender, full of warmth and affection. You respond eagerly, letting the kisses deepen, your fingers playing with the hem of his shirt.

Every kiss feels like a little reminder of how much he cares, and you find yourself savoring each one. Jake’s hands gently caress your back, pulling you closer, as if he’s trying to make the moment last forever.

“You know,” you whisper between kisses, “tonight was amazing. Thank you.”

Jake’s lips find yours again, this time with a more lingering, passionate kiss. “I’m glad you think so. I had a great time too.”

As the movie continues in the background, you both become more relaxed, the clay on your clothes and skin forgotten as you focus on each other. The kisses become slower and more meaningful, each one expressing the love and connection you share.

When the movie ends, you stay wrapped in each other’s arms, feeling the softness of his touch and the warmth of his body against yours. Jake’s fingers gently play with your hair as you both drift into a comfortable silence.

Eventually, you both fall asleep on the couch, Jake’s last kiss of the night soft and full of promise. The peacefulness of the moment, combined with his presence, makes for a perfect end to a perfect evening.

© sjylouvre 2024, do not copy, steal, remake or brand my content as yours.

[burnthoneydrops]

I have a possible fic request! What about Benedict with a reader who gets easily flustered. He’s such a flirt and I feel like if he flirted with me, I would be so nervous and flushed that I couldn’t speak. No rush on the fic, and only if you want to!

Lots of love! :)

Subtle(tea)

A/N: Hey love! Thank you so much for your request! I hope you like it and sorry it took me so long!!

Word Count: 851

Warnings: none

Tea with the Bridgertons was not an unusual event for you and was something that made Sunday your favourite day of the week. The familiar wisteria comes into view as your carriage pulls in front of their house, signalling you were soon to be reunited with your favourite family- though you wouldn’t dare let your mother hear you say that. You spot Hyacinth ducking her head away from one of the upper level windows, her chestnut curls twirling behind her as she undoubtedly raced to alert her mother of your arrival. Their front door opens as one of the footmen lends you a hand for descending the short carriage stairs, and Hyacinth and Eloise are quick to meet you on their front steps. 

“Y/N you’re here! We thought you were never going to make it!” Hyacinth announces as she grabs your hand, pulling you faster up the steps. 

“Hyacinth Bridgerton, I will not have you bombarding our guest before they even have the chance to step foot inside,” Lady Bridgerton makes herself known from just outside the front door, giving a harsh look to Hyacinth before smiling at you. “It is always wonderful to see you dear,” she remarks as she leans in to give you a hug, forcing Hyacinth to let go of your arm. 

You laugh as you return her hug, “I’m simply glad you all find me entertaining enough that I keep receiving the invite”. 

“It would be so incredibly boring without you,” Eloise adds as the group of you walk through the house to the drawing room. 

“Tell me, is Anthony still pushing away every young lady of the ton?” You ask with a smile as you sit across from Hyacinth and Lady Bridgerton, with Eloise beside you. 

Lady Bridgerton rolls her eyes, “unfortunately so. He seems determined to make this much more difficult than need be. It appears to be a family trend”. 

“Talking ill about us again, Mother?” Benedict jokes with a tilt of his head as he leans against the drawing room door, sketchbook under his arm as normal. 

“Benedict!” Hyacinth smiles. 

“Oh Hyacinth, I believe Gregory was looking for you to test out his new marble set with him,” he passes on the information from his younger brother who had raced past him earlier. She lets out a gasp of excitement and runs off, waving a quick goodbye before dashing down the hall. Benedict makes his way behind the couch upon which you and Eloise were sitting and standing beside you. “Had I known we were to be having such appealing company, I might have scrubbed up better for the occasion,” he comments in a low voice, trying to avoid the two other pairs of ears in the room. 

You keep your head directed at the carpeted floor, hoping the blush growing on your cheeks was not so incredibly obvious. “So, is your father still away on his business overseas?” Lady Bridgerton asks you, bringing you back to the conversation at hand. 

“Indeed he is,” you nod, “he has about a month left abroad from what I gathered in his latest letter. 

“Well, if you and your mother find yourselves in need of companionship, you are more than welcome here at any time,” she offers you a warm smile. 

“For my sake if nothing else,” Benedict mutters, again keeping it between you two. You would be lying if you said you did not find the second son attractive, and the current attention was only making that more apparent. You clear your throat, hoping that it might disrupt your current train of thought. 

“Is everything alright dear?” Lady Bridgerton asks, and you hear Benedict chuckle quietly beside you. You can just about feel the slightly proud smirk on his face. 

“If I knew your reaction to me would be this strong, I would have acted like this sooner”. This man and his hypotheticals will be the death of you. 

“Yes, I’m just fine,” you nod, giving Lady Bridgerton the least awkward smile you can imagine as you feel your cheeks grow hotter by the second. 

“Every artist needs his muse, does he not?” Benedict whispers, pretending to adjust the sleeves of coat. Your breath stops, and you try your hardest to continue making eye contact with Lady Bridgerton, hoping she’s not too aware of the situation unfolding in front of her. “Well, I suppose I shall be off. Let you enjoy your tea and whatnot,” Benedict begins to walk back to the door. 

“You’re not going to stay for a cup dearest?” His mother asks, looking confused. 

“Not today, Mother. I believe I have accomplished all that I needed to do here,” he looks directly at you. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I had some painting to catch up on”. And with that, he is gone. 

“Did he seem strange to you, Eloise?” Lady Bridgerton asks her middle daughter. 

“Not any stranger than usual,” she shoots you a quick glance with a mischievous smirk on her face before looking back at her mother. Perhaps you were not as subtle as you once thought.

[n1ght0f-nyx]

Moonbound

werewolf oc! Ezra x gn! reader

tags/warnings- monster fuckers, werewolf x human, transformation, full moon werewolfs, preexisting relationship, full moon ritual, mild body horror, restraint, shy werewolf boy

The moon was rising slowly over the horizon, casting an eerie glow that bathed the room in silvery light. You could feel the tension building in the air, the telltale sign that tonight was going to be rough. ezra sat at the edge of the bed, his hands trembling in his lap, eyes fixed on the floor. His breathing was uneven, shallow with anxiety, and you could see the subtle twitch in his muscles as he fought to keep control.

You stood beside him, your heart aching at the sight of him struggling. ezra had always been gentle and shy, a man whose words were few but meaningful when spoken. But when the full moon came, everything changed. He wasn’t himself — the beast within him took over, wild and dangerous. Tonight was no different, and as much as it hurt to do it, you both knew what had to be done.

"It's okay, ezra," you whispered softly, kneeling in front of him so you could look into his eyes. "I’m here."

He raised his gaze to meet yours, his soft brown eyes clouded with fear and shame. “I hate this part,” he mumbled, his voice barely a whisper. “I don’t want to hurt you. Or anyone.”

You reached out and took his hands in yours, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your palms. His fingers twitched but he held onto you like a lifeline. “You won’t hurt me,” you said, your voice steady and calm. “I know you, ezra. You’re stronger than this.”

His jaw clenched as he shook his head. "I can feel it… it’s getting worse. I can’t control it when the change starts." His breath hitched, panic edging into his voice. "You should leave. You should—"

"ezra," you interrupted gently, squeezing his hands. "I’m not going anywhere. We’ve done this before, remember? We’ll get through it, just like always."

He looked at you, searching your face for any sign of doubt, but you knew he wouldn’t find any. You had been through this together enough times to know what was coming. The fear, the aggression, the need to lock him away until the worst of the night passed. But through it all, you never stopped loving him, never stopped seeing the kind man he was beneath the curse.

"I trust you," you continued, brushing a thumb over his knuckles. "And I’ll be here to make sure everything’s safe."

ezra swallowed hard, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I don’t deserve you," he whispered.

"Don’t say that," you replied, standing up and gently guiding him to his feet. "You deserve love, ezra. And I’m going to remind you of that, even when things get tough."

The chains were already prepared, hanging from the heavy metal loops embedded in the bedroom wall. You hated using them, hated the way they looked so out of place in the cozy room you both shared. But they were necessary, especially when ezra was on the verge of losing control. The full moon brought out the worst of his condition, and if the chains were what kept him and everyone else safe, then so be it.

As you led him to the wall, you could feel his body starting to tremble more violently. His breathing grew more ragged, and his skin was flushed with heat. The transformation was beginning.

"I’m sorry," he rasped, his voice breaking as the first wave of pain hit him. "I’m so sorry."

You moved quickly, fastening the chains around his wrists and ankles with practiced care, making sure they were secure but not too tight. He grunted, his muscles straining against the growing pressure of the change, but you kept whispering to him, soothing him with your words.

"You’re so strong, ez’," you murmured, brushing a hand through his dark, sweat-dampened hair. "You’ve got this. You’re not alone. I’m here."

His breaths came out in ragged gasps now, his body convulsing as the wolf fought to break free. You stepped back, giving him space, but you never stopped talking.

"You’re doing so well, love," you praised, your voice low and steady. "I know it hurts, but you’re not the monster you think you are. You’re my ezra. My kind, sweet ezra."

His head snapped back, his eyes glowing an unnatural yellow as the wolf took over, but even then, you saw the flicker of recognition in his gaze. The chains rattled as he strained against them, skin splitting to form thick hair, muscles bulging and teeth elongating into fangs. But through it all, you stayed calm, keeping your voice gentle.

"You’re still you," you whispered, staying just out of reach. "No matter what, I see you, ezra. I love you. I’m proud of you."

A deep, guttural growl ripped from his throat, but you weren’t afraid. You had seen this before, felt the raw power of the transformation. But you also knew that deep down, ezra was still in there, fighting to stay in control.

The hours passed slowly, the moon climbing higher into the sky as ezra’s form twisted and contorted, the beast taking full control. The chains held, and you stayed close, whispering soft reassurances into the night.

By the time dawn broke, the worst of it was over. ezra hung limp in the chains, his body battered and exhausted from the transformation. You moved quickly to release him, catching him as he slumped into your arms. He was weak, but he was himself again — the shy, soft-spoken ezra.

"how you holding up, love?" you whispered, holding him close as his breathing steadied. "You made it through."

He didn’t have the strength to reply, but the way he clung to you said enough. You kissed his temple softly, your heart swelling with love and pride. No matter how many full moons came and went, you would always be there for him.

And he would always be yours.