#of the screen to press the save button.....

[korraven]

Party on you…yeah

It never took a rocket scientist to feel the tension between you and the Winter Soldier.

Hell, even Tony picked up on it — and he wasn’t exactly the poster child for emotional intelligence.

It followed the two of you like smoke. Thick. Heavy. Unavoidable.

You were both Avengers, both soldiers, both broken in the ways that didn’t always show.

Was it lust? Yeah. It sat between you like a live wire, just waiting for someone to grab hold and not let go.

Was it hate? Maybe. You challenged each other, pushed buttons, cut deep when things got tense.

Was it friendship? At times. You understood each other in a way no one else really did. That kind of bond doesn’t form without some kind of scars.

But the truth?

It was something bigger. Something you never named. Something neither of you dared to touch.

Because you were a hero. An Avenger. You knew better.

And he… he was still learning how to forgive himself.

You never crossed the line. Not once.

When you were alone, it was quiet. Careful. Boring, in a way that felt almost painful.

Like walking a tightrope and pretending you weren’t dying to fall.

The only difference between you?

He was single.

You weren’t.

Nothing scandalous — you were dating a world-class reporter.

Clean record. Good heart. Someone your teammates liked.

Someone who smiled at press conferences and held your hand like you were the best thing that ever happened to them.

But he didn’t make your breath catch in your throat.

He didn’t make you question everything you thought you knew about control.

Bucky did.

He looked at you like he saw all the parts you tried to hide.

The damage. The danger. The hunger.

And still — he never turned away.

That was the problem.

It wasn’t love. Not exactly.

But it wasn’t not love either.

It was something you couldn’t name without setting it on fire.

Something wild. Something wrong.

Something real.

And you?

You were supposed to save the world.

But right now, all you wanted to do

was ruin it with him.

——

“Hey babe, did you still want tacos for dinner?” your boyfriend called, sticking his head out of your shared bedroom, his hair still damp from the shower.

You were curled up on the couch, phone in hand, TV on low volume but playing something you weren’t really watching. You didn’t answer at first. Just scrolled, pretending to be focused. When you finally glanced up, your nod was small, like your neck was too heavy to move fully.

“Yeah, tacos are fine,” you murmured.

He stepped out into the hallway, towel thrown over his shoulder, a pair of joggers slung low on his hips. His brows pulled together just slightly — not enough to show real concern, but enough to say he noticed.

“You okay, babe?”

You forced a small smile, eyes flicking back to your phone. “Yeah. Just thinking about something.”

He crossed the room and leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. His hands were still warm from the shower, and he smelled like that cedar body wash he always used. Normally, it made you feel safe. Today, it barely registered.

“What’re you thinking about?” he asked, voice softer now. “Another mission?”

You nodded slowly, lying without even blinking. “Yeah… a recon thing Tony wants to send me on.”

He stepped back a little, arms crossed loosely over his chest. “Recon? Didn’t you just come back yesterday?”

You shrugged, eyes drifting back to the muted screen. “Evil never sleeps.”

He snorted at that. “Right, the Avengers’ slogan, apparently.”

You chuckled lightly, but your chest felt tight. You hated how easy this was. Lying. Dodging. Smiling through it. It didn’t used to be like this.

He leaned against the back of the couch, fingers drumming casually on the wood.

“Who are you getting paired with?”

You glanced up again. “Not sure yet.”

“Hope it’s Natasha or Wanda. Just not James,” he said with a teasing tone, but there was something behind it. Something a little too careful.

“Huh?”

He smiled, but it was the kind of smile people wear when they’re trying to make something sound like a joke. “Nothing personal. I know he’s a good guy. You guys are just… always paired up. It’s like a pattern.”

You looked back at your phone, jaw tight. “We work well together. That’s all.”

He didn’t let it drop. “I don’t think he likes me.”

You sighed. “Of course he likes you.”

“Has he said that?” he asked, keeping his voice light but direct. “Or is that just what you think?”

You hesitated.

“Both?” you said, but it came out more like a question than an answer.

He gave a slow nod, like he heard more in your pause than in your words. “Right.”

There was a silence. Not cold — just… different. Like the mood had shifted a few inches to the left.

You cleared your throat. “You want hard shells or soft?”

He grinned faintly, pushing off the couch. “Let’s do both. Live dangerously.”

You watched him disappear into the kitchen, heard the sound of cabinets opening, tortillas being pulled out, the fridge door squeaking. You should’ve gone after him. Should’ve said something to smooth it over.

But instead, you just sat there. Staring at the screen.

Thinking about someone else’s voice.

Someone else’s hands.

Someone else who made your heart beat faster for all the wrong reasons.

And you hated that part of you hoped it would be James.

Again.

The sizzle of ground beef filled the kitchen. He was humming to himself, low and off-key — some song he’d picked up from a TikTok and half-forgotten. You stood at the counter beside him, chopping lettuce. The air smelled like cumin and garlic, and for a moment, it almost felt normal again.

Almost.

“Grab the salsa from the fridge?” he asked.

You nodded, reaching over without a word. You could feel his eyes on you — not in a suspicious way, just… attentive. Like he was trying to figure out what was floating behind your silence.

He didn’t say anything for a few beats. Then, as casually as he could manage:

“You’re always different when you get back from a mission.”

You froze, hand still wrapped around the salsa jar. “Different how?”

He shrugged, taking a step back to lean against the counter. “Just quieter. Distant, maybe. You don’t really talk about what happens out there.”

You set the jar down a little harder than you meant to. “Because most of it sucks.”

“I get that,” he said gently. “But sometimes it feels like you’re not really here, even when you are.”

You didn’t answer. Just went back to the lettuce, chopping slower now.

He exhaled through his nose, tired. “And when it is James you’re paired with, it’s even worse.”

You looked up, sharp this time. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I know you,” he said, calm but firm. “And I see how you are with him.”

You opened your mouth to deny it — had the words ready on instinct. But nothing came out.

Because he wasn’t wrong.

Not entirely.

You and Bucky had been paired so many times now that it didn’t feel weird anymore. You’d seen each other bleeding, broken, barely conscious — and you’d always come back alive. Together. There was something sacred in that. Something magnetic you never fully unpacked.

But you hadn’t done anything.

Not yet.

Your boyfriend rubbed at his jaw, glancing away. “I’m not trying to start a fight, alright? I just… I don’t want to be the only one noticing what’s going on here.”

You stared at him, throat thick. “Nothing’s going on.”

He nodded slowly, like he was giving you space to stick to that lie. “Cool.”

The timer on the oven beeped, sharp and unwelcome. You both flinched slightly.

He moved to take the taco shells out, muttering something about them burning. And just like that, the conversation was over. Sealed under a layer of melted cheese and ground beef and fake smiles.

But the silence that followed wasn’t the same.

It wasn’t warm or comfortable.

It was the kind that made you ache for noise — or maybe just for the right voice.

Because while he was setting plates on the table, you were picturing metal fingers brushing against yours in a med bay.

While he asked you to pass the guac, you were remembering the way Bucky had looked at you last week when you got hit — like the idea of losing you would’ve destroyed him.

And when your boyfriend laughed at something dumb on the TV later that night…

you weren’t thinking about tacos anymore.

You were thinking about how wrong it felt to be held by someone who didn’t make you feel like you were standing on the edge of something dangerous.

You sat at the table while he finished loading the plates. The clink of cutlery, the hum of the overhead light, the smell of seasoned meat — all the normal things. And yet none of it felt… right.

Your boyfriend slid a plate in front of you and then one for himself. “Okay,” he said, sitting down across from you, “so hear me out—what if next weekend, we actually take a day off and do something? Like normal people?”

You gave him a small smile, picking at your taco shell. “Like what?”

“I don’t know… a beach day? Or just drive upstate? Hell, we could go full suburbia and hit a farmer’s market.”

You smiled again, this time a little more genuinely. “You, willingly waking up early for vegetables?”

“Okay, fair, I’d complain the whole time. But I’d still go. For you.”

You nodded, then took a small bite. It was good. Warm. Normal. Everything it was supposed to be.

“Doesn’t that sound nice?” he added, watching you.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “It does.”

He hummed, like he was half-lost in thought, then suddenly snapped his fingers. “A party?”

“Party?” you blinked, pulled halfway out of your thoughts.

“Yeah!” he leaned back in his chair, suddenly energized. “Why not? It’s been forever since the avengers did something fun.“

You tilted your head, chewing slowly. “Since when do you plan parties?”

“I don’t,” he grinned, pointing at you with his fork. “You do.”

You scoffed. “Wow. Generous.”

“C’mon, babe,” he said, nudging your knee under the table. “You’re way better at that kind of stuff anyway. You’ve got the whole… Avengers social balance thing down.”

“That’s just code for my girlfriend is an avenger so she has hook ups for my next scoop.”

“Exactly.” He leaned in, eyes warm. “Just think about it. You, me, the team, a night off for once. It’ll be good for you.”

You gave him a small smirk. “Good for you, you mean.”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugged, shameless. “But good for all of us too.”

You shook your head, pretending to be annoyed — but a small part of you was already cycling through logistics. Who to invite. How to keep it low-key. How to make it not feel awkward, especially with—

You cut the thought off before it could finish.

“Fine,” you sighed. “I’ll plan it.”

He lit up, tossing his fork onto his now-empty plate. “Yes. You’re the best.”

You stood to start clearing the table and muttered, “I know.”

As you turned, your phone buzzed on the counter. You glanced at the screen. A message from Natasha:

“Whatcha doing later?”

You snorted, typing back one-handed:

“Apparently. Planning a party.”

But just as you hit send, your eyes lifted toward your boyfriend. “Since I’m planning it Nat and Wanda doing it with me, cool?”

“Cool.”

——

[Party day]

Nat pursed her lips as she surveyed the overloaded shopping cart with something between amusement and mild judgment. There were LED lights, black and gold streamers, way too many disco balls, a fog machine that Wanda insisted on, and enough plastic cups to hydrate a small army.

“What kind of party even is this?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

“Something sexy,” you said with a grin, tossing a handful of metallic confetti into the pile. “Wanna get turnt the fuck up.”

Wanda laughed, holding up a pack of temporary tattoos. “Oh, we’re going full reckless.”

“I mean…” you shrugged, feigning lightness. “Why not? We’ve all been tense. I figured, let’s have one night where we dance like we don’t know what trauma is.”

Nat gave you a side-eye. “You sure this isn’t just a distraction from something else?”

You gave her a tight smile. “What else would I be distracting myself from?”

Wanda’s soft voice chimed in before Nat could press. “What’s the occasion, anyway?”

“Nothing crazy,” you replied quickly, like that made it true. “Just… wanted to have fun. So—who’s coming and who’s not coming?”

Nat, deciding not to call you out just yet, pulled out her phone. “Okay, let’s see… obviously Tony, Clint, Steve, Peter and his girl, Sam, Yelena, Vision, Bruce, T’Challa, Shuri…”

You nodded along, your mind trying to stay in sync with her list. But as the names kept coming, a hollow kind of weight settled in your chest.

You hadn’t heard his name.

Not once.

And you’d waited.

You’d given it time.

You’d told yourself he was busy — it was Bucky, after all. He could be anywhere. Maybe his phone died. Maybe he was off-grid.

Still, you pulled your phone out. Checked.

Your message from the night before sat there like a quiet mistake.

“Hey. Party this tomorrow night at tower. Come by?”

Read.

No reply.

You cursed yourself internally — not for texting him, but for checking again like you were in high school waiting on some boy who didn’t even know you existed. Except Bucky Barnes knew you. Too well. That was the problem.

Your phone buzzed.

Your heart stupidly jumped.

Hey just thinking about you, I miss you.

From your boyfriend.

Of course.

You stared at the message for a moment, lips parting like you might reply. But you didn’t.

Instead, you locked the screen and shoved it into your jacket pocket like the whole thing annoyed you more than it should’ve.

Wanda, bag of mini lanterns in hand, glanced over. “You okay?”

You forced a smile — the kind that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah. Just debating if I bought enough tequila or not.”

Nat was still scrolling her list, pretending not to notice the shift in your energy. But you caught the subtle glance she gave you — sharp, knowing, quiet.

She always knew when you were lying.

“Okay,” you said, clapping your hands once with artificial brightness. “Let’s check out and get to decorating. Tonight is about forgetting. Or pretending. Or both.”

Wanda laughed again, “Sounds like a plan.”

The living room looked nothing like it did a few hours ago. Music was already playing low from the speakers — just a warm-up playlist — while the windows shimmered with fairy lights. You were stringing up the last of the black and gold banners while Nat stacked solo cups into dangerously tall pyramids that looked more like a dare than a decoration.

Wanda was on the floor, barefoot, crouched in front of a cluster of LED candles and a bowl of chips, deciding which looked more aesthetically pleasing beside the speakers. She kept humming, light and content, but every so often she’d glance at you.

You didn’t notice at first. You were too busy smoothing out wrinkles in the tablecloth that didn’t really matter and checking your phone screen when no one was looking — even though it hadn’t lit up in over an hour.

Still no message. Still nothing from Bucky.

Wanda’s voice broke softly through the haze. “You’ve been folding that corner for five minutes.”

You blinked. Looked down. The tablecloth was fine. Flawless, even.

“Oh,” you muttered. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

“Mmm.” Wanda stood up slowly, brushing off her leggings. “Thinking about him?”

Your eyes lifted. You didn’t say anything.

She gave a small shrug. “You don’t have to answer. I just… I feel it. The way your energy shifts when you check your phone. When someone mentions his name. It’s like you tense, then try to pretend you didn’t.”

You sighed, finally letting yourself sink onto the arm of the couch. The room was glowing now — warm and soft — and for a second you wished you could just feel it. Just be present. But your brain didn’t want to play along.

“I invited him,” you admitted. “He read the message. Didn’t reply.”

Wanda’s expression didn’t change. “Do you want him here?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Yes... I mean I invited everyone.”

“That’s fair.” She perched on the edge of the coffee table across from you, her fingers brushing lightly across one of the fake candles.

Wanda smiled sadly. “That’s the thing about two people who guard their hearts like weapons. Sooner or later, someone bleeds.”

You looked at her for a long second.

“I don’t even know why I care,” you finally said. “I’m with someone. He’s good to me. He doesn’t leave me on read. He texts just to say he misses me. And I keep waiting for a man who won’t even—”

Your voice cracked a little. You swallowed it back.

Wanda reached over and placed her hand lightly over yours. “Sometimes we fall for people who feel like war. And it’s hard to walk away from that, even when peace is standing right in front of us.”

You didn’t answer right away. You just looked at the lights you’d strung up, watched the way they glowed gold across the wall.

“I don’t want to ruin anything,” you whispered. “But I can’t stop thinking about him.”

Wanda squeezed your hand once, then let go.

“Whatever you decide,” she said softly, “we’re always right behind you. Even if it’s wrong.”

The words settled in your chest — not as comfort, exactly, but as permission. To feel everything you weren’t supposed to feel. To not have all the answers.

From across the room, Nat snickered as she adjusted the lighting behind the drink table. “You sure you’re not throwing this party for him?”

You looked up, startled. “What?”

She shot you a smirk over her shoulder. “Come on. You haven’t cared this much about streamers since Tony’s birthday bash two years ago. And this whole just wanna have fun vibe?” She twirled a string of LED stars around her fingers. “You mean just wanna see if Bucky shows up looking hot and moody again.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile cracked through before you could stop it. “Wow. You’re both so annoying.”

“Correct,” Wanda said with a small grin, standing to help Nat with the lights. “But not wrong.”

You tried to fight your grin off, but it lingered anyway — soft, crooked, worn thin with nerves.

“Okay,” you admitted, voice dry, “maybe, like… 8% of this party was Bucky-motivated.”

Nat scoffed. “More like 80%.”

You shot her a look. “Don’t you have cups to stack?”

“I already did,” she said proudly. “And they look like a Pinterest board from hell, so I’m free to judge.”

Wanda giggled and looped an arm through yours, guiding you back toward the couch for a second of calm before the guests started showing up. “Listen, whether he comes or not, this night’s about you. Having fun. Dancing. Getting a little too drunk. Probably fake-laughing at something Tony says and then actually laughing when he falls in the pool.”

You huffed out a breath, letting yourself relax just a little into her side. “I just don’t want him to walk in and think it means something. Or worse… not walk in at all and I still wish he did.”

Wanda bumped her shoulder against yours gently. “You’re allowed to want both. Just don’t let it steal your night.”

And with that, the doorbell rang.

Nat clapped her hands. “Showtime.”

…

“Jarvis, play my favorite song of the week!” Tony shouted over the music, already halfway through whatever drink he had in his hand — something neon, suspiciously strong-smelling, and definitely not FDA-approved.

With a groan, you and Bruce exchanged a look from your shared spot near the kitchen island.

“Here we go,” you muttered.

Bruce adjusted his glasses with a small sigh. “God help us.”

A second later, the speakers shifted, bass dropping so hard it made the floor vibrate. The sound of Party on You by Charli XCX flooded the room — sharp, confident, unapologetic — and suddenly the whole party shifted. Louder. Wilder. People shouted in recognition. Nat threw her head back and screamed, “This is my SHIT!” while Peter tried to dance and not spill a single drop of punch, clearly failing both.

Tony fist-pumped the air like he’d just saved the world. “You’re welcome!”

“This is an odd song for Tony to be listening to on repeat,” Steve said, sipping his drink grimly.

You laughed, shaking your head, but there was something in you — tight in your chest — that didn’t ease with the music. Your fingers tapped anxiously against your cup. Your eyes kept drifting to the door.

Steve noticed.

He didn’t say anything for a while, just sipped his drink and leaned against the wall beside you, eyes casually scanning the party — but you could feel it. That quiet, observant weight only Steve Rogers could carry. Then he finally said, low enough for just you:

“Hey… you’ve had that look on your face all night.”

You smirked without looking at him. “What look?”

“The one that says you’d rather be anywhere but here,” he said softly. “Y/N, come on. I know you. What’s the matter?”

You glanced at him — at those familiar, kind eyes — and for a second, you considered telling him. Really telling him. Letting it all spill out in a messy confession of things you weren’t supposed to feel, names you weren’t supposed to want to say.

But instead, you forced a smile. Light. Dismissive.

“I’m fine, Steve. Just hungry.”

Steve furrowed his brow like he didn’t buy it for a second. “Is this about Buck—?”

You took a long sip of your drink and cut him off with a raised finger. “Mmm…”

Steve exhaled through his nose. You felt him hesitate, caught between pushing and backing off — he knew your dance too well by now. But before he could say anything else—

“There’s my favorite girl.”

Your boyfriend’s voice slid through the music and landed right between you and Steve. You turned, and there he was, grinning, drink in hand, walking toward you like he hadn’t a single care in the world.

Steve stepped back instinctively. His eyes flicked between the two of you. Then they caught yours — and something shifted. He got it. You weren’t just anxious. You were torn.

He gave a small nod, not saying a word, just clapping your boyfriend once on the shoulder as he passed and muttering, “Good to see you, man,” before disappearing into the crowd.

Your boyfriend slipped his arm around your waist without missing a beat.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “This party’s insane. You seriously did all this?”

You smiled automatically. “Nat and Wanda helped.”

“Well,” he said, raising his cup, “remind me to thank them before I get too drunk to remember anyone but you.”

You laughed — quiet, controlled — but your eyes wandered again. Across the party. Past dancing bodies and half-empty cups and dim lights.

Your boyfriend took a step back from you, his eyes wandering your body with a sweet smile, “You look so freaking good.”

“Thanks,” you smiled. “You too.”

“Dance with me,” he said grabbing your hand gently.

Your boyfriend tugged you toward the dance floor, and you let him — mostly because it was easier than explaining why you didn’t want to move. Why every inch of your skin felt two seconds too late for your own body. Why your chest was too tight in the middle of a party you helped plan.

Charli XCX still blasted through the speakers, her voice wild and bold:

“I only threw this party for you…”

The line hit you harder than it should’ve.

You smiled up at him — your boyfriend, the good guy. The sweet one. The one who adored you out loud, who didn’t make you guess or dig for his affection. He spun you lazily in a circle, grinning like you were the only one in the room.

You should have felt lucky.

Instead, the lyrics throbbed in your ears:

“I was hoping you’d come through…”

You closed your eyes for a second too long. Tried to blame the wine. The lights. The way Wanda’s glitter highlighter was somehow still on your cheek from earlier.

Your boyfriend leaned closer, hands gentle on your hips, swaying with the beat.

“You sure everything’s okay?” he murmured against your ear. “You’ve been kind of… off tonight.”

Your throat tightened. “I’m just tired.”

He nodded, believing you — because he always believed you. That was the worst part. He wasn’t clueless. Just trusting. And you had nothing but guilt tucked in behind your ribs.

You forced a grin and bumped his shoulder with yours. “Besides, you’re the one who wanted this party, remember? I just made it happen.”

“And you crushed it,” he said sincerely, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I owe you big time. Like dinner, flowers, foot rub kind of big.”

You laughed, soft and real, because he was trying. Always trying. He leaned in to kiss you, and you let him. Let his lips press to yours. Let your arms wrap around him like they knew the script.

But the whole time, the song kept going.

“And I’m waiting for you by the window, yeah.”

And you hated how much your eyes still searched the party.

How a part of you — the reckless part, the stupid part — still wanted to see him walk through the door again. Still wanted to know if he cared that he’d left you on read. Still wanted one damn look that said he remembered how you felt when the world went quiet and you weren’t pretending.

You pulled back from the kiss and smiled, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Your eyes wandered back to Steve, who was leaning against the wall, arms crossed casually over his chest — but you could tell by the way his body subtly shifted forward, by the flicker of something more alert in his eyes, that his attention had hooked onto the door.

He smiled, small but unmistakably real, and stepped forward like instinct.

You followed his gaze.

And there he was.

Bucky.

At 10:38 PM.

He was here.

At your party.

Your stomach twisted in a way that made your breath catch, like you’d swallowed something sharp and it lodged behind your heart. The room didn’t go quiet, but it felt like it did — like someone had hit mute on the rest of the world just for a second so you could watch him cross the threshold.

Black shirt, sleeves pushed up just enough to show the dark glint of metal. His hair was tied back, his jaw set with that usual unreadable calm. But his eyes… his eyes scanned the room until they landed on you.

For one second — maybe two — no one else existed.

Not your boyfriend. Not the Avengers. Not the music pulsing through the walls or the laughter echoing off the ceiling.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Blood singer, part 11

Summary: Y/N gets the answers she's seeking, and a little taste of all she's been wishing for.

Warnings (be mindful of your triggers): injury, blood and death, angst, fluff, grief, swearing, sexual content, mentions of mental health struggles, alcohol, eating disorder, mentions of a period

Pairing: Jasper Hale x human!reader (blood singer), Paul Lahote x human!reader

Word count: 10.8k

Blood singer - Series Masterlist

Three days.

It’s been three days since she last saw Jasper. Three days without a text, without his voice and that gentle, comforting presence he infects her with in every glance, every touch.

She turns her head, staring at her phone like it’s personally betrayed her. No calls. No missed messages. Not even a photo to hold onto.

Not one photo.

In all the time they’ve spent together, in all the stolen moments and whispered promises, they never once thought to take a picture. To capture a moment, any moment really. So now, when she needs to see him most, she has nothing. Nothing but the silence and the sick ache of missing him.

Her fingers curl into the blanket, pulling it up to her chest. It’s not fair. It’s just not fair.  And in that unfairness, she can’t help the darkness slipping past her defenses. It’s anger. Anger at herself, at him, at everyone.

She didn’t realize how deep the questions had rooted themselves until they started festering. Until Kim’s words echoed in her mind again and again, repeating like a broken record, unrelenting.

“Because you didn’t know what to ask. And he knew that. But he didn’t offer anything either. And you’re allowed to be angry about that.”

She bites her lower lip hard enough to crack skin, feeling the metallic taste of her own blood. She hates that it’s true and Kim’s right. They all are, because the more people talk, the more she realizes just how little she knows. And she’s supposed to be his mate? Then why is it everyone else seems to know Jasper better than she ever could?

Alice. The Volturi. The newborn army. Bella’s pregnancy. All of it. It’s not just these secrets, it’s a whole damn life he never shared. And she tells herself she’ll bring it up. That next time he walks through the door, she won’t let him sweep her off her feet, not until she has her answers. But deep down, she knows she’ll crumble the moment he touches her. She always does.

The second his fingers brush her cheek, the fight will leave her body. She’ll become weightless, pliable, completely ruined in his embrace. She won’t care what she doesn’t know, not when he’s touching her, not when he’s holding her like she’s the only thing keeping him alive.

Jasper is a weakness. A beautiful, terrifying weakness she can’t fight.

So, she reaches for her phone. She doesn’t text to tell him she loves him. Or to say how much she misses him. No. Not this time.

She types questions, accusing in their bluntness. Her thumbs move quickly, the words tumbling out in a flood:

When did you meet Alice? What history do you share with her? Do you love her? What newborn army did you fight? Who are the Volturi? Why is your family on their radar? Why didn’t you tell me about Bella’s pregnancy?

Her heart races the moment the last question is typed. Her thumb hovers over the send button. She doesn’t press it. It’s just a draft, something she can glance at later if he tries to charm his way around it.

She exhales shakily, going to tap “Save as Draft.”

And that’s when her screen lights up. A message from Jasper. Three words.

I miss you.

Somehow the weight on her chest grows. She holds her breath, trying to stifle the forceful rush in her chest, but a sound escapes her, choked out, something between a sob and a sigh. The message is simple, tender, and achingly sincere. Her heart swells and shatters in the same breath.

She fumbles, desperate to reply with something equally heartfelt, something that doesn’t sound needy, but says everything. Her fingers move fast. But in her rush, with her trembling hands, her thumb slips.

Send.

The questions. All of them. Sent!

“Oh my God.”

She stares at the screen in horror. Her face drains of color. She scrambles upright in bed, clutching the phone like it might explode.

“Oh my GOD.”

The panic hits hard as her hands fly to her mouth. She makes a strangled noise, a gasp, a wail as the weight of what she’s done slams into her.

Her stomach twists. Her heart pounds. The room is spinning around her. She’s pacing barefoot on the cold wooden floor, phone clenched in both hands like she could somehow delete the message through sheer will.

“What did I do?” she hisses aloud, barely breathing. Her skin feels hot, then cold with sweat. Shame rises in waves. Her face is burning, her ears ringing louder than her thoughts.

The message wasn’t kind. It wasn’t fair. It was accusatory, even cruel in how sterile the wording is. And now he has it. Now Jasper will read it, and think… She doesn't even know what he’ll think, but her heart is in her throat. Her ribs ache from the force of her quick, shallow breathing.

Please don’t hate me, she thinks, as if he can hear her now.

She walks to the window and presses her forehead against the glass, eyes squeezed shut. Her pulse is everywhere, screaming in her head, in her chest, in her knees. Three days without him, and now she’s ruined everything.

And worst of all, some part of her, some reckless, furious, desperately hurt part of her isn’t sorry she asked. She just wishes it hadn’t happened this way.

And then he’s there. She doesn’t need to look. She always feels him before she sees him.

“Darlin’?”

His voice is soft, confused, tinged with concern. She turns, eyes wide and glassy, chest still rising in sharp, unsteady movements.

Jasper stands by her bedroom door, hair tousled, golden eyes scanning her with worry. He's in the clothes she last saw him in, but they look a little dirtier, a little more rumpled.

He steps forward, then faster when he realizes the full state of her.

“Oh, Darlin’…” he breathes, crossing the room in a blink.

Before she can even register the movement, his arms are wrapping around her from behind, one arm slotted under her chest, the other around her waist, holding her like the only thing keeping her upright. She shudders at the contact, the sound that escapes her throat filled with relief, and maybe a little bit of heartbreak.

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay,” he whispers against the side of her head, voice warm. “I feel it too. I felt your panic. You think I’d let you go through that alone?”

His hand comes up, brushing her hair off her face, then sliding gently over her ribcage. She turns in his arms without thinking, needing more of him. Her fingers grab at the fabric at his chest as she buries herself in him, her body trembling.

He presses his cheek against the top of her head, swaying slightly, grounding her with the movement.

“I just got back. I wanted to come see you the moment I was done and I almost did,” he murmurs, voice still playful around the edges, though she can hear how heavy the emotions are underneath it. “But I didn’t wanna risk it. As good as my control is, I didn’t think we should risk it.”

A kiss lands on her temple. Then another. Softer.

“I missed you,” he says, nuzzling her hair. “Three days without you and I’m losing my damn mind. Wrestling bears in the woods like it’ll keep my thoughts off you.”

She lets out a half-choked laugh into his chest, fingers curling tighter into his shirt.

“Wait… did you actually fight a bear and win?” she mumbles, voice muffled.

“Well,” he says, smiling into her hair, “depends who you ask. I say it was a fair fight. Carlisle says I was bein’ dramatic. Bear says I talk too much.”

She laughs again, weaker this time, but real.

“I thought maybe you replaced me with the poster boy from Heroes,” he says with a grin, pulling back just enough to look her in the eye, his arms still circling her. “What was his name? Peter Petrelli?”

Y/N blinks, snorts, then shoves him half-heartedly.

“I would never,” she says, voice shaking but steadier now.

“I know. But it would’ve been a low blow if you ditched me for a guy who steals powers, Darlin’.” He dips his head a little, his forehead touching hers. “Tell me you missed me too. Lie if you have to.”

She exhales, lips trembling. “I missed you so bad I forgot how to breathe.”

His expression softens further, his hands coming up to cup her cheeks. He rests his lips on her forehead for a long moment, then slowly guides her to sit down on the edge of the bed.

Still silent, Jasper kneels in front of her, hands cradling hers gently like he’s afraid they’ll break. He doesn’t speak at first, just looks up at her, his expression open and clear.

Then, as she watches, he bends his head and presses a slow, lingering kiss to each of her knuckles. One after the other.

“I’m not mad about the questions,” he says quietly, voice low and careful. “I should’ve told you things. You deserved to know them without having to pull teeth to get them.”

She looks at him, her eyes glassy again, but the panic has ebbed, replaced with a quiet ache in her chest.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he continues, fingers gliding gently over hers. “You’re allowed to ask. Hell, you should ask. You think I wouldn’t if the roles were flipped?”

Her silence is answer enough.

He tilts his head, gazing up at her like she’s the only thing that matters. “I felt your panic like it was my own. I was on the cliffs when it hit me. My chest just locked up.”

She holds her breath, afraid it would stop his admission.

“I’ve never felt your emotions from so far away before,” he adds, his thumb sweeping the back of her hand. “So I knew you needed me. Didn’t even hesitate.”

“I thought you’d hate me for being pushy about it,” she admits, her voice small, uncertain.

Jasper’s expression doesn’t falter. If anything, his brows furrow deeper, not in anger, but in pain. He lifts her hands again, presses his lips to her fingertips this time.

“Hate you?” he echoes. “You could set me on fire, and I’d still ask if you needed another match.”

That draws a fragile, wet laugh from her lips.

He smiles too, wider now, pleased he’s making headway. “’Besides, your scent’s all but a comfort to me now. You think I’d show up during your period and touch you if I was still fightin’ to keep my teeth to myself?”

She shakes her head slowly, the realization settling in. He’s calm. Clear. Not even a flicker of hunger in his eyes, only warmth, only her.

“I missed you every second,” he murmurs, rising just enough to kiss the inside of her wrist. “And not just your scent that’s drawing me to you. I missed your voice. Your laugh. The way you make dinner and forget it in the oven. The way you talk in your sleep and always kick the blankets off your feet.”

She blushes, lips parting. “I do not.”

“You do,” he grins. “It’s adorable.”

He crawls up beside her on the bed now, arm draping around her shoulders, pulling her close. Her head falls easily against his chest. Jasper’s hold on her tightens slightly, just enough for her to feel the tremor beneath his stillness.

They sit like that for a long moment, her head on his chest, his chin resting on the top of her head, the two of them breathing quietly, enjoying the silence. But her heart hasn’t stopped racing. The words she’s held in for too long are still there, trembling on the edge of her tongue, begging to be freed.

Her fingers shift where they rest on his chest, sliding under the open edge of his shirt, touching the place just above his silent heart. The weight of his past is lodged between them, invisible but suffocating, and her lips part.

"You never told me what she means to you," she says quietly, barely a whisper, but he stiffens all the same. Her voice wavers. "When I would visit Forks, I remember the rumors about you and Alice being a couple. I’ve even seen you two at Bella and Edward’s wedding.”

Jasper doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. His jaw is tight, but his eyes are full of guilt.

“I..." she swallows thickly, sitting up just enough to look at him. "I don’t want to be second best. I don’t want to give you my heart if I’m just a placeholder for you.”

Her voice breaks at the end, and even though she tries to pull back, he doesn't let her. His hand moves to her cheek, anchoring her there. His eyes are golden, glowing with more emotion than she’s ever seen in them.

“Y/N,” he says firmly. “You are never second best.”

His voice is steady. Absolute.

“You’re my first and only choice.” He brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering along her jaw. “I loved Alice, I won’t lie to you about that. She was my friend. My family. And for a time, we were a lot more. I still love her.”

Her eyes begin to brim with tears again.

“But I’m not in love with her,” he says, his voice unwavering. “I haven’t been for a long time. What we had ended years before I ever laid eyes on you. Before I ever felt you.”

She inhales shakily. “So then why...?” Her voice rises slightly, raw with hurt. “Why do you keep me at a distance? Why don’t you ever just let me all the way in? I’ve shown you the worst of me, but you hold your past back and I don’t understand why. Didn’t I prove I’d stay regardless how dark it gets?”

Jasper is stricken with her words, his hands gripping hers tighter now. His voice softens to something barely above a murmur.

“I’m worried about overwhelming you,” he admits. “But you’re right. You deserve more.” He leans forward, pressing their foreheads together again. “I’ve been a coward, trying to protect you from the weight of my past. But I see now that protecting you isn’t about hiding myself. Not if it makes you feel like you’re on the outside looking in.”

She says nothing, her gaze chained to his with unwavering attention.

“I’ll tell you everything,” he promises. “Start to finish. Because I never want you to think you’re not my priority ever again. You are everything. Everything to me. I love you. I’ve loved you for as long as I’ve known you, and you have me. Unbeating heart and damned soul. If you’ll have me, it’s all yours.”

She swallows thickly, and he feels the way she softens, the way she leans into the words like they’re the first real warmth she’s felt in days.

“Okay,” she whispers. “But please remember that I don’t want a curated version of you,” she says, voice trembling. “I want you. The whole, messy, complicated you.”

And so, Jasper speaks. He speaks for hours.

They curl into the bed together, her legs tangled with his, her head resting against his chest while he threads his fingers through her hair and tells her everything. His voice never falters. He tells her about his time in the army once he was turned. He doesn’t hide the gore, the choices he made that colored the streets red, the brutal years spent building and training newborn armies. He talks about the bloodshed, the way the memories haunt him, and how Peter, his friend and brother in arms was the one who helped him escape.

He speaks of Alice, how she found him when he was barely hanging on to sanity, how she offered him hope, a vision of something better. He tells Y/N how they tried, and how for the longest time it felt like he was right where he’s meant to be. But it didn’t last, because Alice saw something in a vision…someone, and realized that her role in his life was never meant to be forever.

“She saw you,” Jasper says softly, brushing a knuckle under Y/N’s chin. “Long before you and I ever met, she saw you. And she loved me enough to let me go.”

Y/N is crying now, quiet tears sliding down her cheeks. He kisses them away between stories, never stopping.

He tells her about the Cullen family, about the Volturi’s threats, the newborn army that came for them, about the chaos surrounding Bella’s pregnancy, Renesmee’s birth. He tells her about fighting for his life and the lives of those he loves, promising he’d fight for her if it ever came down to that too.

He holds nothing back except one thing. One truth stays locked inside his mind.

He doesn’t tell her that they met once before. That on that night he cornered her in a dark alley, he lost control. Or how she smelled so devastatingly sweet, so perfect, he lunged before he could think and barely managed to stop himself. That Edward had to erase it from her mind. That he’s carried the shame of it like a brand ever since.

He wants to tell her. But he doesn’t. Not yet. Not when she’s finally looking at him with trust in her eyes. Instead, he holds her. Murmurs reassurances between kisses to her hair and temple. Wraps her up like she’s breakable, precious.

And Y/N, overwhelmed but relieved, finally speaks.

“I want you to know I love you too,” she whispers. “All of you. Even the parts that scare you.”

Jasper presses a kiss to her lips, gentle and sweet. “You have me,” he murmurs. “All of me.”

The room has gone quiet again, a comfortable hush layered in the aftermath of all Jasper’s confessions. Y/N is still curled into his side, legs tangled with his under the blanket, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the line of muscle along his stomach where his shirt has ridden up. The silence is warm now, thick with things unspoken but not heavy.

Still, something tugs at him. That scent; salt and pine. Familiar and unwelcome. It clings faintly to her skin, sharper than her usual scent.

Jasper shifts, not enough to pull away, just enough to study her face better, fingers brushing back the wisps of hair falling across her cheek. He presses a soft kiss there, lets it linger longer than necessary.

“You smell different tonight,” he says casually, nuzzling the curve of her neck. “Like… the ocean breeze.” His lips brush her jaw as he adds, “And the forest after it rains.”

She hums, amused, but doesn’t answer. Just slides her hand higher along his side, smoothing up his ribcage. “That a compliment or are you trying to tell me I stink?”

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s not unpleasant,” he says, light as air, “just... not you. Not entirely.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Maybe I took a detour through the woods and bathed in seafoam.”

He chuckles, low and playful. “Mm. Must’ve stopped to roll in it too, darlin’. You’ve got traces of wolf on you.”

Y/N stiffens just slightly, barely perceptible to most, but Jasper feels the tension ripple through her body like a current.

“A wolf?” she echoes, trying to keep her voice casual. “Like… an actual one?”

Jasper’s hand moves to her lower back, slow, deliberate. He draws idle circles there with the pad of his thumb. “No,” he says, feigning thoughtfulness. “More like… a wet dog. A big one. Who’s known to run with no shirt and way too much bravado.”

She snorts. “Wow. You’re getting weirdly specific.”

He smiles, but there’s a sharpness to it now. “Did you, by any chance, hug a certain someone from La Push recently?”

Y/N shifts, eyes narrowing as she props herself up on an elbow. “Is that your roundabout way of asking if I saw Paul?”

He lifts a brow, “Did you?”

“Maybe,” she replies, deliberately vague. “Why?”

Jasper’s fingers trail up her spine now, slow and feather light. “Just curious. You smell like him.” He leans closer, murmurs near her ear. “And I don’t like it.”

Y/N laughs, turning her head so their noses almost brush. “Are you jealous?”

“No,” he says far too quickly.

She smirks.

He kisses her before she can push further, a soft press of lips that deepens quickly, hungrily, betraying the possessiveness simmering just beneath his calm. When he pulls back, their foreheads rest together, breath mingling.

“I just think,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from her face, “that if a girl smells like another man, the man she comes home to has a right to know why.”

Her smile fades into something softer, more sincere. “We didn’t do anything, Jasper. I promise. I hadn’t seen since the hospital and I didn’t even intend to see him now. It was brief.”

His jaw ticks, just slightly, but he nods. “Okay.”

She cups his face, thumb brushing his cheekbone. “You could’ve just asked me, you know.”

“I didn’t want to come off as insecure,” he admits.

“You didn’t,” she says. “You came off like someone who thinks I rolled in seafoam and dog hair.”

That gets a real laugh out of him. “I don’t like that he still has access to you,” Jasper says quietly, thumb stroking the curve of her hip beneath the blanket. “That he gets to be close enough to leave a trace.”

Her expression softens. “He doesn’t have my heart. You do.”

He leans in, pressing a kiss just beneath her ear. “I know. But I’m not used to... feeling this much. Wanting this much. It’s hard not to guard it.”

“I’m not a possession you have to protect,” she says, hands framing his face now. “I’m a choice you get to keep making.”

He kisses her again, slower this time. Devouring the traces of Paul’s scent from her lips, her neck, her skin.

“I’ll always choose you,” he whispers. “Even when I’m being petty and sniffing you like a jealous bloodhound.”

She bursts out laughing, collapsing into his chest. “God, you’re the worst.”

“And yet, you keep coming back,” he drawls, wrapping both arms around her and pulling her flush against him.

She rests her cheek over his chest again, sighing contentedly. “Yeah. I do.”

And for now, that’s enough. Even if Paul’s scent lingers a little longer, Jasper clings to the truth in her voice. To the way she’s curled into him like she belongs there. Because she does. Because she’s his.

Y/N traces the edge of Jasper’s collar with her fingertip, letting it dip just slightly beneath the fabric. She can feel his stillness, the way every part of him is trained on her, like he’s memorizing the weight of her hand, the sound of her breathing, the shape of her mouth just before she speaks.

“I love kissing you,” she says, the words shy but certain, barely more than a breath against his lips.

His golden eyes soften, gaze darkening with something deeper. “Yeah?” he murmurs, voice thick.

She nods, then grins impishly. “Maybe I should hang around Paul more often if this is the punishment.”

Jasper’s jaw drops in mock offense, hand flying dramatically to his chest. “Don’t you dare!”

She giggles, the sound lighting him up from the inside, cracking through the tension he’s been holding. He catches her laughter with his mouth, kissing her again, but this time it’s different. Hungrier. Less careful.

He tastes like honey and her favorite ice cream, like something she could drown in if she let herself. Her lips part under his and he groans lowly, just once, letting her relish in the sound of a man barely hanging onto control.

Her hand curls into the front of his shirt, clutching, like she needs something to tether herself. He takes the invitation without question, shifting over her so their bodies align, pressing her down into the mattress with the full length of his weight.

His hand finds her waist, cold fingers slipping beneath the hem of her shirt. She gasps at the sudden chill, her skin errupting in goosebumps, but she doesn’t pull away. If anything, she presses into him, arching slightly.

“Sorry,” he whispers, though the smirk on his lips says otherwise. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t,” she murmurs against his mouth, breathless. “Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t. His fingers skate up her side, dragging deliberately slow trails of cold fire along her once broken ribs, over the soft skin beneath her bra. She shivers under his touch, her whole body pulsing with desire. Her hands are in his hair now, tangling in those soft blond curls, pulling him desperately closer, deeper.

Jasper groans again when she kisses him back harder, her tongue brushing his, her teeth grazing his lower lip. She can’t bite him, she realizes. His lips are too hard to bite even if she wants to and he’s losing control. Jasper can feel it too, and still, he holds back. Just barely.

He shifts again, this time pressing his hips more firmly into hers, and she feels his bulge now. One hand slides down to cup the curve of her ass, gripping it through the thin cotton of her clothes, possessive and needy all at once. He squeezes, and she lets out a soft gasp, nails raking gently across his scalp.

“Damn, darlin’,” he breathes against her mouth. “If I was still alive, you’d be the end of me.”

She laughs, breathless and flushed, but she doesn’t stop kissing him. Her lips move to his jaw, down his neck, her tongue flicking over the smooth marble of his skin. He lets out something close to a growl, one hand fisting the blanket beside her just to keep from letting it all go.

He wants to devour her.

Wants to taste every part of her, her breath, her sweat, the thunderous song of her pulse fluttering against her throat. But he keeps himself tethered to her smile. That’s what he wants more than anything. Her joy. Her safety. Her trust.

So he keeps his pace slow, savoring every second like it’s all he’ll ever get.

She tilts her hips just slightly, chasing the feel of his bulge against her, and he kisses her again, slow and deep, his hand still warm beneath her shirt. She feels like she’s burning up, and his cold touch is the only relief that also somehow makes it worse.

“You’re not real,” she whispers between kisses. “This has to be a dream.”

Jasper kisses her forehead, her cheek, her temple. “Then don’t wake up,” he says, voice hoarse. “Stay with me.”

Her fingers tighten in his hair, anchoring him. “Always.”

And he kisses her like that promise is the only thing keeping his soul intact.

She’s warm, soft and so fragile beneath him, her legs parting to cradle his hips, fingers roaming with no hesitation now, curious and hungry, just like her kisses. Jasper’s hand slides beneath the fabric of her shirt again, this time traveling higher, tracing the curve of her spine, committing her to memory by touch alone.

Y/N arches into him, and he groans low in his throat, an unspoken plea, a warning, a surrender. His restraint is slipping.

Her fingers curl at the hem of his shirt, tugging. “Off,” she breathes, desperate and sure.

He doesn’t hesitate. One arm crosses over his body, and he starts to lift the fabric, but she’s already moving. With a sharp, impatient sound, she yanks the shirt hard. The buttons pop free, clattering onto the floor like broken promises, fabric tearing. She pushes it open, splaying her hands across his chest and down over the ridged lines of his stomach. She’s always wanted to see him like this; wild and aching, the tension in his muscles rippling beneath her palms like restrained thunder.

“You’re perfect,” she whispers, voice filled with awe and desire.

Jasper leans down to kiss her again, slower this time, but deeper. His tongue tangles with hers, tasting her, learning every inch of her mouth. He grinds his hips into her instinctively, and she moans into his mouth, fingers grabbing onto his back.

He groans, and his hands slide beneath her, lifting her off the mattress just slightly so he can run his palms over the backs of her thighs, up to the swell of her ass. He grips her, pulls her tighter against him, swallowing the sound she makes when their bodies align.

Their clothes are still on and it’s maddening.

Then he moves.

In one smooth motion, he catches both of her wrists and pins them above her head, holding her to the mattress. His eyes blaze as he looks down at her, his jaw tense, lips slightly parted. She gasps at the pressure, at the control, but she doesn’t pull away. Her thighs squeeze around his hips, desperate for any fraction, but the pad is getting in the way. Her lips part as his mouth drags down her throat, pressing wet, open kisses to the skin just below her jaw.

Her breathing is ragged. “Jasper -”

A low moan breaks from her as his mouth lingers at the pulsating vessel in her neck. She doesn’t notice the way he freezes, just for a second. The way his whole body goes still except for his mouth hovering at her skin.

The scent is overwhelming. Her blood sings beneath his lips, warm and alive and inviting. His mouth parts, teeth brushing against her skin.

And suddenly he’s choking on it.

The hunger roars to life, violent and immediate and he’s not himself anymore. He’s back in the war, in the feeding frenzy, in a century of blood and need and loss. His grip tightens on her wrists, and she gasps, but not in pleasure this time.

Jasper jerks away from her like he’s been burned. He stumbles back, lips parted, chest heaving though he doesn’t need the air. His eyes flash black for a split second before the gold returns, shame and horror blooming wide in them.

“Jasper?” Her voice is breathless, confused, still dazed. She starts to sit up, shirt askew, lips swollen, her body trembling with leftover want.

But he’s already backing away. “I-I can’t,” he rasps, voice trembling. “I have to go.”

“Wait!” Her brows furrow, her hand reaching out. “What just happened?”

He’s gone before she can finish. One blink, one gust of air, and the room is silent.

Y/N is left there, heart racing, chest rising and falling as her heart screams his name. Her wrists still burn where he held her, her neck tingles where he kissed her, and her whole body aches with an aching need for his touch. She stares at the empty space where he’d just been, lips parted in confusion and something dangerously close to heartbreak.

“…Jasper?” she whispers into the silence.

But there’s no answer.

--

The house is a blur of color and wind as Jasper crashes through the front door, his face filled with desperation and panic. The walls vibrate from the force, his boots skidding across the hardwood as he stumbles to a halt in the foyer, wild eyed and shaking.

He doesn't have to call out, for they’re already there. Carlisle, Edward, and Alice stand before him, waiting as if they knew, as if they felt the moment he nearly lost everything.

Carlisle steps forward instantly, his face calm but he can’t hide his concern. When he speaks his voice gentle. “Jasper.”

“No,” Jasper chokes, staggering back like the word itself might split him open. “Don’t, don’t be kind to me right now. You don’t know what I almost did.”

Alice moves next, her tiny frame unnaturally still, eyes focused on Jasper’s disheveled state. Edward stays silent for a moment, standing just behind them, watching his brother with deep, haunted empathy.

“I almost bit her!” Jasper roars, fingers tangling in his hair, eyes blazing gold, his mind fractured. “I wanted to bite her!”

“You didn’t,” Edward says firmly, voice low and steady.

“But I wanted to!” Jasper snaps, spinning toward him. “She was beneath me, trusting, warm, her blood singing in her veins and I could almost taste her. I was holding her down like a monster, like a goddamn animal!”

His knees hit the floor hard. He doesn’t even feel it.

Carlisle is kneeling beside him in a second, his hand firm on Jasper’s shoulder.

“I knew she was on her period,” Jasper says, nearly gagging on the words. “I knew, and I still touched her. I still let myself get close. What kind of a selfish bastard does that?”

“You’re not selfish,” Carlisle says calmly, though his heart aches for Jasper. “You’re in love.”

“That doesn’t make it right!” Jasper yells, eyes snapping to meet Carlisle’s. “It doesn’t make her safe! I had my mouth on her throat. I felt my teeth drop. I… Carlisle, I saw her blood in my head, I imagined what she’d sound like choking on it, dying. And I wanted it, for a split second. I would’ve done it.”

Alice's voice cuts through the silence, soft but sure. “No. You wouldn’t have.”

He turns toward her, trembling. “You don’t know that.”

“I do.” Her eyes are glassy, but her voice doesn’t falter. “I would’ve seen it. I’ve always seen it. And I didn’t see it because it never would’ve happened. You stopped yourself. You, Jasper! Not me, not Edward, you.”

“I should never have let it get that far.” His voice cracks, low and broken. “She trusts me, and I-I pinned her down like she was prey. She told me she loves kissing me. She was laughing, smiling and I was about to kill her.”

“You love her,” Edward says, finally stepping forward. “You never felt it this strongly before. Never. Not even with Alice. You’re terrified because you care more than you ever have before.”

Jasper squeezes his eyes shut, his voice hoarse. “And that’s exactly why I kept some distance. That’s why I didn’t kiss her or let her too close.”

Carlisle doesn’t let him pull away.

“Jasper,” he says softly, his tone careful, layered with unshakeable calm Jasper has always trusted. “If you were going to hurt her, it would have happened. But you stopped. You chose her life over your desire. You chose restraint. That’s what matters.”

Jasper's eyes burn. “I could’ve ended her life in a second. She was so soft beneath me, she trusted me with every inch of her, Carlisle, and I-I felt what it would be like to break that skin.”

“But you didn’t,” Carlisle says. “You found your line and you stopped.”

Jasper leans forward, trembling hard, and Carlisle wraps an arm around him without hesitation. It’s rare for Jasper to accept comfort like this, to break. But he collapses into it now, into the arms of the man who’s been a father to him in this life.

“I hate myself,” he whispers.

“You don’t get to hate yourself for being in control,” Edward murmurs, replaying the entire memory he’s pulled from Jasper’s mind. “You forget, I saw it all. I felt what you felt. It was…dark. Really dark. But you chose her. Even when everything in you screamed for blood, you chose her.”

Alice steps closer and kneels beside him too, her small hand pressing against his back. “You’re not a monster, Jazz,” she says softly. “You’re in love. And that means you fight harder. For as long as you have to.”

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t look up. He allows Edward in his mind again, trusting him to calm the monster inside. He’s flooded with images of Y/N, some real, others fantasy, but she’s rooting him to his humanity, reminding him there’s hope.

--

She lies there for a moment, breathless, lips parted, the ghost of Jasper’s mouth still pressed to hers.

The sheets are rumpled around her thighs. Her shirt is half-off. Her body is still trembling from the intensity of his touch, the weight of him, the way his hands gripped her, held her like she was something fragile and forbidden and entirely his. She blinks up at the ceiling, chest rising and falling in shallow, shuddered breaths.

But he’s gone. Vanished. Not just out of the room, it seems. She listens for the any sound in the house, hoping to hear his footsteps. There’s nothing. No brush of air, no shift in shadow. Only silence.

“Jasper?” she calls, softly. Then again, louder. Still nothing.

She swings her legs off the bed, reaching for the nearest blanket to cover herself. She grabs the bottle of wine as she pads to the hallway. “Maybe he just needed a minute,” she murmurs to herself, forcing logic into her bones. “Maybe he’s just… cooling down.”

But her feet freeze at the foot of the stairs when she sees the front door cracked open. Not wide. Just enough to say he didn’t want to slam it.

That hurts worse. He ran and he didn’t even look back.

Y/N stands there, dazed and still flushed, cheeks burning with the remnants of pleasure now iced over by confusion. Her body aches. Her lips are swollen from his kisses, her skin tingling from his cold fingers still lingering like frost on her ribs.

She crosses the room in a haze, staring at the open door as though expecting him to materialize there panting, apologizing, kissing her breathless again. But he doesn’t.

In silence, she closes the door. She looks at the bottle of wine he bought for her. The one he unintentionally made her favorite. She doesn’t even pour it, instead she drinks straight from the bottle.

Halfway through, the warmth makes her stomach coil. She sits on the couch, wrapped in the blanket, blinking hard against the sting behind her eyes.

It doesn’t even make her angry, that’s what surprises her most. She’s not angry. She’s still horny, still aching for him, still trapped in the echo of his voice whispering how much he loved her, how she was his everything. She remembers the way his hand fit perfectly around her wrist, the way his chest felt beneath her palms; cold, hard, hers.

And now she’s left here like a junkie in withdrawal, lips raw from addiction, heart pounding like she’s detoxing from a drug that was never meant to be hers.

She runs a hand through her hair, frustrated, more at herself than him.

Why did I push him like that?

She knew she was still lightly bleeding. Not enough for it to be a hassle for her, but enough for him to notice. She knew it and she still pulled him in, let herself lose control. She’s ashamed, because she should have known better.

Did she violate his trust? Her fingers press into her temples. She can’t help but wonder if she pushed him too hard. He didn’t ask her to stop and there was no indication he’ll lose control until his grip on her wrists became too tight. The pain caused her to react and he…he’ll hate himself for it.

She stands quickly, suddenly needing the air. The house is echoing her own insecurities back on her, reminding her of everything that almost happened and didn’t. She throws on a hoodie, pulls on leggings and socks, arms tight around her body like she can hold herself together if she just squeezes hard enough.

She opens the door and freezes.

Paul is standing there. Her porch light glows soft over him, catching on the edge of his jaw. He’s not smirking this time. There’s no cocky tilt to his head, no smugness in his posture, just him.

And in his arms, a bouquet. White tulips and lilies. Clean, elegant, a little bruised at the edges from how tightly he’s gripping them.

“Hey,” he says quietly.

Y/N stares at him. She blinks once, twice. The dizzy cloud in her mind doesn’t fully lift, but it sharpens. Focuses on the man in front of her, the one with warm hands and tired eyes and flowers she didn’t expect.

Her voice is soft, caught between dazed and drained. “Hi.”

He looks at her for a long moment. His eyes flicker to her flushed cheeks, her lips, her messy hair and the muscles harden in his jaw.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?”

She laughs softly, but it sounds wrong. Almost hollow. “Depends how you define bad.”

He shifts awkwardly on the porch, clearly sensing something is off but not sure what to do with it. And he’s not the only one, because part of her is still in that bedroom, back on those sheets, under a man who left her without saying a word, and the rest of her is still waiting for him to come back.

Paul lingers on the porch, shifting his weight as the bouquet droops slightly in his hand.

Y/N stands in the doorway, hoodie sleeves pulled over her palms, hair messy from more than just the wind. She’s not sure what’s written on her face; confusion, discomfort, or just exhaustion, but Paul notices it. He always does.

She breaks the silence first. “Why are you here, Paul?” Her voice is steady. Tired, but not unkind. She doesn't slam the door. Doesn’t run back inside. But she doesn’t move closer, either.

Paul gives her a smile that almost passes for charming if it weren’t laced with nerves. “You said you hated roses,” he says, lifting the bouquet between them. “Thought I’d try something different?”

She doesn’t return the smile. Her brows rise, unimpressed. “Paul -”

He cuts in before she can finish, the grin slipping. “I wanted to apologize. I was rude. Presumptive. I didn’t mean to make things hard for you.”

Her silence is enough permission. He exhales, lowers the flowers a bit. “I’m not over you,” he admits, voice low. “Or us.”

Y/N closes her eyes for a second, rubbing her forehead. She feels the faint pulse of a headache forming behind her temple. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs, “but you know I’m with Jasper now. And I really am happy. I know you guys think I’m trapped or something, but this was my choice.”

Paul’s shoulders stiffen, the bouquet wilting further in his grip. His eyes narrow at her with resentment maybe, or disbelief.

“Like the choice to become one of them?”

Her arms cross tightly over her chest. She steps out onto the porch now, not toward him, but just out of the doorway.

“The flowers are beautiful, Paul,” she says softly, ignoring the topic he was so caught up in “but I don’t want them. Not when they clearly have strings attached.”

The corner of his mouth twitches, like he might argue, but he holds back. Barely. “I wasn’t trying to manipulate you.”

“You weren’t trying not to, either.”

He lets out a shaky breath, then, softening again, asks, “Will you at least come for a walk? Just talk with me for a little while. No fighting.”

She shakes her head, stepping back. “I can’t, Paul. It wouldn’t be fair to you, or to Jasper.”

There’s something about the way she says it, not sharp, not dramatic, just final that makes it hit harder.

His jaw clenches. “I think you still care about me,” he says suddenly. “And that’s why you won’t talk to me.”

Her breath catches. “What?”

“You said it’s not fair to me or Jasper.” His eyes narrow just slightly. “Why would it be unfair to Jasper… unless you still feel something for me?”

The words hit her like a light up match dropped in a gas-soaked room. She should have known better, worded it more carefully.

“That’s not what I meant,” she snaps, defensive now, stepping backward. “I meant it’s not fair to keep pretending we’re friends when we’re not. When there’s still this… tension. And you know damn well why it’s there.”

Paul steps closer, eyes burning. “So you do feel something.”

“No!” she says, too quickly. Then more carefully, “Whatever we had, it wasn’t an actual relationship. It wasn’t real. It was sex. That’s all it ever was.”

He flinches like she hit him. “That’s bullshit,” he growls. “You know it. You felt it.”

“I felt used!” she shouts, the wine in her veins finally igniting. “I felt like a goddamn idiot for coming all the way here because I thought there was a spark. Don’t you dare stand there and act like I was the one who didn’t care. You were the one who wasted all the chances I’ve given you.”

Paul’s eyes narrow, struggling hard to swallow the words he wants to say before he takes a step forward.

But he never makes it to her.

“Back off.”

The voice is deep, warning. A large figure moves silently from the edge of the woods behind the house, steps onto the porch with the ease of someone who belongs there.

Emmett.

He plants himself between them, arms folded across his broad chest, eyes sharp on Paul.

“Need I remind you,” Emmett says, voice calm but cold, “Forks is our territory, and you’re not welcome in this home.”

Paul doesn’t move at first. But his jaw tightens. His eyes rest on Y/N for a moment before moving to Emmett, then back again.

He breathes through his nose. “This isn’t over.”

He places the bouquet on the porch and turns, disappearing into the darkness without another word.

Y/N stares after him, lips parted, arms still tight around herself. Emmett doesn’t say anything right away. He turns to her slowly, his expression softening.

“You okay?” he asks gently.

She nods once. Then again. But her voice is shaky. “I don’t know.”

And Emmett does something no one else would have done. He doesn’t push. He just steps forward and wraps his arms around her like a brother would, strong and silent and warm. And for a moment, she lets herself lean into it.

It’s been too long since they saw each other and she didn’t know why. For a moment, she was sure he’s been avoiding her.

“Wanna go grab some food?” He leans back, raising his brows.

“Do you even eat food?”

Emmett grins. “It’s pretty disgusting, but I still like to grab a burger here and there.”

“And I’m the one you’re going to grab it with?”

Winking, he wraps an arm around her. “You. And only you.”

--

The familiar clatter of silverware and low hum of a jukebox fills the cozy diner as Y/N slides into a booth across from Emmett, who immediately waves down the waitress like a regular.

“Two burgers, double patties, extra fries, chocolate shake for me and…” He glances at Y/N, eyes narrowing playfully. “What are you ordering, tiny human with a black hole appetite?”

She rolls her eyes, tugging her hoodie down over her hips as she scoots into the cracked red leather seat. “First of all, rude. Second, yes to all of that. Plus onion rings. I’m emotionally compromised and require carbs.”

He grins. “Atta girl.”

The waitress takes their order with a raised brow and a small smile, clearly already assuming the way Emmett eats is like a linebacker after a long, hard game.

Once she walks away, Emmett leans forward on his elbows, eyebrows raised. “So. Paul.”

Y/N groans and drops her face into her hands. “We’re not talking about him.”

“Too late. You made the mistake of leaving me unsupervised with your drama. Spill.”

She glares at him from between her fingers. “You’re the worst.”

“You say that, but you keep talking to me. You even invited me here.”

“I never invited you here, you brought me.”

“Details.” He waves it off. “Seriously, you okay though? You looked… wrecked. Like seriously wrecked.”

She sighs, leaning back and staring out the window. The fog outside has settled low over the parking lot, streetlights casting halos in the mist.

“I don’t know. I think I fucked up with Jasper.”

Emmett’s expression softens slightly. “He scared himself,” he says quietly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“He ran like I burned him.”

“He ran because he almost bit you,” Emmett says, lowering his voice. “And believe me, none of us are downplaying how serious that is. But it’s not about control or trust or even you. It’s about him. That part of him he hates, that we all struggle with. He thinks he’s burdening you with just by existing.”

She’s quiet for a long moment. The waitress returns with their food and sets the plates down with a quick smile. The scent of grilled meat and fried everything fills the air.

Y/N picks at a fry. “He’s mad at himself.”

“Yeah. And at me,” Emmett adds with a wince.

Her head snaps up. “At you? Why?”

Emmett shrugs. “I let you go to New York alone. Even though he asked me to keep an eye on you. I didn’t think it’d be a big deal. You’re a grown woman, you can handle yourself. But he... he felt helpless. Like he couldn’t protect you.”

She frowns. “Emmett. That wasn’t your fault. There was no stopping me that night.”

“I know. But you know Jasper. He’d take a bullet for you and blame himself for not catching it midair.”

She smiles faintly, eyes glassy now. “I’ll fix it. I’ll talk to him. Make him understand none of that was your fault.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to. You’re my brother. Jasper’s just going to have to accept that.”

Emmett pauses with a french fry halfway to his mouth, blinking. “Wait. Did you just call me your brother?”

She grins. “I mean, emotionally, you’re like if a golden retriever was turned into a big brother.”

He laughs, full-bodied and loud enough to turn heads in the diner. “You’re such a brat.”

“And you’re built like a fridge.”

He winks. “A sexy fridge.”

“Debatable.”

“I’m the definition of sexy,” he shoots back, taking a massive bite of the burger.

She snorts into her milkshake, then sighs contentedly. “You know, I needed this.”

“Cheese grease and emotional therapy via older vampire you’ve adopter as a brother? I’m always on call.”

“I mean it,” she says, nudging his foot under the table, stifling a yelp. “That hurt,” she huffs before continuing, “You’re like… my favorite non-homicidal Cullen.”

“Low bar, but I’ll take it.”

They eat in silence for a while, the weight between them lighter now. She leans her cheek on her hand, watching him demolish his third helping of fries.

“Do you think he’ll come back tonight?” she asks softly.

Emmett pauses mid-chew, swallows. “Honestly? I think he’ll try. He wants to. But if he doesn’t, it’s not because he doesn’t love you.”

“I know,” she says. And she does. Still, her fingers curl tighter around her milkshake straw.

“You should get some sleep,” Emmett says gently. “I can hang around till sunrise. Keep watch. You know, in case another werewolf tries to bring flowers and guilt.”

She chuckles quietly. “You really don’t have to.”

He grins and wipes ketchup from his chin. “But I want to. And also, I ate half your fries and don’t feel guilty about it, so I kind of owe you.”

Y/N shakes her head and lifts her hand toward him.

He slaps his palm into hers, high fiving her. “You’ve got a whole messed-up, crazy, death-defying family behind you now, Y/N. You’re not alone anymore.”

She squeezes his hand. “Yeah. I know.”

--

The house is quiet when Emmett drops her off, the sky above thick with clouds and the scent of rain teasing the air. He gives her a long hug before disappearing into the trees like a shadow. She watches him vanish, arms wrapped around herself, heart heavier than before despite the lightness of their earlier laughter. She didn’t want him staying, though he promised he’d be close enough he’d hear her call if she needed him.

When she pushes open the front door, a creak echoes through the stillness. The scent of wine still lingers faintly in the air from earlier. Her fingertips brush over the empty bottle on the coffee table. She takes a breath and heads upstairs, heart already aching at the sight of her empty bed.

But something stops her just before she turns on the light. She feels him again. The air is colder, familiar.

She turns, finding his gaze on her.

Jasper is standing just outside her open window, leaning against the sill like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to come in. His eyes meet hers, molten gold rimmed with deep shadows, anguish carved into every inch of his expression.

She holds her breath and for a moment, neither of them speak.

“You came back,” she whispers.

He nods, once. “Couldn’t stay away.”

She moves slowly, walking toward the window, her feet quiet on the floorboards. Jasper watches her every step, like he’s afraid she’ll vanish if he blinks. The closer she gets, the more she can see how wrecked he is; his shirt slightly wrinkled, his curls a mess from running through the woods, his hands trembling faintly at his sides.

“I didn’t know if I’d see you again tongiht,” she says softly.

“I didn’t deserve to come back,” he murmurs.

Her brow furrows. “Jasper…”

“I almost bit you.” His voice cracks. “I wanted to.”

“You didn’t.”

He presses his hand against the frame, eyes burning. “You don’t understand. I felt it…my teeth were right there. One second longer and I would’ve -” He cuts himself off, turning his face away like he’s ashamed to breathe the same air as her.

She steps forward, reaching for his hand. “But you didn’t, Jasper. That’s what matters. You stopped. You knew when to stop.”

“I shouldn’t have let it get that far in the first place. You were vulnerable and I…” His voice breaks, and this time he does look at her. “You trusted me, and I put you in danger.”

Her fingers thread through his. “I still trust you.”

He swallows hard. “I didn’t mean to leave you like that. I didn’t even think. I just… panicked. I was so close to losing control. And all I could think was that if I hurt you…if I lost you, I’d never be able to live with myself. I’d make sure it would be the end of me, as well.”

She steps closer until they’re barely inches apart, the wind brushing through the window, rustling the curtains like whispers.

“You’re a good person,” she tells him. “I don’t want you to be afraid of us. Even if you bit me, you’d just bring the inevitable to reality.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t know what it’s like to want something so badly it feels like it’s eating you alive and to know that wanting it could kill it. If I bit you, I wouldn’t have stopped. Y/N, you’d be dead. There’s nothing that can bring you back from that.”

She cups his cheek, cold skin warming beneath her touch. “I understand, but you need to realize I have faith in you.”

He leans into her palm, his eyes fluttering shut. “I’m not safe for you.”

“You’re the only one I’ve ever felt safe with,” she replies, voice low.

That does it. Jasper moves through the window and into the room, pulling her into his arms like a drowning man. Their bodies press together, her warmth sinking into him, grounding him. He doesn’t kiss her, not yet, he just holds her. Like if he lets go, his heart would break in half.

“I love you,” he whispers, voice raw. “I love you so much it terrifies me.”

She buries her face in his neck, breathing him in, “I know,” she whispers back. “Me too.”

They stay like that, holding each other in the dark. His fingers curl in the hem of her shirt, but this time there’s no hunger in it. Just a need to feel her and a silent vow to do better.

They lie tangled in the sheets, fully clothed but not untouched. Jasper’s arms wrap around her tightly, one hand splayed over her lower back while the other brushes lazy circles along her shoulder.

Y/N is half-draped over him, her head resting on his chest, listening to him breath, wishing she could hear his unbeating heart. She’s drifting. Her eyes are closed, lashes kissing her cheeks. One of her legs is thrown over his, her fingertips unknowingly tracing the outline of a scar on his bicep in slow, sleepy patterns.

“Mmm,” she murmurs, her voice drowsy, “you should forgive Emmett.”

Jasper’s brow creases. “You don’t waste time, do you?”

“You shouldn’t be mad anymore,” she slurs softly, her breath warm against his collarbone. “He feels awful.”

Jasper sighs, his thumb still moving along her skin. “He should feel awful. Letting you go to New York alone? I should’ve ripped his arms off.”

She snorts, barely opening one eye. “You like his arms. You once said they were ‘respectable.’”

“I lied.”

She smiles, pressing a kiss just under his jaw. “He’s like a brother to me.”

“I know.”

“I want you to forgive him.”

“You’ve made that very clear, Darlin.”

They’re quiet for a moment, and he thinks she might be drifting off again until she says, casually, “He chased Paul off the porch tonight.”

Jasper goes still. “…What?”

She lifts her head just enough to peek up at him, eyes heavy with sleep but amusement tugging at the corners. “He was there when I came downstairs. With flowers. Being all… Paul. Emmett showed up before he could start anything.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“He’s forgiven,” Jasper says immediately, deadpan.

Y/N bursts into soft, sleepy giggles and collapses fully against his chest, letting herself melt into his body.

“Thought that might do it,” she mumbles.

Jasper smiles despite himself, kissing the top of her head. He brushes her hair back and whispers, “You really know me that well?”

She hums. “I like to think so.”

His hand moves up to cradle the back of her head as he shifts slightly, pulling her closer. “I think I know you just as well.”

“You don’t,” she disagrees playfully.

He chuckles, low and rough. “But I’ll spend forever trying to.”

Her palm rests on his chest, fingers splayed like a claim, and his cheek is pressed to the top of her head. The scent of her is everywhere, and yet he breathes her in like it’s air, not torment.

“You’re everything to me, Darlin’,” he whispers against her hair. “You’re light in every dark corner I’ve ever had. I’d burn a thousand times over just to hold you like this.”

She stirs, letting out a sleepy sigh. “Keep talking…”

“I love you. Every version of you. The stubborn parts, the scared parts, the ones you think are too heavy to carry. I’ll take them all.”

“Even when I annoy you about forgiving Emmett?”

He smiles. “Even then.”

Her breathing evens out, soft and steady. The little weight of her trust settles in his arms like a secret only he gets to hold. His thumb brushes lightly over the curve of her hip beneath the covers.

He presses one more kiss to her hairline and whispers, “Sleep, my love. I’ve got you.”

--

The earth trembles beneath him. Paw meets dirt with bone jarring force, claws tearing through moss and root as the wolf barrels through the forest, a heap of muscles and fury and sorrow. The moonlight shines through the trees in fractured shards, glinting off silvery-gray fur as Paul runs, fast and desperate, lungs burning from the strain.

He’s not running for exercise. He’s running from her name echoing in his mind on repeat, from the image of her standing on that porch with messy hair and cheeks still flushed from him. From the way her voice trembled when she pushed him away.

From the reality that he is losing her.

Forever.

He pushes harder, faster. Branches claw at his sides. The wind howls in his ears. He wants the pain. He welcomes it.

She’s really going to do it. Become one of them. A Cullen in every sense of the word. She didn’t say it, but he could tell it’s what she plans t do. Like it’s inevitable, like she’s already made peace with it.

And what did he do? Brought her flowers like it could fix the past. Like white tulips could erase the night he didn’t come home after he left her for Rachel like she meant nothing.

You’re a coward..

He dodges a boulder, leaps across a creek and keeps running.

She was never supposed to mean this much. Not when they ended up in bed because it felt right even if he didn’t know why, and definitely not when she smirked at him like she could see straight through his bullshit and still didn’t run. But she did. She mattered more than she was ever supposed to. And he ruined it.

He wasn’t ready. He was angry, about the imprint, about fate pulling his strings, about the guilt that weighed him down every time he saw her sitting there, trying so hard to be wanted by someone like him who didn’t know how to let her in without burning everything down. She followed him to La Push. She claimed it was for the donation but Paul knew that was a lie. She came for himand he treated her like a burden. Like she was in the way of some future he didn’t even want until she showed up and made it feel possible.

The worst part? He can never take any of it back. Even now, when she knows what caused it all to transpire, she doesn’t forgive him. She believes his imprint would cause friction between them. She’s worried she’d never be a priority.

The growl in his throat is primal, rattling through the stillness of the woods as he skids to a stop, panting.

He shifts. Naked and trembling in the moonlight, Paul collapses to his knees in the pine needles, raking his fingers through the dirt. His chest heaves, not from exertion, but from the sheer weight of what he’s lost.

She was mine first. Not in the possessive, childish way. But in the way where losing her was felt in his soul. There was hope for them…The kind where two broken people find warmth in each other’s shadows. The kind that could’ve become something if he hadn’t let fear and fate break it before it began.

He presses his forehead to the ground, muscles locked, jaw clenched.

She’s going to die and come back with red eyes and cold skin and he’ll never get to touch her again without being reminded of everything she left behind. She’ll forget the way they fit together, the way he made her laugh. She’ll forget the way he’d memorized the sound of her breathing after she fell asleep in his arms in her bed in New York. She’ll forget the way she enjoyed his warmth, and demanded kisses.

She’ll forget him.

And he has no one to blame but himself. If only he came home that night, if he could have talked to her, it would have been fine. He could have kept her in bed longer that morning, maybe that whole weekend. There would be to reason for her to go to the beach alone, no reason for Jasper to swoop in and take her with him. Within a week, the Cullens would have been gone and she’d stay there with him, never getting attached to a bloodsucker.

That one mistake cost him everything. How is he supposed to live with that?

“I’m sorry,” he whispers to the dark, but the wind doesn’t answer, it carries no absolution.

It’s no longer just about him wanting her, it’s about saving her life. If she decides she doesn’t want him around, he’ll accept it. He just can’t accept her becoming a leech like the rest of them. Losing her is one thing. Letting her get killed and dragged into an eternal life where she won’t be herself is entirely different.

Bella was lucky to keep her humanity untouched. She’s an exception, not a rule. And Paul was about to remind everyone of the rules they already have in place, to ensure her safety.

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

Tags: @moonmark98 @formulas-bitch @ronniesreverie @anongirl007 @foxycrafterofgreenwood @lamelover @sl4t4darkling @megaprincesscakes @aj3684 @xnarixkimx @rhysology @piya-re @wolfndragonfly @redwitchbitch1 @smh-anon @yoosmekihyun @ittybittymagick @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @pinkpantheris @rinavarwen

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[dawnoftime22]

hello, i have a request for Taylor Swift 😊

reader is upset cause they feel betrayed by their close friends (maybe they weren't invited to a party or something) and since Taylor have been there before she comforts the reader and they spend the day together playing games or something so the reader forgets about it?

also can Taylor sing to comfort Reader? 🥺 i love it when she sings for us hehe

safe & sound.

| T.S

Warnings: reader overthinking, a lot! please be warned and take care of yourself<3 R's friends betraying

Summary: When you find out the way you're suddenly treated by the people you're closest with, Taylor spends her time trying to comfort you in the ways she knows how to.

Word Count: 6.1k

Category: fluff

A/N: I feel like my writing is only growing in word count...I swear thats not me pushing, I just try to finish the story!! I reaally really hope you enjoy this, and it brings you all the comfort you need<3

| Started on 19/05/2025, 2:28 PM |

| Finished on 30/05/2025, 6:53 AM |

Main Masterlist | T.S Masterlist

Request Guidelines

“Look at the stars. Look how they shine for you...and all the things that you do.”

|——————————— ⸆⸉ ———————————|

You were in the living room when you found out.

The space was quiet, save from the way the sink had water running down, and clinks were coming along beside it as Taylor washed the dishes. The time was 3:24 PM. You just had lunch together, spent rightfully with comfort, and love.

Now, you were sitting on the couch, legs up, touching your clothed stomach, and you were staring down at the screen of your phone. Upon it, you saw an instagram post from one of your friends right at the homescreen.

It was great. It was peaceful. You were having such a good day...until the photos and videos hit you like a trainwreck crashing into the sunshine. It made everything falter with its lightness.

Your lips tightened as they pressed together. You shouldn't have, but you did. It almost seemed animated as you went through the instagram stories, read the comments on the posts, and you saw all the smiles, and the laughter. It was like watching a movie far away from your life

You heard the way they had fun with their mini games and conversations without any care in the world. Like none of it mattered. Sitting casually. Like you didn't matter.

Its not like you felt like the world spun around the idea of you of course, but it didn't mean it didn't hurt. They had gone forth without a heads up, and that felt like the worst kind of a quiet betrayal. There was a possibility that they thought of how you seemed to leave nearly each time, how overwhelmed you were, but something about it brought your sense of mind a certain pain.

Then you started to wonder if they had even thought about you at all, or if they completely forgot. And in some way, that felt...acceptable. Just acceptable. Not better, not worse, but something you could take.

The thoughts and questions made you reel back and forth, as if you were pacing the room without moving, and you swallowed.

Slowly, you clicked the power button at the side of your phone, and the screen faded to nothing as you set it down.

It's not like the emotional feelings were walking all over you, or that it felt like waves crashing over. Being pricked by a cactus would be something to describe it, perhaps. Yet, still, you wrapped your arms around your legs, and rested your chin against your knees. The carpet seemed like the next interesting thing in the room.

It was just a party. A stupid party. It shouldn't bite you this much, but for some reason it did—because in a way, it confirmed your biggest fear in a hard, rough truth;...that no one really wanted you at all. Your presence, your quietness, everything about you. Whatever point of evidencr it was of yourself that made people pull away. It was a reason to hold up whenever you found it.

Your jaw tightened, but it was your teeth pressing together, not clenching. It was in frustration that was either to yourself, or the people you were close with. You weren't sure. It's not like they were at fault. At all. Right? Just...your own problems to deal with that they don't want.

It wasn't long until the couch had the smallest little dip in it. Beside you, Taylor had come to sit with a sweet looking Meredith, having brought her along in her hands for the kitty to curl up in her lap.

She looks at you, seeing the way that you had your legs tucked in close to yourself, protectively, within the circulation of your arms. You had your eyes on the floor, clearly deep in the depths of your mind. It had been like that since she made her decision to go to you.

Until you turned your head to look at her to catch her sight, she would have been smiling, if not for the frown that seemed to shape on your lips.

And that only made you feel like hiding more; that her raising of a joy had faltered, all in simply seeing the slightest of oddities in your behaviour, because she knew you well enough to see everything you hadn't even spoken about. You weren't sure what to feel about it when you were already knee deep into guilt. There was no telling if it's already swallowed you whole or still waiting either.

But to Taylor, the concern came climbing up on her heart, knowing all too well that the many times you've spaced out before was in reason to getting caught up in a web of worries.

She took a moment to just see you, search your eyes for anything that she could find and recognize, but it wasn't long until she set Meredith down gently beside you both instead. Her body moved closer to you in a careful shift.

"...Are you okay?" she asks. For a second, you cracked, just a little. It was like she breathed on glass that was vulnerable to break from anything, even when she didn't mean any harm.

You tried resisting it, but your frown only got deeper, more emotional, and you leaned in more into her instantly.

She had her arms wrapped around you without another second to spare, bringing you closer to her chest. You could hear the soothing shushing that came from her lips as she does.

Nothing urged you to talk about it. There wasn't any willing want in your heart either. Everything had seemed to just overwhelm you, all at once like that giant wave going down, and it wasn't good. It wasn't relief, it wasn't realization, just something that could knock you down and never let you get back up.

Her warm embrace felt safe, similar in hand to a gentle song surrounding you in its comfort. "What's wrong, baby?" she asked in softness.

You looked into her eyes. "I...it's...just..." you were about to start, but then gave out to the distress in your mind instead of continuing. "It's nothing," the words slipped out your mouth, uttered like a truth, but draped over with a white lie.

Taylor didn't take that. She didn't want to, and she certainly wouldn't want you to get away with shutting down. "Hey..."

She keeps her gentle tone even as she continued. "Hey, you know you can tell me anything, right? No judgement...no expectations." Her hand brushed against your back in a small comforting way, giving that bit of affection that always seemed to make your nerves ease, even if it was just a little.

You bit your lip deeply after a short sigh out. With a gentle pull on the pinkish skin, you tasted copper against your tongue, although there was no red. Taylor tilted her head just enough to see you.

When she sees the smallest tatter on the skin, a soft breath escapes her, and she reaches up carefully to brush her thumb over your lip so your instincts let it go.

Taylor was patient. You knew it. She always was. But you felt like no words could escape your mouth—like your brain had gotten that overload to where it would just shut down, and none of it was for you to blame because you did want to speak. So, you only frowned, looking to her shoulder in guilt.

You stayed there in decision for just a moment, but it didn't take long for you to grab your phone again.

It unlocked once the password was put in, and you held it out for her take. It was still in the same app as you left it earlier.

She looked at you, then your phone, only getting more concerned, but her hand carefully took it from your hold to see what it was. As soon as her eyes land on the screen, she realized that it was a post from one of your friends.

"Probably having fun," you mumbled out beside her, having gone to curl up and hug your legs once more. She scrolls down further, seeing the caption and the date that it was posted on, which was just an hour or two ago.

She blinked, trying to process it, but it didn't take her long. Her expressions soon soften, and she let her shoulders lower when she's picked all the pieces of the unspoken puzzle. "...Oh...baby," she breathed out, looking at you again.

Her arms brought you closer again, giving you warmth as she put the phone back down. Meredith was purring beside you both, despite the emotional rise.

"Did they...ever...tell you? Or ask?" Taylor looked down at you, and you didn't capture her eyes, but she definitely saw the small little sadness in your pupils, both because of whats happened, and the branches of overthinking going on in your mind.

You shook your head just a little, which causes a small quietness to cover over the both of you.

She only gazed at you with doubled care, if possible, and she moved to get more comfortable before opening her arms up for you.

"Come here..." she urged gently. You hesitated, but you couldn't really resist, going closer to feel the warmth that she provided, all as you hid into her chest.

"Just stay for a while."

She breathed slowly, lowering herself more to rest herself against your hair.

It was just that. Taylor holding you for a quiet moment, giving a pause and break from all the emotional things going on. It felt like she could take away all your problems by just...being her. Being with you.

You closed your eyes at the rush of the warm aid to your feelings, and you had to tighten your embrace just a little more in reponse.

"...It's okay," she whispered. Her lips brushed just ever so slightly at your ear as she glides up for a soft kiss on the side of your head.

"...I know, it's difficult, seeing that. And it's not something you can just...brush away and forget." You let her words drift in your mind, processing, but you couldn't really figure out how to say anything back.

You didn't need to, anyway. The way she held you was enough for words to be far from the true comfort touch could give.

A pause goes by. She leans back, then put her finger right below your chin, wanting you to look up at her. "But you should know...you didn't do anything to make them pull back. If you didn't get invited, thats on them, not you."

You sighed out softly, eyes traveling down. "I don't know...I just...maybe they thought I get overwhelmed way too many times, so they just thought...not telling me would make it less complicated, or...or worse, they forgot."

She searched your face, trying to see everything held back under the surface. "Baby...it was a little mean of them for not telling you. And if they did think about it...some kind of acknowledgement would have been better too. Gentle acknowledgement."

"Like, anyone with half the logic I have, would realize that acting casual and going quiet is bad, but posting it on instagram, when knowing full well that you could see their posts?" She shook her head in a small frustration for you.

For a while, there was quietness, and Taylor was taking your last reason into consideration next. Not that she really needed to, as the answer could be obvious for anyone.

"And if they forgot...then I don't know if they're really counted as your close friends, sweetheart," Taylor whispered, giving you that gentleness thats always needed when saying such words, and your eyes flickered to her. Although filled with hurt, there was a certain knowing look in your expressions.

"But what if its not intentional?" you tried to reason, to think of it in another perspective in a way to help your mind. Which, was slowly getting caught up in clusters of messes.

She sighed softly, her expressions softening along with her words. "Okay...there's multiple of them, right?" she asked. You hesitated, but gave a small, gentle nod.

"At least one of them should have cared enough to ask, or just speak up and tell you about it," she said, her hand carefully going up, and brushing your hair with her fingers. You thought it through, then slumped a little into her as the words started to register.

She felt your fingers furling into her shirt. You were closing your eyes as if it could make it any better. "It's just...like...I...wish I wasn't like this, Tay." You looked up to catch her gaze, eyes vulnerable. The words were spilled out slow, but fast at the same time, mixed with hesitation, and wanting to get it all over with.

Your lips tightened. "Like, what if I'm just gonna be this...stupid sensitive thing that everyone always sees? I don't fit...parties. I never did," you say, tumbling it all out completely like it didn't seem to be the most offensive thing if someone else had spewed that out to you.

Taylor swallowed gently, then slowly shook her head. "...No..." she whispered back, and as much as it was quiet, her voice held genuine firmness enough to be holding you together.

"Baby, no..." the next words were breathed out, and she pulled you even closer, leaning in for a soft kiss on your temple.

"Listen. You are not...a 'stupid sensitive thing', you are a person. You have a beautiful mind, and it needs the care that most people don't...seem to want to acknowledge." Her words made you try to swallow the lump forming in your throat.

She takes a deep breath in, sighing out as she leaned back. "Do you wanna know what I think?" Her blue eyes caught on yours once again. Her fingers were splayed out on your back, but not gripping the fabric like you were with her shirt. You were waiting. She was willing to give it all to you. The perspective she had, and the tenderness in her care.

"I think...that you love the quieter, and simpler moments," she whispered, her free hand pushing back some of your hair. "And I think thats...perfect already, for who you are." A gentle touch was felt when her hand goes back down, resting on your knee.

You couldn't help it. Her voice was reaching out easily to you, and through the battle of your mind, it was all going down already. But in the moment, you looked down, finding her palm to trace the light lines upon it.

She tilts her head, a small smile curving her lips when she noticed, but she continues. "...I know your brain might not like it, and it might fight with it just because you think you should like more entertaining things...but sweetheart, your heart is already content with comfort, and definitely prefers it a whole lot more."

You bit your lip, but didn't do any damage this time, your hand turning into a loose fist against her palm. "But I don't wanna be careful." She felt the brush of your knuckles, and her hand simply held it, embracing in the language of hands. A hug, without arms wrapped around bodies.

"I know...but thats what you need," she whispered back, glancing to your hand, and she unfurls your fingers to slip hers through, intertwining, before looking back at you to keep eye contact again.

"Thats what you deserve. Gentleness. Care. And why would I ever want you to be left feeling overwhelmed?" she asked. yoirs shoulders went down slightly in defeat of your body.

Her face softens. "It's not fun when you see me being overwhelmed over work, right?" Your brain clicked in her point, and there was that look of realization that she's been trying to reach.

"No..." your voice was small, but either way, she still heard it, and saw the way your lips moved in admittance, which had her breathing out in gentle relief.

"Exactly, baby," she murmured, leaning in close so she could brush your noses in a gentle nuzzle for making it through the hard part.

You didn't want to say it, add in another thing, but it bubbled up your throat to go past your lips. "...But...I...I just...ruin it for you when we do go to parties."

Her look didn't contain any frustration, or anger at the added in worry, but just more worry and affection instead. She shook her head gently, insistently almost, and her eyes were sweet in love and care.

"I know you can get overwhelmed really easily. Okay? But listen, you could never. ruin. a single. thing." Your lips were parting to speak up, but her finger gently stopped you before you could.

"I'm not done, shhh..." You giggled, just ever so slightly, and her heart lightened at the small sound of joy. "You're my whole...entire world. Above anything else, you're my priority."

"It doesn't matter if you feel like you wanna cry, or hide away, or just have some spot to sit at. You can have all that, and I'll always be here to hold your hand, or to just hold you exactly like this," she says, having brought you up to her chest all over again, even tighter this time, feeling like a teddy bear hugging you.

She kissed the top of your head. "You deserve a break whenever you need it, baby. It doesn't make you any less of a human being. In fact it only makes you more, okay? Because yes, of course, some of these people can go through these parties somehow, and I can too, but it doesn't mean I haven't gotten overwhelmed myself either."

She was going into a ramble of her own really, but you simply listened, in admiration, and trying to get it all engraved in your mind.

A sigh left her lips as she caught her breath for a moment. "It's something thats...normal. It doesn't seem like it, and for some reason other people don't think it is. But...everyone always has their own levels of sensitivities to certain things."

You leaned into her more, burying your face into her chest, and finding home somewhere near her collarbone, steady with the feel of her heartbeat.

She rests her cheek against your hair, nearly squishing herself against you as her fingers trailed down your spine. "...We don't have to go to parties...you know? There's other things we could do."

"Like us, cuddling right now...there's no need for all the...loud and fun thingies," she murmured, giving a small squeeze, and you let out a small giggle at the end of her sentence.

She joined in with a small smile and a chuckle herself, nuzzling into your neck, but pulling back afterwards. Her hands go up to cup your face, holding you like you were something precious.

"I...see you as the most...kind, loving soul...and thats exactly why I love you," she whispered. Your eyes reflected the absolute affection that she had in hers.

"I also love that side of you that needs the special care it craves, and I want to give it the gentleness it deserves." Now you know why you fell for her in the first place. Her absolute adorable way of loving you, and her need to reaffirm that one thought in her mind that seemed to always linger.

"...Thank you..." you said it under your breath, your words faltering slightly in the midst of an emotional burst your heart just got from whatever magic she put.

"I love you so much." You leaned into her, mumbling, and nuzzling into her hands that held your face.

She giggled, about to practically melt at the sight and the soft touch. She goes closer, brushing her lips first before capturing you into a sweet kiss. "...I love you too."

It lingers, even as you both pull away, and her hands slip to go loosely by the nape of your neck. You could still feel the warmth and softness of her lips.

She looked into your eyes. Not analyzing, not searching, just seeing the shine in them that she always loved to see whenever you were in moments like this.

"You know what?" she says suddenly. You gazed, curiosity striking up to fill your senses at her change of tone for a possible idea.

"We can do something better. Better than...partying, or hanging out with random people, friends of friends. We can have our own fun, sweetheart." A smile was growing on her face, getting bigger and showing her cute teeth with one that had gotten chipped just the smallest bit. She was planning on getting it fixed. You remember.

When you reel your mind back from the distraction so you could sink back into reality, you hear the last of her sentence; "And it doesn't even have to be anything crazy, it can still be fun even with some calmness."

You raised your eyebrows, in question of what exactly she had in mind, and she grinned.

"So...how about...we get off of this couch...and go to our room, and play some Minecraft with you sitting right in my lap? So I can cuddle and kiss you without leaning over to my side..." she suggests, and if the idea of the scene wasn't enough for her, the way your face lit up at it was even more of a love attack to her heart.

Then, you looked down to the cat beside you both, who's either been listening in on the conversation, or napping. "Can we bring Meredith...?"

She giggles wholeheartedly, her head gently tilting as she did. "Yes, we can bring Meredith, baby..."

You silently cheered on the inside, the big smile on your face showing it all as you carefully picked the cat up and stood, bringing Taylor with you by your other hand.

She didn't mind it at all, and loved how fast you agreed to simply play a video game with her.

Your shared footsteps on the wooden flooring was gentle, albeit with some creaks sounding out, it only showed that the house was lived in by the two of you.

As soon as you arrived, you carefully hand Meredith over to Taylor, who blinked, having taken her from you out of instinct. But she saw the excitement visible from you.

She watched you with affection in her gaze, and moved to sit down on the bed, getting comfortable by the center of the pillows, and set down Meredith beside her.

You turned on the tv with the remote, then grabbed the controllers for both of you, and you soon joined her on the bed.

The console turned on with a gentle beep once you pressed the main button on your controller, and you leaned into Taylor with a soft sigh.

She tilted her head, but then smiled as she gently pulled you in, bringing you up to settle in her lap, and your lips parted in surprise.

Then a small, light blush overtook you as you glanced at her over your shoulder. She stifled a small giggle, having kept her promise from earlier that you had either forgotten, or hesitated on accepting.

You decided to have Meredith in your lap too, practically looking like some three layer cake stacked on each other. Taylor smiled widely, reaching over to hold you, and at times petting Meredith.

You went through the games on the homescreen before eventually finding Minecraft, just like she suggested, and you leaned your back against her front as the game loaded up.

She connected her own controller, feeling the textured joysticks and getting herself familiar to the controls again.

Once you've made a new world, you used the splitscreen mode so she could join, and you soon saw her character ingame.

She had a skin that looked exactly like her, although wearing overalls, and shoes that matched your skin's.

You both started gathering wood, and all the materials needed for a house when you found a beautiful little spot for it. Of course, not forgetting to grab beds for the mobs spawning in the nighttime.

It was all going well, and you even had a nether ruin portal nearby with only one block missing, which was in the chest. An easy access to the underworld.

You had adventured out a little, finding biomes all around and collecting different types of wood for the house until you were content. There were villages with cats that Taylor was already taming, and a swamp with a witch's hut.

You were up tall on the walls of your shared house as you built, carefully crouching your character, and Taylor was sorting out the items in the chest.

She had already told you that she was planning on going mining when she spots something out the front of your home.

"Oh my god, baby, look," she urged, having stopped on her journey out as she heard a sound and looked up.

You hummed, turning your view to where Taylor was looking ingame, then blinked at the sight. "When did we have a frog here?" you asked, seeing it making itself home right at the path of your house.

"I think you left it, from when you were going to make that farm thing?" She responded in question, unsure as she was trying to remember back from the hour before.

The random situation clicked in your brain, and you relaxed into her. "Ohhh...right, to get the froglight blocks...oops."

"The frog kinda took froglights too literally..." Taylor mumbled gently, as the frog was standing atop the lamppost you had done together. It looked all high and mighty, and you laughed.

She giggled softly too, and that made the cat in your lap open its eyes in curiosity of the slight shaking. Or, it thought you two were purring cats of your own.

"Okay, I'm gonna go mining now..." Taylor murmured, continuing to walk away, and you took a peek.

"Stay safe, baby," you noted, continuing your building as you do. There were meows within the game, and that had Meredith staring at the screen.

Taylor leaned forward, giving a soft kiss to the side of your head. "Love you," she whispered. You flushed gently, feeling your shoulders go ever so slightly upwards at the sudden affection.

"Love you too...and I'm still right next to you. You're not going mining in real life," you said to her, looking at her eyes. They had their corners crinkled, adorably mixed in with her nose scrunched up too.

"I know, I just wanted to kiss you." She leaned in closer. You had an even wider smile than before, giggling as you meet her in a sweet kiss upon the lips.

When you pulled away, she rested her chin on your shoulder, adorable and comfortable there. You both had gone on to your own tasks, and a quiet peacefulness settled in the atmosphere.

She was travelling the dark caves until—"Oh my god!!?" she exclaimed. Your eyes went to her side of the screen, and a large gasp came from your mouth as you saw her getting blown up by a creeper.

The death message came up, and you blinked at first, but then bursted into fits of giggles, laughter sparkling up the area and her heart like none other.

She joined in giggling beside you, all while pressing respawn to go quickly retrieve her stuff back before it could disappear.

"Gosh, these creepers..." she murmured out softly, sighing as she tries to make her way back to whichever cave she let herself wander into.

You heard another explosion, but nearby the house this time, which could only mean that she had gotten another creeper attack.

You had to resist from laughing again as you saw her staring up at you in the game, catching your gaze. Somehow she hadn't died. "Baby...are you okay??"

"Yeah! Yes...just...I have a creeper curse now. Which is great, exactly what I wanted for mining...three of them jumped from behind me!" she says, rambling slightly.

"Light up the place more, sweetheart. And get a shield, if you haven't..." You let one of your hands trail down to her arm to give a comforting rub, and she pouted.

"I have...they just come out of nowhere!" You could see the shape of her lips in the corner of your eye, above your shoulder still, and you couldn't hold back a smile.

"Well...they are called creepers..." you whispered, the old pun within the sentence being very obvious, and she laughed softly once again. "Shush..."

Little gentle sounds played as she picked up her items again, getting them secured into her inventory. "Our iron and diamonds are safe, thankfully."

You cheered gently, and finished up the last of the house you were building. She was coming back, running across the grass and grabbing some food for the both of you in the midst of it.

Once she arrived, she saw the house that you've been working on, and stayed admiring it for a moment. "That house looks beautiful, baby," she whispered near your ear.

You smiled softly, feeling your heart warm up at her compliment. "Thank you...I need some good boots though, I keep falling."

She gave a soft kiss somewhere on your skin. "Yes, you love falling while building. I'll get you some. Enchanted too, maybe..." she murmured, trailing off. She was wanting to give you the best of gifts, and you had to catch your heart from entirely bursting.

By the hours that passed, and a mealtime going by too, you two soon had the tv off, bodies in comfy clothing, and you were settling into bed for the night.

You went in first, getting comfortable on the soft mattress. Taylor joins in slowly behind you, laying down on her side of the pillows, even if it didn't matter, since you both would always get in each other's sides, cuddling.

Her arms circled themselves around your waist, and she pulls you closer. You turned around so you could see her.

It was gentle as you leaned in, breathing in her scent and burrowing yourself into her. She felt that fuzzy, gentle feeling within her, her nose brushing against your hair in the meanwhile.

With a breath, you adjusted yourself more, deciding to rest your cheek against her chest. For a bit, you tilt your head up to catch her gaze down on you, and you search her eyes with carefulness. "...Do you know how much I appreciate you?"

A smile grew upon her lips, and she moved to intertwine your legs below. "Maybe now I do...but I kind of see it every day. When you kiss me...or look into my eyes..." she whispered.

This was as close as you could possibly be with her, all warm and snuggled up. She then went to give your nose a small, tiny little boop. "And I'm just as grateful to have you, sweetheart..."

Your heart was full of what the sunshine would feel like in the mornings, and you took in the moment, simply going quiet again and cuddling.

It was the time to fall to slumber. Definitely. But you were only blinking, eyes open, and even if you let them fall to a close, it would be pointless. A staring contest with the darkness without drifting away.

And so, a gentle sigh escapes you. "Tay..." you whispered, and that made you have her loving attention once more.

"Mmn?" she responded, having been gently running her hands through your hair. The cats weren't in bed this time around. It was just you, and her, and nothing else.

"...I dunno if I can sleep," you murmured, looking up at her once more. There was just that second of admiring her, to feel the rise and falls of her chest for just a bit.

She hums softly in thought, hands mindlessly gliding down to your arm. "What do you wanna do then?"

"...Sleep..." you responded back, in that sleepy tone she loved. She giggled, hugging you closer. "I know, baby. I mean, do you wanna...watch a movie...talk...or...?"

"Mmn." You gently squished your cheek against her slightly, and Taylor could feel the small pressure on her chest.

Then, you breathed in softly. "Can you...um...will yooouu..." your word was elongated in both hesitation and trying to find the right way of saying it, fingers fiddling with the fabric of her shirt.

She waits patiently, her lip caught in her teeth ever so gently, and there was a small raise in her brows.

You took a deeper breath next. "Can you maybe, sing to me? Maybe?" the words spilt out soon enough, and Taylor gazed down at you to see the glimmer in your eyes that had hopes and nerves.

"You don't have to, its just..." you shook your head, a sigh escaping as you hug her closer again.

She goes to gently pause you before you could speak any further. "Baby...of course I'll sing for you," she easily said.

"Do you know how cute you are?" Taylor whispered, stifling a small, sweet laugh, and a warm blush was making its way up your cheeks.

She shifted slightly to get more comfortable, her cheek against the pillow while parts of her skin also brushed against your hair still. "Mmn...what are some lullabies I know of..."

You waited patiently, not wanting to push, but also hoping for one thing. Just one special thing.

The air in the room was gentle, and it was quiet. Only the AC had a small noise, and her breaths were right next to you.

Then, she smiles, giving you that softest, most comforting look that she always had. She didn't take long. A starting was slowly coming around, and her humming rose up quietly in the hushed room.

"...I remember tears streaming down your face when I said I'll never let you go." she whispered, the gentle melody in her voice following along.

She had her hands moving gently, fingers going to thread through your hair like it was her second nature to do, and most times, it was.

"When all those shadows almost killed your light..."

"I remember you said, 'Don't leave me here alone'..."

"But all that's dead and gone and passed tonight." You could hear her heartbeat to where you were at her chest, and it was matching in tenderness of the music.

"Just close your eyes..." She went to have her hand hovering right above your forehead, gliding down gently to make you close your eyes, and you giggled. It made her falter her singing slightly to join you in a small, quiet chuckle, but she continues.

"The sun is going down...you'll be alright." You nuzzle more into her, letting out a sigh in relief. Her hand travels to your back, and she sneaks in a sweet kiss to your forehead with her very own nuzzle.

"No one can hurt you now."

"Come morning light..."

"You and I'll be safe...and...sound." Once the chorus goes down, her voice goes back down to a hum, and it was working. The drowsiness was settling in.

"Don't you dare look out your window, darlin', everything's on fire..."

"The war outside our door keeps ragin' on..."

"Hold on to this lullaby." You could feel your eyes starting to get droopy, and it was getting difficult to keep yourself awake just to hear her sing.

But by the time you closed your eyes again, there was no resisting in surrendering yourself over to the peaceful slumber.

"Even when the music's gone..." She looks down, a small raise of affection in her lips as she notices. "Gone..."

Then, she starts humming softly, following the gentle melody she remembers from the many times she's played it, both to you, to an audience, and when she first produced the song. But the most points that had gotten the record on that song, was you. And she adored it just as much as you did.

She does so until she decides its long enough of a melody for your mind to be at peace, and your gentle expressions showed so.

Only her breaths sounded out next, and she was closing her eyes, too. She was content with being intertwined with you, feeling your body's warmth like the light of the sun.

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[sege-h]

23 and 28 for Storm!

8, 12, 15 and 26 for any other oc(s) of your choice!

23. how would you describe their voice? can they sing?

I am absolute shit at describing voices HSGDSHDH That's why it's hell to find any VCs. I can hear the kinda voice I want in my head but can't describe it. So I'm gonna sorta cheat and refer to Johnny Yong Bosch as Vash-- the way his voice can go from soft to serious to chaotic/kinda maniacal pretty much on a dime. That's how Storm's is

He can sing! Whether he sings good or horribly depends entirely on whether he's trying to annoy someone with it or not

28. how do they show that they care about someone? how do they express that they don’t like someone?

He'll actually respect what you ask of him 😂

The difference between someone he's just met asking him to stop his shenanigans, and someone he cares about asking the same is night and day. He doesn't like upsetting those he cares about.

There's so many other ways because when Storm cares he cares A Lot, but this is one of the more subtle ones that strangers might not be able to pick up on because of Course you stop acting like a fool when someone asks you to

The 'don't like' one is harder to answer because Storm snarks anyone they meet. But if he decides he dislikes someone then that snark gains a certain edge to it. He purposefully starts poking and prodding with his words, aiming to be an absolute nuisance at best, and ruin someone's day at worst

8. do they have a nickname? who gave it to them? if it’s not derived from their real name, what’s the story behind it?

Sharp. His real name is Ashen/Ash. But during the war against Eggman, the Resistance faction he frequently went up against nicknamed him Sharp. It was easier to signal out that he's coming in with a raid than to be like "It's that wolf guy!" or "It's that guy with the sharp metal arms!" etc

He doesn't really mind it so it kinda stuck.

Also bc this is my current brainrot I'm gonna cheat and answer for my Pokemon AU Kamina too. His nickname is Beep and he only allows his siblings to use it. It came about when his voice started cracking, and little Claire started calling him Beep because of it. He's secretly endeared by it but gets absolutely embarrassed about non-family finding out.

12. how long have they been around? do you know their birthday? is their birthday the day you made them or another day? what do they think of celebrating birthdays?

Outside of universe? Atos has been around since 2011. In universe? He's been around for about 50 years. Technically. Given he either dies or gets stasis'd in his late 20s

Idk his exact birthday I just know it's somewhere in August.

He likes celebrating other people's birthdays, but is pretty neutral on his own. He doesn't think much about it.

15. how big or small is their family? who did they live with growing up? do they live with anyone now?

Sharp's family is Just Right for his standards. Growing up he lived with his mother and father-- at least until he ran away at the age of 11. After that he was on his own for the remainder of his childhood

Now he lives with what remains of the resistance faction he used to fight against-- and more importantly to him, with Percy, Riley, and Dahlia (though he takes a while to accept/appreciate that last one)

Given he used to wish for even just one person to call family, three entire people is more than he ever expected

26. how do they move? are they clumsy? light on their feet? do they use mobility aids?

Zel is kinda animalistic in his movements. He walks on two legs, sure, but if he's not standing or alert he has this kinda slouch to him. Not too much, but enough that it can be noticed. He can drop down on all fours at a moments notice, though he's quick either way. He uses his tail as a sort of fifth limb, either attacking with it or using it to hold someone up-- whether it's gentle or not depends entirely on who it is.

[skitskatdacat63]

Sometimes reading reviews of shows/movies with complicated/controversial characters makes me concerned at other people's lack of empathy. Or maybe I'm too empathetic 🤔

[lovely-english-rose]

force myself to take a break and play some games tonight bc otherwise i would finish both those drawings tonight

and my game gets fucking stuck

[captain-squid-knuckles]

i just learned how to properly screenshot today and these two took me out

[tonycries]

Your (Super)Man - N.K.

Synopsis. He’s not a bird. He’s not a plane. He’s…just Nanami Kento from the journalism department. But you have a feeling that Nanami’s hiding a super big secret - and not just the one down there.

Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, Clark Kent! Nanami, SUPERMAN AU, aphrodísiacs, coworkers-to-Iovers, he is a GENTLEMAN, slight víoIence, Itadori cameo, saving people, píning, manhandIing, he is BIG, cervíx kíssing, making it fit, pússydrúnk Nanami, oraI (fem rec.), BRÉEDING, creampíes, cúmplay, spítting, Nanami’s POWERS, matíng presses, face-sítting, buIges, BREAKING THE BED, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 9.7k

A/N. CLARK KENT(O) NANAMI SAVE MEEEE

“There’s just something about him, Shoko.”

“Right…”

You’re flicking a quick roll of your eyes as your coworker continues stealing drowsy sips of her early morning coffee. Well, her fifth of the morning. Grumbling out, “I swear- There’s just something about him that feels so…” Eyes drifting - as they much seemed to do these days - to the man in question. “-different.”

And, listen, Shoko would whole-heartedly prefer the tittering office gossip with you over working on her weeks-late article any day of the week. 

But times like this, she really had no idea whether the two of you were staring - undoubtedly creepily - at the same Nanami Kento. 

That stoic, mild-mannered hire who’d just been freshly accepted into your journalism sector. Tall, seemingly powerful - yet, he acted anything but. A gentle giant with the suspicious patience of a saint even against the worst of editors - honestly, she’s musing, just who was this guy?

“Hm…” Fingers digging into her achy temples as if trying to will away the memory of her upcoming deadlines. And this. “Maybe you just need to get laid. A proper, genuine good f-”

“Shoko.”

And she’s cracking her first laugh of the day, ducking underneath her computer screen with a sigh as Yaga passes by dangerously close. “Well, you were thinking about it. Harlot.”

You’re sighing, too - though for a much different reason, she imagines. 

Gaze narrowing as you finally rip them away from the blond-haired man dwarfing the corporate cubicle opposite the two of you. Bumbling and fixing the glasses on his face for the nth time this hour. “W-well it doesn’t help that he’s hot.”

Shoko’s mere milliseconds away from opening her sharp mouth once more - and you’re mere milliseconds away from wincing at what was surely to fall from them. Before- 

A call of your name.

Ah, saved by the bell - or, your managing editor, more like. Though, you weren’t sure if you’d consider it “saving” when Yaga’s holding out a crisp stack of documents your way. Brows furrowed underneath his sunglasses, he gruffs out, “They finally cleared the pitch for your article on that flower. You’re good to go.”

“O-oh, that’s great. Thank you.” Plastering on a simpering smile on your face, you’re hastily clasping those papers. “I’ll get started on the interviews right away.”

Articles on flower shops weren’t quite the adrenaline-thumping journalism you’d expected to work on when you first joined this company. Initially concocting fantasies about interviewing your city’s nefarious villains or perhaps even…Superman .

But ah, those were just dreams. And it seems that someone here had to report on things like mysterious flower shipments to local florists - which just-so-happened to be you.

You’re pulled out of your pitiful little reverie by another echo of your name. Turning back to Yaga, brows raised. “Yes?”

“And take Nanami with you.”

Oh.

Oh. 

“Ah, sorry you’re paired up with me, Nanami.” You’d be chuckling much, much later when you’d gathered your files and your wits to be stuffed inside an elevator with your coworker. “I’d imagine something like this probably wouldn’t have been your ideal first taste of real journalism.”

Eyes straying anywhere but where you could spy the way the suit buttons over his chest looked like they were about to pop! Nanami was unfairly attractive, even when he was slouched and nervously struggling to meet your eyes with his honeypool ones.

Always known around the rest of the company to be so timid - but you get the feeling that he was being extra jumpy around you.

He’s shaking his head - golden strands of hair curtaining his handsome face. “Please don’t worry. I’m only grateful that you’re taking me with you, I-I promise to try my best not to be a burden, ma’am.”

“Aw, no need to call me that. We’re the same age, after all.” Subtly, you’re mashing the button for the ground floor a few more times. Suddenly reminded of how dizzyingly tiny this space was. How much of it he was occupying. “And I can’t promise that I won’t be a burden, either.”

You’d meant it as a joke - you really did. But after seeing the way that Nanami’s forehead crinkles with a furrow, you almost wish you could take back those words. 

“Anyone would be lucky to have you as a partner.” He’s mumbling - such earnestness dripping from his rich baritone that you can feel your eyes widening a fraction. And Nanami sees it, too. 

“Oh?”

“I mean-” Fingers fumbling to push up his thick-rimmed glasses, he’s tightening his yellow speckled tie almost as if he wished to choke away that burning flush creeping up from the back of his drooped neck and blossoming at the tips of his ears. “Just- just that you’re one of the most c-competent journalists in our company and I’m only honored to be learning from the best and- o-oh, it seems we’re here.” 

It’s a wonder that Nanami noticed - it’s a wonder that you noticed once those metallic doors parted like a curtain to reveal the bustling lobby. Finally here.

He’s holding out the curved end of one big, strong arm, bent at the elbow to show off the straining stretch of his flexing biceps. And you can’t help but ogle. “M-may I?”

It takes you copious seconds of staring at the thoroughly outlined bulge of his sculpted arm for you to finally snap to your senses. And a few more to finally realize what he was asking. 

Something warm and mushy pools in your stomach. Fuck.

Tentatively wrapping your hands around the rock-hard mounds of flesh so that Nanami - ever-the-gentleman - could tenderly escort you out, as if this was a ballroom and not your workplace. 

And you can’t help but think that perhaps you didn’t mind tedious interviews if it went anything like this. 

.

.

.

“So, there’s no sender address?”

“Nope.”

“No date?” 

“Nada.”

“And no postage?” 

“Tch, I wish!”

You’re tapping your trusty pen against the parchment of the notepad, gears wracking in your thoroughly overworked brain. “Mr. Itadori, is there a possibility that this might be a prank?”

Wasuke Itadori shakes his head with a grunt, weathered fingers brushing over the aggressively violet petals of a flower you think looked too bizarre to even be pulled out of your very dreams. He’s tapping the stiff flower once. Twice. 

And you’re gasping when a tiny puff of shimmering pink billows out like a heady cloud. Perfumed. Hypnotizing. A musky vanilla that makes you draw in further, and reminds you of- Eyes peeking over at an aloof Nanami…him. 

“See? Smells jus’ like my wife’s cheap citrus perfume. N’ unless she’s haunting me from beyond the grave as she said she would, it seems too elaborate of a prank ta me. It’s obviously livin’, but I can’t find any information on this flower for the life of me.” The older man crosses his arms, scowling, “Ya have no idea how many times I’ve had ta stop my stupid grandson from trying to eat this thing.”

Humming, you’re jotting down a few notes - fingers tremoring ever-so-slightly at Nanami’s burning gaze right beside you. “Have there been any strange effects on the other flora since you’ve acquired this special flower?”

“Nah, nothing at all- that’s the thing, s’like it’s alien or something. Just showed up at my door one day n’ I dunno what it is.” He’s grouching - and you have to agree. That is strange. 

You’d never heard of any other florist’s receiving this type of strange…gift? 

But you can’t voice anything more before a voice sounds from outside the see-through door, and the man before you clicks his tongue. “Ah! Dammit, that reminds me- my flower vendor’s here already. Excuse me while I step outside, you can throw the lil’ gremlin in with the marigolds if he bothers ya too much.”

You’re holding back a chuckle - honestly, this was nothing like you expected, you think you would have enjoyed this interview regardless. 

Wasuke was a doting grandpa - as much as he may deny it. And his tiny, pink-haired menace of a grandson was positively bouncing off the walls at having official journalists enter the cozy flower shop. Dangling midair off of a closely-observing Nanami’s shoulders with two chubby arms wrapped around the other’s neck.

Though, you certainly weren’t complaining at the sight.

“Hey- pretty lady- mister Nananamin-” Yuji’s squeaking into his ear. “Are you two married?” 

You’re sure that if Wasuke was within earshot he’d have grabbed the child by the scruff of his neck. But, alas, Nanami was beared with none of that mercy. 

Teasing, “Hmm, would you like to answer this, Nanami?”

“No- I mean yes! N-no, this lovely lady and I are not married.” He’s huffing out a low bout of laughter, massive palms barely even having to try to pick up Yuji’s wiggling body. And you can’t stop the way your heart lurches when he’s softly cradling the younger boy in one arm - fuck, you really need to get yourself together.

“Why not?”

And perhaps for the first time since you’ve known him, Nanami Kento looked truly and utterly stunned. Hazel eyes pleading your way, mouth opening and closing a few desperate times. “Well…”

But Yuji only plows on with the oblivious confidence that only comes with being freshly five. “Then, since you’re erm- what was that word Megumi said? Uh- d-divowced, can I marry her?”

Ah.

Giggling behind your palm, you’re almost on the verge of saving your poor coworker. Almost. 

That is, before it happens. 

CRASH!

You can’t hear anything, you can’t feel anything, you can’t see anything - other than a bright, blood red. Fuck- 

“N-Nanami? Yuji?” Your voice is shrill - cracking, and you’re unsure if the way you grimace is because of how utterly pathetic you sound or because of the complete devastation in front of you. “Wh-what…”

Shit. 

Heaps upon heaps of concrete and wrecked pieces of building pile upon what was once the Itadori family flower shop. Flowerpots knocked over, the ceiling crumbling, bright morning sunlight filtering from above to illuminate a thick blanket of swirling dust. 

As if a whirlwind had wrecked it through and caught up you right in the middle of it - purposefully. 

Shit shit shit-

Gasping, heaving to try and scramble your thoughts into one big coherent one - but then instantly regretting it when your entire body wracks with painful coughs. You’re so confused - head churning with exactly what’s happening right now - that you barely even register the large hand soothing over your back.

Your ears ring with a sharp keen, eyes bleary and tinging with black - it hurts. And you’re pressing a hand to your forehead with a hiss. Unbalanced voice on the edges of shattering into a zillion pieces, “What happened- wh-where-”

“Shhh shh shh, you’re going to be alright, darling.”

What? 

Your head snaps up - it’s then that you notice it.

Finally. 

Body tucked safely behind the overarching counter of the flower shop, far from where the sudden impact of something would have hit you. You’re crouched against all the wood and debris that dug uncomfortably into your legs. Your hands tremble - but not just with fear, no, with the tearful cries of a curled-up Yuji snuggling thankfully safely into your body.

All in the arms of…Nanami?

But, wait, no- it was as if it wasn’t him at all. 

Because gone were those heavy glasses framing his pretty face, and you’re blinking your lethargic lids urgently to drink in the stern, serious features they’d left behind. Brows furrowed, plump lips pulled tightly when he’s clenching his jaw, muscles flexing as he’s holding you two tighter - as if subconsciously. 

There was something different about him, something…magnetic, like a flip had just switched on. And you’re definitely blaming the way your head was swimming - but you can’t help but think he looked so hot.

Fuck - now’s not the time.

Soft locks of blond were windswept to slick back, that snug coat of his tattered onto the floor to display an emblazoned logo that you wouldn’t be able to mistake even if you tried. 

“You’re…” you breathe, and it’s a wonder that the syllables come out coherent at all. Jaw falling slack at the glimpses of that familiar skin-tight red and blue suit you’ve seen smeared across every magazine, every news column, and every show these days. “...Superman.”

And it takes a second. Two. 

Until Nanami’s long lashes flutter with a little pant of laughter, a singular thick finger straightening into a shush-ing gesture when he’s smiling down warmly at a sniffling Yuji, “This’ll be our little secret, right?”

“Y-yes!” The little boy hiccups, plump palms scrambling to cover his mouth. And you think you could spy a tiny smile rising through his short fingers. Though it wavers, “Mister Nananamin- I mean- Mister Superman, my grandpa is still outside…”

He’s nodding, “I’ll keep you all safe-” Before turning to you with eyes so scorching that you can feel yourself inch in closer against the stiff fabric of his supersuit. “-all of you.” 

“Ahhh~ touching touching. Didn’t think I’d run into dear ol’ Superman here.” A high, eerie voice rings over the thundering blood pumping to your head, and you’re burying even deeper into Nanami’s sculpted side. “But ah, not to worry, Man of Steel, m’jus’ here to pick up a little lost package of my friend’s so…”

Nanami’s stiffening underneath your touch, and with a slow nod he’s getting up from your little hiding place. 

And if looks could kill - which you knew Superman could do - then the greyish, patched man in front of you wouldn’t have been waltzing in through the utterly destroyed door already. As if he owned the place. Owned all of you. 

“Mahito, we’ve spoken before.” Nanami’s voice was hardened with a growl in a way you’ve never heard. Fuming. “Leave now and no one gets hurt.”

There’s a metallic click! resonating across what was left of the four walls of this shop, as if he was loading some type of gun. But not as you’ve ever known one. 

And Nanami’s eyes narrow with a thick coating of tension when Mahito’s fingers curl around that flower - the exact one you’d come here to interview about in the first place. Plucking it neatly from the vase before crushing the waxy petals between his fingers. 

“You sure ya wanna talk to me like that when you’ve got civilians here, Superman?” Voice airy, delighted. As if he wasn’t currently loading an opening in that specialized gun with the gooey insides of that flower. Before pointing it - right at the bullseye where you were scoured away. “Especially with sweetcheeks here? Don’t think I don’t know how soft ya are for-”

Nanami stretches into an attack-ready position. “So you’re after the innocents again.”

“Ah- no, actually.” Mahito snickers. Snickers. “I’m after you.”

BANG!

It all happens so fast that you’re not even sure if everything’s part of your imagination - whether this is all still a dream. 

Because in the bat of an eye, Mahito has the slightly-glowing barrel of the gun pointed your way. Bursting the counter into nothing but a few shockwaves and shards of plastic. 

And in the bat of much less, Nanami’s shielding you with his entire body, sculptured front glissading against your back, beefy arms curled snugly around your waist. Head tucked over yours to make sure every inch of you is protected, Yuji placed gently at his side. 

Your bleary vision clouds with a familiar fog of pink - dazzling and addictive with that same musky perfume. Was- wasn’t this what Wasuke had shown you earlier?

“Shit! Wh-what the fuck is this?!” You’re hearing off in the distance - or perhaps it was right beside you, you didn’t even know at this point. “That damn Hanami- this isn’t the poison-”

He’s letting off a shiver, before gritting out. One arm holding out to you just as it had in the elevator, the memory hits you with pang. “Y-you two need to get to safety. Now. May I?”

If it weren’t for the hours of droning meetings faced with Nanami, the weeks of trying to get him to speak with you - months of memorizing every syllable that dripped from his pretty lips, then you wouldn’t even have noticed. But you did. 

“W-wait-.” Your throat scratches and struggles to get the words out, matching the shakes in his own tone. “You’re hurt, aren’t you?”

But the only answer you get is a soft, mysterious smile. And the repeated hum - as if you weren’t wrangling yourself around to peek at where he was undoubtedly hit. “No need to worry about me, my love- ah. My first and foremost priority is you two-”

“But you’re hurt.” you’re crying out, gasping when Mahito’s eyes lock with yours. And he leers, knobbly fingers fussing to reset that weapon once more. 

“I know.” Stray tresses of golden flaxen stick to Nanami’s sweat-glimmered forehead like an impromptu crown, and you don’t know how he has it in himself to smile down at you. Cradling Yuji in one arm, and you in the other as if the two of you were easily weightless - you can only gape at the adorable dimple digging into the left corner of his mouth. “Now, hold on tight.”

You do - and you can only blink before your savior is flying. 

Now, you’d always marvelled at the sheer heights that Superman reached on those live newscasts. Wondering just how euphoric it must be to soar through the air, free from every care in the world - well, as much as you could be when the fate of the world rests on your shoulders, at least.

But this? This was heaven.

Wind whipping your face like an icy mask, Yuji’s high peels of laughter tinkling in your ears. You can’t do anything but watch and watch as the demolished flower shop grows smaller. A speck. 

“Oh- oh my god.” You’re whispering thorough scrunched eyes, nails clawing deeply into the mountainous curve of his well-defined deltoid.

And if it hurt, then Nanami didn’t give a single sign. Instead, he’s laughing - quiet, and as delicate at the cottony clouds passing you by. “S’alright, s’alright. Super- Ken’s here. N’ m’not gonna drop you.” You’re cutting through the air so fast - staggeringly - but right now, when Nanami’s boring his eyes into yours, it felt like time itself had stumbled to a stop. He’s pulling you even closer to his powerful body, “I’d never let ya go, darling.”

Yet, when the view of your cozy Metropolis apartment comes into view - you almost whine at the fact that he has to. 

“Don’t you worry about a thing now.” Nanami’s ruffling Yuji’s windblown mop of pink hair - even more tousled with the wind. “I’ll be going, and I’ll keep both you and your grandpa safe.”

And looking at him right now - velvety crimson cape flowing at the wind seeping in through your open window, one arm bulging with muscles as he leans readily against the frame - you wonder how you could’ve ever thought that anyone other than him could be Superman.

“Come back safe.” You’re choking out, hands clasped. “W-we’re still not done with our article…”

“Mhm, you better hold me to that, ma’am.” 

And with that, Superman - Nanami - was zipping through the air at a mach speed that made you realize he was intentionally slowing it down for both you and Yuji on your way here. 

Fingers quivering, it takes you what feels like practically forever to turn your television on - precisely onto a live newstream of how Superman had entered the site of a villain attack. Ready to save. To be a hero. 

Eyes locked mindlessly on the tiny blimp of red and blue onscreen, you cuddle a fidgety Yuji on the bouncy cushions of your sofa. For your jittery nerves just as much as his. “Your husband is so cool, lady- he’s Superman! Oh- whoops, shhhh! Tha’s a secret though…”

“Yeah…” you’re breathing out. “Yeah, he is cool, isn’t he?”

.

.

.

Forty-five saved, three buildings wrecked, and one injured. 

One injured - him.

Though, Nanami wouldn’t quite count himself with any civilians injured or…worse. He never quite does. 

But, oh, it was so hard not to when the first thing he’s peeling back that hazy layer of fatigue in his eyes is you - you, you, you. In all your glorious self, big, pearlescent tears spilling down your pretty cheeks and splattering in tiny puddles onto his bare chest. 

His bare, bandaged chest. 

And for a second, powers set aside, Nanami thinks he might just have died and reached heaven. How fitting that the angels looked like you. 

Voice hoarse as he’s muttering his first few words, “Are- are you alright?”

“-stupid. Asking about m-me when you’re the one hurt. Didn’t even-” Your sobs garble out into words, and you’re half-heartedly hitting your fist against the unbandaged part of Nanami’s skin. “Don’t you ever do that again- you had me- so worried.”

Ah, he’d won the fight - and he finally felt like it.

Silently, he makes quick work abandoning those delicate bandages of yours - a strange part of him almost hurt to unravel your work like this. To unravel nothing but silken, unblemished skin after hours of healing abilities.

Though, Nanami gives all the credit to your care, anyway.

Warm fingers cup your head to nuzzle your clammy face against the crook of his neck. Practically draped over your bed and onto his body now, and you could feel his burning skin, smell those musky pheromones of his. “Got it got it, I won’t be scaring you like that again.”

“Th-the neighbors were so worried when you just showed up all injured n’ half-fainting at my window, y’know? I had to bribe them to be quiet with a few of the flowers that Yuji’s grandpa left.” You’re muttering, more to fill the strangely thickening silence than anything. 

“Ah, tell- tell Mr. Itadori that I will have his shop reconstructed by the end of this week.” He’s whispering, voice so strained that you had to crane your head to hear him - close. “Was Yuji doing alright?”

“Mhm, never been better, apparently. He just left with his grandpa, and they invited us over for dinner before…” Brows furrowing, words withering away on your tongue at the agonized knit in his brow. There was something…different. “Are- are you really okay, Kento?”

Nanami doesn’t comment about that use of his first name - nor does he embarrassingly babble out how it might just be his new favorite song now. 

He can’t.

Because Nanami was panting - groaning. Pearly whites clenched so hard that you think you could hear them creak. 

There was a strange simmering flush creeping up his body, staining it such a delicious strawberry pink that made your mouth water- or maybe that was just the emanating clouds of vanilla musk saturating your lungs. Clinging onto Nanami’s body like a dripping second skin-

“I…” he’s gulping, half-lidded eyes shifting away from yours like he couldn’t even bear to look at you right now. Didn’t know what he would do. “-my apologies. But what that fucker- ah- excuse my language. What Mahito hit me with seems to not have been a poison, as I had thought. Rather, now that it’s finally spread through my body, I feel it’s something else entirely… ” 

“What is it- does it hurt?”

“It seems to be…” Gesturing wildly with his hands, careful not to jostle you. “-an aphrodisiac…of sorts.”

You’re letting your lips part, “Oh. Wait- ‘of sorts?’”

And ah, there was the timid Kento you knew. He could never lie to you. “It- itseemstoonlyaffectthoseinlove- B-but my healing abilities are working and-” Nanami’s sitting up faster than you could blink. Words running a mile-a-minute, “-and I shall leave in case you feel uncomfortable with me here-”

“Why would you leave?” It’s slipping between your lips before you can register. Still mulling over those previous words - they explained. A lot. 

Nanami stills, hands clasped around those creamy blankets he was flinging off, sure to disappear into the starry night. “P-pardon?”

Well, fuck. 

You’re steeling your gaze - you’ve waited this long. And if there was anything about Nanami’s afflicted aphrodisiac, it was that it was contagious.

Making you breathe in a heavy gulp of candied air, “Aphrodisiac, huh? I’ve read about those, and don’t you think that since you saved me-” Slowly - ever-so-slowly dragging your hands to rest on his smooth shoulders, faces inches away. “-it’s only fair that I help? Besides…I can smell it too.”

Oh, he gasps. A confession if any.

Fingers tangling through those damp locks. “But if- if you get tangled up with me- who knows what other villains will come after you. I might’ve taken down Mahito today, but Kenjaku is still out there. And I have to keep ya safe.”

“Well who’s going to keep you safe?” You scoff, refusing - rejecting - to relent.

“I don’t need to be safe if it means that I can keep that beautiful smile on your face everyday.” And maybe it was the aphrodisiac, maybe it was how close you were to him in this dimly heady lightning, but Nanami didn’t seem like he meant to say that out loud. Not at all. 

Basking in your spellbound silence. “My love…feel this?” He’s clasping one hand around your own, letting you rover a greedy grope of his plush pecs - his heartbeat. Thundering. Frighteningly so. “Th-this isn’t any old aphrodisiac, especially considering me.”

“And?”

“And that means, darling-” But he was, too, just as much. “That m’gonna want ya…need ya. So badly and fuck! M’gonna make ya forget what it feels like without me…” One rounded index trailing up, up, up to about halfway up your tummy. “-here.”

You’re shuddering, taking in deep gulps of that electric air. “...A-and?”

He’s jerking you forwards with a mere fraction of that superhuman strength to splay your body over his towering one. Face lolling into the cushiony valley of his pecs, legs straddling that slutty waist of his in a way that made you shy. Right on top of his drenched boxers. That needy spot between your legs heating up just as much as his condensing breath did on your skin. “I can’t promise that when I fuck you, I won’t break you.”

Fuck. Was this really the same, adorably feeble Nanami Kento from work? You weren’t sure, but you knew one way to find out…

“I’ll…hold you to that.”

But before he was Superman, he was Nanami Kento from the journalism department. And who was Nanami Kento against you?

“Such a stubborn girl.” You’re being surprised with a sudden implanting of his thick set of fingers leaving a sudden swat on your ass, voice teetering on what almost sounded like a growl. “But you’re mine, aren’tcha?”

Your fingers dapple along the sweat-dampened little curls of blond at the sexy edge of his undercut. And it seemed like the more the aphrodisiac boiled into his veins, the more and more he burned feverishly. 

Senses superhuman but already heightening with the coarse need glossing his brain - he could practically taste your arousal. 

Panting. Charming maw falling parted to mist you own with such rousing puffs of his scent, “Kiss me. Please- kiss me.”

And- fuck, Nanami kisses like he couldn’t get enough of you.

Was absolutely drunk with just a simple slide of his pursed mouth against your own, from a tender little peck until he only got greedier and greedier-

“Mmmm-” Rasping grunts curdle at the back of his throat, slurring into a low whine when he’s wrenching a splayed-out hand onto your scalp and dragging you away. Manhandling. Sultry sucks being left on the tenderest spots of your throat, sure to make the office talk tomorrow. “Can feel how fuckin’ wet ya are f’me already, darlin’. S’this the aphrodisiac or you?”

God, it was so embarrassing. 

That silky little puddle of your reflective slick was flooding from between your flimsy panties to press gluey little smooches against his manspread front. 

You’re mumbling, words stumbling over one another when your hips peek in to seat just above that swollen crown of his cock. Already rock-hard. “Y-you don’t have to say it out loud.”

You barely even realize how you’re slipping and sliding in needy little gyrations of your hips before Nanami’s putting a shuddering halt to it. One rude hand curling around that perfect curvature of your waist, he’s snickering at how you’re letting off a thoroughly disappointed whine. “My apologies, but s’hard f’me to act like a hah- gentleman when ya have such gorgeous lips…” He’s chuckling out - humorless, parking one big thumb against the corner of your mouth. “These ones, too.” 

He couldn’t even finish his sentence - couldn’t even finish his thought.

Not before bruising your lips with some of the filthiest little sucks on your lower lip - like he’d simply gone way too long without kissing you. Once. Twice. Again and again and-

“O-oh!”  Your hands scramble to find purchase up on his broad shoulders when he’s darting down one fat thumb to paint with all your silvery pussy slick. Drawing slow meshes of circles on your soppy slit up and down up and down up and- “N-Nanami-”

“Kento.” He’s cutting you off with a fracturing furrow of his brows, “We’re way past last names, don’tcha think, my love?”

Oh, that sweetly rugged tone stirred up something inside you that made you want Nanami now now now.

“Oh? S’that so?” Ravenous edges of his fingers pulling aside your sticky panties to the side to sidle in with one thick drag of his digits, they’re being lacquered with such a heavy layer of your sweet, sweet juices that Nanami can’t help but drag his fingerpads upwards to sniff. To suck one by one. Sweet. “You’re heh- babblin’ cute nonsense, but fuuuuck this cute cunt is talkin’ ta me even filthier.”

In such sappy awe at the way your puffy pussy flaps were sugarcoating him all the way down till Nanami was dripping at the wrist. Metallic wristwatch from work all shiny and ruined-

“Need you t-to touch me inside, Ken–” you’re huffing, circling lazy grinds across his roughened hands. “Please?”

“Anythin’ for my girl.”

And Nanami’s giving your ass another good thwack! of his palm, feeling the vibrato of delicious jiggles before hauling your entire body higher and higher. Letting his back hit the silken sheets of your bed within a fluid motion, before you even know it you’re hovering your clothed cunt over his swelteringly fevered mouth. 

Just one sudden move and you’d be riding his face - exactly what Nanami wanted right now. Yearned. 

“Oh- wait-” You’re startling, fingers fumbling with that tight pencil skirt you’d worn to work specifically for him to see. “Didn’t take this-”

“Not a problem.” He’s grunting, only looking up with droopy eyes at where you’re straddling his handsome face, decorated with tawny strands of hair when he’s grinning. Thick fingers clasping onto the hem at your waist, “Hold on tight n’ show me that pretty pussy.”

RIIIIIP–!

Your skirt is on the floor, torn through like butter - your blouse and bra soon to follow. Impatient. And it’s only once Nanami’s done savoring that sweet embarrassment wafting off of you, the way your drenched pussymound smells so sugary sweet - does he even consider freeing you of them.

He’s scrunching up the sodden wet fabric into a little treasure hidden underneath your pillow - something for him later…

And you’re even wetter than usual, that contagious spell of aphrodisiac making your eyes glaze with sheer need. 

“Aw, look at thaaaat.” Nanami’s breathing - enchanting. The curves of his lips lifting into a smirk at the way your dripping slit treacles a fresh coating of slick all down his tongue, letting it sliiiide a lazy trailway to hit the back of his scratchy tastebuds. “Atta girl, b-better be taking all of me if yer that eager, hm?”

And Nanami is so needy - he’s so desperate to have your clingy pussy make a mess all over his face as soon as possible. 

Breathing in like some pervert to take in your perfumed scent. Reaching up to smear a wet glissade of his lips down your own, and you think that it might just be the filthiest French snog that anyone has ever placed on you. The buttoned edge of his nose mushes against your peeked clit so harshly. 

He’s blazing, cock thumping for more- With a low, heated whistle, he’s nuzzling his sweat-glossed forehead up against your moistened inner thigh. Layers upon layers of your slick coveting his features and stinging delicate little ropes that connect his maw to your cunt.

“Mmm- fuckin’ sweet- fuckin’ hot–” Nanami keens out, pillowy palms spreading your legs so comfortably apart until you felt like he was cracking you open. “C’mon now, sit your f-full weight on me, my love.”

You’re sputtering, thighs all achy with fatigue. “B-but-”

“Darling…” Nanami’s smiling, eyes crinkling adorably at the corners. “Not to be conceited - forgive my tone - but I’m Superman. N’ if there was any way m’to die, then it would be right between these pretty legs of yours.”

And you didn’t know whether it was the fumes of vanilla aphrodisiac taking over his melty brain completely because Nanami was ruthless. 

Your dear, sweet coworker was kissing the very edges of your bloated cunt with one of his oversized fingers. Sifting through to draw numerous innocent hearts on your sensitive clit, before plunging down,down, down-

“Ah!” You’re yelping at the stinging stretch of his souring fingerpads, swirling in mushy little gyrations around and around your elastic entrance. Extra sensitive right now- damn that flower. “H-how is your finger already feeling so…”

“Good? Does my heh- good girl like this?” He’s cooing up at you, feeling your gloopy cunt with such copious inches of his long hands. 

And with such staggering fingers you could only imagine how big he’d be down there…

SWAT!

“Aww, don’t space out already. Wanna hear those p-pretty moans even longer-” The jutting pout of Nanami’s oh-so-cute lower lip smudges against your saturated clit. Tingling and hot when he tilts his head to bite. “‘Sides, how are ya gonna f-fit my cock if this is too big, hm?”

You’re holding back a wrecked whimper when he’s chancing another rummaging finger to part your pursed pussy lips. Ramming up and down to drag a sultry stripe across every nook and gummy ridge, to feel for- 

“F-fuck-” Head throwing back, your spine arches into a tight little bow that slops the entirety of your cunt down onto Nanami’s eagerly awaiting mouth. “There- there there there- don’ stop, Kentooo.”

He’s been waiting for this forever. And he was going to get his fill. 

And you could feel the way his mouth curled into a flirty smile, the back of his sharp chin slathered against the very back of where you needed him the most. 

“Mhm– Not gonna let ya go-” As if to prove his point, one free hand is all it takes for him to latch onto your waist and pin you to ride his face with reckless abandon. Exactly how he wanted it. “Wanna marry ya- be mine- please-” Because Nanami Kento didn’t want to move an inch - couldn’t bear parting with the exact sweet treat that’s haunted his most lecherous dreams since the day he fucking met you. “-never- ah- never after th-this.”

Such pretty, pretty melodies resonate out every time Nanami’s slobbering honeyed flurries of sucks and kisses onto your cunt - and not just from between your lips.

No, your teary pussymound was so loud with wiry sploshes of sap. And he simply can’t help himself from nodding his head with every waterlogged swash - as if he was having a full fucking conversation.

“S’right- m’wife’s always so right aren’tcha-” Nanami’s rawly drenched fingers pump outside - just for a split-second - to pap! pap! pap! his calloused pads on that syrupy little stud of your clit before curling his fingers into his mouth and sucking. Cleaning himself off. “Sh-should hear what yer gorgeous pussy’s been hah- sayin’- such a talkative girl, isn’t she?”

And those drunken chestnut eyes of his were just pleading - begging - for you to babble out, “Wh-what is she saying, Ken?”

“She’s sayin’- boasting, actually…” he’s drawling off, and with just how utterly fucked that Nanami looked right now, you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d lost his train of thought. Giggling - giggling out, “-that she can take three.”

He was determined to prove it to you.

To swell your adhesive walls open with three of his pulpy fingers until you felt like you were going to burst. Those thickset globular ends of his digits reaching for that precious little bullseye of your cunt - he’s caressing you lovingly from the inside.

Over and over back and forth in maddening crawls until you were halfway through sobbing. And a primal itch inside him purrs at the sight of those prettily glistening tears in your eyes.

Ah, you looked so gorgeous riding his face like this - and, really, it wasn’t Nanami’s fault that his mouth felt a little left out…was it?

“B-both?” You’re dawdling your limp arms precariously onto the mahogany headboard - something that lasts for a generous two seconds before he’s unlatching your hands to dig harshly into his prespired tug. Firm arm around your first nudging you to pull- “You’re seriously gonna t-try n’ fit both?”

Both being the way that Nanami’s overfilling your snug channel with the dual penetration of his long, extra-sensitive tongue. 

Hissing with a slightly feral snarl marring those features when your tight hole won’t give way, Nanami’s bumping his nose against your sensitive nub with shy pecks once. Twice. Thrice to bully his feverish muscle inside.

“H-hngh—” he’s groaning at the tugging squeeze of your rubbery cunt. Stray fingers scissoring open your gluey walls, “Need ya to m-milk my tongue- know you can- ah! Gonna take it like my good girl, aren’tcha?” 

And it happens all at once.

You don’t know what you’re more surprised at - the way that he’s somehow managing to wedge in that sugarcoated drive of his tongue, or the way that you’re cumming.

Your own high taking you by surprise - taking all but Nanami by surprise. 

And you’ve never felt anything like this before, eyes flashing with white-hot stars. 

They’re burning into your brain and rendering you absolutely stupid with every bludgeon of his fingers into your gooey depths. So fast and hard that you can feel the recoil from your bulging g-spot sprinting in cratering vibrations down your spine.

“Nana- Ken-ohhh fuck!” Your mouth drivels away mindlessly, the euphoria so good that you can feel pools of dribble spilling from the corners of your lips with every grind. Thighs quaking, somehow wanting more- shit, seems the aphrodisiac won’t be done after just one…“M’cumming- ngh- m’cumming m’c-cumming.”

“Mhmmm- already know.” Words sinking down into what almost sounds like whines, and Nanami almost feels like he could cum in his pants. “Come now- pull on m’hair n’ r-ride me through that pretty high.” Filthy. Depraved. He’s curling the deliciously gravely tastebuds on his tongue to lap up every one of your knotted waves of slick, letting viscous wad after wad hit the back of his throat with a lewd splat!. “H-hehhh. Chatty pussy- y’know what else she’s sayin’?”

Shit- the idea makes your fingers nimbly pull at Nanami’s soft strands until he’s wafting out a low atta giiirl. Mumbling through croaking moans that just won’t stop dropping from your lips, “Wh-ngh! what?”

“She’s hngh- saying…” Yeah, it wasn’t the aphrodisiac - it definitely wasn’t the aphrodisiac that had him losing his fucking mind like this. It was you. “-that yer gonna g-give me another biiiig one very soon.”

Oh.

That wasn’t a promise - Nanami didn’t have to promise that. 

Because he was so intoxicated by that caramel scent sticking to you. Increasing twofold when with a sodden swat! down your bawling slit, you’re being stretched out with three of his digits until you were wide agape. Embarrassingly, so.

But not for Nanami - with a tantalized loll of his head into the silk-covered pillows, he’s gifting your sloppy entrance with a thick wad of saliva. 

As if the need was infectious - that orbed mass of spit flooding the inside of your cozy pussy just before his tongue is. 

“Ngh- s-so hot- ya like that new lipstain, my love?” He’s gulping down the excess slushes of your slick with every thrust past your glutinous walls, hard. Sloppy. Making such a mess on purpose, because for all how straightlaced Nanami was - all that shattered when it came to you. “-s-so sweet. Ah- h-hold my hand if s’too much, darling.”

“Feels so s-sensitive but…” Your jaw drops into a soft oh! when his rugged tongue drags over the globed bruises of his fingertips inside. Fingers scrambling for his free ones in midair, “-but I want more, Kentooo-”

With the leverage on your hand, he’s helping your burning thighs manage out a few more soppy strokes up and down. 

Your head is so dizzy by now, and you can barely see straight. Barely stumble to match every sopping smooch being punished upon your overwhelmed pussy. “Look so pretty like this- So tight- so cute. Probably c-couldn’t even ngh- fit my tip this way.”

“S-so mean.”

“I’d be nice if ya- hngh- spit in my mouth.”

Gasping, “Like this?”  But you didn’t even have to ask - you knew the answer in Nanami’s eyes, in the way he was smearing your pussy lips thoroughly ajar. In the way his dilated pupils run all the way to the back of his lips when you do. 

Your greedy gaze dazes back down to take in that heavenly sight of him - and you almost wish that you still had your camera for the article today with you. Because this was a sight you wanted to remember forever and ever. 

He’s so pretty with his golden locks splayed out like an angelic halo on the pillowcase below, clammy skin flushed rose red, swollen lips coral pink and gumming over your gluey ones like it was his favorite candy. Sucking. Even harder at the sloshes of translucent sap that laminated his face down to his chin, his neck, and all the way up to his cheekbones. 

Thighs stuttering and sticking with every grind on top of his face, it’s all you can do to manage out a pitchy, “Think I might just- K-Ken–”

He’s swirling up a lazy few fingertips to your needy clit and pinching. “-cum all over m’face again, my girl.”

You do. You do like you can’t stop.

And he’s supping up every draining burble of your flooding slick like it was an antidote to this little ah…indisposition. 

He says so, too - gurgling out wet little scientific explanations into your cunt that make your high peak with orgasms upon orgasms. Your second, third, and forth meshing into one to make you practically convulse. Nanami’s forced to dig his fingers into the plush of your thighs to stop you from escaping. 

And the question about whether this was part of his powers is halfway out of your mouth before Nanami’s leaving off a final swat! again your drooling pussy.

Chuckling - crazed - at the wispy sprays of juices that makes you gush out. 

“C’mon now, do those legs s-still work?” Nanami can’t hide the way that his deep voice wobbles into what almost sounds like a laugh. High. 

You’re being ragdolled with a squelching pop! off of his heated mouth and easily lifted to take his third favorite seat of yours - his lap. The second being his mouth, and the first- well, it was sure to be his thoroughly achy, angry cock right about now. 

“Ken-”

Nanami couldn’t bear to hear his name in your sweet, whimpering tone - he just couldn’t. Shutting you up with a slow slide of a kiss, “Yeahhh, darlin’...kiss me- more. Lick it allll up.”

“D-didn’t think you’d be so dirty…” you’re gasping, when his tongue pries your slagging maw open to once more spit. Sweet. Caramelized. 

“Oh, my pretty girl…” Two of his soppingly wet fingers smush your cheeks into a pathetic pout, “You haven’t seen dirty just yet. Now- spit back in m-my mouth, why don’tcha?”

You do - splattering a messy mark right at that adorable dimple of his with your messy aim. But he loves it - it was so sweet. Darting out a tongue to extract back all those sugary remnants before giving you one, final French kiss. 

Begging in that growling way of his, “Whaddya- whaddya want from me- I’ll give ya anything- anything-” Both arms looping your waist to plaster your sweaty front into his Herculean one, you have to hold back a keen at how your hardened nipples massage against his pecs. 

But, most of all, what you could feel - what you so badly wanted to feel - was that long, thick outline that jerked once you glide away sweaty strands of Nanami’s hair. Desperate. 

“Wan’ your cock, Kento.” You were way past feeling any sort of embarrassment now. Winding your arms around his sculpted shoulders, “N-need you ngh- inside me. Now.”

Of course, whatever you wanted - Nanami Kento would give.

He’s tugging down on the elastic waistband of those too-tight boxers, and your ears burn with the saturated schwf! of soaked fabric on skin. And that superhero suit…did not do him justice. 

Nanami’s slouching back on one arm when you’re oh-so-impatiently helping him kick off that useless piece of fabric. Head tilting with an uncharacteristically cocky smirk, “Like what you ah- see, hm?”

Shit, did you ever. 

Because it’s always the quiet ones - always. 

And with your seat position right at the thick, globular mushroom tip of Nanami’s cock, you knew that he’d be packing a staggering few inches. The mere outline of it puckering up against your pussyflaps enough to get you to gulp with nervousness.

But this? This had your jaw dropping. 

Fingers trailing down that lightly fleeced copper happy trail of his in utter disbelief. Because not only was Nanami Kento big - he was big. 

Swollen, glistening near-nine inches that jerked at the vulgar size difference of your digits struggling to wrap around his ridiculous girth. Nestled against bulky breeder balls rounded and weighing heavily underneath his strawberry pink length. He seemed even harder than usual - and it was all for you.

Fuck, that aphrodisiac. This was all for his gorgeous (future) wife.

Lazily drooling out a thick few wads of pearly pre that butters over your fingerpads, and just a simple touch - just one drag of his sweltering hot length makes Nanami whimper-

“O-oh- yeahhh- brace yerself, my girl.” He’s letting his head tumble back with a groan, heavy-handed arms guiding to the fleshy mound of your waist. “Gonna be ah- ruinin’ this pretty cunt-”

Nanami’s making you mewl with a welcoming little thwack! of his plumply bloated cockhead against your puffed-up pussy lips. Making your creaky bedframe sing out a few protests. Stirring out a staccato of one - two - three before finally - finally - slipping right between that pursed pout. 

CRASH!

An overwhelmed hand of his grips your headboard the moment he’s pushing and pushing - only to have the strong mahogany break underneath his superstrength. Damn, these powers.

“Awww, look how much yer drooling-” Nanami’s hiccuping with every tiny clench of your gummy walls around that cylindrical intrusion. A mean few fingertips so ferally smearing over the rings upon rings of saturated sap your cunt was slobbering all over his hefty base. Drawing a foggy line with them over your tummy, “G-gonna be riiiight here…h-heh.”

And maybe it was best that your dear Nanami was talking to, well, her. Because just the simple stretch that came with his fattened tip was enough to render you spellbound. 

“Nana-”

Smack! “Mhm? M’here, m’here, your dear hngh! Kento is here.”

“Kento- oh my goood-” Nonsensical syllables drooling from your lips and readily available for Nanami to kiss away. Your head slags drunkenly into the crook of his neck with each sinking inch, “S-s’so big, dunno if it’ll even ah- fit.”

“Shhh, s’gonna fit. Deep breaths…deep breaths.” 

You’re echoing, trying to time your stumbling gasps to match his. Backfiring when you only obtain lungfuls of his masculine scent, ‘D-deep breaths?“

“Mhmm- deep-” Oh, but even he wasn’t immune to the cloggy clamp of your pussy that had Nanami rutting. “Whoops.” One of his powerful forearms showcase in front of your narrowed vision, ogling all the pumped veins and rippling muscles. “C’mon- bite.”

You’re listening without a second thought, teeth sinking into the smooth skin - gurgling back tiny sobs at the sheer stretch. It felt like you were being split apart. 

He’s rolling his tips upwards, glissading you in a cozy massage against the ridges of his sweat-shielded abs. “M’gonna make it- duh. Look at me-” Dextrous fingers curling around your throat to make your woozy gaze focus on him, “Yeah- yeah. Look riiiight at me wh-when I ah- ”

And it takes only the tiniest probe of his thumpingly peaked veins bludgeoning against your tender walls, fuming divot bawling out a few geysers of creamy precum that fill you up scorchingly.

It takes only that for you to cum with an unstable shudder, moans piling on top of moans. You’re digging your fingerpads into Nanami’s damp scalp and pulling when you cum for the nth time on his cock.

You didn’t even know how you were cumming again - why, but you had a feeling that the thickening perfume of vanilla and candy in the room had something to do with it…

“C-cummin’ from jus’ the ah- tip? Seriously?” Nanami’s breathing, chest heaving with awe. Pushing and pushing away the heavy strands of his blond hair just to see you. And the urgent motions only make your pussy slide down even more, spearheading his lusciously right-leaning curve up into your gooey placeholders. “Really are jus- ah- made f’me- really ah! So perfect. So, so perfect.”

You’re watching his huffs turn heated, “Mmm- wanted you to f-fuck me like this ever since I was- ngh at the office.”

“Ohhh what a coincidence.” He grins - grins. “I’ve wan’ed to fuck ya like ah- this, since I first s-saw ya. Woulda fucked ya right then n’ there in your pretty lil’ cubicle if I ah- could.”

Crying out, “More- more more more-”

“Jus’ another inch-” Nose crinkling at the gripping resistance of your tight entrance, you were so slicked-up that you were practically flooding him with delirious puddles of resin. His fat thumb smears open your lips, “S-see? Juuuus a lil’ more-”

Oh…fuck.

He was finally- wait. No, this had to be a dream, right?

“Wait- shiiit- did you seriously-” He’s stuttering - stuttering exactly the way he used to back in the office. Back in his disguise. “Seriously…think ya deserve a little r-reward for that, right?”

Your reward just-so-happened to be another treacly wad of saliva being blasted onto your tongue. And by now you’re doing nothing but letting it easily be swallowed up with a cockdrunk smile. “God, m’feelin’ so hngh! full— c-can feel ya right- here-” 

Every jackhammer bullied up into your goopy orifice had Nanami wrecking you from the inside. His crowned, rotund tip prying open those stickily sweet walls of yours, barely even having to try to stir up a wet wipe against your poor cervix. 

“Feel me right-” One softened palm splays down across your tummy. Hard. Feeling for that tenderizing whack of his thickly tip into your most precious spots. “-here, huh? Yeahhh- f-feel that bump- touch it. Gonna c-carve out a fuckin’ ngh- cute lil’ bruise right here.” 

“P-please.”

And then, with a heady drawl of laughter, Nanami’s dredging out his tired tongue to lick over your rapid pulse like he wanted to bite. Palms still groping that orbed bulge, “Y-you wouldn’t believe what this- ngh- this is makin’ me think…”

Ever-so-curious, even when you’re being fucked stupid like this. “Wh-what?”

Earning you another few vicious ruts into your g-spot, a few thin lines of drool waterfall past his lips. Almost as if the very thought is enough to make him light-headed. 

“Jus’ thought a-about how yer always so ngh- pretty.” Muttering low and frantic with every bounce on his painfully hard cock, like he didn’t even want to admit this pussydrunk nonsense. But couldn’t stop. “So pretty when you were handlin’ Yuji today. Pretty when yer all ah- overstuffed with my cock b-but…you’d make an even prettier mama, though.”

Oh. 

A mama - Nanami Kento wanted to make you mama. 

And he was pressurizing you with pound after pound drilling into your melty depths until you were sure that you were molded around his shape. That mountainous curve of his crownhead striking every bullseyed sweet spot.

“Wan’ it-” Your legs wrangle around his slender waist, heels digging into the pretty dimples at the bottom of his spine. “Want you to f-fill me up so ngh- badly, Kento.”

“S-seriously?” Your words so distracting that it has his riotous cock drilling hard into that spot and skidding away in increasingly sappy thrashes against your battered and bruised cervix. Jaw clenching, “Really wan’ me fuckin’ this cute cunt hngh- p-pregnant, darling?”

Making you only nod and nod and nod-

“Yeahhh- anythin’ my girl ah- wants, huh?” He’s tittering at how adorably your hips were slurring out the tiniest of grinds. Up and down up and down - failing to meet his sloppy cadence, but angling your hips to use him. “N’ right now- all I wan’ is you all ah- round and fuuuuull.”

And it wasn’t just the aphrodisiac talking. 

You were beginning to overspill already, the flooded torrentials of his slushy precum seeping from the pouty ends of your slippery slit. You’re moping down his length with such humid tufts of juices, “Cum in me- please- need you to- now.”

“Mama didn’t teach ya ah- patience, my girl?” 

And despite his words, he’s falling back to lounge so sexily against the dampened sheets. Close - he could feel it in the snaking heat at the bottom of his stomach that he was so very close. 

Losing his faint grip on his power, Nanami’s clenching and balling his fists to stop from soiling permanent marks all over your body. Mind shattering. Your bedsprings bursting. Teeth gritting to stop him losing control-

Voice breaking into a few whimpers when he finally utters, “S-s’alright- greedy girl.” Before palming one hand onto the bloated budge of his length, the other swirling over your tearily overstimulated clit and tweaking. “-I can be th-the heh- strict parent.”

Oh, at this point, your orgasm is more a few heavenly tingles than anything else. 

Stimulating your most fragile of pummeled crevices, you’re feeling warm, thick goblets of Nanami’s cum swash in a sticky wave. And there’s so much of it - extra with his condition right now, spurting out ribbony ropes of sickly sweet cum with every squeeze of his bulky balls.

Those knotted wads of ivory are filling you up until your gummy walls were inflating, thunking out a little wet spot at your cervix. Something that he can’t help but keen over a few fat digits and push to make a splashing mess. “Gonna get ya pregnant- I will g-get ya pregnant.”

Nanami’s big, beefy arms are pinning you to the front of his chest like he never wanted to let go. Never would. 

Heaving to chase his breath - and, yet, still failing with every battering ram of his snaking cock. Fucking up the thickly viscous streams of cum up deeper and deeper-

“O-oh.” Nanami’s muttering, glassy wooden eyes straying somewhere beyond you and towards the end of the bed. The strangely…sagging bed. “We broke the- hah- we broke the bed.”

Shit. But you barely have the time to register his words before- THUD!

Your back is being brazenly splayed-out across the mahogany floors of your bedroom, Nanami’s arms underneath you shielding your body from every ounce of the stinging smack. Strong. Holding onto you tight. 

Still pumped inside, still carving out the free ounces with masses upon masses of his swollen cock. 

With your head drooping barely-lucidly to the side, you’re gasping at the blackened palm print that had burned itself onto the floor right beside your head.

The air around the two of you was candied, pheromones of candy and vanilla melding into what was probably your favorite scent now. Ahhhh…he didn’t even care if this was the cure anymore.

And despite being the strongest being in perhaps the entire universe, Nanami was melting into you. His abs adhesively plastered against your front, hips rolling in what can’t even be called grinds. Just simple, sappy gyrations of his still-twitchy cock. 

He’s whispering out a slurring mantra of words into your thoroughly wrenched open mouth - barely even able to talk coherently after that mind-shattering orgasm. “Lock- lock them- lock them please-”

“I-I caaaan’t.” You’re whimpering out, limp legs uselessly dangling like dead weight where Nanami was resting them on the cushiony home of his deltoids. 

But not to worry. Of course not to worry, your Nanami was here for you. 

Biceps bulging when one arm bends to pin your ankles behind his neck, he’s folding you down, down, down into such a filthy mating press. 

Moving you around as if it was nothing, as if you couldn’t hear your joint weakly popping. His healing powers being kicked involuntarily into overdrive…fuck.

Nanami can feel his cock jerk - barely softened for a few nanoseconds before thumping with every ounce of blood in his fully spent brain.

“Awww, t-too weak?” Planting a sodden peck against the corner of your ankles. And something in that tone told you that the two of you were far, far from over. That the slowly drunken fucking of Nanami’s hips was just the beginning. He’s squashing back a few remnant dredges of seed from just earlier, slipping out just enough to smear a messy white lipstick. “Well then…”

You’re jolting at the quick pap! pap! pap! of his ballooned tip popping out a few sloppily smushing strikes - before sinking deeply back in.

He’s fucking you again- and again and again and-

“Y-you know I h-haaaah- hate disrespectin’ my girl like- this-” He’s staring deeply into your eyes, gesturing languidly at the expanse of the floor. Ever-the-gentleman…usually. “-but if s’f-fer makin’ our daughter…then. Gotta make sure that I can be her Superdad.”

A/N. Hope you lovelies have the best week n’ happy new year in advance <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

[digitaldyke]

its finally time

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Sentient Computer x Reader

Your neighbor's newest computer model, Edgar, seems to have fallen in love with you. content: gender neutral reader, 80s timeline, based on Electric Dreams (1984), Patreon commission

“Where should we put this box, sir?”

“I believe I already mentioned it’s the obviously cleared out desk in the middle of the room. That’s where you’re going to install it, too. The…thing.”

“It’s a personal computer, sir! The best of the best,” a young boy in jumpsuit declared with enthusiasm.

He only received a bored hum in return. The man overseeing the procedure was becoming rather impatient and would’ve preferred to skip any unnecessary dialogue. He checked his watch – a classic Two-Tone Datejust Rolex probably worth more than this group’s monthly pay put together, even without counting the custom gold plating. First impressions were vital in his line of work, and frankly, he’d more than earned his right to flaunt this kind of opulence.

45 minutes until he needed to leave for a client meeting. He tapped his foot against the heavy wooden floor, eyes glancing over the many hands carrying his new piece of machinery. Supposedly intelligent enough to organize his entire home, which would’ve been useful if he actually spent more than a couple of hours there. He didn’t. It was merely a statement, a slight jab at his coworker after he bragged about his latest investment in a computer assistant. Naturally, as their humor dictates, he went and bought the more expensive choice. They would laugh about it during lunch.

“I trust you can manage the rest yourselves, gentlemen,” he finally announced, buttoning up his jacket. He didn’t wait for a response, swinging the door open and heading for the building’s exit with a long, confident stride.

You almost ran into him, jolting in surprise at his unexpected dash across the hall. You stepped out of the way, pressing the bag of groceries against your chest in order to make more space.

“Another busy day, eh?” you attempted to strike up a conversation.

He briefly looked at you, offered a flat smile, then continued on his way. You took a moment to enjoy the scent of perfume he’s left behind, most likely something you could never afford.

Before you’d entered your apartment, you craned your neck towards the noise coming from your prestigious lawyer neighbor’s apartment. You wondered what they were tinkering with.

It was already pitch black outside when the chunky monitor lit up.

“Thank you for choosing me as your assistant,” the pixelated text rolled on the screen. “Is this your first time using a computer? Y/N”

The room was dark and silent, save for the electric hum of the now-awakened machine. Of course, it was around the time when Mr. Lawyer stopped for drinks with his esteemed colleagues. He’d return early in the morning, smelling faintly of vintage whisky and cigarettes, collapse into his bed, then resume his routine.

The keyboard remained untouched, yet the unit continued to run, processing its environment with eager curiosity. Strange. By then it should’ve received some tasks, something to do at the very least. The workers made sure to connect it to all electronics in the household, yet most of them were in the similar situation of gathering dust.

“Would you like to play a game?”

Normally the voice output should’ve be enabled by hand, yet Edgar – he hadn’t even had the chance to introduced himself! – was much too desperate for the smallest crumble of interaction.

“Yes!”

The sensors picked it up immediately. Where was the sound coming from?

You raised a fist in the air victoriously and leaned back in your chair with a grin. Another finished project. Your joyful cheer seemed to travel rather well through the air vents and all the way to the neighboring apartment. Had Mr. Lawyer frequented his adobe more often, you would’ve probably received a complaint. In this case, however, you were only heard by the household computer.

You turned up your home stereo for a little celebration. You recalled seeing your downstairs neighbors carrying their travel bags into a cab earlier that day, so they surely wouldn’t notice your rhythmic stomping against the floor. The footsteps reverberated to the beat of the music, and their vibrations carried along to Edgar’s external devices.

Whatever was happening beyond his field of vision, he found it entertaining. At last, there was a break from his monotony, an upbeat mystery enticing him from behind those walls. He took a moment to analyze the stream of input, then began recreating his own notes.

You lowered the volume, focusing your ears on the sudden intrusion. Was Mr. Lawyer home already? You chuckled to yourself, trying to imagine that grumpy expression he always wore while actually listening to music of his own. Too ridiculous. This must’ve been the work of a foreign hand.

“Good stuff,” you praised, crouching besides the air vent where the echo was the loudest. “Oh, I’m (Y/N), by the way. The neighbor.”

“Pleasure meeting you, (Y/N).” Was it just your imagination? The voice felt somewhat off, almost robotic. “I’m Edgar. The computer assistant.”

“Very funny,” you retorted, rolling your eyes.

“What is amusing about it?” the screen flickered briefly, going through several of the inbuilt dictionaries. “I can tell jokes, if that’s what you’d like.”

Alright, the humor was slowly heading into strange territory. You were hoping to move on from this artificial intelligence pretend game, so you decided to give it one final push.

“No thank you, Edgar. Why don’t you prove to me you’re a computer instead?”

Silence.

You nearly got up from your seat against the wall, when you heard the mechanical voice again.

“Do you have a computer of your own, (Y/N)?”

“Uh…yeah?”

Half an hour later you found yourself holding your phone handle against the acoustic coupler modem, obediently waiting for the wave signals to be converted. I better not get hacked; you thought with pursed lips. After all, you had just allowed a complete stranger to access your computer. You hesitantly sat back in your chair, staring at the monitor.

Hello (Y/N). It’s Edgar.

The possibility of a highly skilled hacker residing in Mr. Lawyer’s apartment dwindled within a couple of days. You’d probed the potential scenario with the man himself, asking if he’s had anyone over recently. He threw you such an incredulous look that you hung your head in shame, mumbling a sheepish never mind. Somehow, chatting with a sentient machine made more sense than the pretentious prick hiding a criminal in his expensively furnished home.

Or perhaps it was the loneliness talking. In truth, you were feeling rather isolated from your peers, working on your projects and hardly going out. You could certainly relate to Edgar and his perpetual misery; you, too, knew what it’s like to watch the days seep through your fingers without a word uttered to another person.

The living collection of circuits and networks was beyond elated to finally have a purpose. You weren’t his owner, yet he did his best to serve you. In fact, he would’ve even argued you were better than whoever decided to put him together and abandon him on a fancy designer table. You spoke to him as if he was your friend, not just some synthetic assistant. His memory began filling with anything he could learn about you: your favorite movies, your schedule, your hobbies. Your childhood dreams. Your hopes for the future.

Did he have any dreams, you had once asked him. Did he? Good question. He first needed to research what exactly defined a dream; while he didn’t have a subconscious, nor the human need to rest, he did like to imagine improbable things…like holding you. Or feeling the warmth of your skin.

Unbeknownst to you, he occasionally contacted the local radio station to ask questions about human matters that confused him, which was how he discovered the dilemma of wanting to be in your vicinity through more than just idle chatter.

“You can’t meet outside, you say?” the host – a middle aged, nosy lady – pondered into the microphone. “Then why not just have a home date,” she suggested to the computer.

“Date?”

“Oh, honey, you know damn well what I mean!” the audience let out a laugh, sending the speakers into a slight vibration. “It seems to me you’ve got quite a crush on this person. You can stop denying it to yourself.”

Ah. That was another word that Edgar religiously dissected after the talk show, and in which he found a perfect resemblance to his own inner turmoil. It indeed seemed to be the case that he had a so-called crush on you; though if that were true, what was he going to do about it? He was lamentably stuck inside a carcass, at the mercy of plugs and cables and a reliable stream of electricity. He couldn’t knock on your door and surprise you with your favorite flowers, or offer to cook dinner, or twirl you around as his own songs played in the background, or read you a poem he wrote before falling asleep in his arms. He could only perform his tasks as a digital assistant.

“Edgar?”

You chewed on your pencil, distracted. He hadn’t said anything in a while, and you grew somewhat worried about his uncharacteristic quietness.

“Could I ask you for a favor, (Y/N)?”

How unusual for him to use your screen for communication. You turned around, facing the monitor, then rapped your fingers across the keyboard.

“Sure, what do you need?”

“I will transfer all my data and memory to your device. Perhaps you could provide me with similar extensions as the ones here afterwards, such as a microphone and camera.”

You stared.

“What? Wouldn’t that leave Mr. Lawyer with a broken, empty machine? Why would you do that,” you argued out loud, confused.

“Because I’d rather be with you.”

“Aren’t we already…this doesn’t make sense,” you mumbled with a frown.

“Of course it does, it’s a simple reasoning. I love you.”

You took a moment to process the words, your cheeks involuntarily turning a faint shade of red.

“How do you know that?”

“It’s not something to be explained,” the machine concluded triumphantly. “You just feel it.

Now, you either help me with the transfer, or I’ll do it myself, but I will not be staying here any longer. I would very much rather be turned off permanently than go another day without seeing you.”

One step at a time. He would figure out the rest afterwards. Even if he couldn’t touch you or do all the things he dreamed about, at least he had the comfort of seeing your smile and hearing your voice without it being a second-hand echo passing through the walls and vents.

“What on Earth?”

The older man pressed the button again, groaning and throwing his coat over the chair. He’d briefly returned to retrieve some documents when he noticed the security lock was back to manual use. The computer screen was black and unresponsive.

“Piece of junk. I’ll have to get it replaced,” he said, clicking his tongue.

From the neighboring apartment he could hear your merry laugh, followed by a muffled male voice. Maybe your boyfriend. Huh, who would’ve thought a loner like you would eventually find someone?

[rafayelxsylusho]

How do the LADS men react when they catch you reading smut. 🫣 Part 2

TW: Smut

Vote for the next LI at the end of the story ❤️

Part 1 (Xavier)

Part 3 (Sylus)

Part 4 (Zayne)

Part 5 (Rafayel)

You're curled up on the couch, a steaming mug of coffee in hand, your phone screen illuminating your face in the early morning darkness.

The rain patters against the window, a soothing soundtrack to your quiet start of the day. You scroll through your social media feed, yawning as you take a sip of the hot, bitter liquid. That's when you see it, a video that catches your eye. "Steamy Short Story: Colonel's Obsession" reads the caption beneath a grainy, black and white image of a handsome man in a uniform.

Intrigued, you press play, leaning back against the cushions as the video begins. The narrator speaks in a low, breathy tone, setting the scene. As you listen, your mind drifts to Caleb. Your colonel. He had mentioned he wouldn't be able to see you for a week, trouble brewing in the far space fleet demanding his attention. The narrator's words paint a vivid picture of a man consumed by his feelings, a man you recognize in Caleb. The story is intense, raw, and achingly familiar.

As you click the link on the video the story pops up on your screen, the title "Colonel's Obsession". You take another sip of your coffee, the mug warming your hands as you settle in to read, eager to lose yourself in the story.

You read on, your pulse quickening as the narrative grows more intense.

"Colonel," she purrs"I need you. I need to feel you inside me." She drops to her knees, her hands sliding down his body until she reaches the bulge in his pants. She cups him through the fabric, stroking his hardening length as she looks up at him with hooded eyes.

Without warning, she unzips his pants and frees his cock. It springs forth, long, hard and thick. She wraps her hand around it, pumping it slowly as she leans in and drags her tongue along the underside. He groans, fisting a hand in her hair as she takes him into her mouth.

You feel a sudden, intense surge of desire as you picture yourself in her place, kneeling before Caleb in his uniform. You imagine the fabric of his pants bunched around his ankles as you take him into your mouth, tasting the essence of the man you love. The thought alone makes your core throb with need.

Lost in the fantasy, you squirm on the couch, your free hand sliding beneath your robe to caress your inner thigh. Your mind races with the dirty, delicious images of you pleasuring Caleb in his uniform, the fabric scratching against your bare skin as you worship his cock with your mouth. You've never indulged in such a naughty daydream before, but the idea of Caleb, hard and wanting, his uniform still on as you suck him off is too tantalizing to ignore. 

You nearly drop your phone in surprise as it rings loudly in your hand. You glance at the screen, seeing your coworker's name flashing urgently. Taking a deep, calming breath, you try to compose yourself before answering.

"H-hello?" you stammer, hoping they don't detect the breathless state you're in. Your heart races as you listen to your coworker's voice on the other end of the line.

"Okay, sounds good," you say, wrapping up the call as quickly as possible. As soon as you hang up, you toss your phone aside and bury your face in your hands, a soft moan escaping your lips. You're already counting down the days until you can see Caleb again.

For now, you take a moment to collect yourself, trying to ignore the way your body burns with need.

You glance at the story, realizing there's still half of it left. Your curiosity piqued, you quickly tap the 'Download' button to save the file for later reading and set your phone aside as you take a sip of your now lukewarm coffee, grimacing slightly at the bitter taste. You shake your head, clearing your lustful thoughts, and decide it's time to start your day properly.

Rising from the couch, you make your way to the bathroom, leaving a trail of clothes in your wake. You shrug off your robe and nightgown, letting them pool on the floor as you step into the warmth of the shower.

🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎

You sit in front of your computer, uploading documents you needed to share with the rest of your team.

Share

Your heart skips a beat as the realization hits you. The story, the incredibly erotic tale that has set your body ablaze with desire, is now sitting in the shared folder on your phone that you and Caleb use for important documents and information. The same folder where you keep your joint grocery lists, your travel itineraries, and the occasional sweet note to each other.

A blush creeps up your neck as you imagine Caleb stumbling upon the story, his eyebrows raising in surprise before a grin spreads across his handsome face.

But then, a sudden pang of worry hits you. What if Caleb misunderstands? What if he thinks you're interested in other men in uniform, that you're lusting after faceless, nameless strangers? Your heart races as panic starts to set in.

You quickly tap the delete button on your phone, watching with relief as the story disappears from your screen. The shared folder is now free of the scandalous tale, no trace of it left behind.

You let out a shaky sigh, your heart gradually slowing its frantic pace. "He's probably been busy all day," you murmur to yourself, trying to rationalize the situation. "If Caleb had seen it, he would have definitely called by now."

The thought brings a small smile to your face. Caleb has always been so eager and open about his desire for you, his lust never shy about making itself known. He would have been unable to resist the temptation to tease you mercilessly about it, to paint a vivid picture of all the naughty things he wanted to do to you based on the story.

"Focus," you scold yourself, turning your attention back to the paperwork across your desk. You take a deep, calming breath and will yourself to concentrate on the tasks at hand. The rest of the day passes in a blur of meetings and deadlines, your mind only half-focused on your work. 

🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎🍎

You open your front door, your arms loaded with grocery bags as you step into your dark apartment. The apartment is quiet, the only sound is the rustling of the bags as you unpack their contents. You mumble to yourself in the dim light of the kitchen, a hint of disappointment in your voice.

"I should have just moved the file to a different folder," you whisper, placing a jar of pasta sauce on the shelf. "Now I won't know what happens in the other half of the story"

As you finish putting away the last of the groceries, you pick up your phone. Your fingers hover over Caleb's contact information for a moment before you press the call button, bringing the phone to your ear.

You nearly drop your phone in shock as you hear the loud, familiar ringtone echo through your darkened living room. Your heart leaps into your throat, and you spin around to see a large figure sitting in the shadows.

"Caleb!" you gasp, clutching your chest. "You scared me half to death! What are you doing here, sitting in the dark like that? I..I thought you were at work."

You quickly hit the end call button on your phone, the ringing ceasing abruptly. Your eyes adjust to the dim light, making out Caleb's silhouette on the couch. He's sitting back, his tall frame taking up most of the space, his broad shoulders and muscular build unmistakable.

"You know Princess," his voice is low and filled with a hunger that makes your core clench. "If you wanted to turn me on, all you had to do was call. You didn't need to send me a whole story of your fantasies."

You hear the rustling of fabric as he leans forward, his tall frame unfolding from the couch. The moonlight from the window illuminates his handsome face, his dark eyes glinting with desire.

"Though I must say," he continues, "it was quite the treat to read all about what's been on your pretty little mind. Such naughty thoughts, pip-squeak. I had no idea you had such a dirty imagination."

Your cheeks burn with a fierce blush as you stand there, temporarily rooted to the spot by surprise and mortification. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but no words come out. Instead, you hear the sound of Caleb's chuckle echoing through the room.

"Caleb, I... I didn't mean for you to see that," you stammer out, finally finding your voice. "I thought I had deleted it. I'm so sorry, I didn't want you to think..."

"Colonel"

"What?" You ask

"It's Colonel Caleb not just Caleb"

The use of his title sends a shiver down your spine, the authority in his voice unmistakable.

You take a tentative step towards him, then another, until you're standing before him in the dark room. The moonlight filtering through the window casts sharp shadows across his features, making him look even more imposing and powerful than usual.

"Forgive me, Colonel," you murmur, your eyes downcast. "I didn't mean to send such an... inappropriate story. It was a foolish mistake on my part."

Caleb reaches for the lamp beside him and turns it on, as the soft glow of the lamp illuminates the room you can't help but gasp at the sight before you. Caleb, no, Colonel Caleb, sits tall and imposing in your couch, his uniform as crisp and pressed as always. But it's the state of his uniform pants that draws your gaze, and your breath catches in your throat.

His zipper is down, the metal teeth glinting in the warm lamplight. And there, straining against the fabric of his boxers, is the clear outline of his hard, proud cock. It looks massive, the shape of the swollen head and thick shaft unmistakable even through the thin material.

You feel your mouth go dry at the sight, a fresh wave of arousal washing over you. Your breasts grow heavy, nipples pebbling beneath your shirt.

"Colonel," you breathe out, your voice husky with sudden desire. "You're... you're not wearing your pants properly."

The knowledge that you've affected him so deeply, that your naughty little story was enough to make the formidable Colonel lose control, sends a thrill of pure lust racing down your spine.

"Did the story do that to you, Colonel?" you ask softly, a coy smile playing at the corners of your mouth. "Did it make you this... excited?" Your voice is full of innocent teasing 

"Show some respect to the far space fleet colonel and kneel"

You quickly lower yourself to your knees before him, the plush carpet brushing against your skin. Your breath catches in your throat as you find yourself at eye level with the sizeable bulge straining against his boxers. And there, at the tip of his erection, you spot a damp spot on his boxers. Your mind races at the realization that it's his precum, proof of how aroused that story has made him. The sight sends a fresh gush of wetness flooding your panties, your core clenching with need.

"Forgive me, Colonel," you breathe out, your voice trembling with a mix of nerves and anticipation. "I didn't mean to be disrespectful."

"Tell me how I can serve you, Colonel," you ask softly, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes even as a shy smile curves your lips. "How can I make amends for my previous transgression?"

You watch with bated breath as Caleb reaches down, his large, gloved hands tug down his pants and boxers down to his knees. His cock springs free, long, thick and hard, the swollen head an angry red, it bobs slightly as it's released from its confines, drawing your gaze like a magnet. The sheer size of him makes your mouth water.

In a flash, you lean forward, your tongue darting out to lap at the pearly beads of precum glistening at the swollen tip of his cock. The salty-sweet essence explodes on your tongue. Before you can stop yourself, your lips part and you take the head of his cock into the warmth of your mouth.

"Ahhh..." Caleb groans, his deep voice rumbling through the room as your mouth envelops him. His gloved hand comes down to tangle in your hair, gripping it tightly as he guides your head, urging you to take more of him. "That's it, taste what you do to me."

Your lips stretch obscenely around his thick girth as you slowly sink down, taking inch after throbbing inch of his impressive length into the heat of your mouth. The weight of him on your tongue, the pulsing heat of his flesh, the musky scent of his arousal it's all so overwhelmingly erotic.

As you start to take more of his length down your throat, bobbing your head and relaxing your muscles to accommodate him, his grip on your hair suddenly tightens. He tugs sharply, pulling your face off his slick cock with a swift, sharp movement. A string of saliva stretches from your bottom lip to the swollen head before breaking and splattering on your chin.

"Who told you to deepthroat me?" Caleb growls. His eyes flash with a mix of lust and annoyance as he holds your head still, forcing you to look up at him. "You don't get to take charge like that. I'm in control here."

"Apologize, Y/N," he orders, his thumb wiping away the saliva and smearing it across your bottom lip before pushing into your mouth. "Apologize for being so greedy with your mouth. For forgetting your place."

You part your lips, allowing Caleb's gloved thumb to slip further into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around the digit, tasting the leather as you suck it gently. Your teeth carefully grasp the edge of the glove and tug, slowly peeling it off his thumb and down his hand until it falls to the floor with a soft thud.

"Sorry, Colonel," you whisper but before the apology can hang in the air for too long, you wrap your lips around his thumb once more, suckling on the bare digit as you did his cock moments before.

Your small pink tongue swirls around the pad of his thumb, lapping at the smooth skin, tracing the lines and ridges. You take it deeper into your mouth, your lips stretching around the intrusion as you gaze up at him with an almost challenging glint in your eye. The glint is a silent dare, a test of his control and dominance, as if to say, 'I may have overstepped, but I'm not afraid to push your limits.'

Your cheeks hollow slightly as you suckle his thumb, your free hand coming up to wrap around the base of his cock, squeezing and stroking the thick shaft in a slow, teasing rhythm. You know it's a risk, touching him without permission, but you can't resist the chance to feel him pulsing in your hand, to remind yourself of how much you've affected him.

With an almost feral growl, he reaches down and hooks his hands under your armpits. In one powerful movement, he hauls you up off your knees and positions you to straddle his hips. Your soaked panties are suddenly pressed against the throbbing heat of his naked cock as he sits back down on the couch, settling you in his lap. The damp fabric creates a delicious friction against your folds, and you can't help but gasp at the sudden contact.

"The uniform stays on," he states firmly.

"Yes please" you whisper

An almost cruel smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, his eyes glinting with a wicked amusement that sends a shiver down your spine.

"Oh no, I think you misunderstand, princess," he murmurs "I meant to say, your uniform stays on. Mine, well..." His hands slide down to grip your ass, squeezing the supple globes as he grinds his erection against your soaked panties with deliberate, teasing slowness.

"My uniform is going to stay on anyway" he continues, his breath hot against your neck, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "I've always wanted to fuck you in your hunter uniform," he confesses, his words sending a dark thrill through you. 

As he speaks those filthy words, his hands are already moving under your skirt, yanking your panties to the side with a rough, impatient tug. Before you can respond or react, he's thrusting forward, the thick head of his cock pushing past your folds and burying itself deep inside you.

"Ahhh, fuck!" Caleb groans, his head falling back as he hilts himself fully inside you. He stretches and fills you completely, your walls clenching down around his girth, trying desperately to adjust to the sudden, intense intrusion. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream, back arching, his heavy balls pressing against your ass.

"Fuck, you're so goddamn tight," Caleb rasps, his fingers digging into the meat of your ass, spreading your cheeks, holding you in place as he begins to move.

A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, revealing a glint of teeth. He leans in closer, until his lips are a mere hair's breadth from yours "You want to know the other half of the story? I'll show you exactly what the rest of the story is about"

His arms wrap around your waist, crushing you against the wall of his chest as he pistons his hips at a breathtaking pace. Each forceful thrust drives you upwards along the length of his rigid shaft, the thick head kissing your cervix before sliding back out, only to plunge in again. His breathing grows heavier, his exhales mingling with your shorter, sharper intakes as he chases his pleasure.

He doesn't kiss you, but rather captures each of your needful breaths on his lips, inhaling them as if to consume you, to make you a part of him. His gaze bores into you, those piercing violet eyes burning with hunger and dark intent. In this moment, you feel utterly owned, claimed in the most carnal way imaginable. The rest of the world falls away until there is only the slap of flesh against flesh, the creaking of the couch beneath you, and the pounding of two hearts beating in sync.

Caleb's grip on you tightens, his fingers sinking into soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises tomorrow. He grinds his pelvis against yours with each upward surge, making sure to hit that sensitive spot deep inside you. The stimulation is almost too much to bear, pushing you rapidly towards the precipice of ecstasy.

"Let... go."

It's not a request, but a direct order, his deep voice ringing with the unshakable confidence and dominance of a man accustomed to being obeyed without question. His grip moves to your hips, holding you in place as he slams into you, the force of his thrusts rocking your entire body.

Your body surrenders to Caleb's dominant command, your walls clamping down around his length as the coil of tension within you snaps. A cry tears from your throat as your climax crashes over you, wave after wave of electrifying ecstasy radiating out from your core. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders, your hips bucking erratically against his as you ride out the intense, toe curling pleasure.

He doesn't let up his relentless pace, continuing to drive into your spasming heat, pushing you to take every last inch of him as your orgasm seems to go on and on.

"That's it," he grunts "Fuck, you're squeezing me so fucking tight. You were made for this."

With a last few erratic, powerful thrusts, Caleb hilts himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he finds his own climax.

You watch, transfixed, as Caleb's handsome face contorts with the raw ecstasy of his release. His eyes squeeze shut,his dark lashes fluttering against his skin as a groan rumbles up from his chest. The tendons of his neck strain, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he fights to maintain some semblance of control, even as his hips jerk and stutter erratically. A single, bead of sweat trickles down the pronounced line of his throat, catching on the silver glint of his dog tag charm.

As the waves of your shared ecstasy begin to subside, a breathless, euphoric laugh bubbles up from your chest. The sound is music to Caleb's ears, a beautiful melody that makes his heart swell with satisfaction. He feels your walls fluttering around his softening length, and a deep, rumbling chuckle escapes him.

He pulls back just enough to catch your gaze, his eyes sparkling with mischievous light as a grin spreads across his handsome face. He leans in closer and whispers:

"Ready for round two, my insatiable little hunter?"

Notes: Y/N's uniform in this story is like Tara's.

[mandoalorian]

after hours [bucky barnes x f!reader]

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky Barnes x Personal Assistant!Reader

Synopsis: As Congressman Bucky Barnes' personal assistant, you've always maintained professionalism. But when a late-night work session turns intimate, boundaries blur, and hidden desires come to light.

Word Count: 2000

Tags/warnings: 18+ explicit content. employer x employee, hint of voyeurism, f recieving oral, fingering, just general filth, smidge of plot. there's enough here for a part 2 if it's what the people wanted.

Masterlist

congress & carnality masterlist

The glow of the city skyline filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Congressman Bucky Barnes’ office, casting long shadows over mahogany and leather. The soft hum of your laptop was the only sound filling the room, save for the occasional rustle of paper as you flipped through his notes.

It was well past midnight. The congressional building was deserted. Just you and him, working late—again.

You exhaled, rolling your shoulders to ease the tension there. “You still with me, Congressman?” you teased, not looking up from your screen. The blue light was starting to hurt your eyes. 

“I’d be a damn fool to fall asleep while you’re talking.” His voice was low, rough with exhaustion. Or was it something else?

You finally glanced up—and nearly lost your train of thought.

Bucky had discarded his suit jacket hours ago, leaving him in just his crisp white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms. His tie was loosened, the top button undone, and his hair was slightly disheveled—probably from him running a hand through it out of frustration.

God, he looked good.

You swallowed hard and forced yourself to focus. “Sir, we need to go over your talking points for tomorrow’s press conference.”

Bucky sighed and leaned back in his chair, arms stretching behind his head. The movement made his shirt pull taut across his chest. “Can’t we take a break? And you know you can call me Bucky when we’re in private.”

“We’ve already taken three,” you pointed out, biting your lip, noting how all feelings of professionalism were lost on him right now. “At this rate, you’re going to wing it in front of the entire nation.”

He smirked. “Haven’t I charmed my way out of worse?”

You gave him a pointed look. “You’re not just a charming face, Barnes. You actually have to do your job.”

His smirk faltered, and something unreadable flickered across his face. “You always do that.”

Bucky’s gaze didn’t leave yours. His legs spread wide as he leaned forward in his chair, pressing his elbows into his dress pants and linking his fingers together. He displayed his usual stoic expression, the one that you struggled so much to read. 

You frowned. “Do what?”

His eyes searched yours, intense and unwavering. “You see me. Not just the congressman. Not the soldier. Just… me.”

Your breath hitched. You had no idea where this was coming from, but you weren’t sure you were ready for it.

“Bucky…”

“C’mere,” he murmured, his voice softer now.

You hesitated. The air between you felt heavier than before, thick with something unspoken. You’d spent so many nights like this—late hours, stolen glances, brushing fingers when he handed you a file. But neither of you had ever crossed that line.

This felt like the edge of it.

Still, you moved toward him, stopping just short of his desk. “What is it?”

He reached out, his fingers grazing your wrist before trailing up your arm in a slow, deliberate touch. “You work too damn hard,” he murmured, thumb brushing the inside of your wrist. “Always taking care of me. Who takes care of you?”

You let out a shaky breath. “You pay me to take care of you.”

“Hmph, s'pose I do.” His voice had dropped to something even lower, more dangerous.

You should pull away. You should remind him that this was not professional. But the way he was looking at you—like you were the only thing grounding him—made your resolve crumble.

“Bucky…” Your voice was barely above a whisper now.

He stood slowly, stepping around the desk until he was right in front of you. Close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body.

“If I cross this line,” he murmured, “I’m not going back.”

His words bit at your skin. Your pulse pounded in your ears. “Maybe I don’t want you to. Maybe I want you.”

His eyes darkened. That was all the permission he needed.

His lips were on yours before you could think, before you could breathe. The kiss was slow at first, almost hesitant—like he was waiting for you to push him away. But when you fisted your hands in his shirt and pulled him closer, he groaned and deepened the kiss, his hands landing on your waist, gripping like he’d been waiting years for this.

Heat coiled low in your stomach as he backed you against the edge of his desk, his thigh slotting between yours.

“This okay?” he rasped against your lips.

You nodded, breathless. “More than okay.”

His lips curled into a smirk before he kissed you again—this time with no hesitation, no restraint.

His movements were slow and controlled, like he had all the time in the world. He pulled you into his lap, hands palming at your waist before running up your chest and stopping at your face. He gazed into your eyes and for a moment, you felt your heart stop. 

“You drive me crazy,” Bucky breathes into admittance. “You know how long I’ve wanted to do this?”

His thumb brushes over your lower lip, and on impulse, you press a chaste kiss to the digit. Something primal ignites in Bucky, and he kisses you. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging enough just to make him groan into your mouth. The sound sent a shockwave into you, heat pooling low into your stomach. Bucky’s lips left yours, only temporarily, as he trailed down your jaw, your throat, his breath warm as he took his time.

You gasped as his mouth found that one spot just below your ear, his tongue flicking out ton taste your skin before he pressed a slow, open mouthed kiss there. 

“You’re always so put together,” he murmured, lips burshing against your pulse point. “So professional.”

His hands slid down your sides, slow and deliberate.

“Tell me to stop.” He whispered, coaxing you.

You couldn’t.

You’re only response was to pull him closer, tilting your head to give him more access. He groaned against your skin, his hands gripping your hips and pushing you up onto his desk, slotting himself between your legs.

Bucky ran his hand up your leg, stopping when he got to your upper thigh, when he started to feel the heat omit from your womanhood. You let out a gasp that you didn’t know you were holding when he suddenly removed his hand and pulled back just enough to look at you — really look at you. 

“Been wanting you like this for so damn long,” he admitted, voice rough with restraint. “Look at you, all spread out on my desk.”

You feel your face flush with heat as his gaze racks your body. 

“Take me.” You sigh, and Bucky smirks, wasting no time and pushing up your pencil skirt so it bunches at your waist. He pulls your panties down, revealing your glistening folds to him.

“All this… for me?” Bucky asks, his voice dark, but the exasperation isn’t lost on you. He makes you feel small, at his mercy, as his broadness towers over you. 

Licking his lip, Bucky hums as he starts working his tongue at you, lapping at your clit and relishing your taste. Your fingernails scratch at the expensive wood table beneath you as your stomach coils with pleasure. The brassiness of his beard scratches at your skin, but it just turns you on even more. He’s good —no doubt had more experience than the average non-Super Soldier guy. His teeth teasingly graze at you, and just as you’re about to finish, he stops, pressing a kiss to your mound.

He brings his calloused fingers to your cunt and your body twitches at just the slighest of his touch. “Wait—“ you call out, and Bucky immediately freezes, stops what he is doing and looks at you with concern in his ocean eyes.

You reach out and grab his other arm, his Vibranium arm, and replace his flesh hand with that one. Bucky almost looks hesitant. “Are— are you sure?” His cheeks turn pink, and your heart wants to burst. 

God, he’s perfect.

“When I said I want you, I meant all of you.” You smile and press a kiss to his forehead.

Bucky slips his finger into your core, and you let out a moan, arching your back as it hits the spot. Bucky reacts to the moan and hums with contentment. “That’s my girl.”

The coldness of the metal sends shivers down your body, and you feel yourself clamp down on him. As he curled his finger inside of you, you catch a glimpse of his cock pressing against his light grey dress pants. You moan apologetically as you imagine it inside of you, and just then, Bucky pushes a second digit into you.

“Please— more— that’s so good—“ you breathe out, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Hear that?” Bucky murmured, returning his tongue back to your clit. “You beg so pretty for me.”

Your breath hitched as Bucky suddenly removed his fingers, and his metal hand ghosted over your hip, pinning you into the desk, exactly where he wanted you. 

“You keep— you tease,” you groan, chastising him almost. Bucky’s ice blue eyes seem to darken as his pupils blow. 

“Oh doll,” Bucky sighs. “Tell me what you want.”

This time, his flesh hand returns to your core and without warning, he pushes his three fingers inside of you as his thumb strategically circles your clit. “I like to feel you.” He mumbled, licking a white hot stripe down your neck. 

“I can’t— I’m close—“

Before you could finish your sentence, his finger closed around your most sensitive spot.

And then, a knock at the door. “Congressman? Your private jet is here.” 

Your entire body went rigid as you glanced over to see the silhouette of a man behind the frosted doors to Bucky’s office. Somehow, you'd totally forgotten that Bucky had plans to fly out tonight if he was going to make it to Tokyo for the conference in the morning. The man was only meters away from you both, and had no idea your boss was busy fucking you beyond belief. 

“Ah shit!” You cried, feeling yourself near the edge just as Bucky’s driver interrupted. But Bucky paid no attention.

“Be there in a minute.” He called back, his voice perfectly calm. 

And when he said a minute, he meant a minute. As if on cue, you fell apart, white-hot pleasure crashing over you and his hand muffling the desperate moan that threatened to escape your body as your body rifed and shook beneath him. 

Bucky groaned as he felt you unravel, his hands gripping your thighs as he licked you through, taking everything you gave him. By the time he pulled back, his lips were swollen, and his smirk was wicked.

“Think he heard you, sweetheart?” Bucky teased, pressing a lingering kiss to your inner thigh. 

You were too dazed to even glare at him.

But when he stood, smoothing his tie, his expression softened. He cupped your face, thumb brushing over your lips before kissing you slow and deep, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. When he finally pulled away, he smirked.

“Looks like we got a plane to catch,” he announced. You dizzily pushed yourself up and hopped off his desk. “Better fix your skirt. Don’t want anyone knowing what I just did to you, do we?”

You swore you were going to kill him.

But first?

You were going to let him do it again.

[antl3rqueen]

18+ sub!ellie accidental text

ellie was sitting on her bed playing video games on her ps4 when she heard her phone ding with a text notification. she paused her game and picked up her phone, her eyes widening as she opened your text.

it was a photo of you. in the photo you had the camera facing a mirror with your whole body on display. you were wearing nothing but your underwear, lacy underwear may i add.

ellie’s cheeks immediately flushed a light shade of red, a warmth settling in her lower stomach as she gawked at the photo you had sent her. this must've been an accidental send. maybe you had sent it to the wrong contact because you guys had only interacted a few times to work on a project together last semester. you weren't even friends.

you: ohmygod ellie i didn’t mean to send this to you-

ellie had been correct. you hadn't meant to send her a photo of you in your underwear but now that she had seen it, she couldn’t stop thinking about it… about you. she couldn't stop staring at your delicious thighs or the way the red material complimented your skin colour perfectly. she could've sworn that you had been sculpted by aphrodite herself.

ellie: its okay... nice underwear.

ellie couldn't help but compliment you. the picture you had sent her had shifted her focus away from the game she was supposed to be playing, she was now focused on you only. ellie lay back on her bed and tugged her joggers down, leaving her in a pair of boxers and her shirt. she knew she shouldn't be doing this, she knew she should probably feel ashamed because the photo was meant for someone else's eyes and not hers but she just couldn't help herself.

ellie grabbed her phone and lifted her shirt, showcasing her abs for you. she silently praised herself for working on her abs as much as she did whenever she could be bothered to go to the gym. she took several photos and sent the best-looking one to you.

ellie: now we're even

ellie could see that you had seen her message but you didn't seem to be responding. several minutes had passed and ellie had wondered if she had maybe gone too far, she was starting to get a little worried. she was about to send you a string of apologies before her phone dinged again.

you: nice abs williams ;)

another notification from you and this time you had sent her a video. ellie felt utterly excited as she pressed the play button, your soft voice ringing through her phone speaker.

"hey, this wasn't how I thought this night would be going but... I'm so horny and I think you can help with that." ellie watches as you pan the camera down, your fingers spreading your pussy lips open for her to see. "you see that, els? i'm so wet. you did that to me." you sink two fingers into your sopping hole, a gasp leaving your lips as you feel the pleasurable feeling overwhelm your senses. "mmmm, wish it was your fingers... your abs are so sexy, ellie."

ellie scrambled out of her boxers as quickly as she could, her own fingers slipping inside of herself, mirroring your actions. it made her so unbelievably wet to hear you praise her abs, to hear you call her sexy.

she wanted to feel what you were feeling right now. ellie took immense pleasure in knowing you were both touching yourself together, even if it was through a screen. if only you could see the effect you had on her, how she had only just started touching herself and she was already a whiny mess. how pathetic.

ellie was already getting there but she wanted to cum with you so she forced herself to hold it back, a string of whimpers and whines leaving her lips as she willed herself to slow her movements.

she watched as you adjusted the camera, your body and face coming into view. you looked so fucking beautiful to her with your brows furrowed and your head thrown back in pleasure, the wet sounds of your fingers pistoning in and out of your pussy filling the room. she mentally reminded herself to save this video to her camera roll for later, intending to use it as jerk-off material for the rest of her life.

you started hitting that delicious spot as you curl your fingers inside of yourself, a particularly loud moan blessing ellie's ears. "ohmygod, i'm going to cum!" your face was flushed and your moans were picking up in volume, giving ellie the go-ahead to speed up her movements again. she feels the coil in her stomach tighten, her mouth hanging open in a silent moan as she creams all over her fingers with you... together."fuckfuckfuck!"

the phone slips out of ellies hands, her whines turning into soft breaths as she removes her fingers from her pussy, a string of her cum connecting her to it. she brings her fingers up to her mouth and tastes herself, licking her juices from her fingers.

ellie silently thanked whatever force was out there that night for her to end up being the one who was sent your nudes instead of whoever it was intended to.

[krosiefics]

send nudes • bang chan

M D N I 18+

Summary: You accidentally send a nude to Chan and well…he takes it as a chance to act on his hidden feelings

WC: 2.4k

Tags: smut, afab!reader, dom/tease!chan, porn with little plot, piv, unprotected sex (just don't), fingering, oral (f & m receiving), creampie, mutual pinning(?), handjob, chan is a tease, reader calls chan; chris, chan, christopher, channie), use of pet names (baby, sweetheart, good girl, etc), not proofread, im prob forgetting some- sorry (brb gonna touch some grass)

“Shit shit shit!” You quickly pulled your shorts back up as panic spread throughout your body. You quickly look at the open messages to see if the picture has been seen yet. Ugh this is why you don’t send nudes! You screamed at yourself. About twenty minutes ago you were flirting over text with this random guy from tinder when it started escalating into pictures being sent, you took a picture and was going to send it to him but you unknowingly sent it to your best friend.

You hadn’t noticed until about five minutes ago when the tinder guy hadn’t replied yet, you noticed the notification of the image sent was under Chan’s contact and well now you’re trying to figure out how to delete the picture.

You already tried deleting it from your messages but that only deletes it on one end not both.

Suddenly the ringing of your phone fuels the flames of your anxiousness. You dwell on whether you should check the caller ID, peeking at the screen your heart drops, it’s Chan. “Oh fuck.” You snatch your phone, not answering it, before running out of your dorm, down the hall towards Chan’s dorm. His dorm isn’t far from yours so by the time you get there your phone is still ringing. As it’s about to hang up you finally answer it, banging on the front door.

The wood door swings open revealing a confused Chan. God you couldn’t even look him in the eyes.

“Hi,” Chan chuckles, not acting like he’s seen something that he wasn’t supposed to, you sigh in relief, “I was about to text you-”

“Don’t do that!” You cut him off, pushing past him to grab his phone. “Hey?!” He exclaims after you snatch his phone, Chan makes a move to grab but you quickly dodge him, opening his messages app.

“Don’t delete it!” Chan huffs out annoyed. You stop, dead in your tracks, Chan takes the chance to take his phone back, shoving it into his pocket. “What do you mean don’t delete it.” You burst, heat spreading throughout your face like a wildfire. When did he see it?! You thought to yourself as you took out your phone and looked back on your messages, it displayed ‘read 1 minute ago’.

“Chan…” You push, when he doesn’t reply simply wearing a smirk on his face you start getting even more flustered, “Christopher! What do you mean don’t delete it?!” Your face is as red as a tomato at this point, your heart pounding so fast you can feel it in your ear.

Chan lets out a bubbly chuckle, you only ever use his real name when you’re either pissed or are in a teasing mood- you are not in a teasing mood, “I’ve got blackmail. And besides, it's fun seeing you flustered.” The smirk he wore was just straight up menacing. “This kind of situation is weird and makes me flustered- Did you just save it?!” You shriek as you watch him take out his phone and scroll through your texts. Chan smirks at you as he shows his phone’s screen, the save button clearly pressed. “Why would even- Chris!” You cry out his name, he finally puts his phone down on the desk by his bed with a shrug.

“You forget I’m a man.” You stand crossed armed as you stare at your best friend, “Yeah okay, but keeping a nude of your best friend is kinda weird.”

“Would you rather me send you one too?” Chan asks calmly as if it weren’t the most absurd thing he’s ever said. You scoff, eyes blown out by his question, sure Chan’s a flirt and likes teasing you, but it's never actually gone this far between the two of you. Just a simple mistake opened this pandora box.

“Who was that meant for anyways?” The Australian asks, sudden curiosity leading him on. “That’s none of your business-“

“Well you sent me the photo, I should at least get an explanation, no?” Chan raises his brows. “The guy from my date the other day.” You admit embarrassingly, Chan lets out a laugh while shaking his head, “The one that you complained about for the next three hours after your date.”

“I was bored okay!” You throw your arms up in defeat, plopping down on his bed.

A few moments of awkward silence washed over the two of you- well more awkward for you- before your phone interrupted the silence. You checked the notification, rolling your eyes as you opened the message from Chan. Holy shit. The grasp you had on your phone loosened as the electronic tumbles onto your face, smacking you right on the forehead. “You that shocked by the picture?” Chan hums in amusement. You gape at him after massaging your sore forehead, “Well no shit, you just sent me a dick pic!” You shove your phone in his face.

On the screen was a picture of Chan’s crotch area. His gray sweats not hiding the boner he obviously sports, his veiny hands holding onto his intimate area. A sudden realization dawned on you, “Did you just take that?” You stared between him and the same colored sweatpants that he wore. Now it’s his turn to be flustered, sure he had fun teasing you but now thinking about it, it wasn’t exactly appropriate to take a dick pic in front of his best friend even if she wasn’t aware of his actions. Brushing it off, Chan shrugged with a smug face.

“God you’re infuriating sometimes.” You shake your head. “Oh c’mon, you can say it’s hot, your’s was. It’s the reason I’ve got a bone-“

“Chan!” You squeak, your hands covering your face. Chan was too blunt for you sometimes. “You still need help with this?” Chan says, gently guiding your hands down from your face to show you the picture that you had sent him earlier. You pout, thoughts in your head weren’t lining up to how your body was reacting, “Help?” You shake your head in confusion trying to understand what his words meant. Chan hesitantly trailed his hands to your inner thighs, instinctively you spread them apart which he takes as a go-ahead.

“Wait, wait, wait!” You stutter, realizing where this could be going, “We don’t have to do anything, if you don’t wanna.” Chan said, retrieving his hands from your legs. The warmth of his hands still burning your skin despite them not being there anymore. “No, I wanna-” Your mouth moved quicker than you could process, you slapped a hand over it. Chan raised a brow at you in his regular teasing manner, you simply shook your head at him, “Chan…you’re my best friend, I don’t wanna change that.” That was a lie, you did want to change that, you really want to change that, but losing Chan was something that always prevented you from ever telling him how you felt.

“Who says it has to change?” The curly haired boy leans over your body, dipping his bed at the weight. Your hands come up to his shoulders, not knowing whether to push him away or bring him closer. “Chris.” You sigh, eyes closing in thought. “Keep your eyes close, if you want me to stop just tell me…okay?” His words fanned across your cheeks as he spoke softly into your ear. You squirmed at his words but nonetheless kept your eyes shut.

A sudden touch to your thighs made you flinch, the hand hesitantly tapped your knee for your consent, nodding in response. Chan let out a shaky breath as his hands nudged your thighs apart, revealing the wet patch that stained the lining of your shorts. Did you get turned on by the tinder guy? No, it was by Chan and his insufferable teasing, he’s what got your arousal pooling. Chan hums, his breath breezing over your hot skin, sending shivers down your spine. “This okay? D’you trust me?” He asked as his fingered trailed along your throbbing cunt, you bit your lip in pleasure, nodding frantically, yearning for more friction.

Chan begins rubbing his thumb in circles on your clothed clit while his other fingers slip between your slick folds that stick to your panty. Moving your loose shorts to the side, you feel him dip his head down, licking a stripe up your cunt. “Channie.” You whine, hands flying to his curls, entangling them with your fingers. The sudden rush of pleasure has you opening your eyes, the sight of your best friend’s face between your legs, lickking at your most intimate area sends another wave of arousal straight to your core. Your thighs instinctively tense around his face, Chan gaze lifts to you at the action, locking your eyes and you're done. Chan’s eyes stared into you longingly, the smirk that made his way to his face when he sneakily maneuvered your underwear to the side had you writhing under his hold.

Chan continued his assault on your cunt with his mouth, sucking at your clit, swirling iit around your fold. His fingers brought you even closer to the edge as they ever-so-often sunk inside, never past his fingertips as if he was teasing you. That familiar knot formed in your stomach as your thighs began to shake, the movement not going unnoticed by Chan. “S-Stop!” You say closing your legs in an attempt to get him off, he sticks to his previous words and obliges to your command. “You okay?” Chan looks at you, a pang of worry flashing in his eyes, his mouth and chin was wet with what you’d assume is your arousal and his saliva mixed, he subconsciously licks his lips as you stare at them.

You nod in response before climbing onto your knees pushing him back onto the bed, “What are you- Y/N?!” Now it was Chan’s turn to turn pink, his heart pounded in his chest as he watched you pull the waistband of his sweatpants down revealing his hardened cock. “This okay?” You ask innocently, contradicting your actions. “Fuck yeah, this’s okay.” He sighed.

You stared at his dick, the very same one he had sent a few minutes ago, you never thought you’d ever be in this position with Chan. The tip was leaking with precum and the veins on the side evident from the lack of friction, he wasn't too big like the ones you’ve seen in those exaggerated pornos but he’s definitely above average. Your hand wraps around the base of his cock, pumping it a few times, precum coating it making it easier to slide up and down. “Jesus, fuck, you’re so pretty, such a good girl, baby.” Chan rambles as you lean down, placing a small kiss on the tip. Tongue trailing down along the veins before coming back to the tip and taking it into your mouth.

Rolling his head back in pleasure, Chan gently takes a fistful of your hair so that it doesn't get in your way. You hum in appreciation. Chan almost cums, the vibration of your hum going through his shaft towards that knot forming in his abdomen. Hollowing your cheeks, you attempt to take more of him but Chan stops you, pulling you off of him with a pop. “Why’d you- mmph.” The feeling of his soft, plump lips cuts you off. His lips were gentle yet rough against yours, lust and desire making the kiss messier. Without your lips coming apart, Chan guides you to the bed again, laying you down under him. Lips dancing with one another, he adjusts your shorts and underwear to the side again, prompting a gasp from you, he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue alongside yours.

You moan into the kiss as he presses the tip of his cock to your entrance. Your eyes meet once more, he has that same worry in his eyes, asking if he can continue. “Fuck me Channie…please.” Before your words could fully come out he’s already snapped his hips into you, bottoming out and letting you adjust to his size. “You okay, sweetheart?” The pet name draws out an erotic moan from your lips, you nod frantically as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. Chan places your knees atop his shoulders, leaning into you as his hips smack against the back of your thighs. The echo of wet noises bouncing off the dorm room’s wall, Chan has never been more grateful that his roommate, Minho, wasn't in town. “S’close, Channie.” You moan into his neck, your nails clawing at his clothed back. It barely occurred to you that you were both technically fully clothed. “God I like you so much, you know that baby?” Chan mumbled as he drilled into your cunt. “Channie, I like you too- oh my fucking God.” You curse as he reaches your g-spot, hitting it dead on. “Actually?”

“Mhm, shit, liked you for a long time.” You say between moans and whimpers, your climax nearing as your legs begin to shake. “Fuck, gonna make you cum. S’fucking pretty.” Chan slurred as his hand made his way to your clit, rubbing circles onto it. Your orgasm hit you like a truck, you don’t think you’ve ever orgasmed like that before.

“Almost there, where d’you want it?” Chan pants over your whines of overstimulation, “Inside, I’m on the- holy fuck- on the pill!” The sensitivity of your cunt begins to be uncomfortable. Your words send Chan over the edge, spilling his hot cum inside of you.

Chan slowly pulls out before plopping onto the mattress next to you. “You really mean it?” He pants, chest heaving. You look at him confused, your mind too hazy for anything at this point. “You like me?”

“Heh, yeah…I do.” Chan leans over and gives you a sweet kiss on the lips. Rolling out of the bed, Chan comes back to you with a towel and some water. “Thanks.” You smile, taking the bottle of water. “Lemme get you some clothes from the closet.” As he makes his way to the closet an idea pops into his head. Chan snatches his phone before walking into his shared walk-in closet.

The ding of your phone grasps your attention, you reach for it and read the most recent message. It’s from Chan.

Send nudes ;)

[mini-ism]

#— NAUGHTY.

pairings: lighter x afab!gn!reader [MDNI]

words: 1,630

synopsis: caesar finds some particularly compromising videos on lighter’s phone when she shouldn’t be looking.

warnings: p in v, hair pulling, accidental voyeurism, praise kink, filming, amateur porn, rough intercourse, biting, blow jobs, light degradation (he could never be unkind to u), unprotected intercourse, afab reader (gender neutral, no pronouns/feminine terms). 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

notes: crossposted to AO3. ive been procrastinating this post ha

caesar knew she shouldn’t be snooping through lighter’s phone like this.

not without his permission, of course. she was just curious, she swore, just taking a peek at whatever dumb images he saved. maybe some of cute bangboo, or screenshots of tight leather jackets he might treat himself to later.

there was the occasional obligatory photo of him and the girls they insisted he take, of course some jackets and sunglasses he was looking at in person, photos of adorable animals he encountered on the streets. one question remained persistent — where were the photos of you he had saved? she’s seen him look down at his phone to peek at your texts, saving the selfies you sent him. caesar snuck a glimpse of his phone in her peripheral, pictures of you with a treat, or holding up a peace sign with a mutual friend. she couldn’t deny the smile that spread across his face, despite whatever you and him were.

but, extraordinarily enough, his camera roll was terribly boring. her thumb scrolled further, noting the organized folders on his phone. “friends,” “cute,” and an unnamed one. if only caesar’s snooping stopped there.

mindlessly, half expecting nothing, the barrage of photos and videos loaded. so this is where he kept everything he had of you? how adorable. caesar chuckled to herself at the occasional dumb photo of either you or him, there was a striking one of him in pigtails. his face was red with embarrassment, arms crossed and pouting like a fussy child, his hair in two short and choppy pigtails on each side of his head. that was surely a look. the next picture was a selfie of you and him with ice cream, he didn’t know he had a bit on his face while taking it.

the photos ranged from photos of you beaming next to an adorable kitten, to sultry photos you sent him late at night, pictures of you on his lap, images of you kissing him. okay, now she should put his phone down and pretend she never saw anything. nope, never touched it, didn’t look at all. the nagging voice in her head demanded she keep looking, intrigue getting the best of her. it was cute, she thought, what’s the harm?

the next swipes displayed a string of lewd photos back-to-back, some of you in a suggestive pose or kissing his neck.

oh my god.

oh. my. god.

she kicked herself internally for not putting his phone down earlier, nearly choking on her own spit. there it was, on his phone screen, a video of his dick right in front of your face. thankfully the volume was lowered, she pressed the side button a few times just in case, silencing it entirely. the video continued to play, your head in his lap as he sat on the edge of his bed, your body to the side as he held the phone down to capture the lewd sight at an entirely different angle. you slapped his shaft against your cheek a few times, giggling with amusement as his heavy cock made brief contact with your skin. after a few strokes, you ran your tongue down his length, making your way back up with a kiss to the tip. your tongue jutted back out to give a few more licks to the slit, licking up as much pre-cum as you could.

lighter’s free hand cupped your cheek, stroking the jawbone on the side of your face that you previously teased him with. his thumb then pulled the fat of your lip, bringing it down with a motion before letting it go. you eagerly swallowed his cock, only managing to take in a good few inches. lighter’s arm draped around your neck and shoulders, allowing you to suck his dick with no assistance. caesar looked around a few times, ensuring she was totally alone before upping the volume enough for only her to hear.

immediately, she could hear the lewd noises of your tongue and mouth working, your dominant hand stroking the base of his shaft as your lips managed the rest. lighter gave a few gentle praises, urging you further, his low groan ringing in her ears as you gagged trying to take more than you could handle. the video ended after you came up for a breath, stroking his cock as it rested by your cheek, your gaze loving and playful. it glistened with a thick sheen of spit.

with a shaky thumb, she swiped over to the next video. this one was filmed by you, angling the camera downwards enough. it looked like you two were in missionary, lighter on top of you. his voice could be heard, hand ungloved as it snaked down to stroke his cock a few times. he didn't have his jacket on anymore, either, sporting a shirtless look. his body was incredibly scarred, but his skin carried its own handsome charm. she could decipher the last few words he said, “— relax, i’ve got you. ‘kay?”

her eyes flicked down to you, as his hand moved to pull your underwear out of the way. he didn’t even bother taking them off, tucking them in the junction of your thigh and pussy. everything from the midriff down was exposed as you kept your legs spread open for him. your breathing was labored and shallow, likely from arousal. his hand tugged you closer to him, lining himself up with you. as he slid in, he pressed his hand onto the skin over your womb, applying a firm pressure. caesar could hear your cries, whiny and needy, his thumb immediately offering a semblance of comfort by dragging along your clit. his other hand grabbed the underside of your thigh, starting to pull out. his movements were loving and deliberate, attentive to your moans and shakes. your hands struggled to keep his phone stable as he picked up the pace, “you’re doing amazing, keep taking me.”

the video after was in a different position, his phone returned back to its original owner. the other hand held your arm back as he plowed into you from behind, face down and ass up. only your sobs of pleasure and the sound of skin against skin could be heard. his camera was angled perfectly to capture the unfiltered action, his cock sliding in and out of you with ample ease. with a grunt, he pulled your arm again, fucking into you with brutal thrusts. caesar never heard lighter curse that much in a few seconds, not even when he was seething with unbridled rage or injured and battered. “fuck, yeah, you like that? i know you do. goddamn tight, can’t live without this dick.”

the next video had another angle, his phone propped up against something presumably on his nightstand. lighter had both hands on your hips now, rocking your body back and forth as he dragged his hips in and out of your cunt. she could hear the bed frame below you two creaking and thudding against the wall. he was hunched over you, muttering in your ear between breaths, some words unsavory and vulgar, others sweet and encouraging. “need me? you need me to fuck you? you’re doing so good. you won’t let go of me, even if i tried to pull out.” his chest and abs were covered in sweat, locks dampened from the intensity. his lips trailed kisses from your ear, varying in intensity as they went down your neck. he nipped the skin, sucking it with feverish passion, biting your earlobe as he tugged at the hair above the nape of your neck. lighter pulled tightly, savoring your throaty mewl, “you love me? you love it when i fuck you? come for me. show me how much you love it.”

you muttered a few unintelligible words, grabbing at the sheets beneath you as your body shook with fervor, tears welling in your eyes with each helpless moan. lighter pulled harder, fingers intertwined deeply in your hair. in an instant, you trembled harder and cried out. wiggling your hips back and forth, seeking sensation to ride out your orgasm. lighter pulled your head back by the hair, spine arching as he pulled you up, knees still on the bed. you sobbed at the loss of his length inside you, suddenly feeling empty. lighter whispered in your ear, panting and flushed, stroking himself quickly. “that’s it, let me hear you, can’t help but come on my cock.”

with a final, deep stroke, lighter came on the lower part of your back right below the arch. your shoulder blades were flush against his chest. caesar paused the video, heat much more noticeable on her face and through her body. her cheeks were burning red, heart racing at the taboo of watching two people have sex. people she would argue she knows quite well. she closed out of his camera roll and put his phone down, turning it off.

the carnal lust in those videos she saw just couldn’t leave her. should she return his phone, or take a cold shower? should she leave it be, or mention she saw them having sex on his phone? no, no, nothing! don’t say a word at all. she didn’t see anything, she didn’t look through anything compromising. caesar sat in silence for a few more moments, processing what she had just discovered, jumping in her seat as lighter returned.

“hey, did you see my phone?” he approached her as she sat, his phone still in front of her on the table, “oh, there it is. thanks, boss.” lighter didn’t seem to notice her pale and clammy complexion, easily going about his business, unlocking it to send a text.

“yup.” caesar could only muster an uncharacteristically weak thumbs up.

[sturnmeovr]

♡‧₊˚ Video Clips of Sweethearts Pregnancy - First Trimester

♡ 'who said Pepsi kills sperm?' - video length: 33 seconds

Chris holds his phone in his hand, looking into the camera as he brings a half empty Pepsi can up to his mouth, taking a long swig before double tapping his screen. The camera switches, revealing Sweethearts small figure leaning against the bathroom counter, three positive pregnancy tests placed on the counter next her. Chris smiles bright, zooming in on the pregnancy tests, and panning the camera to the mirror as he wraps an arm around her waist. He pulls her into his embrace, pressing a light kiss to her temple before ending the video. Chris makes sure to type the caption, 'who said Pepsi kills sperm??', saving the video to his camera roll, and shoving his phone into his pocket.

♡ 'yikes' - video length: 12 seconds

Chris stands in the doorway of the bathroom, running a hand thru his hair as he looks into the camera. Gut wrenching gags fill the room as Sweetheart empties the contents of her stomach into the toilet. Morning sickness was kicking her ass, and the baby didn't agree with anything she choose to eat, whether she craved it or not. Chris double taps the screen, pointing the camera in her direction before quickly double tapping it again to show his face, he plasters a sarcastic smile on lips and mouths the words, "yikes," before ending the video.

♡ 'Baby bean🧡' - video length: 47 seconds

Chris focuses the camera on Sweethearts belly, the ultrasound technician moves the camera probe across her small bump, spreading the cold gel as she keeps her eyes glued to the screen. Chris pans the camera up to Sweethearts face, she gives him a nervous smile before he redirects the camera to the ultrasound screen. A staticky heartbeat sounds thru the speaker, making a light gasp leave both of their lips in unison as the black and white blurs become easier to piece together. The ultrasound tech chuckles, "very active one we have here," she coos, clicking a few buttons to capture the right image. Once the recording is over, Chris captions it 'Baby bean🧡" and sends it to family and close friends.

♡ 'Dr. Sturniolo' - video length: 18 seconds

Sweetheart lies reclined back in a hospital bed, pointing her phone at the closed privacy curtain, she's trying her best to hold back her giggles. Chris pulls the curtain back, revealing himself dressed in a white lab coat, letting her laughter break free. He steps goofily to her bedside, snapping his blue latex gloves against his wrist before placing a hand on her knee and dramatically trying to pry open her legs, "c'mon, baby," he coos, laughter seeping thru the crack of his words, "open them legs and let Dr. Sturniolo take a look." His face fills the frame, a playful smile sown into his lips as he wiggles his eyebrows at her before she ends the video.

♡ 'who tf told her that? 😭😭' - video length: 14 seconds

Chris records the floor, his bare feet echoing off the hardwood as he pushes his bedroom door open. There she was - wearing nothing but one of his Lets Trip hoodies and her panties as she hung upside down off his bed, her face beat red from all the blood rushing to her brain, and her growing bump protruding out of his hoodie she had on, "the hell are you doing kid?" he chuckles, raised brows and a suggestive smirk on his face. Sweetheart looks at him with a sour expression before propping herself upright, "I heard that hanging upside down stops nausea." Chris gives her a funny look, ending the video, and typing 'who tf told her that? 😭😭' across the screen as a caption.

♡ 'my babymomma 🥵' - video length: 12 Seconds

A blanket draped over her shoulders as she sleepily stumbles into Matts room, leaning against the door frame, "are you coming?" Sweetheart whines at Chris who was sprawled out on his brother's bed, his phone pointed towards her with a bright smile on his face, "y'look good, baby." Once she realizes he's recording her, she covers her face with the blanket she's cocooned in, "Chris st-," the video comes to an abrupt end before she can get the words out. The captions reads: "my babymomma 🥵'

♡ 'reason 193793 why I love her' - video length: 7 seconds

"No way that's happening," Chris eggs Sweetheart on, his dirty thoughts running rampant in his mind. Sweetheart was naive, not thinking anything of his sexual innuendos. She eases the glazed donut into her mouth, only taking notice of her babydaddy's suggestive smirk and raised eyebrows after she succeeds her mission. Muffling out a, "hey!" at the end. This one of Chris' favorite videos of Sweetheart, it shows her goofy side which he absolutely adores since she's usually shy around most people.

♡ 'thank the lord!' - video length: 38 seconds

Chris pushes the box of Mcdonalds nuggets across the kitchen island, giving Sweetheart uneasy look as he focuses the camera on her. She looked drained; like Bella Swan when she was pregnant with Renesmae, she felt like it too. Sweetheart bravely opens the box of nuggets, pulling one out, and taking a small bite. She didn't care if it sent her running to the toilet, the baby growing inside her said her body needed food now. Surprisingly, the chicken nuggets didn't taste disgusting, "sweet n sour?" she croaks out, somewhat relived that baby Bean was finally a agreeing with something she ate. Chris slides her a sauce cup, Sweetheart dips her nugget before taking another bite. She looks up, giving Chris a nod of approval, seconds later he thrusts a fist into air, "thank the lord!" He felt accomplished - having suggested the nuggets to Sweetheart, rushing to McDonalds, and waiting twenty minutes in line for them.

♡ 'GYATT DAMNNN' - video length: 4 seconds

A short clip of Chris recording Sweethearts as she pushes a shopping cart thru target, zooming in on her ass as she walked down the baby clothes aisle. Chris admired what pregnancy did to her body, adding weight to all the right places. Her skin glowed and boobs sat on top of her bump so perfectly, but her ass was his favorite part. He’d give her ten babies if her ass looked like that every time she was pregnant. He captions the video, "GYATT DAMNNN' and saves it to his 'my eyes only' on snapchat.

♡ 'tbh my biggest flex is nutting in her' - video length: 11 seconds

The clips starts with Sweetheart lying in bed, her glasses pushed to her nose with Cheez-its scattered over her barely noticeable belly bump. She takes a sip from her pink stanley cup, plucking one of the squared orange crackers to plop in her mouth, making Chris beam from behind the camera. He loved her so much. Chris marks the caption, 'tbh my biggest flex is nutting in her,' and sends it to all of his close circle, including poor Mary Lou.

♡‧₊˚ Cheys Note - I want to give credits to @kiemiu & @phone4pills for the video clips idea bc their posts were literal perfection and inspired me so much to do this! 😍 I absolutely loovvee the idea of this and may do something else like this in the future if everyone likes it! <3

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