#what is that timer counting down to though

[lokilysolbitch]

the poor swifties on my fyp rn, bags under their eyes: so as we know if you look at taylor's website with your phone on dark mode it shows the link to a website that shows the phone number of her counsin's neighbours dog. and if you Call that number at midnight it plays a recording of edgar allen poe speaking a string of latin words that if you unscramble it's the lyrics of her thirteenth track on her new album. but what you Don't know is that if you unscramble the Letters individually and translate it from Portuguese to Icelandic to Greek to morse code, it actually says My Red Left Shoe TWICE which is a reference to the thirteenth line in her fifth track on the album SpeakFearless198Folklore that was released on the THIRTEENTH MONTH of the year 1313 BC. so what does this mean? she is dropping RepTV

[papayainsectorone]

ice baths

summary: Though young and still learning, Kimi’s natural stamina and desire to prove himself lead him to push boundaries

content: 18+! smutty smut smut smut (consider this a warning), nsfw descriptions, fingering, no protection

word count: 5,5k

pairing: kimi antonelli x fem!oc

a thought: I....I just don´t know what to say about this, i just finished writing this 30 seconds ago when Kimi came up on TV for a pre race interview in Miami on his fucking scooter and ... this feels illegal haha enjoy

The physio room was quiet, humming with low fluorescent lights and the soft, rhythmic hiss of massage oil being pumped from a dispenser. Kimi sat on the edge of the treatment table, shirtless, hair still damp from his earlier run, cheeks flushed from exertion—or maybe something else. Something he was trying not to make too obvious.

Sergi, his physio, tilted Kimi’s head carefully to the side, stretching his neck.

Kimi groaned.

"Can you already prepare the ice bath?" Sergi asked, glancing your way.

“Uh—yeah. Sure.” You blinked, caught off guard. Not by the task. By the sound Kimi had just made.

You turned away quickly, cheeks warm, pretending the ice machine required your full concentration.

Still, you felt his eyes on you again.

You smiled. Subtle. Just enough to let him know you noticed. Just enough to invite him to keep looking.

He blushed. Fully. Bright pink down to his collarbones.

God, he was a boy.

But a very, very pretty one.

“It’s done,” Sergi finally said, clapping Kimi lightly on the shoulder. “Ice bath. Four minutes.”

It wasn’t the first time you'd been in the same room like this. You’d been shadowing under Sergi all week, watching training sessions, prepping hydration, tracking recovery metrics. But this—this had been happening from day one.

Kimi had been looking.

And not the fleeting, dismissive glance most teenage boys gave when they saw someone cute. These were longer. Curious. Almost confused—like he couldn’t quite figure out how you ended up near him.

When you glanced over your shoulder, his eyes dropped instantly. Guilty. Caught. Adorable.

You stepped aside as he walked toward the tub. He looked at it, then at you. Then back at the tub.

“You staying?” he asked, voice low.

You raised an eyebrow. “Should I not?”

“No, I mean—yes. I mean… it’s cold,” he mumbled, reaching for the waistband of his training shorts.

You leaned back against the bench, arms crossed, watching with more interest than you meant to show. He hesitated, then slid the shorts down, revealing tight black boxer-briefs underneath.

Nothing left to the imagination.

He caught you looking.

His ears turned red.

But you didn’t look away.

Kimi exhaled and stepped into the tub, arms braced on either side. The water hit his thighs and his whole body jumped. “Shit,” he hissed, his fingers tightening around the edge of the plastic.

“You’re not going to die,” you teased, walking over and crouching beside the tub.

“Easy for you to say,” he muttered, trying and failing to play it cool. “You’re not sitting in ice water in your underwear.”

Your eyes drifted down to where the waterline just hit his collarbones. His abs were tight, trembling slightly, his legs visibly tensed beneath the surface. His jaw clenched and unclenched.

Then he said it. Quiet. Not even fully confident.

“Maybe you can… help me warm up again in a minute.”

He looked stunned the second the words left his mouth. Like he hadn’t even meant to say them out loud.

Your lips twitched. “Oh?”

His eyes flicked to yours, uncertain—but he didn’t take it back.

You tilted your head, crouched beside the tub, one hand resting lightly on the rim near his. “That’s a bold request, Antonelli.”

Kimi laughed—awkward and breathy. “Was it?”

“You tell me.”

He looked away for a second, eyes flicking toward the door like he was checking if Sergi might walk back in. But you both knew the physio wouldn’t return until the timer beeped.

“No one’s stopping you,” he muttered.

Your smile deepened, and your fingertips brushed the edge of his hand where it gripped the tub. Just the smallest touch—but he stilled under it.

“So you want help warming up,” you said softly, watching him squirm beneath the question. “That’s new. Weren’t you blushing two seconds ago because I looked at your legs?”

He didn’t say anything.

Just looked at you.

Really looked.

Like he didn’t know whether to make a joke or let something real crack open between you.

You leaned a little closer, enough for your voice to drop. “You think I haven’t noticed the way you stare, Kimi?”

His throat bobbed with a swallow. “It’s not just staring.”

“No?” you asked, voice sweet. “What else is it, then?”

He shook his head slightly. “I dunno. Just—whenever you’re around I forget what I’m meant to be doing.”

You bit your lip.

That earnestness. That teenage honesty that slipped past filters. He didn’t even realize how much he was giving away.

Your hand ghosted along his forearm now, the water droplets beading and running where your fingers traced. “You always this distracted in cold baths?”

“Only when you’re next to me in tight leggings.”

You laughed—he made it sound innocent, but your stomach flipped anyway. Your fingers trailed back to his hand, slipping just slightly beneath his wrist. The contact was featherlight, but it sent a visible shiver up his arm.

He sucked in a breath. “It’s only supposed to be four minutes.”

You looked at the timer. “Still got two and a half.”

Kimi’s eyes dropped to your mouth.

You moved your hand again—now along his bicep, where his skin was warmer under the water. Your knees brushed the side of the tub, your body leaning in just enough to crowd his space without touching anything essential.

“You really cold?” you whispered.

He nodded, very slowly. “Freezing.”

“Hm.” You leaned even closer now, lips near his ear. “Poor baby.”

He tensed under the teasing, like the words hit lower than they were meant to.

Then he turned his face slightly, and you realized just how close you were—barely an inch between your mouths.

His voice was quiet, rougher now. “You’re not helping.”

You smiled. “Aren’t I?”

You didn’t kiss him.

Not yet.

But your thumb traced a slow, lazy line across his inner forearm, feeling his pulse skip under your touch. His boxer-briefs were soaked and clinging, the outline of him obvious now, impossible to miss even in the cold water.

He let out the faintest, helpless sound.

And the timer beeped.

You smiled and stood. “Four minutes. You’re done.”

Kimi stared up at you, dumbfounded.

You grabbed a towel and tossed it toward him, eyes glinting. “Dry off, Antonelli. We’ll see if you still need warming up once you’re not half-frozen.”

He blinked, grabbing the towel with wet fingers, his mouth slightly open like he had words but couldn’t figure out what to say.

You didn’t wait.

You turned and walked toward the locker benches—slowly, hips swaying just a little too deliberately.

And Kimi?

You could feel his eyes on you the whole way.

You didn’t make it far.

You’d barely reached the corner of the locker room when you heard the soft thud of wet footsteps behind you.

Then: “Wait.”

You turned—and he was right there. Hair damp, towel half-wrapped around his waist, droplets trailing down his chest. His face was flushed, pupils blown wide. And he looked like he’d made up his mind in the last five seconds.

“Kimi—”

But he didn’t let you finish. Just like last time.

His mouth crashed into yours with the kind of force that only came from pure, boyish urgency. He kissed like he couldn’t stop himself—messy, too fast, breathless—but god, it made your knees go weak.

You caught the edge of the lockers behind you to steady yourself, his hands still wet as they slid to your waist. He kissed like he’d been holding back for days. Maybe weeks. Maybe since the first moment your hands brushed while you passed him the resistance bands and he blushed so hard he had to look away.

You gasped when his lips left yours to trail down your jaw. “Kimi—slow down—”

“I can’t.” He mumbled it into your neck, kissing, biting just enough to make you shiver. “I’ve been thinking about it too much. I can’t slow down.”

His towel slipped as he pressed closer, his cold and damp and very, very hard against you. There was nothing shy about him now—not in the way his hands gripped your hips or how his thigh slid between yours, grinding just enough to make you gasp.

You let your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging gently. “You’re really not holding back.”

He looked up at you then, flushed and wrecked already. “I don’t know how.”

There was something so hot about the honesty. No games. No pretenses. Just a beautiful, breathless boy who wanted you badly and didn’t know how to pretend otherwise.

You kissed him again, slower this time, tongue teasing the seam of his lips until he opened with a soft whine. He groaned when you sucked his bottom lip, his hips rocking against yours instinctively. He was desperate, but trying—trying to make it good, trying to do something right even through the haze.

“Touch me,” he said against your mouth, voice cracking just a little.

You smiled. “Where?”

“Anywhere. Please.”

That please made heat coil deep in your belly.

Your hand dropped between you, brushing the towel aside completely, reaching in his boxers and when you finally wrapped your fingers around him—hot, already leaking, twitching in your grip—his knees buckled.

“Fuck,” he choked, hips jerking forward. “Sorry—I’m—fuck—”

You laughed softly against his neck, stroking slow and deliberate.

“I haven’t—I didn’t even—fuck—” He was panting now, forehead pressed to your shoulder. “I swear, I can go again. I swear.”

That only made you hotter.

You squeezed just slightly, thumb tracing the tip, and that was it.

Kimi whimpered and came.

Fast. Hard. All over your hand, your waistband, his own stomach. His whole body shook with it, face buried against your neck like he couldn’t stand to see himself lose it that quickly.

You held him there, gentle, fingers still trailing over his sensitive skin while he caught his breath.

“Shit,” he whispered again. “I didn’t mean—fuck, I didn’t mean to come like that.”

You cupped his jaw, made him look at you. “Kimi. You’re fine.”

He looked so embarrassed.

But also so wrecked. Eyes dark, mouth swollen from kissing, chest heaving.

“I can go again,” he repeated, almost pleading. “Give me like… two minutes. I swear. Just don’t—don’t leave.”

You grinned. “I’m counting on it.”

His breath was still ragged when he finally pulled back to look at you. His lashes were damp, cheeks still flushed, but his hands didn’t leave your waist. He held you like you might vanish if he let go.

“I didn’t mean for it to be that fast,” he said again, quieter this time. “You just… you’re so—”

You kissed him gently, interrupting whatever apology was about to come. “It’s okay, Kimi. Really.”

But he still looked like he had something else to say.

After a long pause, he asked, voice barely above a whisper, “Can I… touch you?”

Your heart thudded.

There was something about the way he said it—so shy, like the thought alone made his head spin, but he wanted to. Badly. And it wasn’t just lust. It was something tender in the way his fingers skimmed your hip, how he was looking at you like you were untouchable—but he still wanted to try.

You nodded slowly. “Yeah. You can.”

His eyes flicked up to yours, searching. “You’ll tell me if I do it wrong?”

You smiled. “There’s no wrong. Just start slow.”

His hands moved tentatively, reverent almost, as he slid them beneath your shirt. The fabric rose inch by inch, baring your skin to the cool air. He kissed your shoulder, then your collarbone, lips soft, like he was still trying to prove he deserved to be this close.

“You’re so soft,” he murmured, almost like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

You helped him tug the shirt off, and when your bra followed, his breath caught. He stared like he couldn’t believe you were real, his hands hovering like he didn’t know if he was allowed to touch.

So you took them, guided them to your chest.

And he groaned—actually groaned—when he felt you.

His thumbs brushed your nipples, watching your face as if every reaction you gave was a gift. And when you moaned softly, his eyes fluttered shut, like that sound alone could undo him all over again.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he whispered.

You leaned in, nipped his jaw. “Only if you stop.”

He didn’t.

You could now understand why they called him the wonder child in Formula 1.

Because even now—barely out of breath, cheeks still pink, hands a little shaky—he was learning. Fast. Not confident, not exactly, but observant. Focused. Like he was reading you in real time and adapting with every tiny shift in your breath, every gasp that escaped your lips.

His fingers were unsure at first—slightly clumsy, like he didn’t know whether to squeeze or stroke—but he watched your face like it was the telemetry screen of a quali lap. Every whimper you gave him, every arch of your spine, he adjusted to it. Like he couldn’t not try to be better at this too.

When his mouth dipped to your chest, his lips were soft and hesitant. He kissed there like he was still convincing himself it was okay—that he was allowed to taste. But when he drew one nipple into his mouth and you let out a sharp gasp, his confidence grew. His tongue circled, tentative at first, then firmer, guided by your breathy “yes, just like that.”

He smiled against your skin.

That little bit of feedback clearly went straight to his ego.

Still, his hands drifted lower, down your stomach, fingers brushing the waistband of your leggings. He looked up at you again, flushed and slightly wild-eyed. “Is this okay?”

You nodded, and he took that permission like a green light.

He tugged them down slowly, revealing more of you, eyes flicking down and then back up like he was making sure he didn’t miss a thing. When his fingers slipped between your thighs, he sucked in a breath.

“God…” he murmured. “You’re—wow.”

You laughed, breathless. “Not much of a compliment, but I’ll take it.”

“No, I mean—” he looked up, lips parted, eyes dark, “I’ve never—this is... crazy.”

But still, he didn’t hesitate.

His fingers explored, tracing slowly, learning what made your legs shift, what made you grip the edge of the bench. At first, too soft, then a bit too fast, but every time you moaned or murmured something back—“slower,” “right there,” “don’t stop”—he adjusted. The way he focused on your reactions made your head spin.

And when he finally found just the right rhythm—just enough pressure, just the right spot—you swore under your breath, and his jaw clenched.

“I’m doing it right?” he whispered, breath catching.

You let out a soft, broken laugh. “Very right.”

His grin was a little crooked, a little boyish—and full of wonder. He kept going, fingers slick and steady now, one hand bracing on your thigh as the other worked you. The trembling in your legs only seemed to make him more determined.

“Tell me when,” he said, voice almost reverent.

And when your hips bucked and your back arched—when you came undone on his fingers—he looked like he’d just won a Grand Prix.

You were still catching your breath, your thighs trembling around his hand, when you felt him stiffen—really stiffen. Not just his fingers now, but all of him. He was still inside you, slow and gentle with his movements, but something about the way you clenched around him—reflexively, instinctively—sent a visible jolt up his spine.

His lips parted like he was about to say something, but then he exhaled sharply through his nose, eyes fluttering closed. "Merda…"

He shuddered.

Just a small squeeze, a shift in your hips, and you felt it—the unmistakable way he tensed and gasped, like someone had pulled the air from his lungs. His forehead dropped to your shoulder for a moment, and his fingers stilled inside you.

“Cazzo…” he muttered, voice tight and ragged. “I—I —”

You blinked, and then realized. His boxers were soaked at the front. Still tight around his hips, but dark and damp now where he’d just—

He looked up at you, horrified and flushed. “I didn’t— I mean, I didn’t even—shit.”

You bit back a grin. He looked devastated, like he’d just crashed into a wall at turn one.

“Kimi.” You touched his face, gently.

He looked up at you like you’d just handed him a lifeline. “It’s not okay. I didn’t even… I didn’t get to do anything for you.”

“You did,” you said with a soft smile, squeezing his wrist where his hand still rested between your thighs. “Very much.”

His mouth opened, then closed. He looked utterly lost.

You leaned closer. “Besides,” you whispered, brushing your lips over his cheek, “you’ve got stamina, right?”

His eyes lit up, like something in him clicked. His breath caught as you kissed just beneath his ear.

“I… I do,” he said, more to himself than to you. His voice cracked a little, but his eyes held fire now.

He sat up straighter, jaw tight. “I can go again. I want to go again.”

And this time, there was no hesitation in the way he reached for you.

His mouth crashed into yours, all teeth and heat and desperation. You barely registered being lifted and eased back until your shoulder blades hit the narrow locker room bench. It wobbled beneath you, squeaking faintly against the tile, but the way he gripped your hips left no room for second thoughts.

He shoved his boxers down just enough to free himself—already hard again, thick and flushed—and lined himself up with a breathless groan. One deep thrust and he was inside you again, filling you so suddenly you gasped.

The stretch made your eyes flutter, but there was no time to settle into it—he was already moving, fast and rough, hips snapping with a kind of urgency that bordered on frantic. The bench rocked under both of you, and his hands tightened on your thighs like he was holding on for dear life.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Too good, it’s—fuck, I’m not gonna last—”

You could feel it. He was right there on the edge again, the way his rhythm stuttered, how his thighs trembled against yours. But you weren’t there yet—your body straining for more, that tight coil inside you still winding, aching.

“Kimi,” you gasped, grabbing for his wrist. “Touch me.”

His eyes snapped to yours. Understanding hit in a rush, and he didn’t hesitate. One hand slid between your bodies, fingers slick with sweat and your arousal, and found your clit.

The moment he started rubbing—messy, desperate, but exactly what you needed—it hit you like a wave. You arched, cried out, everything tightening as the orgasm slammed into you, hard and sudden. Your body clenched around him, and that was it.

He came with a broken sound, hips jerking deep inside you as he spilled into you. Hot. Endless.

Neither of you moved for a moment. Just panting. Trembling.

Then reality hit him.

“Wait—fuck—” His voice cracked. “I didn’t use a condom. Shit. I didn’t even—”

You opened your eyes to see him staring at you, wide-eyed, breath shallow.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said quickly, his hands shaking. “I wasn’t thinking—I just—” He swallowed hard. “Are you on anything? I should’ve asked. Shit.”

You reached for him, found his face with both hands, and gently pulled him down until your foreheads touched.

“I’m on the pill,” you said softly, steadying your breath. “It’s okay.”

He blinked, stunned. Still braced above you, his chest heaving.

“I mean it,” you whispered. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

His face twisted—relief, guilt, awe, all crashing into each other—but he nodded. “I just—fuck. I don’t usually lose control like that.”

You smiled faintly. “Maybe you needed to.”

A beat passed. Then, slowly, he pulled back.

And when he did—when he slipped out of you, both of you still so wet, so raw—his breath hitched.

He stared.

Your legs were still open, thighs trembling, and his cum was already starting to spill from your lips, slow and thick, slicking down to the bench.

“Dio mio,” he whispered. His voice dropped to something low, reverent.

His fingers ghosted over your thigh, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“You’re…” He shook his head once, lips parted, still breathless. “You’re so full of me.”

You watched his face, the stunned hunger there. He looked like a man who’d just witnessed something sacred.

[player042]

HEARTBEAT | kang dae-ho.

pairing: kang dae-ho (player 388) x reader

summary: during the third game you reunite with dae-ho who is everything but thrilled to have his pregnant girlfriend surrounded by death. requested here.

warning: pregnant!reader, established relationship, hot baby daddy dae-ho 😫 angsty and emotional, mention of financial struggles, survival themes, please enjoy ♥️

word count: 2.8k

The door slammed shut behind you, the loud clank of the mechanism sealing you and Dae-ho inside the small, dimly lit room just as the timer hit zero. For a moment, the air felt charged, thick with all the words left unspoken. You stood frozen near the wall, your hands instinctively cradling your belly, while Dae-ho's tall frame loomed near the door. His jaw was clenched tight as you heard gunshots and screaming coming from the other side of the door, his eyes were fixated on the floor as if forcing himself to maintain composure.

Neither of you had so much as exchanged a meaningful glance in front of the others, too scared of what even a flicker of familiarity might invite in this place where alliances were fragile, and vulnerability was a target. But here, in this room, with no one else watching...

"Dae-ho," you breathed, the sound of his name cracking the tension like a dam breaking.

His head snapped up, and within seconds, he crossed the distance between you, his hands cupping your face as he kissed you fiercely, desperately. It wasn't soft or tender, it was raw, like he'd been holding his breath for days and could finally exhale. His lips moved against yours as if trying to drink in everything he'd been forced to repress since seeing you again.

"You're here," he murmured against your lips, his voice trembling as he pulled back just enough to look at you. His hands slid to your shoulders, down your arms, as though reassuring himself that you were real. "God, you're really here."

Your breath hitched, your chest tightening as the weight of his words hit you. "I didn't want you to know," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"That's obvious," he said bitterly, his thumb brushing over your cheek. His gaze softened, his worry bleeding through the anger. "You shouldn't be here. What the hell were you thinking? You're pregnant. And you joined this… this hell?"

Tears stung your eyes as you turned your head away, breaking his gaze. "What choice did I have?" you said, your voice cracking. "We're drowning in debt, Dae-ho. The baby needs a future. What else was I supposed to do?"

"You were supposed to rely on me," he snapped, his hands dropping to his sides, his frustration spilling over. "I would've-" He stopped himself, running a hand through his hair as he paced the small room. "I would've done something. Anything. But you just- You didn't even tell me. You just left me out of this."

"I didn't want to drag you down," you said, your voice trembling. "You've already done so much for us, Dae-ho. I couldn't-"

"Don't," he interrupted, his voice low but sharp. "Don't give me that. You didn't drag me down. You're the one thing in my life that kept me sane." He stopped pacing and turned back to you, his gaze piercing. "And now you're here, risking not just your life but our child's. Do you have any idea what it felt like seeing you out there? Pretending I didn't know you? Pretending I didn't care?"

"I didn't want to need you," you confessed, "Because needing you… it scared me. It still does."

His jaw clenched, the muscle ticking as he looked away, his hands balled to fists before he relaxed them again. "You can need me, damn it," he said softly, his voice low but fierce. "You think I don't need you just as much?"

You pressed a hand to your stomach, the guilt and fear twisting inside you, whispering,"If they know we're connected, they could-"

"I don't care what they do to me," he cut in quickly, his voice rising. "You should've thought about what it would do to me if something happens to you. If something happens to our baby."

The silence that followed was heavy, the air between you thick with regrets. Finally, Dae-ho took a deep breath and stepped closer, his hands finding your shoulders again. His voice softened, though the edge of desperation still lingered. "We'll figure this out, okay? We'll keep our distance in front of the others, but I need you to promise me something."

You looked up at him, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his eyes. "What?"

"You don't take unnecessary risks," he said firmly. "You stick to the safest options. You stay out of the way whenever you can. And if there's even a hint of danger, you let me handle it. Got it?"

You hesitated, the weight of his words pressing down on you. "I'll try," you said finally, knowing it was the best promise you could give.

He exhaled, his forehead dropping to rest against yours. "That's not good enough," he murmured. "But it'll have to do."

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, holding onto each other as the reality of your situation loomed over you. His arms wrapped around you gently, one hand resting protectively over your belly.

"I'll get you out of here," he said softly, his voice full of conviction. "You and the baby. I swear it."

Dae-ho held you close for a moment longer before stepping back, his hands still lingering around your waist. His gaze softened, though the worry didn't leave his eyes.

"You should stick to Jun-hee," he said, his voice firm but kind.

You blinked at him, confused. "What?"

"She's part of my team and she's pregnant too," he explained. "If you two stick together, it'll make it easier for me to keep an eye on you. I know I can't be obvious about us, but at least this way, I'll know you're not alone. And I can look out for both of you without drawing attention."

You opened your mouth to argue, but something about the way he looked at you, pleading, almost desperate, made you pause. "You're really planning to take care of two pregnant women in a place like this?"

He huffed a humorless laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's just… what I do. I can't not try to help. You know that about me."

"That's not an excuse," you said back, your frustration bubbling to the surface. "You're acting like this is all on me, but what about you? Why are you even here, Dae-ho? You didn't exactly tell me you were planning on joining these games either!"

His expression faltered, guilt flashing across his face. "I was trying to protect you," he admitted quietly. "I didn't want you to know. I thought I could-"

"Could what?" you interrupted, "Fix everything? Take on the world by yourself? You think that's what I wanted? You think I wouldn't have tried to stop you if I knew?"

"I didn't want you to stop me," his shoulders slumped, "I thought if I could win… I could pay off everything. For both of us. For the baby. I didn't want you to worry about anything anymore."

You stared at him, your heart aching at the sincerity in his voice, but the frustration didn't subside entirely. "So you thought it was okay to risk your life without telling me but not okay if I want to do the same? That's not protecting me, Dae-ho. That's keeping me in the dark."

"I know," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But when I saw you here…" He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling shakily. "I didn't know whether to be furious or terrified. And now we're both in this mess."

The silence stretched between you, heavy and tense. Finally, you sighed, the fight draining out of you. "As you said, we're in this together now," you said, your voice quieter. "Whether we like it or not."

He nodded, his eyes locking with yours. "And as I said, I'll make sure you make it out of here," he said firmly. "You and the baby. No matter what."

"And what about you?" you asked, your voice trembling. "What happens to you, Dae-ho?"

"That doesn't matter," he said without hesitation. "What matters is that you survive."

The conviction in his voice made your chest tighten, and you shook your head. "I'm not letting you sacrifice yourself for me. Not again."

"We'll figure it out," he assured softly, reaching out to take your hand. "One game at a time. But for now, promise me you'll stick with Jun-hee. Please."

You hesitated, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. Finally, you nodded. "Fine. But promise me something too."

"Anything," he said without missing a beat.

"You don't do anything reckless," you said, your voice firm. "No heroics, no self-sacrificing. If we're getting out of here, we're doing it together."

His lips curved into a faint smile, though his eyes remained serious. "Deal."

For the first time since joining these games and for the first time for a very long time, you felt a flicker of hope, fragile, but real. Whatever came next, at least you weren't alone.

Dae-ho let out a shaky breath, and before you could say another word, he sank to his knees in front of you. The sudden movement caught you off guard, but it wasn't until his arms wrapped gently around your waist that your breath hitched. He rested his forehead lightly against your stomach, his large hands cradling your sides with the utmost care, as though you might break.

"Dae-ho," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion.

He didn't respond immediately, just stayed there, holding you as if you were the most fragile, precious thing in the world. After a moment, he tilted his head slightly, his cheek pressing against your belly. His warm breath fanned through the fabric of your shirt, and when he spoke, his voice was soft, tender, almost reverent.

"I can't believe it," he murmured, his gaze softening as it dropped to your stomach. He placed a hand there, his palm warm and loving. "There's a piece of us right here." You couldn't help but smile.

His voice was quiet when he spoke again, the words almost a prayer.

"Hey, little one," he murmured, his words directed at the life growing inside you. "It's me… your dad."

Your hands moved instinctively, threading through his hair. The soft strands slipped between your fingers, grounding you in this surreal moment. Dae-ho closed his eyes at your touch, leaning into it like a man starved for comfort.

"You probably can't hear me yet, but…," he continued, his voice trembling slightly, "I need you to be strong, okay? Just like your mom. And I promise,  I'm going to do everything I can to keep you two safe. You're my whole world now, you know that? Both of you."

A lump formed in your throat as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. You hadn't expected this, this unfiltered love pouring from him. It made the weight of your circumstances feel both heavier and lighter at the same time.

"I bet you're going to be just like her," he said with a small chuckle, his hand gently rubbing your side. "Strong, smart, way too stubborn for your own good."

You let out a teary laugh, your fingers tightening in his hair. "Hey, don't encourage that."

He tilted his head back slightly, looking up at you with a crooked grin that melted your heart. "Can't help it. It's in the genes."

His gaze softened as he looked back at your stomach, and he pressed a gentle kiss to the fabric of your shirt, his lips lingering for a long moment. The action was so tender, so full of love, that it nearly brought you to your knees as well. He rested his forehead there again, his arms tightening around you.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. "For everything. For not being there when you needed me. For making you feel like you had to do this alone."

"Dae-ho," you whispered, your own voice cracking as you cupped his face, guiding him to look up at you. "You're with us. That's all that matters."

He swallowed hard, nodding as his hands slid down to hold yours. "I swear to you, I'm not going anywhere. I'll fight through hell if I have to. I'll keep you safe, no matter what it takes."

The tears you'd been holding back finally spilled over, and you knelt down with him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pressed your forehead against his. 

"We'll survive this," he repeated softly, his breath warm against your temple. "And when we get out… we'll make a real life together. The three of us."

You hesitated, your heart hammering as you realized it was the moment to tell him. "Four," you said softly, your hand covering his where it rested protectively over your stomach.

His body stiffened slightly, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Four?" His voice was cautious, almost as if he were afraid to hope.

You nodded, your throat tightening as emotion swelled. "Before I came here, I had a doctor's appointment, and… we're having twins, Dae-ho."

The silence that followed was deafening, his stillness unnerving. For a moment, you worried you'd broken him, but then he slightly leaned back on his knees, his eyes wide and glassy as they searched yours.

"Twins?" he repeated, the word barely audible. His hand shifted, trembling slightly as it moved to cradle your stomach. He said nothing for a while, just staring at you as if trying to comprehend what you'd just revealed. His lips parted, a shaky exhale escaping as his thumb traced over the fabric covering your belly.

"Twins," he repeated again, this time with a mix of wonder and disbelief. "We're having twins?"

A small smile tugged at your lips, despite the tears streaming down your face. "Yes. I wasn't sure how to tell you… or when. But yeah. Two little ones."

His head dropped, forehead again pressing gently against your stomach as he let out a quiet, shaky laugh. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. "Two," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't know whether to cry or laugh."

Your fingers softly tucked a strand of hair away from his beautiful face, "You can do both," you said gently, "I did."

He tilted his head up to look at you, and the raw emotion in his eyes took your breath away. His lips curved into a faint smile, one that didn't quite hide the tears slipping down his cheeks. "Twins," he said again, shaking his head slightly. "I didn't even know how I was going to handle one. Now there are two of them. Two little… us."

The way he said it, so in awe, so full of wonder, made your chest ache. "I wasn't planning on telling you here," you admitted, "Not in this nightmare. But I couldn't… I couldn't keep it to myself anymore."

"I'm glad you didn't," he said, his voice steadying. He cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears you didn't even realize had fallen. "No matter what happens in this hellhole, no matter how dark it gets, knowing they're waiting for us? It's everything."

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Dae-ho, we can't let this place take us."

"It won't," he said firmly, his jaw tightening. "I won't let it. We'll make it. I'll make damn sure of it."

His hands slipped back down to your waist, his fingers splaying over your belly as though he could somehow shield the life growing inside you from the horrors outside. "Two little heartbeats," he murmured, his voice softening. "Do you know what that means?"

You tilted your head, a small smile playing on your lips. "What?"

"It means we're going to need twice the strength," his gaze locked with yours, "But it also means we've got twice the reason to fight. Twice the reason to win."

You leaned forward, your noses almost touching, your hands covering his on your stomach. "We'll do it together," you assured quietly. "The four of us."

"The four of us," he echoed, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss so tender it left you breathless. "You're stuck with me now. Forever."

You let out another teary laugh, the sound mingling with his soft chuckle. "I've been stuck with you for years, Dae-ho. And I wouldn't have it any other way."

For a moment, the world outside that room, the horrors of the games, didn't exist. It was just two lovers holding onto each other and the heartwarming hope bound on a fragile string of the future that was worth fighting for. You allowed yourselves to feel it, this unwavering love, this promising hope that had been buried beneath the fear. It wasn't much, but it was enough to remind you both why you were fighting, to survive, to protect, and to make it out of this nightmare as a family.

And whatever came next, you knew you wouldn't face it alone.

[hypewinter]

Hear me out! Danny finds his human form slowly getting more eldrich as he gets older (and more powerful) and ends up going to Gotham where people are way less likely to ask questions!

Sadly when the people of Gotham see Danny, oops my shadow has eyes now, Fenton they just assume he's gonna be a new Rouge!

Que the bat fam watching Danny waiting for him to make his move, over-analyzing everything he does. Mans can't even buy a new laptop without Bruce breathing down his neck about it

This would be an issue if Danny wasn't such a little troll, and he starts buying more obviously ominous things only to openly use them in improperly boring and normal ways. Like buys a death lazer and can be seen using it to make toast, buys a cursed box full of death themed artifacts and uses it as a coffee table, that kinda stuff.

Every time the bat's assume 'this is it!' And gets ready to take him down, only to see Danny setting up a new 'coat rack' made of kriptonite

Even better when they see him tinkering on some kind of doomsday device, the kind that looks super evil and dangerous and even has a red count down timer on the front and- it's a fucking air frier again! He already has three! Why does he keep making air friers?! Obviously this must be some kind of scheme

I raise you: Danny starts selling his things out to random citizens (they've all been intensely screened). The bats panic thinking this is an attempt to cripple Gotham in one fell swoop. Nope. Ms. Randall just really needed a new air purifier and Danny had a toxin dispenser that was just collecting dust.

I imagine though that he might start to notice that the bats are focusing on him a little too much which is a problem considering there are things going down in Gotham that actually need their attention. But at the same time, our resident ghost boy isn't ready to stop being a menace just yet. So what does he do? Kill too birds with one stone.

Whenever Danny catches wind of a new plot going down, he does something to draw the bats's attention to it. Two Face planning a robbery? Suddenly Danny is showing up to the bank everyday to work on the vault (he offered to reinforce it for free). The bats get so suspicious they focus hard on the bank and discover Two Face's plot before he can do anything.

The bats pat themselves on the back while Danny giggles in the background. Wonder how long it will take for them to figure out what's going on.

[taegimood]

— nudes?! (k.th) ♡

pairing: kang taehyun x fem!reader genre: best friends to ?, non-idol au, suggestive rating: nsfw, mdni wc: 1.4k warnings: mention/description of reader's nudes, mention of reader in lingerie, implication of sexy time at the end, tyun gets hard and is v clear abt what he wants, they’re both horny asf synopsis: what happens when your best friend who secretly has the hots for you accidentally sees your nudes?

requested forever ago by @mapofthemazeinthemirror <3 [blog status: semi-hiatus, requests closed]

| yeonjun ver. | soobin ver. | beomgyu ver. | kai ver. |

masterlist

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taehyun considers you one of the bros.

right up there along with his 4 other crazy best friends, you fit right in, no sideways feelings to worry about and endless wingman opportunities to gain — hell, he even forgets sometimes that you've got a pair of boobs under there somewhere.

and all of this, of course, is completely and absolutely:

not true.

it's exactly what you seem to think in that pretty little head of yours, though, as taehyun often observes; it's quite cute actually, he thinks.

"out of all the guys i could like, why does it have to be the one guy in my life who would draft me onto his football team if he had one?" he'd overheard you complaining to yeonjun one day.

(sorry, but trust me, sweetheart - you wouldn't even make it past tryouts, he'd thought afterwards upon fighting back a laugh and an endeared little grin.)

oh, if only you knew.

if only you knew the steady breaths he has to take whenever you stand so temptingly close to him; or how many filthy images he has to shake out of his mind when he's helping you with your workouts; or that annoying little shadow called jealousy that he has to push down when you smile so sweetly at a man that isn't him.

taehyun is a man of self control, and a man who would do anything for the people that he loves — which means that no matter how much he'd enjoy changing your mind about what exactly you assume he perceives you as, he knows for the sake of your friendship that he can't.

and so he doesn't.

but oh, you wish that he would.

taehyun is quite good at keeping his feelings in check, to the point where you're convinced at this point that if you were to strut naked across the room in front of him, he wouldn't even pay you any mind;

pft, you scoff at your own silly thought, as if something so ridiculous would ever happen. (…well....)

today you've decided that you're getting real tired of your own pining and yearning and eyes that shoot hearts like confetti every time your best friend walks into the room —

you pout at the sight of yourself reflected on the open camera screen of your phone as the self-timer counts down yet again. this has become quite the routine of yours.

body bare save for the lacy lingerie that doesn’t cover much of anything as you perch at the edge of your bed, posing so prettily, so sensually, just the way you imagine taehyun would like; just more photos to add to the naughty little album in your camera roll that you wish you could send to him but know that you never will.

there was a time where you used to try testing the waters a bit, some flirting here, a fleeting touch or two there. but you'd quickly learned how pointless it was. after all, a brick wall is never gonna flirt back.

you sigh. it's time to get going anyway; speak of the devil, he'll be here to pick you up in 20 minutes.

~

taehyun can see in his peripheral the way you keep glancing at him from the passenger seat of his car.

as usual, he maintains an even expression. "excited to see me or something?"

his lips quirk as you jump in your seat a little, quickly looking forwards and crossing your arms as you grumble, "you wish. i just saw you like two days ago."

he merely hums in acknowledgment, which gets you even more grumbly — ("no fair that i can never get a reaction out of you! why is it always me?!" you'd wailed in defeat one time after a failed attempt to get him back, your cheeks flushed pink and pretty).

taehyun smiles.

when he soon pulls up outside your friend's apartment building that you’d needed to drop something off at first on the way to yeonjun’s, he decides to be nice as he asks,

"where was that new cat café you wanted to go to? we can stop there before meeting the guys."

bingo. the smile that lights up your face is exactly what he was looking for as your previous pout melts away and you gasp, "really?! okay wait, i took a screenshot of their instagram page the other day, you can check and put the address in! i'll be super super quick!"

he bites back a laugh as you shove your phone into his hands and excitedly rush out of the car.

"5 minutes tops or i'm going without you!" he calls out the window, to which you shriek and scurry away even faster.

he grins to himself, shaking his head as you disappear into the building and he turns to click open your camera roll.

"alright, cat café, where are............ you."

taehyun feels as if a lightning rod has just shot straight through his entire body.

his muscles tense. all his breath escapes him in a rush.

you...

the sight of you is what greets him through the screen...

you,

completely naked.

it's like his skin is consumed by fire as his eyes roam across the rows of pictures in the album you'd left open; most taken on your bed, some in the shower at the gym that you both go to together, some where you’re donned in sets of delicious lingerie — his eyes widening and pants tightening when he even spots one from his own room, your skirt hiked up in the reflection of his full-length mirror as your panties dangle cheekily from one finger, leaving the delicious curve of your ass on full display.

when did she even take that??

he scrolls, and he's barely hanging on by a thread as his best friend who's supposed to stay his best friend poses so irresistibly pretty from the screen; his cock is so hard that it's painful as your big innocent eyes look up at him in complete contrast to the lewd position that you'd put yourself in.

god, the positions he wants to put you in...

alright, reel it in, kang taehyun. this can't go anywhere. you have to take it to the grave. you’ve gotta think about the friendship. you’ll just pretend you didn't see it. you’ll act aloof like you always do.

but every single ounce of self control that taehyun has spent so long holding together finally crashes down around him like a breaking dam when his gaze lands on the name of the album at the top of the screen.

— t ♡

his cock jumps.

fucking hell, these are for me.

when you skip your way back to the car minutes later, you don't notice at first how firmly he's gripping the steering wheel or the fact that he isn’t even looking at you, remaining staring straight ahead as you climb back into the passenger side.

you don't notice — that is, until your phone catches your eye, set neatly on the middle console with your worst nightmare staring right back up at you from the screen.

it feels as though a bucket of ice water has crash landed down on your head (both the water and the bucket) as you realize what happened.

but you barely even have the time to panic or react or beg for mercy, or perhaps for a lobotomy on you both, before taehyun is asking you:

"back seat or my place?"

his voice is so calm that you almost don't process his words. your thoughts buffer as you pause.

"wh... what?" you breathe.

that's when he finally turns his head to look at you, and the intensity of the hunger swimming in his stare is enough to leave you even more winded than you already were before as a familiar feeling stirs between your legs and your thighs clamp together of their own accord.

"back seat," he repeats slowly, "or my place?"

you swallow hard.

this.. t-this is... he means.…

your head is reeling, and dumbly you stammer back, "w-what about the guys..?" as if the plans with your friends really matter anymore in a moment like this.

fuck the guys. fuck the cat café. taehyun has already decided: he’s done holding back from what he wants, and what he wants is to make you his.

you blink at him wide-eyed as he leans towards you slightly in his seat, his voice low and assertive as he replies,

"we're not going."

he taps your phone as if to draw your attention back to it. as if it should be obvious.

"so, you choose." your eyes fly back up to his —

"where do you want me to fuck you?"

your lower belly explodes with heat as an electric shiver rolls down your spine, and you swear that this is the best day of your entire fucking life as you see the promise that flickers in his eyes.

maybe you won't be finding yourself on the football team after all.

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— taglist: @razsberrie, @saejinniestar, @hyukalyptus, @florestalio, @beomiracles, @kiss4baku, @kejingken, @hyukascampfire, @cherr4es, @stawmerry, @choikanghuening, @dawngyu, @soo-blue, @paradigms13

if you want to be added to my taglist and get notified whenever i post any writing, drop a comment or an ask and let me know! ♡

[munsonsmixtapes]

Made With Love

dad!simon x mom!reader

You and your daughter make Simon a cake for his birthday and the three of you celebrate together.

All the ingredients for the cake your baking are all over the counter as you whisk the batter together. Your daughter is in front of you, helping you whisk and you can’t help but smile down at her, seeing her eyes fixed with concentration on her tasks. When she gets like this, you can’t help but think about how much she resembles her father. 

The cake is for him-for his birthday that he always claims that he doesn’t care about but you know that’s not true. Not when he smiles down at the cake you make him year after year. He won’t accept gifts but this, he’ll take gladly. It’s the thought that counts in his eyes and the fact that you’ve done anything at all for him means the world in his eyes. 

And you know that it’ll mean even more to him that your daughter has helped with making the cake. He loves the girl with everything he is. Every time he opens his wallet and sees the photo of the two of you, his heart swells with more love than he knows what to do with. Not a day goes by where he doesn’t think he’s the luckiest man alive to have the two of you in his life. 

“Alright, time to pour the batter into the pan, but mommy has to do this part, okay?” You tell Layla and she nods in understanding as she lets go of the whisk. You pour the batter into the pan and put it into the already preheated oven before setting a timer. 

You’re nervous for tonight since you have much more planned than just the cake this time. You went out and got Simon’s favorite movie as well as the snacks you know he likes, but that’s not what’s got you so anxious. You impulsively bought some lingerie and have it hidden in the closet where you know he won’t find it. You’ve been saving it for a special occasion and you think tonight is the perfect time to finally wear it, deciding that you want Simon to unwrap you. 

But you’re not even sure that you’ll go through with it. You’ve had sex plenty of times since Layla was born but it’s always been quickies. Most of the time, you’re both too exhausted with your jobs as well as raising your now five-year-old that you always end up falling asleep before sex is even a thought. 

Your parents are watching Layla so you and Simon can have a date night and you can’t help but smile at how excited she is. She’s talked about it nonstop since you told her the news and you love that she sees her grandparents’ house as a safe space. That she loves them that much that she doesn’t even seem to be afraid of being away from you for the night. You’re glad that she at least has one set of grandparents that wants to spend time with her. 

Simon’s relationship with his parents has been rocky since the two of you started dating. They didn’t like that he decided he no longer wanted to join the military nor that the two of you were engaged without their approval. They didn’t like you to begin with. They hated that you encouraged him to follow his dreams and not the plan that they laid out for him.

From then on, they shut him out. They didn’t come to the wedding even though they were invited and haven’t reached out in the ten years that you’ve been together. You’ve sent them countless Christmas cards, showing them how your family has grown-how Layla has grown and yet, have received nothing back. And you don’t even care that they don’t want to talk to you, you’re just outraged that they’re letting their anger get in the way of having a relationship with their grandchild just because they don’t like you. 

You’re pulled out of your thoughts when you hear the front open and close. Simon comes into view and you can’t help but think that he’s earlier than usual. You thought you had at least an extra hour but now he’s here and the cake isn’t finished. Your panic dissipates when he smiles brightly as his eyes lock on yours. 

Simon steps forward and just when he’s about to make a beeline for you for a kiss, Layla jumps down from the chair she was standing on and races towards Simon, your heart warming at how much she loves him. 

“Daddy!” she squeals as she gets to him and he scoops her up into his arms. 

“Hey, princess,” he replies, pressing a kiss to her cheek. When the two of them turn to look at you, you can’t help but think about how it’s like his face was copied and pasted onto hers. Simon always talks about how she looks just like you, but you’re sure that the only thing she got from you is the inability to stop talking. 

“Something smells good,” he says as he sets Layla on the counter as he pulls you in for a quick kiss. 

“It’s your cake,” Layla tells him, her smile matching her dad’s. He’s grinning now and you’re tempted to take out your phone and snap a picture of him like this. He just seems so happy and you always want him to feel this way. Especially on his special day. 

“My cake?” He asks, feigning confusion, as if you haven’t been keeping up this exact tradition for a decade now. He looks forward to it every time. He counts down the minutes until he can race home to his wife and daughter and enjoy the cake you’ve both made for him as well as his favorite dish that he sees cooling off on the counter. 

"It's made with love!" she says which she's heard you tell Simon every year.

He’s never felt so loved in his life, not until you came around. You showed up and suddenly his very gray life was suddenly filled with color. He suddenly realized that there was more to life than what his parents laid out for him. He had the ability to do whatever he wanted, and he wanted to marry you. As upset as he is that he hasn’t seen his parents since the day he introduced you to them, he wouldn’t trade that for anything. He has you and Layla and that’s all he needs.

“Double chocolate,” you confirm with a nod and you swear the grin on his face gets even wider. 

“I have a present for you,” Layla says, kicking her feet in excitement and you help her down from the counter so she can head to her room to grab it. As soon as Simon hears her door slam, he pulls you to his chest, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist. 

“I feel so spoiled,” he says as he lips finds yours, slotting between them as he pulls you even closer to him. 

“Just wait until you see what I saved for dessert,” you tell him, attempting to make your voice seductive and you feel his cock getting hard against you. Your moment, however, is cut short by little feet slapping against the floor as your daughter hurries back into the kitchen. You and Simon quickly pull away to see that’s got a folded piece of paper in her hand as well as what looks like a green paper crown in her hands.

“What’s this?” He asks as he takes the gifts from her and she smiles proudly up at him, so happy with herself at how her gifts came out. 

“It’s a card and I also made you a crown.” Simon feels like he could cry as he looks at the things his daughter has made for him, how she wanted to create something with her tiny hands. How she’s looking up at him with that little smile that always reminds him of you. 

“Here, you put it on me, while I look at the card.” Simon crouches as Layla takes the crown from him, her tongue sticking out in concentration as she puts the crown on her dad’s head. He opens the card and can’t help but smile as he sees the little note written in orange crayon in her messy five-year-old handwriting. 

Happy birthday daddy

I love you this much

Even though it’s only a few words, it takes up the entire side of the page with a tiny picture of what he assumes is her holding her arms out to signify just how she loves him. On the other side is a drawing of the three of you and what he assumes is the puppy she’s been asking for months-very subtle. 

“This is so sweet, princess. Thank you” he says as he looks at her again. “And I love you this big,” he holds his arms out as wide as he can. “Now give me some sugar,” he says and she steps into his arms before pressing a kiss to his cheek. She then wraps her little arms around his neck, giving him a squeeze before pulling away. 

Simon then stands to his feet and puts the card on the fridge where it belongs and turns around to see you putting the now baked cake on the counter before pulling plates from the cabinet and serving the three of you some of the mac and cheese you’ve made along with a few sides to make it more filling. 

The three of you take your plates to the living room where you enjoy your meal on the couch as you watch the movie you picked out for Simon-Howl’s Moving Castle-that you’ve already watched three times this week with Layla already. But you don’t mind at all watching it again.

After dinner is done and cake is had, the three of you snuggle up, a blanket across your laps. Simon is between you and Layla as the two of you are laying on each of his shoulders. His arms are around either of you in a protective manner and he can’t help but smile to himself as he thinks that this is the best birthday he’s ever had. But he knows next year will easily top it, especially if you’re in charge of planning it. 

A knock at the front door stirs you from your sleep. You rub your eyes as they open, wondering to yourself when you fell asleep and turn to the TV to see that the movie has ended. You turn it off and in your sleepy state turn to see your husband and daughter asleep in each other’s arms, mouths wide open as they snore softly. 

“Layla, honey,” you shake her shoulder lightly and her bright eyes open. “Grandma and Grandpa are here. C’mon, baby,” you hold your arms out and she grabs hold of your neck as you lift her from the couch. 

You carry her over to the door, grateful that you already put her in her pajamas before having dessert. You then grab her backpack and shoes before opening the door, smiling widely at your parents, your daughter rubbing at her eyes as she’s passed off to your mother. 

“Thank you so much for doing this,” you tell her, looking from her to your father and they both smile widely. 

“Happy to do it,” your father smiles. “Now the two of you have a good night. Are we still on for dinner tomorrow night? We still have to give Simon his gift.”

“Of course,” you nod, your heart warming at how they’ve adopted him into the family, treating them like one of their own children. They loved him the first time the four of you had dinner and have especially wanted to be parental figures to him since his own don’t want anything to do with him. “Love you.”

“Love you too, sweetheart. Now get some rest.” With that, they take Layla’s backpack and socks and shoes and turn to head down the steps of your porch. You shut the door and lock it back before cleaning up the mess in the kitchen, deciding that you’re not in the mood to put out tonight. The lingerie is going to sit in the closet for just a little longer, you suppose. 

Once the kitchen is put back together, you enter the living room, shaking Simon’s shoulder lightly while whispering his name until his eyes open. You wordlessly pull him up from the couch and lead him to your bedroom where you both silently get ready for bed. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighs after he spits his toothpaste into the sink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I know you had something special planned, but I’m just-so tired.”

“No, hey, I fell asleep too. C’mon, let’s just go to bed and I promise I can give you your present in the morning.” He loves the sound of that and is looking forward to seeing what you have in store for him.

“Deal,” he smiles, putting his toothbrush back into the little cup where yours sits then pulls you in for a kiss. This one is longer and deeper than the one you shared in the kitchen. It’s sweet and loving, Simon pouring out his appreciation for you into it. He pulls away all too soon and that smile he’s been wearing all night makes a reappearance. 

“I love you,” he says and it’s that dreamy tone that you hear all the time. The tone that says that he can’t believe how lucky he is, but you’re the lucky one here. He sacrificed so much to be with you and for that you will forever be grateful. 

“I love you too.” Your smile matches his and he leads you back into your bedroom where you both change into pajamas and get into bed. You snuggle up into each other’s arms as Simon tells you how much he’s grateful for you and Layla over and over until the two of you drift off to sleep with smiles planted on your lips.

part two

[yuwuta]

VITAMIN ME — JUJUTSU KAISEN BOYS + SICK FIC

featuring. gojo, toji, inumaki, nanami, okkotsu, itadori, choso, fushiguro

content. taking care of the boys/the boys taking care of you when feeling sick, all fluff, no warnings 

word count. 2.5k 

SATORU GOJO

He doesn’t feel under the weather often, but when he does, it hits him tenfold. He’s whiny, dramatic, borderline inconsolable, and feels well within his rights to demand your undivided attention, because he’s not usually like this… sick, that is (he is usually whiny and dramatic, no illness in the world could take that away from him).

You and him both know when he’s dragging it, but you can’t help but to feel bad for him. Because when Satoru is sick, he’s sick—you feel like you need to constantly monitor all his vitals, set a timer to make sure he gets medication because he’s so cold and pale and sluggish, it’s worrisome. Of course, he finds the strength to tease you, “You worried about little old me, sweets? Don’t be—‘m gonna be fine, you know. But I hear kisses cure the flu.”

“Not scientifically proven, or peer reviewed,” you tell him, “But you know what is? Tylenol. Time for more, open up, Satoru.” 

“Will I get a kiss? Just a little one?” 

He gives you a hard time, even in sickness, but it’s only because he absolutely relishes being in your care, thinks you’re good at taking care of him; proven by the way you give in with a nod, and then a kiss after he takes his medication. He really does feel like shit right now, but with you here, caring for him, his heart has expanded ten times and a warmth spills into his chest that makes the pain insignificant. Satoru feels honored and humbled to have someone fuss over him like this—to have this concrete reminder that you worry for him and care about him and love him just like he loves you.

TOJI FUSHIGURO 

“You gonna feed me?” Toji grumbles, sounding much less threatening with a frog in his throat, “Because there’s no way I’m drinking that.” 

You roll your eyes, lightly tapping the spoon against the edge of the mug before placing it onto the coffee table and extending your arms towards Toji, “The ginger is good for you. The lemon, too, if you wanna stop sounding like a low-budget villain anytime soon.” 

Toji’s nose scrunches—it’s almost cute, if it weren’t followed by an infuriatingly stubborn turn of his jaw, pointedly away from you and back to the television. You huff, sitting down next to him—or as close as you can get through his mountain of blankets and forcefield of pillows—carefully nursing the cup in your palms. 

Who would have thought that the great Toji Fushiguro would be so stubborn as to let a little cold get the best of him. Him attempting to suffer without cold medicine wasn’t that surprising, but you didn’t think that he’d petulantly refuse tea just because of some ginger. Getting him to take his antibiotics only worked when you told him you’d boot him onto the couch if he didn’t, but that won’t work this time, he’ll call your bluff. 

You sigh, moving a pillow to your other side and reaching over to the coffee table to redeem your spoon. You fold one leg under the other and turn your body to Toji’s, scooping tea into the spoon, giving it a soft blow, and then raising it to his face. He quirks an eyebrow when he feels the steam brushing against his skin, and turns to you with a hellish grin.

He opens his mouth, to say something slick no doubt, but you take advantage of the opportunity to shove the spoon in his mouth, “You don’t get to talk until after you finish your tea.”

TOGE INUMAKI

Despite being a renowned insomniac and someone who is willing to throw away hours of sleep to binge watch his favorite series or complete a new game, Toge does believe that rest is the best medicine. He does take his own sleep seriously—it’s not his fault that most people consider his preferred sleeping hours to be regular waking hours.

So, even though it sounds a bit hypocritical, Toge is very firm about you resting as much as you can when you’re not feeling well. He’s quick to make a cocoon out of you in your two favorite blankets and fit you onto the couch to keep you within sight as he rummages around the kitchen to prepare your meals, and make sure that you don’t skimp out on your medication. He’s got some pretty effective homemade remedies for a killer sore throat, but cough syrup is cough syrup—he knows it tastes horrible, but if he has to force feed it to you, then so be it.

He feeds you spoonfuls of homemade broth and rice to make up for it, giggling as you scrunch your nose from the taste of the medicine. When you’re finished, he lets you tell him off and forgoes teasing you about how nasally you sound as he coerces you to lay down again. You don’t feel sleepy, but when Toge’s lips brush against your forehead, his words are like a spell that makes your eyes flutter shut, “Sleep, my love.”

KENTO NANAMI

“It’s cold, Ken,” you whine, sniffling at the end of your sentence. Kento sighs softly, switching off the light to the bathroom and taking careful strides to the bed. He carefully sits on the edge of the bed, expression sympathetic as you complain about the temperature again.

The room is actually slightly warmer than normal per your earlier request, but he knows you still feel cold because of how high your temperature is. It's exactly why he took your blanket from you—fuzzy, and warm, and weighted would all be enticing and acceptable if you weren’t running a very concerning fever. Kento absolutely hates to say no to you, but he has to do something to break your fever. 

“I know, darling,” he nods gently, settling himself onto his side of the bed. He’d prefer to have the comfort of a heavy blanket right now, too, but he wouldn’t taunt you like that—if you have to sleep without one, then so will he. He should get you another cold towel for your forehead, but you tug on his heartstrings when you scoot yourself closer to him, nose nudging against his thigh. He smiles softly, carefully reaching to tap at your arms, “Come here.”

You shuffle upwards and into his arms, cheek pressed against his chest with your arms coming to wrap around his torso. Kento lets you melt into him and wraps strong arms around your body to keep you close—body heat will have to do for now.

YUUTA OKKOTSU

Yuuta walks—waddles, really—with his blanket over his shoulders, mouth slightly ajar, and a box of tissue in his hand for good measure. He looks cute despite his febrile state, with his nose red and eyes wide and you have to resist the urge to coo at him.

“I thought the Benadryl would have kept you asleep at least a little longer,” you smile, turning off the heat underneath the pot.

“Something smelled good... and I got hungry,” Yuuta shrugs weakly, taking the remaining steps into the kitchen and plopping his body weight onto a stool at the island. He sniffles deeply, setting his box of tissues down on the counter, before pointing at the lowly simmering pot behind you, “Is that… for me?”

“No, it’s for my other sick boyfriend,” you grin, reaching into a nearby cabinet for a bowl. You giggle when you see Yuuta’s pouty expression, cheeks a light pink and bottom lip jutted slightly.

“It’s not nice to make fun of the ill,” he coughs. His façade is waning, already weakened by his sick state, and crumbling when you push a warm bowl of his favorite soup in front of him. You can’t help but to laugh a little louder because Yuuta’s eyes practically grow three sizes and you swear he’s salivating a little. 

He shakes away the shock, turning with a pout when he realizes you’re poking fun at him again, “You’re doing it again. Now you owe me a kiss.” 

“Do I?” you tease, taking the seat on the stool next to him, elbows resting on the counter, as you peer up at Yuuta’s flushed face. You’ll let him ride the excuse his blush being the fever for a little longer, “That’s risky. I might get sick, and I have a very cute boyfriend to take care of.”

“I’ll take care of you, too,” Yuuta all but whispers, tired eyes fluttering to your lips, “In sickness and in health, right?”

He leans down a bit and you meet him for a quick kiss, pulling away to smile, “I thought that was for married couples.” 

“I’ll fix that soon,” Yuuta smiles, satisfied. You giggle, reaching out to poke his red nose and then his cheek to turn his face back to his soup. 

“Well, then go ahead and eat and get well soon,” you muse, leaning forward to kiss his cheek, “I expect a very romantic proposal from an un-sick lover boy.”

YUUJI ITADORI

You should have known that Nobara was going to rat you out sooner or later, if not for your own wellbeing, then for hers—because despite your roommate being a caring soul beneath her tough exterior, she is not caring enough to risk her own health because you’re sniffling all over your shared apartment; especially not before she’s supposed to go on her first vacation with her boyfriend.

On the third day of coughing, Nobara tells you she’s going to camp out with Megumi until her flight, and that Yuuji is the person she’s entrusted with her keys until she returns back from her trip. So, it’s not a surprise that a mere hour later, you find Yuuji all but barreling through your front door with grocery bags in hand, all of which he promptly drops when he hears you hacking out your lungs on the couch, quick to dart to your side and hold your cup as you shakily drink some water.

“Babe! You’re, like, super sick,” he exclaims, now sitting criss-cross on your living room floor, slowly unpacking the grocery bags for a real-time haul, “You should have told me earlier, I could have gotten you all this stuff way sooner!”

“I’m fine, Yuuji. It’s a mild cold at most,” you reassure him, smiling to yourself as he rips open a new box of Kleenex and thrusts it in your direction. He looks at you with furrowed eyebrows, untrusting of your words, before he springs up with the last grocery bag in hand.

“Well, still... I’m not a doctor, but I got all the medications Nanamin told me to get, so we’re gonna get this cold out of you in no time,” he grins, patting your head before leaning down to kiss your forehead, “In the meantime, how about some soup? Oh—I just saw a recipe for something spicy, that should help with your nose right? Or maybe ramen? Leave it to me!”

CHOSO KAMO

You couldn’t help but to snap one more picture of Choso. You felt bad, a little bit, he was tired and sick and probably felt like crap, but he looked very cute when he was sleepy, cuddled up in fuzzy blankets from head to toe, with just enough space to expose his tired eyes and red nose. One more wouldn’t hurt. 

You smile to yourself as you look back at him, slipping your phone into your pocket and walking over to join Choso on the couch. There’s not enough room for you to sit in the seat, so you have to cotch yourself in the arm of the couch closest to his head and gently reach out to move a stray strand of hair away from his eyes. It would make for another cute picture, but you refrain, choosing to lean down and press a kiss to his forehead instead, before standing to start picking up the spare tissue and cough drop wrappers littered around him.

You always tell him he’s going to worry himself sick, and he’s managed to do just that. It was a little fun, a little cute, but mostly, you’re just happy that Choso is resting. You know that sleep doesn’t come easily to him under normal circumstances; if being a little under the weather is what gets your boyfriend to slow down and care for his body, then so be it; you’ll be there to help him out.

You’re about to head into the kitchen, when you’re stopped by a warm hand brushing against your leg. You turn to see Choso limply reaching out of your, slowly blinking awake, before weakly beckoning for you again, “Stay here,” he croaks, “Please?”

You smile, placing the gathered trash onto the coffee table, before burying yourself within Choso’s blankets. You have to do a little wiggling to get underneath him, but Choso doesn’t mind, happily resting his weight against you, eyes already fluttering closed again, not before he lets you a meek, “Thank you. I love you.”

You give him one final kiss to the crown of his head, “I love you, too.” 

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

“Megumi, are you… okay?” you question softly, leaning over the small restaurant table to squint at your boyfriend. You’d been watching him carefully since he’d picked you up from your house, deducing that something was definitely wrong, even if Megumi had been trying his best to hide it.

He could be quiet, but he was definitely not soft spoken, nor did he normally wince after swallowing a bite of his food. You should have known something was off from the start, when you’d held hands on your walk and Megumi’s fingers were warm, and not icicles attached to his palm.

Megumi freezes, mouth gaping slightly, before he closes it and composes himself with slumped shoulders—he’d considered keeping up his brave front, but it’d be futile at this point, so he sighs, “My throat hurts, is all,” he confesses, the hoarseness of his tired voice peeking through, “I had a fever yesterday, but it was fine this morning.”

You lean over a little more, just enough to be able to extend your hand so that the back of your palm meets Megumi’s forehead. It’s warm, to no surprise, and you find yourself tutting, recoiling your hand slightly, with enough space to flick him.

“Ow?” He groans, and you only roll your eyes. You pull back to fish through your bag, to pull out some cash and leave it on the table. Megumi begins to question you, but you’re not hearing it, getting up to sling your purse over your shoulder and grab your boyfriend by the forearm.

“You’re an idiot,” you scold, ushering him out of the restaurant, “We are going to urgent care to get you a strep test, and then to that bakery Nanami tells us not to tell anyone about to get you soup, and then you are going to sit and eat it and contemplate your actions for the rest of the evening.”

Megumi lets himself be dragged away—another tell-tale sign that he really is feeling under the weather (which is also what he chooses to blame his blush on). If “contemplating his actions,” was code word for you hovering over him for a bit, then maybe he wouldn’t mind.

[nev3rfound]

it's already done : b.b

it was a simple arrangement until it got complicated.

wc: 1.2k

mentions of injuries, angst, fluff.

bet you never thought you'd read from me again, huh? same. but like so many, i got drawn back in post thunderbolts.

masterlist 

The shirt reeked of perfume and the memories of last night. Laced into the cotton contained decisions you shouldn't have made fading like the scent of rose in the collar.

Besides you, he remains perfectly still. The only movement is his chest rising and falling peacefully, lost in a dream world where the reality of the situation hasn't sunk in yet.

Rubbing your eyes, you force yourself off the bed slowly, feeling the mattress rise at the sudden movement. Glancing over your shoulder, you check to ensure he's asleep and silently sigh in relief.

Picking up your shirt and pants, you slip them on as you tiptoe toward the door, barely allowing yourself a chance to admire the collection of photographs from his past and ornaments he found from his adolescence, now gathering dust.

"You know, sneaking out on a dame in the morning was my move." Freezing at the door, you swear under your breath at his groggy morning voice, hating how your heart began to soar from the interruption of your internal monologue.

"I didn't think you'd notice me leave." You admit, speaking just above a whisper.

Bucky forces himself to sit upright, hair falling in his face, knowing that whilst your back is turned, the small frown on his face can remain.

Turning on your heels, keeping your clothes close to your chest, Bucky sits with the sheets resting on his hips, leaving his chest exposed as a sheen of sweat glistens over it.

"Do you forget I was a soldier, doll?" Bucky breathes out a laugh, noticing a glimpse of a smile cross your lips.

"Sometimes," You shrug. "especially when you're a softie who cuddles in his sleep." A chuckle passes from you, and Bucky glances away. "Anyway, thanks for last night."

Pursing his lips, Bucky fails to find the right words and allows you to slip out from his room once again without saying the truth.

*

With heavy eyes, you try to read over the mission report but the words continue to blur together on the screen.

"Someone had a late night, huh?" Yelena chuckles, raising an eyebrow and catching the slight pink rising up your neck at her comment.

"What can I say?" You shrug, a crass smile briefly on your lips at the thought of last night, and the previous nights before.

Yelena sighs, leaning back in her seat opposite you, crossing her arms in defeat. "I just don't get why you don't date. It's obvious you two have feelings for one another." She states it as fact, resulting in you laughing at such.

"Good joke, Lena." You brush the statement off, missing the look she shares with Ava, now sitting up front in the SUV. "But we get on as friends, and friends who have fun every now and then." Shrugging it off, you return your attention to your screen.

It was an in-and-out mission. Recover some missing files stolen about Sentry, even though Valentina assured they were all burnt, when she conveniently tried to kill you all. A simple mission, only requiring three of you to go and be back in time for Bob's latest cooking conquest.

Turns out, the mission was anything but in-and-out. Instead, you were greeted with a hailstorm of bullets while Ava shifted in and out, taking down the assailants with Yelena, whilst you were tasked with gathering the files in question.

Locating the files was the easy part, but upon retrieving the USB drive Val informed you of, the laptop flashed a timer on the screen, counting down from 30. "Fuck." You mutter, quickly backing away into the eerie silence of the corridor. "Guys?" Yelling, you rush toward the direction of grunts and screams.

Wiping her brow with a gun in hand, Yelena catches the panic setting into your gaze. "What is it?"

"There's a-" Before you could finish the sentence, the explosion sets off, causing the room behind you to implode and the corridor ceiling to shatter into shards around you.

"Y/n!" Yelena's muffled voice calls out, but you're acutely aware of the glass shards now buried into various ligaments, and the ringing in your ears drowning out the pleas from your friend. Dust clouds your vision as heat rises around you. "Back up, medic, any fucking thing!" Her demands begin to fade as your eyes start to close, the weight of it all beginning to settle.

You didn't even say goodbye to Bucky.

*

"She's going to wake up, right?" Bob is the first to speak up, seeing you lying unconscious on the stretcher being escorted through the watch tower to the newly sterile med bay. "She'll be fine, of course she will." He assures himself quietly, aware of Bucky's fists clenching and releasing repeatedly.

No one had any answers, no one knew what had happened, no one could tell them anything about your condition or if you were going to pull through. And worst of all, Bucky hadn't been honest with you, and now you might be gone.

He'd never seen you look so fragile, covered in cuts, blood staining your clothes and smoke marking your skin. Even when sharing your deepest secrets together, you held your own, but now, with your eyes closed and lips turned down in pain, he struggles to keep it together.

"Barnes." One of the medics, Simon, calls him to follow.

Quick on his heels, Bucky remains eerily silent, his mind whirring with everything he should've said, every missed opportunity to be more than just friends.

The smell hits him first, the antiseptic and alcohol clings to his senses. "Bucky," Yelena's voice is raspy, she too isn't in the best state, but stable enough to now sit beside your bed.

Now looking down at you, Bucky can feel his heart twist. You've been cleaned up, but he knows you;re in pain, still unconscious. "What have they said?" He cooly asks, now blankly meeting Yelena's gaze.

"They say she's lucky." Trying to compose herself, she sniffles. "No glass penetrated any vital organs, she lost a lot of blood, broken ribs, concussion, potential hearing loss, broken collarbone and right leg." Listing off the injuries, Bucky's eyes scan over your body, how different it was from the one he fell asleep with in his arms last night.

Taking his prolonged silence as the time to leave, Yelena squeezes your hand. "We all love her, Bucky." Yelena states, leaving Bucky with those words as she departs the ward.

Now perched in Yelena's vacant chair, Bucky grasps hold of your limp hand, flinching at the red marks and cuts coating your skin. "Oh, doll," He mumbles. "You're so annoying at times, you know that, right?" An involuntary laugh leaves him. "Look at me, it was meant to be a no-strings-attached arrangement, or whatever you called it." Bucky sighs, running his metal fingers through his hair.

"And here I am, the moment I got the call, I rushed downstairs, demanded answers on what happened. Alexi and John had to reframe me from smashing the place up as no one could answer me." He recalls the events of this morning, how drastically different it was from the moments with you before you left. "Then you came in, and I, I shut down."

Your breathing remains level, starting to hear a muttered one-sided conversation.

"I thought I'd lost you. That I'd never get to be honest about it all, about us." His fingers run over your hand gently. "And all I'd have left of you was one of your bras you left." He breathes out a laugh.

Despite the pain, as you begin to come to your senses, your fingers dance in his palm. "Buck?" Your voice hoarse as you squint at his blue eyes, the relief painted clear as day. "I, I"

"Hey, hey, take it steady," Bucky reassures, offering you a cup of water as he guides it to your lips.

Swallowing the liquid, you sigh. "I'd of at least left you a matching set." A laugh bubbles in your throat, but the pain in your ribs digs in, refusing the motion to take place.

"You are unbelievable." Bucky shakes his head, unable to stop the small smile gracing his lips. "Don't scare me like that again." He brings your palm to his lips, kissing it gently.

"I didn't mean to." The words leave you in a whisper, picturing him in those moments before you were unconscious. All those things you'd never said in fear of rejection, of losing the greatest friend you'd ever known. "We'll be okay, right?"

Bracing yourself with a wince, Bucky simply shuffles closer. His hand now rests on your head, brushing your hair from your face. "We'll be okay. I promise you, doll." Bringing his face to yours, he rests his forehead against yours.

Outside the room, the New Avengers gather, not so subtly eavesdropping. "You owe me thirty bucks, Walker!" Ava claps happily, relishing in John's annoyance.

"I don't know about that; they didn't exactly announce their undying love to one another." John retorts, only to be met with a dumbfounded look from Ava, Yelena and Bob.

"It's pretty obvious, John." Yelena sighs, now shooing everyone out of the doorway before glancing back at her dear friends, relieved they finally got out of the friend zone.

[taeyongdoyoung]

chase and attract

summary: your best friend decides to fulfil yet another one of your freaky shared fantasies... pairing: chan x reader genre: smut, best friends to ??? warnings: cnc/primal play, chasing in a forest, public indecency but there are no witnesses, fingering, finger-sucking, doggystyle, unprotected sex, praise, degradation, reader wants to use the safeword but doesn't, reader experiences subdrop, insecurities, crying, aftercare, pet names, the word daddy is mentioned but after they're done having sex, discussion of future scenario 👀 author's note: hello hello, this is the second part of my wolf & bunny series, i think i'll write one more to tie up the loose ends 🤍 part one & part three word count: 1.7k

After a number of discussions and precautions, you and Chan are finally ready to embark on your next sexscapade. He's reassured you multiple times that he knows the forest well enough that you won't get lost and as a safety measure, he brought a compass and his phone. You purposefully leave yours in his car to further heighten the feeling of danger you two had in mind.

“Are you ready?” Chan asks you gently.

“Kinda. I'm really nervous, Chris,” you confess, your hands shaking in your lap as you are still sitting in the passenger seat.

“Remember that you can stop this at any moment, right?” he reminds you sweetly.

“I know that,” you sigh. “But I want this, I really do.”

“Okay, then, there's nothing to be nervous about. You know I'll keep you safe. Always, yeah?”

You nod, trusting him completely, despite how insane this whole thing might sound to a stranger. You are fully aware that Chan has your best interest at heart.

“I'll give you a five-minute headstart this time,” he sets the timer on his phone. “Ready, set...go!”

You dash out of his car faster than ever and speed through the forest. You've got this. Last time your stupid legs gave out due to being in a box for too long but now you've trained for this moment for a week and you feel confident enough that you'll have a blast. Sure, you know that the point of this game is for Chan to eventually catch you. And boy, do you look forward to that moment. But the more you run, the more your heart will jump out, the more thrilled you feel.

You begin to lose track of time as you go deeper and deeper into the forest. Have five minutes already passed? You don't hear Chan's footsteps so either he hasn't started chasing you yet or he's going in another direction. Whatever the explanation, you keep running even though you're beginning to lose your breath. How much longer? You still don't hear him and you are in desperate need of a break. You should have brought a bottle of water. But carrying something like that would only slow you down. You're thinking too much again. You just want him to catch you already and fuck you until you can no longer think. Truly the best feeling in the world.

Finally, you hear leaves rustling. You don't hear his voice but you know he's getting near. Shit, what if it's someone else? No, that can't be it. Chan made sure that people rarely walk this path and it would only be the two of you. Still, you're terrified at the thought of someone other than Chan catching you. The mere suggestion of that is enough to send speed to your muscles and make you faster.

But all good things must come to an end (or maybe the good things are just about to begin...) and you are engulfed by a pair of strong arms. Before you can react or try to fight your attacker off, he's pressing his hand against your mouth.

“Shhh, don't scream,” Chan's voice is both a comfort and a threat, sending mixed signals to your core.

“Mmpf,” you struggle to make some kind of noise but it comes out muffled against his rough hand.

“This will all be easier if you don’t fight it,” Chan says soothingly and you shake your head in disagreement.

He momentarily removes his hand from your lip.

“Please, somebody help me!” you scream loud enough to paint the scene more vividly but not loud enough to actually attract attention in case a stranger passes by some forest. Which honestly seems impossible at this point. Chan really picked a very secluded trail.

“No one’s gonna hear you, sweetheart. And even if they did, do you think they’d help you? Silly little bun, you brought this on yourself walking in the forest all alone, wearing this dress…”

Fuck, why is he so good at this? You try not to wonder if he’s had prior experience with such a scenario or he simply just has great imagination to come up with such lines.

“Please, don’t do this,” you pretend to be afraid as your best friend pushes you on your knees and situates himself behind you. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Why not? I’ll fuck you so good you’ll want to brag about it,” Chan chuckles coldly and sticks his thick fingers inside your pussy unexpectedly.

“Nnghh,” you cry out and are beginning to lose energy of all the running and no longer feel like faking it, letting out moans and whimpers of pleasure.

“See? You’re all wet for me, so obviously you’re enjoying it,” Chan gathers the evidence of your satisfaction with his fingers and pushes them into your mouth.

You don’t need an order to know what to do as you lick them clean of your arousal.

“Fuuuck, good girl,” Chan praises you and briefly breaks character, stroking your hair gently.

Oh, shit. You think you’re falling for your best friend. But such thoughts will only bring complications, especially in the current context, so you push them down as much as you can.

Chan makes sure you’re wet enough by mercilessly stroking your pussy and finally, fuck, sweet finally, enters you from behind with his cock.

“N-no, d-don’t do this,” you scream and try to escape his strong grasp but of course, it’s no use.

“Such a useless slut, only good for fucking and nothing more.”

The degrading words sting but you’re trying not to dwell on it too much.

“So fucking wet for a stranger. Disgusting,” he says.

Fuck, this hurts. Not the cock stretching you out to the fullest but what he’s saying. Is it really true?

You want to say the safeword. But you also don’t. By the time you make up your mind, Chan has already painted your walls white and you are also coming with a shudder, loudly and devastatingly.

You feel broken. Bad broken. You want to go home and cry and sleep and eat ice cream. What went wrong? You were having such a great time. So why are you suddenly having such dark thoughts? And not dark in the sexy way…

Chan picks you up gently and checks up on you.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, I just want to go home,” you respond briefly.

He nods, quietly wondering if he did something wrong or if he’s just imagining the sad, empty look in your pretty eyes.

Chan helps you walk back to his car and makes sure you drink water and cleans you up to the best of his abilities with some tissues he prepared in advance.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again as he parks the car in front of you place. “You haven’t said a word during the whole ride. Usually you have funny stories to share and…”

“Gee, sorry for not always being the class clown, I guess,” you snap at him angrily with an eyeroll.

“Okay, don’t give me that attitude,” Chan scolds you gently but firmly. “If we want to do this healthily, you gotta communicate with me. If I did something wrong or if you felt uncomfortable at any point.”

You shake your head, still in denial.

“If you don’t wanna talk, I won’t force you. But you gotta remember that you mean the world to me, yeah? Even if these games end, I need to have my best friend in my life, am I clear?”

You blink and finally gather the courage to look at him.

“I’m sorry, Chris,” you admit and burst into tears.

He pulls you into a hug and pats your back.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.”

“Well, the truth is I wasn’t all that into it when you said that thing about me being useless, only good for fucking and disgusting,” you confess.

“Oh, babygirl, you know I don’t mean these things. I only said them ‘cause you mentioned you’re into degradation.”

“I was, I mean, I am, but for some reason, it really hurt me this time, sorry. I should have said. I just don’t want you to think poorly of me.”

“Alright, first of all, stop saying sorry, it’s completely normal to get caught up in it and feel insecure sometimes. As a dom, I should have been more careful and checked up on you more frequently. And second of all, please, remember that you are very smart, sweet, funny and not to mention incredibly beautiful so there is no way in hell I think lowly of you. Now, did you put that down in your pretty brain of yours?”

“Yes, sir,” you answer enthusiastically and your tears have dried up, instead a bright smile appears on your face. “Thanks for saying that. I guess I really needed to hear it.”

“You don’t have to thank me. Just next time if you happen feel like that, say the safeword and talk to me. About anything, I mean it.”

“You too, Chris. I know that’s particularly hard for you to open up but whatever you tell me, I would never judge you.”

“I know, babygirl,” Chan chuckles softly and does something that further confuses the already blurred lines of your friendship. He kisses you on the lips, deeply and sweetly. Not like how you kiss your best friend but how you kiss a lover.

“Do you want…to come inside?” you offer, not knowing what exactly, considering you just ended a very overwhelming scene.

Actually, you know what you want. You want him to hold you, to watch a dumb movie and eat popcorn together. You want…more than you can have.

“I gotta get some work done,” Chan says with a wince. “I’m really behind on stuff.”

“Is it…my fault?”

“No way. I just can’t stop thinking of…our games even when I’m supposed to be working,” he admits.

Phew. You’re glad he didn’t say he can’t stop thinking of you. If he had, you wouldn’t be able to let him go to work.

“Right. Same here,” you reply dumbly.

“If you need anything and I mean, anything, just give me a call or a text. I’ll keep my phone nearby.”

“You really shouldn’t, I’ll keep annoying you,” you mumble self-consciously.

Chan grips your hand and squeezes it comfortingly.

“You could never annoy me, okay?”

“Okay, daddy,” you say it playfully, eliciting a giggle out of his beautiful mouth.

“Do you have any particular wishes for…you know, next time?”

“I do, but it’s kinda mild compared to what we’ve done already,” you shrug. “Dunno if you’d be into it.”

“Name it and it’s yours,” Chan assures you.

“How do you feel about…fucking me while I’m asleep?”

To be continued…

[littleslaywrites]

first name basis | aaron hotchner x bau!reader

summary: the team comes over to your place for dinner, and your secret relationship with aaron becomes not so secret. 

word count: 1.7k

cw: fluff, alcohol consumption, yes i know i wrote something similar in january and I didn’t realize it felt familiar until like halfway but here it is anyway because i like the premise

For once, you didn’t have a case on a Friday night.

You’d moved into a new place a few months ago, and you’d been trying to get the team over for dinner since then. But just like everything else in your life, the plans had been interrupted by case after case. 

But today, you had a free evening. So after work, you went to the grocery store, preparing for dinner with the team. You'd laid out the ingredients, breaking in the kitchen with your first real feast in your new apartment.

And after a few hours, you hear a knock on your door. It’s Penelope and Morgan, and throughout the next half hour, the rest of the team follows suit. 

“This is an amazing apartment,” Emily says, looking around. 

“Thanks. I’m just glad somebody could see it,” you say, opening the wine Rossi had brought and handing Emily a glass. “It's been two whole months without anyone on the team having time to come look.”

Really, that’s not the truth. There had been one team member who’d come to visit you. Quite often, actually. Aaron had visited you at any moment he could find between late nights at work. He’d become familiar with the place, knowing what’s in every cabinet and behind every door. 

He shows up last, staying behind at the office to complete paperwork, as usual. It doesn’t go unnoticed that he changed before getting here, wearing a polo and jeans instead of his usual formal suit. Unfortuately, you can't let your gaze linger on his arms, knowing you have to behave while the team has their eyes on you.

He’s brought a case of beer, knowing you well enough to be aware you’d like it more than wine. You smile as casually as possible, putting it in the fridge before checking the oven. 

Aaron stands in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. “Need help with anything?”

“Would you mind setting the plates on the table?”

He nods, opening up the cabinet to grab dinner plates. 

Rossi doesn’t miss this exchange, watching as Aaron opens up the cabinets. 

“How’d you know where the plates were, Aaron?” 

Hotch gives Rossi a look, silently telling him to stop profiling him. “Lucky guess,” he deadpans. 

“Lucky guess,” Rossi repeats, taking a sip of his wine. 

You refuse to make eye contact, awkwardly pretending to be busy with mixing up a salad. You can feel Rossi’s eyes on you, but you hope that if you just focus on that salad, all the tension will disappear. 

“It’s so well-lit in here,” JJ says from the living room. 

“Isn’t it? That’s why I chose the unit on the corner.”

Spencer chimes in. “South facing, too. Statistically speaking, it improves mood levels during winter months.”

“Too bad you can’t see the sunrise, though,” Aaron chimes in as he finishes setting the plates down. 

Rossi raises an eyebrow. You know you can brush it off by saying anyone would know you can’t see the sunrise if your apartment faces the South. You will admit it’s a suspicious comment, though, especially for someone who's already scrutinizing your behavior. 

You meet the rest of the team in the living room, taking two beers from the fridge, one for you and one for Aaron. Your hands touch when you give it to him, and even though your heart flutters, you turn back around and give your attention to the group. You're trying to play it as cool as possible, even though you're sure you’re failing. 

The team falls into conversations about anything but work, enjoying the night of finally not being surrounded by gruesome scenes. The group being in your living room is starting to make the house feel like home. 

After a few more minutes, the timer on your phone goes off, and you set the main dish on the table. Emily helps bring out the sides, laying everything out. 

“Dinner’s ready,” you call out, and everyone sits down, serving up the food. 

The smooth flow of the conversation is interrupted by Morgan’s voice. “So are you planning to stay the night, Hotch?”

You give him a sideways glance, trying not to show the internal heart attack you’re having. “Hm?”

“Well, he’s had two beers. Usually he has half of one because he’s all responsible and crap.”

You laugh it off, realizing you’re not caught. “Maybe he’s just letting loose for once.”

“I won’t complain,” Emily says. “Let's hope he’ll be less grumpy come Monday.”

The team all laughs. You let out a small sigh of relief, hoping that’s the end of the questioning for tonight. Obviously, Rossi will have something to say, but at least he won’t call you out in front of the whole team. 

At some point between dinner and dessert, a glass gets knocked over, spilling wine onto the floor. 

“I’ll get the mop,” Hotch says, going to the broom closet.

“Thanks,” you say as you set the glass upright. You don’t notice the look Emily and Derek give each other when he returns with a bucket and mop. 

Emily speaks up when you start to mop up the spill. “Did you profile the apartment to know where to find that?” 

Hotch looks at her. “Maybe.”

It’s not a good excuse, but at least they’re distracted by their own conversation. You set the mop back in its bucket by the kitchen, washing your hands to get ready to serve dessert. 

“Aaron, will you get the cake from the fridge?” You don’t even notice you use his first name, or that Garcia perks up at your words. 

“Wait,” Penelope says with a gasp. “Wait, wait, wait.”

You set the plates for dessert on the table. “Wait for what?”

“The sitting together on the jet, and the knowing where the mop is, and her calling you by your first name,” Penelope says. “I’m connecting the dots here.”

Aaron is currently standing behind you, holding the lemon cake as awkwardly as humanly possible, tension evident in his shoulders while his feet stay stuck to the spot. 

“I’m no profiler, but you two… are you…?”

JJ looks over at Aaron at that. “No way.”

The two of you simply stand there, frozen to the spot, knowing you can’t deny it any longer but unsure of how to fess up. 

Rossi gives a chuckle. “It’s about time.”

Emily gasps, lowering her wine glass. “Seriously?”

You look to Aaron, who gives you the most minuscule of nods. You nod back with a small sigh. 

“Yeah. Seriously.”

Spencer almost drops his fork at that. “How long?”

“About seven months,” Aaron answers. 

The table almost erupts at the revelation.

 “Seven?” Emily sets down her glass so she can fully focus on getting all the information out of you. “How didn’t we notice?”

“I knew it. He’d always look just slightly less grumpy when she was in the room,” Garcia adds. 

JJ looks at you. “How did you hide this from us for so long?”

“We didn’t mean to,” Hotch says. “We just didn’t want to make things complicated for the team.”

He finally moves, setting the cake down on the table. You take that as your cue to sit down, the two of you joining the rest of them at the table. 

“You two forget who you work with,” Rossi says with a smirk. “We’d figure it out eventually.”

Aaron reaches for your hand under the table. You almost forget you don’t have to hide anymore, but then you take it, knowing it doesn’t matter if everyone sees. 

Emily smiles, holding up her glass. “Well, cheers to you two, for being the best secret keepers on the team.”

“And cheers to Hotch, for finally getting a date,” Morgan adds as you all clink glasses. 

The team laughs as Aaron gives him a look.

“What? I’m still processing the fact that Hotch has a dating life,” Morgan says as he takes a sip. 

You all laugh again, and the team falls into asking all the questions in the world about your relationship while eating dessert.

Later that evening, you’re in the kitchen, drying the dishes you just washed while the rest of the team chats in the living room. You feel a hand on your lower back, instantly knowing it’s Aaron’s. 

You turn around, meeting his eyes. 

“You handled that well,” he says.

You lean back against the counter. “You weren’t too bad yourself. Once you got over yourself and stopped being frozen in place.”

He laughs softly. “I know, I know. I was trying to hide behind the cake, I guess.”

You giggle, drying your hands. “It had to come out eventually.” 

“I was hoping for later. Maybe next year. Or next decade.”

“Yeah. But better here than in the middle of a case.”

He nods, taking your hand. “I think Rossi’s been onto us for weeks now.”

“I think he was onto us that morning you brought me coffee and said it was ‘from my favorite place.’”

He hums, and you look into his eyes. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m relieved.”

“Relieved?”

“I don’t like hiding you,” he says, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “It was nearly impossible to pretend not to be in love with you all the time.”

You freeze for a second, tilting your head. “That’s the first time you've said that.”

“I mean it.”

He gazes at you, as steady as he always is. “I know. I mean it.”

You smile. “I love you, too.”

The corners of his mouth curve into that small smile that hardly anyone but you gets the privilege of seeing. He leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. 

Behind you, you hear a squeal that could only come from Penelope. 

“Oh my god, you two are so cute,” she exclaims. 

“We’re never hearing the end of this, are we?”

You wrap your arms around him. “Nope.”

But as the laughter of the team fills the apartment, you’re not even close to embarrassed at the revelation in the way you’d expected to be. You’re happy, excited that the team is just as excited about your love as the two of you are. And as Aaron wraps his arms around you, you can’t find it in yourself to feel anything but joy. 

author's note: ignore that this is like the same story i've written before just in a new setting. anyway i will get to requests but i've been in such a fluffy mood and all of them are smut/angst but i promise i will get over this writer's block and start working on them.

[highway-143]

number 10- nishimura riki

genre: smut, desire : unleash engene ver. au, based on this ask

pairing: contestant!riki x fem contestant!reader

taglist: @urlocalmultigroupfan @minkilicious @vrusha01 @shyoko @planetmarlowe

word count: 1.6k

now playing: confident- justin bieber

a.n- teehee ty anon for the request, i kinda had to interpret the concept video weird for it but i think its a similar concept, idk

tw: death/murder, graphic explanations, oral (f. rec), unprotected, dom!riki, profanity, scary themes idk

(mostly proofread)

all scenarios are fake and are not meant to represent any idol in the story.

. ⁺ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ‧₊˚✩彡.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑

running was getting fucking hard.

you were panting, hands clawing against the bloodied walls while you tried to get away, tried to escape this stupid prison.

the metal collar around your neck wasn't helping either. it weighed you down, making you slower, as if it wasn't already tracking you.

and then the figure appears.

tall, only a few yards away, yet shrouded in darkness on the other end of the hallway.

you freeze, hoping it wouldn't notice you.

but it already had. the thing walks closer, taking slow, almost cautious steps in your direction.

"hello?" it whispers.

you breathe out a sigh of relief. thank god, another contestant.

but then you see it, him, in the faint green lighting.

he was beautiful. dark and rumpled hair, sharp features, and a strong jawline.

"thank god, you're one too. i'm 99, jay."

"i'm y/n, 03." you say, wavering a little in case he's someone you need to avoid. "have you seen anyone else?"

"not yet," he mutters, looking around. "you wanna team up?"

you watch him carefully. he adjust the collar, shifting it around his neck. he looks nice enough, what could it hurt by sticking with him, at least for a little bit.

"sure. let's go that way."

you and jay walk through the halls, taking turn after turn until-

a dead end.

mostly.

a metal door obstructed your path, and jay turns to you.

"want me to check?"

you nod, trying to bury the fear building up in the pit of your stomach.

jay opens the door, taking a slow, experimental step in and looking back at you.

and then he steps all the way in.

big mistake.

you watch as the door slams shut behind him, the handle stuck when you try to open it again.

you try to listen through the door.

nothing.

but then you look down.

and there's blood pouring out from under the door. you slam a hand over your mouth, holding back your choked scream.

player 99 was dead.

you watch as the thick, red liquid pools around your boots, staining the white material.

you almost throw up, but you walk away, trying to find a way out of this damn hell hole.

you find another room, this time peering in before stepping inside. not like you could see anything anyways. and thank god, because you didn't meet the same fate as jay.

instead, the lights snap on, the door shuts with a click behind you, and your eyes practically disintegrate from the newfound brightness.

you aren't fully prepared for what's in front of you.

it's another player, a man again, tied to a chair with black ropes and facing a metal table with a flashing box on it.

"finally, somebody else fell for it, come and untie me."

you roll your eyes and crouch behind him, fingers setting to untie his bonds.

"how'd you get in here?" you ask, pulling the rope away and letting him flex his wrists.

"same as you, just walked in. somebody was in here and tied me up though, but they left."

you nod, looking around the room. now that you were used to it, the lights weren't that bright at all. in fact, they were dimmer than before. there was a camera in the corner, the head pointed directly at the table.

and then, the device.

it didn't take long for you to realize what it was.

a bomb.

the timer was at 31:09

and counting down.

31:08, 31:07, 31:06

you turn to the guy. "it's gonna explode an a half hour."

he laughs. "you think i didn't know that? i can see you know."

you roll your eyes again.

"bitch." you mutter.

"actually, it's riki."

you shake your head. "do i look like i give a shit?"

he laughs, standing from his chair and taking a look at the bomb on the table.

"i like you, you've got energy." he says, poking at a wire.

you don't say anything, just examine the room and try not to stare at riki.

because he had to be cute and an asshole, of course.

"what's your name?" he asks, sitting back down in the chair.

you slump against the wall, sliding down to the ground. "y/n."

"did you see anyone else out there?"

"yeah but..." your voice hitches. "he was eliminated."

"oh." riki's face is somber. "was it 71?" there's an urgency in his expression now.

"no, 99."

"thank god." he grabs his chest, his heart racing. "71's my sister."

your heart sinks. you feel terrible for riki, his own family forced into this stupid game.

you sit in silence, waiting for your death.

it didn't feel real. it was like a dream. how were you and riki supposed to come to terms with the fact that you'd be dead in...

13:42

thirteen minutes.

and then, as you feel tears start to fall from your eyes, there's a long beep from the bomb. you jumped, thinking it was detonating early.

you and riki watch as numbers turn into letters that slowly become words.

𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝚃𝙴𝙽 𝙼𝙸𝙽𝚄𝚃𝙴𝚂 𝚃𝙾 𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙴 𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙴. 𝚆𝙴'𝙻𝙻 𝙱𝙴 𝚆𝙰𝚃𝙲𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶.

you look over at the camera, a red light blinking next to the lens.

perfect.

just fucking great.

riki turns to the camera, staring it down.

"fucking perverts!" he yells at it, and then the bomb beeps again.

𝚂𝙰𝙸𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙷𝙰𝚂 𝚃𝙾 𝙵𝚄𝙲𝙺 𝙷𝙴𝚁

riki scoffs. "we'll see about that."

he turns to you. you were standing like a post, not fully grasping what was happening.

"let's go." he says, grabbing you by the arm and pullimg you to stand in front of the chair, the backs of your knees just barely grazing the metal.

"take it off." he says, pointing at your jumper.

you don't do anything. you can't move.

riki clenches his fists. "okay, come fucking on. i have less than ten minutes to do this now." he points at the clock, now 9:46.

you blush and unzip your jumper, the white shirt underneath the only thing covering your chest.

riki pushes you to sit on the edge of the chair, with its back digging under your shoulderblades.

he kneels down, and slips a hand under the shirt, squeezing your breast while his free hand pushed your thighs apart.

you whine when his thumb grazes your nipple, and he smirks while pressing kisses up and down your thighs.

he slides a finger down your panties, pulling them down your sensitive legs. a little moan slips from your lips when he presses a finger to your clit.

"sensitive..." he mutters, grinning.

"shut up," you say, breathless. he just laughs.

he pushes a finger between your folds, collecting the slick building up between them and bringing his finger to his lips.

you moan when he sucks on the pad of his finger, and he groans at your taste.

"god, that's good..."

he leans closer to your cunt, blowing a breath of cool air over your wet lips. your hips jerk, chasing him.

he presses his lips against your clit, giving it a faint suck before trailing down and licking between your folds. his tounge felt like fire on you, his fingers digging into your thighs.

you put your hand on the back of his head, stroking his hair while he practically makes out with your pussy. he moans into you, and you push him deeper.

his nose stimulates your clit, just grazing your sensitive nub while his tounge started pushing into your hole.

you look at the clock.

5:31

shit.

you try your hardest to work up an orgasm, to let yourself go, but your efforts were in vain.

riki looks up at you, pulling away from your throbbing pussy.

"you usually this hard to please?"

"i'm nervous."

he pulls you up from the chair by your shoulder, hooking a hand under your arm and dragging you to the table.

"well i'm not dying today." he growls in your ear, bending you over the cold metal and pushing your shirt over your ass

he spreads your legs with his thigh, and you hear the rustle of fabric behint you.

you know what's coming.

you try to prepare yourself, gripping the edge of the table and locking your legs, but nothing could have gotten you ready for riki.

he pushes into your wet hole, and you struggle to take him. he's long, thick, and hard. a strangled scream comes from your mouth when he pushes deeper, his dick pressing against your cervix.

"fuck, you're tight... god damn."

you whine when he starts moving his hips, his pelvis slapping against your ass with loud claps.

his thumb reaches town to your clit, rubbing you, trying to get you to just fucking release already.

2:06

you feel the tears on the table under you, the metal heating under your trembling body.

riki groans, his own release closer than yours.

and then he spills into you. you clench violently around him, feeling his cum fill you up

yeah, some of that definetly took.

thats what has you over the edge. your legs tremble and your eyes roll back, your slick plasterd onto your thighs, dripping down your legs.

"fuck," says riki, still buried deep inside you. he looks at the camera. "stop the fucking timer! she did it, bastards!"

the timer stops.

0:16

fuck yeah.

. ⁺ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ‧₊˚✩彡.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑

a.n- chat i cooked ToT

idk man, im tired. anyways, if you liked this fic, please like/comment/reblog and lmk if you have any ideas for a new one!

masterlist part 2

[voxslays]

DUNGGEULGE DUNGGEULGE

It was the third day of the horrorifying reality you were now living. At first, it didn’t seem so bad. Play a couple children’s games and have the possibility of winning 45.6 billion? You thought it would be easy. You thought the man you knew as player 456 was crazy. What did he mean you would die?

But you quickly started to believe him when people started getting killed during a ‘friendly’ game of red light, green light. The evening before the second game you had found a group, consisting of player 456–who you now know to be Gi-hun, Jung Bae, Dae-ho, Jun-Hee and player 001, or Young-il.

You and player 001 had the strongest connection of the group, even though the age gap between you was over a decade and half. He was a married man, and you a young American. Who could be a better match? He seemed to protect you too, although you couldn’t place your finger on why.

So when the next game was announced to be something called ‘mingle’ you had no idea what it meant—Only that it would be dangerous. “Stick by me.” Young-il demanded before the game started. As you got onto the platform, it started to spin. The platform spun—like a carousel—for about a minute as a children’s song, sung in Korean, was played over the speakers. It was both charming and eerie.

Just then, the number ‘four’ was called. Young-il grabbed your hand and pushed you into a room with two other people before locking the doors. “What is going on!?” You ask, frightened. “It’s the game.” Young-il responds. “They’ll kill everyone who isn’t in a room.” Suddenly, there are gunshots, followed by loud screams. You cover your ears in fear. The gunshots and screams slowly die down. The silence is deafening.

You look up at Young-il, your eyes wide with fear and confusion. He squeezes your hand reassuringly. After a few tense moments, the door to your room bursts open. You are forced to play round after round, slowly inching farther and farther apart from player 001. Even with all the deaths, there are too many players in the way…yet every time, Young-il miraculously finds you and pulls you into an empty room before the timer ends.

In room after dread-filled room, you endure the nightmare. Each ‘mingle’ round kills off more and more players. Finally, the last round arrives. “How many do you think this time?” You ask shakily. Young-il looks at you with a grim expression. “Two.” The music starts up again, and the platform begins to spin once more. “Why?” You ask as the final round begins, the platform spins lazily, the childhood melody twisted into something unsettling.

Young-il keeps a tight grip on your hand. “There are 126 of us left, and there are fifty rooms.” He pauses, looking you dead in the eye with a calm intensity. “They’ll kill the rest.” And just as 001 said, the number called out is ‘two.’ Everyone is scrambling to get to a door. Pushing, shoving, and even throwing people out of the way just to survive. Young-il grabs your arm and leads you to a yellow room, pushing a player out of the way in the process. Once you get inside, there is a plump man in the corner—Player 343.

‘Eight.’

‘Seven.’

‘Six.’

Player 343 sits huddled in the corner, eyes wide and terrified. Young-il locks the door and turns to the man. “Get out.” He demands. “We were here first.” Says player 343, as 001 walks over to him and puts him in a tight headlock, slowly choking him. You press your back the door in horror. What was Young-il doing?

The screeches and screams from outside are impossible to tune out as you press your hands against your ears. You can hear all the pain and misery—and the gunshots haven’t even started yet.

‘Five.’

‘Four.’

‘Three.’

Suddenly the door behind you is banged on by one of the players Young-il pushed out of the way to save you. “Open the door, you bastards!” He screams. “I was here first!” You look back at Young-il, who is still choking 343 as the timer counts down. “I’m sorry!” You say as you keep the door shut.

What were you supposed to do? There was now way to justify your actions…but you needed to stay alive. Yet this is the very thing you never wanted to be. A killer.

‘Two.’

‘One.’

As the countdown hits zero, a loud ‘game over’ is announced over the speakers in korean. Gunshots ring out as the door automatically locks. You look over your shoulder to Young-il and the corpse of player 343—the man he had just snapped the neck of. You cover your mouth with your hands in horror as Young-il gets up and walks over to you. “I did what I had to do.”

He stands over 343's lifeless body, breathing heavily. The blood rushing in his ears drowns out the sound of his own heartbeat. He turns to face you, seeing the horror etched on your face. "Look at me." His voice is low and urgent, commanding your attention amidst the chaos of your frightened thoughts. "Look at me," He repeats, grasping your shoulders firmly. "In these games, It's kill or be killed." You nod your head in understanding, wiping your shallow tears.

You would never understand.

[bluelockmaniac]

⌗ "I'LL GO EASY ON YOU," ⋮ but you absolutely fucking destroy him.

★ nagi seishiro x gn!reader ╰ how come you've obliterated him in something he's so good at?

▯ content warning. mentions of video game gunfire, shooting, etc.

"sei, this game looks fun," you murmured, shifting slightly to adjust your position on his lap. his eyes remained glued to the glowing screen, the faint gleam of colours casting a hazy light across his face. his arms were looped firmly around your waist, thumbs expertly swiping over the controller in his hands.

as you were cozily nestled inside his sweater, filled with the subtle scent of his cologne, you felt the gentle rise and fall of his chest. you observe him deftly move his virtual character across the battlefield, shooting enemies and cursing under his breath at each hindering obstacle. after being in this same position for quite some time, a sense of boredom had begun to bubble within you.

"mm, yeah?" he mumbles, resting his chin on your head. he tilts his head down to press a kiss onto your soft hair. "it is."

"can i try?"

he stays silent for a moment, the room filled with the sounds of obnoxiously loud bursts of gunshots. he finally takes a breath and speaks, his voice muffled against your hair. "tis’ really hard though. i don’t think y’can win,"

your brows furrow as you whip your head slightly to meet his gaze, raising your hand to pinch his cheek. "hmm, how would you know? i could be better than you!"

"yeah, yeah, fine," he pulls his face away from your fingers’ grip on his cheek. he gives you a faint smile, exiting out of the game and clicking 'new game'. "i'll go easy on you."

you slide off his lap with anticipation, grabbing the fluffy bean bag he had bought exclusively for you from the corner of his room, placing it next to him. giving it a pat to smoothen its wrinkles, you made your way to the tv stand's drawer in quick strides, retrieving an extra game controller.

"you don't have to, sei," you smile warmly, settling into the softness of the bean bag as you prepare to show nagi seishiro what you were made of. "i want it to be fun."

he nods, hesitantly clicking the start button. while watching the one-minute timer displayed on the screen, he remembers to explain the rules to you.

"basically," he begins, "there’s a five-minute time limit. the person who reaches one hundred kills first, or whoever is the closest to one hundred kills, wins."

"yeah, i know, dummy." you tease, reaching out to tousle his hair, in which he responds with a subtle blush tinging his cheeks rose. "i've been watching you play for at least an hour now."

the bolded numbers on the now-split screen enlarge, signaling the beginning of the new game; 3...2...1...

you waste no time, immediately equipping your weapon, fingers swiftly moving along the buttons. silence was quick to envelop the room, thick with the weight of your competitiveness.

nagi shoots you a surprised, quick glance, before focusing his gaze back onto his side of the screen. suddenly, his attention is drawn to the corner of your part of the screen, where your kill count is displayed.

to say the least, this man was astonished to find out that you’ve racked up 63 kills in slightly under three minutes. his eyes widened in disbelief ever so slightly, registering the number with admiration.

"what the heck..." he accidentally huffs, quickly pressing his mouth together as the sound of his confused voice reaches his ears.

you let out an amused giggle, "surprised?"

he does not respond, lost in his own muddled thoughts. how could he, after underestimating you so badly? how could he say anything when you, as you were currently speaking, have over 60 kills compared to his mere 34?

the white-haired boy feels a prick of suspicion creeping in; he hadn’t known that his partner was an expert at video games. why hadn’t you told him? he sighs, realizing that the person he could have played with all this time was right beside him all along; he would no longer need to play with his tediously boring game-mates or those doltish bots which he had always deemed a hassle.

then, the game came to an abrupt stop.

98 - 52

he stares hard at the game over screen, a deep frown creasing his forehead. "nuh-uh, let's do it again..."

"ahh, i told you i could win!" you cheer, your finger lightly tugging on the skin under your eye as you stick your tongue out in jest. "and sure, i really want to hit one hundred this time!"

a soft grumble escapes his pouty lips as he buries half his head under the inside of his sweatshirt, leaving only his eyes visible. "m'baby's so cocky..."

100 - 67

"fuck, again!"

99 - 75

"this game's gotta be rigged!"

96 - 56

"seiii, i'm boredddd—"

"one mo' time,"

89 - 88

"ack–fuck this shit… i'm going to sleep."

you blink your eyes in silent amusement— this was a side of him you had rarely ever seen. your usually calm, bored boyfriend trying so hard at something; it was adorable seeing him so invested, even if it was simply a video game.

but somehow, you had managed to fire him up enough to the point of rage quitting?

"y’know sei, i was going easy on you..."

"..."

despite his muted response to the fuel you've added to the fire, you catch a glimpse of a proud smile tugging on his lips as he retreats back onto the bed, beckoning you to join him. “that was fun… play w’me again, ‘kay?”

© 2024 bluelockmaniac — do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform !

[penvisions]

stages of devotion {holiday hustle}

Pairing: Holiday Impaired! Joel Miller x Expert Holiday Baker! Reader

Summary: The holidays came fast this year, but with it comes a father and daughter pair you didn't ever expect to see again.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: holiday triggers, holiday stress, baking stress, food industry triggers, family issues, minor off screen family dynamics, super soft yearning, mutual pining, sexual tension, smut, p in v, creampie, joel's dirty talk deserves its own warning, lemme know if i missed any!

A/N: so its a few days after the holiday that i announced this on. so so sorry for the tease, y'all. finally made it to my "weekend" only to get sick :c trying to make the most of the days though (within reason). love y'all and hope you enjoy this!

ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

The holiday season sucks.

That’s about all you’re confident in as you twirl the piping bag in your hand for what feels like the thousandth time that morning. There’s an entire rack of pies beside you, tray after tray that needs to be garnished with cremieux and a little chocolate coin that has the first letter of your bakery branded on it in gold. Behind it are three more of the same pie. Behind that are four more of apple.

Apple and pumpkin. The only flavors you offered for the season. One hundred each, plenty enough to keep you afloat for the next month or so if you sell out. Especially if you sell out the display case as well.

Your bakery is small, just you and your friend Colbie. Something to be passed in the blink of an eye on the busy downtown street. But it was born of passion and creativity, a space you carved out in the big scary world all for yourself. You’re none the wiser of how your day will turn out as you continue to pipe the faintly black spotted vanilla over the remaining pies, moving onto fetching things out of the oven as timers begin to go off and garnish the ones already chilled from an earlier bake.

Just down the street, Joel and Sarah are strolling down the sidewalk from where they parked the car at the end of the block.

“Don’t see why the crew needs more food, baby girl.”

“Because we need to show our appreciation for them, dad. They’re working the morning of thanksgiving, for crying out loud.”

“This isn’t exactly a tax write off…”

“Dad!” The exasperated teenager nudges at his side with her shoulder, catching his ribs lightly. But he doesn’t stumble nor do his steps falter, he lets her win a lot of the time but this? He still loves how she tries to roughhouse with him only to realize that he’s always gonna have the upper hand unless he gives into her. Her pout and huff draws a laugh from deep in his chest.

“It’s true! I gotta pay for it all outta my account, not the business. We already picked up breakfast for everyone and half the men are gonna store it in their coolers for a later time.” He pivots her toward the doorway just past a large window display, squares of glass allowing for a glimpse inside a local bakery.

“Don’t you put the catering on the business card?”

“Well yeah, but their overtime for today is coming out of it too.”

“Maybe if we ask the owner, they can discount us or something?” Sarah is suddenly stopping just inside the threshold, watching with wide eyes as her father walks in behind her. The scent of fresh baked bread and flaky pastries welcomes them despite the empty lobby. “Is there a reason you’re so hesitant to use the company card? I thought the business was doing good?”

Joel heaves a heavy sigh, placing both his hands gently on her shoulders to hold her attention and give her all of his.

“Everything is fine, Sarah.” His brown eyes take in the way her own multifaceted ones gleam in the bright sunlight shining in the muted green space the lobby has been painted. Plants alive and well, live wood bar top against the window for people to sit at. “Money is my worry, but there ain’t nothing to worry about okay?”

“We can still ask after a discount, it doesn’t hurt, right?” Suddenly shy, her eyes break contact with his and turn down to her scuffed shoes. “I know that it’s new, but the therapy sessions aren’t exactly cheap or covered by the insurance.”

“Hey now, don’t go worrying about all that either.” Joel’s voice is so soft, floating through the air and sneaking into the kitchen through the siding of the swinging door. You pause in the rosette you were piping atop a cake, just little personal ones with autumnal flowers for the season. “I’m the dad, and that’s a dad thing, okay? You want to keep goin’ and that’s all that matters. Just want you to be okay, that’s all I ever want ‘cause I love you so damn much, okay?”

She nods once, still not bringing her eyes back up but she huffs out a giggle when he leans down and kisses her cheek, deliberately nuzzling the scruff on his cheek against her own.

“Besides, I don’t wanna bother them, baby girl, it’s such a small place.” With that settled they both turn back to the display cause and counter, just in time to see you approach through the window in the door.

“Joel?” There’s no hiding the smile that breaks out across your face as you push through the swinging door that leads separates the kitchen and public area. Even despite the inner turmoil you had endured after first meeting him. The will he won’t he of leaving your number for him…

“Camp lady! Dad, look, it’s her!” The excited teenager hops up and down on her long legs, arms hanging onto one of Joel’s and she jostles him. The slight melancholy of her previous words and worries forgotten with the aid of Joel’s soothing ones and your appearance. “You work here? That’s so cool!”

“Yes, Sarah, honey, I see her.” He rolls his eyes for you to see as she skips forward up to the counter. He looks good, if a little tired. His scruff is longer, body a little leaner than when you had seen him last…two months ago now. You had been so sure he would call or text, reach out in whatever way was easiest for him. And when he hadn’t…you had thrown yourself into work and prep for the holiday season. Reveling in the night you shared and taking it for what it was, not letting the lack of communication taint what had been an electric connection. His eyes are glued to you, ignoring the twirling and excitement of his daughter as she flits in front of the display case.

As you round the corner of the counter and display case, it’s obvious how busy you’ve been in the morning hours as stains darken the fabric. Reaching with a flour dusted hand, you go to shake the man’s hand but he surprises you and pulls you into a tight hug. The smell of his spicy cologne and wood shavings spurs butterflies to life in your belly and heat rise to your cheeks.

“It’s good to see ya, darlin’.” He whispers in your ear, voice all baritone gravel. He releases you just as Colbie enters back in through the front door. You see the way her eyes widen at the show of affection, she knows you better than anyone and casual touch is not something you’re a fan of. But you can tell that she immediately knows who Joel and his daughter are if the sparkle in her eye and the smirk she flashes at you says anything.

“I’m so sorry, I thought I locked the door behind me. Want me to keep it unlocked, we’ve got about fifteen minutes until we’re open.”

“Leaving it open will be fine, do you mind-“ The timer pinned to your apron tie goes off and a second later the one for the oven blares from the kitchen.

“Got it!” And she’s rushing behind the counter to slip back through the sliding door.

Joel looks like he’s about to apologize for barging in, Sarah leading him in the early hour. Coffee thermos left on the counter in the rush and his brain is working overtime without it. The pickup order she had placed with a breakfast place too busy for him to grab something there. You wave him off with a soft smile, not minding the intrusion one bit.

“My dad would not shut up about you on the way home, especially since we still have that air mattress you leant us! Thank you again so much for that, I didn’t want my dad to have to sleep on the ground with his bad back.”

“Hey now, you’re a little too forward with the embarrassing details.” Joel’s bashful words are bathed in an even tone, trying to parent his daughter but still treat her like the independent person that she is.

“So what can I do for you?” You try to fight the slight awkwardness of randomly happening across them as customers in your shop and you swear you see Joel duck his head as he roughs a hand across the back of his neck. Your causal tone and polite smile dousing the hope that had flared in his own chest when you walked out from the kitchen. “I’ve got plenty of pastries, the pies aren’t quite done yet but if you need one or two, I can add the finishing touches real quick?”

“Dad, we should get them pie! Like one each, you think? There’s five on the crew and then the secretaries too, they should get one since they’ll be waiting for us in the office. We can put the bonus checks on top with some pretty stickers! Oooh, dad we gotta stop at the art store now!”

“Sarah, honey, take a breath.” Joel claps hand over her shoulder and she beams up at him. “We only got half an hour to get to the office.”

“Oh, that’s okay! We can still do the pie each thing, right?”

“Whatever you wanna do,” He presses a kiss to the top of her head, her kinky curls flattening as he does so and earns him a grumbled ‘spent so much time on it this morning, old man’.

“So that was seven pies then?” You ask, trying to keep up with the both of them, they’ve got such an easy-going way that they communicate. Their bond obvious and their love pure as you had witnessed back at that campsite, he wants for her to have everything he can give her. It’s admirable, a good man, a good parent.

“Uh, make it ten, please.” Joel steps up to the counter, taking out his wallet from a back pocket. “Half pumpkin, half apple. So folks can pick whichever one they want.”

“Ten, got it. It’s gonna take me a few minutes to finish up, do you want a coffee while you wait?” And you swear his gaze hardens as he looks up to see the price displayed on the screen, card ready to press against the pad after you finished punching in his order on your own side of the register. The same way they had just before he had kissed you, angled toward you in front of that fire, the determination set his face in such an endearing way.

“Would be wonderful, darlin’. Just a black drip, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Hey, just so you know, ‘m sorry I didn’t call.” Joel shuffles on his feet, watching as Sarah starts up the truck and begins to dance to the loud beats he can make out through the cracked window. You had walked out with the pair to help load the bags into the extended cab of the gleaming gray truck. “I wanted to, but-“

“Life is hectic sometimes, it’s okay. I’m not gonna say I wasn’t disappointed, but I do understand.” You know he’s got a lot more going on in his life, with a child he’s raising on his own. The bakery keeps you busy, hours not quite the same as everyone. You never want to feel like you’re holding expectations for a life that just doesn’t fit into your schedule sometimes. And that included Joel, his own busy schedule not allowing for personal indulgences either. It’s hard not to feel like it’s a cruel twist of fate, that you two met only to realize the puzzle pieces of your life don’t quite match up.

“The paper, I had it. Put it in my pocket but my brother snatched the flannel instead of his own at the work site and washed the damn thing.”

“Little brother?” You tilt your head to the side, all too familiar with the chaos of sheer unpredictability one could bring.

“Yep, meddling, clueless little brother.” He’s fascinating, every little detail you learn about him draws you in closer, a pull toward the man you’ve only gotten glimpses of as of yet.

“Mine is pretty clueless too, god love him.”

“But- uh…oddly enough,” A large hand rubs at the back of his neck, the muscles of his arm straining against his flannel sleeve and catching your eye. “Mine is having a small dinner tonight, just us two, Sarah and his wife. Their twins. I know you got work today and don’t really know me at all, but I was wondering if-“

“Apple or pumpkin?” Lips pulling into a wide smile, you swear your heart is about to beat out of your chest, thudding wildly the second you realized where he was going with his explanation of his own holiday plans.

“Huh?”

“Do you want me to bring an apple or pumpkin pie?” You look up at him through your lashes, heat blooming in your chest at the insinuation he wanted you there, at the invitation you hadn’t been extended in years. Everyone always wanted the good you baked, the bread, the skills you had for the kitchen. But they never particularly wanted you around for the holidays. The family disappointment, for not being married, for not having kids, for not finishing school, for being too different.

“Darlin’ you don’t have to bring anything, just want you to come and be my date.”

And he couldn’t have said anything more perfect as you feel your throat constrict and tears well up in your eyes.

“Hey now, I mean it.” He’s shifting, hands reaching for you and you feel a little sorry for the ‘oof’ he lets out when you crash into his open arms. “Wanna get to know you, but only if you want that too. If we can carve out some time for each other.”

“Of course, Joel. That would…that would make me happy.”

“’m droppin’ Sarah off now, gotta head to the site for a few hours but I can pick you up here once I’m done. That sound okay to you?” He looks so hopefully, so happy that he can ask you in person, can ask to see you again now that he’s found you and it melts your heart. You’re sure the smile you give him is just as dopey at the one he’s beaming down at you.

“Yes, that sounds perfect. Here.” You pull away from him just enough to reach into your back pocket and brandish a business card at him. The thick cardstock is embossed in gold lettering, your name and number displayed on it proudly. “This is a little more permanent than a flimsy piece of paper.”

He pulls one of his own business cards out from his wallet as he securely puts yours away.

You continue to feel the warmth of his fingers passing it to you even hours later as you hold piping bags filled with cooled frosting, as you add frills and garnishes to pastries set in the cooler after leaving the oven a nice golden brown. And even as you feel your face heat up at the confrontation Colbie sneaks in throughout the day about your ‘gentleman caller’.

Around noon, Joel’s truck parks out front of the bakery. He’s showered, it looks like it as you see the shine to dark curls. He’s taken a shaver to his scruff as well, it’s not as long as it had been this morning.

“Please tell me you’re closed tomorrow.” Joel taps the hours displayed on the door as he steps through it, the gold lettering telling him that you were in fact not. But open at seven am sharp. Looking up from where you’re closing down the register, you hold up one finger up to indicate you need a moment.

As you continue, you can sense his gaze as it takes in the space you poured your blood, sweat and tears into. Devoted hours to manifesting and making it a reality. The case is completely empty, parchment paper adorned with errant crumbs all that he sees inside through the shiny glass.

When you step out from behind the counter, bag and keys in hand, you clock the second Joel realizes you’ve taken a moment to change as well. No longer in your dirty apron or black athleisure, but in a skirt that flows to about midthigh, tights underneath and a thin sweater. Your hair is down too, now, no longer pulled back into low pigtails and covered with a beanie for safety reasons around the kitchen.

“Darlin’, you look-“ He swallows, tongue watering as he takes in the sight of you all dolled up for him, for a date with him. “You look amazin’.”

“Just some spare clothes I had in my office. Didn’t wanna roll up to your brother’s house covered in flour and chocolate.” He’s shushing you as he ambles up, pressing his lips to your forehead as he cradles your face.

“He wouldn’t have cared and neither would I. Today is about family, no matter their shape or mess, got it? Miller households are safe places, you hear me?”

The drive over to his brother’s is short, the two of them in the same neighborhood but different blocks something that tickles you to know end. Watchful big brother, independent little brother who didn’t want to stray too far. It’s endearing, so different from you own family. Parents live upstate, brother is still in university, opting to live in the dorms instead of with you. Younger sister god knows where now, she pops up every year with a crazy tale of where she ended up for most of the time she had disappeared.

His brother doesn’t seem surprised in the least when Joel shows up on his doorstep with you at his side, his greeting a wide smile and bright eyes. His wife, Maria is just as easy going, just as welcoming. Praising you for bringing dessert and that she had totally blanked on it for after the meal in the hectic planning of the day.

The atmosphere is cozy, holiday cheer abundant despite the temperate Texas weather that plagues the state year round. Sarah is particularly excited to be helping out this year, the first she’s old enough to. A set of twins half her age run around with shrieking laughter as Joel and Tommy chase them around and keep them busy while you help out in the kitchen as well, not wanting to just show up and sit around waiting for everything to be done.

It's so different from your usual meal alone, normally just leftovers from the day before on a tray as you settle in bed and binge watch something once the bakery closes up.

It warms your heart and makes you feel full in a way that being with your family never has. From the easy going conversation with Maria, the light teasing and focus of following instructions from Sarah, stolen glances with Joel, the wide brimming smile of his brother as he realizes that the scene is a little more complete with you there now.

“Tell me I can kiss you, please.” Joe’s lips brush the shell of your ear, causing you to shiver at the vibrations that caress the sensitive skin. He’s been angling closer all afternoon, the couch cushions flattening and sloping. Pooling you closer to where his thick thighs rest, to the intoxicating warmth of his body and the heady smell of his spiced cologne. The movie credits are playing softly on the screen, everyone well fed and just now recovering to tend to things such as packing up leftovers and beginning to organize what was left.

The second you two were alone, Joel had used the arm he had slung up on the back of the couch around your shoulders to tug you in close. Tucking you into him, he used his other hand to pivot your legs into his lap. He’s kneading the skin there, over your tights. Thick fingers daring to trace higher and higher as he pulls back to look into your eyes.

“You’re so goddamn pretty, baby, can’t believe my streak of bad luck.” And at the flash of guilt in the depths of warm brown eyes, you surge forward and kiss him with a ferocity that startles him. The small ‘humph!’ and the tightening of his hand around your thigh curls desire low in your middle as his tongue eagerly meets yours as you part your lips.

“Bad luck, good luck. Doesn’t matter.” You manage between deep kisses, hands threading through the thick locks of chocolate curls atop his head. “We’re here now, I’m here with you.”

“Good.” He’s swallowing the moan that bubbles up from how he presses into you, how he pulls you flush with him.

“Joel! We got a house full of impressionable kids and you’re just makin’ out on the couch with the baker?”

The deep rumble of his chuckle does nothing but make your stomach jolt as heat lances through your core. The sound hitting deep and making you bury your face in the man’s neck as he parts only his lips from yours.

“Gotta embarrass me always, huh?” He’s holding you tight still, hands gripping and knuckles straining with the effort it’s taking to stop his ministrations.

“Just keep it in your pants, we’ve got everything packed up for y’all to take home. Sarah’s tucked into the spare room, helping out this year really took it outta her.”

“That where she snuck off to?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. We can watch her for the night. She don’t go back to school until next week right? Just come get ‘er tomorrow. And you,” Tommy aims twin finger guns at you. “Are welcome back anytime, Maria really appreciated the help in the kitchen but mostly I think she just loved having another woman around to chat with. Seriously, she’s gonna offer to come by the bakery and grab lunch one day soon.”

With that, Tommy saunters back into the kitchen with a snicker of his own and some words you can’t quite make out to the woman in question.

“Well, what do ya think?” Joel moves to whisper in your ear again. “Wanna come back to mine? Or I could take you home? Whichever you want, sweetheart.”

The sudden image of you and Joel tangled up on top of your bed has you kissing him full on the mouth one last time.

“Take me home and then take me to bed.”

Giddy anticipation fills the cab of his truck, the engine ticking as he shuts it off and just sits back for a moment. His eyes find yours and you can’t help the giggle that bursts from your chest, hands tangled and fingers twisting around each other in your lap. His hand reaches and takes one of your own, engulfing it with the sheer size difference. His beautiful hands that craft houses and woodwork, his beautiful hands that raised his amazing, rambunctious but sweet daughter, his beautiful hands that held his young nephew and niece with such care. His beautiful hands that you’ve felt explore your body twice now, the urge for him to do so again so strong it makes you feel dizzy.

“I can leave if you’re nervous, darlin’. No pressure, no hard feelings.” Joel Miller, the man that he is, knew just what to say to ease your worries.

“No, no. I just…”

“Thank you, for today.” You whisper, emotions getting the better of you. “I really thought that…this year I’d be alone again. My family only ever asks after desserts, always schedules the meal late and too far away for me to make the drive. I…I really liked spending time with you and your family today, they made me feel so welcome and included. It- it was really nice, Joel.”

The trembling of your lower lip is embarrassing but you can’t fight it off as you bare your heart to the man beside you.

“Hey now, it’s okay. I got ya,” He’s shuffling closer, the console pushed up to allow him to slide across the bench seat. “They loved you, ‘m sure they wouldn’t mind seein’ you more.”

And it’s easy, the way he soothes the turmoil in your mind, begins to help heal the trauma that bubbles up this time of year.

It’s easy how he kisses you and makes you feel like the most important person in the world.

It’s easy how he let’s you guide him into your home with clasped hands and a shy smile.

It’s easy the next morning when you wake up beside him, his naked body like a furnace under the sheets as it wraps around your own. The hours posted on your bakery door correct except for the day that follows any holiday. His breath little puffs against the back of your neck as you both share a pillow, while your exhalation becomes needy as you feel an ache between your legs. Little whimpers thrown into the air with no regard to how desperate they sound.

Heat sparks through you as you recall the desire in his hooded eyes the night before as you straddled him, taking your time with lowering yourself onto his hard cock, already dribbling when he had shucked his pants off for you to see all of him for the first time. The sight of him sprawled across your bed, head thrown on the pillows and bronze skin gleaming in the low lights strung up over your bed had all but turned you possessive. The memories were too much, kindling desire and pleasure in you in such a way that should be a warning in itself that you were fucked.

You were gone on him and you could only hope he felt the same way.

Soon enough, the shifting of your thighs to relieve pleasure that tingles there rouses him.

“Woke up needy, huh darlin’?” His voice is deep velvet, the early morning blessing him with such a soothing baritone that it almost has you rolling your eyes at it caresses over your skin much like his exploring fingers.

“Mhm, can still feel you. Right here-“ And his hand flattens against the soft give of your stomach where you guided it, just below your belly button.

“Fuck, that’s so hot, you have no idea.” He’s crowding you, body shifting to press your chest to the bed, his legs tangling with yours as he kneels behind you. He hinges your hips, bringing them up to rub the length of his cock between your glistening folds. “So full a me still, holding it like such a good girl for me.”

The whine of his name from your lips has him pushing in, slowly and carefully until his hips meet the back of your thighs. Turning it into a low moan that raises the hairs on the back of his neck. Your panting is all he can hear, the clench of your walls all he can feel as your back arches and you press back into him.

“Right here, huh?” His hand is still on your belly, and it presses now, pulling a yelp from you as the pressure in your core intensifies. Your cunt gushes around him, earning you a hiss as he grinds himself against you to make a squelching sound.

“Please please please tell me we’re going to do this again.” You move on him, pulling forward a bit, knees spreading and hands gripping tight to the sheets underneath you. Joel’s answering groan is more than enough but his voice delivers your fate in such an easy way.

“Oh darlin’, we’re gonna be doin’ this every day for the rest of our lives.” And with that he moves to grip your hips so tight you’re sure there will be reddened imprints of his fingers, pulling out in a slow drag before he slams back in and sets a brutal pace.

And maybe the holidays aren’t so bad, after all.

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[babydoll372]

maria hill showing off her girl to the other female avengers? (e.g. natasha) smut please <3

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Pairings: Maria Hill x reader (established), Natasha Romanoff x reader, Wanda Maximoff x reader, Carol Danvers x reader, Kate Bishop x reader

Word count: 2135

Warnings: smut, fluff, five-some, food play, voyeruism, mentions of age gap relationship, mommy (M), slapping (once), masturbation, praise kink

Maria Hill has been your beloved girlfriend for six months now, and you couldn’t be any happier. Yes, you were judged quite a lot the moment people heard the large gap between your ages, but she always comforted those fears away. And today you worked hard to make it perfect to thank her for all she’s done and to celebrate the, hopefully, many years to go. From morning when she left for work with a soft kiss to your lips and a promise of returning shortly, you instantly began the step-by-step process of decorating a heart-shaped cake. You watched the video in slow motion, backtracking it often to ensure no step was to be missed. And then it was done, and you put it in the freezer before setting a timer for when it could cool down in the fridge. You weren’t going to mess that step up. 

You then hurried to the salon, asking the driver she provided you to ensure your secrecy in your whereabouts. The moment she pulled onto the main road you received a text from your girlfriend, she must’ve had alerts for whenever you left.

‘Where are you going?’ It was simple and small, but you read it with her demanding concern in your head.

‘It’s a secret! Please don’t track me, I’ll be safe, I promise!’ She eventually gave in after asking for multiple hints to which you didn’t give in. When you arrived you showed the photo you had found online, one you had been browsing upon and Maria seemingly enjoyed when you had handed her your phone. Now the nail tech could go off of reference and in less than an hour your hands and feet were carefully manicured. That left your hair, which was conveniently next door. When you arrived the lady gave you a short hug since she had already known you from many previous appointments. She happened to be the only woman you trusted with scissors in hand near your delicate locks. Luckily she wouldn’t be cutting anything today though, only styling. 

By the time you were home, you were able to check off your mental list. Cake? Made. Nails? Done. Hair? Done. The food was on its way and you asked your bodyguard to look out for it while you took a shower, being careful to ensure only your body was hit with water as you wrapped your neat blowout. You put on a dress along with layers of alluring oils and lotions before you heard the door open and close downstairs. You glanced in the mirror quickly before heading downstairs, a bright smile on your face as you saw a brief glimpse of Maria in the dining room. But then as you hurried closer, you noticed a group of women and furrowed your brows, your hand anxiously meeting your arm to make yourself seem smaller. 

“Babe?” Your girlfriend turned at the sound, looking you up and down with her jaw going slack. “Uhm…I thought it was our anniversary dinner tonight?” Your voice was low and quiet, trying not to let your vision blur from the tears that threatened to concur. Maybe it was small, maybe it wouldn’t matter to anyone else, but you tired yourself for hours to make this day perfect for not just the image of your relationship but to please her. 

“Well, of course it is. What, did you think I forgot?” She grabbed the bouquet of flowers she placed on the table and came to your side, making you hide your smile shyly as her hand found place on your buttock. She kissed your cheek a few times before lowering her gaze so you’d meet hers.

“I wanted to get you a special gift, sweetheart, something better than any flowers or wine I’ve bought.” Her friends consisted of women you had already met: Natasha, Wanda, Carol, and Kate. The dark-haired girl seemed nervous like you, not exactly knowing how to position herself to present as confident like the women beside her. 

“Y/N, you know my friends, right? From work? Well, I told them recently about our anniversary, and how excited we were. I showed them a photo of you, the one on the beach where you wore that sexy little bikini. Oh, yeah, I can tell you remember,” You blushed at the memory, fiddling with your fingers and shrugging. You slowly looked up and saw one of them, Natasha, smirking as she leaned on the table, staring at you with a deep intensity. 

“I- I remember them…and the photo too.” 

“Well, they all told me you looked absolutely adorable, and I couldn’t have agreed more. They said they wanted to see you, isn’t that right?” She looked up at the members, all of them in a seeming alliance. Wanda took the first step forward, giving an almost maternal, loving grin as she placed her hand on your arm and began stroking softly.

“We just couldn’t resist the offer, sweetie…but we do really hate to intrude on such an intimate night.” Your brows slowly furrowed as you turned to Maria for answers, whispering quietly.

“What offer is she referring to?” 

You swore it happened in a blink of an eye. One moment you were showing off the cake you made proudly, your girlfriend admiring your hair and nails and guiding you along the table to show everyone else. The dress you wore clinging tightly to your body and having Maria’s hand on your thigh rubbing softly the entire time as she hummed at the flavor of the dessert you made, skipping over dinner with the promise she’d get to it later. She’d watch you blush as the guests spoke fondly of you, each of the older women sharing compliments on your beauty or your talents, your generosity or your sweet and innocent nature. 

But now you were sitting on Maria’s lap, your legs spread out wide despite your shame. You sniffled, trying to hide your red face from the guests but all of them gushed over it, a few of them moaning at the sight. Then their eyes would trail down to your leaking cunt with their coworker's toy shoving deep within your hole before exiting once more. You moan loudly at the large contraption, only to try and quiet yourself by biting your lip. Wanda’s hand was already on Natasha’s clit while the redhead fingered the witch generously with two slender fingers. Carol had her hand amongst her pants with her button undone, her sensitive bud being furiously rubbed as she watched your body shake and compulse. Kate glanced between you and her coworkers awkwardly, slowly bringing a few fingers to her mouth before allowing them past her shorts. She gave you a guilty look, not wanting to meet your eyes. Your puffy cunt’s sore, now reddened features matched her blushing face. 

“You wanna tell the girls how good Mommy makes you feel? Hm?” You nodded, but it wasn’t enough for her. Her hand that had been stroking your thigh came to slap your cheek, making you whimper.

“M-Mommy makes me feel- feel so good!” You drunkenly mumbled out, your brain in a hazy fog created not by alcohol but by their intoxicating gazes. 

“Good girl. Mommy doesn’t like hurting you, but you need to listen.” The dildo was pounding into your grasping walls, your legs struggling to stay open if it wasn’t for her hand pulling them apart constantly with reassurance and reminder. 

“Looks like Wanda’s close already, baby, you see what you do to us?” Your eyes were forced to the older woman, noticing a similar state of arousal, only she was allowed to reach it. She had a small grin forming on her lips as she came down, riding Natasha’s fingers delicately. 

“Does that turn you on, hm? Watching my coworkers cum just from watching you? Your pussy is practically drooling at the thought, sweetheart.” She chuckled lowly, and you embarrassingly tried to hide but there was nowhere to go. You were surrounded by multiple women who were waiting to see you orgasm, who were impeding on it. And so you let go with Maria’s permission, your juices squirting onto the floor in front of you and her covered thighs as she kissed along your neck. You didn’t see Kate being demanded to grab the cake from the kitchen table with your eyes squeezed shut, and you didn’t hear it in your orgasmic state. All you know is that in moments you suddenly transferred into Kate’s shaky arms and when you looked down, Maria was kneeling between you. You whimpered, not ready for the overstimulation already tempting to envelop your senses, but the archer made sure her job was done currently and held your legs apart, whispering an apology in your ear and asking if you were comfortable. You slowly nodded, but you were interrupted by a jerk of your hips when you felt one of Maria’s slender fingers against your clit along with a cold, soft texture.

Your cake. She smirked up at you with frosting on her fingers, rubbing it around your sensitive bud softly as the other three women watched in amusement. 

“Watch closely, Kate, this will be the only lesson you get on how to properly eat someone out.” You heard a voice that wasn’t Maria’s, but you couldn’t tell whose it was as your focus was solely on the pulsing of your cunt. You felt the girl's quick nod and her chin lingering over your shoulder, glancing at you nervously. 

“Sorry if I’m in the way, I just- I want to see…” Kate didn’t exactly know how to say, ‘I’m trying to watch your girlfriend eat you out’, so she awkwardly stumbled over her words before returning her gaze to Maria’s tongue that peaked out, slowly encircling your clit. Your hands quickly gripped her hair, and suddenly you felt the couch cushion dip beside you as Carol softly stroked your hair, her hand on your thigh to console you.

“Kate, you’re meant to ease her a bit.”

“B-but I’m holding her legs open…how am I meant to?” She looked between Carol and the stimulation you were receiving, not wanting to miss any bit of it. Natasha scoffed out a chuckle and came to your other side, taking the place of the younger woman’s hand as the archer struggled to find a new place for it. Wanda sat behind everyone, watching the scene unfold in front of her as red swirls encircled her fingers, and suddenly, Kate’s hand was being lifted to your supple breasts as you whimpered. Maria was furiously attacking your swollen pussy, acting as though this was her first and last meal on earth, but it was most certainly the tastiest. 

“You see what I’m doing here?” Maria had pulled back to say, only to return for a quick moment and pull back again. “You have to stimulate the clit first. Only when she is dripping is she ready.” Your girlfriend hummed as she teased your previously stretched hole with her tongue, making you whine loudly as she smirked up at you. 

“W-what if she’s not, you know, dripping?” Natasha leaned her head down a bit, whispering yet it was loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Then she’s just not that into you, detka.” Kate pouted softly as the redhead chuckled, running her fingers through your soft hair. Wanda watched in slight dissatisfaction and anger as the girl struggled to figure out what to do with your breasts, bringing you no activation. Once again, her magic swirled around her fingers as Kate’s began tweaking your nipples, your whimpers loud across the living room as everyone knew you were close. Your abs were tightening, your core was spasming, your eyes were rolled to the back of your head as your jaw was slackened.

“Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!” You were unable to form anything else, but Maria nodded against you, letting you know it was okay. Your fingers tightened on her scalp as she brought you to your peak once more, your juices savoring in her mouth as you nearly fell over. Kate was quick to hold you still, whispering questions in your ear.

“Are you okay? Do you need me to get anything? Water?”

“She can barely understand a word you’re saying right now, Katie.” She glared at Maria for the nickname but huffed quietly as she kept her head on your chin.

“I still don’t know if I’ll be able to do it right…what am I going to do?” The three glanced at each other as if they were secretly formulating a plan, and they were. Soon after Kate was the one kneeling between your knees nervously, gulping down her anxiety while she slowly brought her face closer.

“I hope this lives up to your anniversary night expectations, Y/N…”

[nomie-11]

Chase After You

masterlist! | part 2 | part 3

synopsis: vi swears she doesn't have a soulmate, you swear that your soulmate is a masochist. Turns out you do exist, and turns out Vi plays hockey

pairings: vi x reader, lowkey ellie x dina

Your soulmate must have been an absolute idiot. 

Caitlyn said that he “or she, I don’t discriminate,” was probably a masochist because every day it seemed you woke up with another bruise or another cut. You couldn’t even count the amount of times you had woken up in the morning with a concussion—it was a miracle your soulmate was even alive at this point. 

“I’m just saying,” Caitlyn continued as she leaned against the counter of the campus coffee shop where the two of you had made it a ritual to meet after your clinical rotations. “Whoever they are, they’ve got to have the worst luck—or they’re actively looking for trouble.” 

You sipped your coffee, wincing as the hot liquid hit the tender inside of your lip. A split lip, courtesy of your soulmate, who had clearly been in some kind of fight last night. Again. 

“Maybe they’re a professional fighter,” you mused, though you were only half-serious. “That would explain all the bruises.” 

Caitlyn snorted. “Or just clumsy.” 

“Clumsy doesn’t explain the frequency, Caitlyn” you countered, setting  your coffee down. “If they’re not in some sort of contact sport, then they’re probably fighting for their life every day. Literally.” 

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You sure you didn’t end up with some sort of action hero? Like, next thing you know, they’ll show up at your rotations bleeding everywhere, and your soulmate bond will suddenly light up in a dramatic fashion.”

“Very funny,” you muttered, though the thought lingered. You were in your second year of nursing school, constantly surrounded by patients—maybe Caitlyn wasn’t too far off. But the soulmate connection was supposed to be this once-in-a-lifetime, world-shaking thing, and you’d never felt anything remotely close to that. 

The coffee shop door chimed, and a gust of cold air swept through as someone stumbled in. You didn’t look up at first, too focused on scrawling notes in your planner about your upcoming rotations. But then Caitlyn’s voice dropped into a low, surprising whisper. 

“Uh, okay. Forget clumsy. I think your soulmate might actually be a hockey player.” 

You glanced up, curious, and froze. 

Standing at the counter, looking half-dead but still smirking like they’d just won the lottery, was Vi, the captain of Piltover University’s Women’s Hockey Team. You didn’t know her personally, but you knew of her—how could you not? Every gay girl within a twenty mile radius knew of her. She was hot. From her cocky grin to her colorful undercut, which always seemed to peek out from beneath her helmet, there was no doubt about it. 

But that wasn’t what made your breath catch. It was the way your chest tightened, how everything in the room seemed to quiet for a split second. 

Then the pain hit. 

You instinctively touched your ribs, feeling a sharp ache that hadn’t been there before. At the same time, Vi winced, her hand going to the exact same spot. Her gaze flickered toward you after searching the coffee shop, her blue eyes narrowing slightly, like she was trying to figure something out. 

You felt Caitlyn’s hand on your arm. “Oh my god,” she hissed. “It’s her, isn’t it?” 

“No!” You bit back, immediately averting your eyes. “No way.” 

If you don’t see her, she doesn’t exist. 

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

Vi was convinced she didn’t have a soulmate. 

She had no visible soulmate mark, no timer and—besides her own—no tattoo. She didn’t see in black and white, didn’t have a red string of fate. It didn’t make any sense, the only explanation being that she doesn’t have one. 

Her friend on the hockey team—Ellie—had suggested that maybe it was a feeling soulmate mark. Maybe she was supposed to feel sick when you got sick, or maybe she was supposed to feel hurt when she got hurt. But she never felt… anything. 

That is, until the migraines started. 

It had been two weeks of relentless, skull-splitting pain, and Vi was on the verge of losing her mind. She’d never been the type to care much about school, but even hockey practice was becoming unbearable. The bright lights of the rink made her head pound, and the noise of her teammates shouting felt like nails being driven into her skull. She didn’t dare tell Coach—she had enough to deal with trying to keep her captaincy without giving them a reason to bench her. 

But she couldn’t hide it from Ellie. 

“You’re rubbing your temples again,” Ellie said as she sprawled on the locker room bench, laving up her skates. “What, you suddenly got old-person headaches or something?”

Vi shot her a glare. “They’re migraines. And it’s not funny.” 

Ellie’s smirk faltered, replaced by a frown. “Okay, but, like… you don’t just start getting migraines out of nowhere. You stressed or something? Got some secret essays piling up that I don’t know about?” 

Vi let out a frustrated groan, dropping her helmet onto the bench with a clatter. “I don’t know, Ellie! It’s not stress, okay? They just came out of nowhere, and I can’t get rid of them. I’ve tried everything—water, sleep, painkillers—nothing works.” 

Ellie tilted her head, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully. “Huh.” 

“What?” 

“Well…” Ellie dragged the word out as she tied a perfect knot. “You don’t think this could be, like… soulmate related, do you?”

Vi scoffed, folding her arms. “What? No. I don’t even have a soulmate.” 

Ellie gave her a pointed look. “You don’t know that. Just because you don’t have a mark or whatever doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. There are, like, a million different types of soulmate connections. Feeling someone else’s pain is totally one of them.” 

Vi blinked, the idea sinking in despite her best efforts to shrug it off. “So what? You think my soulmate is walking around with migraines 24/7? Who the hell stays up late enough or is dumb enough to dehydrate themselves this much?” 

Ellie grinned. “Exactly the kind of person you’d be soulmates with. You’re a trainwreck magnet.” 

Vi rolled her eyes, but the knot of worry in her chest didn’t go away. “Even if you’re right—which you’re not—I don’t know who it is. How am I supposed to fix this? Walk around asking random people if their head hurts every time mine does?” 

Ellie snickered. “You could start with that cute girl from the coffee shop. The one who was staring at you like you were some kind of mythical creature last week.” 

Vi stiffened. “What girl?” 

“You know. Black sweater, big eyes, looked like she wanted to crawl under the table when you caught her staring.” Ellie’s smirk widened. “She bolted so fast, I thought she might leave a cartoon dust cloud behind.” 

Vi groaned, her hands dragging down her face. “You’re impossible.” 

Ellie shrugged, grabbing her stick and standing up. “Hey, I’m just saying. You’ve got migraines, she looked like she was about to faint—sounds like a soulmate connection to me.” 

“Ellie, drop it.” 

“Fine, fine.” Ellie paused by the door, grinning back over her shoulder. “But if she shows up at your next game, you owe me a drink.” 

Vi glared after her, her headache suddenly feeling worse.

————————

Your day had started out pleasant. 

You woke up on time, didn’t have a splitting headache or a new bruise, and had your fresh and folded laundry waiting for you from the day before as you finally pulled yourself out of bed. Even Jayce and Caitlyn seemed to get the ‘good day’ memo—the two of them swinging by your apartment with coffee before the three of you headed off to class. 

It was nice, until it wasn’t. It all went downhill when the throbbing started. 

It wasn’t your usual soulmate-related ache—no split lip, no bruised knuckles, no sudden stab in your ribs. This was different. Familiar, but different no less. A dull, creeping pressure that started behind your eyes and spread through your skull like a slow wave. By the time your second lecture had started, it was unbearable. 

“Are you okay?” Caitlyn asked, leaning over from her seat. Her voice was low enough not to draw the professor’s attention, but the concern was evident. “You look pale.” 

You pressed your fingers to your temples, trying to will the pain away. “Migraines,” you muttered. “Really bad one.” 

Caitlyn frowned. “You went to bed early last night.” 

“Apparently, that doesn’t do anything for me anymore.”

You barely made it through the rest of the lecture. By the time you were packing up your things, Caitlyn was hovering like a worried mother hen. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to skip clinicals today? Jayce can take your rotation, you look like you’re about to pass out.” 

“No, I’m fine,” you insisted, though your voice lacked conviction. “I’ll just grab some water and take something for the pain.” 

Caitlyn didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push further as the two of you made your way out of the lecture hall. 

You thought you were doing a decent job of toughing it out until you practically walked right into Jayce in the hallway as he excited his pathophysiology lecture. 

“Whoa, you good?” he asked, steadying you when you stumbled slightly. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

“Migraines again,” you mumbled again, brushing him off. “I’m fine.” 

Jayce gave Caitlyn a questioning look, but she just shrugged. 

The rest of the day was a blur. The pain didn’t ease up—it never did until you went to sleep—and every bright light or loud noise seemed to stab through your skull. By the time you reached the coffee shop for your usual post-clinical ritual, you were barely holding it together. 

Caitlyn was mid-sentence when the door chimed. 

“Do you think it could be stress? Your migraines never used to be so bad—”

Her words trailed off, her expression shifting to one of disbelief. 

“What now?” you groaned, not bothering to look up. 

Caitlyn’s hand gripped your arm. “Don’t freak out, but she’s here.” 

“Who?” 

“Don’t be an idiot. You know who.” 

You blinked up at her, confused, before following her gaze toward the counter. 

There she was again—Vi. This time, she looked even rougher than before, with dark circles under her eyes and a visible bandage peeking out from under her sleeve. She had her fingers pressed to her temples as she leaned against the counter, waiting for her friend to finish ordering. 

And then it happened. 

Your headache, which had been a steady, unrelenting pressure all day, suddenly spiked. A sharp, blinding pain shot through your temples, and you let out a quiet gasp, clutching your head. 

Across the room, Vi froze, and her friend immediately snapped up. 

Her gaze hit yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. The pain in your head mirrored the way her hand shot up to press against her temple, and her eyes widened in recognition. 

“Oh, no,” you whispered, panic setting in. 

Caitlyn’s eyes darted between you and Vi, her mouth falling open. “It’s her. It’s definitely her.” 

You scrambled to your feet, heart racing. “Nope. Not happening.” 

You bolted.  

“Hey! Y/N!” Caitlyn hissed after you, but you didn’t stop.  

The door slammed shut behind you, and the crisp evening air hit your face like a slap. Your heart was pounding, your migraine screaming in protest at your sudden movement, but the overwhelming panic drowned it out. You didn’t know where you were going, only that you had to get away. Far away.  

Unfortunately, the universe—or more specifically, Vi—had other plans.  

“Wait!”  

Her voice was rough, loud enough to cut through the noise of the street and send a fresh wave of adrenaline coursing through your veins. You didn’t look back, breaking into a full sprint.  

Behind you, you heard heavy, determined footsteps.  

“Oh, come on!” Vi groaned. “You’re really gonna make me chase you?”  

You didn’t answer, too focused on not tripping over your own feet. The ache in your legs spread quickly, your lungs burning as you pushed yourself harder.  

“Damn it,” you heard her mutter, closer this time. “You’re not even good at running!”  

“No one asked you!” you shouted over your shoulder, breathless and desperate.  

Vi let out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re serious? You’re yelling at me while running away?”  

“Yes!”  

She groaned, and her footsteps quickened. “You can’t outrun me, you know. You might as well stop before you pass out!”  

Her voice was closer now, and you risked a glance back. Bad idea.  

Vi was gaining fast, her long legs eating up the distance between you with ease. She wasn’t even winded. Meanwhile, you were gasping for air, feeling like your legs might give out any second.  

“Leave me alone!” you shouted, panic edging into your voice.  

“Can’t do that!” she called back, her tone surprisingly light for someone who was literally chasing you down. “You’re my soulmate, remember?”  

Those words sent a jolt through you, and you stumbled slightly, your pace faltering. That split-second mistake was all she needed.  

Vi caught up in a flash, one strong hand wrapping gently around your wrist as she slowed to a stop. You tried to pull away, but she held firm, her grip steady but not painful.  

“Let me go!” you gasped, twisting in her grasp.  

“Hey, hey!” Vi said quickly, holding up her free hand in a gesture of surrender. “Relax, okay? I’m not here to hurt you!”  

You glared up at her, chest heaving, and she met your gaze with an almost apologetic smile. Up close, she looked even rougher—dark circles under her eyes, a fresh cut on her lip, and that same bandage on her arm.  

“Look,” she said, her voice softer now. “I get it. This is… a lot. Trust me, I wasn’t expecting to meet you today either. But running away? Not the best idea.”  

“Why not?” you snapped, still trying to catch your breath.  

Vi smirked, the corner of her mouth twitching upward. “Because I’m an elite athlete, so now you’re even more exhausted, and I’m still here.”  

You glared at her, unsure if you wanted to scream or cry. “What do you want from me?”  

She blinked, her expression softening. For a moment, she looked almost shy, which was wildly unfair given how confident she’d been five seconds ago.  

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I mean, I didn’t even think I had a soulmate until, like, two weeks ago. And then today, bam, migraines, and here you are.”  

Yuo stared at her, dumfounded, and still too overwhelmed to make sense of her words. “That’s not an answer.”

Vi sighed, releasing your wrist but saying close enough that you couldn’t just bolt against. “Okay, fine. I guess I want to… figure this out. I mean, we’re soulmates, right? So maybe we could just… start there?” 

“Start there?” you repeated, incredulous. “You don’t even know me.”

“Exactly.” her lips curved into a small, lopsided smile. “Let’s change that.” 

You opened your mouth to argue, but the way she was looking at you—earnest, a little nervous, but stubborn enough not to let you push her away—made the words catch in your throat. 

Caitlyn’s voice rang in your mind: Whoever they are, they’re probably a masochist. 

Vi seemed to read your hesitation as a crack in the wall you’d been trying so hard to keep up. She tilted her head slightly, her blue eyes locking onto yours with unnerving intensity. 

“Look,” she said, her tone gentler now. “I’m not asking you to, like, fall into my arms or anything. I just want to get to know you. No pressure, no expectations. What do you say? Coffee after your next rotation? My treat.” 

You hesitated, your heart still racing. “Why should I trust you?” 

Her smile faltered, and for a split second, you saw something raw in her expression—something that made your chest tighten. She winced slightly, rubbing the back of her neck. “Honestly? I don’t know how much longer I can handle these migraines, so we need to find a cure or something.” 

That earned a startled laugh from you, despite yourself. “So, this is selfish.” 

“Totally,” she admitted, grinning now. “But if it gets me a chance to spend some time with you, I’ll take it.” 

You studied her for a long moment, torn between wariness and the tiniest flicker of curiosity. Finally, you sighed, crossing your arms. “Fine. One coffee. After my next rotation. That’s it.”

Vi’s grin widened, and for a moment, you were struck by how bright it was—how it softened the sharp edges of her features. “Deal.” 

As she stepped back to give you space, you realized something strange: your headache was already starting to fade. Grabbing a random business card from her pocket and a pen from another, she scribbled down her number and lightly shoved it into your hands. 

“See you around,” Vi said, giving you a little wave before turning and jogging off down the street. 

You watched her go, still unsure if you’d just made a huge mistake, or taken the first step toward something you couldn’t even begin to understand.

this is the first part in a three part series! read part 2 here! reader part 3 here!

If you enjoyed this one shot, please check out my other series!