#part of the way through and it just isn’t hitting right

[strawbewiemilk]

Ultimate Tips: How to Hide Your E-D Like a Pro and Keep Your Mindset Unbreakable

Alright, listen up. If you’re serious about getting sk!nny—like b0nes popping, b0dy shrinking, can’t even keep your clothes on sk!nny—you’ve got to master the art of hiding it. Because let’s face it, people will try to ruin your progress. They’ll nag you, shove f00d in your face, and act like they care about your “health.” The only thing you need to care about is staying in control. You want to be thin? Then you’ve got to play the game and outsmart every single one of them.

Here’s how to hide your E-D like a f*cking pro and keep your mindset stronger than steel when it comes to avoiding f00d. No excuses, no we@kness.

1. Be the Queen of Excuses: Lie Without Blinking

If you want to avoid e@ting, you better get good at making excuses, and f@st. Here are some easy ones you can cycle through, so no one gets suspicious:

“I already at3.” Say it with confidence, like you just stuffed your face. They won’t question it.

“I feel s!ck.” No one will force f00d on someone who's about to puke. Use this one wisely—especially during family d!nners or social events. Blame it on “st0mach issues.”

“I’m too busy.” Sk!p me@ls by pretending you have too much on your plate (just not f00d). Talk about your crazy schedule, school, work, whatever. People admire hustlers, not e@ters.

“I’ll e@t later.” This is the most basic but works. Keep promising to e@t later, and then just don’t.

2. The Distraction Method: Make It Look Like You’re E@ting

Sometimes you can’t avoid the situation—you’re stuck at a table, surrounded by f00d, and all eyes are on you. Don’t panic. Here’s how to fake your way through it:

Play with your food. Push it around, cut it up into tiny pieces, spread it across your plate. Make it look like you’re e@ting when you’re not.

Chew and spit. If you must put something in your mouth, chew it up and then discreetly spit it into a napkin or go to the bathroom and spit it out there.

Give it away. Offer b!tes to your friends or “accidentally” drop f00d off your plate. The less on your plate, the better. No one notices a slow e@ter when there’s less to e@t.

3. Stay Invisible: E@t Alone, Avoid Me@ls

Here’s the thing—you don’t want people watching you all the time, so learn to disappear during me@l times. E@t alone, say you’re grabbing f00d to-go, or mention you’re on some new d!et that requires you to e@t on your own schedule. If they don’t see you e@t, they can’t make you e@t.

4. Keep Your Mindset Strong: F00d is Your Enemy, Not Your Friend

The hardest part isn’t lying—it’s staying committed. The minute you let your guard down, someone will force-f33d you, and then all your progress is down the drain. Here’s how to keep your mindset strong and avoid f00d at all costs:

Visualize f@t every time you look at f00d. Picture it sticking to your b0dy. Feel it suffocating you. Disgust yourself. The more repulsed you are, the easier it’ll be to say no.

Remind yourself of your goals. Every time you’re tempted to e@t, think about your ultimate goal weight. Imagine what it’ll feel like when you’re finally sk!nny enough, l!ght enough, perfect enough. Is that burger worth it? Hell no.

Mantras are everything. Repeat phrases like “f00d is weakness” or “I don’t need f00d” over and over in your head. Make it your reality. When hunger pangs hit, embrace them. They’re a sign you’re doing it right.

5. Water and Coffee: Your Best Friends

There’s no room for we@kness in this game, and that means no giving in to hung3r. When you feel like you can’t handle it anymore, drown it out with water and coffee. No c@lories, but they fill you up enough to keep going. Plus, coffee is a natural appetite suppressant, and the caffeine will keep you energized. Chug water all day to stay “full” and pretend you’re e@ting.

6. F@st Like Your Life Depends on It (Because It Does)

Intermittent f@sting? Pfft, that’s for amateurs. You need to be f@sting for as long as you can. Try for 24, 48, 72 hours without a single c@lorie, and don’t stop until your st0mach feels like it’s eating itself. When you can f@st for days on end, you know you’re in control. F@sting proves you don’t need f00d, and every second without it means you’re getting closer to your goal.

7. Plan Your "Slips" (But Don’t Actually Slip)

If you absolutely have to e@t in front of people, make it strategic. Stick to low-c@lorie, high-volume foods that won’t screw up your day. A salad with nothing but lettuce and vinegar, some steamed veggies, or broth-based soup with zero substance. When they see you “e@ting,” they’ll back off. Meanwhile, you’re still st@rving and winning.

8. Reward Yourself (But Only When You’ve Earned It)

You don’t deserve f00d—you deserve progress. So when you hit a milestone—whether it’s a day of f@sting, another p0und lost, or avoiding a full me@l—reward yourself. But don’t make the mistake of thinking rewards are f00d. They’re not. They’re anything but f00d. New clothes for your shr!nking frame, a nice bath, a night out where you feel sm@ll and powerful.

9. Avoid "Help" at All Costs

People will try to stop you. They’ll act like they care about your health, but really, they’re just trying to control you. They don’t want you to be sk!nny, because they’re jealous. If anyone starts talking about how you “need help” or “should e@t more,” cut them off. Block them, avoid them, lie to them. You don’t need their pity, and you sure as hell don’t need their “help.”

10. Stay in Control, No Matter What

The only thing you can control is your b0dy. You can’t control the people around you, but you can control what you put in your mouth. You don’t need f00d. You need control. Every time you choose not to e@t, you’re winning. Every time you push through the hung3r, you’re stronger than the day before.

Final Thoughts

Being sk!nny is a choice. And with the right mindset, you can choose not to e@t. The world is full of distractions and people trying to hold you back, but you don’t have to let them. Stick to these tips, and no one will know. They’ll think you’re e@ting just like everyone else. Meanwhile, you’ll be getting sm@ller, stronger, and more powerful every day.

You got this. Stay focused, stay h-ungry (literally), and remember: f00d is the enemy, and hung3r is your power.

[lovelookspretty]

lover of mine

drew starkey x actress!reader au

— in which drew and y/n, secretly exes, must fake date in order to keep the peace at a mutual friend’s wedding, but the forced proximity makes them question whether they ever truly moved on.

warnings: ermm angst. and another ending that will make u guys mad at me IM SORRY

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight

authors note: SRY idk how to write dramatic scenes like that ☹️ im gonna be better prepared for the next part so u guys can communicate PROPERLY w drew n not in some STUPID restaurant. anyway if u wanna be part of the tag list, let me know in replies, anons, or dms !! notifications are always on <3

your fingers trace the outline of freckles on his arm as he talks about a memory from your past. the soft murmur of his voice blends with the steady rhythm of the waves outside, each sound wrapping around you like a lullaby. there’s no clear distinction between his words, just a gentle hum of familiarity and warmth, like he’s telling you something only the two of you could ever understand.

you can feel the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, the slight shiver that follows each brush as if he’s waiting for you to react, to smile at whatever joke he’s just made.

and you do. you always do.

it feels easy, like breathing, like everything else fades away in this moment.

you’re both lying there, tangled up in each other, the world outside irrelevant. his voice is like the background music of a song you never want to end, and the smile in his tone is contagious, making your heart flutter in a way that feels like home.

and in this space, you’re in love. you’re safe. there’s no distance, no secrets, no hurt—just you and him, where time doesn’t seem to exist. it feels perfect, endless, like nothing could ever come between you.

his hand finds yours, and you smile—because here, in this place, nothing else matters but the two of you.

but that’s not your life.

the warmth of his skin beneath your fingers feels too real, too perfect—yet there’s a gnawing sensation in your chest, a quiet voice whispering that this can’t be right. you pause, staring into his eyes as they flicker with life, his laughter still echoing in your ears. and then, just like that, it hits you.

“this isn’t real . . .” you murmur, the words slipping from your lips like a confession, soft and sad.

the moment shatters, and you wake up with a start, eyes blinking into the early morning light. for a second, your heart races, still tethered to that dream. but as you take in the quiet room around you, reality sinks in like a heavy weight.

drew lies next to you, sound asleep. his breathing is slow, peaceful, completely unaware of the storm brewing in your chest. his face looks calm, almost serene, and for a moment, you can’t tear your eyes away. you wish things could be this easy—simple, like they were in the dream.

if only he knew what you know.

after making that sundae with leila last night—past midnight, no less—you thought you’d be able to shake off everything that happened, but it just made you feel worse. the messages you saw on drew’s phone replayed in your mind, over and over, refusing to let you find any peace.

now it’s morning, and as you drag yourself out of bed, you already feel exhausted. your eyes are gritty, head foggy, and the sun through the windows of the house feel too bright, too warm—too much. you rub your eyes as you shuffle down the stairs, hearing the chatter of everyone gathered in the kitchen for breakfast.

everyone’s already there, looking refreshed. gia’s laughter rings out from the kitchen, and you catch leila’s voice, animated as always, chatting with theo. they’re all gathered around the kitchen island, passing plates of food around—scrambled eggs, toast, fruit. the smell of coffee hits you, and you could almost cry from how much you need it.

leila notices you first. “good morning, sleepyhead!” she greets with a wide grin. “we were wondering when you were gonna wake up. there’s plenty of food left—grab something!”

you give a tired half-smile, barely lifting your head as you mumble, “morning.” your voice sounds flat, even to yourself, and you trudge over to the counter, grabbing a cup of coffee first before anything else.

theo leans back in his chair, eyeing you. “late night?”

you nod, stifling a yawn as you pour your coffee. “something like that.”

leila doesn’t miss a beat, already steering the conversation to her plans. “so, now that we’re all here, i’ve got some exciting news,” she says, “theo booked us a reservation at this amazing restaurant in town tonight, the pearl. we’re talking grand—so dress up nice!” she claps her hands together, clearly excited about the idea.

the group is enthusiastic—gia’s already asking what she should wear, and roman’s grumbling about having to dress up, which earns him a jab from libby. you sip your coffee, trying to focus, but everything feels like it’s happening at a distance.

“y/n you okay with that? dinner?” leila asks, pulling you into the conversation.

you glance up at her, blinking through the haze. “yeah, sure,” you reply. “sounds fun.”

she narrows her eyes at you, noticing the lack of enthusiasm in your voice. “you sure? you seem a little out of it.”

you force another smile, trying to shake off the sluggish feeling. “just tired. i’ll be fine.”

gia chimes in from her seat, giggling as she steals a slice of toast. “maybe you just need more coffee.”

you nod, lifting your mug in agreement. “definitely.”

the conversation continues without you as everyone starts talking about what they’ll wear tonight, throwing out outfit ideas and making plans for the day. drew is sitting across the table, looking as refreshed as everyone else, laughing along with them. but you can’t bring yourself to look at him for long.

he catches your eye across the table. he looks at you with a soft, questioning expression, maybe sensing something’s off. you glance away before he can say anything, focusing on your coffee again, but you curse under your breath when out of the corner of your eye you can see him get up from his seat.

he slides into the chair next to you, a casual smile on his face. “started the trip off with a pool day, and now we’re heading to the pearl for dinner,” he says, glancing at the table where leila’s organized a small checklist on her notes app. “leila’s really in planning mode.”

you manage a half-hearted nod, feeling the fatigue settle deeper into your bones.

“hey,” he continues, his tone light, “you okay? you seem a little—”

you’re already over it. before he can finish, you drop your piece of toast back onto the plate, the sound cutting through the chatter around you. without another word, you push back your chair and get up, taking your coffee with you. the others’ voices fade behind you as you walk away, the tension in your chest tightening.

drew looks after you, brow furrowed, and glances at leila, who’s the only other person who even notices your behavior. confusion lines his features as he points to you while looking at her, like asking if she has any idea what’s up with you.

leila shakes her head in response, but glances up at you walking up the stairs in concern. drew seems unconvinced, but he nods, turning back to the table as you disappear upstairs. and you’re grateful for the distance, even if just for a moment.

Liked by theohain, oscareyre113, and others

y/n 🐚

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user1 divaa

user2 I MET U THE OTHER DAY YOU WERE SO NICE!!! 😭😭

↳ user3 YOU ARE SO LUCKY

user4 mother

gia.carinteri ure so cute

↳ y/n love u

leilajharmon angel baby

user5 Are you and Drew still together?

user6 y/n annual post i’m so grateful to be this early

user7 I miss Tempest :(

↳ user8 me too

user9 Why don’t you ever post Drew?

as you step into the pearl, the warm glow of the lights and the soft murmur of waves greet you. leila and theo lead the way, their laughter weaving through the air as they navigate the restaurant. you grip drew’s hand reluctantly as you follow the group.

the server guides you to a table outside, and your breath catches at the sight: the seaside view stretches out before you, waves crashing gently against the rocks. a delicate black metal arch hangs above the table, draped with twinkling lights that flicker like stars. a large, lush plant sways in the cool evening breeze, and you’re in awe.

you take your seat at the outer corner of the table, next to drew. the space feels too open, and you can feel his gaze on you as you fidget with your napkin, trying to ignore the way your stomach knots.

as the conversations flow around you, he leans in, propping his elbow on the table to speak to you privately. “what’s going on with you?” he asks, “and you can’t use the tired excuse anymore. you’ve had loads of coffee this morning.”

you glance at him, caught off guard by the directness of his question. but take a breath, searching for the right words. all you can manage is a small shrug. “i’m fine. seriously. don’t worry about it.”

you wish you could sound more convincing as the server approaches, placing a beautifully plated dish in front of you. relief washes over you; at least you can focus on the food for now.

theo suddenly clears his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “i just want to say how grateful i am that everyone is here to celebrate with us before i marry this beautiful woman,” he gestures to leila, who frowns as she presses a kiss to his cheek. as the table raises their glasses, you join in but feel somewhat disconnected, and shut out the rest of theo’s short speech until you’re able to eat.

as everyone digs in, gia reaches across the table, poking at her food. “y/n, do you want this?” she holds up a piece of grilled zucchini.

drew interjects before you can respond. “y/n doesn’t like zucchini,” he says casually as he cuts into his food, and you look at him with furrowed brows.

“oh, right.” gia laughs, realization hitting her. “i always mix you two up.” she turns to libby, who’s already reaching her plate across the table.

gia’s cheeks grow red as she giggles, and you continue to watch drew. your eyes meet briefly, but there’s an unspoken barrier between you, so you quickly look away, picking at your food instead.

eventually he even seems lost in thought, his gaze fixed on gia’s plate as he dazes out. roman, sitting across from you, catches on. he leans forward slightly, studying the table as if trying to read the tension, but you notice his motor.

“what are you doing?” you mouth to him.

roman raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. he glances at gia, then back at the rest of you, sensing the unspoken words hanging in the air. he knows something is up between you and drew but decides to keep quiet, because if no one else is saying anything about it, why should he?

and you understand exactly that. you roll your eyes before returning to your food.

“i could die for this garlic bread,” leila groans as she breaks a piece off and eats it. just from hearing it, theo reaches over to take a piece.

you hum as you reach your hand over, and drew grabs a piece for you when he realizes what you want. just as you sit back against your seat, a server from a nearby table accidentally brushes against you as they rushed by, a full glass of red wine slipping from their hand.

time seemed to slow as the glass tumbled, spilling its contents directly onto your lap. your mouth is gaped open and your eyes clamp shut as some of the wine bounces off and hits you directly in your face too.

the others gasp as they stare at you in horror.

“oh my g—” the server exhales, eyes wide with panic. “i am so sorry! i’m so, so sorry!”

you’re frozen for a moment, the cool liquid spreading across your dress, soaking through the fabric. you feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on you, and there’s a rush of embarrassment washing over you.

“perfect,” you mutter under yourself as you try to maintain your composure. “just what i needed.”

the server continues to apologize profusely, almost stumbling over their words. “i’ll get you some napkins! please, let me help!”

“it’s fine,” you tell him, forcing a smile despite the discomfort. “just . . . give me a moment.”

as you stand up, the chair scrapes loudly against the ground, and you can feel the wine seeping down your torso. you quickly glance at drew, who looks alarmed, his fork mid-air.

“y/n,” gia calls to you, but you’re already moving toward the doors, desperate to find a restroom.

“just let her go,” roman says quietly, sensing the tension still simmering beneath the surface. gia is worried as she watches you disappear inside the building.

drew rises from his seat and tosses his napkin onto his seat, pulling his sleeves up before hurrying into the restaurant to find you. meanwhile the server is urgently trying to clean your seat but frowns at the stained floors.

just as you reach the restroom, he catches up, breathless and urgent. you feel like groaning when you feel like you just can’t catch a break. “y/n! hey, wait,” he calls out to you, sliding past a man who tries to return to his table. “sorry.”

you halt, irritation surging. “what? what, what? what do you want?” your voice is strong and sharp, turning around to face him.

he stops in front of you and winces at the stains on your clothes, and he glances up at the doors of the restrooms when he realizes you probably should clean it off your arms and chest at least.

“i know you’re upset, but—” he begins, concern lacing his words.

“upset? you think that’s all it is?” you snap back, meeting his gaze. you actually feel insane with every word you release. “you don’t understand what this feels like.”

he looks confused, searching your eyes for clarity. “what?”

taking a deep breath to calm yourself as best as you can, you continue, “do you have any idea how humiliating it is to notice everyone stop talking and feel their eyes on you? and the moment you do get up and walk past them, all you can hear are their murmurs and whispers about how— how embarrassing this all is? it’s suffocating!”

he opens his mouth to respond, but you press on, frustration spilling out. “and it’s not even just about tonight. it’s about how it feels to find out your own fake boyfriend is keeping secrets from you and has been this whole time.”

his expression freezes, shock washing over his face. “what? keeping what from you?”

you consider your choices for a second before stepping forward to reach into his back pocket, but there he reacts—as swift as ever. like he has something to hide. and he does.

he grabs a hold of his phone before you can and when you look up at him, you can feel the guilt in his eyes. but seeing that doesn’t hurt you as much as it does when you understand how fast he is to keep his phone away from you.

you take a step back and feel yourself falter. tears well in your eyes as you watch the way he grips his phone like suddenly it matters to him. it never has before. and you know why it does now.

“so you do know what i’m talking about,” your voice is quiet, a mix of betrayal in your tone that causes drew to reach out to you to say ‘wait’.

“when in the last year did you turn into a child?” you whisper to him, a faint scoff leaving your lips as you stand before him. you’re confronting him in a hallway of a restaurant for crying out loud.

“when you make a plan with your ex-girlfriend, you make sure there isn’t somebody already waiting for you back home. you don’t get close to me while we’re here and you don’t keep it from me the whole time . . . i mean, when were you going to tell me? or tell mila?”

he shakes his head slowly, “i’m getting close with you for the others, remember? that’s our plan.”

“then you shouldn’t hold me and hug me when it’s just us, drew.”

his heart drops at the sound of his name, the familiarity twisting into something more painful in this moment. “y/n—”

“no, don’t ‘y/n’ me,” you cut him off, your voice rising. “you can’t just play both sides. if you’re going to keep secrets from me, then don’t pretend like we’re something we’re not when the rules don’t apply. it’s clearly more than just showing out in front of leila and everyone when it’s just us.”

“but it’s not like that,” he insists, his eyes searching yours for understanding. “we’re trying to make this work for everyone else!”

“for everyone else? or for yourself?” you ask him. “because i swear to you, if i had known mila existed, never in this universe would i have ever agreed to the plan. because it hurts all three of us. do you understand?”

you wait for him to say something—anything, but you’re not surprised when he just stares at you with the same look in his eyes.

it’s too much. way too much. and you still have so many things to say.

are you betrayed that your ex-boyfriend has someone new? are you even able to be mad at that?

“was it worth it?” your voice cracks as you struggle to get the words out. “i keep asking myself, was it worth it to feel so alive, even if it led to this? or would it have been easier if this just never happened at all and we just told them instead of doing all of this for fucking nothing.”

as the last words escape your lips, you push the restroom door open, leaving drew in the hallway in silence.

girl .. ill make a better confrontation in the next part or something what the fuck. im compiling a whole list of his mistakes rn so i can actually be prepared for it too LMAO

@rubixgsworld @itgirlbrina @thepopcultureaddict @icaqttt @samsmelodrama @kissfinalgirl @itsamegazaddysworld @willowpains @toterry @wearemadeofstardust0 @maybankslover @itneverendshere @httpsdrewstarkey @cl4uus @ilyrafe @sunny1616 @pillowprincess4him @yootvi @matthewswifeeee @uwuemlwlrld @l4venderia @chenslucy

[diminuel]

I said I'd try to write a little companion piece/ continuation to my Luffy time traveling into the past to meet a young Crocodile comic!

As a warning: I know nothing about ships and since this is just a little no pressure project to try to get out of writer's block I didn’t do a lot of research. There is also a plot discrepancy because Luffy mentions Bonney and her abilities which he shouldn’t know based on the frame story I’ve given this fic *lol* Also: I don't know how to write these characters yet.

No beta, sorry for mistakes.

This is a Crocodad AU fic of course! ♥

--

Maybe This Time Part 1 (3.5k)

“Better get down from there, Luffy!” Nami called from the upper deck. “I don’t quite trust these clouds.” Luffy turned to look over his shoulder, feet dangling over the railing. Nami stood with a hand over her brow, looking up at the sky. Luffy turned back to look out at the sea and tilted his head up. The sky had a pretty green hue, nearly blending seamlessly into a dark mist rising above them. A huge dark cloud had formed ahead, casting a shadow over the sea in the distance.

“Just-“

He titled forward, lost his grip on the railing. A swooping feeling of falling tickled his stomach but before he could make a surprised sound he hit the surface of the water. It felt like he was crashing through glass.

And then it was dark.

This wasn’t the first time Luffy woke up after having been tossed into the water, but for some reason he was bone dry. And oddly thirsty.

“Thirsty,” he wheezed, sticking out his tongue to escape the uncomfortable dryness of his mouth.

A small barrel with a straw was held out to him with a curt “here.” Luffy’s attention zeroed in on the offering and he grabbed it without second-thought. A couple of deep gulps of the water later he felt a lot better already. He heaved a sigh in relief. He took the straw into his mouth again, starting a thank you as he turned towards his savior.

Startled, he sucked in water and spit it out again before he could choke on it, right into the face of someone who looked shockingly familiar.

“BABA?!” Luffy yelled. The person in front of stared at him blanky, the water dripping off his face.

Luffy stared right back. Could it be? This wasn’t Baba as he knew him, but much younger. Sure, they hadn’t seen each other in a couple of months, but he couldn’t change that much, right? But who else could it be? The same hair, the same eyes, the same scar, the same unimpressed expression.

A thousand questions rampaged through Luffy’s minds. How was Baba here? Last they had talked he had been still on Buggy’s homebase. Had he saved him? Where was his crew? What kind of island was this? But one question seemed most important.

“Why are you so young?!” Luffy asked, staring at Baba who couldn’t be much older than Luffy was now.

“Huh?”

“Was it Bonney?” The confusion on Baba’s face only grew.

“Who?” he asked. Luffy stared back at him taking in the complete lack of recognition on Baba’s face.

What?

“Don’t you recognize me, Baba?!” Luffy shouted in horror. The corners of Baba’s mouth twitched and his brows drew down. At least that was a marginally more familiar expression on his face.

“My name isn’t Baba,” he insisted. “And no. Should I?” That hit Luffy like Grandpa’s fist of love.

“Yes!!” Luffy argued, feeling overwhelmed and his crew wasn’t even here to help figure this out. Robin or Jinbei would know what to do! Luffy looked at the sea. It was overcast, the sun faint, the air cool. It was most likely early morning. There wasn’t a single ship visible in the bay or beyond. No other people on this beach. He could feel tears form in his eyes.

“What is going on?” he yelled.

--

There were rules for unexpected situations that had been drilled into his head at an early age. Get yourself out of any immediate danger. Figure out where your people are and regroup. Figure out where you are. Eat. Everything else can wait until after you’ve eaten.

Maybe the importance placed on food was just the Monkey family’s way of dealing with problems, but Luffy wasn’t about to complain. The perfectly grilled meat and the little stick that was loaded with huge mushrooms helped to dampen the anxious pit in his stomach. But the moment he looked up and caught a glimpse of the person sitting across from him, tearing the meat straight off the bone in an unsettling lack of finesse, he felt like he was being dunked into sea water again.

Just what was going on here? Luffy had been travelling with his crew, enjoying that exhilarating part of adventuring where you were simply sailing, facing the challenges the sea of the New World threw at you, not yet knowing where the path would take you. And then the next thing he knew he was plunged into water, sank, blacked out.

Nothing after made any sense. Because the person that had saved him…

“You’re staring.” Luffy startled at the unsettlingly unfamiliar voice. He watched the person opposite him pick his teeth. “Do I really look like that Baba person?” Maybe a smart man would keep his mouth shut and Luffy had been raised to have at least a pinch of common sense between his ears but…

Just what was he supposed to do when a young version of his father was sitting opposite him?!

“You do,” he settled on saying, wary. Baba didn’t look particularly upset by his lack of an explanation, not even a hint of annoyance pinching his brow. And that was unusual too.

What was this? A hallucination? Someone’s devil fruit power? Actual time travel?

(And why not into the future so Luffy could at least see cool robots shooting lasers?)

“What did you say your name was?” Baba asked, genuinely curious, then he pointed at the food in Luffy’s hands. “More where that came from,” he promised. “Eat.” And wasn’t that just another strange thing? Why was he so nice to him if he didn’t even know who Luffy was? Luffy stuffed the food in his mouth, chewing morosely.

“Monkey D. Luffy. I’m going to be the pirate king,” he announced, though far more subdued than he usually was when introducing himself. Baba’s eyebrow lifted.

“There’s no such thing as a king of pirates,” he said, chuckling to himself. “Isn’t that the whole point? The freedom?” Luffy swallowed his food, tilting his head in confusion. Baba put his elbow on his knee, and propped his chin in his palm. He grinned at Luffy, the expression open and joyful, almost mischievous. “That’s why I set sail. I want to do things for myself, see what I can achieve on the Grandline!” His grin softened to an expression a lot more familiar to Luffy though he couldn’t exactly place it. “A big adventure before…,” he trailed off and sat up straight, still grinning but not sharing his thoughts.

It was strange to hear Baba talk of freedom and piracy like that. While Baba had given Ace, Sabo and him a lot of practical information on what to expect out of piracy, he almost never talked about how it used to be for him when he just starting out. Luffy didn’t know when he became a pirate, what motivated him or why he gave up that freedom for a warlord position.

He just knew that nowadays everything, even freedom, was shackled by conditions upon conditions. A thousand locks for Baba and Dad to pick before it could be achieved. Luffy had never quite understood it. Freedom was so easy to achieve if you just pushed your boat off the shore.

Maybe this Baba still trusted that freedom was always within reach.

“How old are you?” Luffy blurted out, putting aside the unease about the situation to admit a little bit of curiosity. Even if it was a hallucination or the work of a very capable impostor, he wanted to know more about him. He wanted to know everything about him.

“19,” Baba answered. “And you?”

“Uh, me too,” Luffy said, then lifted his fingers. “46 minus 19.”

“27,” Baba answered right away, chewing on a mushroom. It seems Baba hadn’t yet discovered the “don’t talk with your mouth full” rule.

“27 years?” Luffy repeated in dawning horror, touching his palms to his cheeks. “I’m 27 years in the past?!” He whined and let himself drop onto his back. He stared up at the overcast sky, partially visible through the sparse trees here so close to the shore. How was that possible?! Did they sail into some sort of mystical area of the Grandline and were now all scattered across time? Was that even possible?

Baba’s face appeared in his field of vision, blocking out the sky.

“What are you talking about?” he wanted to know, his hands in his hips as he bent down to study Luffy. “You can’t seriously believe that you’re from the future.”

“But I am!” Luffy insisted and jumped to his feet. Luckily Baba straightened quickly enough to not be hit by Luffy’s head. He grimaced, momentarily distracted by the fact that even now his father was nearly a head taller than him. He shrugged it off. “I know that there is no known devil fruit that will grant the user the ability to go back in time. But there has got to be an explanation for this!”

“Other than you being insane?” Baba offered but judged by his tone and the grin stretching his lips he was teasing, not mocking. Luffy groaned, then crossed his arms over his chest. “You do realize that what you’re saying is improbable.”

“But it’s still true!” Baba didn’t react to his outburst. “I’ve seen a lot of so-called improbable things before! Islands with dinosaurs! Islands that fly in the sky! Islands where people turned into living toys!” Baba lifted his eyebrows at that. Luffy waved him off. “It was just Mingo, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not worrying about it,” Baba answered, amusement evident. “But it seems like you’ve already travelled a bit. I thought you were new to the Grandline. You look like a rookie.”

“I’m not!” Luffy protested then pointed his thumb at his chest. “I’ve been on the Grandline for 2 years! I’ve got an amazing ship and the best crew in the world!” At the mention of his crew his spirits sunk like an anchor. He hoped they were okay…!

“Where were you when you got separated from your crew? You can’t have been washed ashore from that far away,” Baba asked. Luffy hummed, trying to remember. He scratched his head.

“We’d been on sea for about three weeks after Wano,” he said. “But we hadn’t come into stable climate yet, so I don’t think we were close to an island.”

“Wano,” Baba repeated. “You were in the New World?” He seemed surprised now. Was he doubting him again?

“You’re in the New World too,” Luffy shot back.

“No! We’re on Agaricus,” Baba insisted. Luffy squinted at him. Where had he heard that name before? He was sure he had heard Baba mention it. “The next big island you might have heard of is Alabasta.” Luffy hit his balled fist into his palm in recognition.

“The autumn island where you like to go mushroom hunting!” he said then the words registered. “What?! We’re in the first half of the Grandline?!” Baba looked about as shocked as Luffy felt.

“How do you know that?” he asked and it took a moment for Luffy to realize that he looked wary all of a sudden, his stance a lot less relaxed. Luffy knew that he should be able to defend himself against a 19-year-old version of his father, but he still didn’t want to test that hypothesis if Baba actually started to believe that Luffy was a threat.

“I told you! I’m from the future! I know you!” Luffy defended himself. Baba frowned at him, but his stance shifted just a bit. A soft sound at Luffy’s feet made him look down just to see tendrils of sand slip back down on the floor. He hadn’t even realized that Baba must have manipulated the sand to grab him if needed. When Luffy looked up Baba’s expression was serious, a crease between his eyebrows.

“27 years into the future,” Baba affirmed. “When you and your crew sailed the New World. As apparently I do too.” He rubbed his arms, his face uncertain for the first time. “I’m still alive in 27 years?”

“Obviously!” Luffy insisted, angry at the suggestion that Baba would not make it on the Grandline. “You’re strong!” A small grin appeared on Baba’s face.

“Yeah? So how do we know each other? Am I your captain or something?” Luffy wrinkled his nose but at the same time Baba did too. “Do I insist on everybody calling me Baba like fucking Whitebeard wants everyone to call him Pops?” Baba made a disgusted expression at that. Luffy of course knew that Baba and Whitebeard had history, but as most things of his father’s past, this was something he kept close to his chest. Sometimes his secrecy was quite annoying and it was hard to pretend not to care about what had happened, especially since the old man had meant so much to Ace.

“How can you already have a grudge against Whitebeard at 19?”

“Oh, so you don’t know everything, Monkey D. Luffy,” Baba said, his grim look dropping quickly at the supposed upper hand he fancied himself to have. Luffy wasn’t used to these quick mood changes. Still, instead of answering he grimaced. “What?”

“I don’t like when you call me by my full name. You only do that when you’re scolding me. Call me Luffy or Strawhat.”

“Strawhat?” Baba asked, laughing. Luffy pulled his hat from his back and put it onto his head demonstratively. “And you let me scold you? What am I? Your mom?” Luffy pressed his lips together, the question feeling like someone had upended a bucket of cold water onto his head. But Baba laughed in amusement as if the thought was absurd. “Am I your captain?”

For the first time a different kind of worry made a home in Luffy’s mind. He had arguably no experience in time traveling but he wondered if it was a good idea to let his father know too much. Could Luffy change the past just by being here? Could he change his own present if he messed up here?

Luffy knew that he was a “happy accident.” What if he told Baba who he was and Baba decided to be a bit more careful so that no happy accidents happened accidentally? That’d be horrible! Would Luffy just disappear?! Maybe this was the true danger of this situation!

“You’re not my captain! I’m the captain of my ship!” Luffy insisted, pride in his position winning out over the moment of panic.

“Then what’s our connection?” Crocodile asked and took a step closer to Luffy, a glint in his eyes that Luffy didn’t quite like. He didn’t have a sharp hook to hold under his nose but he had a sharp and menacing grin. “Spit it out, Strawhat.”

“I… I don’t know anything!” Luffy said through pursed lips, looking away. But other than grab him and shake him or worse (as Luffy had seen Baba do to people who annoyed him or lied to him) Baba just blinked at him. Then he threw his head back and laughed.

“I know someone who’s just as horrible as you are at lying!” he said. Luffy wrinkled his nose. Not everyone could lie professionally. “But why don’t you want to tell me?”

“Because I am from the future!” Luffy insisted. “What if I say something that changes something big?! I don’t want that! I like my life! Maybe if someone sent me into this past, this is their objective?! What if they’re trying to kill me by letting me make a mistake here in the past that leads to me not being born?!”

“That seems far too much effort,” Baba said, looking Luffy up and down. “You don’t look particularly strong, Strawhat,” he said his tone annoyingly patronizing. “A stray bullet could kill you.”

“What?! I am strong! And my bounty is higher than yours!” he protested. Luffy would never have said that to his Baba’s face but this young version of him was different. “And I’m not going to tell you what it is!” Baba rolled his eyes.

“At least tell me I didn’t choose something as stupid as Baba as my name,” he said, then he moved his hand and a wave of sand spread over the fire they had roasted their food on, dousing it at once.

“I’ve always done my best to fly under the marine’s radar and it’s hard to break the habit. I haven’t really gotten my name out there yet,” Baba continued. He pointed at Luffy. “But I will! The world will soon hear of the exploits of Crocodile!” Luffy stared at him, taking in his wide, confident grin.

Baba looked impossibly young.

“Yes,” Luffy agreed, not sure why there was a lump in his throat. Baba smiled at him, then he reached out to pat Luffy’s shoulder. “Let’s go.” Baba turned around and started packing up the rest of the cooked meat and mushrooms. He tossed Luffy a bag, then shouldered his own. When he walked away from the camp, Luffy trailed after him.

“Where are we going?” he asked. They stepped out of the outskirts of the forest and back onto the beach. There was a small ship docking on a pier that Luffy hadn’t noticed back when he had first woken up. It wasn’t much bigger than the one Luffy had initially set out on. Far too small for a crew of more than two. Not a vessel that looked suited for the Grandline.

“You’re looking for your crew, right? And a way to get back home, wherever and whenever that might be,” Baba said and then thrust his thumb behind him, towards the ship. “So what do you say, Strawhat Luffy? Want to join me?” Luffy looked at him in surprise. Baba wasn’t exactly the kind of person to make such generous offers to strangers, at least he wasn’t today.

“Fine. But I’m captain!” Luffy said and extended his arm to grab onto the ship’s mast. He pulled himself onto the ship, Baba staring after him. Luffy sat himself down at the helm of the ship. Baba cursed to himself, then undid the rope and gave his ship a powerful shove with his foot. He turned into sand and landed on the ship next to Luffy.

“No way! This is my ship!” Luffy looked up the mast, noticing the lack of a pirate flag.

“Baba-“

“Don’t call me that.”

“Crocodile, you don’t even have a pirate flag!” he said disapprovingly and for the first time Baba actually seemed embarrassed. “Does your ship have name at least?”

“Yeah, it’s the Mind Your Own Business Strawhat!” Crocodile went down into the cabin and then came back with an eternal pose. Luffy couldn’t read the name written on it. Crocodile walked to the steering wheel and then looked up at the sail. Luffy watched as sand spread from Crocodile’s body until the sails were lifted and caught the wind.

“Where are we going?” Luffy asked, inspecting the stemhead but it didn’t seem particularly comfortable to sit on. Crocodile’s ship didn’t even have a figurehead! Maybe he had a banana in his galley so Luffy could put it on the stemhead. The "Mind your Own Business Strawhat" needed least some decoration. Momentarily caught up in his musings, it took him a moment to turn back around to look up at Crocodile behind the wheel. It was strange seeing him there. He had only sailed with Crocodile on the same ship once, leaving Impel Down. He didn’t know why it seemed so strange to see him man a ship himself. He knew that his father was a pirate and yet it seemed odd to realize what that actually meant. That he hadn’t always been a warlord who tended to stay in one place or travel on marine vessels, that he hadn’t always had 2000 people under his command, that he hadn’t always been an emperor’s commander. But he looked comfortable behind the wheel, like he had never done anything else.

“Do you want to go all the way to Wano?” Luffy eventually asked and jumped up to where Crocodile was. “What about your own adventure? Don’t you want to follow the log poses and do your route around the Grandline?”

“I don’t mind making a detour,” he easily said as if it wasn’t difficult at all for him to give up his plans. “And absolutely not, I’m not going to sail into the blue like that just based on your last location in allegedly 27 years from now” Crocodile said with a scoff. “We need information.” He smiled down at the log pose. “And I might have an idea where we could get it.”

To be continued? If you find it too hard to read on here I can post it on AO3.

[aestheticaltcow]

No Phone Policy 6.0

The final part of No Phone Policy: I had a lot of different ending ideas for this, but low-key. The seasonal depression is hitting pretty hard, so we get an okay ending instead of a fire ending. There may be an epilogue, but don't quote me on that.

The Bear Masterlist

Previous Part

“What’s goin’ on, Y/N? You’re scaring me…” Mars begged as she kneeled beside you, brushing your unkempt hair out of your face. After what had happened with Carmy, you’d come to her downtown apartment. You didn’t answer her question. You closed your eyes and tried to take a breath, only for it to get caught in your throat.

Mars sighed and let you be in her guest room. 

Your Dad, on the other hand, had none of this. When Mars had updated him on what was happening, he was mentally preparing to go to prison for the rest of his life. He was going to kill Carmen Berzatto and happily admit to doing it. No one hurt one of his little girls and got away with it. 

He pulled up to you and Carmy’s house early that afternoon. He parked next to Carmy’s car and calmly approached the door. He remembered where the two of you hid your spare key and let himself in. 

“Carmen,” he called as he began walking upstairs, clenching and unclenching his fists as he vaguely remembered the layout of your home. He saw an open door and confidently walked in to see Carmy holding his granddaughter. Her eyes were wide as she furious sucked on a tie-dye pacifier, “Oh hey Marty. Y/N isn’t here..” Carmy trailed off awkwardly, unsure of how much you’d told your dad. 

“That’s Mr. Y/L/N to you, Carmen. Now, give me my granddaughter and start explaining what you did to my buggy,” he said authoritatively. Carmy sighed and handed Wolf off to him.

“Hi, gorgeous girl. You look just like your mommy- why is your mommy not here? Did your daddy do something stupid?” 

Carmy swallowed as he stood before Marty awkwardly, “We’ve been fighting… she has some fuckin’ postpartum thing. I don’t know- I wanted things to go back to the way they were, and I guess I pushed her too far. I didn’t hurt her- at least this time… she was ignoring me, and I grabbed her wrists, but this time, she fell down the stairs and ran off. She isn’t answering my calls, so I don’t know where she is.” 

Marty didn’t believe him for a dam second. “Be so happy I’m holding my granddaughter right now, or I’d beat the crap out of you, Carmen.”

Carmy nodded, knowing it was true, “Look, Mar- Mr. Y/L/N, I love Y/N more than I could ever. I’ve been killin’ myself over missing Wolf’s birth since she came out. I fuckin’ failed as a father and as a husband. I- I don’t deserve your daughter; I never have, and I never will. I just wanna talk to her. If she wants to leave, I’ll sign whatever- I just wanna see my daughter.” Carmy swallowed softly, suppressing the urge to cry.

~

Carmy dug through his closet that morning as Natalie sat on his bed, holding Wolf on her lap. “So, how do you want today to go?” she asked, wiping Wolf’s mouth with a tissue. Carmy huffed and pulled out a blue button-up shirt from the back of his closet. He was unsure if it would fit, but it was the ‘most court-appropriate,’ as Pete would say. 

“I dunno. Guess what were doin’ now?” he chuckled as he threw the shirt to the bottom of the closet still on the hanger. “Fuck it- I haven’t seen my wife in fuckin’ weeks. I’m fuckn’ tired of this shit. I want her to come home. I don’t wanna get divorced and fuckin’ share custody. I want her here, with Wolf, with me- as a fuckin’ family.” he scoffed as he moved to sit next to Natalie. “It took a year and a half to even get pregnant, and then I went and fucked everything up.” 

Natalie put her free hand on his shoulder and smiled sympathetically, “I can’t imagine what you’re goin’ through right now, Carmen, but I think if you stand there and speak from the heart, everything will work out.” 

Carmy shrugged and took Wolf from her lap. She laughed at the feeling of Carmy’s hands wrapping around her waist. He couldn’t help but smile at the sound, “You’re gonna have so much fun with Auntie Sugar… be a good girl, okay?” 

Carmy’s question was met with happy gurgling and a gummy smile. He smiled and kissed her before handing her back to Natalie, “Well, which me luck.” Carmy grinned as he excused himself.

~

When you entered the courtroom, Carmy felt his heart skip a beat. He didn’t realize how long it had been since he’d last seen you. You’d changed your hairstyle from what it had been to a shoulder-length bob; you also dyed it darker. Carmy swallowed when you took your jacket off. He hadn’t seen you in person for weeks, and as much as he tried, he could tear his eyes away from your chest. 

The judge called the hearing to start and began asking questions concerning the nature of the divorce. The words went through Carmy’s head, but he didn’t hear them. He was preoccupied with you. He noticed how you picked at your cuticles and kept crossing and uncrossing your legs and the glossy look in your eyes. You were on the verge of tears throughout the hearing, this was the last thing you’d wanted to do. Having your marriage dissolve. 

“Mrs. Berzatto, do you agree to the laid out terms?” you were brought back to reality when the judge had asked you the question. You looked at your lawyer who urged you to answer, you swallowed and finally looked at Carmy. When your eyes met his, everything flooded back. Meeting him at some bar all those years ago, your first date when he spilled both his and your wine glasses on you. His horribly awkward apologizes led him to info dump of how to get red wine stains out of cotton which led to the deeper conversation of how he’d been collecting denim with his brother since he was a teenager. Memories of laughing together, him attempting to help you with your homework, cooking dinner together at 3 in the morning, and just loving and being loved by him flood your mind. Being with Carmy was like being in a rom-com from the early 2000s.

“Y/N?” your lawyer asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. You took a deep breath and tried to say something, but no words could come out. “I-uh.” You stammered, “I’m sorry.” You managed to get out before quickly walking out of the courtroom, ignoring your lawyer's call after you. 

Carmy watched you hurry out of the room and then turned his attention to the judge. “May I?” he asked, gesturing to the door. “Be my guest, Mr. Berzatto.” The judge exasperated. Carmy nodded and quickly walked out of the courtroom to find you.

You were sitting on a bench just outside the courthouse with your face in your hands. He shoved his hands into his pockets and slowly walked to the bench. As he sat next to you, he heard you sigh. “Hi, Carm,” you said softly. 

“How’s you know it was me?” he asked playfully. He heard you scoff and watched you push your hands through your hair. 

“You always smell like smoke, spearmint, and old spice,” you answered, looking up at him. He chuckled, and you watched him adjust into a more comfortable position.

“You look good. How have you been?” Carmy asked as he turned to face you. You bit the inside of your cheek nervously. “Biting the inside of your cheek… am I making you nervous?” he teased. You rolled your eyes and sighed.

“Really shitty… I’ve been absolutely dreading this day all week.” you laughed as you finally looked up at him. “Who schedules a divorce hearing on a Friday afternoon? Sorta a weekend killer, isn’t it?” 

Carmy laughed at the sentiment, “A bit. For what it counts… I’m sorry for everything I’ve done.”

“Don’t apologize. I’ve been thinking a lot and…” you took another breath as you pushed a loose lock of hair behind your ear. I don’t know what I want to do.” 

Carmy’s eyebrows knit together as he shot you a confused look, “Do for what?” 

“Obviously, I don’t know what I want for dinner.” You sarcastically joked, “I don’t know if I want to get divorced.”

“What brought that on?” Carmy asked shifting in his seat moving closer to you. You copied the movement and thought for a moment before explaining. 

“Wolf, in all honesty. I look at her and I see you.” you laughed, “I don’t know if you know but Natalie sends me at least three pictures of the two of you together everyday.” Carmy chuckled at that, he hadn’t asked Natalie to do that but he appreciated it in the moment. “I don’t want her to have divorced parents and I-” you paused for a second “I don’t want to get divorced.” 

“You don’t want to get divorced?” Carmy repeated, making sure he’d heard you correctly.

“I don’t want to get divorced.” You said again. The comment left Carmy dumbfounded, “I’ve been thinking a lot, and I guess I realized you are sorry for all the shit you did. I said some really mean shit to you, and while it was somewhat deserved, I’ve been reflecting a lot, and- I don’t wanna get divorced. Do you?”

Carmy laughed at the obscurity of the question: “You initiated this baby. When I asked you to marry me, I meant it till death.” You sniffled at Carmy’s words and reached out for him. Carmy grinned and moved to hug you. Having you in his arms felt foreign, not in a bad way, but in an unfamiliar way. 

It wasn’t an overnight ‘get back together’. It took work, and the two of you were ready to do it.

[anangelinthepit]

Without You…

Warning ⚠️ - abuse. Please don't read if these topics make you uncomfortable.

************************************************

Part 5

Y/N’s POV

The car ride was silent the rest of the way after that horrific interaction. Little did I know that was only a glimpse of the punishment that was waiting for me at home. When we pulled up to the house, there was a new security gate installed along with some very high-tech cameras. One thing about Noah is if he didn’t have to spend money on it he wouldn’t, and the fact that I cost him a pretty penny just puts me in a deeper hole. I looked over and saw Noah staring directly at me. He must have been keeping his eye on me the entire time and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he didn’t even blink.

I grabbed my purse and got out of the limo with Noah right behind me grabbing my arm.

“Wherever I go, you go. If I can’t be there, Nick or Davis will be. Understand?”

Squeezing my arm to make sure I heard him loud and clear, I shook my head in agreement and tried to wipe my tears away. I couldn’t stop them, it was like a waterfall of pure misery and despair falling from my eyes. He yanked me into the house abd forced me to go up the stairs to our bedroom, as I looked behind me I could see Nick staring at us and Davis trying to get him to unclench his first. I mouthed “It’s okay” in hopes it would bring some comfort. We got to our room and Noah aggressively shoved me in as if he just caught a firefly in a jar. As I stumbled over my feet I heard the door close and lock behind him.

“Noah I understand you are mad at me, but you need to stop grabbing me the way you d-“

Before I knew it, a sharp sting was kissing my cheek causing me to fall back on the bed.

“You listen to me and you listen good. I make the fucking rules around here, you just obey. Understand!”

I looked up at him and held my cheek, if I wasn’t in such a fragile state I would have fought back. Instead, I quietly agreed. I sat there on the bed with even more tears welding up in my eyes. So much for “I’ll never hurt you”

Noah went over and pulled his pack of cigarettes out. He was gonna light one in front of me until the realization hit him.

Letting out a sigh of exhaustion and running his fingers through his hair, he tossed his lighter on the dresser and looked at me

“I’m sorry.” He said looking down

Hm. Like I haven’t heard that one before.

“I know”

“No, I am sorry Ruby. I shouldn’t have done that. I can’t take it back now but I truly am sorry.”

“I understand”

I know this is all bullshit but I don’t want to poke the bear any more than I already have.

“You need to realize that this isn’t a game Ruby, I know you’re more than aware of where our money comes from and what I do for work. I also know that you indeed stand how dangerous my line of work is. Right?”

“Yes”

“Yes? Okay so then you should know that there are people out there who want to hurt you. Pregnant or not they will do what they want. Those men could have done the absolute worse to you Ruby, and wouldn’t have lost sleep over it.”

“Why is that Noah?”

“Why is what?”

“Why do these men want to hurt me and not you?

“Because…”

The hesitation in his tone and voice even confused me. What is it? Why wouldn’t they just hurt Noah directly?

“Noah?”

“Because they know you’re the only good thing left in me in this fucked up world I created.”

There it is. Big scary mafia man does have a heart. Instead of finding the cigarette, Noah grabbed his victory whiskey and took a huge gulp from the bottle. It’s almost like what he’s about to tell me next is gonna end his macho lifestyle.

“You were right Ruby, I knew what I was doing. All those times I cheated, all those times I came home and was cold to you. Baby, I fucked my world and took you down with me. I know you can’t forgive me, but all I’m asking is for you to stay with me and try. Fuck we aren’t perfect babe, but the love we got can withstand anything.”

I looked up at him and was met with sad heartfelt eyes. Why does he have to be so sweet to me now after all the damage he’s done? After all the damage I’ve done. I can never forgive myself and if he found out, well he would forgive me by putting flowers over my grave. We both have messed up in the past, but the decision I made is gonna haunt me forever.

I held my face in my hands, wishing all of this was a dream. Who do I love? Who do I belong to? Are they both just as equally toxic? Where do I go from here? God please help me, my mind is racing, and I feel like I’m gonna pass out.

I felt a warm loving touch on my stomach and Noah's fingertips gently caressing my chin to face him.

“Ruby, I love you so much fucking much. You are the mother of my child and my entire world. We can make this right again. Just please, please don’t ever leave me. Okay? I will make it so you and Theo don’t ever have to worry about being hurt. I swear to you on our marriage. Let me be the man you deserve. Let me be your protector Y/N”

My heart is fucking breaking and my head is spinning like a carousel. The words “my protector” made me break out in a cold sweat all over my body. I've heard them before.

“Y/N I can be your protector.”

But it wasn’t Noah who said it to me, it was Nick. On the lonely night where I confided in him after Noah up and left to go sleep with his whores. My bed and heart were so lonely and Nick filled that void. What have I done?

I could feel myself floating, almost like I was levitating onto a cloud. Something was wrong but I couldn’t speak.

“Ruby?”

The room is getting darker and my thoughts are becoming could

“Baby? What’s wrong.”

“Noah.. help me.”

The last thing I could hear was Noah screaming for Davis and Nick to call an ambulance and my entire world went dark.

My dream was peaceful yet quick. I was floating in the water but could breathe. When I looked up I could see the chaos happening above me but was unbothered because the water was keeping me safe. The ocean kept me safe. What was my dream telling me? Should I unfold the chaos that awaits me or stay safe in the cool dark ocean?

Grogginess lingered in my mind as I began to open my eyes. The smell of strong disinfectant and crisp air filled my nose. Where am I?

“Y/N”

“Am I in Heaven?”

“Angel.”

No, Heaven is not an option for me anymore.

I fully came to and was met with a worried Nick sitting at my bedside.

“Nick? What happened?”

I tried to get up but my head felt like it was full of cement.

“Easy Angel, you passed out. The doctor said it was some type of dizzy spell. He also said your sugar was extremely low. Have you not been eating?” Nick said gently pushing me back down

I looked around and gave Nick a puzzling stare.

“No, I have, it’s just I’ve been under a lot of pressure lately.”

I was going to relax until I realized something. I don’t remember if I fell on my back or my stomach. Sheer panic came over me and I almost threw myself out of the bed to make sure I wasn’t bleeding.

“Oh god! Theo! My baby !”

“Angel relax, please. He’s okay.”

“No what if something happened? How will I know? Nick my baby!”

Nick grabbed my face and tried to get me to steady my breathing. I’ve seen so many horror stories where women suffer a loss even though they can still see and hear the heartbeat.

“Y/N the baby is okay.”

My breathing started to slow down until Nick reminded me of the decision I would have to live with for the rest of my life.

“Our baby is okay.”

I pushed him off of me and tried to erase that beautiful haunting memory.

“Nick. Don’t.” I said raising my hand at him

“Angel I can’t keep pretending, he treats you like absolute garbage and even went as far as flipping a table at you. How long are you going to make me sit by and watch while he abuses you?”

“Nick this was your fucking idea. You’re the one who told me we didn’t need to tell him and that you’ll let him raise the baby as his own. We are two adults who made a decision that is going to bind us for the rest of our lives. If we tell Noah that Theo isn’t his, we aren’t going to see the rest of our lives. Got it?”

“Angel please, I fucking love you. Do you have any idea how hard this is for me? I was doing this for you so he wouldn't hurt you but he still is. Baby we can run away from all of this. I'm one of his trackers so I'll make sure to go where he can't find us.”

“Nick, get away from me,” I said scooching up in my bed.

I pushed him away once again, what the hell is this man thinking? I'm about to be 7 months pregnant, and I already tried the runaway stunt. Look where it fucking got me. It's like he hasn’t been paying attention. I began to feel aggravated that he would even suggest something so dangerous.

“Nick you have to let the both of us go. If you care about my and your baby’s well-being like you say you do, then you'll be the good little henchmen my husband hired and keep your mouth shut. We have to pretend and I'm sorry it has to end like this. I belong to Noah and now so does this baby. This was your fucking idea, so please try to remember that.”

Nick got up and faced away from me. I know my words hurt him but I have to be this way. It’s for the best for all 3 of us.

“As you wish Mrs. Davis.”

“Good, go get my husband and get the fuck out of my sight.”

The tears fell with each word that came out of my mouth. Our eyes met one last time exchanging the words “I love you” Maybe in a perfect world we could be together and have our baby. Relive those beautiful nights where we could lay under the sheets being tangled up in each other embrace. Talking about our future and if fate would allow us to create one together I would give everything to have that but this isn't my world….

Its Noah’s

************************************************

This storybisnstartin gro become my guilty pleasure. Short chapter but enjoy 🩵

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[aebi12]

"Resentment" - Chapter 21 [AemondxRhaena]

Summary

He is the cause of her sufferings. He took her dragon, her betrothed, and her father. Now, he will also take away her future by having to marry him.

With so much history and bad blood between Rhaena and Aemond, their forced union has everything to fail, except that the proximity will make them discover that perhaps they have more in common than it seems.

AU - the Greens win the war.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 19 - Chapter 20

Masterlist of my other works.

Read on AO3

Tags: enemies to lovers, slow burn, romance, angst, drama, eventual smut, hurt/comfort

Please remember that english is not my first language, so I'm sorry for the mistakes...

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Aemond does not return to the arena.

It is obvious the prince has left the tournament as the minutes tick by and he doesn’t show up, so the competitions resume, and in the end a minor lord from the Riverlands is the winner.

Not that Rhaena has been paying much attention, her mind on the tents where Aemond and Corwyn are surely being tended to.

“Congratulations, ser, and good fortune,” she says mechanically as the knight approaches to pay his respects, thus signaling the end of the tournament.

Finally.

Rhaena doesn’t wait long to step off the platform and cross the grounds on her way to the competitors’ tents. Though the common folk call her name, wanting her attention, she barely raises a hand in their direction, uncaring of the snub. She has to…

She pauses.

Where should she go first?

The two directions open before her. She knows the prince’s tent is to her left, separate from the ones for the other lords’. Eventually, she takes the right direction, moving through the tents and checking the banners, in case any of them give her an indication of who are inside.

“May I help you, my lady?”

A young man looks at her curiously. Rhaena stops and looks at him, “Are you a maester?”

“Indeed, my lady.”

“Are you tending to the wounded knights?” When he nods, she continues, “Have you tended ser Corwyn Corbray?”

“Just recently, my lady.”

“And how is he?”

“He will survive,” the young man frowns, “The only serious wound is the one on his side, but it will heal well with proper care. Would you like me to take you to him?”

There is a moment of hesitation on her part, “No. There is no need, I merely wanted to hear from him,” she sighs, “I imagine he will be taken to the castle to continue his recovery.”

“When he awakens from the sleep of the milk of the poppy, yes, my lady.”

Rhaena nods, “Thank you, maester. You have been very kind.”

She is about to turn away, when the young man speaks again, “Should I… should I let Ser Corwyn know that you asked for him?”

“No, as I said, there is no need.”

Without waiting for an answer, she turns and strides to Aemond’s tent.

***

“At least you had the good sense to withdraw before killing someone.”

His mother’s voice – or rather her complaints – only worsen the headache he feels throbbing in his temples.

“We can still attribute your behavior to some sort of… need to prove yourself or your worth as a warrior in a tournament being held in your honor,” the dowager queen continues, looking at him with a mix of disapproval and anxiety.

“It is irrelevant what the Court think,” he says quietly, the pain in his jaw beginning to show. That fucking Corbray had managed to hit him hard before he could push him away, “They wanted a good show and that’s what I gave them.”

“And since when do you insist on pleasing the common people?”

“Isn’t that what you wanted? For me to get more involved?”

“Not like this!”

His mother sighs, clearly exasperated with his attitude. The prince thinks there is a certain tone of suspicion in her claims, as if Alicent somehow sensed that something else motivated him to participate in the ridiculous tournament, but she does not press for answers. Still, she approaches the improvised bed where he is sitting and takes the clean cloth that the maester has left while he prepares an infusion for Aemond, and wets it in water, approaching her son and delicately placing her hands on his cheek.

The prince wants to murmur a thank you as he feels the cloth clean his wounds, but he cannot. He only limits himself to observing his mother’s still beautiful face, expression concentrated, cleaning the traces of blood, dirt and sweat that are surely stuck to his skin.

“If only you could see yourself!” sighs the queen, “The bruises will soon appear, how will you enter the Great Sept tomorrow in this state? Your handsome face is…”

“You are the only one who finds me handsome,” he interrupts her.

His mother’s response is interrupted by the arrival of his betrothed.

“Queen Alicent,” she greets, walking to a stop a few feet from them. His mother puts aside her task to turn to Rhaena, “Cousin, how are you feeling?”

Their eyes meet for a brief moment, but he doesn’t respond. It’s his mother who speaks, “The prince only suffered superficial wounds, thank the gods.”

“Thank the gods,” Rhaena repeats.

An awkward silence falls between the three of them. Aemond, who can’t speak freely, not in front of his mother, is about to say something when Rhaena intervenes again.

“Your Grace, do you think I can talk to my cousin? Alone.”

His mother, clearly intrigued, looks at both of them, searching for an answer, “I don’t know how appropriate that is.”

“Mother, go find the maester. Our conversation won’t take long,” Aemond’s voice is almost an order.

Alicent grimaces, but doesn’t protest, “I will be back soon.”

Rhaena murmurs a thank you and watches the dowager queen leave the tent before turning to him.

“You took your time before coming and fulfilling your duty to ask for my health.”

The bitterness, much to Aemond’s irritation, is clear in his voice. So is the insinuation and suspicion in his words, which is not lost on Rhaena.

“I assure you cousin, I did not visit him, if that is what you imagine.”

“You did not? Were you not crying at the foot of his bed?”

Rhaena presses her lips into a thin line and tilts her face to the side, clearly annoyed, but ultimately just shakes her head.

“No, though I admit I did inquire about his injuries.”

“Ah,” he smirks at her, “Of course.”

Rhaena takes a tentative step toward him, her hands fiddling with the hems of her dress, “I wanted… I wanted to thank you for not killing him.”

“I was tempted to.”

“But you did not, and I appreciate that.”

Her voice sounds so full of relief, Aemond hates to hear it, so he looks away and down at his hands still red and sore from this morning’s effort, his knuckles cracked from the force with which he had delivered the last blow.

“I imagine you did not enjoy the show as worried as you were for the life of your lover?”

“He was never my lover. And my concern was not exclusively for him.”

“Was it not?”

“No,” she answers almost fiercely, taking a step closer to the prince

“Well, I do not need you to worry about me,” he replies harshly.

No. You don’t need it, but you crave it. You desperately crave for her to… care about you, that voice whispers in his mind.

“Too bad I do. I care what happens to you.”

Aemond only shudders at the words that until a moment ago echoed in his mind.

“Out of obligation?”

“No,” Rhaena takes another step and they are now very close, so close that her dress brushes the destroyed fabric of his pants. She positions herself between his legs and, since the prince is tall, their faces are almost at the same height, “Because I was beginning to enjoy your company and our time together.”

At that, Aemond does not know what to say. Their gazes remain locked for a moment, until Rhaena takes the cloth that Alicent has left, wets it and looks at her cousin, asking with her eyes if she can continue cleaning him. He nods, hating himself, but longing for her touch.

“Does it hurt?” her question is almost a whisper, her small hands delicately fulfilling their task.

“Nothing I cannot handle.”

He is tempted to make a sardonic comment about Corbray’s lack of strength, but prefers to remain silent.

Rhaena nods, and for a moment he closes his good eye and enjoys her ministrations, her fingers brushing the skin of his cheeks, her familiar scent washing over him as they are so close that if he leans forward a little further, he would be able to touch her lips.

“And here?” The prince opens his eye when he feels Rhaena’s hand rest on his chest, over his heart. He looks at her with a confused expression, “Are you happy after taking out your anger on him?”

It doesn’t escape Aemond’s notice that his cousin hasn’t mentioned Corbray’s name out loud. And that, in a way, pleases him, so he decides to be honest.

“Partly, yes,” he answers in the same low tone of voice, “Though I would have been more satisfied if I had gone all the way. At least he got what he deserved and paid for his crime.”

“There was never a crime to pay for.”

“Mmm,” Aemond watches her expression, trying to find some trace of a lie in her eyes, something to betray her words, “Even if I was tempted to believe you, you too must pay for your audacity in meeting him. And him for even suggesting it, for dancing with you, for wrapping his arms around you, for almost kissing you and touching you.”

Rhaena shudders upon hearing this, and the prince wonders if she can detect the possessive tone in his voice as he tells her all these things, “I apologize, cousin. I know I acted in a way that does not befit my position. I am aware of that.”

“Well,” Aemond places his hand over the one Rhaena still has on his chest, slowly stroking her fingers, “It’s good that you have that clear now that you will be my wife.”

“Your wife and therefore you are the only one with the… right to do all those things?”

“Mmm.”

Rhaena smirks, “Well, cousin, that remains to be seen,” she replies, surprising him by noticing her hardened gaze, “Tomorrow you too will become my husband. And I expect the same as you ask of me,” his cousin steps back so suddenly that he can do nothing to prevent it, and only their hands remain joined. She gives him a gentle squeeze before breaking free from his grip and standing at a safe distance, “You know what I mean.”

Yes, Aemond knows what Rhaena is talking about, but he doesn't say anything because Alicent returns at that moment with the maester and she takes the opportunity to leave the tent.

***

Lady Johanna's gaze is on her, watching her with a mix of curiosity and pity?

“I am sorry, my lady, I am afraid I am not the best company this evening.”

They're gathered alone in lady Lannister’s private chambers. Her invitation had surprised her, although she was grateful for the distraction considering that her mind was still returning to the conversation of a few hours ago with her cousin. Had she really given Aemond some kind of… ultimatum? And more importantly, was she even going to be able to fulfill it? It wasn't as if she could stop him from taking her by force or…

“I am perfectly capable of understanding you, Lady Rhaena,” the woman delicately wipes the corners of her mouth with the cloth napkin, “The day before my wedding I didn't eat a bite, I spent it in bed imagining the worst possible scenarios about my future husband and married life.”

“Were you not familiar with Lord Jason?” she asks curiously.

“He was our lord paramount, of course. I had seen him a couple of times when he visited The Crag, but not enough to really get to know him.”

Rhaena nods. She knows that this is how it usually goes in such unions, “Were you scared?” she dares to ask.

“Terrified,” Lady Johanna smiles wistfully, “That is partly why I took the liberty of requesting this meeting. I thought that perhaps you needed a voice with experience on the subject now that you are faced with the fate of every other noble woman in the realm.”

“And I appreciate your consideration towards me.”

“Surely you have doubts,” the woman continues, making a face very similar to Marianne’s when she is concentrating on something, “I imagine that Lady Laena did not have the opportunity to speak with you on these matters, considering that the gods took her when you were still young,” Rhaena simply nods, her heart filling with sadness at the mention of her mother, “And Princess Rhaenyra probably did not speak to you either since your engagement to Prince Lucerys never materialized and times were uncertain.”

Rhaena smiles vaguely, and lifts her teacup to her lips, “I know what is expected to happen tomorrow in the marital bed, my lady, my septas spoke to me of it.”

“Ah, the septas!” Lady Lannister sneers, “They know nothing of the subject. And, if they do know they never dare to speak.”

“Your words do not comfort me,” she lets out a nervous chuckle.

“It is not pleasant. At least, not at first,” she sighs, “But it is our duty, and, with time, it becomes more tolerable. Enjoyable, even, if you can get your future husband to stop thinking only of himself, and take more notice of you.”

“Oh,” is all she can say because the truth is, she has no idea what Lady Lannister is talking about. The woman laughs and sips from her wine glass, clearly understanding her silence, “Do not worry, remember my words and you will understand them as the days go by.”

“I will trust you, Lady Lannister.”

“What I’m really trying to tell you, my dear, is that you need to understand your future husband. Generally, all men like women to be obedient, accommodating, and to simply nod along with everything they say, but we can be more than that.”

“Was that the case with your husband?”

“My husband, gods bless him, loved to hear the sound of his own voice. He was not the brightest, but I learned quickly that he didn’t like being contradicted too much. I would pretend to agree with him, and simply whisper things in his ear, but I did it in a way that Jason thought the ideas were his own,” she smiles sadly, “I am not saying it will be like that with the prince, but you know him, you’ve spent time with him. Learn and observe, it will serve you well.”

Rhaena thinks about her words. She had had a similar thought, of course, but she knows that her relationship with Aemond has changed a lot since then. Weeks ago, when she had wanted to get along with him, it was simply to feel secure in her marriage. Now that there was, somehow, some attraction between them, as well as some sense of competition and battle of wills, everything was more complicated. She knew she should give in, but she didn’t want to. Just as she knew that Aemond showed some weakness towards her, but only at times, only when he was vulnerable, which wasn’t always.

“I’ve given you a lot to think about, it seems,” Lady Johanna’s voice brings her back to reality, “I know that too much is demanded of us, but it will all be worth it if you can earn his respect and regard. His heart, even. And when you give him a son, he will shower you with praise because he will see in him the continuity of his lineage, especially in the situation you find yourself in.”

“I know.”

“It will be worth it, believe me,” she repeats, “A child will change your life, your way of thinking and considering things. And that child will be for you too, especially at the beginning, it will be your world.”

Rhaena doesn’t know if that prospect terrifies her or makes her long for that moment.

“Thank you, Lady Lannister.”

“You are a clever and nice girl, Rhaena, use that to your advantage,” she replies and stands up, “I will not detain you any longer, I am sure you have many things to do.”

Rhaena exchanges a few last words with the woman, and goes straight to her room. When she arrives, she finds several maids packing her belongings into trunks and chests.

“What are you all doing?” she asks Cindy.

“Queen Alicent told us that we should move your things to the Tower of the Hand, my lady.”

The Tower of the Hand. Aemond’s chambers.

“Right, of course.”

Rhaena doesn’t interrupt them any further, she simply sits on the edge of the bed and watches them work, until other maids arrive to fix her hair.

Once again, she doesn't protest, she just lets them undo the dreadlocks from her hair, which takes hours, but she doesn't complain at all, she doesn't complain about the pain or even mention that she would have preferred to keep them. It doesn't matter. Not really.

When they finally let her alone, she lies down on the bed and tries to sleep. And the gods seem to take pity on her once again because she manages to do so without any problems.

***

“You look beautiful.”

The compliment comes from Marianne who, standing behind her, also looks at her reflection in the mirror.

The words of thanks stay in her throat, so she just reaches for her lady’s hand and squeezes it tightly.

It’s not that she doesn’t like what she sees. She knows Marianne is right, she looks good. The dress is a beautiful ivory shade with dark red sleeves that fall to her feet. The details embroidered in gold threads seem to symbolize the flames of dragon fire. The ruby ​​necklace at her throat exquisitely complements the outfit, as does the tiara that looks delicately placed on her mane of silver curls.

She looks more than good, if she is honest with herself.

And yet, she can’t help the feeling of fear and at the same time anticipation that runs through her body.

“Clearly Queen Alicent has good taste,” Marianne continues, “This dress is perfect for a royal wedding.”

Rhaena nods, “Remind me to thank her.”

She doesn’t think she’ll even be able to say anything coherent during the day.

She doesn’t even think she’ll be able to make it to the Grand Sept on her own.

“Come, we mustn’t be late.”

Her friend takes her hand and guides her into the courtyard of the Keep, where she expects to find a carriage, but instead she finds a beautifully decorated open carriage.

“The people will want to see you,” she explains before giving her a hug and saying goodbye.

She is not alone, however. Her cousin is waiting to help her up and make the journey together.

“Lord Alyn, good morrow.”

“Rhaena, you look lovely.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

She does her best not to damage her dress as she sits down. Her cousin settles in as well, and the carriage moves forward, weaving through the people outside the gates, calling out her name.

Thankfully the commotion frees her from having to converse with her cousin. So, she turns her attention to greeting the people, smiling as convincingly as she can and trying to catch some of the flowers thrown her way.

“The people love you.”

Her cousin helps her down as they stop in front of the Great Sept. “People love an occasion to celebrate,” she replies, smoothing the skirts of her dress.

Alyn smirks and offers his arm, which Rhaena takes, slowly moving alongside him.

“We haven’t had much opportunity to talk these days.”

“The wedding took up much of my time, surely you understand, cousin.”

“Of course,” he replies cordially, “However…”

“There is nothing else to discuss,” she replies as she begins to climb the many stairs, “You are to marry my sister, you have assured me that your intentions are the best, and I believe you. I hope your union will be one filled with joy and that, when we meet again, it will be under equally joyous circumstances.”

Alyn does not reply. Although Rhaena has not yet written to Baela, her mind occupied with more pressing matters, she does not tell lies. She believes the new lord Velaryon’s words. It is not her sister whom she is truly concerned about. At least not in matters of marriage.

The Great Sept is brighter than the other times she has visited. Hundreds of candles are lit beneath each altar. The nobles, already assembled, stand in front of the main altar of the Father's statue, and Rhaena notes that only a select group of them have managed to enter the ceremony.

When a trumpet sounds, all eyes turn to her. Alyn begins to advance along the path marked by brothers of the faith, who hold candles and look very solemn. Rhaena does not make eye contact with anyone, her eyes fixed straight ahead, focused on taking one step after another.

“Remember what I told you, cousin,” Alyn whispers when they are already reaching the point where the royal family is standing, “I am here for you.”

Rhaena offers the briefest of nods as she removes her arm from Lord Alyn and walks to where Aemond is waiting for her.

Although the journey is short, the seconds seem to drag on forever as she takes the final steps towards her fate.

“You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection”

It is the High Septon who speaks, a goofy smile on his lips as he looks at her with fatherly affection. Rhaena bites the inside of her lip and kneels before the altar. Aemond walks slowly up behind her, and places a heavy black and red cloak over her shoulders.

Then, he offers her his hand to rise. Rhaena takes it, her heart pounding in her chest as she stands and stays beside the prince.

Has he worn the cloak before? She can’t help but wonder as his scent envelops her. Or maybe it’s just the fact that they are so close to each other.

“Your Grace, my lords, my ladies, we stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of a man and his wife. In the presence of the Seven, I join these two as one flesh, one heart, and one soul for all eternity.”

The High Septon’s words take her breath away, causing her breathing to quicken and her legs to weaken. Aemond seems to notice, because his hand goes to her elbow, holding her. Rhaena doesn’t dare look at him.

“Look upon each other and say the words.”

This is it. The moment Rhaena has been dreading. Not only because the words she must speak next are the final hammer blow to the nail that is her sentence to join her life to Aemond's, but because she is not sure she can even speak. What if she can't make a sound and only manages to embarrass herself in front of the court?

Her thoughts are cut off when her cousin faces her, and she, instinctively, does the same.

Rhaena looks up at Aemond and holds her breath as she watches him.

The bruises that weren't quite as visible yesterday are now. A purple bruise covers the left side of his chin and another is noticeable high on his right cheekbone. The girl is tempted to raise her hand and cover his face, but stops herself, finally placing it next to Aemond's, now holding hands facing each other.

“Father, Smith, Warrior,” the prince begins, and instinct guides her, making her repeat the prayer as well. A prayer she has practiced and knows well, “Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am his and he is mine. From this day until…”

“Until the end of my days,” Aemond finishes for both of them.

The High Septon utters something else and the attendees break into applause and cheers, but Rhaena pays them no attention, her gaze still focused on Aemond.

And the way he is looking at her, with… possessiveness and desire all at once, his one good eye scanning her body up and down, making her blush when he finally meets her gaze again.

And though she’s dreaded this moment for the past few months, though just a few hours ago she was miserable about joining her cousin, now she can’t help but feel the same anticipation he seems to be feeling. And the thought sends a rush of pleasure through her body.

Because she is finally his wife.

And he is hers.

Until the last of their days.

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[ceilidho]

prompt: simon notices you in the stands (welder/amateur rugby player au). (nsfw, 1.9k)

-

She’s in the stands again, and he doesn’t know who for. 

The same bird as the time before, and the week before that. Always a few minutes into the match, like she snuck in through the backdoor. She always leaves in a hurry, up and out of her seat with her jacket already tugged on, her strides quick on her way out the main doors. 

In the years since joining this amateur league, Simon’s never been tempted to talk to any of the people in the stands. For the most part, they’re there for one of the other players anyway. Wives, girlfriends, sisters—the odd cousin or fuck buddy, those girls dipping in and out, replaced by newer, sparklier versions of each other, the older ones licked clean. 

His focus narrows when he steps onto the field anyway, shrinks like horse blinders sunk down over his skull. Hardly a reason for him to spare more than a glance towards the stands.

Rugby’s not a sport for spectators. At least, not such a low level league. Barely amateur—just some of the locals with a bit of built up stress and aggression to work off. It’s why he’s here after all. Simon spends the hours of his day hunched over sheets of metal and carbon steel, sweating into the metal mask pulled down over his face and staring without blinking into the heart of the flame just inches from his face. 

His nerves are a closed fist in his chest and it grows and grows until he steps out onto the field of the local rec centre and hears the timer overhead start to count down and feels someone’s chest cave in when he drives his shoulder into their solar plexus, hears the breath whoosh out of them, their next breath in thin and febrile. 

It sets his head right. Violence with no consequences. At the end of the game, he looks the man he just bruised and bloodied in the eye and shakes his hand. Puts the world to rights. 

And he needs nothing more than that. His bills are paid, bloodthirst sated, thirst quenched when the team hits up a pub after the match, after which he slinks off into the night to head home with his hood drawn over his head, the size of him rarely inviting more violence. Occasionally it happens that someone with the bad luck of choosing him to mug wants to prove that they have the bigger cock, but that never ends well. Not for them at least.

Simon would fight for a living if welding paid him less. As it is, he satiates that beast in him on the field or the occasional back alley, and it keeps him in check.

But now there’s a bird in the stands drawing his eye and distracting him from the match. It rubs him the wrong way. The blood pumps through his veins more viciously, and the pretty thing in the stands watches the game completely unaware, a serene smile on her face. His gaze keeps being pulled towards where she and a couple clusters of fans sit and nurse paper cups of tea.

She cups both hands around her tea and he wonders absently whether she’d have to hold his cock the same way. 

It’s Gaz who calls him out on it first, panting hard after the first period and frowning at the scoreboard. “Not to be a dick, but that was bollocks, Simon. Never seen you miss a pass like that.”

Few people could get away with speaking to him like that, but Gaz is right. He’s been playing like shit, too preoccupied by the bird watching him with wide, rapt eyes. 

He doesn’t know how to apologise though, so he doesn’t. “Graves is a useless twat. Can’t throw for shit.”

Gaz rolls his eyes. “Not saying he isn’t, but you’re distracted. Where’s your head at?”

“Stay out of it, Garrick,” he says, not even bothering to meet his gaze, the warning clear in his voice. 

“Sorry for caring,” Gaz shouts after him as Simon jogs away.

He asks around at first, trying to find out if she’s someone’s relative or girl, but all the guys just shrug, no answers. If she’s someone’s, they aren’t staking a claim on her. It’s good news for him. Bad news for anyone else taking an interest in the girl that comes to their every match to cheer them on.

His urges sit deeper than the abyssal plain.

She’d probably turn tail and run if she knew the hunger festering in his belly. She sits sweet and innocent in the stands cheering him on and all Simon can think about is pushing her knees up to her ears and feeding his fat cock into her pussy. Shoving his tongue into her cunt, licking her from hole to hole. Sucking each puffy lip into his mouth until her moans go garbled, eyes unfocused. 

No, Simon thinks when she jumps to her feet enthusiastically at the end of the match, she probably wouldn’t like that. Women rarely do. Objectifying them and all those other terms that Gaz likes to wax on about, Johnny nodding along like he isn’t the same kind of mutt as Simon. 

Even during the day, she troubles his thoughts. Troublemaker. He thinks of her when he cleans and buffs in between passes, mind not lulled into the rhythmic emptiness of usual. Even the sound of steel sizzling in his ears doesn’t clear her from his thoughts. Instead all he can think of is her walking into the shop in a little skirt and top, and dragging her to the back where he’d bend her over the closest desk and pull her panties to the side before sinking in to the hilt, mask still on. 

He’s never gotten his cock wet on the job—never been tempted to. For her though, he’d make an exception. 

By the next match, Simon’s made up his mind. When he sees her sneak in after the match has already started, he feels his blood pump harder, his tackles extra rough. His opponents walk away wincing and cursing him under their breath, but it only makes him preen when he glances over to find her watching him, hardly able to pull her eyes away. Price would call it peacocking. He wouldn’t be wrong. 

He approaches her himself at the end of the match before she’s had time to pack up and leave, leaning over the railing separating the field from the stands, covered in sweat and grass stains and bleeding from his right eyebrow.

She stares up at him wide eyed, looking a little lost for words. “Hi?”

“Got somewhere to be?” he asks, blunt. He’s never had it in him for pleasantries. Why waste time when he can see even now the way her eyes rove over his chest appreciatively? 

“…No,” she finally answers, shaking her head. “Just home for supper.”

“Look like you could use a good fuck. Come round back with me?”

The blatant proposition makes her eyes widen, but Simon doesn’t see the problem. Figures if she doesn’t have a man, there’s no issue with him trying out for the part. He waits her out though, vaguely admiring the pert shape of her mouth, lips round with shock. 

Finally they come back together and she chews on her lower lip nervously, caught off-guard but considering it. He doesn’t hold it against her. His bird’s pretty enough, but he doubts she ever puts herself in the position to be asked. He sees the yes in her eyes before she says it.

Still, he enjoys the way she stutters it out softly, eyes downcast. Simon doesn’t bother with his goodbyes to the guys still on the field before ushering her out of the arena and down the hall to the locker rooms with a hand on her back. He drags her into the first empty supply closet he finds, locking the door behind them. She breathes a bit heavily, almost stumbling over her feet, and that’s the eagerness he’s been looking for. Proof his bird’s just as hungry as him. 

She definitely is, Simon thinks, smug when he hoists her up and her legs wrap around his waist without a second thought, her eyes already glazed over. Like she’s been waiting for this for weeks, cunt already sopping wet when he nudges her panties to the side with his knuckles and buries his cock into her. She grips him like a vice, slack jawed and whimpering into the stretch. He likes that. He likes it more when she digs her nails deep into his back, leaving her mark behind. 

“C’mon, don’t get shy on me,” Simon huffs into her neck when she tries to grab his hair instead, what little of it she can. He stares with eyes half-lidded at the way her tits bounce with each thrust. “I like it rough.”

She clenches up at that, dripping wet. Almost a shame that he couldn’t get his mouth on her first. He’ll have to follow her back home like the mongrel he is, mess her pretty bedsheets up and make her scream until she can’t even face the neighbours the next day. 

He doesn’t need her to tell him to know that she’s a good girl, doesn’t do this ever. Only for him. He can tell by how tight of a screw she is, practically purring in his arms; it’s a fight to bully his cock into her. It’s nice when she stutters it out though, strokes his ego the right way. 

“D-didn’t think you’d notice me,” she says, all shy even with her legs spread. 

“Hard not to, pet,” Simon teases, endeared by her soft edges. His slot right in, if not a bit jaggedly. “Been panting after it for a while, haven’t ya?”

“I just wanted to get out of the flat for a bit,” she whispers.

That shifts his perception of her a bit. Infinitesimally so, but still. He didn’t expect the bird to have a lonely flame in her heart. 

“Well, I noticed,” he grunts, and then bends to suck at the salty skin at the crook of her neck before pumping a load into her.

She’s a real good girl. Comes nice on his cock and muffles her whine by biting into his shoulder. He can’t wait until he’s covered in her bites, until his nipples hurt from making her chew on them and his neck is littered with hickeys like a schoolboy. 

Taking her home is easy enough after that. She lets him drive them both back to her place, handing him the keys with a little yawn when he tucks her into the passenger seat of her own car all limp and pliant. 

And he’s right, of course. He makes a right mess of her bed come morning. 

When he leaves after a morning fuck in the shower and breakfast, the cold sinks into his stomach like a lead weight. The fist in his chest is clenched as ever; Simon hadn’t noticed it loosen in the bird’s presence, but he feels it now drawn tight again. Maybe he thought fucking her would finally shake her from his head, but instead it’s made it worse somehow. The lonely flame in his own chest flickers.

He stands in the middle of the sidewalk and thinks it over while angry nine-to-fivers snap at him before really taking him in and scurrying along. Then he turns back around, heading back the way he came.

The next time Simon sees her in the stands, he feels his smile like a phantom limb. He doesn’t have to ask to know she’s there for him.

[amu-says-hav-says]

I can’t believe I went through all of Season 2 assuming Nina was the stand-in for Crowley when you actually pay attention it’s so CLEAR that she’s Aziraphale. I was tricked by her spiky, sarcastic, cynical outer shell and lulled into a false sense of security by Maggie’s bubbly optimism and wholesome goodness, because on the surface they reflect the ineffable husbands perfectly, in their personalities, their aesthetics, even many of their actions and morals. but not, and this is the real key, when it comes to their “relationship”. but those first impressions really had me damn fooled. 

I missed the blatantness of Nina’s “we’re just friends. actually we’re not friends. we barely know each other.” the same thing Aziraphale said in season 1.  the way he still struggles to quantify their friendship when Nina asks. Nina’s sarcasm when Crowley asks about rain and awnings because it worked for him (we all know it LMAO). hell, that whole convo the girls have in the rain is so AziraCrow (“I know. I’m not your type” “...You have no idea” hits so much harder the second time, help meeeee.) “Lindsay” maybe being symbolic of Heaven and Aziraphale’s toxic relationship with them and their abuse? (the handwritten text messages in red pen make me think of angry notes on paperwork, anyone else?) because Crowley has never actually cared about what Hell thinks of him, just not getting into trouble (or him or Aziraphale getting hurt). Maggie is always chasing Nina. NINA NEVER GOES IN THE RECORD STORE. Just like Crowley always goes to the bookstore, to Aziraphale, Zira NEVER WENT TO THE FLAT (apart from The Swap but that doesn’t count imo). Crowley has always chased Zira, not the other way around. Always there to rescue him, always going to him for company, always relying on their shared connection, always US. OUR SIDE. All through season one, he comes to Zira every time to work together, never trying to work alongside Hell in any way that isn’t to save their skins or Earth, while Zira hides things from Crowley because he STILL thinks Heaven is ultimately good and will do the right thing if he can just show them. fix it from the inside. 

Maggie working up the courage to finally say something, to put herself out there, while Nina is utterly oblivious and then when she does realise Maggie has feelings, becoming standoffish, putting up that barrier, fighting it, denying it, ITS SO CROWLEY AND AZIRAPHALE IN THAT ORDER. the way I was fooled into thinking Nina’s trust issues are Crowley because he does have trust issues ofc he does BUT Crowley has ALWAYS TRUSTED AZIRAPHALE. has always relied on him. has always been hurt when Aziraphale doesn’t immediately reciprocate the way he expects (the holy water request, the bandstand, the “off in the stars” etc). he’s always the one putting himself forward. Aziraphale has always been the one to second guess everything, to fight their connection, their similarities, their friendship. the girls really made me think it was going to be okay when they sat Crowley down, even as my inner sirens were going haywire about Metatron interfering, they were telling Crowley he just needs to open up and it’ll all work out BUT HE’S ALREADY AT THAT POINT. he may not say it, and by gosh is that part of their damn problem, but he’s always SHOWN IT. he’s not Nina who needs time to heal and recover from her broken trust, he’s always been Maggie believing it doesn’t matter, they’ll end up together in the end anyway AND I WALKED RIGHT INTO THE TRAP THAT THIS MEANT THEY WERE GOING TO BE OKAYYYYYYYYYYY

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anthology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist

cw: menstruation (not graphic), afab anatomy

Part 4: “Girl Problems”

You shift in the office chair, stomach lurching uncomfortably. It’s been bothering you today - groaning and moaning nonstop. So far you blamed it on the suspicious chicken salad you got from the discount grocery store. You took every stomach soother you could, all the way down to chugging tea on the hottest day of spring so far.

With a rather pathetic groan you stand to meander your way to the bathroom. Surely sitting on the pot will help - at least as a placebo. Just as you do, though, a very distinct wet feeling makes itself known. You freeze, briefly, as if it will go away if you stand still enough.

“Ah, fuck!” You gasp, grabbing your purse and jogging down the hall to the single bath stall and popping the lock shut.

As soon as you sit, you let out a small sigh of relief. At least you caught it before you turned your underwear into a total crime scene. You’d rather not have to explain to John why you need to go home and change. You dig through your bag to your usual pocket of various supplies. From lotion to a sewing kit. It never hurts to be prepared.

Except, as you rifle around, you’re not finding your usual stash. There should be at least three in here… when did-?

The very loud, distinct memory of a girl at a bar stopping you while canvassing for some sanitary products hits you like a train.

“Whatever you’ve got I’ll take.” She practically begged. So, you handed them all over because got forbid someone get stranded during the most hellish week of the month. Like you are now.

You make a deep, frustrated noise in your throat and bury your face in your hands. You’ve been meaning to put a basket of backup wipes, pads, and tampons in the little bathroom cabinet - not just for you but for customers, too. It just kept getting pushed off when you got busy with other things.

Shit. What are you gonna do? If you put your pants back on you’ll just bleed through them in ten minutes. Cursed with a heavy flow (or blessed with a strong connection to the moon, as your former hippie roommate insisted.) Less time than that, probably, based on the vicious cramp that travels from your lower back to pelvis. You won’t be able to get to the corner store with out leaving a war crime in your path.

John’s the only person in the studio right now. He doesn’t have a client for another hour or so but you’d rather die than tell your hot boss you’re bleeding everywhere. For a few, quiet moments, you violently bounce your knee and go through every possibility. Maybe you’ll suddenly turn into the flash and you can get home before anyone even notices. You don’t really have much of a choice, do you?

With another groan you pull your phone from your pocket, thumb hovering over his contact for just a few beats too long while you work up the courage.

>> ok so this is terrible

>> im so sorry

>> but im having girl problems and am stuck in the bathroom

>> im so sorry this is so unprofessional

Girl problems? What are you? In fucking middle school? Before you can send yet another in a long string of planned apologies, John answers.

J >> How can I help?

>> i dont have any products on me

>> meant to stock the bathroom

>> sorry

J >> Stop apologizing

J >> What kind do you use? I’ll go to the corner store up the street

You breathe out a sigh of relief, still nervously gnawing at your lip as you send him what you need with an example picture (just in case) and profusely insist you’ll pay him back. John refuses. You’ll just have to sneak the cash in his tips or something.

It isn’t long before you hear the front doorbell ring, heavy footsteps, then a gentle tap on the bathroom door. “Y’alright, love?”

You perk up. “John, I’m so sorry-“

“Didn’t ask if you were sorry. Asked if you were alright.”

You snort. “Yeah…”

“I’m goin’ to unlock the door to slide these in. No lookin’ I swear.” John says. As if you were worried about that. You trust John. More than maybe any other man you’ve known (not that the bar is very high.) It’s nice of him to say, though. The door barely cracks open, just enough for him to toss the box to you across the floor and shut it immediately. You barely even see his arm. “That all you need?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” You murmur, bending awkwardly and snatching up the box. “I’m really sorry. I know it’s not really… appropriate.”

“Love, it’s normal. It happens. Just get y’self situated.” John taps the door once before you hear his footsteps drift down the hall toward the front.

You feel a bit skittish the rest of the day. You know it’s stupid. John’s a grown man and it’s a natural thing that happens and it’s fine. He said it’s fine. If it wasn’t fine you probably wouldn’t still look up to him the way that you do - the way that you have since you came here. The way everyone else seems to. Even so, you step around him a little wider than usual on your way out - keeping your head hung low and both hands tightly gripping your purse.

You chew your lip, shifting in place as he locks the front door. “Look, John, I-“

“If you apologize again I’m gonna fire you.” John mutters, pulling on the door to make sure it’s properly secured. There’s humor in it, though, the corners of his lips quirked up slightly.

You scoff, still not quite able to meet his eye.

“Sweetheart, look at me.” When you don’t move fast enough, apparently, he tilts your head up with a light touch. His eyes are so warm despite their icy blue shade. Sparkly in the setting sun. “Any man worth his breath wouldn’t give a shite. I’m sorry if that hasn’t been your experience, but really, it’s fine. I’ll help you out a thousand times over if y’need.”

“Okay…” You murmur, suddenly very distracted by the feeling of his fingers touching your chin, light as is it. You pull away and clear your throat, hoping he doesn’t notice the growing heat in your cheeks. “Well, uh, see you tomorrow, then.”

John nods, still smiling. “Sleep well, dove.”

When you come in the next day, you expect to get teased. A snide comment or a sideways look. You would have at any other job you’d worked - especially one with all men. All giggling and poking at you like a bear they know can’t bite back. No one says a thing outside of their usual greetings when you make your way to the front desk, though. Johnny pinches your hip like normal, Simon greets you with his new pun of the day, Kyle gives you a distracted wave over the hum of his practice gun. John doesn’t bat an eye when he says hello and checks in about the plan for the day.

You open the bottom drawer that you usually tuck your purse into, pausing before you set it inside. At the bottom, neatly tied together with a piece of twine, sits a king size chocolate bar and a pack of Midol.

If John notices the way you become extra smiley after that discovery, he doesn’t comment.

A/N: This was very self-indulgent but I’m having a bad time over here and need to be saved.

[99woez]

love is a dog ᰔᩚ j.sc

warnings. smut, boyfriend!sungchan, established relationship, unprotected sex, play wrestling, half a size kink if you squint, i love sungchan!

wc. 4k

summary. despite never winning, you love play fighting with your big and strong boyfriend.

You told him not to take it easy on you this time.

“Get off!”

“Get me off,” Sungchan laughs from above you, having you pinned to his mattress on your stomach. It’s all a game to him, and, technically, this is a game, but it’s a game you’re losing, so you’re not having as great of a time as you imagined. You scoff at his word choice, reaching behind you to swat pathetically at his side. You can’t even tell what parts of him you’re hitting, but you're making an impact. Barely.

“Let me roll over–”

“That’s not how wrestling works.”

“This isn’t wrestling. I’m your girlfriend.” 

Sungchan scoffs, blowing his lips together to make a “Pfft!” sound that makes you sigh.

“My girlfriend that literally asked me to wrestle and not go easy on her. You literally asked for this.” His hand presses harder into your back for a moment, making you whine and scrunch your eyes shut. The mattress began to feel unpleasant against your cheek even though the feeling of his weight on top of you felt nice. Really nice. Sungchan was so big and warm that even the smallest touch made you feel like you were on fire. Right now, you feel as if you’re in a burning building, suffocating on thick grey smoke, but you’re enjoying every second of it.

“I’m still going easy on you, by the way,” Sungchan adds after a beat of silence, “You couldn’t take me really not going easy on you. I think you’d break.”

“Oh shut up,” You huff, attempting to roll over once again but are blocked by your boyfriend’s weight on your back. You groan, hitting the sheets with your fist, hearing Sungchan laugh at your frustration. You momentarily lift your head from the bed, only to have him shove it back down immediately. You gasp at the sudden aggression, quickly reaching back to grab onto his thigh just to ground yourself for a minute. Your head was spinning, and your heart was beating a million beats per minute right in your throat, but you loved it.

The air shifts after that. Both of you feel it. You can’t help but to smirk slightly.

“You liked that…” You sing to him with a widening grin. He slides his hand off the back of your head to the middle of your back again as he inhales through his teeth.

“Yeah, you seem pretty into it too.” He begins to rock his hips against your bottom, and you let out a breathy moan. It's not a loud one, but he can hear it. His free hand finds its way down to your ass, squeezing gently before sliding his large calloused hands back to your hips. 

As his hands find their way to your hips, they instinctively tilt you up a bit, making the friction between your bodies increase tenfold. His fingers press into your flesh gently but firmly, and you let out a soft moan. You rub your lips together, looking up at the ceiling before looking back in his direction.

Sungchan squeezes your hips again, pushing up your shirt to reveal the landscape of your back. Instantly, you feel yourself get hot even with the cool air of his ceiling fan hitting your skin. You try to lift your head, but Sungchan shoves you back down, his full hand nearly taking over your face, making you gasp. You try to push against him and free yourself from his grasp, but he doesn’t budge, just chuckling as you squirm helplessly against his grasp.

You twist your hips against him, inhaling sharply through your teeth when you feel his cock hardening through his sweatpants. “You get hard so easily,” You huff with a chuckle, reaching back to grab his arm. Sungchan easily pins your arm behind your back, pressing himself harder against your ass in a desperate attempt to relieve some of the tension in his pants.

“Sorry, you’re hot.”

“You always get hard when we wrestle.”

“Yeah, well,” Sungchan shrugs, lifting his hand from your head to push your hair out of your face. “If you had a dick, you’d get hard wrestling with a hot girl too. Don’t act better than me.” He pulls you up by the back of your shirt with ease. You laugh at how easy it is for him to lift and toss you around, sitting on your knees and turning around to face him. When you look at him, a big and dumb smile takes over his face, brown eyes sparkling when he looks down at you.

You love how he looks at you like you’re the best thing to step into his life. You feel so overcome with love that you can’t stop yourself from shoving him back on the bed with a giggle, hearing him laugh when his back hits the mattress. You easily climb on top of him, reaching for his arms to pin him down, but he goes for your waist, wrapping his hands around you and tossing you on your back with ease. You try to recover faster than last time, but he’s too fast, too big, and demanding, immediately crawling on top of you and pinning your flailing arms above your head.

“Damn, two for two,” Sungchan teases down at you with a laugh. He leans down to presumably kiss you, but you turn your head with a whine. He clicks a tongue at your fit, letting go of one of your wrists to grab your cheeks and jerk your face towards him. He looks so ridiculous when he’s pissed. His dark brows furrowed, his thick lips frowning, you can’t help to chuckle at him. He shakes your face softly. You clench your thighs around his hips.

“Don’t be a brat,” He whines, his high voice not matching his mean face. You smirk up at his desperation, humming up at him and pouting your lips up at him. He whines again, pressing his hips against yours again. “Kiss me.”

You blink up at him like you don’t understand, a slow smile growing on your lips when he huffs at you again. You love his frustration. You just think he’s so cute when he’s frustrated. “You should’ve let me win if you wanted to kiss–” He slams his lips to yours, cutting you off swiftly with a hard and demanding kiss. You whimper into the kiss, brows knitting when he presses in deeper, his chest pressing against yours as he sighs into your mouth. Your body heats up again. He’s suffocating you, but in the best way. You love it when he nearly crushes you, taking what he wants because he can, and you’ll let him. You let him every time.

You feel his hips jerk into yours. You gasp at the collision but smile against his lips. You can feel his cock straining against his sweatpants already. It was never hard to work Sungchan up. You teased him about it often, which seemed to get him off more. He ruts his hips into yours again, an airy moan leaving his full lips as he does so. The shorts you’re wearing begin to drive you crazy, wanting to feel all of him with no barriers.

Your eyes flicker across his face before landing on him, humming softly. “Are we going to have sex?” You ask like it isn’t obvious, an excited smile growing on your lips as he mocks your humming, leaning in to take your lips against his again, biting your bottom lip softly.

“You wanna have sex with me?” He teases, giggling against your lips as he pulls back, allowing you both to laugh at full volume as you nod your head.

“Feel how wet I am right now. It's crazy.” You grab his wrist and put it on the hem of your shorts. He takes it from there, sliding his hand inside your shorts and dipping into your underwear. You bite your bottom lip when you feel his slender fingers against your folds, gasping quietly when he presses the tips of his fingers against your wet entrance with a groan. He looks down at his hand in your pants, groaning again at how the fabric moves because of his fingers.

“Fuck…All from me tossing you around?” You nod at his question, eyes fluttering shut the more his fingers trace and rub over your hole, gathering your juices to slick up his fingers. With practiced ease, his fingers slide up to your clit and rub circles into the sensitive nub, making your back arch up off the bed slightly as a moan escapes your lips.

“I like when you get all…It’s fun to see how strong you are.” You try to explain, but your brain is easily fogging up with euphoria, which makes you rutt into Sungchan’s hand for more friction. Sungchan chuckled at your confession, his eyes never leaving your face as he continued rubbing at your clit.

“You like how strong I am, baby?” You preen at the nickname, nodding as your eyes open to meet his gaze, smiling fondly at him as you do so. Sungchan licks his lips at the sight of you beneath him, his free hand taking your face into his hand and stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“And you’re throwing a fit about me getting hard,” Sungchan retorts, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he begins to spread your wetness around with slow, tantalizing movements. The feeling of you so wet and ready for him never failed to amaze him. “You’re just as turned on as I am.”

“I can’t deny that.” You smile at him, moaning softly when he slides a finger inside of you experimentally. He’s watching your reaction, his brown eyes intense and focused. “Seriously, we should wrestle more often.”

His response is a hearty laugh, his chest shaking beneath you. “I think I’d like that,” he murmurs, his thumb circling your clit lazily while another finger joins the first inside of you. His movements are slow and deliberate.

Your back arches off the bed, and you whimper again, feeling incredibly sensitive. It’s always like this with Sungchan – you’re always so responsive to him and eager for everything he gives you. “Sungchan…” you moan out his name, your voice thick with lust.

“Shh.” His other hand finds its way to your mouth, silencing any more protests that might have escaped your lips by sliding two fingers into your mouth. He’s so consuming, filling you from every place he could, making you practically melt into the mattress, moaning around his digits before sucking on them softly. The feel of his fingers inside you makes your head spin, and judging by the satisfied grin on his face, he knows it.

“Look at me,” he commands suddenly, a bit harsher than before. You obey instantly, looking up at him even as stars dance in front of your vision from the pleasure he’s giving you.

His gaze locks onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart falter within your chest. "That's it," he murmurs, his voice husky. His fingers are a constant pressure, curling and moving inside you in ways that have your eyes rolling back into your head.

But he doesn't want that; he wants you to watch him, wants to see the effect he has on you mirrored in your eyes as they stare back at him.

"I love seeing you like this," he tells you, grinning cockily. He pushes his fingers deeper, silently daring you to break eye contact. But you don't; you just whimper around the fingers in your mouth and take it, staring into his eyes as he stretches and fills you. “Just so pretty. All mine, too,” He whispers, ducking his head down to scatter kisses across your neck and chest, his fingers slipping from your mouth to hold your waist with a soft moan at how your skin tasted against his lips. Your fingers tangle in his silky hair, beginning to breathe heavier as his fingers continue to fuck into you with a newfound vigor. 

"More…" you breathe out in a heady whisper, one hand slipping down to cover his where it's still stroking over your clit in tight circles. Sungchan's deep chuckle vibrates against your skin before he obliges, sliding yet another finger inside of you, the stretch making you gasp and writhe beneath him. 

"Needy, aren’t you?" he teases.

You can only nod in response, the coil in your belly growing tighter and tighter with each delicious thrust of his fingers inside you. You feel your thighs tremble when he curls his fingers inside you, a long whine leaving your lips as you stare into Sungchan’s eyes. His jaw is dropped in awe of you, moaning softly and deeply at the obscene wet sounds coming from between your legs.

"That's my girl," Sungchan coos as he watches your face contort with pleasure. He loves every single one of your expressions – the way you scrunch your nose when you're trying to hold back a whimper, how your eyes flutter closed when he thrusts harder than expected. You’re an angel to him even when you claw and scratch at his arms.

He pulls his fingers back just to drive them forward once more, hitting that spot inside you that makes your body jolt with pleasure. His name is like a mantra on your lips, coming out in either soft whispers or high gasps. He bites his bottom lip when he hears you, dipping down to rest his forehead on yours to be closer to you. You can’t help but smile at the proximity, tipping your head up to nuzzle your nose against his with an airy giggle. Sungchan chuckles at your affection, kissing your forehead as his fingers continue to drill into you.

"Sungchan... please," you whimper, digging your nails into his forearms. You want– no, need – more of him. You want to feel him all around you, consume & take every bit of you until there's nothing left but him.

With a low chuckle, Sungchan gives a final swirl of his thumb over your clit before pulling his hand away entirely. You whine at the loss of contact, but it's short-lived when Sungchan murmurs, “I know, baby. I’ve got you.” You can almost see the smirk in his voice as he says it, your eyes too hazy with lust to notice anything but the presence of his warmth.

He moves away from you just for a moment, the sound of clothes rustling filling the room as he discards his own shirt and pants. He looks down at you, his eyes drinking in your disheveled state before his body blankets yours again. His torso pressing against yours, hard lines and warm skin meeting your softer curves, his fingers tracing light patterns over your hips as if he’s memorizing the contours of your body. 

His lips find yours in a searing kiss as he grinds down against you, the feeling of his length pressing into your bare thigh making you groan into his mouth. His hand slips between your bodies to align himself at your entrance, teasing you for a moment before pushing in with a low grunt. You whimper against his lips as his cock splits your walls open for him, brows knitting together at the way your body stretches to take him. He’s so big. Every time he fucks you, it feels like the first time. It’s mind-numbing. You can’t even imagine fucking another man after having Sungchan for so long. You swear he’s made for you.

"Look at me," he orders softly, his voice laced with need. His gaze is demanding yet tender as his hand takes your chin between his fingers to tip your head up. You let out a quiet sigh, opening your eyes to meet his gaze, unable to stop yourself from smiling at him. He’s so lovely, so warm. You feel nothing but love when you look at him. Sungchan bites his bottom lip to stop his smile from growing when he sees you smile, sinking himself further into you until his hips are flush against yours.

He stays still for a moment, letting you adjust to him. The both of you are panting heavily, your hearts beating in sync as you feel him throbbing inside you. There’s an unspoken conversation as you lock eyes, understanding each other without any words needed.

“Alright?” he asks, his voice a low purr against the shell of your ear that sends shivers down your spine. You give a nod, your fingers clutching onto his shoulders, silently urging him to move. Sungchan chuckles softly at your impatience, giving you a teasing nip on the neck before pulling back slightly and thrusting back into you with a slow yet forceful push.

A strangled moan escapes from your lips as pleasure washes over you. His every thrust is calculated - slow, easy, building up the sensation until it crashes over you like waves. Your mind goes fuzzy with pleasure, your nails dragging down his back as his pace increases.

“You’re so tight,” he grunts against your skin, his lips nipping against your collarbone. His hands roam your body like they’ve mapped out every inch of you – and they have. He’s marked every part of you in one way or another, claiming you as his own in every way he possibly can. You can only whine in response, and you can barely form words at this point.

"Faster, Sungie. Please," you gasp out between heavy breaths, and he complies without hesitation.

His hips snap into yours at an unforgiving pace now, hitting that sweet spot inside of you again and again. Your legs wrap around his hips tighter in surrender, pulling him closer. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, accompanied by your shared gasps and moans of absolute pleasure. His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips as he anchors himself, his teeth grazing your neck with each sharp thrust.

"Yeah? Like that?" he rasps, feeling an accomplished smirk spread across his lips when you respond with a hoarse cry and an eager nod. 

Sungchan pulls out almost completely, only to slam back in, squeezing your hips hard enough to leave bruises. You wince at the mix of pain and pleasure, your muscles clenching around him. It’s too much but not enough all at once. He always leaves bruises even when he doesn’t mean to. You have to wonder if he knows his own strength. Your world narrows down to him: Sungchan and his body on top of yours, his hands leaving trails of fire where they touch you, his cock filling you with every thrust.

The coil in your gut tightens further, warning you of the fast-approaching release. "I wanna cum," you whine desperately, your hand fumbling between your bodies to press against your clit. However, Sungchan bats away your hand with a low chuckle.

"Yeah? You wanna cum, baby?" he taunts with a laugh, replacing your hand with his own with a smirk. His thumb begins to stroke over your sensitive bud in teasing circles that make you buck your hips up into him. His pace increases, rougher now, almost punishing as he chases his own release.

Your name tumbles from his lips like a prayer, desperate and ragged as he feels himself on the edge. His words spur you on, encouraging you to chase after that high that's just out of reach. 

You nod vigorously, your eyes squeezed shut and a low moan rumbling up from your chest as he continues to move inside you. The friction between your bodies is almost too much to bear, the sticky heat coating both of you, making it impossible not to feel his skin slipping against yours. You're drowning in sensation, the world around you fading away as all that matters is this moment with Sungchan.

His thrusts grow more brutal and hard, his hips slamming into yours in a rhythm that matches the thudding of your heart. He's lost in this feeling, too, his mouth open with every breath that he sucks in between gritted teeth. The taste of you fills his mouth as he kisses and nips along your jawline and collarbone, leaving marks that will only remind you of this moment.

You push back against him, wanting more friction, more contact - like he's a part of you now, forever entwined together. His lips find yours again, hot and hungry as his tongue slips into your mouth to dance with yours. It's messy but perfect; it always has been with him.

Your nails dig into his shoulders harder now, urging him to go deeper or faster or harder - you can't tell anymore which one you crave more. The sound of skin smacking against skin echoes around the room, mixing with the wet smacks of your kisses and the ragged breaths you take together.

Sungchan tilts his head back suddenly, releasing your lips with a soft pop.

With a final slap of skin against skin, you both come together, your bodies shuddering and twitching as pleasure overwhelms you. His hips snap against yours with each thrust, lips parted in a silent scream of ecstasy while his thumb flicks over your clit in perfect rhythm. Stars dance before your eyes as you feel your core clench around him, milking him out with each contraction. Your walls flutter and spasm, trying to hold onto him until the very last moment when he groans deeply, filling you completely.

"Fuck," he mumbles as his hot load coats your insides, his lips brushing against your ear. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you tightly against the force of his release, making you moan loudly as you come apart around him. Your legs quiver beneath him, his weight pressing down on you as if to mark you as his own. Sungchan's thrusts slow down to soothe the aftershocks rocking through your body as he holds himself deep inside of you, you panting breaths mingling together in the quiet room.

Chest heaving and sweat forming on your skin where they touch, Sungchan pulls out with a soft whimper of displeasure from both of you. The cool air feels like a slap in the face compared to how heated you are inside and out. Your walls cling to him for one last moment before releasing their grip, leaving a trail of stickiness between the two of you. You let out a long exhale, still catching your breath, as he rolled off of you to lie beside you on the bed.

He places soft kisses along the marks he left on your hips and collarbone, a smile playing on his lips when he finds your eyes on him. You still struggle to catch your breath, head falling back with a laugh as you cover your eyes with your arm. You hear him laugh as hell, crawling back up to uncover your eyes and crash his lips to yours in a fiery kiss, both of you still smiling against each other’s lips.

“We should wrestle more often,” Sungchan jokes against your lips. You roll your eyes with another tired laugh, hitting his chest playfully.

“You need to let me win one time. ‘See what happens,” you tease with a raise of your eyebrows, watching him raise his interest with a cute hum before leaning in and pecking your lips once, twice, three times before pulling back and kissing your cheek. You can’t stop the giggles from leaving your lips as his arm wraps around your waist.

“Alright,” he says, his voice teasing and light. “Next time, I’ll let you win.” His hand comes up to brush a few strands of hair from your face, tucking them behind your ear with a gentle sweep of his fingers. You blink up at him playfully, daring him to hold on to that statement.

“Promise?” you ask with a twinkle in your eye. The challenge is unspoken but clear as day between you.

“Promise.”

[azrielsrealmate]

if I don’t put my hands over you right now…

azriel x reader

summary: your night in Rita’s was supposed to end with Azriel between your legs, not Azriel beating up your abusive ex.

warnings: suggestiveness, fight, blood, injuries, dark themes if you squint, SLIGHT trauma from an abusive relationship.

word count: 2.7k

Yk when at the High Lords meetings Azriel just snaps when Eris speaks about Mor..? Yeah, I liked that scene way too much. So here this is😸

Rita’s is packed, the heat radiating from every dancing body, the rhythm of the music pulsing through the floor and vibrating in your bones. You've spent nearly half an hour letting yourself go to the rhythm, your hips swaying in time, your eyes half-closed as Mor laughs and pulls you closer to the crowd. You're intoxicated, not just by the liquor you've consumed, but by the power you feel in being so aware of your body, so heated and alive in this dress that hugs you tightly and leaves so little to the imagination.

You spent hours getting ready. Three hours in the bathroom, meticulously shaving, slathering yourself with coconut creams until your skin was soft and fragrant, every detail of you arranged with almost cruel precision. And while part of you did it just to look good, to feel pretty, you know there’s something more. A deeper desire, the real reason you spent three hours locked away like a maniac.

The reason hasn’t taken his eyes off you since he first saw you that night. Azriel. It's always been Azriel.

The push and pull between you two has been constant, furtive glances and subtle touches, half-spoken words and smiles that hide more than they reveal.

You know he’s watching you, you feel it even when you’re not looking, a sensation that burns the back of your neck, and anticipation grows with every passing moment, tingling under your skin. A pang in your gut—intuition, they call it—you think something is going to happen. Naively, you think it might be good, really good, a reward for those three hours in the bathroom pampering yourself.

The music shifts to a slower, deeper rhythm, and the heat in the room seems to intensify. And you really can’t take it anymore, your breath is quick and shallow, and you hate the thought of breathing in the scent of sweat from constantly moving bodies, so you decide it’s time for a break, for a cold drink to refresh you.

You pull away from Mor with a smile and head to the bar, enjoying the slight coolness that the nonexistent breeze offers. At least there aren't people blocking everything in your view anymore.

Just as you're about to order your drink, you feel it. That familiar scent of cedar and mist, an aroma that always makes you turn your head, that wraps you in a feeling of safety, of desire, and something darker. Your heart beats faster with it, urging you to be afraid, but you're smarter than that. And then, the hands. Firm, confident, and so large on your hips that you fantasize about what they could do to you, they settle on your hips and pull you back against a hard, unyielding chest.

Though his chest isn’t the only thing that’s incredibly hard.

You laugh softly, knowing who it is without even having to look. You can feel the strength in him, the tension built up in the way he pulls you so desperately against him. He’s so close, and he leans down so that his mouth is right by your ear, and when he speaks, his voice is a low growl that wraps around every inch of your skin, making you exhale, your skin prickling. You press your thighs together.

“If I don’t put my hands on you right now, I’m going to put them around the neck of every man looking at you.”

The whole world seems to stop for a second. Your breath catches, and the pulse in your throat pounds. You knew there would be consequences tonight, but the reality of it hits you like a punch. Azriel, always controlled, always restrained, is on the edge, and the idea of that control breaking… is intoxicating. You smell it, so thick you can taste it, musky. God, you’d give anything to have it on your tongue for real.

“You don’t have to be so dramatic,” you murmur, but your voice trembles, betraying you. Because deep down, you like it. You like that he’s so close, that he’s so vulnerable with you, that he feels something so fierce that it drives him to act. Your words seem to only provoke him further because the grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into the fabric of your dress.

“Dramatic doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he whispers against your ear, his warm breath trailing over your skin. “You… have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

The trembling inside you turns into a wave, and you can barely contain it. It’s an effort not to roll your eyes in pure pleasure, not to rub your thighs together to get some friction.

“And what are you going to do about it?” you whisper, challenging him. Although to you, it’s not a challenge, it’s an offering. So full of need that you have to mask it.

Azriel doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he turns you, gently but firmly, until you’re face to face with him. His eyes, as dark as the night itself, are lit with a mix of emotions that make you tremble. Slowly, his gaze lowers to your dress, the slight leopard lace that gathers at the top, just enough to give him a tantalizing view of the skin you so carefully prepared.

“This dress…” he murmurs, his voice deep and laden with meaning. “It’s on purpose. You knew what it would do, what it would do to me.” His hand moves up, slowly, from your hip to the small portion of bare skin on your shoulder, brushing it with a tenderness that contrasts with the fire in his eyes. “If you wore it for me, then I have the right to take it off you.”

Your lips part, words trapped in your throat as you try to process the intensity of what he’s saying. But before you can respond, his mouth is on yours, stealing your breath, demanding more than you thought you were willing to give.

The kiss is hard, fierce. His tongue claims your mouth as his own, exploring and savoring; you barely have time to keep up with him.

His hands roam over your body, exploring the skin you’ve prepared for him, and you cling to his shoulders because your knees are trembling. It’s as if the world around you disappears, leaving only Azriel, his mouth on yours, his body firm against yours, and the fire that heats your skin and spreads to his.

When he finally pulls away, you’re both panting, and he looks at you as if he can’t decide whether he wants to kiss you again or carry you out of Rita’s right then and there.

“Let’s go,” he says, his voice more of an order than a request, and although his tone is firm, there’s a plea in his eyes. A need that mirrors your own. And it’s completely overwhelming, you can only nod. And your legs move when your mind is still dazed from the kiss, his hand on your waist as if he can sense that.

Azriel comes to a sudden stop, just before you can cross the threshold of Rita’s, when a cold, venom-laden voice rises above the club's noise.

“Already got another man?”

Your heart stops for an instant, the heat of euphoria fading as you recognize the figure approaching. Tall, dark-haired, and gray-eyed, who used to look at you with something you believed was love, but now only shows resentment. Your face hardens at the sight of your ex, and a familiar tension settles in your chest, a reminder of the scars you still carry.

Azriel notices immediately. His grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into your skin possessively. You can feel the tension in him, the way his body prepares to act, to protect you. Azriel’s shadows, always lurking, slip across the floor between you like snakes, dark and threatening until one of them coils around your shoulders.

“We broke up over a year ago, get over it,” you say, your voice tense but firm, maintaining your composure despite the turmoil inside you. You have no intention of giving him the satisfaction of seeing how much his presence affects you, how much Azriel’s grip on your waist is doing for you.

But he laughs, a bitter, hollow sound that makes your stomach churn. He takes a threatening step toward you, and though your body wants to retreat, you stand firm. You know this game. You know he’ll drink and get drunk on the slight fear in your eyes, he’ll go crazy if you back away, he’ll think he has more power than he does, so you force yourself to stay still.

His fists clench, and you see Azriel’s gaze turn lethal, a flash of cold fury that he barely contains.

Your ex doesn’t give you time to respond, the gray of his eyes fixed on Azriel, and his voice comes out filled with disdain, as sharp as a knife. “You’ll find out soon enough, she’s not worth it. All that pretty face, and she’s not even going to suck your…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. He can’t. Because the moment those venomous words leave his mouth, Azriel moves, faster than a blink. You feel the heat of his body leave you for an instant, and then, the sound of impact. A dull, heavy thud reverberates in the air, and you see your ex stagger backward, blood spurting from his nose.

But Azriel doesn't stop there.

The wild gleam in his eyes tells you everything you need to know: he's not going to stop. He doesn't want to stop. With lethal efficiency, he launches himself at your ex again, his fist finding its mark over and over, with a fury that has been simmering for too long, now unleashed in an unstoppable torrent.

And you... do nothing to stop him. You could always say you were paralyzed, that you didn't know what to do, that it caught you by surprise because you remain there, your feet rooted to the ground as you watch Azriel destroy the man who had hurt you time and again. You should scream, you should intervene, but you don't. Because a part of you—that dark and wounded part—feels a perverse satisfaction watching him get what he deserves. Each blow seems to erase one of the invisible scars he left you, each groan of pain he emits sounds like justice for the years you lost with him.

Blood splatters the ground, and your ex tries to cover himself, but it’s futile. Azriel is unstoppable, his face transformed into a mask of pure rage, his shadows swirling around him like frenzied beasts, hungry for more.

But then, a giant figure bursts onto the scene, a whirlwind of muscle and strength. Cassian.

In an instant, the General of Rhys’s armies is upon them, his arms encircling Azriel and pulling him back with brutal force. But Azriel fights, his body trying to break free, desperate to keep punishing that man, to make him pay for every word, every insult, every wound he caused you.

"Azriel, stop!" Cassian’s voice booms above the chaos, laden with authority, but also concern. Cassian tightens his grip, his wings spreading to block everyone else’s view, his expression hardened as he uses all his strength to contain his brother.

You barely see it, but you hear him growl, a sound that doesn’t seem human, and for a terrible second, you think he might even turn on Cassian. His shadows swirl, dark and violent, but then, in an almost imperceptible movement, you see Azriel close his eyes, taking deep breaths, struggling with himself, fighting to control his rage.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Azriel relaxes enough for Cassian to release him, though his eyes are still blazing with that fury that makes you tremble. The shadows slowly recede, as if they still want to attack but obey their master.

Your ex lies on the ground, gasping, his face barely recognizable from the beating, but you know he’s conscious. You feel the weight of everyone’s gaze, but you can only look at Azriel. At Azriel, who continues to look at you as if you’re the only person in his world, as if his vision had narrowed to just you.

Cassian holds him by the shoulders, keeping him in place, though it’s no longer necessary. The fight is over, but the air is still charged with tension, so thick that if anyone decided to push too far, it would shatter with the sound of another broken bone.

Azriel steps away from Cassian, his eyes never leaving yours. He takes a step toward you, then another, until he’s standing in front of you, so close you can feel his breath on your skin.

"Are you okay?" His voice is a whisper, rough from the rage, but also filled with that unshakable concern he’s always had for you.

And for the first time in what seems like an eternity, you feel you can breathe again. You nod.

Cassian steps aside, giving one last piercing look at the man on the floor before giving you some space. Azriel remains unmoving, his eyes scanning every inch of your face, searching for any sign that this has affected you more than you admit. But all he sees is your determination.

"Let’s go," you finally say, your voice louder than you expected. You take his hand, his bloodied and bruised knuckles against your skin, and guide him out of Rita’s, away from the curious gazes and the chaos left behind.

————————————

The silence is almost overwhelming as you close the door of your apartment behind you. Azriel stands at the entrance, his eyes still dark with fury, but now the exhaustion and guilt begin to show in his expression. He says nothing, just watches you as you head to the bathroom and fetch the first aid kit. The sound of running water fills the space, but the tension between you is almost tangible.

When you return, you find him standing in the middle of the living room, his gaze lost on the floor. You don’t say anything as you gently take his hand, guiding him to the couch. Azriel allows himself to be led, his wings drooping and his posture relaxed now that the adrenaline has worn off. You can feel lighter yourself.

"Let me see," you whisper, barely a breath. You hold his hand with a softness that contrasts with the brutality of what you just witnessed. His knuckles are bloodied and his hands tremble slightly, though you’re not sure if it’s from the fight or from what he feels now.

He says nothing as you clean the blood, his gaze fixed on your hands, watching every move as if it’s the first time someone has cared for him this way. As if he’s never experienced tenderness before, and the way you’re wiping the blood from his knuckles is presenting it to him on a silver platter. It’s not the first time you’ve done this, but the intimacy of this moment, after what happened, feels different.

"I’m sorry," he murmurs finally, his voice barely a whisper. "I shouldn’t have lost control like that."

Your hands pause for a moment, your eyes meeting his. You see the guilt there, mixed with that smoldering rage that never seems to fully disappear.

"Don’t apologize," you reply firmly, resuming your task. "He deserved it. And... I’m not going to lie, Azriel. Watching him get what he deserved... it wasn’t so bad."

He looks at you, surprised by the confession, but something in your words seems to calm him. He accepts your response, though you know a part of him will always blame himself for losing control. It’s what makes him who he is.

When you finish cleaning and bandaging his knuckles, you keep his hand in yours for a moment longer, savoring the warmth you’ve always found in him. Azriel, who has always been your rock, your protector, now allows himself to be cared for, letting you see that vulnerability he so rarely shows.

"Thank you," he says softly, meeting your gaze with eyes now velvety as he looks at you without worrying about anything else, and his other hand reaching to caress your cheek with a gentleness that contrasts with the brutality of the night.

You don’t respond because there’s no need. Instead, you lean into him, allowing yourself to rest in the warmth of his embrace, in the comfort only he can offer you. Outside, the world keeps spinning, but here, in this small corner of your life, everything is calm.

[pucksandpower]

Champagne Kisses

Lando Norris x Piastri!Reader

Summary: the taste of champagne has never been sweeter than when it’s being poured down your skin in celebration of your boyfriend … too bad your brother didn’t get the memo that these particular festivities were supposed to be private

Warnings: 18+ content

Note: congratulations to my favorite McLaren fan @struggling-with-drivers and all of the other Lando fans who have plenty of reason to celebrate tonight 🫶

The champagne sprays over the sweaty crowd as Lando holds the trophy aloft, a wide grin plastered across his face. This is the moment he’s dreamed of since he was a kid racing karts — his first Formula 1 win.

As the celebrations continue on the podium, Lando’s eyes scan the crowd of papaya below, landing on you watching with a proud smile. He gives you a subtle wink, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. You feel your cheeks flush hot.

Later, once the chaos has died down, you slip away from the McLaren garage and head towards the drivers’ rooms. Glancing around to make sure the coast is clear, you duck inside Lando’s room and lock the door behind you.

“Where’s my winner?” You call out in a singsong voice.

Lando emerges from the bathroom, a white towel slung low around his hips as water droplets cling to his toned torso. “Well, well. If it isn’t my gorgeous supportive girlfriend.” He crosses the room in a few strides, pulling you into a searing kiss.

You melt against him, tangling your fingers in his dampened curls. “I’m so proud of you, babe.”

Lando grins, resting his forehead against yours. “This calls for a celebration.”

He grabs the bottle of champagne leftover from the podium ceremony and pops the cork with a hiss. Taking a swig, he offers it to you. “Your turn, love.”

You accept the bottle, the bubbles tickling your throat as you drink deeply. Lando watches you with hooded eyes, licking his lips unconsciously.

Setting the bottle down, you sink to your knees in front of him. “Let me properly congratulate the newest race winner.”

Lando’s breath hitches as you mouth along the tented towel. “Oh f-fuck, you’re going to be the death of me.”

You smirk up at him. “Not a bad way to go out though, right?”

Pushing the towel aside, you take him into your mouth, swirling your tongue along the silky shaft. Lando groans loudly, fisting a hand in your hair to guide your movements.

“Yes, just like that. God, you’re so good at this.”

You hollow your cheeks, increasing the suction as you bob your head rapidly. His hips snap forwards, driving himself deeper into your willing mouth.

“I’m so close already,” he pants, thrusting erratically. “I want to … can I?”

You just hum in agreement around him, sending delicious vibrations along his length. With a guttural groan, Lando’s release spills down your throat as his thighs tremble.

Pulling back, you swipe your thumb across the corner of your mouth with a satisfied smile. “Mmm, my favorite drink.”

Lando chuckles breathlessly, hauling you up into a filthy kiss, the tang of his arousal sharp on your lips. He grabs the bottle of champagne, tilting it against your lips.

“Open up, darling. Time for a little celebration of our own.”

Dutifully, you part your lips to accept the fizzy stream. It spills over your tongue and down your body, soaking through your clothes in cool rivulets. Lando’s eyes darken with lust as he drinks in the sight of you, sodden and panting.

“Look at you, all messy and debauched. Maybe I should get on the podium more often.”

With a wicked gleam, you shrug off your drenched dress, kicking away your shoes to stand in just your skimpy bra and underwear. “Keep winning and you can do whatever you want to me, champ.”

Lando growls, the bottle forgotten as he crashes his mouth against yours hungrily. You moan into the kiss, nails raking down the tanned planes of his back.

He walks you backwards until your thighs hit the couch, tumbling down with you cradled beneath him. The plush fabric squelches beneath your damp bodies as Lando grinds his rapidly re-hardening length against you shamelessly.

You whine at the delicious friction, arching up to meet his thrusts. “Don’t tease me, Lando.”

“Not a chance,” he murmurs, dragging his teeth along the sensitive column of your throat.

His rough palms cup your breasts, kneading the soft mounds through the flimsy lace. You gasp at the sparks of pleasure, digging your nails into the flexing muscles of his biceps.

Impatiently, you hook a leg around his waist to urge him closer. The scrap of material covering your core does little to dull the scorching heat of him pressing insistently against your slick folds.

“Please, Lando,” you beg shamelessly. “I need you inside me.”

With a groan, he tugs your underwear aside and thrusts home in one slick motion. You both moan loudly at the feeling of being joined so intimately once more.

Lando starts a punishing pace, hips snapping forwards as his cock drives into your fluttering depths over and over. You cling to him, nails digging into his shoulders and leaving crescent marks in the tender skin as euphoric cries spill from your lips.

“God, you feel so good wrapped around me,” Lando pants, dropping his forehead against yours. “My gorgeous, perfect girl. Always ready for me, yeah?”

“Always,” you gasp out between moans. “Only for you, Lando. My race winner.”

He captures your lips in a bruising kiss, all teeth and desperation as his thrusts grow sloppy and erratic. With a final cry, you shatter around his thickness, clenching down hard enough to drag Lando over the edge too.

You clutch at each other through the haze, trembling and sated as your breathing slowly evens out. Lando peppers lazy kisses across your face, tangling his fingers in your sweat-damp hair.

“Love you so much,” he mumbles against your skin. “Can’t believe I get to have you.”

You smile dopily up at him. “Sap. I love you too, my future champion.”

A loud bang at the door startles you both, Lando instinctively rolling to shield you with his body. The handle jiggles fruitlessly before a familiar Australian accent calls out.

“Oi, Lando! You in there, mate? Let me in, I want to celebrate!”

Lando freezes above you, eyes going comically wide. “Oh shit ...” he whispers. “It’s Oscar!”

“Lando?” Oscar’s voice comes again, sharper this time. “Everything okay? Open up!”

You look at Lando in panic, clothes and coverings hopelessly askew. The doorknob rattles more insistently as Oscar tries to force his way in.

“Just one second!” Lando shouts back, grabbing the towel to wrap around his waist as he crosses to the door. He cracks it open a fraction. “Hey mate, what’s up?”

Oscar doesn’t wait for an invitation, shoving his way inside with a wide grin. “Don’t ‘what’s up’ me, you little shit! My teammate finally got a win, time to get messy!”

He stops short, brows shooting up as he takes in the state of disarray. Lando tugs the towel more securely around his hips as Oscar’s gaze lands on your disheveled, half-naked form sprawled on the couch.

You hold your breath, suddenly very aware of your compromising position and state of undress. Lando follows Oscar’s line of sight, wincing as he turns back slowly.

The two teammates stare at each other for a beat before Oscar breaks the silence.

“Is that my fucking sister?”

“Oscar, I can explain-” Lando starts, hands raised placatingly.

But Oscar is already stalking forward, fury etched across his face. “You sick bastard! My teammate and my twin sister?”

He grabs Lando by the shoulders, shoving him back against the wall hard. “I’m going to make sure you never have kids, you piece of shit!”

You scramble upright, clutching your bra to your chest. “Oscar, stop!” You plead, rushing over to insert yourself between the fuming teammates. “It’s not what you think.”

Oscar scoffs, not releasing his grip on Lando’s shoulders. “Not what I think? He had you half-naked and covered in … is that champagne?”

You wince at his disgusted tone. “We’re together, Oscar. We have been for months.”

“Months?” Oscar looks between you and Lando, comprehension and rage warring on his features. “You’ve been sneaking around with my teammate this whole time? Behind my back?”

Lando finally finds his voice. “Look, mate, I didn’t mean any disrespect. You know how much I care about your sister.”

“Care about her?” Oscar laughs bitterly. “Is that what you call bending her over after races? Treating her like some ...”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” you snap, anger flaring. “I’m not some conquest, Oscar. I love him.”

Oscar’s eyes widen at your admission, looking almost wounded. Lando takes your hand, squeezing it tightly as he meets Oscar’s hard stare.

“It’s true,” Lando says quietly. “We’re crazy about each other. Have been for ages.”

“This is … messed up,” Oscar runs a hand through his hair, regarding you both warily. “As teammates, we can’t let this impact the team.”

“It won’t,” you insist. “We’ve kept it professional so far.”

Oscar grimaces as his eyes rake over your state of undress and the clear signs of your activities. “Evidently.”

An awkward silence stretches between you before Lando speaks up again.

“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner. We wanted to, but ...”

“But what?” Oscar demands. “You thought I’d be thrilled my baby sister was sneaking around shagging my teammate?”

You open your mouth to retort but Lando cuts you off, stepping closer to Oscar.

“I know how it looks, and the situation’s not ideal. But I swear on everything, I would never hurt her or disrespect your family like that.” His eyes are deadly serious as he holds Oscar’s stare. “You have to know how much she means to me.”

Oscar’s jaw tenses mulishly for a long moment before he exhales a harsh breath. “If you break her heart, I’ll make sure you can never drive a car again, let alone race one,” he growls.

A hesitant smile tugs at Lando’s lips as you feel relief wash over you. “Deal, mate.”

“Now get some bloody clothes on,” Oscar grimaces, waving a hand vaguely in your direction as he turns away. “Jesus, you two are rank.”

You huff out a laugh, pulling Lando in for a quick kiss before grabbing your discarded clothes.

As Oscar fiddles with the champagne bottle, refusing to tear his eyes away from the ceiling, you share a look with Lando, hearts swelling with love and hope for whatever the future may bring.

Lando Nowins is no more.

[rafecameronssl4t]

All yours || NFL!Rafe Cameron x DCC!reader

Summary: You wearing Rafe’s initials on your necklace during a Cowboy’s game and people speculating 🤭

Warnings: swearing, other than nothing rlly??

Word count: 1,028

A/n: IM SO GLAD YOU GUYS LOVED THUNDERSTRUCK AS MUCH I DID 😆😆😆 If you’ve watched the dcc documentary, who was ur fav??? ALSO send me more nfl!rafe x dcc!reader requests cuz I’m itching to do more even tho I have a few to finish in my drafts lol

MASTERLIST (nfl!rafe x dcc!reader au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

“Isn’t this a bit risky?” you manage to say in between heated kisses, feeling his hands grip the flesh of your thigh wrapped around his hip. Rafe’s smirk is palpable against your neck. “That’s kinda the whole point, babe,” he murmurs, his lips grazing your skin, making you shiver as your own lips curl into a smile. Your eyes flicker to the clock on the wall, and reality hits you.

“Fuck, we gotta go. I can’t be late, and neither can you,” you say hurriedly, pushing yourself off from Rafe. You rush to the mirror, frantically fixing your hair and touching up your makeup. Rafe’s presence is suddenly behind you, his hands wrapping around your waist as his face nestles into your shoulder, inhaling the addictive scent of your perfume.

“You’re so pretty, y’know that right?” he says softly, his breath warm against your skin. You feel your cheeks heat up at his words. “Like, so so pretty. No wonder they put you front and center. You catch everyone’s attention,” he continues, his arm draped over your shoulder as he gazes at your reflection in the mirror. Both of you, side by side, in your uniforms. You had to admit, the two of you looked hot together.

“Is that why you gave me this necklace? So people know?” you chuckle, your fingers toying with the necklace adorned with his initials. “Mhm, maybe,” he smirks, and you can’t help but giggle.

“Oh, they’ll see it for sure. We’re not supposed to wear any jewelry, so it’ll stick out like a sore thumb,” you chuckle as Rafe leans down to press a kiss on your lips. “Good. I want all those guys crushing on you to know you’re mine,” he says against your lips, and you can’t help but smile. “All yours,” you reply before smashing your lips back onto his, losing yourself in the moment one last time.

~

As Thunderstruck reverberated around AT&T Stadium, the energy of the crowd was electric. Rafe, standing on the sidelines, couldn’t help but keep his eyes trained on the big screen, his gaze unwavering. Throughout the entire performance, he caught glimpses of your necklace multiple times, glinting under the bright stadium lights. If he saw it, that meant everyone else could too.

You moved with the grace and precision of a seasoned performer, every step and twirl executed flawlessly. The crowd’s roar grew louder as you and the other cheerleaders took center stage, but Rafe’s focus was solely on you. The way you danced had him utterly captivated; each sway of your hips, each leap, and every spin had his heart pounding harder than any game.

And then, the moment that nearly made him lose it—you threw your head back (pls tell me u guys know what move of the dance I’m talking abt if u saw the documentary😭 like the part where they hit their Pom Poms on the ground and then do the hair flip?), your eyes locking with the camera, giving a sultry, confident gaze. The big screen captured the perfect shot of you, your radiant smile and the necklace with Rafe’s initials prominently displayed on your chest. It was a declaration, a bold statement that you were his.

Rafe’s breath hitched as he felt a rush of pride and desire flood through him. His initials on your necklace weren’t just an accessory; they were a symbol of his claim, a visible marker for everyone to see. The sight of it sent a jolt of possessive excitement through him, making his blood run hot.

As the music reached its crescendo, you finished the routine with a flourish, and the crowd erupted in applause. Rafe’s teammates nudged him, laughing and making comments about his obvious distraction, but he didn’t care. His eyes remained locked on you, taking in every detail, every shimmer of the necklace that told everyone you were his.

When the performance ended, and you made your way off the field, Rafe couldn’t wait for the game to be over. The anticipation of seeing you, holding you, and showing you just how much he appreciated you was almost too much to bear.

~

“Really, kiddo?” Your dad, the Dallas Cowboys coach, gives you a disapproving nod, his presence commanding even in casual moments as he leans against your car. “What?” you respond innocently, unlocking the car and tossing your bag into the backseat, trying to avoid his penetrating gaze.

“You know what I’m talking about,” he says, raising an eyebrow at you. You meet his gaze, trying to keep your expression neutral, but you know exactly where this conversation is heading.

You’ve been on the team long enough to know the uniform policies. Hell, I’m not even on the cheerleading squad, and I know you aren’t supposed to wear any jewelry with your uniform,” your dad continues, his voice a mix of frustration and concern. He crosses his arms over his chest, his stance was something you’d usually see when he’s lecturing his team, not his daughter.

You let out a sigh, mirroring his stance as you cross your arms too. “It’s not that big of a deal, Dad. It’s just a necklace.” “Just a necklace?” he repeats, incredulous. “Kiddo, you know the rules are there for a reason. It’s about professionalism and safety. What if it gets caught on something?”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, feeling a mix of irritation and guilt. “Shouldn’t Kelli be telling me this? Not you?” Your dad chuckles, a rare moment of humor breaking through his stern demeanor. “You’d be glad it’s me talking to you and not her. You know how strict she can be about the rules.”

You roll your eyes, but you know he’s right. Kelli had a reputation for being strict but fair, and you didn’t want to risk your place on the team. “Okay, fine. I get it,” you concede, your voice softening as the weight of his words sinks in.

~

Later that night, you sink into the comfort of your bed, the events of the day replaying in your mind. You reach for your phone on the nightstand, deciding to unwind by catching up on messages and social media. A few notifications catch your eye—messages from your close friends on the team.

Curious, you open the first message, which contains a Twitter link. Your fingers tap the screen, and the app loads quickly. Your eyes widen slightly as you see your name and Rafe’s name trending all over social media.

You click on another link, leading to a video clip from the game earlier. The footage shows you performing, the camera zooming in just as you throw your head back and lock eyes with the lens, your necklace with Rafe’s initials gleaming under the stadium lights.

The next day, Kelli was furious, to say the least. Her expression was a mixture of disappointment and frustration as she called you into her office. “Y/n, this is unacceptable,” she said sternly. “You know the rules, and you deliberately broke them.”

“This is your official warning,” she continued, her tone unyielding. “The PR team had to work overtime to manage the situation. They even went as far as photoshopping the necklace out of the official pictures taken of you.”

You spent the rest of the day practicing with renewed determination, vowing to stay focused and follow the rules. During a break, you checked your phone and saw more messages from friends and fans. Despite the reprimand from Kelli, the support from your friends and the fans’ enthusiasm about your relationship with Rafe was heartwarming.

“Hey,” you jump slightly, feeling a pair of hands wrap around your waist. “Jesus, Rafe. Don’t come up behind me like that!” you chuckle, turning around and wrapping your arms around his neck as he presses kisses against your jaw.

“Couldn’t help myself,” Rafe murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “Seriously, guys?” You pull away quickly as Kelcey walks into the room, eyebrows raised in amusement. “Sorry,” you awkwardly chuckle, your cheeks flushing as Kelcey shakes her head, brushing it off with a smile.

“It’s fine. Just didn’t expect to walk into a lovefest,” Kelcey teases. “Okay, go away now,” you jokingly shoo Rafe out of the room, but before he leaves, he presses a quick kiss on your lips, making you let out a little giggle.

As Rafe exits, Kelcey crosses her arms, a playful smile on her face. “You guys are cute, and apparently the whole internet thinks so too,” she says with a wink. You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Yeah, I saw. It’s a bit overwhelming, honestly.” Kelcey laughs. “Overwhelming? Try trending. You two are practically the new royal couple of Dallas.” You laugh, shaking your head.

“It’s wild. I never expected this much attention.” Kelcey nods, her expression softening. “Just enjoy it. It’s not every day you get to be part of a fairytale romance that everyone’s rooting for. Plus, it’s clear Rafe’s crazy about you.” You smile, warmth spreading through your chest. “Yeah, he is. And I’m crazy about him too.”

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。GOODBYE KISS — GOJO SATORU. (rich boy! au)

contents. college! au, rich boy! gojo, established relationships, morning cuddles wif toru <3, morning tantrums with toru too lol, ft. our fav: momjo !!

satoru’s head is on your chest as he snores softly—normally, you adore the feeling of him so close to you, but right now, it’s five minutes until your wake-up-for-real-this-time-or-you’re-late alarm will go off. you’ve already hit snooze on the other six—how satoru’s slept through them all is a mystery to you.

you peer down at him, watching the way his lips are parted as soft breaths escape him in gentle sighs. his hair is messy over his forehead, and the sun makes his skin glow in that way only satoru could glow. you sigh, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, and as if he feels the affection in his sleep, he hums a little while still unconscious.

too bad you’ll have to break this peace in just a moment.

and this is going to work out poorly—you already know that. if you move from under satoru, he’ll wake up. if he wakes up, he’ll realize you’re trying to leave. if he realizes you’re trying to leave, he’ll have a meltdown. if he has a meltdown, he’ll surely win and convince you to stay. if you stay, you’ll miss class and fall behind on the notes. if you fall behind on the notes, you’ll procrastinate on catching up. if you procrastinate on catching up, you’ll know absolutely nothing by the time the next exam rolls around. if you know nothing by the time the next exam rolls around, you’ll have multiple mental breakdowns and lose yourself to stress the night before as you cram all in one sitting.

simply put, your entire grade resides on the fact that satoru is currently sleeping on your chest, and he definitely won’t let you leave.

you try anyway—and just as you suspect, you fail.

“huh? wha—where are you going?” he groans, rubbing his eyes as he blinks them open. “wait a sec—baby no,” he whines.

“shh, toru, you’re dreaming,” you kiss his forehead, “i’m not actually leaving.”

“i’m not stupid!”

“shhh, your dream is tricking you,” you insist, “i’m still right under you.”

“you can’t gaslight me! i’m not falling for your tricks,” he huffs, “how gullible do you think i am?”

very, you want to say—but that would be a bad idea.

“you’re not stupid at all, toru,” you say sweetly, “you’re the smartest man i’ve ever met.”

“this is definitely not a dream because you’re even meaner to me in my dreams,” he raises a brow, “dream you would never be this nice.”

“what do you mean i’m mean in your dreams?” you gasp. you’re not mean to satoru—you wouldn’t have to yell at him if he just behaved half the time.

“they’re more like nightmares,” he huffs, “last one, you made me sleep outside. that was rude.”

“how could you dream me being a jerk?” you ask, offended—and before he can answer, your wake-up-for-real-this-time-or-you’re-late alarm blares.

satoru glances down at your phone and stares for a moment—and then he flops back against his pillow as he whines miserably.

“don’t leave,” he begs, “please, just skip this one class for me? i get so cold in the mornings,” he pouts.

“then put a shirt on,” you sigh.

“i’ll be lonely!”

“not if i’m bullying you in your dreams, apparently.”

“baby, i can’t sleep without something to cuddle,” he tries again—that one almost makes you cave. you have to admit that cuddling isn’t something you enjoy passing on either, but class is important. more important than class is your sanity that you would like to keep intact instead of lose while cramming six chapters in one night.

“cuddle my pillow,” you sigh, “satoru, please. i’m already late.”

“just this once, okay? i won’t ask again,” he says innocently, his eyes wide and pleading as they peer up at you.

“you said that last time.”

“last time i crossed my fingers,” he winks, “so it didn’t count. so now you have to—”

“goodbye, satoru,” you mumble.

he slumps in defeat, grumbling under his breath before rolling over to turn his back to you petulantly. you sigh, rolling your eyes—though fondly, before you head to the bathroom, getting ready for the day.

by the time you’re out, satoru has fallen asleep again—you know it’s because he’s stayed up late again to play video games with suguru. because you don’t want to disturb him from his much needed sleep (and because you don’t want to risk waking up him and dealing with another tantrum), you decide to gently pull the blankets over his bare chest and skip the goodbye kiss.

it won’t be a big deal if he doesn’t get a kiss goodbye while he’s asleep, right? he won’t even be awake to notice.

evidently, you realize in the middle of class that you’re wrong. very wrong.

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤToday, 8:32 AM

baby boy 💋:

you left without a goodbye kiss???????????

are you ignoring me????????????

baby

sweetheart

sunshine

angel

peaches

i know you’re reading this.

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤToday, 8:41 AM

mrs. gojo ❤️:

please answer satoru. i really don’t want a headache today

this is very short and silly sorry. anyway rip momjo she deal with too much that boy is a handful

[ponderingmoonlight]

Sanemi Shinazugawa falling hard for his polar opposite but is too subborn to confess until he does

Pairing: Sanemi x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,9k

Synopsis: Sanemi was never the type of guy who falls for something stupid as love. Especially not when it comes to his polar opposite, especially not with such a kind and gentle girl like you... Right?

Warnings: this is pure fluff y'all, reader and Sanemi being innocent babies, a tiny bit enemies to lovers

Thank you soo much for that cute request @blunderland, I just knew I had to write that asap hehe. Let me know what you think <3

There you stand with your stupid perfect face and smile so gentle that you could tame a demon with it. With worried expression, you bend over the little demon girl and inspect her wounds carefully.

“Don’t worry, you’ll feel better soon”, you speak out while caressing her dark hair.

What a poor girl she is. And her brother…Your eyes drift towards the boy with the beat-up face. What he had to endure is truly unfair, too much to bear for a single person. He really lost his whole family apart from that one sister who got turned into a demon.

And now he’s fighting for the demon slayer corps.

“I admire you.”

Tanjiro Kamado’s eyes widen in utter surprise.

“There’s no need to admire me. Actually, I’m the one who’s looking up to you. You’re the first person who didn’t judge my sister because she’s a demon.”

“Demons were once humans too”, you explain briefly while gracefully getting up.

“And I refuse to see them as anything else until they prove the opposite.”

“What kind of fuckery is this, (y/n)?”, an oh so familiar voice barks at you from behind.

Sanemi Shinazugawa really seems like a man with a heart made out of solid ice with his hateful orbs gleaming at Tanjiro and his sister.

“Don’t you think they proved themselves more than enough, Sanemi? If Kagaya-sama agreed on allowing Nezuko Kamado to live and her brother to continue fighting for the demon slayer corps, there is nothing to question for us hashira.”

“Don’t touch that demon brat so casually”, he hisses through gritted teeth while grabbing your wrist tightly.

Your heart skips a beat when his bare skin touches yours. How ridiculous it is that you developed feelings for him. Out of all the other hashira, it was always Sanemi Shinazugawa before everyone else. Those rare moments of tenderness he shows from time to time, the way he worries about his comrades without expressing his true feelings to the world. His closed like a treasure, so gorgeous that you can’t take your eyes off him.

“That isn’t a very nice way to talk to our guests, Sanemi”, you reply softly.

Urgh. He can’t fucking stand you with that scolding expression on your face, how your other hand still rests on top of the head of that demon brat. Why do you have to be so sickening kind to everyone you meet? Why are you even a part of the demon slayer corps with that strange attitude of yours?

“Guests? Are you talking about those intruders? If it was for me, I’d rip both of your heads off without blinking-“

“Sanemi.”

Before he’s able to react any further, he finds his own face framed by your much smaller hands and eyes focused onto his so intensely that he feels his cheeks heat up in an instant.

Why…Why is he suddenly feeling so hot? He should slap your hands away, should show you your place-

“Trust me, I understand your anger. But they are innocent until they prove themselves guilty.”

Those calm eyes who never lose their composure, the eyes he threatened to get lost in countless times already. Why do you have to be so damn gorgeous?

Gorgeous? He furrows his eyebrows, body yanking away from yours instantly. There’s nothing gorgeous about someone like you.

“If you really think that you’re a fool”, he bites back before turning on his heels and storming away.

What the hell was he even thinking? You, gorgeous…Just because your eyes seem to sparkle in the sunlight or the way your hair looks like liquid silk when a ray of light hits it perfectly. Or maybe because of the way your uniform hugs you so well, because of your strength. Or is it the way you look at him?

Sanemi shakes his head vehemently. That’s absolutely ridiculous. You’re the complete opposite of him. How could he ever like you?

“I think Shinazugawa-san likes you, (y/n)!”, Mitsuri babbles out while making her way back with you.

“Really? It definitely didn’t look that way”, you reply with low voice.

Oh, how much you’d hope that someday, the wind hashira actually likes you back. Even though both of you are polar opposites, even though you might never be on same terms. You still somehow managed to fall hard for him.

“Don’t give up hope, (y/n)! I definitely caught the way he looked at you earlier!”

You smile at the girl next to you gently, how she starts analyzing every minor detail of your confrontation earlier on. Mitsuri always swore that there is chemistry between both of you.

“And I’m never wrong when it comes to love, you can trust me (y/n)!”

“You’re a fool for treating (y/n) like trash, Shinazugawa”, Obanai comments dryly while letting his feet dangle from the tree he’s resting on.

“What are you even talking about, huh? It’s none of your business how I’m talking to her anyway.”

“(y/n) truly has a tender and kind soul. What a shame it is you hurt her like that”, Gyomei adds, tears streaming down his face in waterfalls again.

“Are you too dumb to realize she has feelings for you?”, Obanai continues.

You? Feelings for him? He huffs out loud. Absolutely ridiculous, maybe even impossible. Why would someone like you fall for someone like him? Not that he’d care for you like that anyway…

“I don’t give a shit”, Sanemi finally mutters through gritted teeth.

“Shinazugawa, it seems like you have a type”, Gyomei declares all of the sudden.

Something inside Sanemi snaps.

“Are y’all actually too dumb to realize that (y/n)’d never want me? I’m actually so far away from being her type I might be on a whole other planet! It’s like everything I am is exactly what she doesn’t want”, he finally blurts out.

Sanemi’s heavy pants hang in the air while the eyes of Obanai, Giyu and even Gyomei are set on him.

“You should really start working on your self-esteem, Shinazugawa.”

“JUST LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE Y’ALL!”

No, he can’t stand their bullshit anymore. Without listening to another word, Sanemi stomps away in the direction of his estate.

“(y/n) being in love with me? That I don’t laugh, why would I even care about that girl?”, he mumbles under his breath.

-a few days later-

Sanemi swallows heavy, orbs wandering up and down your body. You’re not wearing your usual black uniform and blooming haori. No, you look like a fucking goddess in that kimono and with those flowers braided into your hair.

“Do you think I look like too much?”, you question quietly, your own eyes wandering down your body in distress.

Maybe it was a mistake wearing that kimono for your meeting with Mitsuri. Of course, you knew she’d ask Obanai and Sanemi to accompany you. After all, it’s no secret that she adores the serpent hashira and knows too well about the feelings you hold for Sanemi. But now that you stand in front of him in something apart from your usual uniform, your confidence is blown away by the wind.

“You have to be kidding me. You look gorgeous”, Sanemi blurts out before thinking twice.

Fuck, did he really say that? You definitely think he’s a creep now. Maybe he should get going before it gets uncomfortable-

Your heart skips a beat, cheeks heating up in an instant. Did Sanemi Shinazugawa just call you gorgeous when he’s standing in front of you in that dark green kimono? How is it possible you’re never seen Sanemi in something apart from his usual uniform, that you never went out with each other?

“You look very handsome yourself. Dark green really suits you well”, you reply shyly.

Is it possible that maybe, just maybe, he might feel the same about you? No, that would be absolutely ridiculous, right?

“(y/n), actually there’s something I wanted to say you for quite some time now…” What the hell is he blabbering about? There’s absolutely nothing he has to tell you apart from how fucking annoying you are. You and your gentle voice, you and your captivating smile. You, the polar opposite of him-

“Oh, I actually wanted to tell you something as well!”, you reply a little too fast.

For a moment, you fear your knees might give in. Is this really the time to tell him about your true feelings? “Sometimes you have to be brave, (y/n), especially when it comes to true love! Confess to him!”

Mitsuri is the love hashira. She should know best, right? But what if you’ll make your relationship only worse by making him uncomfortable? What if he doesn’t even like you?

“Sanemi, I…I actually…I-“

“I love you, (y/n)”, Sanemi finally blurts out.

Oh.

There you stand with your opened mouth and blank mind. Did he really just say that? Maybe he didn’t mean it that what. But what if…What if he actually means it?

“You…love me?”, you breathe out.

“I know I’m your polar opposite and that I treated you like shit and I really don’t expect you to actually like me back. I just…wanted to let you know…”, the white-haired man opposite of you mutters while scratching the back of his head.

“But I actually do like you back…”

Sanemi’s eyes dart towards you immediately, his very own cheeks discolored bright pink.

“You…what?”

“I guess I was just never brave enough to let you know since I was sure you hate me…”, you mutter in response.

“Me, hating you?”

All of the sudden, you find his strong arms wrapped around your waist and his face only inches away from yours. You fail to breathe, your whole body refusing to function properly. That force of a man who never really seemed to care about you while your feelings for him were all over the place…He holds you so tight that your wobbly legs don’t have to carry your weight anymore, his usual so distressed orbs now looking down at you so passionately that your heart skips a beat.

“Do I look like I hate you?”, he challenges while pulling you even closer.

You expected a lot of things that could have happened today. Sanemi Shinazugawa declining Mitsuri’s invitation in the first place. Sanemi Shinazugawa keeping his safe distance to you. Sanemi Shinazugawa barking at you for being a blowhard. Sanemi Shinazugawa criticizing each and every little thing you do. But Sanemi Shinazugawa admitting his love for you, Sanemi Shinazugawa holding you tightly in his arms?

Not in a million years.

“I love you too”, you finally speak out.

“I actually did for quite some time. But I always thought you’d never like me back.“

“Well, here I am liking you back, idiot”, Sanemi mutters.

Is that a smile on his face? Why does it suddenly feel like his lips are moving closer? Oh, you thought about kissing that man countless times. Each and every night, you imagined what the privilege of feeling his soft lips pressed against yours might feel like. Is he rough, gentle? Did the wind hashira already share a kiss or two? Out of instinct, you close your eyes, allow yourself to get lost in his arms.

“Look what we have here. Seems like the two of you finally managed to admit your feelings”, Obanai’s dry voice jeers at you from behind.

Your eyes dart open immediately.

“No Iguro-san! You’re interrupting them!”, Mitsuri hisses.

“Are you too dumb to see we’re in the middle of something? Get lost, you fools!”

“I KNEW IT (Y/N)! I KNEW HE LOVED YOU!”

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls (your fic will be next) @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine

[chaconnehoonie]

Wet- L.HS

☼ Lee Heeseung x Fem Reader

Synopsis- As temperatures rise, so does Heeseung’s dick.

WC: 4k+

Warnings: smut, one(1) food play-ish scene, water gun fight, cursing, nothing too extreme it’s just pwp

Smut warnings: Verbal and physical teasing, kissing, oral(f), unprotected sex, creampies, voyeurism and they (kinda) get caught, pool/outdoor sex

This is fiction and the scenarios are completely fake and from my brain, none of the characters are accurate in real life, MDNI!

A/N: This was originally supposed to be written for Sunghoon but I can’t get over that picture of Heeseung so I changed my mind. Enjoy!

You’re so hot

The summer sun warms the exposed areas of skin, but your water soaked shirt keeps you cool in the one hundred degree weather. God damn the sun and its harsh rays—cursing the land with heat waves and rising temperatures that force you and your friends to find ways to cool off.

Heeseung can’t help but stare.

Even as he feels a stream of water hit the back of his head, he can’t keep his eyes off of you. Especially when Jake takes aim and pulls the trigger of his water gun to shoot straight at the center of your chest. God bless the sun.

“Alright, pervert! You got me.” You run a hand through your wet hair, laughing to yourself as you make your way towards your friends and knock water guns with Sunoo as a small celebration.

Jake shoots you one last time, whining about how unfair you play. “Seriously, how did you even get back there? I swear I checked thrice! I want to switch teams!” You poke the muscle of bicep that’s outlined by his own soaking wet shirt, teasing him for his terrible skills at his own game.

“Maybe you should’ve checked better.” With a click of your tongue you prance towards the pool, placing a palm upon the hot pavement to determine the heat. Heeseung watches as you stand up and pull your shirt off of yourself, back arching and neck rolling back as you peel the sticking fabric off of your body to reveal your bikini.

He admires the way you swiftly throw your shirt to the side, grabbing your beach towel and placing it next to the pool to sit on. Plopping yourself onto it, you dip your freshly painted toes into the water and splash them around.

“Why don’t you just ask her out?” Jay startles Heeseung from his trance, snapping his head to see the younger is now the only person standing next to him, a quirked eyebrow following his question. “I can’t.”

Heeseung replies simply, turning back just in time to notice Sunghoon handing you a small ice cream cone. He’s unable to focus for long as his attention is caught by Sunoo loudly laughing from the pool, where Jake is swimming around with an open mouth, begging Sunghoon to at least attempt to throw his own cone into his mouth from where he stands next to you.

“I don’t think Sunghoon would like that.” Heeseung sighs, shaking his head and deciding his own fate is to watch you from afar. To admire you from a distance.

But Jay wouldn’t let that happen. He doesn’t call himself “Heeseung’s number one wing man” for no reason, which is why he encourages his friend to go after you. Even if Sunghoon seems to be the only guy in your field of vision.

Of course, you’re just friends. At least that’s what you both claim. Heeseung doesn’t believe it though, in fact, he believes you two have been keeping it on the low. He’s created a whole fantasy relationship between his two friends— a fantasy that he isn’t a part of.

“Your first problem is not Sunghoon.” Jay brings up the topic once they’ve made their way into the cool house, alone. “The problem is you thinking there’s something going on between them.” Heeseung scoffs, taking a beer from Jay then turning his head to look at you through the window.

Your ice cream cone is melting in the hot sun, creamy liquid running through your fingers and down your forearm and Heeseung shivers. He’s always known he has a strong imagination, but with the visual stimulation right there; the suggestively colored desert leaving trails of itself down your arm, he can only imagine how his is own cream would adorn your body.

“Are you even listening?” Jay smacks his friend’s head, snapping him out of his scandalous fantasy. “You need to make a move. And I promise you Sunghoon won’t care. Sure, he’s a little protective but he’s your best friend too—he knows what’s best for both of you.”

Heeseung only pays attention to the first half of Jay’s rant, falling back into a trance as you finally lick a long stripe up your forearm, swapping your ice cream cone to the other hand to suck on your messy fingers. He only looks away when Sunghoon grabs your wrist and forces your fingers further down your throat and you gag for a second, then bring your ice cream and spit covered hand to the back of Sunghoon’s head, pushing him into the pool with Jake and Sunoo.

“You’re so right.” Heeseung’s voice is barely audible to Jay. “What-”before Jay can even question him, the older is patting him on the back and muttering a quick thanks you’re the best and rushing outside. Jay stands there for a second, sighs, then quickly entertains himself with an unopened bottle of vodka. He’ll pay Sunghoon back later.

You move your attention from the pool to the house just in time to see Heeseung sitting down next to you. You note that he looks nervous, maybe even shy, but you don’t say anything to humiliate him. Yet.

“Hi, Hee. What’s up?” You chirp out before bringing what’s left of your ice cream to your lips, licking a sensual stripe along the side. You don’t break eye contact with Heeseung as you twist the cone between your fingers, coating the entire expanse with your tongue.

Heeseung gulps, adam’s apple bobbing as he watches a drop of melted cream land on your chest, then can’t help but follow it with his eyes as it glides down your skin over your right breast, then between your breasts, and finally landing somewhere in the covered area of your bikini top.

As if he wasn’t just ogling your body, he looks back up to see you staring at him in amusement, and finally answers your question. “Nothing.”

You nod, smirking to yourself and quickly glancing towards all four of your friends now in the pool. “Nothing, huh?” You repeat and he nods eagerly.

“So what about that?” Your gaze drops to his lap, and only then does he realize how hard he’s gotten over this short interaction. “That seems pretty up to me.” You tease, letting out a giggle before abruptly standing up and stretching out the hand currently holding your ice cream.

Heeseung grabs the cone, confused but so love-struck that he’s barely processing anything at the moment. You push his hand closer to his mouth, watching as drops land onto the crotch of his swim trunks and he once again follows your gaze.

Grabbing his cheek with one hand and pushing the ice cream past his lips with the other, you smile widely at him. “Finish for me, yeah?”

.☼.

If yesterday really happened, then Heeseung is in a slight dilemma. After arriving home last night, he did finish for you. At least, he hopes that’s what you meant by finish. Perhaps you really did mean the yummy treat but he knows you. He knows your double meanings and your teasing jokes.

But this makes his situation all the worse. To anyone else, these interactions would have confirmed your requited feelings for Heeseung, but it’s you. You’re so confusing.

With the way you’re so teasing with everyone, and the way you show affection in questionable manners. Even the way you openly treat all and any of your friends as if they’re your boyfriend.

Heeseung remembers when Sunoo complimented the scent of your lip gloss, so in return you kissed him for a solid five seconds, stating that you “just wanted him to taste it”. Yeah, sure.

Or the time Jake wanted you to clean up his eyebrows for him, which resulted in you sitting in his lap for fifteen stiff minutes applying your entire skin care routine on him.

Whatever you have going on in your head, it confuses Heeseung. Which is why he decided he’s finally going to man up and ask you on a date at your daily pool hang out.

At least, he’s going to try to. Hopefully if you’re not wearing his favorite red bikini. Hopefully if you somehow magically forgot the events of yesterday. Hopefully if he just grows some balls and lets his feelings free for the first time in years. Probably not.

.☼.

It’s safe to say, you did not forget the events of yesterday, you’re definitely wearing Heeseung’s favorite red bikini, and he has not at all grown any balls to even make eye contact with you yet.

He’s been here for an hour. One whole agonizing hour of watching you climb onto Jake’s shoulders and wrestle Sunghoon who is on Sunoo’s shoulders. Thankfully, Sunoo has thighs of steel and is able to keep Sunghoon steady while you push and pull all in an attempt to knock him over.

Heeseung’s jaw clenches and his eyes don’t leave your hands— your hands that are currently touching up every part of Sunghoon’s body. He contemplates leaving now and skipping out on the guy’s night he and his friends hold biweekly.

Your fingers grip Sunghoon’s biceps before making their way to his chest, nails scratching their way down his ridged stomach, letting out frustrated groans as you poke and poke at Sunghoon’s body.

Oh, how Heeseung wishes it was his body you were touching. He can’t take it anymore, standing up quickly and pushing his lawn chair back, where it hits the floor with a loud crash before making his way into the house just like he did yesterday.

The crash distracts you and Sunghoon takes this as an advantage as he swiftly loosens your harsh grip on Jake’s shoulders and pushes you down into the water.

From outside of the pool, Jay sighs to himself before following Heeseung back inside, finding him snooping through Sunghoon’s home bar.

“She’s not going to fuck you if you’re not sober, you know.” Heeseung jumps at the sound of Jay’s voice, almost dropping one of the expensive bottles of alcohol.

He shrugs and continues snooping. “Who said anything about fucking?” His reply is nonchalant but his best friend can see right through his act. “Your eyes say everything I need to know.” Jay laughs to himself but Heeseung doesn’t find it funny.

“Whatever. She’s not into me like that anyways.” Heeseung speaks like he’s trying to convince himself, but Jay can hear the hopeful tone in his voice. “Trust me. She was eye fucking you earlier when you weren’t looking.”

Jay barely gets the sentence out before Heeseung is visibly perking up. “Really?!” His face is bright and his eyes are glossy and wide. “Relax, man. Don’t pop a boner in front of me.” Jay teases his friend and Heeseung rolls his eyes in embarrassment, because he definitely would grow stiff at just the mention of your name.

Jay heads back towards the sliding door but turns back to Heeseung before he opens it. “By the way, Hoon invited her to stay the night with us also.” He smiles to himself before continuing his sentence. “So please try to keep it down if you do happen to make it past first base.” With that, he makes his way back to the pool and leaves Heeseung with a heavy problem in his swim trunks.

.☼.

Heeseung opens his eyes to the sound of obnoxious snoring echoing throughout Sunghoon’s living room. He’s not sure how long he’s been asleep but by the looks of it, everyone else seems to have knocked out by now too. Closing his eyes, he decides to try to fall back asleep. Until he’s startled awake-

“Heeseung.”

Shooting his eyes back open, he sits up from his place on the couch and looks around the dark room. With his eyes adjusting to the lack of light, he can only barely make out your figure kneeling next to him on the floor. “What the fuck are you doing?” He whispers a little too loudly and you stand up, a palm covering his mouth swiftly as you take place onto the couch next to him.

Heeseung is a big man, meaning he already takes up most of the space, leaving you only a small sliver of cushion to sit on. So, you climb up onto his lap to get comfortable— because of course you would. Stiffening up from under you, he makes eye contact with you the best he can with the dim lighting, only the moonlight peeking through the curtains.

“I couldn’t sleep.” You whisper, slowly taking your hand off of his mouth and trailing it down his chest and stomach, finally resting it at his side. Your thumb swipes comfortably there, almost as if you’re reassuring him, letting him know that this is real. “And I’m bored.” You lean in closer to him, your hand now coming up to his chest and pushing him to lay flat underneath you, his head landing softly on the armrest of the couch.

He gulps, big doe eyes looking up at you almost innocently. But you know that’s not the case. You’ve seen the way he watches you when he thinks you’re not looking. Seeing him drool over you is one thing but seeing him think he’s being slick with it? It, makes you way more aroused than you’d like to admit.

However, it’s taken too long for him to act on his desires, so you decide to do it for him. “Wanna help me?” Your voice is sultry and low, and Heeseung’s tummy feels warm as it stirs with excitement when he nods. Leaning down slowly, you stop as soon as the tip of your nose brushes Heeseung’s. Nodding your head slightly, you rub your nose against his almost domestically, before leaning in and lightly pressing your lips to his.

The kiss doesn’t last long, as you’re quick to pull away and smile. But Heeseung isn’t pleased yet, instead cupping the back of your head with his hand and pulling your face back towards his. Your lips smash together almost painfully, but you’re distracted quickly as his tongue immediately pushes its way into your mouth. It’s warm and wet, strong as it glides against yours in a teasing manner.

You catch his bottom lip between yours, sucking on it for a second before biting it softly and pulling away, watching as it bounces back now glossy and red. Heeseung expects more, but to his surprise, you just jump off of his lap and quietly walk to the door that leads outside.

Looking back, you watch his silhouette as he runs a hand through his hair and sits up again. You turn back to unlock the door, already taking your shirt off to expose your bare torso before turning to him one last time. “You coming?”

.☼.

If anyone had told Heeseung two days ago that he would be not only skinny dipping at 2am with you—but shoving his tongue down your throat as well, he wouldn’t believe it.

But, lo and behold, he currently has your back pressed to the edge of the pool with your legs wrapped around his naked waist, lips locked and swollen.

It all happened in a rush, between you stripping to nothing in front of him to him following your lead and ending up intertwined, he suddenly finds himself in a dream-like state.

Was this really happening? The girl he’s been craving for years is finally giving him a chance? Heeseung feels like happiest man on earth right now, and judging by the little moans you let out every now and then, he thinks you may feel the same.

“Heeseung.” You practically whimper as he drags his lips to your neck, nipping and sucking at your warm skin. His lips kiss down your chest softly, landing on one of your hard nipples. He pecks it so so softly, almost afraid of hurting you, but you want it to hurt. Grabbing the back of his head and pushing your chest forward, you encourage him to take your nipple into his mouth and he easily gets the hint.

He’s barely done anything and you’re already shaking in his arms, gripping his biceps and throwing your head back with a loud moan. “Heeseung- I need you to fuck me.”

He stops immediately, then slowly detaches his mouth from your nipple and looks up at you. “Yeah? Want me to fuck this pretty pussy?” He thrusts his hips up, his movements slowed by the water but his cock still manages to brush against your folds. You bite your lip, nodding your head eagerly and Heeseung smiles. “Let me get a taste of it first.”

Without waiting for your response, he lifts you up and places you at the edge of the pool, your pussy sat deliciously in front of where he keeps himself afloat.

He almost drools, noting the way he can still see your slick drip out of you despite your whole body being drenched in pool water. Heeseung wastes no time, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you closer so his tongue can lap at your slit.

The pleasure sends a shock through your body, your back arching almost painfully and your hips push themselves harder against Heeseung’s face. He’s forced so close into your cunt that you can feel each feature—his nose stimulating your clit as his tongue teases your entrance and his plush lips sucking almost obnoxiously all while his chin is already slippery with your arousal.

“Ah-fuck!” He’s only been at it for a few minutes yet you’re already so close. But this isn’t want you want. No, as much as you want to release all over his pretty nose, you didn’t seduce him just to finish so quickly. So, you use all of your strength to pull him off of you and scoot away. “Need you to fuck me, now.”

That’s all it takes for Heeseung to lift himself out of the pool, pick you up, and then throw you on the nearest lounging chair. Thank fuck for Heeseung convincing Sunghoon to buy these at the start of the summer. Otherwise he may have opted for fucking you on the itchy grass.

Grabbing his face, you pull him down, kissing him with a sloppy force while you grow more impatient by the second. “How do you want it?” He’s so polite as he asks, but just the idea of him caring about your pleasure is so arousing. You turn around, placing your cheek on the cushion of the pool lounger and wiggling your ass to taunt him.

It works, of course, and Heeseung takes his place behind you. He slaps his thick girth on the crevice of your ass, feeling the heat between your bodies mix with the humid summer night air. “Hurry, please.” You whine but he just shushes you, dropping his cock to gather your slick on his tip.

You’re tired of waiting, pushing yourself back only slightly to feel him enter you just an inch. “Oh, God.” You gasp, caught off guard by the stretch of just the head. He fights the urge to fully push himself in, instead gently sliding in more, your walls clenching tighter and tighter as each inch stretches you out, a tingling feeling fluttering in your stomach.

He fully bottoms out, standing still with his hands on your hips for a second, before somehow pushing even deeper. You squeak, brows furrowing as you try to ignore the pain of the threatening size currently stuffing you full. You open your eyes, looking back to see his bottom lip caught between his teeth and his eyes shut.

You reach your hand back and tap his own hand, letting him know he can finally move. He nods, leaning forward a bit to hover his body closer to yours. “I’m going to make you feel so good.” You smile at him for a second, but it’s quickly replaced by an open mouthed moan as he pulls back a few inches, then slams himself back in.

Building up a steady pace, he thrusts a few times before finally letting out his first moan. And God, was it beautiful. “Yes-yes let me hear you, baby.” Your voice is weak as his thrusts push your whole body against the chair, your breath unsteady and shaky with each meet of your hips.

It feels amazing, but you can’t help but feel that Heeseung is trying to be gentle with you, which you don’t want. Pushing yourself back again, you meet his thrusts with quiet hmph hmph hmph noises that catch his attention. “You need more? Yeah? My cock isn’t enough for you, needy baby?” He coos at you but you know he’s still holding back. “Please, Heeseung. More.” Your fragile voice ignites something in him, and you’re suddenly being picked up by your hair.

Heeseung grabs your wrists and pins them to the top of the lounger, romantically intertwining his fingers between yours before aggressively snapping his hips against your ass. You let out an almost-too-loud moan, but it only fuels Heeseung more. Your bodies are close and he can’t pull back fully, so instead he fucks into you at a fast, almost blinding pace.

He watches your ass jiggle as it meets his pelvis, the bouncing fat sending him to an almost trance like state. The only thing that snaps him out of it is your whiny voice. “Harder, Heeseung, harder!” He pulls out fully, not giving you time to process his actions as he sits down on the lounger and pulls you on top of him, slipping his cock back into your heat easily.

Thrusting up once, twice, then a third time, he watches your thighs tremble as you try to hold yourself up for him. He finds it cute, how you’ve teased him for so long only to end up too cock drunk to even ride him. He wraps his arms around your body, pulling you flat against him so you’re chest to chest with your face in his neck.

He slowly drags his cock out of you, then fully shoves it in, a loud squelching noise following. “So fucking wet. So fucking noisy.” He grits his teeth, clenching his jaw as he fucks up into your cunt in an almost inhumane pace. “Ah ah ah, shit! I’m cumming, Heeseung!”

Your warning barely falls from your lips as you clench impossibly tight around him, body stiffening for a second until your toes curl and you feel the knot in your stomach releasing with a tingling sensation spreading throughout your entire body, which then goes limp against Heeseung’s.

This encourages him to thrust harder, chasing his own release that he can already sense creeping up on him. His fingers dig into your ass, nails leaving indents as his hips don’t slow down. The sound of your release mixing with the slapping of his balls on your ass is all too much, and he finally lets himself go.

“Gonna cum in you, baby. Gonna cum so fucking deep-fuck!” He bites down on your shoulder as he cums, hips stilled and cock stuffed so deep inside of you, you’re sure you’ll end up pregnant even on birth control.

He slowly lowers his hips, caressing your back soothingly as if he’s apologizing for his harsh treatment before. “Was that okay? Did I hurt you?” He cups your cheeks to look into your eyes, only to meet your fucked out expression and lazy smile. “That was the best I’ve ever had.”

That was enough to almost have Heeseung stiffening up again, if not for the sound of the sliding door opening and Jay’s pissed off voice. “Brought you guys some towels.” He walks out with a hand covering his eyes and the other holding out two beach towels, which he throws on the floor carelessly, then walks back to the door. “I told you to keep it down if you got past first base.”