#& from there they both forget about the ending almost entirely

[willyoubemycherryy]

Round & Round. (Bo Chow x Reader)

Summary: When sneaking around leads to something more… Why is sex always better with someone you aren’t supposed to be with?

Contains: MODERNAU!, age gap relationship, ur 22 and if not act like it, flirting, established relationship, kissing, smutty, light for3play, making out, cursing, ur insanely gorgeous, like birds falling out the sky to be near you type fine, Bo still has a country accent, hair pulling, secret dating, allusions to nighttime Funtime, petnames, he’s also a lil obsessed

A/N- This is part of the best friends dad! college secret dating au which I just now decided was a thing :)

XD • XD • XD • XD • XD • XD • XD• XD • XD • XD •

Bo had a feeling it was going to be something when he saw you running out to his car out from the side of your dorm building’s door way after lights out, in a pretty little black number.

The snug thing wasn’t too tight but the way the fabric fell and molded against your body was a bit too perfect, and it was short too. Smooth pretty cleavage on display. Your hair was down and he could feel himself losing his breath when suddenly you’re sitting in his passenger seat looking at him with those starry eyes and his heart stops.

Since the day he first met you, he’d noticed you always picked and chose your makeup differently. The lashes, blush, gloss, everything was always different or missing entirely and you were pretty either way. But this?

Your big doe eyes look almost sleepy because of the way your lashes were done, blush high on your cheekbones, tinted glossed up lips, white sparkly shit on the inner corners of your eyes making you look almost angelic with your smooth soft legs, re situating yourself in your seat- toes painted his favorite shade of red through your heels. Then he notices your smell and actively has to fight to keep from eating you down. It must have been new because he’d have definitely remembered that smell on you. It was candy sweet, light, and on you? Arousing. The longer he smelled and looked at you, the more he swore you were intentionally trying to drive him crazy.

You on the other hand were trying so hard to hide the victorious smirk at Bo’s “subtle” reaction. You’d planned this all the way to the T but there was a catch: Bo could only get some after the date, no skippies and as you look down, you know that’ll be a bit of an issue. For him.

Wanting to keep up your clueless act, you do what you always do and climb halfway over the console, swinging your leg over his thigh, half sitting in his lap with a breathy ‘hi baby’ as you cup his face- ignoring your dress riding up. Pouting your lips slightly before pecking at his in lingering, syrupy, kisses that only get harder as his strong arms wrap around you. His lips chasing yours.

Letting your mouths fit and slide against each other, they grow slick with your lipgloss, until you pull away with a wet ‘pop’ when he starts suckling on your bottom lip; denying him entrance, you hiss slightly at the sensation, moving up a little on his lap to get a good look at him.

That ends up being a terrible error on your part because he looks about ready to eat you. Bo’s normally brown eyes are almost black, only a bit of the color visible past his blown out pupils, his already pink lips parted as they shine with your shared gloss.

However, if there’s one thing you are it’s a tease so you let his hands wander over your body shamelessly, squeezing and massaging while you eye fuck each other after barely exchanging more than two words.

“Are you gonna take me or did you forget?”

Your words are purposely double sided as you raise an eyebrow, batting your lashes. You know he catches the meaning because you feel his hands tighten around your hips with a low groan.

“Mmhm. Keep playing. You cute now but you and I both know I only need 5 minutes to get you singin’ a real different tune.”

Even though his tone had no actual bite- all amusement, you knew he meant business and it makes you gasp because it usually took a lot more to make him crack even slightly.

Your gasp quickly tapers off into a moan as Bo pulls you into his lap completely, burying his face in your neck, inhaling deeply before groaning out,

“Fuck. You smell so good. Good enough to goddamn eat and lookin’ just as delicious.” Your body flushes with pure heat as you shiver at the visual his words give you and the throb in your core follows. Without missing a beat, Bo’s grabbing your hips, grinding dazedly up against your wet clothed cunt. A pleasured moan shoots from your chest; both of you breathing heavily and you try not to be too loud since you two were still on campus.

“Yeah? I got it just for you but,” you pause, struggling to get your words out without moaning through to the way his strong hands felt roaming all over you. Still, you push on.

“We have to go, mmm- our date remember? You said we’d go do some dancin’, plus we’re still on college grounds- ah! At least pull off-!” You were cut off as you felt his hand run smoothly up under your dress, right over your pussy as his other hand locks in your hair and pulls. The sting sends shocks through your and you throb. Bo exposes your chest as he starts lapping and sucking wetly at your cleavage. The harsh sucking of his sultry lips on the top of your tits and neck added with his teasing fingers, has you whining and writhing in his lap in record time, lips parting as you cry out his name.

You were getting carried away.

It all just felt so good.

The way he looked at you, how well he treated you, the way you always wanted each other, the way he just looked so good, so effortlessly-all the time. You’ve only been dating for a few months but being together felt so natural and that’s what really did it for you.

And damn was he fine. It really was starting to become almost impossible for you two to separate.

Logically, you knew you had to because the risk was simply too high. Your campus gossip vine was no joke and if Lisa heard and found out you were sneaking around with her dad after being spotted in his lap kissing like he was a second away from laying you across the dashboard and railing your lights out- she’d kill you and send your ashes somewhere else.

You were both adults but it still felt like a betrayal and you knew that if it ever did get out, you wouldn’t be able to bring yourself to keep being with him anymore. Just the thought of breaking up made you feel sick. So, you kiss back just as feverishly. Whining when he sucks your tongue into his mouth, lips molding together again. When his fingers get to swirling those delicious little circles into your clit, you force yourself to pull away just enough to press one final kiss against his swollen lips- moving back altogether and putting a hand on his chest to stop him when he tries to follow you.

By the end of it all you’re both panting, your dress has ridden up almost all the way with your wetness soaking through the front of his slacks where you were seated tightly against him. Darkening hickeys are scattered all over your chest; shining with his saliva, and he was no better off. Bo was sweating- so hard he was straining against said pants and his hair was in all kinds of disarray with your lip tint smeared all over his face and jaw.

You both look at the each other’s handiwork, breaking out into almost embarrassed but happy smiles. Bo takes your hands, holding them delicately in his rougher ones- pressing tender kisses on your knuckles. Holding them to his chest and smiling boyishly up at you and you feel your heart swell with affection as you look at him sweetly.

“Y’really do look lovely. I meant ta say so earlier but you have a way of gettin’ to me.” He confesses so earnestly that you might as well be flying on cloud nine.

“Thank you- you’re just as easy on the eyes yourself”, you purr. Kissing him on the chin with a smile.

“You still wanna go? I’ll go wherever you want but you got a lil’ um..”, he points with his finger, “on your neck..and chest…”

He’s so sweet about it you laugh as you slide back into your seat; feeling around until you hold up your clutch with a light ‘ha!’ Leaning over as you meet in a soft kiss.

“It’s okay, I bought stuff for touch ups.”

“Of course y’did.”

You two finally pull off and you turn on the radio as you fix your makeup and cover the marks. Looking over when you’re done, you admire how fine Bo looks when he’s focused.

You were never a subtle girl. He can feel your eyes burning into him and he grins, chuckling lowly under his breath.

“Y’wantin’ somethin’ from me, pretty?”

God, you love it when he talks to you like that.

“Oh I do. But I know you’ll give it to me later. Right baby?”

He grips your thigh, fingers dancing dangerously close to your pussy when he drawls out,

“Mhmm. Y’can get whatever you want f’me.”

You almost break your neck with how fast you turn to face him, jaw slack at the liquid heat suddenly boiling your blood and you need to calm down. Busying yourself, you take a makeup wipe to clean around his mouth and jaw where you got your lip-stain.

“There. Want me to fix your hair back?” He’s quiet for a beat before he answers,

“No, but thank you princess”. You beam at him and nod, enjoying the music before he asks you if you plan on putting the hurt on him too bad tonight.

“Depends…”, you answer vaguely but he’s all too familiar with your brand of dog and pony. Turning your chin with his index finger at the next red light, he turns to whisper against your lips.

“Oh yeah? On what?” He watches you swallow as his own blood starts to rush.

“How fast you tire me out first.”

He smirks.

“Trust, baby…that won’t be a problem.”

[heesmiles]

FOREVER HOLD YOUR PEACE l.hs

೨౿ ⠀  ׅ ⠀   ̇  7k ⸝⸝ . ‌ ׅ ⸺ word count.

pairings 𝜗𝜚 heeseung ៹ fem ! reader ᧁ ; smut ˒ angst ˒ slice of life

warnings ⊹₊ ⋆ smut mdni. reader and Heeseung are NOT good people. toxic relationships betrayal runaway bride trope interrupting a wedding. cheating (don't like it don't read it) fist fights unprotected sex (bad) oral male receiving tit fuck mirror sex bathroom sex (multiple times) filthy to be honest ft. Yunjin (le sserafim) and Belle (Kiss of life - this is an old fic btw) heartbroken jay (I'm sorry jay ily) + more I'm probably forgetting about.

in which ୨୧ You shouldn't love him. you were marrying his best friend for gods sake, but you couldn't help your feelings and on what's supposed to be the best day of your life it became clear that Heeseung couldn't help his feelings either.

★ ! rain's mic is on ⋆ ͘ . GUYSSSS I FINALLY FOUND THIS!!!!!!!! this is from my old account!! I'm reposting it! This was when I first started posting on blr so be kind to the writing, it's terrible. but I love this fic and I don't know why.

You shouldn't be doing this. It was terrible, it was wrong, it was so so wrong. How could something so exceptionally good be so erroneous. You couldn't help it, truly. Heeseung was your kryptonite and he knew it. In fact he was rather smug with the fact.

He currently had you bent over the vanity in the run down bathroom at the very venue you were meant to get married in as soon as tomorrow. This was your fucking rehearsal dinner and here you were fucking the best man, who is also your husband to-be's best friend. You were a terrible person doing a terribly impermissible thing. Something Jay would hate you both for, rightfully so.

Still the desire you felt in your veins for Heeseung was simply inextinguishable. The heat of your love burned too brightly to be put out. No matter how many times you had tried to stop whatever this was you couldn't. You always found yourself back together, him deep inside you for hours on end in the most outlandish of places. Bathrooms, cars, dressing rooms, closets. Anywhere you could get your hands on each other you did.

It started a random night when you and Jay had a big fight. Thinking your relationship was over you drowned your sorrows at the local pub near your house. Somewhere Heeseung had apparently frequented after stressful days of work. One thing lead to another and you ended up in the bathroom together, then you ended up in his bed for hours you were tangled up in one another not thinking of the repercussions of your more then distasteful actions.

The morning after when you woke up with a pounding headache and a memory that had made you sick to your stomach you cried for what seemed like days. Jay had called you apologizing near tears as he assumed you were cooling off at your best friend Yunjin's house. You and Heeseung swore that it was brief lapse in judgement and that it would never happen again, it would become something you took to your grave.

Until it happened again, and again, and again. Every chance you got. The sick feeling afterwards never really faded. The guilt of what the two of you were doing eating you up inside. Even then you didn't stop. Heeseung was like a drug, one that consumed your entire being.

You found yourself thinking about him at almost all waking moments. Even when Jay and yourself were being intimate you thought of Heeseung and the way he knew your body better than any man you had ever been with, including Jay. How he could get you to cum with a simple lick of his tongue on your clit. He was the best lover you've ever took to your bed. On top of all that he was the best friend you could dream of having.

While you had a more than stellar sex life with Heeseung you also had an amazing friendship, speaking until all hours of the night about any and everything. The conversations never grew awkward the moments never growing stale. Soon you found yourself falling in absolute love with him.

Leaving Jay was something you wouldn't even think about doing, It would hurt him way too much. The man had adored you, he treated you like a princess. You were the least deserving person of his love and yet you were terrified of being without him. What would your family think? Your friends? They would hate you, they would judge you.

Of course you and Heeseung had talked about running away together but it just wasn't feasible at the moment. In all honestly the thought of leaving was something you were running away from. You were too comfortable with your daily life and routine. The thought of starting over scared you. It was hard to admit that the thought slightly excited you too. The thought of being with Heeseung all in. No secrets, no hiding. Free to love each other out in the open, but it wasn't that simple and no one in your life would forgive you for it. No matter how tempting the idea was.

The night that Jay had proposed to you was a bittersweet one. You knew you had loved Jay but you also knew that you weren't in love with him. It hurt you more to admit that to yourself. When he proposed your friends and family were there, including Heeseung. Who had a smile that only you knew was fake on his face. He clapped like everyone else when you accepted but you knew the true turmoil circling in his head.

That was more than evident when he later pushed you into the bathroom of the fancy restaurant. Yanking your panties down and pushing into you in desperation against the wall of the bathroom. He had your throat between his fingers squeezing it like a vice as he muttered words of dominance in your ear. You were begging for him to give you some sort of mercy as his pace was Moree brutal than you had ever seen.

"You're mine" He grunted when he came inside of you for the second time in a row. His lips attached to your tits where you had to yank his head off so he wouldn't leave any marks. Something he was less than pleased about. He inserted his fingers in your heat pushing his leaking cum back into the hole that he had just abused. Ordering you to put your panties back on and walk around with the evidence of him all night.

When you had finally went home that night you faked falling asleep early with the guise of being exhausted from all the excitement of the day. You already felt dirty from having Heeseung's spend in you all night you didn't want to feel worse by sleeping with Jay that same night.

You knew how all this had sounded, you knew how it looked and still you continued and truthfully you had no intention of stopping.

"You're so sexy" Heeseung grunted from behind you. His thrusts were quick and precise. The wack of his hips against yours furthered the arousal coursing through you. "Taking me so good like a good little wife." His voice was firm as he whispered the words in your ear taunting you.

The white rehearsal dress you were wearing was bunched up around your waist, your panties hastily pushed down your legs for quick and easy access. Heeseung's tie crooked and hair disheveled from the heated make out session you were having only ten minutes ago.

"Hee" You gasped out griping the basin of the sink in your hands. "feels so good" You words were slurred as Heeseung continued his assault on your battered core. His grip on your hips tightening with every thrust and every slam of his hips.

"Yeah?" Heeseung smirked watching your face contort from the pleasure through the mirror in front of you. "Who's making you feel so good baby?" His breathing was heavy the words sounding more breathy than you were sure was intended.

"You" You whispered out, struggling to find the words he was chasing after.

"What was that?" He continued to taunt. His hand snaked around your neck squeezing lightly as he brought your mouth to his, hovering over your lips but not fully connecting them. You whined pushing your face forward in a feeble attempt at connecting your lips with his.

"No no" Heeseung tisked with a coo. "Answer my question baby..who's making you feel so good?" His tongue ghosted the outside of your lips grazing them in a tantalizing way.

"You" You gasped out "You Heeseung" You knew he was looking for his name to fall from your lips. His smirk all the evidence you needed to know that you had reached his target.

"That's right my love" He quickened his pace even faster knocking the air from yours lungs in the process. The thought of someone possibly looking for you had eluded you the moment Heeseung sank inside of you.

"I'm close" You heaved splaying a hand out in front of you on the mirror to better support yourself. "Right there!" You were chanting, your voice high pitched. You had only hoped and prayed that no one was walking past the bathroom at this very moment.

"Right there?" Heeseung cooed slamming his hips into you with one particularly hard thrust.

"Yes, fuck you're deep" Your legs started to tremble from the pleasure struggling to right yourself. Heeseung held you up the support from him more than appreciated because without it you were sure you would crumble to the ground a puddle of yourself.

"I'm going to cum" Heeseung emit's breathily. You pushed your hips back against his in an attempt to further his pleasure. You had a strong inclining it worked when the sound of his breath hitching in his throat was heard from his position behind you.

"Oh fuck, yes. Fuck me back. Just like that" His dirty talk was a catalyst to your orgasm the sound of his deep husky voice moaning in your favor tipping you over the edge of no return. Heeseung followed suit almost immediately after shooting his cum deep inside of you.

Taking a second to catch your breath you cleaned your head against the mirror welcoming the cold of the glass to help cool your heated skin. Heeseung slid out of you with a wince his sensitive cock soft and limp as he tucked it back into his dress pants.

"let me clean you up" Heeseung susurrated. The sex haze fading and the second of guilt that had always passed between you two came and went in a whisper just like it always did. Every time. This time it hit a little harder, the reality of where you were and what was to be happening tomorrow weighing on the both of you like dead weights. Your relationship with Jay wasn't something the two of you discussed often, it was sort of a taboo topic amongst you both. Almost believing that if you don't speak about the horrible thing you two were doing it would make it sudden less harrowing.

Of course that wasn't true and most days the guilt tears you up inside but you endure it, for Heeseung.

Heeseung took a piece of plush toilet paper and cleaned you up carefully like he always did after the two of you finished. He pulled the skirt of your dress down smoothing it out as best as he could as you looked yourself over in the mirror. Your makeup was slightly smudged from the kissing but other than that you had looked perfectly put together.

"Y/n I-" Heeseung's hand snaked around your waist readying himself to turn you around to look at him. He couldn't get the words out before he was being interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. The two of you jumping at the intrusion.

"Y/n?" Yunjin's voice bellowed from outside the door. "The dinner is starting are you ok sweets?"

"Y-yes" You stuttered out "I'll be right out, just nervous. Go save me a seat will you"

"Well of course there is a seat for you! You're the bride" Her cheery voice and the context of her wording had made you cringe. Heeseung as well given that he physical recoiled at the mention of you getting married tomorrow.

"I'll be right out!" You stifled again. You heard Yunjin give you acknowledged confirmation and walk off. The breath you let out was heavy. Looking over at Heeseung who had a detached look on his face, an almost sorrowful look.

"Are you ok?" You asked him, grabbing his face in your hands.

"Uh yeah" He cleared his voice "We should get out there" He ghosted his lips over your forehead breathing in, then setting thee lightest kiss he could to the area.

"You go first, I'll leave a few minutes after you." Heeseung detached himself from you looking at himself in the mirror one more time to check himself over.

You slipped out of the bathroom with ease. Most of the guest were in the dining area of the venue already getting ready for the rehearsal dinner that was to take place. You spotted Yunjin, your best friend and maid of honor sitting next to your other best friend and bridesmaid Belle. The end of the table held two seats. Intended for the bride and groom.

Gulping a big breath of air down you sat down next to Jay who was smiling at you awaiting your arrival.

"Hi" Jay whispered to you as you sat down.

"Hi" You whisper back sending him the hardest smile you could possibly muster. "Sorry, I was in the bathroom."

"Phew" Jay laughed jokingly wiping his forehead "and for a second I thought you fled out the window like a runaway bride" Your eyes widened a blush of embarrassment coating your cheeks. Jay's laugh rang through cutting you right in the gut.

You laughed a long with him not wanting to alarm him. You took his hand in yours squeezing it lightly ass a reassurance to yourself more than it was to him.

Heeseung stumbled into the room looking as proper and poise as he ever did. Your cheeks heated up once again, this time not in embarrassment but in arousal. Squeezing your thighs together to alleviate the want coursing through your veins for the beautiful man that was finally seating himself farther down the table next to a few of the other groomsmen.

You lifted your glass of water to your lips taking a sip to try and calm the ragging fire brewing inside of you, flashes of your earlier actions in the bathroom ceaselessly running rabid in your mind.

"Jenni said that she walked passed the bathroom and heard a women moaning Heeseung's name..sounds like he was getting busy with one of your skank bridesmaids" Yunjin said in a hush voice so that only you, belle and herself could hear it. You chocked on the water you were sipping on eyes widening. Jenni had heard you two? You couldn't have possibly been that loud?

"No way!" Belle squeaked "He's always so closed off.. he never wants to take women home. Trust me I would know, i've tried at least ten times for that man to take me to his bed." Her words had your teeth grating down on each other. That twitch of jealously rearing its ugly head.

It wasn't fair of you to be jealous, you were to be married. But the sheer thought of Belle, or any other woman for that matter in Heeseung's bed had made you sick to your stomach.

"I cant't believe he'd fuck someone here of all places" Yunjin said with a face of disgust. Your eyes wandered over to Heeseung who was in a conversation with Sunghoon. His smile wide as he discussed whatever it was that they were talking about. Your heart pounded in your chest at the mere sight of him happy and laughing away with his friend, for a second just a tiny little split second you imagined what it was like to be getting married to him tomorrow. The sight of you walking down the aisle in your dream dress, your heart racing to the end like it were a finish line and Heeseung was the raining trophy. A true prize to be won.

The sick feeling you felt just a second ago was replaced with butterflies, a burning in your heart that you only felt with him.

Your day dream was abruptly shattered when the sound of a knife on glass was heard around the room. Jay was clinging the wine glass to summon everyone in a toast. Your smile fell for the briefest second before it was forced back. Looking like the cheerful bride you were meant to be.

"I'd love to propose a toast to my beautiful bride-to-be Y/n you've made me the happiest man alive and I can't wait to marry you tomorrow and start my life with you by my side forever." Awe's of adoration rang throughout the room. Everyone taking in your dotting husband-to-be. Your smile was fake, the blush on your face would paint you as an incredible actor.

Your eyes flickered to Heeseung's for only a moment but in that moment you had seen the white sheen of his skin and his look of utter devastation. It had left you confused, and also panicked. You didn't want anyone to see Heeseung's expression and think anything of it.

Jay lifted your chin up with his finger breaking your brief eye contact with Heesseung. He landed a soft kiss to your lips, one you would have swooned over in the early days of your relationship with Jay. The knot in your stomach was wound so tight you felt as if your insides would burst at any moment. Spilling the contents of your affair everywhere.

"I love you" Jay whispered as everyone sat idly by watching what they thought was two people madly in love with one another. If only they knew the storm brewing inside of your head and the gaping hole in your heart the size of Lee Heeseung.

Later that night after the rehearsal dinner you had felt nothing but exhausted ready to get to your hotel room and sleep for the night. Considering what tomorrow was you wanted to get a good nights sleep, it would be a long day after all. Jay was upset that you had to be in different rooms for the night. It was very obvious to you and everyone else what he was intending on doing tonight if you two were to share a room together.

You said goodnight to Jay before beginning your walk to your room that you shared with Yunjin and Belle. When you were close to your room you were just about to open the door before you were being pulled into a maids closet across the hall from your room.

With a muffled screeched you whipped around trying to see who exactly pulled you into this dark fucking space.

"Its me. It's me" You heard Heeseung whisper out grabbing onto your upper arms to settle you.

"Heeseung! You scared the shit out of me!" You whisper yelled at the boy.

"Sorry baby I needed to see you" Heeseung's voice was strained almost like he was holding himself back.

"Are you alright?" You asked him.

"Yeah, yeah I'm ok its just.." He trailed off looking down at the ground almost in embarrassment. "After seeing you and Jay tonight it made me..incredibly territorial."

You arched a brow his way the ghost of a smirk making its way onto your face. 'Yeah?" You cooed toying with the belt loop of his dress pants.

"Wasn't it enough to fuck me right before that?" You were taunting him, riling him in hopes that he would defile you just the way you know he wants to.

"It's never enough" He growled pulling you closer to him by your waist. You were right up against him. His hard won prominent in his pants. It had you breathing heavier by the second, the want for him growing and growing. "I'm addicted to your tight pussy baby" His voice was a low murmur in your ear.

His breath fanning over the shell of your ear sending shivers down your spin. Heeseung grabbed at your asscheek giving it a rough squeeze as he attached his lips to yours with an animistic growl. "Mine" He grunted out. It was incredibly hot to see just how riled up and possessive he was for you. You'd be lying if you said you were absolutely dripping wet right now.

You were still wearing the rehearsal dress you were wearing earlier when he fucked you in the bathroom so grabbing his hand and placing it on your sopping wet underwear was no problem for you at all. "I'm so wet right now" You panted against his mouth as he continued to assault your mouth with his tongue.

"Fuck" He cursed circling his fingers over your covered core. "You are" He nodded at you, he lifted his fingers to his mouth and encasing them whole. He slurred up the juices just from your heat.

"Can I suck you off" You whined already working on getting his pants off and around his ankles.

"Y-yeah" Heeseung stuttered raking his hands through your hair. You dropped to your knees in front of Heeseung pulling his dick out of his pants.

Starting with small little kitten licks to the head Heeseung looked down at you with a dark glint to his orbs. His eyes were full of nothing but unadulterated lust for you. "Don't tease sweetheart..." He whined out yanking your hair just hard enough to show you how serious he was.

Finally deciding to put him out of his misery you attached your mouth to his cock taking him as far as you could bobbing you head up and down at a fast pace that had Heeseung's knees buckling underneath him. The rest that couldn't fit in your mouth you used your hands to please him with working him over like a starving whore.

"Holy-" Heeseung gasped out holding a hand against the wall beside him to stop himself from buckling under the pleasure of your warm, wet mouth. "That's it sweetheart. Can you take me deeper?" His voice was low and gravely a moan slipping out past his labored sentence.

You took his cock deeper in your mouth until you felt the tip hitting the back of your throat, with a gag you released his member to take a quick breath. You attached your mouth to his balls sucking on them as you continued to pump his member in your small hands.

"Fuck" His moans and whines were your driving force to further pleasure him even more.

"Do you want to cum in my mouth Hee?" You asked with a gasp reattaching yourself to his tip awaiting his answer.

"Your- f-fuck" He was struggling to form sentences his gasps and whines taking precedence over structural sense. "Your tits"

You smirked up at him, Tit fucking was a guilty pleasure of Heeseung's any and every chance he got to be wrapped around your tits he took it. If you had a penny for everytime Heeseung ask to cum on your tits you'd be rich. You really should have seen this coming.

You pulled the top of your strapless dress down revealing your perky breast to his hungry and wanting eyes. Heeseung licked his lips reaching his hand out to cup the underside of your boob circling your nipples between his finger and thumb. A low whined escaped your lips at the tweak of his fingers on your sensitive nub.

You took your two breath in your hands and squished them around Heeseung's cock encasing him fully. You started your rigorous movement up and down on him and a continued fast pace. Occasionally you would dip your head to lick the tip that poked out from between your breasts.

"Beautiful" Heeseung moaned "So beautiful baby" His hips stuttered at your movements. You knew he was close based on his labored breathing and the squeeze of his eyes shut. His thrown back against the wall of the closet.

"You close?" You asked shakily, Heeseung nodded his head fast returning his hands to your nipple playing with the nubs once again.

"So close baby" He moaned out "I'm fuck- I'm there" His thighs tensed above you and soon enough his cum was shooting up and all over your exposed cheat painting it white with his spend.

"Fucking hell" Heeseung sighed when you let go of his now soft cock. Giggling you dipped your finger into the cum that still coated your breasts sticking the finger into your mouth as you contained eye contact with the boy.

"God, you're something else" He laughed shaking his head in disbelief of you. Looking around the closet for paper towels to clean you up a comfortable silence fell over the two of you.

"Aren't the guys going to be looking for you?" You asked Heeseung as you wiped your chest clear of Heeseungs cum. You pulled your dress top back over yourself finally covered up once again.

"Nah, They were having a few drinks and I wasn't in the mood to hear Jay gush over you all night like you're his.." He trailed off looking over at you expectantly. You couldn't help but cringe at the suddenly awkward feeling in the room.

"Well..technically I am his Hee" It was a hard pill to swallow. One that Heeseung obviously didn't like the taste off very well.

"what if you weren't?" Heeseung asked grabbing your hands in his. "What if you didn't get married tomorrow" Never has he been so brazen about you leaving Jay. Sure, the two of you had discussed it many times and all times you came to the conclusion that it just wasn't possible.

Your friends and families would hate you and more than that jay himself would hate you. It was a tricky subject one you didn't like breaching often and Heeseung knew this. The fact that he was bringing it up the day before you were meant to get married was a little bit inconvenient.

You wanted nothing more then to be with Heeseung. You wanted a full and happy life with him, but in all honesty you didn't deserve it.

"He'll hate us Heeseung.." You murmured not looking him in the eye. You feared that if you did look him in the eye that it would be all the convincing that you needed, but you had to think realistically and it just wasn't an option for you.

"Every time I look at you I find it harder and harder to care if he would hate us. I find it harder and harder to find excuses as to why we can't be together. Every kiss, every touch, every time I'm inside of you I'm that much closer to shouting to the rooftops to everyone who will hear me about how much I love you Y/n." No one said being in love would be easy but you didn't know it would be this fucking hard either.

The words Heeseung was saying to you had made your heart stutter and your pulse quicken. Your resolve was crumbling and fast.

"I don't know.. She hasn't answered her phone and I've been calling her for like an hour." You heard a muffled voice right outside the door of the maids closet stopping all traces of the earlier conversation. It was Yunjin right outside your hotel door that was narrowly across from the maids closest you and Heeseung currently occupied.

"You don't think she got cold feet and ran do you?" Belle's voice was heard next shakily asking Yunjin the question no bridesmaid or maid of honor wanted to say on the day before a wedding.

"No, no Y/n would never do that." Yunjin said "She's probably just with Jay sneaking off somewhere, we'll give her until midnight before we call Jay and ask"

"So..in ten minutes?" Belle asked. You looked at Heeseung quickly your eyes wide as panic slightly set in. You needed them to go into the room or somewhere else so you could slip out of this god forsaken closet.

"Yes" Yunjin voice got a bit distanced and the sound of a door closing ceased all voices from the hallway. They had went into the room like you had hoped and now you had to make a dash for it if you didn't want to be caught sneaking out of the closet with Heeseung on your toes.

"I-i have to go" You rushed out to Heeseung giving his hands one last squeeze before you quietly opened the door to closet leaving him alone. He reached out to you but quickly slammed his hand back down. Letting you leave without another word.

You could do this, you could do this, you could do this. It's what you kept telling yourself over and over as the day slowly but surely progressed. Hair and makeup flawless, head piece neatly connected to your veil and dress as snug as ever over your body. You looked...exquisite. You looked more beautiful than you ever felt like you had before. But truthfully you had felt less than stellar. There was a heavy weight that sat in the bottom of your stomach the feeling making you sick all over.

You were getting married today, but you were marrying a man you didn't love. A man you haven't loved in a long time. It was tearing you from limb to limb, he had deserved so much better than you. So, so much better. You were a true harlet and nothing you did after this moment would change that fact.

You had spent so much of your relationship with Jay tangled up with another man, falling in love with another man. Even worse so that man was his best friend, a friend he had for years and years. You were that driving wedge between them. You were a horrible, disgusting person and it had taken you in a beautiful white dress getting dotted on to truly notice it.

"You ready sweets?" Yunjin asked you from behind you. Hands on your shoulders as she beamed lightly at you through the mirror.

"Yeah" You whispered averting your eyes away from the mirror and away from the prying eyes of your best friend. She looked happy and that had made you feel more poorly than you'd care to admit.

"Well it's time.." She squeezed your shoulders gingerly then turned around to gather the rest of the bridal party readying them to get into their positions next to their respective groomsmen.

You took a deep breath finally looking yourself win the mirror one last time before getting up to join your wedding party. You caught Heeseung's eye across the hall standing next to Yunjin as she talked everyone's ear off about the order and what to when they reached the end of the aisle.

Heeseung's stare was intense, it was a look you had never seen from him before. Like a mix of awe and sorrow. He clenched his hands by his sides flexing open then closed in what you could only assume was nervousness. He didn't say a single word but he didn't need to. You knew exactly what he wanted to say and you weren't quite sure if it hurt you or healed you. Hurt because this was it; you were marrying another man. Or healed because again, this was it and you were marrying another man and sooner rather than later this would have to end.

You hadn't accepted that fact yet and the realization hit you like a freight train going a hundred miles an hour. You didn't know if you were losing Heeseung tonight or if you were loosing yourself, It had felt like both.

The wedding music you had picked out started playing over the loud speaker signally the start of your forever.

Taking one finally deep breath you started you decent down the aisle. Jay stood at the end a smile on his face that had only made your heart crack wide open. You had to remind yourself to smile you didn't want to look how you felt and truthfully you were terrified. You were so terrified that you were making the biggest mistake of your life right now marrying a man you weren't in love with.

Once again your eyes flickered to Heeseung's for a split second. His gaze still on yours as if it had never left. It was still intense, still raw and still so full of emotion that it left your head spinning on its axis.

Once you reached the end of the aisle your hands found Jay's awaiting ones. You sent him the warmest smile you could muster as he whispered "You look very beautiful" to you. It furthered the sinking feeling in your stomach.

The officiant started his spiel not even a second later, your mind wandering to unforeseen places as he drowned on and on about love and bringing to people together in holy matrimony but you could not focus on a single word he was saying. Trying to calm the pounding off your heart as what seemed like a million eyes watched you. Could they tell you were falling apart at the seems? Could they seem the storm brewing in your head. Surely they couldn't pin point the dreadful look on your face, it was just nerves to them. You were just another nervous bride to them.

Finally the officiant declared to everyone in the room to speak now if they'd like to object or forever hold their peace. The room was eerily quiet the clock in your mind ticking and you found it screaming at you something you had never thought before. Heeseung say something! Say something please. The thought startled you but it came straight from your heart like a high jacker taking over your mind body and soul your heart was for once at the forefront of your being, finally In charge making the decisions for once.

Heeseung please..-

"Don't marry him."

You could hear a pin drop. The silence that followed was deafening. No one had believed it. You froze in your place your eyes shooting to Jay to watch his rigid body as he stared down...at Heeseung a mixture of confusion and rage written all over his face.

"What-" You cracked the silence.

"Don't marry him Y/n" He said again stepping down from the higher up podium the wedding party were on.

"Heeseung what the hell are you doing?" Sunghoon whispered yelled to him. Everyone watched in horror as Heeseung ignored him looking at you and only you.

"I can't stand here for more second and act like this isn't tearing me apart. Mind, body and soul. I'm not great with words Y/n. You know that but I think it's a rather simply thing to say anyway. I love you" Gasped were heard from around the room Jay's eyes wide as he stood unmoving watching the scene unfold in front of him.

"I love you so much that I'm willing to be the villain in every single persons story here, including yours. If that's what it takes for you to take my hand and run out of here with me." Heeseung held his hand out to you as you took a shuttering breath.

Reaching your hand forward to take it was all you intended to do, but before you could connect your hand with his Heeseung was sent flying back onto the ground Jay on top of him in a blur before you could even register what was going on.

"jay!" You shrieked out as the two boys tumbled over eachother throwing blow after blow. Sunghoon sprang into action yanking Jay off of Heeseung with as much strength as he could.

"You fucking bastard!" Jay bellowed pointing his finger in his direction.

"Y/n. What the hell is happening." Yunjin said from next to your her eyebrows scrunched up in confusion looking between Heeseung who was on the floor wiping his now bleeding lip and Jay who was being held back by Sunghoon.

"I'm sorry ok-"

"Fuck you! You just told my wife you love her and-and oh god" Jay turned to you his face red, tears sliding down his cheeks in a cascade. "You- you were going to take his hand"

"jay I-" You started with a stutter trying to gain your bearings but truthfully you didn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry" You cried tears now falling down your cheeks too. "I didn't mean to hurt you but I-i lo-" He cut you off again, a furry in his eyes you had never seen before.

"Don't." He ran a hand through his hair puling at the ends. "Don't say you love him."

"But I do" You whispered defeated. "I love him Jay."

Heeseung those from the floor still wiping his bleeding mouth with the sleeve of his jacket. Not like he'd need it now anyway.

"How long?" Yunjin said from the corner looking at you. "How long have you been lying to everyone Y/n"

You looked to the floor with shame "Over a year"

"I can't believe this." Jay muttered "You've been sneaking behind my back for over a year?" You nodded, the tears still free flowing.

Jay shook his head again, turning to walk away his back turned to you and Heeseung he muttered "I'll never forgive you two. Never."

Your heart cracked in two at the sight of his shoulders slumped in defeat. Of the sight of the disgust from almost everyone in the room as they watched the scene unfold in front of them.

Yunjin picked up the hem of her dress making her way towards the direction Jay went. "Yun please" You called out in a whisper.

"No, Y/n." She seethed. "You ruined everything. I hope you're happy." The room quickly emptied itself everyone fleeing for the monstrous mess that was supposed to be your wedding leaving only you and Heeseung left to deal with the aftermath.

"I don't regret that." Heeseung spoke softly, being the first one to finally break the harrowing silence.

"I want to be with you" He took your hand in his cradling your face with his other palm. "No matter what Y/n I want to be with you."

"I do too." You said a single tear falling from your eyes.

"Lets runaway" He said, your eyes widening in shook at his brazen proposal.

"Marry me. and let's runaway." He titled your head towards his. His eyes completely attached to yours with an intense gaze you could describe as desperation.

"Ok" You said a small smile making its way on your lips "Ok I'll marry you" Heeseung picked you up in a blur spinning you around in his arms.

"Heeseung!" You giggled out as he placed you back on the ground grabbing your head in his hands, cupping your cheeks and attaching his lips to yours in the most vehement kiss you had ever had.

"Let's get out of here."

You didn't know where you'd go and what the future held for you. You didn't know if the people in your life would ever forgive you again, or if they'd even care that you'd left but all you knew was that your future was Heeseung and with that it couldn't be anything less then extraordinary.

(★) @izzyy-stuff , @beomiracles , @dawngyu , @hyukascampfire , @saejinniestar , @notevenheretbh1 , @hwanghyunjinismybae, @ch4c0nnenh4, @kristynaaah , @simj4k3 , @sangiewife , @hyunj00 , @firstclassjaylee , @teddybeartaetae , @i-am-not-dal , @xylatox , @desistay

[notarmedandnotdangerous]

+18 mdni! bucky refuses to say reader's name, and reader tries to get him to say it. unfortunately bucky switches the dynamics between him and reader, and reader ends up unsuccessful.. for now.

cw: sub!->dom!bucky, dom!->sub!m!reader, oral sex, handjobs (multiple), overstimulation

word count: >2.3k

a/n: maybe there'll be a part 2 ... you never know .. 😝 if you guys have suggestions, please do not hesitate to flood my inbox!!!!!!

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

you’ve recently saved bucky from a few sticky situations, and he slowly warmed up to you more. you’ve asked him to call you by your name multiple times, but he would rather die than say your name, and it confused you.

“you.. can say my name, you know that right?” the both of you just got home from another mission, you talked to him but he avoided your gaze and put his boots away in response. “or do you want a more forceful way? it’s like you need me to fuck it out of you or something.” you said absentmindedly, not knowing the effect you had on him.

“i don’t need you to lay it out for me, alright? like you do with everything else.” he shifted, eyes darting around the room before landing back on you with a glare. he sighed, running a hand through his unkempt hair as he leaned against the doorway. “let’s just.. forget you said that, okay?” his voice was a husky whisper, as he cleared his throat to regain control over the situation.

“i heard your breath hitch, by the way. hope you know that.” you turned away, walking to sit on the couch as you turned on the tv to watch the news, as usual. your casual remark sent a shiver down his spine, his heart hammered in his chest as he remained silent, unwilling to give you the satisfaction of an admission. he felt a familiar heat growing in his lower stomach, his cock starting to stir in his jeans, but he played it cool as he tried to will it away. you could hear every single hitch of his breath, but you stated quiet.

“fuck.” bucky gritted out, his voice strained as he felt his resolve crumble. “just.. just turn around.”

“that’s a start, well done. didn’t expect you to actually admit it.” you shrugged, not wanting to turn around just yet. you wanted to break his nonchalant facade, to make him ask for what he wanted. he couldn’t meet your gaze anymore, his eyes stung as he fought to regain his composure.

“what’s it to you?” he murmured, in an attempt to deflect the situation. “just.. do whatever you want.” the words spilled out before he could properly consider them. at this point, whatever he was doing was pointless, you’ve already seen through his act.

“yeah? and you’d let me?” you walked over to bucky and reached for his waist, wrapping your arm around his and bringing him to the couch. his entire body tensed as your arm wrapped around him. “wanna consider calling me by my name now, handsome?” he turned his head away and avoided the question. “guess i’ll really have to fuck it out of you.” you pulled him into your lap, making him gasp slightly. his hardened cock pressed against you, making you smirk teasingly.

“jeez..” he hissed, trying to squirm free but you just made him so weak. “you can’t just.. fuck me into submission like some puppet on a string.” his words came out breathless, almost pleading, despite him trying desperately to maintain a tough front. “it’s not that simple.” even as he protested, his hips shifted instinctively against you.

“we’ll see about that.” you let go of his hips, making him turn back to you immediately.

“what are you waiting for? weren’t you gonna ‘teach me a lesson’?” he asked softly, the tone of his voice betraying his current persona. the release of your grip threw him off balance, his eyes remained lowered, avoiding your gaze at all costs. “just.. do it already.”

“hm.” you grabbed his neck, leaning him forward, and tucking his head into the crook of your neck. the motion sent a shiver down his spine as embarrassment filled his system, his cheeks burnt with a flush that spread all the way down his neck.

“f-fuck..” bucky stammered, his voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. he squirmed slightly, not used to being so physically close to someone. you smiled, pulling his head back to kiss him gently. his eyes flew open in shock, before fluttering shut again as he visibly relaxed. he clutched at your shoulders, his mechanical arm whirring at the motion. when you finally broke the kiss, he gasped, his voice hoarse with desire as he gazed at you through heavy-lidded eyes.

“room, now.” he tried to get up from your lap, stumbling as his legs were weak from your relentless teasing. when the both of you finally got to your shared bedroom, he laid back on his elbows as he gazed up at you. you pressed your knee to his crotch, making him hiss out, his hands gripping at the sheets. “want my cock on your tongue, buck? maybe you’ll finally learn to say my name after this?”

“mmph.. yeah.. want it.” his words were barely a whisper as his mind glazed over with arousal. “please.. i’ll give you anything you want..”

“anything? even saying my name?” bucky avoided your gaze once more. perhaps he thought that he wasn’t worthy enough to have your name roll off his tongue. you whipped your cock out, tapping the tip on his lips, and his eyes almost rolled back at the feeling of it. “oh, you’re dumb already? i haven’t even done anything to you yet.”

“n-nothing to do with my smarts.. believe me.” he breathed out in a needy whisper, his tongue flicking out to lap at the glistening tip, savouring the salty taste of your pre-cum. “this handsome cock can dumb me up any day..” and with that, he wrapped his lips around your tip, sucking gently as he began to bob his head. he slowly took more and more of your cock in his mouth.

“holy fuck.. that mouth of yours.. you’re fucking filthy. had a lot of experience in sucking cock, haven’t you?” you grabbed his hair and slowly fucked into his mouth. you ended up fucking his mouth rougher though, making him drool all over as he hummed dumbly. saliva dripped freely from the corners of his lips, pooling on his chin before dripping onto, and staining his black t-shirt.

“mmph..” he mumbled, his voice muffled around your cock as his eyes rolled back. after a few more thrusts, you came in his mouth. your knees buckled as you slowly fucked his mouth to ride out your high, only stopping when you were on the verge of overstimulation. even though he swallowed as best as he could, some of your cum had already trickled down his chin. “tasted so good..” his words were slurred.

“mm.. fuck.” you pulled away, just to see bucky absolutely wrecked. his hair was a mess while tears and drool covered his face. you moved to sit back against the bed frame. just as you sat down, he took your cock in his hands to jerk you off, catching you off guard. “b-buck, stop that.” you tried to grab his wrist, but he sat himself on your stomach, weighing you down. “n-no, fuck..”

“hey, no backing out now..” he spoke, his hands wrapping around your still-soft cock, as he started to stroke you in a slow rhythm. “after all, i really.. really wanna see your face once more, when you cum.”

“w-wait.. can’t. slow down..” you grabbed at his wrist, helplessly kicking your feet against the mattress.

“oh.. i think you’re enjoying this though, don’t pretend like you aren’t.” he smirked down at you, making your breath hitch. you were sure he wasn’t this hot before. “but don’t worry, i’ll make sure to put that pride of yours back in its rightful place.. once you’re done giving me exactly what i want.” he murmured, before he leaned in and dragged his tongue against your neck. “relax, let me help you with this, hm?”

“i.. mm..” you gave up the moment his tongue was on your neck, how did he know it was your weak spot? you let your head drop to the mattress as you had no choice but to take what he was going to give you.

“much better.” bucky chuckled, tracing your cock in a way that made it twitch. “let’s finish what you started, shall we?” he leaned in, teasingly planting a kiss on the tip, before he dragged his tongue down your cock. .

“oh- oh, buck..” your thighs tensed in an effort to process the pleasure, as you reached for his hands. too bad he was sitting with his back facing you, and he was sitting on your stomach too, it was impossible to stop him now

“shh.. just relax. when i’m done with you, you’ll be pleased with everything that i’ll give you.” with a shit-eating grin, he focused on the underside of your cock, tracing swirles of pre-cum around the veins. normally, you’d have the strength to manhandle him, to throw him off of you, but with his hands on your cock, it was hard to even think, let alone have the strength to rip this man off you.

“w-wait.. stop please.. too much, b-buck.” you gripped bucky’s hips tightly, trying to push him off of you. you were wrecked, and it was all his fault.

“but it’s nowhere near enough just yet..” he muttered against your skin, he unbuttoned your shirt, letting his fingers trace around your nipples. “no.. no. i’m just getting started.” with that, he changed his pace, moving in long and slightly slower strokes now.

“oh fuck, fucking hell, buck.. uuh..” you let out a shaky whimper as you came again, and guess what? bucky turned around just to see your face when you came, your body going limp underneath him as your cock softened. “o-okay.. that’s.. need a break.”

“aw, is that all the fight you’ve got in you?” he had turned back around, and he nipped on the skin on your shoulder playfully.

“you.. fuck, ugh..” you let out a sigh, not used to cumming multiple times at once.

“shh it’s alright, i’ve got you.” he rubbed your cheek lovingly. “but next time, i expect you to put up more of a fight. resist at least a little, hm?”

“wait no.. i want more.. just.. i was supposed to be on top..” you were cut off with a nip to your earlobe.

“ah, but that’s where you’re wrong.” bucky teased, tracing a finger down your torso. “but i kinda do want to see what you’re like.” he let you flip your positions, now that you were strong enough to manhandle him.

“that’s more like it.”

[fawniswriting]

Before I Could Say It

This fic can be read as a standalone or as a prequel to After I Was Too Late.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Synopsis: The three times Bucky almost confessed his love to you, and the one time he finally does.

Word Count: 5.9k

Warning(s): can be read as gn!reader bcs I didn't use any gender-specific words (pls advise me if this isn't true). canon divergence. no use of Y/N. use of the nicknames sugar and sweetheart. insecure thoughts. bucky feeling like he's not good enough. unrequited love (or is it?). alcohol consumption. a bit hurt/comfort. profanities. use of weaponry, including but not limited to guns and knives. depictions of violence, blood, injuries, and murder. (near) death experience. angst. fluff. open ending.

Author's Note: Hii guys. I know I should be focusing all of my energy on Faithfully Yours right now, but I had the idea for this story and just couldn't pass it up!! We have a bit of an open ending here. I wasn't planning on making a part two but I'll see what the general consensus say and will decide whether or not a part two is due from the responses. anywayy hope you enjoy this one xx don't forget to comment, like, and reblog!!

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

When Bucky tried to think about the beginning, his mind always drew a blank.

It had been five years since the first time destiny orchestrated your paths to cross, six if one were to count the one-year cryogenic sleep that Bucky spent in Wakanda. The Soldat met you first, back when you, Steve, Sam, and Nat fought him on that highway shoot-out that revealed his identity. After that, you were everywhere—in Bucharest with Steve to coax him out of hiding, on the tarmac battle where you went against half of your own family for his sake, and even in Wakanda, where your eyes became one of the last pairs he saw before his body succumbed to the unforgiving clutches of darkness.

And when he was finally woken up, you were there, too, waiting for him.

Since then, Bucky struggled to remember a time when you weren't there. You supervised his deprogramming in Wakanda, becoming Steve's eyes and ears while the Captain roamed the world as both a fugitive and a vigilante. When the Sokovia Accords turned void, and the scientists in Wakanda assured Bucky that his mind wasn't going to betray his heart anymore, you took him back to New York, offering solace in the form of your warmth pressing against his side on the plane ride to the States. 

Even once the two of you landed on the compound's grounds, you never strayed too far—standing between Bucky and a begrudging Tony as if you were ready to launch yourself forward should the billionaire try to do anything untoward. As if the ruthless Winter Soldier needed a human shield to prevent him from shattering into fragile little pieces.

Before Bucky knew it, his entire routine—his entire life—became you.

From your morning spar sessions in the gym, the long walks around Brooklyn in the afternoon, to the weekly movie nights that you roped him into in the name of reacquainting him with pop culture—everything in Bucky’s life started to shape and smell like you. 

It was a constant. 

You were Bucky’s new constant.

And somewhere along the way, Bucky’s little troublemaker of a heart decided, once and for all, to anchor itself to yours.

True to his fashion, Steve was the first person to notice. All of the lingering touches and longing glances, the hard-etched lines of Bucky’s countenance that seemed to soften every time you were near—they spoke of an affection beyond a mere loyalty one might harbor for their teammate. It spoke of love, one that was so unadulteratedly pure and raw that Steve was sure there was no room left in the crevices of Bucky’s heart where a piece of you didn’t reside in.

“You’ve gotta say something, Buck,” Steve said to Bucky one evening.

The two of them were standing in the convention hall of a lavish hotel deep in the heart of Manhattan, surrounded by a guestlist of people that Bucky was assured were some of the most influential figures of the twenty-first century. People tried to swarm him since the moment he entered the party, shoving business cards to his face and dropping names that Bucky knew should have meant something to him. He paid none of them any mind—not when his eyes immediately found you in that sea of ties and ball gowns, just like a moth enticed to a flame.

You were all dolled up for the night, wearing a fancy little number that screams you if only with a little bit of additional sparkles sprinkled on top. Bucky watched you move through the ocean of people, confidence oozing out of every step, a blinding smile as you received each handshake with an indisputable poise. Bucky’s head whipped towards your direction at every echo of laughter, searching for the source, drinking in your infectious glee as if it were the only way to sustain the rhythmic beating of his heart.

Bucky shifted in his feet, Steve’s unprompted advice forcing him to tear his eyes away from where you were standing by Natasha’s side. The blond beside him smiled knowingly, a teasing yet sincere tilt in his voice as he added, “You’ve gotta tell at some point, pal. Better sooner rather than later.”

The line in Bucky’s jaw ticked. He brought the glass of champagne to his lips, tipping the drink back as though the liquid stood a chance against his enhanced metabolism. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Buck.”

“Punk.”

The Captain sighed, reaching for a drink of his own. “At least ask for a dance, will you?”

Before Bucky could register what was happening, Steve had shoved Bucky forward, sending him stumbling forth towards the direction of your canorous laughter. Steve hid his amused smile behind his drink when Bucky flipped him the finger, the latter continuing his steps on wobbly feet, trying to ignore the pounding travelling up his bloodstreams.

“Hey, Bucky,” you greeted as soon as he had reached you. The smile on your face could rival the sun even on its brightest day, and Bucky prayed to every divine being in the universe that he could be on the receiving end of that smile for the rest of his days.

“Barnes.” Natasha nodded. 

“Hey, guys. What’s up?” Bucky attempted a smile, tugging at the ridiculous material of his bow tie that Tony had insisted him to wear. In fact, Tony was the one who forced Bucky to attend this whole shindig in the first place—something about showing a united front to prove to the public that there was no bad blood within the Avengers’ team. 

It was a shit ton of bullshit, in Bucky’s opinion.

But at least, the party gave him a chance to see you all dressed up to the nines.

“Nothing much.” You shrugged, tilting your head slightly to the side. “Did you need something?”

“No. I mean, I do. I was, um, wondering—” Bucky cleared his throat, “—I actually wanted to see if you’d care to join me for a dance?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Bucky saw Natasha’s eyes widen slightly. The redhead immediately scurried to the side, feigning interest in the tower of chocolate fondue just a couple of feet away.

Bucky’s heart nearly leaped out of his chest when you extended your palm towards him. “I would love to, Buck. Lead the way.”

Your fingers emitted warmth inside his hand, and for a moment, Bucky faltered. He kept his composure enough to guide you through the sea of couples on the dancefloor, willing the erratic thumping in his chest to quieten down as he pulled you flush against his body. The scent of your perfume slithered through the air, filling Bucky’s lungs, attacking each part of his senses until everything Bucky saw, heard, smelled, and felt was you.

“You look beautiful tonight, Sugar.”

The admission tumbled from his lips before Bucky had a chance to stop them, before he could thoroughly process the implications of such candor. You didn’t seem to mind, though. Instead, your persistent smile widened ever so slightly, your eyes twinkling under the glimmering lights of the chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

“Why, you look plenty dashing yourself, Bucky.” You hummed appreciatively, raking your eyes up and down Bucky’s suit-clad figure. “I must say, I was sad to see your long hair gone, but this looks great as well.”

Your fingers skimmed the hard contour of Bucky’s shoulder, leaving goosebumps on their wake, before sneaking through the short tendrils on the nape of his neck. He fought off a groan at the contact, the heavenly feeling of your fingers tugging at his hair sending shivers all throughout his body. Meanwhile, you were still smiling up at him all sweetly, completely oblivious to the rush of heat that you delivered through Bucky’s entire being.

“Sugar,” the nickname fell off Bucky’s lips in a low grunt, and for the first time that night, your composure staggered. 

Your breath hitched around a squeak when Bucky managed to tug you closer, circling his arms around your waist until there was barely room for air between both of your bodies. All around you, the world ceased to exist. The only thing that remained were your bated breaths, a raucous disruption through the electric field buzzing between where you and Bucky were pressed against one another. 

“I need to tell you something,” Bucky revealed, his voice low and sheer, stripped by unease and something akin to fear. 

Your forehead furrowed, undoubtedly sensing the trepidation shining out of the blue of Bucky’s eyes. “What’s the matter, Buck?”

Your palm landed on his stubbled cheek, and Bucky had to fight the urge to lean in, to chase more of your warmth like you were an oasis in the middle of his desert of a life. He grappled for the confession to come, for the feelings in his chest to solidify into something comprehensible. All Bucky had to do was open his mouth and seize the moment.

But just as quickly as it had arrived, the moment splintered through his fingertips.

“Good evening, everyone!”

Bucky's whole body jerked in surprise, his accusatory eyes instantly finding the MC standing on the stage at the front of the room. The music had stopped, replaced by the MC's welcoming remarks addressed towards a dozen supposedly prominent names that Bucky couldn't care less about.

“Hey, let's go find a seat,” you suggested, circling your tender fingers around Bucky's wrist before leading him through the maze of tables.

The two of you sat down just in time for Tony to deliver his opening speech as a representative of the Avengers. You glanced at Bucky in the middle of Tony's heartfelt sentiment about “shaping the future”, your hand finding Bucky's flesh one on his thigh, unaware of the kind of turmoil you have summoned from a single touch.

“You okay, Bucky?” you asked, squeezing his hand. “What was it that you wanted to tell me?”

I wanted to tell you that I love you, Bucky's heart echoed. I don't know when it started, and I don't know how, all I know is that you're every good thing that I have going on in my life.

Bucky's throat tightened.

He never ended up saying the words out loud. Instead, he smiled thinly. “It's not important, sweetheart. I'll tell you later.”

You assessed him curiously before offering him a small smile and directing your attention back towards the stage. Bucky sighed in the aftermath, feeling the wild beating of his heart settled to a normal one.

And just like that, the truth died on the tip of his tongue.

Weeks passed, and between countless briefings, missions, and reports, Bucky was forced to push all matters concerning his heart to the side. It wasn't easy, not when you occupied every facet of Bucky's otherwise monotone life. Every waking moment was a painful reminder that you were always within reach, but never close enough for him to have.

Following a successful infiltration into an illegal bio-weapon factory in the outskirts of Poland, the team had landed their jet on one of the safehouse grounds somewhere near the border of Poland and Germany. Natasha and Clint disappeared inside the house immediately upon landing, while Sam and Steve stayed on the quinjet to go over a few intels they had managed to gather from the factory.

Bucky's boots scraped softly against the grass as he crossed the distance towards the small lake just a few yards left to the safehouse. The surrounding trees rustled in the wind, a symphony of reds and oranges beneath the solemn autumn sky. On the shore of the lake, Bucky found you sitting, a rare serene look on your face as you closed your eyes to welcome the impending breeze.

“Hi, Bucky,” you greeted, eyes still shut tightly.

“How'd you know it was me, Sugar?”

“I always know when it's you.”

The moment your eyes opened, Bucky's heart stuttered in its cage. The smile you rewarded him was soft, embellished with a tenderness that a man of his repute would never deserve. He knew he should have looked away, but the selfish part of him wanted to hold your stare in place, to relish in your kindness no matter how much he believed he wasn't worthy of it.

“Come on, sit with me.”

You patted the ground next to you, and Bucky obeyed without further questions. He lowered himself on the grass, damp from the lingering chill of autumn air, and stretched his legs out. For a while, neither of you spoke, opting to enjoy the sound of water lapping lazily against the shore, a stark tranquility to the horrors you faced during the mission earlier.

The sky dimmed a tad darker as the sun ducked behind the cover of trees, leaving behind streaks of purple and gold on the horizon. Beside him, you heaved out a sigh, the remnants of sun casting your skin in an ethereal glow.

“Sometimes I wish moments like this could last forever,” you murmured.

Bucky's eyes slid towards you, studying the contours of your face like a historian would an ancient scripture. His fingers twitched, itching to feel every soft and hard edge of your features under the brush of his touch. 

You're the only thing in this world I want forever with.

The words resonated in his head and all the way down to his chest, settling like stone sinking underwater, slow and heavy. He almost said it out loud—nearly laid his heart bare for you to judge and scrutinize. But at last, he fabricated a grin and nudged his shoulder playfully to yours.

“You always get sentimental when you're tired,” he joked.

You laughed heartily at his jab, a melodic thing that wrested at every coil of Bucky's heartstrings. The two of you proceeded to watch the sunset together, the silence stretching between you, warm and comfortable. The sky burned in more explosions of hues, casting its reflection upon the lake like a dream neither of you dared to disturb. 

If Bucky were a braver man, a better man—one that wasn't weighed down by his history and remorse—maybe he would have told you. Maybe, in another life, Bucky would have charmed you at first sight, claiming you as his before the day could even end. But for now, Bucky was glad to settle for this—for sharing a quiet moment with you, and to bask in your company as though he were worthy of even a fraction of your attention.

For now, Bucky would let the four-letter word wither inside him, locked in a hidden fissure somewhere within his chest, keeping it safe from ever seeing any light of day.

Days flew by, and it was getting increasingly harder for Bucky to ignore the way his heart gravitated towards yours, to ignore the fact that you were always the first person he searched for in the morning and the last one he wanted to talk to before falling asleep. To pretend like the mere mention of your name didn't send a jolt that revived his entire being. Every single day was a battle between wish and logic—the unruly desire to make you his, and the rational reluctance of dragging you into the mess that was his life.

“This is getting ridiculous, Buck,” Steve said as he leaned back against the bar right next to Bucky, following the latter's eyesight to find you standing at the end of it. “You're just gonna avoid it forever? An eternal silent treatment? The two of you need to talk, whether you like it or not.”

Bucky inhaled a long breath, swirling the Asgardian mead in his glass without ever taking his eyes off you. It was your birthday—a joyous occasion that called for this merry yet intimate celebration with the entire team. The common room of the compound had been transformed into something warm and inviting, lit by the soft glow of string lights draped along the walls. A cake sat on the counter, half-eaten, its candles long blown out, but the remnants of your laughter from when you made your wish still lingered in the air.

From across the room, Bucky watched as Sam teased you about getting older, earning the bird-man a playful swat on his arm. Wanda handed you a small, neatly wrapped gift, and your eyes lit up in a way that made Bucky’s chest ache. He didn’t know what was in the box. He didn’t really care. All he knew was that he wanted to be the reason behind that breathtaking smile of yours.

And then, your eyes lifted.

The eye contact was fleeting. Brief. Gone by the time Bucky realized what was happening and forced his gaze away. Even then, Bucky still caught the hint of surprise as your eyes found his, replaced almost immediately by a longing that Bucky understood all too well. It clutched onto his heart, sinking its sharp nails until the life organ in his chest was bruised and brutally torn apart.

The Captain sighed. “You're being an idiot, pal.”

Bucky knew Steve was right—he was being an idiot. A coward, even. It was his own damn foolishness that had kept him avoiding you for weeks, skipping your morning spars, slipping out of any room you occupied before you could even notice his presence. All because he couldn’t handle the feelings that had taken root in his chest, the one that was growing stronger by the minute, infiltrating deeper into his system every time you so much as looked his way.

The party was still in full swing by the time Bucky decided to retire for the night, forgoing the goodbyes, heading straight to the elevator that took him back to his quarters. It was a few hours later when a clumsy knock sounded against his door, breaking through the quiet that had settled in his room.

“Sugar?”

Bucky's hand clenched around the door handle, his eyebrows knitting together at the sight of you in front of his bedroom.

“Hi, Buckyyy,” you greeted, your words slurring into uncontrollable giggles.

 Understanding dawned on Bucky's shoulders. “Sweetheart, are you drunk?”

“Am not!” You huffed, pushing past a stunned Bucky to enter the bedroom. 

You looked around for a moment, humming to yourself every time you came across a familiar token that decorated Bucky's room. There was a photo of you and him on the nightsand, a sketch of the Brooklyn Bridge courtesy of Steve hanging on the wall, and a few vinyl records stacked neatly on the shelf, gifted by various members of the team. At last, your steps halted beside the bed, and without a warning, you dove head first into the mattress, chuckling to yourself as you attempted to make snow angels with his blankets.

“This is sooo niceee,” you mused, burying youself deeper into one of Bucky's pillows. “Smells like you, Buck.”

The super soldier tried not to dwell too much on the sight of you lying on his bed, looking like you had always belonged in the same place that Bucky took his rest. A shiver ran down Bucky's spine as he closed the door behind him, his feet quiet against the carpeted floor before he took a tentative seat on the edge of the bed.

“Sugar?” Bucky took your shoulders in his grasp, turning you around until his eyes locked with yours. His heart staggered. “You wanna get back to your room? I could take you.”

His offer made you sit up in seconds, so fast that Bucky feared you might have given yourself a whiplash. He stared at you as your lips trembled, your whole body turning away from him until you were just a breadth out of his reach.

His fingers contracted in grief.

“Hey, Sugar? What's—”

“Why do you hate me?”

Silence.

Bucky's forehead creased in confusion.

“Hate you?” Bucky tasted the accusation on his tongue—the word being so foreign and farfetched from anything he could associate with you that Bucky had to wonder if he had misheard what you spoke. “Sweetheart, I don't hate you.”

“Liar.” You scoffed, scooting towards the foot of the bed, seemingly adamant to draw as much distance as possible between Bucky and yourself. “You have been avoiding me for weeks. You don't want to talk to me, or do anything with me. You hate me.”

Bucky blinked, stunned into momentary silence before shaking his head as if trying to rid himself of the sheer absurdity of your words. “That’s not true,” he murmured, his voice rough with something that sounded dangerously close to regret.

You laughed at his response—a wry, sarcastic laugh that was void of even the smallest hint of your usual warmth. “Then what other possible reason could you have for avoiding me, Bucky? Hm?” Your head turned towards him, and for the first time that night, Bucky finally saw the telltale sign of tears in your eyes, a glassy sheen that erased any remnant of the wits that Bucky had grown to know and love.

His stomach churned.

Guilt was eating at him alive. He couldn't believe that his stupidity had caused this—that he had hurt you due to his own incapability of controlling his emotions. Bucky didn't know what he was thinking when he decided that the best course of action would be to completely evade you, but he certainly didn't think that it would result in this.

With you, sitting on his bed, crying your eyes out while simultaneously breaking Bucky's heart in the process.

Bucky exhaled sharply, as if the weight of his own remorse was pressing down on his chest. He couldn't stand it—the way your shoulders quivered, the way you tried so desperately to keep your composure together as tears welled in your eyes.

"Sweetheart," he rasped, reaching for you, his fingers hesitant at first before firming in resolve. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.”

You stiffened at his touch, your lips parting as if to protest, but Bucky was already pulling you into his embrace, holding you tightly against the muscular panes of his chest. His hands skimmed soothingly along your back, whispers of sweet nothings falling from his lips as he rocked you in the safety of his arms.

“I don't hate you, Sugar,” he murmured, voice shattering around the edges. “I've never hated you. How could I?”

How could I hate you when you are the only source of light I have remaining in this world? How could I hate you when loving you is the only thing about my life that I am absolutely certain of?

Your breath hitched against his shoulder, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “Bucky—”

“Shh,” he soothed, pressing his lips to your temple in a featherlight touch. “Just let me hold you, okay?”

Slowly, he guided the both of you down onto his bed, his arms never loosening from where they were wrapped around your body. His heartbeat thumped steadily beneath your cheek, his fingers drawing lazy patterns against your back. The tension in your body melted bit by bit with each gentle word, the rise and fall of his chest lulling you into something softer—something safe.

“Don't ever do that to me again,” you warned shakily. “Promise me.”

Bucky's hold around you tightened. “I promise.”

“Good.” You sighed, exhaustion wearing down every inch of your bones. “You're my favorite person, Bucky.”

The admission pierced Bucky's chest like a lightning strike. He knew he should not have read too much into it, that the revelation was nothing more than a drunken slip of tongue that you probably would not even remember in the morning. But for now, Bucky chose to let that little detail slide, to let himself pretend that the confession had been made with more purposeful intent behind it—that the words had meant as much to you as it did to Bucky.

"Sleep, sweetheart," he whispered, his lips brushing against your forehead. "I've got you."

Since that night in his bedroom, Bucky had made a vow: he wasn't going to run anymore.

Bucky had learned his lesson. He wasn't going to let his own fears dictate his actions, nor would he allow his emotions ruin the precious friendship he had built with you over the past few years. Whatever he felt—whatever torment clawed at his chest whenever you so much as looked his way—it was his burden to bear. You didn't deserve to suffer for his cowardice, and he swore to himself that he would never let it happen again.

That thought lingered in Bucky's mind as he moved stealthily through the abandoned industrial site, gun drawn, boots scraping silently against the cracked concrete floor. The mission was straightforward: take out remaining hostiles, extract any valuable intel, and regroup. Simple. A basic in and out job that would be done just in time for dinner.

The team had split into pairs, and as fate would have it—or rather, as Steve would have it—Bucky found himself assigned to the west wing of the site alongside you. The direct channel to your comms in Bucky’s earpiece was quiet, and the super soldier took it as a good indication that your side of the mission was going smoothly. Meanwhile, he swept through his own side of hallways with methodical precision, checking every room, muttering a curt “clear” to his comms for each canvassed area. 

The air was eerie with cold and mold when Bucky entered the last remaining room in the hallway. There was nothing particularly different about this one. It was just as empty and as menacing, smelling of rat’s piss and years of abandonment, though his seasoned instinct—one sculpted from years of fighting and survival—warned him that something was amiss. His fingers tightened around his weapon almost instinctively, feeling an immediate unease venture up his spine, raising the very hair on the back of his neck.

The silence was too perfect.

Bucky’s feet skidded to a stop, turning on his heel to retrace his steps back towards the entrance.

Then, it happened.

The ambush struck like lightning on water. One second Bucky was alone, and the next, shadows had flooded the room, faceless figures in tactical gears leaping towards him at the same time. They were fast and ruthless, and even though none seemed to possess enhanced abilities, Bucky was still outnumbered. He dodged the first three attackers easily enough—disarming the blade from the first assailant’s hand, ducking out of the swinging baton of the second’s, and rolling on the floor before redirecting the third one’s bullet with the palm of his vibranium arm.

Bucky dashed out of the room into the one right across, the group of attackers still hot on his tail. He ducked behind a metal table and started opening fires at the entrance, taking out the threats before they even got the chance to enter the room. A curse fell under his breath when Bucky realized that he had worked through his rounds, scrambling to replace the ammunition as footsteps thundered into the room.

Slamming the fresh magazine in place, Bucky inhaled a gearing breath, only to be met with a sudden hush that descended through the air.

He raised his gun.

Instead of finding himself at the end of numerous gun barrels, Bucky was granted the view of bodies scattered all over the floor. The tang of iron meshed detestably with the spoor of grime, fog swirling around the edge of Bucky’s adrenaline-honed mind. When the dust finally stifled, his focus immediately zeroed in on the figure standing amidst the wreckage, rising out of the smoke like a doomsday’s salvation.

“Hi, handsome.” You smiled around a heavy exhale, a crinkle in your eye that seized the very life out of Bucky’s lungs. “Miss me?”

Bucky let out a rough breath, somewhere between relief and admiration. The grip around his weapon slackened ever so slightly, his body still thrumming with fight-and-flight, though the sight of your beautiful smile had managed to wash him with the kind of serenity that no other person could compel.

“Was wondering when you’d show up, sweetheart,” Bucky said, rising from his makeshift fortress behind the table.

“Sorry, Sarge.” You hummed, casually brushing the dust off Bucky’s shoulder as though the contact didn’t send him skyrocketing to heaven. “You know I like to keep people on their toes.”

Bucky failed to suppress his grin, nudging your shoulder as the two of you headed towards the entrance. With the hostiles neutralized, and the information uploaded to the flash drive discreetly tucked in the safety of Bucky’s inside pocket, the two of you were prepared for extraction. He redirected his comms to the main channel, alerting the other team members that the two of you were ready to wrap up and get the hell out of this dismal place.

He was barely a foot out of the door when a loud bang resonated in the air.

In a split second, Bucky sprung in retaliation, taking aim at one of the bloody assailants on the ground that had somehow taken hold of a gun, Bucky’s finger pulling at his own weapon’s trigger, assassinating him in place.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Bucky’s heart throbbed in his throat, a silent prayer on his lips at how close of a call it had almost been. His gaze took a quick scan of the pile of bodies on the floor, making sure that none of them would pull a similar stunt, only allowing his shoulders to deflate when he saw no remaining signs of life.

“Bucky?”

Your voice barely reached him, thin despite the echoic air of this dingy site, but something inside Bucky twisted the moment he heard it.

When he turned, the initial relief that had flooded his chest instantly collapsed.

You were standing there, just a breadth out of reach with your gun still tightly clutched between your fingers. But the side of your neck—God, the side of your neck—was slick with red, thick and dark as it ran in angry runnels down your skin, staining the collar of your tactical gear, pooling on your shoulder and drenching everything it touched.

Your whole body swayed.

Bucky’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach.

“No, no, no—” he rasped as he caught you, arms winding around your frame to prevent you from hitting the floor. His knees slammed onto the cold concrete below as he cradled you against his chest, the tremble in his body betraying the steel he was supposed to be made out of.

Bucky blinked, willing this moment to splinter into a dream, willing for his body to be transported back into the comfort of his bedroom where the scene playing out in front of his eyes would be nothing more than a heinous nightmare. But as Bucky’s arms tightened around your limp figure, the awful, gut-wrenching truth settled like ice in his veins. 

This was real. 

The blood seeping through your gear wasn’t imagined. The faint hitch in your breath, the loss of color from your face, the sheer terror clawing its way up his throat—none of it was a dream.

His chest crashed.

“Hey, hey. I got you, Sugar.” His voice cracked as he pressed a palm against your wound, despairingly staunching the warmth from slipping through his fingers. But no matter how hard he was grasping, the blood just kept on flowing—too fast and too much—soaking his hands and every corner of his battered soul.

“Shit. Stay with me, sweetheart. Please,” he begged. “Steve! Nat! Somebody get here now!” he barked into his earpiece, nails digging deeper into your skin. “We need a medic! We need a—fuck—just get down here!”

You made a sound, somewhere between a gasp and a whimper, your breath warm against his cheek as you murmured, “I-It’s gonna… gonna be o-okay.”

It was a lie.

You both knew it.

And it destroyed him. 

“Don’t do that.” Bucky shook his head, his voice cracking around a choked sob. He forced a smile as he looked down at your pale face. “You always suck at lying.”

Your lips parted, the faintest ghost of a smile trying to make its way through, only to be interrupted by a wet cough that made Bucky’s chest cave in.

“Gotta stay with me, sweetheart. Please,” Bucky whimpered. “The team’s coming. Help is on the way. Just gotta hang in there a little more for me, yeah? Just a little longer. Please.”

Bucky wasn’t entirely sure to whom he was begging—whether it was you, the universe, or any higher divine power that might have heard his wretched prayer and taken pity on him. A man who had lost everything and asked for nothing, who was now asking for someone—anyone—to save the only thing in this world that made his life worth living, even if it meant having to sacrifice his soul in exchange.

Your hand reached out tentatively, shakily, gripping the strap of his tactical jacket and giving it the faintest tug. 

“Bucky,” you whispered, voice dissipating like a wisp of smoke as soon as you had uttered his name. Your eyes, glassy and unfocused, searched for his, and when they finally found him, a weak smile curved at your lips. “I love you.”

A sound tore from his throat, raw and full of despair. His forehead dropped against yours, his entire body rupturing under the weight of your words.

“I love you.” Bucky’s voice stammered. “God, I love you—I love you, sweetheart, I love you so much.” He pressed his lips against your clammy forehead, again and again, as though he could tether you here, as though his love alone could be enough to keep you from slipping away.

He should have been happy—should have felt something else other than this hollow, scorching agony. The person of his dreams, the one he had spent sleepless nights longing for, had just made the one admission that his heart had been wanting to hear, and yet, all he could do was break. His whole being perished under the weight of everything left unsaid, every moment wasted, every regret carving him open from the inside out.

He should have told you sooner.

God, he should have just told you—should have braced past his insecurities and found the courage somehow, should have showered you with every drop of love he had neatly stowed in his heart until he was shriveled and had no else to give. He should have bought you flowers everyday, let you know that you were the most beautiful person Bucky had ever met on this goddamn planet—because you deserved it.

You deserved everything.

Not this.

Not bleeding on the filthy floor of this desolate place, fighting off death that had bludgeoned its way right through your door.

“You’re gonna be okay, Sugar. We’re getting out of here, you hear me?” His breath stuttered, his grip tightening as if he could physically gather all of your fragmented pieces and mend you as new. “I’m gonna treat you so good. You’ll see. Gonna spoil you rotten like I ought to. Just—please, just hold on—”

Your fingers twitched against his chest. Your eyes fluttered.

A quivering breath left your lips before your body went completely limp.

Bucky stilled.

“Sugar?”

Nothing.

No soft inhale. No faint murmurs of response.

No squeeze of your fingers against his jacket.

Bucky’s entire world came crashing down in the blink of an eye.

“No. No, no, no, no—”

His hand cupped your face, blood smearing from his skin to yours. Bucky’s fingers trembled as he tapped your cheek, as if the action alone could keep you here, could bring you back to him. His breathing ceased, his whole body shuddering as he rocked you in his arms, your name tumbling over and over again from his lips like a prayer, like a curse, like a plea to the universe to undo everything, to give him one more chance, to take him instead.

“Come back to me,” he whispered, his face wet with the fractured shards of his heart. “Please.”

The only thing that acknowledged him was silence.

And Bucky Barnes had never hated the quiet more.

[botanicsoul]

Roses can wait

Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader

Explicit (18+)

Description: Bakugou was determined to ruin you, and he wasn’t about to let a phone call stop him. Now? You were going to pay for it.

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧. 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

Bakugou had you spread out on your bed, legs hooked over his shoulders, his tongue dragging slow, lazy circles over your clit. His fingers curled inside you, stretching you open, teasing that sweet spot that had you seeing stars.

It was embarrassing how fast he had you unraveling, body trembling under his touch, gasps and moans slipping from your lips before you could stop them.

“You’re so fuckin’ sensitive,” he muttered, voice muffled as he flicked his tongue against you. “Haven’t even gotten started, and you’re already falling apart.”

“K-katsuki—” You choked on your words when he sucked your clit into his mouth, groaning like you were his last meal.

Then—your phone rang.

You barely registered it at first, too drunk on pleasure, but the name flashing on the screen caught your attention. Mina.

You reached for it with shaky fingers, and Bakugou—who definitely noticed—grinned against your skin.

The second you answered, his mouth was on you again, tongue dipping into your entrance, fingers pressing deeper, harder.

“Hey, Mina,” you breathed, trying—and failing—to sound normal.

“Hey, babe! Just wanted to remind you we’re going on our double date in an hour! You guys didn’t forget, right?”

Bakugou’s scarlet eyes flicked up to yours, dark with amusement. His lips brushed your clit as he murmured, “Better keep talkin’, sweetheart.”

Your body jerked at the vibration of his voice, pleasure coiling tight in your stomach.

“I—n-no, I didn’t forget,” you said, voice a little too breathy.

Mina giggled. “You sure? You sound kinda out of breath. You okay?”

Bakugou chuckled into your cunt, dragging his tongue up your slit before sucking your clit into his mouth, hard. You slapped a hand over your mouth, muffling the desperate sound that almost slipped.

“I-I’m just—uh—” Your breath hitched when he added a third finger, stretching you wider. “Getting r-ready!”

Bakugou nipped at your inner thigh, eyes gleaming. “Damn right you are.”

Your free hand fisted in the sheets as he worked you over, lips and fingers moving in sync, his tongue pressing slow, deliberate strokes against your swollen clit. The heat in your stomach was unbearable, a desperate ache building, pushing you closer—

“Great! I’ll see you both soon then, yeah?”

Your entire body tensed. Bakugou fucking knew you were about to come. His tongue flicked faster, fingers moving in a way that had your vision going white.

“Y-Yeah, see you soon!” You rushed out, immediately tossing your phone aside, barely hearing Mina’s goodbye before you hung up.

The second the call ended, your head dropped back with a strangled moan, pleasure crashing into you as your orgasm ripped through you. Your thighs clamped around Bakugou’s head, your back arching off the bed as you came hard, waves of heat rolling through you.

But he didn’t stop.

His fingers kept moving, his tongue dragging through your folds, slow, teasing licks that had you whimpering. Your body jerked with overstimulation, thighs twitching, but Bakugou held you down, sucking your clit back into his mouth as you sobbed.

“Too much—” You gasped, hands weakly pushing at his head.

Bakugou only chuckled, nipping at your thigh. “Nah, you can take it.”

His fingers curled again, pressing deep, and you let out a broken whimper, legs trembling. Your body was still too sensitive, but that only egged him on. He was watching you so closely, eating up every little sound, every twitch.

“You think you can answer the phone when I’m eatin’ this pretty little pussy?” His voice was smug, fingers still buried inside you.

“I-I thought it was important!”

Bakugou clicked his tongue, withdrawing his fingers—only to slap your clit, making you yelp.

“You’re a real brat, y’know that?” He leaned over you, pressing his fingers to your lips. “Open.”

You obeyed without thinking, tongue darting out as he slid his fingers into your mouth. The taste of yourself coated them, warm and slick, and his pupils blown as he watched you suck.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” His voice was low, thick with arousal. “S’pose I should reward you for bein’ so sweet.”

He smirked, dragging the head of his cock through your soaked folds.

“Now, lemme see how many times I can make you come before dinner.”

His cock was still buried deep inside you, his breath hot against your lips, his body radiating heat as he came down from his high.

But you weren’t catching a break.

Bakugou’s hands wandered, trailing down your sides, across your stomach, his fingers brushing over the mess between your thighs. His touch was too gentle, too teasing—and you knew exactly what that meant.

“You still got an hour ‘til dinner, don’t you?” His voice was smug, breathless, but still cocky as ever.

Your body twitched at the implication, still reeling from the last orgasm. “Katsuki—”

He smirked, dragging a thumb through the mixture of his release and your arousal, bringing it up to your clit. He barely applied pressure, just a slow, lazy circle—just enough to make you twitch.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmured, pressing soft kisses along your jaw, down your neck. “Thought you wanted to see if you could handle it?

You whimpered, thighs trying to close around his hand, but he tut-tutted, forcing them apart.

“you’re actin’ shy?” His lips curled into a smirk, fingers dipping lower, teasing your oversensitive entrance. “Nah, baby, you don’t get to tap out now.”

You knew he was enjoying this—the way you were squirming, overstimulated and helpless under his touch.

His cock twitched inside you, still half-hard.

Fuck.

“You’re already gettin’ tight around me already, you must really want it.” He groaned, rolling his hips just slightly, just enough for you to feel it. You bit your lip, trying to shake your head—but your body told him otherwise.

“Liar,” he muttered. Then, without warning, he pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach.

You barely had time to react before he was manhandling you, his hands gripping your hips, lifting them up, arching your back just right—until you were spread out beneath him, ass up, face pressed into the pillow.

“Fuck, look at you,” he groaned, hands squeezing your ass, pulling your cheeks apart just to watch your swollen, soaked cunt twitch in anticipation. “So messy—such a fuckin’ pretty pussy.”

A slap landed against your ass, the sharp sting sending heat through your body. You yelped, fingers twisting in the sheets, but he just chuckled.

“You like that?” He grinned, smoothing a hand over the stinging skin before grabbing your waist, aligning himself at your entrance again. “Then you’re gonna love this.”

He slammed into you in one deep thrust, stretching you all over again.

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, body jerking at the overstimulation.

“Yeah, that’s fuckin’ right,” Bakugou groaned, fingers digging into your hips. “Take it, baby.”

His pace was relentless—his hips snapping into yours, his cock dragging against that sweet, sensitive spot with every thrust. You felt everything—too much, too good, the pleasure burning through you so intensely that your mind blanked.

The sounds filling the room were filthy—your moans, his groans, the wet, obscene slap of skin on skin.

Your arms gave out, your cheek pressing into the pillow as he fucked you into the mattress. “S-suki—”

“I know, baby,” he gritted out, voice strained, breathless. “I fuckin’ know.” He flipped you on your back before quickly sticking himself deep inside of you again.

His hand slid down, pressing against your stomach, right where he was hitting deepest. “You feel me right here, huh?”

You struggle to nod your head yes. “Ain’t so talkative now, huh?” He pulled back slightly, shifting to hook one of your legs over his arm, angling himself deeper. Your eyes rolled back, a sob slipping from your lips when he slammed into that perfect spot inside you.

Your response was a broken sob, your walls clenching around him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “you’re so tight—‘m gonna fuckin’ ruin you, baby.”

His fingers found your clit again, rubbing fast, mercilessly, dragging you to the edge too quickly.

“Cum for me again, princess,” he ordered, voice sharp, commanding. “Cum all over my cock.”

And you did.

Your body locked up, pleasure crashing into you like a tidal wave. Your vision blurred, your breath caught in your throat, your walls milking his cock as you came hard.

Bakugou groaned, his rhythm faltering, his grip on your hips bruising as he fucked you through it. “Shit— I’m gonna—”

With one last deep, brutal thrust, he spilled inside you, a low, guttural moan tearing from his throat as he filled you up.

The both of you collapsed, his weight pressing against you, your bodies slick with sweat, chests heaving.

For a moment, the only sound was your ragged breathing.

Bakugou chuckled. “Think Mina’s gonna notice if we’re late?”

You groggily grabbed your phone, panic setting in when you saw the time. You had completely lost track of it.

Mina’s texts were waiting for you:

Mina (8:38): Girl… are you guys coming? Me and Kiri already ordered the apps!

Mina (8:50): You two are actual sluts.

Mina (8:51): We can try again next week. Call me when you’re done fucking 🥰❤️

Your face turned bright red.

‘fuck. me.’

[gf2bellamy]

bet — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: you and spencer have a bet on who is going to be the first to expose your relationship content warnings: mention of a victim a/n: when i tell you this took me ages omg i was struggling

You and Spencer had a bet. 

A ridiculous, entirely unnecessary bet—but a bet nonetheless.

The stakes? Bragging rights, and the satisfaction of being able to tease the other endlessly.

The challenge? Who would be the first to slip up and accidentally reveal your secret relationship to the rest of the BAU team. 

Both of you knew that secrecy wasn’t exactly your strong suit. Between Spencer’s tendency to ramble when nervous and your habit of wearing your emotions like a neon sign, it was only a matter of time before someone pieced it all together.

And that was what made the bet so much fun—because neither of you wanted to be the one to crack first. 

Some mishaps had already happened, moments that came far too close to giving you both away. 

Like the time Derek had caught Spencer staring at you during a team briefing. “Hey, Pretty Boy, you got something to add, or are you just lost in thought over there?” Derek had teased, a smirk tugging at his lips. Spencer, predictably, had flushed a deep shade of red and stumbled over a vague response. 

And, of course, who could forget the case in Chicago when Hotch had walked into the room just as Spencer had brushed a strand of hair out of your face? The gesture had been so natural, so tender, that even Hotch had paused for a fraction of a second before continuing his sentence. You could’ve sworn he’d given you a knowing glance, though he hadn’t said a word. 

Right now, you were sitting at your desk, trying (and failing) to focus on finishing your report on the case from two days ago.

“Spence, what was the address of the place where we found the second victim?” you asked, tapping your pen on the paper as you glanced up at your boyfriend sitting across from you at his desk.

“1375 Oakridge Drive,” he replied almost automatically, barely looking up from his own report.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, jotting it down and trying not to get distracted by the little curl of hair falling onto his forehead.

The bullpen was unusually quiet, save for the faint clacking of keyboards and the low hum of the coffee machine.

That peace didn’t last long, though, as Derek and Garcia burst into the room, engaged in what sounded like a very enthusiastic debate. 

“Reid, listen to this!” Derek called out, cutting across the bullpen as Penelope trailed behind him, waving her arms dramatically. Both you and Spencer instinctively looked up from your work.

“Okay,” Derek began, leaning one arm casually on the divider of Spencer’s desk. “Do you think watching a rom-com with someone is romantic?” 

“Specifically with a friend,” Penelope interjected, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Because apparently, Mr. ‘Romance Expert’ here thinks it is!” 

Derek rolled his eyes. “Come on, Penelope. It can be romantic. I mean, think about it—it’s all cozy, emotional, and half the time someone ends up crying or sharing popcorn. You’re telling me that doesn’t create a vibe?” 

Spencer blinked, caught off guard by the sudden question. He sat up straighter, adjusting his tie slightly as he considered his answer. 

“Well,” he began, his voice contemplative, “the concept of watching a romantic comedy doesn’t inherently equate to a romantic interaction. However, if the participants have underlying romantic feelings, the environment—such as sharing an intimate space or engaging in emotional dialogue—could certainly facilitate a sense of connection. For example, I—” 

He froze mid-sentence, his brain catching up with his mouth as he realized where he was going. 

Oh no. 

Your eyes widened in panic as you watched Spencer flounder. His lips parted as though he might try to backtrack, but the damage was already done. 

“For example…?” Derek prompted, his brows shooting up, clearly intrigued. 

Spencer quickly cleared his throat, fumbling for a save. “Uh, hypothetically. I mean, generally speaking. Like, if two people…were, um, interested in each other—not me, of course—then maybe…” His voice trailed off as he glanced at you. 

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, knowing full well that he was treading dangerously close to losing the bet. 

Derek narrowed his eyes, studying Spencer for a moment. “Hmm,” he said slowly, drawing out the syllable. “You’re acting a little weird there. Something you wanna share with the class?” 

“Nope!” Spencer said quickly, shaking his head so forcefully it made his curls bounce. “Absolutely nothing.” 

Penelope raised an eyebrow, looking between you and Spencer with suspicion. “Uh-huh. If you say so.” 

You decided to intervene before they could dig any deeper. “Alright, Garcia, what’s your stance on the rom-com thing?” you asked, redirecting the conversation. 

The distraction worked, and Penelope launched into an impassioned argument, effectively pulling Derek’s attention away from Spencer.

You shot Spencer a look across the desks, mouthing close call. He gave you an apologetic shrug, his cheeks still faintly pink. 

Two days later, you made the mistake. The one that was ten times worse than the rom-com slip-up Spencer had made. 

You were in the file room, buried in paperwork that Hotch had assigned to you earlier that morning. The hours had been long and draining, and you’d barely made a dent in the pile.

Derek was there too, flipping through some files, his eyes narrowing in concentration, while Garcia sat at the table, her usual flair of colorful banter filling the otherwise quiet room.

She wasn’t doing much work, but she was keeping the rest of you entertained with her gossip. 

“This is tiring,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible as you stretched and yawned, your eyes heavy from exhaustion.

You handed Derek a file, trying to keep your energy up, though it was clear you weren’t succeeding. 

Spencer, who had been quietly scanning through a set of documents, glanced up at you, and then took a step closer. “You should go take a break and grab a coffee,” he suggested, his voice warm and concerned. “I’ll take these off your hands.” 

You spun around to face him, smiling at the sight of him standing there, his sleeves rolled up and his hair slightly tousled.

His expression was a mixture of concern and adoration, and you couldn’t help the little flutter in your chest. 

You smiled at him, genuinely grateful for the offer. You’d been working for hours, and the fatigue was beginning to take its toll. 

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice soft with appreciation. Without thinking, you leaned in slightly and planted a quick kiss on Spencer's cheek, your hand instinctively resting on his face—something you'd done countless times without giving it much thought.

The moment your lips brushed his skin, time seemed to slow. You pulled back almost immediately, but not fast enough. Your heart skipped a beat as you looked up into Spencer’s eyes, wide and shocked.

His brown eyes were locked on yours, the same stunned expression mirroring your own. 

It was like a slow-motion realization hit you both at the exact same time—you just kissed him. 

Before either of you could process what had happened, a loud gasp echoed from behind you. 

“Oh my god!” Garcia squealed, her voice thick with excitement. 

You felt your face burn as you snapped your eyes shut, feeling a flush creep up your neck. You could practically hear Derek’s mischievous chuckle follow suit. 

Spencer's back stiffened, and you knew exactly what was coming next. 

“Well, well, well,” Derek's voice rang out, full of teasing amusement, “Look what we got here” His tone was almost dramatic as he clapped Spencer on the back. 

“Way to go, my man! Getting the girl!” Derek cheered loudly. 

You dropped your hand from Spencer’s face to his chest, your shoulders slumping as you sighed loudly.

It was out in the open now—so much for the bet. 

Penelope’s voice cut through the air like a burst of confetti. “I knew it! I’ve been saying it for months, but nobody would listen to me!”

She was practically bouncing on her feet as she grinned at the both of you, clearly pleased with herself. 

Spencer gave you a nervous but warm smile. You could tell he was about to say something, but before he could, you were swarmed by both Derek and Garcia. 

“I knew you two were adorable,” Garcia squealed, pulling you into a tight hug. “Oh my god, you two are going to be so cute together.” 

Derek, on the other hand, ruffled Spencer’s hair. “I’m proud of you, man.” 

You could feel your pulse racing as you glanced at Spencer, who was doing his best to keep his usual composure, but the hint of a smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.

He gave you a look that could only be described as amused exasperation, as if asking, Well, I guess we don’t need to worry about hiding it anymore, do we? 

A quiet laugh escaped your lips. Spencer’s smile softened as his hand reached for yours.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured softly, leaning in a bit closer to him. “I didn’t mean for this to—” 

He cut you off with a gentle squeeze of your hand, his voice just low enough for only you to hear. “It’s okay,” he whispered, “I think it’s about time they found out.” 

Later that night, you and Spencer were lying in bed. Your head rested on his chest, and your fingers absentmindedly drew soft circles over his chest as you listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath you.

His hand was gently resting around your waist, his thumb lightly brushing over the skin of your arm. 

"Today was fun," you murmured into his chest, the sound muffled but sincere. 

“A lot of fun,” he chuckled, the vibration of his laugh resonating through his chest. 

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, remembering the teasing from Derek and Garcia, and the way everything had just spilled out into the open.

“I for sure thought you’d be the one to lose the bet,” you teased, your voice light and playful. 

Spencer raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a soft smile. "I didn’t," he said, his voice playful but confident. 

“Why is that?” you asked, lifting your head just enough to prop yourself up on your elbow. Spencer met your gaze, his smile never wavering.

He was looking down at you with that soft affection that always made your heart skip a beat, but there was something teasing behind his eyes now. 

"You're more obvious than me," he said, brushing a strand of hair out of your face with his fingers, the touch tender. 

You immediately furrowed your brow, sitting up a little straighter. “No I’m not,” you said, a playful frown tugging at your lips. 

But the moment his fingers gently brushed your hair again, any trace of the playful frown disappeared. A warm smile spread across your face, unable to resist the effect his touch had on you. 

Spencer tilted his head, his eyes glinting with that teasing spark you knew so well. “Oh really?” he said, his voice laced with amusement, his gaze never leaving yours. 

You rolled your eyes at him, but the smile on your face betrayed you. “Okay, maybe,” you admitted with a mock sigh, before leaning back down onto his chest. 

Spencer’s laughter rumbled softly in his chest as he kissed the top of your head.

You snuggled closer to him, your face against his chest once more, feeling the beat of his heart beneath you.

"Goodnight, Spence," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. 

"Goodnight," he replied, his hand gently squeezing your waist as he kissed your forehead one last time. 

[noodlemoondle]

You Always Come First

(No matter how upset I am)

Zayne x Reader

summary: you and zayne have a small spat over you neglecting your health. as a result of it, you decide to sleep on the couch, not wanting to bother/upset him even further. randomly waking up in the night, you notice you’re no longer alone on the couch and do everything you can to get the doctor back in bed before he’s sore for his shift tomorrow.

tags: not proofread!, hurt/comfort? (i didn’t rlly include the hurt part of it so im not too sure), fluff, literal sleeping together, caring n sweet zayne (when is he not), self indulgent per usual

a/n: bro tumblr is REALLY testing my patience. why is it so dumb with everything i try to post. it’s literally why i haven’t posted a fic in a while. i can’t take this much longer i may crash out soon. anyway, as always hope u enjoy! (⁎˃ᴗ˂⁎)

side tangent: i actually have been so obsessed with caleb. it’s actually a problem. i have been loyal to zayne this entire time and i’ve been playing since release, but caleb is REALLY testing it. lord i’m a sucker for the protective n caring childhood friends to lovers trope (¯―¯٥) (id expect a caleb fic soon tbh if tumblr wants to stop hating me and making my life so difficult)

the fight was stupid. you were neglecting your health once again not taking your medicine, not resting, and ignoring doctors specific orders. zayne often could never say no to you, he always spoiled you and gave into any of your requests. the only time he was stern and stubborn was when it involved your health, that he doesn’t and will never budge on. you often lacked care for your health, pushing it to the back burners of your mind and often calling zayne dramatic saying “you knew yourself and your limits”. something zayne wasn’t particularly fond of. he confronted you about your recent negligence of your health and both of your stubbornness in your beliefs led to an argument.

it’s been an hour or 2 since it ended though. zayne left to your shared bedroom, most likely to do some work, while you stayed out in the living area, trying to distract yourself from the anger turning to sadness and guilt in your heart. you ended up deciding to just sleep on the couch tonight not wanting to bother him after an argument. you grabbed an extra pillow and thin blanket from a nearby closet and put on a random show so you wouldn’t have to fall asleep listening to your own thoughts. soon enough you were able to relax and fall into a slumber.

you don’t know how long it’s been since you fell asleep. you hear the tv still on as you slowly wake and become aware of your surroundings. once you can see clearly, that’s when you realize you were laying on top of zayne previously using his chest as a pillow unbeknownst to you. he has been peacefully sleeping on the couch with you for who knows how long. as you sat up in a panic you also notice a thicker, softer blanket, one you have preference for, falling off of your shoulders. instantly guilt is washed over you as you look at zayne, who is a somewhat light sleeper, somehow still deep in his sleep. you swallow quickly as you build confidence to wake him up.

you lean closer to his face which was awkwardly propped up by the couch’s arm rest, a position that you couldn’t imagine to be anywhere near comfortable. you lightly tap his shoulder and call his name trying to wake him up. soon enough he does, opening his eyes to see you staring back at him, the faintest smile appears on his face at the sight, almost forgetting of the spat you two shared earlier. before he could even say anything you scold him:

“why are you here? i was sleeping on the couch tonight. you have work early in the morning go back to bed and go to sleep.”

“couldn’t have you sore in the morning” he answers calmly releasing a small yawn in the process.

“neither can you! you have a long shift starting early tomorrow. i’ll be fine just go back to bed.” you quickly rebutted trying to push him off the couch, something that you didn’t have the strength to do, but nevertheless you persisted.

“i can get through a shift with an achy neck, however you can not.” he replies as he softly grabs your hands that are trying to shove him away back to bed.

“i know i’ll be fine. i’ll live to see another day. now go back to bed already!” you say. your voice getting louder as you’re starting to get frustrated trying to break out of his soft grasp.

“will you be joining me?” he asks softly not letting go of your wrists that keep trying to fight against him.

“no, i’m sleeping on the couch!” your voice raising above the tv still playing in the back illuminating the room.

“then it seems like i shall too” he states as he frees your wrists and pushes you back onto his chest, laying the blanket over you both.

before you can even think of a response zayne wraps his arms around your torso and closes his eyes to fall asleep once again, to which you quickly flick his chest to wake him back up. he opens his eyes again and looks down at you with an unamused expression.

“why won’t you just let me sleep here alone?” you ask in a tone he can’t quite place, nevertheless he can hear the slight amount sorrow that came along with it.

“i already told you, i can’t have you go into work tomorrow with a sore neck and back.” he says closing his eyes again despite your wishes against it.

“if you don’t wish to be with me tonight then i’ll sleep on the couch and you can take the bed” he continues. his arms involuntarily tighten ever so slightly around you showing how much he doesn’t want that.

“but i also told you!!! you can’t sleep on the couch, you have a few surgeries to complete, and you have to be in your best shape to do so.” you try to push up against his arms wrapped around you, another pointless action.

zayne sighs and opens his eyes again to look at you before speaking.

“well then you have two options. one, we both move over to the bed to sleep. or two, i sleep here and you sleep over in the room. my job isn’t physically taxing compared to yours, im not allowing you to go in if you don’t have a proper rest.”

he looks tired. you study his features before you respond to him. taking a moment to look at the eyebags under his eyes and a slight frustration growing in his face from this back and forth.

you sigh before answering “then to the bed we go”

a soft smile appears on zaynes face as he begins to get up. his neck slightly sore, but he wouldn’t reveal that to you. although it’s against your wishes, he lifts you up having you hold the blanket and pillow as he carries you back to bed.

he sets you down on your side of the bed, thinking you won’t necessarily want to be close with him tonight. not before tucking you in and kissing the top of your head whispering his love and goodnight wishes. as he gets into bed you turn to face him. once he fully lays down you scootch closer to him and grab onto the hem of his shirt. he instantly understands what you want and pulls you towards him, pressing you to his side as he wraps his arms around you.

he kisses your forehead once more and whispers

“we will continue our discussion after work tomorrow. goodnight, i love you.”

too tired to argue with him anymore you just nod your head against him replying quietly mouth squished against him making your words barely audible.

“goodnight, love you too”

[krosiefics]

when did you get so buff? • lee minho

M D N I 18+

Synopsis: when your best friend, Minho, arrives at your apartment drenched from the rain. What would happen if you acted on the sudden arousal of seeing the outline of his built body?

WC: 1.3k

Tags: smut, pwp, afab!reader, bsf!minho, softdom!minho, ass spanking, pet names (baby, kitten), cursing, grinding, lwk dry humping, piv, unprotected sex (plz don’t), creampie, unprepped sex, mutual pinning(?), probably forgetting something :P

a/n: this was written in like 10 mins so it’s kinda rushed lol also not proofread…this man had me in a chokehold the entire mv making video

————————————————————————

“Woah- when the fuck did you get so buff Min?” You let out a laugh of disbelief. Your best friend was on his way to your apartment when it started raining, by the time he got to your home, his jacket was soaked through, clinging to every part of his torso.

Minho looked at you and shrugged as he took off his jacket, “I dunno, I did start going to the gym with Changbin and Chan.”

“You look hot.” You said with a smirk, taking his jacket from him, leaving the room to put it in the dryer. Minho stood there with a flush on his face.

“Did she just say…I look hot?!” Minho thought to himself, his mind going a million miles an hour as his heart hammered in his chest. This wasn’t good for him, sure the two of you flirt sometimes, but he knows it’s nothing more than playful, at least on your end.

Minho placed his hand on his chest, taking deep breaths to calm his raging heart. You stroll back into the room and notice him taking deep breaths. “Hey you good?” You near him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Minho flinches slightly at your touch before melting into it.

“Yeah…I’m fine.” He gave a weak grin. “Dude, your face is super red.” You say in a worried tone, your hands cupping his red cheeks. His eyes go wide at your action, you realize and pull away, your face now heating up.

“Sorry, I- I don’t know what came over me.” You shake your head in embarrassment, you feel like your heart is about to rip through your body. “Fuck.” Minho groaned, moving to sit down on your sofa. “Don’t be sorry…it’s okay, I didn’t mind it.”

Your eyes lock with his, walking over to him almost as if you were entranced by him and he was drawing you in. You stood in front of Minho, gazing down into his pretty brown eyes, your eyes fall to the small little mole on his nose. You smile to yourself as you unconsciously trail your finger along it, down to his lips.

In an instant you’re snapped out of your daze, retracting your hand from Minho’s face. You were about to apologize before being suddenly pulled into his lap. Minho held your hips as you straddled his hips. You face heating up with each passing second. Minho leaned into, hesitantly nudging your nose with his.

Your breath hitches as his eyes shift their gaze to your lips. Unconsciously, you jolt your tongue across your lower lip, causing them to glisten. “Fuck,” you breathe out shakily, “your lips are pretty.” Before you could even process your own words, the boy in front of you pulls you in by the nape of your neck, attaching his lips to yours.

You moan into the kiss as his hands trail down towards your ass before gently squeezing at it. “Min,” you whined, a knowing feeling surged through you that you dreaded, the two of you needed to talk about what’s happening. “Shh, let’s enjoy this, then talk.” He said between kisses.

Minho’s hands made their way to the hem of your shirt, slipping them under, touching your warm skin. “Soft.” He smiled against your lips before cupping your breasts under your shirt causing you to gasp out a moan. Your hands fly to Minho’s hair as he begins peppering kisses along your neck, his hands still groping at your chest.

You roll your hips into his, Minho lets out a pleasurable sigh at the friction. His hands trail down your curves to the swell of your ass before grasping it in his palms. You groaned at the touch, both of his hands and the rolls of your hips.

Minho places a kiss on your collarbone as he lightly smacks your clothed ass. You jolt at the sudden slap but it didn’t induce too much pain.

“Min,” you sigh, fingers pulling against his hair full of need. You can feel arousal pooling, you wouldn’t be surprised if it already stained your shorts by now.

Minho sneaks his hands under the waistband of your shorts and onto your warm skin, gently pushing down your shorts while massaging the flesh there. You allow him to slip it down, shifting your legs so that you can slide the material off.

Before Minho could guide you back into his lap, you stay in your awkward lifted position, slipping out of your underwear, which you can now see has a very evident wet patch on it.

“Fuck.” Minho breathes out, his hands feeling up your curves, “You’re hot you know that?” You feel your cheeks warm at his sudden praise, shifting your head to the size so that the boy underneath you doesn’t see your blush. But of course Minho notices, he smirks pridefully to himself, tongue poking out between his teeth.

Minho brings his hand up to slap your ass again but he stops dead in his tracks as he watches intently as you work your fingers at his jeans. Minho stares at you, the way your cheeks are red, the way your hands shake slightly with excitement, the way you’re rubbing your thighs together as you finally unbutton and unzip his fly.

Minho lifts his hips, after snapping out of his daze that you put him in, allowing you to pull his pants and boxers down in one swoop. His cock freely stood against his lower abdomen, red and veiny, precum leaking at the tip, not too big but definitely above average.

Minho’s desire for you grew even more as he watched you drool over his cock, the one that you had yet to actually touch. “Come sit your pretty pussy on me, yeah kitten?” Your eyes widen at the pet name, a wave of lust rushing through your body that has your cunt clenching around nothing.

Adjusting yourself back comfortably into his lap, you take hold of his cock aligning it with your hole. You probe your throbbing cunt with the tip, an erotic mewl leaving your lips. Sounds of your mains overlapping filled the room as you finally sunk down onto his cock, fully bottoming out.

The stretch burned, it burned so much that it brought tears to your eyes, but that wasn’t about to stop you from rolling your hips down onto Minho. “Wait baby, I didn’t stretch you- just wait okay.” Minho grunts as your forehand falls against his. His hands held you still as you clenched around his cock, adjusting to his size.

“You okay now kitten?” You hastily nod, your hips twitching with neediness. Minho chuckles before guiding you off his cock before moving you back down. You both let out a groan when you start speeding up the pace of your movement.

Minho’s hands now just gripping at your waist as you bounce on his cock. The tip of his cock hits you right in your g spot causing your thighs to tremble slightly. Your orgasm grows closer and closer with each bounce.

Minho bites his lip at the sight in front of him; your lip caught between your teeth as your face scrunches up in pleasure, tits bouncing through your shirt, and your cunt taking his cock so well.

The feeling of you clenching so tightly around him drove him towards his climax.

“Fuck babe, imma cum.” Minho grunted as he bucked his hips up to meet yours. You moaned loudly at how his cock filled you deeply. Your whines begin to rise as your orgasm hits you like a truck. With the combination of you creaming all over his cock and the intense clenching of your cunt, Minho’s cock twitches as he pours his load into you with a deep groan.

“Holy shit,” You breath out shakily, “we just did that.” Minho chuckles as he lifts you enough to slip his cock out, he could feel as his cum dripped out of your cunt and onto his pelvis.

“Fuck I love you…I have for a while.” Minho pants in disbelief as he gazes into your exhausted eyes. You nuzzle your head into his neck with a smile, “I’ve loved you too Min, for a while.”

[zevrra]

never forget—

synopsis: where sebastian is actually worried about MC and regrets casting crucio on them caaaause that moment in the game was not enough for me pfft!

tags: 18(+), lil angst, mostly fluff, sebastian(18) x reader, i didn’t know how to end this oops, one-shot, 2k words.

“Crucio!”

The pain that followed that one little word was excruciating.

Yet the spell casted upon you was of your own doing. You, Ominis, and Sebastian had become good friends since your first day at Hogwarts. Always together, always the 3 of you somehow in trouble. Well, mostly you and Sebastian. Somehow Ominis always managed to get out of the trouble the two of you dragged him into. You were Slytherin after all, it was most likely in your blood.

When you first met Sebastian, he had such an eager to learn that his demeanor was contagious. So much so you couldn’t help but also want to gain more knowledge with him over the years. It was all thanks to Ominis from keeping you two from ending up expelled. Your savior in a sense. But ever since the three of you had become good friends, Sebastian never let up about Salazar Slytherin. He was set on finding his Scriptorium, begging Ominis for so long to show him the way. Seeing as he believed finding it would help cure his sister’s, Anne, curse.

When Ominis had finally given into you both and led the way, the three of you worked wonderfully together. Traversing dark and wary caves. Fending off giant spiders, solving puzzles all that good stuff. Until finally you reach a room with a single note, bones buried in dirt, no way out, the word CRUCIO etched into the stone before your feet, and what looked to be a screaming apparition burned onto a mirror.

You sadly read the note aloud for all to hear. Detailing a grim last few words from Ominis’s aunt. Who unfortunately had gone looking for the Scriptorium, alone, and met an untimely fate. You reach out to gently touch Ominis’s shoulder and he stills beneath your touch.

“I’m so sorry about your aunt, Omni.” You mourn. He nods in acceptance. Nothing they did now could’ve changed what had happened to his aunt. He would at least find some peace in knowing what happened to her.

Sebastian is at your side then. Concerned look on his own freckled face. “Ominis…I know it’s hard. But the letter details using Crucio. You’re the best suited for this—“

“No! I won’t do it. To use Crucio you have to mean it. I will not cast that spell ever again…especially on you two.” Ominis steps away from your reach. Closing off from the activity entirely. You didn’t blame him.

You turn to face Sebastian then who looks..almost disappointed with Ominis's rejection. He gestures for you to follow him closer to the wailing mirror. Hauntingly beautiful, even in its twisted state.

“Well, two options. You cast Crucio on me, or I…cast it on you. It’s the only way we’re getting out of here. We can’t die here and now because of—of morals.” Sebastian whispers to you. The thought of dying in that suffocating tomb alone makes your skin crawl.

Ominis had always been vocal about how horrible any of the killing curses were, especially this spell. Seeing as he was forced to cast it when he was younger. The nightmares still haunt the blonde from what you could tell. His sleepless nights. The flinch at loud noises. It was obvious, whatever you decided, that this would forever weigh heavy on your soul. Yet the spell…could come in handy when facing Ranrok. He was your enemy after all.

You hoped it would never come down to using it though.

“Fine. Teach me the spell but you…you cast it on me. I won’t hurt you Seb.” You mumble. And at first, he’s hesitant. His wand slightly swayed before he reluctantly nods. His hands slightly shake as he teaches you the wave of the wand. He had never performed the dark arts before and this could go very wrong or just really wrong. Either way was going to hurt. But you trusted him.

That’s how you ended up in the here and now. Agonizing pain ripped through your flesh like lightning. Flames behind your eyeballs that force them to shut tight. Hoping to ease the pain away. Your teeth gnash against your lip to hold back screams of pain. It does nothing. Dark magic moves under your skin like writhing red and green tentacles. You gasp between almost suffocating screams.

Breathe in, scream, breathe out.

Your back is against the stone, arched, burning hot. Even as Ominis, or maybe it was Sebastian’s, or both of their hands are grabbing at your arms. Cool fingers press into your hot flesh as the boy’s try to lift you from the floor.

They try to comfort you during one of the worst moments of your life. It doesn’t help. They both fumble as they move you into the room that opened up behind the wailing mirror. The pain is nauseating. Every fumble, correction, and movement makes your stomach churn. Threatening to spill out your lunch. Your consciousness is slowly fading at this point. Stars blinking behind your eyelids as you grasp for whatever you can to stay awake.

Through the pulsing pain in your head and ears, you barely hear the two boys arguing. More or less Ominis yelling about how he was right. How this was a stupid idea as he struggles to help carry you. Ominis can’t see where he steps yet he’s trying so hard to save you now.

“You—you’re both idiots!” Ominis snarls. Struggling with words through his rage and panic. “How could you do something like this!”

“I understand, Ominis! Just—just, Merlin, help me! Help me get to the infirmary!” Sebastian spits back as they continue to fumble around, looking for an exit.

The last thing you hear is Sebastian calling for desperate help before the pain becomes too much and finally takes you under. Passing out from the curse spell later than you would’ve liked.

When concussions come back to you, it’s almost unbearable. Your eyes flutter open but fall closed once again. Maybe you could just stay like that for forever. Lying on a cloud, nice and warm, with your eyes closed. Eh, sounds a little too much like death for your liking.

Thankfully, your second attempt at waking up is far more fruitful. Candlelight flickers rapidly at the edge of your feet as your eyes slowly come into focus. You make out the white sheets laying across your body. Feel the firm mattress against your back. Connecting the dots, slowly but surely, that you were in the infirmary.

Your head moves slightly to continue looking around. Hoping a nurse was close by so you could ask for some water or medicine or anything to make the dull ache in your body stop. Instead your eyes find Sebastian.

His unruly brown hair is somehow even messier than usual. He slumps against the side of your bed and from what you can tell, he might be asleep. Seeing as it was sometime during the night. If you had to guess he probably snuck into the infirmary to be at your side.

Suddenly memories of what happened in the Scriptorium come back to you. Sending a harsh chill down your entire body. The cast of Crucio echoes in the back of your mind. You’ll never forget the feeling. Or the look on Seb’s face as he waved the spell and casted it upon you.

‘Crucio can only be cast if you mean it.’ You remember Ominis’s haunting words. Sebastian must’ve meant it. But you try your best to not blame him. He was just trying to get you all out of that stone grave.

“Seb…” You try to speak. Your throat burns as you attempt to rouse the sleeping man at your side. Voice hoarse, borderline gone, from what you can only assume is from the screaming you barely remember doing. “Sebastian.” You barely manage his full name.

His body shifts at the sound of his name but he doesn’t rise. So you make your way to sit up. Although the moment you prepare to sit up, weight shifting ever so slightly, Sebastian shoots up instantly. His pretty green eyes meet your gaze in a wild look. As if he can’t believe you’re awake. Dried drool sticks to the edge of his lips. You can’t help but laugh. Or what you assume is a laugh. To Seb it probably sounds like you’re coughing.

“I—we—are you okay?” Seb stumbles over his words. Knowing Sebastian, he most likely had something planned to say the moment you woke up. Yet now he was almost speechless. For the first time ever.

“I’m o-okay just…w-water.” You manage to mumble. Now he’s quick to react. A glass of water is held out with lightning speed to you and you take it graciously.

After a moment of what felt like an eternity of being parched, you chug the water given to you, before you hand the glass off and sit fully upright. Your fingers lay in your lap, picking at the cotton of the blanket.

Silence falling between the two of you was so uncommon. It almost felt worse than writhing in pain. Not really but the wall built up was hard to ignore. You needed that wall to come down.

“How long was I asleep?” You ask softly. Breaking the silence as your throat is finally feeling better after some water.

“Three days,” Sebastian replies. He doesn’t look at you. You don’t blame him, not really. The guilt must weigh heavy on his shoulders.

Three days. The fact that it had been days since you had passed out in the scriptorium made your gut twist. You can’t even imagine what rumors must have spread among the school. Or the amount of questions the headmaster will be asking you. Oh you were definitely in for some trouble.

“I’m so sorry.”

Apologies were not something Sebastian was known for. The fact that he was apologizing at all was almost shocking. You didn’t have to guess that he didn’t really mean it when he casted Crucio. It was all just a matter of choices, for you all to survive.

“It’s okay,” Your voice is soft as you speak. “I don’t want you to blame yourself. I agreed to it Sebastian,” You remind him. It only makes Seb angrier with himself.

“Of course I blame myself! I could’ve killed you!” Sebastian says in a strained voice. He wants to scream and yell. He wants you to scream and yell at him. For letting him do something so stupid. For not listening to Ominis in the first place. For being too eager.

“It was a matter of life or death Seb you know that—“ You began to say but he cuts you off as he quickly stands from his chair.

“But what if there was another way!? What if I didn’t have to…didn’t want to—I could’ve changed something!” He angrily hisses as he turns his head away from you.

Silences befalls between the two of you again. Stretched longer than previously as you can’t think of something to say. He had three days to beat himself up for dragging all three of you to that scriptorium. You couldn’t imagine how many scenarios he himself had imagined over and over again while in your slumber.

“What if I had lost you?”

The soft words are barely loud enough to hear. Just a whisper under his breath you almost can’t manage to make out. But you do. The somber confession comes at you like a heavy rainstorm. Unexpected, welcoming, lovely, and a little noisy from his previous minor outburst. Building from a small drop to a straight downpour and you’re caught in the middle of it with no umbrella.

Even in the candlelight you see the tips of ears, beat red as he refuses to look at you. Shoulders tense as he tries to will himself to calm down. It was late, you weren’t supposed to be awake, and he wasn’t supposed to be there. It was not the time for this conversation.

Yet it makes you smile anyway. Butterflies jump around under your skin, in your heart, stomach following suit in doing somersaults. You reach with a gentle hand and grab hold of his shirt sleeve, giving it a tug. For a moment he stands completely still. Debating whether or not it was the right moment to hash all of this out. It wasn’t. Yet a second tug on his sleeve has him turning to finally look at you.

This time when you meet his green eyes, his wild look is gone. He looks at you like you’re the cure to whatever alignment he’s currently experiencing. It’s a saddened, sleepless, relieved look. Feeling every emotion he’s ever felt in his life all in the span of a few short seconds.

You smile fondly at Sebastian, praying he could see it in the soft light of the infirmary. “But you didn’t,” You remind him. Almost gesturing to you, him, and your surroundings. “I’m still here, Seb.”

Sebastian simply nods. Not having the courage to speak for it may bring him to tears. Now that would truly be the end of the world if that happened.

You reach for his hand. Reassuring and gentle as your fingers intertwine with his. He’s stiff as a board at your touch. He has always yearned for it but never had the faith to act upon his feelings.

“Plus, it’ll take more than that to get rid of me.” You say hoping to ease the young man’s feelings. At least for tonight.

A squeeze to your hand is the only response you receive as he returns to his seat. He rests your connected hands on the bed before his head follows suit. Instead of returning to the side of your bed he makes himself comfy on your thigh. You smile at the puzzling picture before you.

The great Sebastian Sallow, a man who rarely asks for any help, unless it involves trekking in some dark cave somewhere, was vulnerably sprawled out on top of you.

You stifle a giggle, fearing if he heard you laugh he would assume the worst and pull away. Instead your free hand pushes through his hair. Pushing away dark curly hair from his freckled face.

“You should return to the dorms before the nurse finds you.” You hum as your eyes scan his own closed eyes. Gazing at the lengths of his eyelashes. Every freckle you could see, thinking how fun it could be to count them one day.

“‘Ts fine,” Sebastian shrugs it off. You hear the softness of his breathing, slowly becoming shallow as he falls asleep. Fast asleep in your thigh with his hand tightly wound to yours. You wish you could have a painting done of this moment. Hoping by every ounce of magic in your veins that you never forget this feeling or the sight. And by Merlin does the sight make your heart ache and pound in equal parts.

You just hoped to never go through something like this ever again. Hopefully Sebastian would see how powerful and dangerous the dark arts could be and look for another solution to healing Anne’s curse. Maybe the ancient magic you wield could help next time instead of turning to the unforgiving curses.

[ifwdominicfike]

chicken tenders

“the best part of my day is when i get to see you naked.”

summary - chris has been stressing this entire week, meetings have piled up while also trying to maintain filming and keep up with his brand. all he wants right now is to see you.

switch!chris x switch!reader

you were on chris’ mind the second he woke up, he hadn’t seen you in about a week due to his busy schedule. he was growing frustrated, mentally and sexually, he would call you here and there to ask how your day was but he wasn’t really listening.

he was too lost in the sound of your tired voice from your long day as you told him what was going on, letting out small hums to let you know he was “listening”.

(flashback to yesterday..)

“and so thats when i tell her that- chris are you okay?” you had heard a soft whine from the other line “y-yeah m’fine, k-keep going ma. m’listening don’t worry..” his face turning red from almost getting caught, hand still wrapped around his cock waiting for you to continue your story “oh ok.. well anyways-“

“o-oh fuck!” he groaned, forgetting you could still hear him. “chris are you-?” you giggle “please ma, n-need you so bad baby.. haven’t been able to see you in so- fuck! so long” he lets out a shaky breath as his hand never stops its movement.

“yeah? need me that bad you’re willing to jerk off to my voice thinking i wouldn’t notice? you’re pathetic chris”

thats what got him, the degrading words pushing him over the edge. all that can be heard from his end is small cries and whimpers with your name thrown in between “fuck. y-you’re killing me baby, can’t wait to see you..”

(present day)

chris was excited for today, some of his meetings got pushed back a couple of days ahead which gave him some time to see you. not right now though, he still had to go to the warehouse to sign cards that were gonna be put in merch drops and still had a meeting or two to attend.

on the way there though he was fairly quiet, usually being his energetic self he would be blasting music throughout the whole car or picking on either matt or nick just because he was bored. “kid you there? hellooo!!” matt said waving his hand in front of chris’ face as they stopped at the red light. “what- matt get your fucking hand away from me dickhead” he pushes his hand away and scoffs “i was trying to ask you something, fucking idiot” matt said, clearly irritated.

“well what? im listening now.” chris grumbled “chris whats your problem? you’ve been acting like a moron this whole week” nick chimes in “probably cause he hasn’t seen his girl all week, s’that it chris?” matt says chuckling while the car starts moving once more.

“kid shut the fuck up already.” chris’ voice is now stern and serious “ooh that must be it” nick says laughing “can you both seriously stop talking, you’re fucking annoying.” he snaps at both of them.

“okay whatever kid just fix whatever the fuck you got going on there, m’not tryna have you moping around with us all day.” matt stated before pulling in to park.

chris was never known to be patient, always eager to have have what he wanted immediately. so when in the middle of a meeting he got a text from you he obviously opened it, not knowing that it was a photo of you in a white lingerie set with a following text saying “need you so bad baby :(“ he excused himself to the restroom and instantly called you.

you pick up immediately with a cheesy smile across your face “hey love!” your voice filled with innocence like you didn’t just get him hard in front of everyone. “y/n cut it out, im serious, right now isn’t a good time sweetheart” he said trying to keep his composure.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about baby, m’not doing anything..” you giggle “ma, please. just give me another hour and im all yours. please.” the desperation in his voice makes your thighs clench in need.

“well what if i want you now, you know i don’t like waiting” you let out a soft sigh, your hand begins to trail down to where you’re aching most. “y/n i swear if you’re doing what i think you are right now.” “don’t act like you don’t like it chris, bet you’re so hard right now, hm?”

“i’ll be there in a hour and if you keep up with this attitude you’re not coming at all tonight.” your thighs clench even more at his daring words. “ugh you’re no fun baby” you groan as he hangs up the phone.

he made his way back as matt and nick look at him annoyed, the meeting was already over and they were just sitting there waiting for chris. “do i have something on me? whats up?” he says checking his clothes and fixing his hair “you had us sitting here for forever, stupid fuck” nick says getting up “yeah whatever kid, are we leaving or not?” he makes his way out not waiting for the two behind him “kid walked out like he’s the one driving” matt said, making nick giggle.

the three were on the way home from a long day, matt was yawning every chance he got and nick was already asleep in the back, chris on the other hand though had a huge grin formed on his face.

“matt can you drop me off at y/n’s?” chris said looking over at his brother “yeah sure” he said with laugh following after “what are you laughing at?” chris said confused “nothing, just knew that was why you were acting like a baby today” “yeah whatever dickhead, just turn right here”

you hear a knock at the door, then suddenly your phone goes off, a text from chris. “im here ma” you smile and go to open the door, the second its slightly open chris barges in pinning you against the wall kissing you like he’ll never get to see you again.

he kicks the door closed and locks its before wrapping his arms around your waist, you can feel him through the rough material of his baggy jeans. fuck.

before you could even tell him something he has you over his shoulder in a tight grip before making his way to your room “someones eager” you say with a giggle.

“can’t believe you, sending me that picture in the middle of my meeting, such a fucking tease baby.” he pins you down to the bed, settled right between your legs before trailing his hands up your shirt (his shirt)..

finally shuffling you out of your clothes so you’re in nothing but that pretty lace from earlier, the tension between you two is making your stomach tighten and between your thighs wet.

him being fully clothed while you’re basically bare under him makes your head spin, wanting to see more of him you begin to play with the bottom of his shirt. “please chris, wanna see you..” you whine “yeah sweetheart? go ahead then, take it off” he smirks as you start to slip his shirt off, running your nails down his chest you feel him shiver. “watch it ma.” he warns as your hands go down further to his prominent bulge poking through his jeans.

“i need you so bad baby..”

“poor girl, so fucking desperate for m’cock.” the sound of his belt buckle clinking and his jeans ruffling off is the only thing consuming the silence between you two, he finally removes the only thing keeping you from seeing all of him and you can’t help but gawk at him. “got nothing to say now, huh? you know starin’ is rude mama.”

you roll your eyes and wrap your hand around him, stroking him at a teasingly slow pace. “just admiring you baby, y’so big..” you bite your lip and look at him through your lashes. “you’re so good fuck-“ he groans while fucking back into your hand, small whimpers leaving his lips encourage you to speed up.

“yeah? look at you.. fucking into my hand, y’that desperate?” your thumb smears the pre-cum around him, your lips make their way to his tip giving him small kisses.

“please-please mama” his hips begin to slowly move, trying to force more of himself in your mouth. quiet whines can be heard as you feel his heavy hands settle on the back of your head, you smirk and sit up before he can take things further.

“n-no baby please! i.. i wont touch you o-or anything-“ next thing he knows you’re on top of him and his back is against the headboard. “you need me that bad? look at you about to cry, all because you need to cum. fucking pathetic.” your voice harsh as you settle down on his lap, your hand caressing his rose tinted cheeks while he continues to squirm underneath you.

you lift your hips and begin to sink down onto him, a quiet hiss leaves your lips from the stretch — you grip onto his shoulders to stabilize yourself.

“shit-” chris’ grip on your hips tightens as he guides you further down onto him, your whines now being muffled as you dig your face into his neck.

“chris.. f-fuck”

“what’s wrong now pretty girl, what happened to that attitude you had a couple of minutes ago huh..?” his condescending tone making you squirm as you rock your hips trying to get some relief. your lips travel down his neck leaving open mouth kisses and bites the further down you go, drunk on the way his hands grip your waist and the way he feels inside you.

“j-just fuck me chris! ple-please” those words alone gives him all he needs to start thrusting up inside you, his tight hold on you lifting you up slightly. “c’mon pretty girl, cant let me do all the work yeah..” he teases you as his other hand comes up to grip onto your jaw, making you look directly at him.

you start to bounce up and down, your moans growing louder by the second each time you slam down onto him. chris wasn’t so quiet either — loud grunts and groans can be heard from him as mumbles of your name and praises leaves his mouth.

“good fucking girl ma, doin’ such a good job f’me sweetheart- fuck!”

your pace starts to slow down, the burning in your thighs starts to get too much for you. you make your way up to his neck once more, leaving your mark in various places that he will for sure see in the morning. the thought of the red and purple splotches traced around his neck and collarbones makes you clench around him.

your movements are barely doing anything by now, leaving chris to do all the work as you get closer and closer to coming. “always makin’ me do all the fucking work huh? greedy brat. always getting whatever she wants isn’t that right?” he taunts as he flips you two around, your legs on his shoulders as he starts fucking into you faster and harder.

“o-oh shit! fuc-fuck me chris please, m’so close baby please!” your babbles becoming incoherent as he hits that spot deep inside you that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. “go ahead mama, come for me. take this dick ma, s’all yours.”

legs shaking as he continues to fuck into you, your hands grip his curls and bring him down to a sloppy kiss. needing to feel him in any kind of way what so ever, you pull back to let out a loud moan as you clamp down on him and release all over his cock. “theree ya’ go mama, goodd girl. my beautiful girl look at youu” he praises.

his groans getting louder tells you he’s close, trying his best not to come before you. he always made sure you came before him, in his words “gotta make my girl feel good.”

“where you want it ma?” “i-inside baby please!” he groans one last time as he feels you clench around him and that was his breaking point, he cums inside you with a proud smile slapped across his face.

his thrusts slow down as you both come down from the high, he starts to pull out before he hears you wince. “you good ma? did i hurt you-“ “no no baby m’fine just- a little sensitive” you give him a tired smile as you lay your head back feeling like you could fall asleep any second now “i fucked you that good then huh?” his smirk making you roll your eyes and throw the nearest pillow at him.

“chris if were not in that shower in the next 2 seconds you’re sleeping on the couch i swear to-” you say joking (half joking) “ok ok damn no need to get all bossy w’me ma, c’mon lets get you up” he’s now off the bed as he picks you up holding you like a baby. “you’re washing my hair i hope you know that” you tell him with a smile.

“yes i know that, when have i not?” he says confused as he smiles at you half asleep in his arms “my sweet girl, i love you so much” are his last words before walking into the bathroom.

- avery’s note ˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡-

i finallyyy finished this fic omg. i hope you guys like it!! i love bringing dominic fike into any conversation i can. i feel like i could’ve wrote more but i had no real fics for chris.. anyways byee i love youu ᥫ᭡ !!

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - @submattenthusiast @chrissv4mp @ellaapsworld @jetaimevous @mattsbrowser @55sturn

[sanemisstalker]

NSFW /// KNY characters who I think cum particularly hard/ a lot. This could have a part two, I'm eepy, srry.

CW/ Non specific gendered/genitalia reader / Cum... like an insane amount of cum / BDSM Dynamic (ENMU)/ Light Gore (ENMU)/ tbh, Enmu. / Cum-swapping (AKAZA)

Sanemi Shinazugawa

-Cums hards AND a lot.

-Sanemi isn't quite sure why is body is the way it is, maybe it's his breath control mixed with the insane amount of testosterone and panic pumping through his veins on the daily, but Sanemi doesn't struggle to get it up.

-he struggles to stay flaccid. He's far more likely to be hard at any given moment. Not that he's excited, his dick is just permanently stuck at half mast. It takes an insane, highly emotional amount to get him entirely flaccid.

-I think Sanemi's orgasm absolutely shreds him everytime, unanimously. Does that stop him from getting it up in another ten minutes? Absolutely not. I just truly think he's a medical anomaly.

-He cums prematurely, but what does it matter? It literally didn't go down, he's still fucking going, now he's just like, in tears about it.

-I think Sanemi's eyes get really wide and he gets lock jaw, and he seethes and he tries to hold back any noise, but it just shreds the poor guys throat, and now he's sore, and it hurts him to moan, but he just can't help it, you feel so fucking good- and all for him? It's all for him?

-Shakes. Sobs. Sounds incredibly desperate, don't let the facade fool you. If he loves you, he's a crier.

-Also physically cums a lot. Not just by how many orgasms, but by how much each time is. I think he's got an obnoxiously low set of balls. He's made to breed, the poor bastard. If he can't let go in you, both of you are covered in it by the end of the night.

-Sanemi has yet to tap out before you.

Kyōjurō Rengoku

-Cums a lot.

-Rengoku has good stamina, but once he cums, he's done for, no more. He can keep going if he really wants to, or if you look like you really need him, but chances are the first round wad more than enough.

-vocal, but in a fatherly way. Sex with Rengoku is probably very... comfortable.

-Until he cums and now you're sticky from your chest to your upper thigh. The range of his shot is insane. He cums buckets, and he barely blinks. His breathing gets a little ragged, and his chest a little shakey, but that's it.

-He needs to go night night after, though. Feeling any amount of joy that doesn't come from stuffing his face does a number on him emotionally and physically. He needs a cuddle and a conversation about... idk, taxes after.

-Won't beg to cum in you, but really, really wants to.

-He always pulls out like a gentleman (if you can be much of a gentleman when you're balls deep), but you can always tell that he wants to see your face so bad when he pumps you full.

-Will not ask. That'd be rude.

-Talks you through your orgasm, but that's another post for another day.

Enmu

-Fuck, I just know he's a screamer. He cums so hard.

-This guy's a fucking mess, but it takes work.

-Enmu is such a good submissive that you're always shocked when he decides to mouth off to you, or when he forgets a command. Not too shocked, though. It's very clearly intentional. It always is.

-He gives himself a bit in between each 'screw up' to make sure he's edged himself mentally properly (very hard, he's almost always some kind of aroused, and he's prone to cumming untouched, so that build up is a little diificult.)

-While he doesn't struggle to ask for things, and his dignity is subzero, Enmu still appreciates a stray chase here and there. After all, it's the only thing mentally stimulating enough for him to cum.

-In any normal dynamic with Enmu, he isn't often left using his dick. So when you've got a spear through his wrists, locking them behind his back, one hand pulling his hair, the other jerking his cock with thoughtless speed-

-Enmu can never cum harder than when he's recieving borderline abuse. His dick looks irritated, going untouched for months previous, and now it's receiving all this attention. Can you blame him for being this loud?

-His legs shake, his whole body recoils. He drools and screams- laughs and wails. He cries with the brightest smile you've ever seen. His hips buck up. You're not being gentle, and he's so, so happy. The orgasm is ripping through every nerve in his body.

-He feels like he's in the sun again.

-He's hoping Muzan can see him look so pathetic. You're just hoping the demon lord stays out of your man's head.

Akaza

-cums like a horse.

-a lover, truly. That's the only word encompassing enough to describe Akaza's efforts sexually. He's a fantastic lover.

-... who can go for hours... days even and never get tired. Every orgasm blows off his shoulders- It's all about you. It always has been, it always will be.

-You've made him cum hard before, it's a rarity, but it's possible... Its just nothing feels as good to him as watching you cum, so he'll do whatever must be done-

-and if that means pumping you full again and again, until you're leaking from every accessible orifice, so be it.

-He'll lick your hole clean, reveling in the way you twitch after your.... you lost count after the fifth one. That won't stop him from tongue fucking you.

-His cum tastes... shockingly good. You like to give him head, and then come up to give him a kiss. He'll pull your tongue down, wanting to see it in your mouth just before you swallow. You always look so proud of yourself. He can't help but reward you with a kiss before you even get it down.

-there's way to much for one swallow. You can barely manage to keep all of it in your mouth while showing him. Your effort is precious, though.

-Akaza looks really good with cum on his lips. It's one of the only times you see him really flustered.

[rafey-baby]

sweet treat 2

construction worker!rafe who spends his days ‘lifting heavy stuff and building shit’ and driving shy!reader home, shows up on her doorstep in the middle of the night...

c/w: fluff, smut: slight somnophilia, dry humping, p-in-v, 18+ mdni!

wc: 2.7k

so this story was supposed to be just a small drabble consisting of a few silly sentences but then i got a bit carried away..

series masterlist

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

It’s past midnight when her doorbell rings, making her brows furrow. She throws the fluffy covers away, immediately yearning for the warmth of them as she pads her bare feet along the chilly hardwood floors of her apartment.  

No one has ever been at her door this late, which makes her hesitate. Maybe it’s just her neighbor asking for sugar, she tries to reason, as if the retired elderly lady living next door would even be up this late. For all she knows, it could be a criminal who’s escaped prison, holding a bloody knife at her. 

Curiosity ends up getting the best of her (as always) when she gingerly opens the door, mentally preparing to face a serial killer.

However, all her worries wash away like pollen under rain when she realizes it’s Rafe standing tall before her. 

“Oh, hi. What are you— what are you doing here?” a surprised look paints over her countenance.  

“You forgot this in my car, thought you might want it back,” he smiles, holding out a phone to her, the pale yellow case making her realize it’s her phone. She almost doesn’t recognize it, since it appears so tiny in his massive paw, almost like a miniature version of the device she’s grown accustomed to.  

“Oh my god, I was looking everywhere for it, thought I was gonna have to buy a new one,” she takes it from him, a grateful smile etching her features.  

“Yeah, couldn’t exactly call,” he shakes his head at his terrible attempt at a joke. 

A delighted giggle escapes her throat, nonetheless, eyes crinkling and teeth poking out; forcing the corners of his mouth to lift up as well as he finally takes in her appearance; a worn-out t-shirt a few sizes too big and…well, that’s it.

She’s not wearing anything else and he’s trying his hardest not to stare at her plush thighs, or the way the hem of the shirt slightly climbs up, revealing even more skin as she rakes a hand through a messy head of hair.

She swallows nervously under his attention.  

Unfortunately for the both of them, he never ended up doing anything when she came over to his place last week and had him cook for her. He just felt so bad about initiating something like that when she kept yawning through forkfuls of pasta, eyes barely staying open as she complained about her limbs aching and how she was so exhausted she could sleep for an entire week after the particularly long shift she’d had.  

Which is why he simply drove her home after their late-night dinner and wished her a good night with a heavy hand on her shoulder before letting her get some much needed rest, telling himself he could be patient.

However, she’s not making it very easy for him when there’s only one piece of clothing covering her at the moment— she looks so sleepy and pretty he has half the mind to pick her up in his arms right now and slump down on her bed, crawl under crisp sheets and feel her lungs expand against his chest.  

“Uh, sorry, did I wake you?” he asks, suddenly worried he’s disturbed her serene slumber.  

“No, no. I mean, I was in bed but couldn’t really sleep so…” she trails off, desperately trying to come up with something to make him stay a bit longer; finding immense comfort in his assured presence.  

“Um, do you— do you want to come in? I could make you some tea or something?” she clumsily offers, not wanting him to go just yet.

His brows raise in surprise because she’s being uncharacteristically bold, making his mouth twist in amusement. 

“Actually, forget I said anything, you’re probably really tired and jus’ wanna go home, sorry, don’t know why I even—” she scrambles to correct herself, and now that sounds more like the girl Rafe’s grown accustomed to.  

“Nah, of course I’ll come in,” he cuts her off, stepping past the threshold before taking a look around her cozy home; picturesque paintings fixed on the cream-colored walls and leafy plants adding greenery to the small space. It’s cute, he thinks.  

She sets a steaming mug in front of him when he takes a seat around the kitchen table. And when she sits down on a chair next to him, he can’t help but stare at the way the bottom of her shirt rides up, revealing the tops of her thighs and allowing for the flimsy material of her panties to peek out.

He clears his throat.  

“You, uh, you have trouble sleeping a lot?” he tries to focus on something else, anything else while taking a quick sip of the searing liquid; nearly burning his tongue in the process.  

“Yeah…sometimes it’s jus’ kinda hard to shut my brain off after spending all day at the cafe. Like I try to close my eyes, but then the loud voices of customers and the clinking of plates keep replaying in my head and suddenly m’wide awake, you know?”

“Is there anything that helps?” he prods.  

“Um, I don’t know, I guess jus’ trying to think of something else or talking with someone else,” she mumbles out. 

“Oh yeah? So, what you’re sayin’ is that you’re just usin’ me right now in order to fall asleep?” he teases, grinning when he manages to drag out another giggle from her.  

“Guess I am,” her eyes glimmer like little stars when she blinks up at him.  

“Should I feel offended right now?” he jokingly huffs.  

“No, you should feel flattered, I don’t invite just anyone into my home at almost 1 am, just so you know.” 

He thinks he likes this side of her, all playful and sleepy; a lot less reserved than her usual fully rested and overly conscious self, more carefree. Maybe that’s the reason he lets the next words escape his tongue.

“You, uh, you into cuddling?” he asks, noticing how her eyes round out in surprise.

“Uh— I mean, probably if I had someone to cuddle with, but I don’t so…” she drifts off, not sure how to respond. 

“Wanna cuddle with me?” he says it so nonchalantly, and she doesn’t understand how he’s so indifferent about this whole situation when she feels almost dizzy; dazed mind reeling and her vivid heart tingling in her ribcage. 

“You, um…you want to? But wouldn’t it be weird?”

“Why the fuck would it be weird? I mean, we’re friends, right?” his brows crease. 

“Yes, of course we are, I just—” 

“Look, all m’sayin’ is that it might help you sleep, yeah? Having somethin’ else to focus on ‘n shit,” he reasons, making her realize she’s totally overthinking this when he’s simply trying to help.  

“You’re right, yeah, we should do that then,” she agrees before swiftly getting up on wobbly feet—nearly falling face first on the ground, if not for his strong grip on her waist steadying her, drawing a faint gasp from the back of her throat at the sudden proximity.  

“Easy there, sweetheart,” he chuckles, finding her eagerness to get into bed with him rather amusing.  

“Sorry,” she mumbles, a raspberry hue dusting over her cheeks.  

And that’s how they end up tangled in each other under her soft sheets, his beefy arms wrapped tightly around her middle— caging her in with mindless fingers toying with the hem of her shirt. His sturdy chest rises and falls against her back in tandem with his steady breaths, pacifying her; coaxing her heavy lids to flutter shut.  

“You good?” he murmurs into her hair.

“Mhm,” she blissfully hums, letting out a content exhale because he’s so warm and big— making her feel so secure and safe she thinks she wouldn’t mind doing this again.  

Soon, her mind begins to topple over the edge of reality, plummeting into oblivion; a far away dreamland where everything is upside down and the ether is evermore the shade of fluffy cotton candy.  

‘Sweet dreams’ is the last thing her misty awareness grasps onto before she’s in the tender embrace of a place where the sand consists of stardust and ecstasy.

- - - - - - - - - - -

She’s lethargic in her movements when she stirs from the abstruse blankness she seems to have lost herself in with Rafe’s heavy arm is draped over her waist, trapping her body into his.

The lines of her cerebrum are blurred and she’s not sure what woke her up because it’s still murky in her unlit bedroom— the pale moonlight gleaming through the slots of her curtains the only beacon illuminating the space.

Then, she feels it; something poking her from behind, pressing against her ass.

There’s a crinkle in her brow until her eyes widen in realization. He’s hard.

Rafe is hard and she can practically feel the culprit of his excitement since he’s only wearing a pair of boxers, having complained about getting all too hot during the night to wear anything more. 

She swallows.  

What is she supposed to do? 

She shifts against him, trying to untangle her limbs from his. However, her attempt is proved fruitless when instead of unchaining her, he lets out a low rumble— his grip only tightening around her smaller form.  

“Rafe?” she calls out. 

No response.  

“Rafe? Wake up.”  

Still nothing. 

She can feel his heavy breathing against her neck—bigger hands pawing at her hips every now and then and trying to pull her closer, as if they’re not already effectively glued together, leaving her no space to move.  

She’s already beginning to grow sticky between her thighs when he drags her against his cock again; seemingly stuck in some sort of a stupor.  

She can’t help but let out a faint mewl when her clit throbs, pestering for more friction since the soft fabric of her underwear is not even close to enough, more or less torturing her with the its cottony graze.

And that’s when Rafe finally stirs, the weight of his arm loosening like a tight knot unfurling, finally allowing for her lungs to greedily suck in the air of the quiet room.

“Shit— sorry, my bad,” his tone is gravelly, and she could swear some sort of birds begin flapping their wings in her tummy, jabbing at her insides in response.

However, he doesn’t pull away like she half expects. 

“It’s…uh— it’s okay. I mean…no worries, it happens,” she rambles with heated cheeks because what the fuck is she supposed to say to that? 

“Nah, s’fully my fault, jus’ had this, uh, nice dream,” he admits, voice coarse. 

“Oh. What was it about?” she inquires with a yawn, perhaps slightly too curious for her own good.  

“You wanna know?” his brows raise. 

She manages a hum.

“Well, there was this, uh, real pretty girl…‘n she had me in her mouth ‘n was lettin’ me do whatever I wanted,” he murmurs, a heady tone overlaying his response.  

“Oh.” She tries to appear indifferent, even if there’s a pitiful sprout of jealousy threatening to blossom in the pit of her stomach.

He lets out a breathy chuckle. “You’re silly sometimes, you know?”

He was practically dry-humping her just now, was he not? Why would he be dreaming about another girl when he’s got her right here? 

“So, what else happened?”  

“What else? Okay, then she, uh, let me do this,” he confesses at the same time as he grabs at her hips again before pushing against her, earning a whimper when she can feel how big he is through the thin material of her underwear. 

“Rafe…what’re you doing?” she asks through a whine— his blunt nails denting the exposed skin of her thighs.

“Got no idea what you’re doin’ to me, do you?”

“I— what are you…what’re you talking about?” her brain is foggy, unable to think straight when he’s so close. However, he doesn’t respond, merely continues the retelling of his dream.

“Then I grabbed her like this,” he lifts her on top of him in one smooth motion, as if she weighs nothing more than a piece of paper— shuffling her around until she’s straddling him, properly sitting on top of his cock.

Somewhere along the way, her inhale gets stuck in her throat, mindlessly moving her achy cunt over him and causing him to let out a heartfelt grunt.

“Needy little thing likes this, huh?” he helps her find some relief by grappling at her hips and dragging her over his cock— filthy groans escaping his mouth when he feels her wetness saturating the two layers of cotton between them.  

“Rafe, can you…”  

“Can I what, hm? Play with you a little?” he says while already slipping a hand in her panties; petting at her puffy clit, earning a surprised moan from her before she lifts up the hem of her shirt for a better view.  

“Didn’t know you were such a dirty girl. Gettin’ real fuckin’ wet from me just bein’ close to you, huh?” his thumb rubs lazy circles over her sensitive button, making her cry out as she presses down harder against his cock. 

“Shit, gonna come in my fuckin’ pants if you keep doin’ that…you wanna know what else was in m’dream?” 

She nods, frantic.  

“Pushed this little piece of fabric here to the side,” he says as he plucks at her underwear, doing just that. “And then, did this,” he mumbles out as he takes himself out, causing her eyes to round out when she looks down at it in his palm, mesmerized. He thuds the head on her clit— one, two, three times, and then he’s smearing it over her sticky folds, painting it up and down her soaked cunt.

“Rafe…” she whines, desperate to feel him inside her. Unfortunately for her, he’s feeling a little mean; pressing just the tip inside her tight hole, slowly pushing in and out and turning her into a whimpering mess.

The hydrangea blue of his eyes is locked to where they connect, fascinated. “Fuck, sweetheart, does that feel nice?” he asks, thumbing over her swollen bud, tucking his cock in a little deeper and forcing a loud noise to leave her throat.

“Feels so good, Rafe, think m’gonna…” she trails off, lids heavy as she stretches around him.  

“You gonna come already?” he chuckles, amusement coating his features while he keeps nudging his dick about halfway in and then out, never fully plunging it inside.  

“You feel so…can’t— can’t hold it,” watery droplets gather in the corners of her eyes, catching to her lashes as her teary eyes look into larimar and she keeps rolling her hips against him, chasing after a release. 

“Go on then, let me feel you soak my cock, yeah?” he encourages, and she doesn’t need to be told twice before she’s crying out and throbbing around him, hips stuttering as her cunt pulses and she’s unspooling on top of him. 

“There you go, fuckin’ give it to me,” he grunts, and all of a sudden, he feels his own orgasm approaching—rolling down a hill like a landslide. She’s squeezing around him so tight, he can’t help but thrust his hips into her, a guttural moan leaving him when he finally stuffs his cock inside her, to the hilt.

Then, he’s stilling inside her and groaning out when his cum gushes out from his drippy tip, coating her gummy walls in white, filling her to the brim— making her feel so full.

There’s so much of it, to the point where the sticky substance begins to seep out from where they’re connected as they both pant, trying to even out their breathing.  

She turns into something mellow in his arms, slumping down against him and burying her face in his neck as he draws sluggish circles on her back, calming her down with tender words spoken in gentle murmurs.  

She thinks she could die happy right now.  

“Did so good for me, shit, should do this more often, yeah?” he says with a sleepy tinge.   

And she’s completely out of it; head as empty as ever and merely managing a hum of agreement before she’s tumbling down a slippery slide right back into a nebulous slumber.

[boyfiechan]

[Between Blinds]

…or the one where you and your boyfriend move into the apartment across from a stranger who watches you like you're his religion.

Notes: I wrote this on the bus with a very christian lady staring at my phone, we should talk about the perks of speaking more than one language more often. And this got very filthy very fast. Voyeur!Jisung, Bang Chan x Reader Content Warnings: Male voyeur, AFAB reader, explicit sexual content, established relationship (Chan x Reader), implied Jisung x Reader, implied Chan x Jisung, implied threesome, masturbation (male), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, obsessive thoughts, oral sex (M&F receiving), edging, nipple sucking, overstimulation, creampie, jealousy, possessive thoughts, Jisung is both into you and Chan but no direct mention of his sexuality. [6.9k words]

At first, it was just the package. Just a plain cardboard box, unmarked beyond the usual scuffs of transit, awkward in Jisung’s arms as he stood outside his door staring at the label like it might rearrange itself into something that made sense. A minor error, meaningless on the surface, but he lingered there anyway, blinking at it, turning it over in his hands like it might confess a secret. He almost set it down on the floor, planning to forget it entirely, when the sound of footsteps came from the stairwell—steady, unhurried, a rhythm he’d come to know too well in time. That was the first time he saw him.

Chris. He remembered the name not because it was offered, but because of how it was delivered, on the tail end of a smile that was too casual, too intimate for a stranger, the kind of smile that made you feel like you were already part of something you didn’t ask to join. Chris had that unassuming warmth that drew people in without trying, a little breathless from the stairs, curls falling over his forehead beautifully, hoodie damp where it clung to his collarbone, the fabric of his t-shirt pulling faintly across lean muscle beneath and there was nothing theatrical about him, no arrogance, just a quiet ease that made Jisung feel off-balance in a way he didn’t like. Oh—yeah, that’s mine, he’d said, reaching out with one hand, scratching the back of his neck with the other, sheepish in the way people are when they’re used to being forgiven. The old owner mentioned the delivery guy keeps mixing the buildings up. Sorry about that.

His voice was sweeter than Jisung expected, not intimidating, but steady, calming, the kind of tone that could talk you down from a panic or pull you in closer just by dropping a few decibels. And then, before Jisung could process any of it—you appeared behind him, barefoot, quiet, wrapped in an oversized sweater that slid off one shoulder like silk, your eyes found his in the space of a breath, curious but unguarded, and he felt something catch low in his stomach, a flicker of heat he hadn’t braced for. Chris turned slightly, handed you the box without looking, and your fingers brushed as you took it. Jisung saw the way your lips parted to thank him, soft, polite, something like kind, and his mind emptied out. He smiled, maybe, nodded, said something automatic. He couldn’t remember.

What he did remember was the quiet afterward. The door shutting, the way the hallway felt empty in a different way now, like something had been pulled out of it. He told himself it was nothing, just a wrong package, a wrong building. Just a smile, just a look.

But after that, he started noticing.

He realized your apartment—also 4C, just like his—was directly across from his own. The street between the buildings wasn’t wide, barely more than a narrow passage of concrete, barely wide enough for one car to crawl through. Your living room sat in perfect alignment with his, like some architectural coincidence designed to feed obsession with large windows, flowing curtains always slightly parted, not wide open, but enough.

Enough for Jisung to see the way you moved through the space like you belonged there, like you'd always belonged there. The way you padded barefoot across the rug, sometimes with a mug cradled in both hands, sometimes with your hair twisted up and a pen tucked behind your ear, sometimes mid-laugh, phone to your cheek, your body swaying with the rhythm of a life well-worn into the walls around you. He noticed how you adjusted the pillows on the couch a certain way before sitting, how you always turned on the lamp in the far corner first, how you lit incense near the window and waved the smoke with your fingers like you were blessing the room.

And Chris—Chris moved differently. Deliberate, controlled, like every step, every gesture had already been measured out and accounted for before he even entered the room. He always took off his shoes the same way, lined them up neatly by the door, his coat went on the same hook every time, folded precisely at the collar and when he sat, it wasn’t just a boyish sprawl—it was a kind of quiet command, back straight, shoulders down, fingers steepled against his lips as he listened to you speak. There was no excess in him, no wasted movement as he poured tea without spilling and smoothed the blanket over the couch with an almost unconscious precision.

Yet, with you, something in him changed. Not slackened, he was still crisp around the edges, but softened, like the sharpness of him bent inward when he touched you. Jisung saw the way Chris brushed your hair back from your face, the way he pressed a kiss to your temple like a ritual, not routine, he watched Chris hold you with a quiet thoroughness, a kind of intentional care that never once looked performative, never rushed, never careless, always with a kind of reverence that made Jisung feel like he was intruding on something sacred.

At first, he kept his distance, just watched casually, leaned an elbow on his windowsill with headphones on, pretending not to be paying attention. Until it became routine. A quiet ritual of sorts, he’d turn the lights low in his apartment when the sun dipped below the skyline, phone forgotten on the floor as he curled against the frame, sometimes with tea, sometimes just with silence. He watched as Chris came up behind you at the stove, arms winding around your waist, lips brushing your neck, watched you curl into him on the couch, your body tucked against his like a second skin, watched the way Chris would tip your chin up when he kissed you like he couldn’t stand the distance of even an inch.

It wasn’t dirty, not at first, not really. It was fascination. Jisung liked watching how you lived, how you existed together, like the world didn’t press on you the way it pressed on everyone else. There was ease in the way you laughed, grace in how Chris followed you with his gaze like he never wanted to miss a single moment of you being you. That was the part that haunted Jisung the most, that gaze, that silent hunger in Chris’s eyes every time he looked at you, like he couldn’t believe he got to touch you, talk to you, love you.

At first, Jisung envied him—envied the way Chris moved through your world like he belonged there, thinking he wanted to be Chris, to have his steadiness, his place beside you, but that wasn’t it, it just wasn't. He didn’t want to be him, instead, he wanted to be there, in that space between you, with you, be part of the golden, honey-drenched world behind your windows, where everything looked softer, quieter, warmer than anything that lived in his own dim apartment, not just watching from the outside like some ghost of a boy stuck behind glass, half-alive in the flicker of someone else's intimacy.

He knew it wasn’t healthy. Knew it crossed a line, maybe several, but every time he told himself to stop, every time he pulled the curtain shut and tried to turn away, some small part of him whispered to look just a little longer, just until the lights turned off, just until the sound of your laughter faded, just until the window went dark again and he could pretend, for a few seconds longer, that he belonged to the world inside it.

It got worse by the second week.

That was when the heat really began to coil in his stomach—slow, molten, thick with something he didn’t want to name, something wrong in a way that didn’t stop him. It curled low and deep, anchored itself inside him like a hook, tugging every time he looked too long, every time he told himself he wouldn't and then did anyway. Jisung told himself he wasn’t a voyeur. That he wasn’t the type to press his fingertips against the glass like a starving thing just to get closer to something he could never touch, never deserve, but by the second week he had already memorized the slope of Chris’s spine when he walked out of the bathroom towel-draped and steaming from a shower, the way water clung to his shoulder blades, glistening in the hallway light as he stretched his arms overhead and cracked his neck, fluid, unselfconscious, clean in a way Jisung felt filthy just for witnessing. Unaware, or maybe indifferent, to who might be watching.

And Jisung watched. God, he watched.

It wasn’t like Chris paraded around naked, he was discreet at first, but there were slivers, glimpses. Moments when he moved from the bathroom to the bedroom with nothing but a towel slung low across his hips, droplets carving paths down the thick lines of muscle across his chest and stomach, skin pale, smooth, firm. There was a kind of animal grace in the way he moved, tense but lazy, like he could snap into motion at any moment but chose not to. And Jisung found himself staring—frozen, breath shallow—when Chris ran a hand through his wet hair and wiped at the back of his neck, exposing the hard cut of his jaw and the veins that ran like subtle roads down his forearms.

He wasn't sure if you were as innocent. Maybe you didn’t know you were being watched, maybe you did, there were nights Jisung couldn’t tell—nights when the way you moved felt too careless to be entirely unknowing, too precise to be accidental, but not deliberate enough to be certain. You would drift barefoot through the apartment wearing only that thin robe, the one that clung to your body like it didn’t quite belong to you, like it might slip off at any second if you breathed too deep, the one that fell just barely long enough to be decent, and even then, barely, he could see the shadow of your thighs through the fabric, the line of your collarbone catching in the lamplight, the slow bend of your body when you set something down and the way the robe shifted with you, slipping at the chest or parting just enough to make his throat go dry. As if none of it mattered, as if no one was watching.

There were nights when the distance between you and Chris seemed to vanish completely, when the gentle undercurrent of touch and glance gave way to something heavier, something Jisung could feel humming through the glass. It would start small, Chris brushing a strand of hair from your face, his hand lingering a moment too long against your cheek, your eyes would soften, your body would lean into his just slightly, almost imperceptibly, like gravity had a preference. And then you’d kiss him. Slow at first, like a secret, like you needed him to breathe.

Like every part of you had been made to fit into his hands, and he touched you like he knew it, kisses that started soft but deepened fast, turned hungry. Sometimes Chris would press you up against the wall near the window, mouths locked together, and Jisung would sit there, transfixed, pulse hammering in his ears, so hard and aching he couldn’t even look away. He knew it wasn’t polite, knew it was a kind of sickness, this yearning, but he couldn’t help it, it wasn’t just lust—not really. It was the way you fit. The way you moved around each other like you’d rehearsed it for years, the kind of chemistry that radiated off you both like heat from a fevered body.

He wanted it. Not just to see it—he wanted to be part of it, a hand on your thigh, your mouth on his neck, Chris’s voice, low and strained, in his ear, telling him where to go, how to touch you. He thought about it more often than he admitted, hand wrapped around himself in the dark as he imagined the weight of Chris’s body above him, the sound of your breath in his mouth, soft and sweet and desperate. And It scared him a little, how vivid the fantasies became, how natural it started to feel, like your apartment wasn’t across the street, but just on the other side of a thin wall. As if he knocked, really knocked, you might open the door and invite him in with a crooked smile and a whisper of, we’ve been waiting for you. He wanted you both, wanted to taste the way you kissed, wanted to feel Chris’s hand pressed firm to the back of his neck, grounding him, wanted to sink into your warmth and never come back out.

But the curtains always closed just before it went too far, always. Right when hands started sliding beneath clothes, right when your body arched into Chris’s touch and his mouth found the curve of your throat, the curtains would draw, soft and deliberate, and the golden light would fade, leaving only the outline of movement behind linen. A tease, a dream, a punishment that Jisung would sit in for long minutes, heart beating too fast, forehead against the glass, hands clenched white in his lap.

He’d never hated anything the way he hated those goddamn curtains. Those thin, useless things always hovering in that maddening in-between, whispering just enough of what he couldn’t have. They taunted him, soft, drifting folds, fluttering like breath against glass, like a veil over something sacred. Every time they shifted, they gave him just a sliver, a glimpse of skin, a shadow moving, the curve of a shoulder, a mouth half-parted, teasing, withholding, smirking in silk. He wondered how could a man hate fabric and yet, he did, viscerally, with every inch of him.

Until that night, were the curtains didn’t close.

It was past one, well past, the kind of hour where the city outside had gone quiet, even the neon signs dulled with exhaustion. The streets emptied like something sacred had settled over them, ans Jisung hadn’t meant to be awake. He’d told himself he wouldn’t look tonight, not again, not after how raw he’d felt the night before, sitting there in the dark with his chest heaving and his hands shaking, guilt eating at him like rot. But something tugged at him anyway, something that lived in the soft meat of obsession, that whispered just check, and he did. You were there.

The lights were dim, just the kitchen ones casting a low amber wash across the apartment, warm and hushed, like a secret, and Chris was home again. He must have been gone for a few days—Jisung had noticed the difference, the quiet vacancy in the space, the way you moved slower, like the air around you had thickened in his absence, but now he was back, standing in the kitchen barefoot, his shirt discarded somewhere out of view, damp curls curling over his forehead like he’d just stepped out of the shower or maybe the rain. His jeans were slung low on his hips, unbuttoned like he hadn’t gotten around to finishing undressing, like he didn’t need to. And you were against him.

Jisung stopped breathing.

You had your back to the counter, perched slightly on the edge, legs parted around Chris’s hips, your robe was gone—just a tank top now, one of his maybe, nearly sheer with wear, clinging to your body like it belonged there. No bra. He could see the soft press of your nipples through the thin fabric, and Chris had his hands on your thighs, fingers gripping just under the hem of your shorts, dragging you closer, slotting himself between your legs like it was the most natural place in the world.

And it wasn't much, not really, just kissing. But it was that kind of kissing, the kind that made heat pool low in Jisung’s stomach, that made his skin burn beneath his clothes and his throat tighten with something ugly and sweet. Chris moved one one hand to the back of your neck, tilting your head just right, the other braced against your hip as he kissed you slow, deep, filthy, like he was trying to taste the days he’d missed, like he was going to fuck you with his mouth before he ever touched anything else.

Your hands roamed across his back, dragging fingernails lightly over muscle, down his spine, anchoring him to you and Jisung could see the subtle roll of your hips against him, the way Chris groaned, actually groaned, into your mouth and pulled you in harder, as if he couldn't stand to leave even a sliver of space between you.

Jisung sat frozen, air barely moving in and out of his lungs. He felt fevered, too hot in his skin, like something shameful and electric was crawling through him knowing he should look away, should close the curtain, turn the lights on, snap himself out of it. But he didn’t, he couldn’t and he was hard, of course he was, but he didn’t touch himself just yet telling himself he wasn't like this. Just clenched his jaw, fists white-knuckled in his lap as his gaze stayed locked on the scene playing out behind that golden window like it had been staged just for him.

Chris’s lips were at your neck now, biting soft and slow, and your head tilted back with a gasp. Jisung could practically feel it. The heat between you, the way your bodies pulled at each other like magnets, like gravity had nothing to do with it. His eyes burned from not blinking, chest tight with the ache of it.

He should stop, this was the line he promissed he wouldn't cross, but when Chris dipped his head lower, mouth ghosting over your chest, and you arched into him with your hands tangled in his hair— Jisung’s breath hitched, and he leaned forward, so close to the glass now his forehead almost touched it. The curtains stayed open.

You slid off the counter like you’d done it a hundred times, thighs brushing Chris’s hips, your mouth still clinging to his like it couldn’t bear to let go. Jisung watched your fingers curl into the waistband of his jeans, slow, teasing, deliberate. You said something—he couldn’t hear it, but the words were pressed close to Chris’s mouth, your lips brushing his jaw, and whatever it was made Chris huff out a broken, desperate sound that cracked through Jisung’s ribs like a fault line.

Chris leaned back against the counter now, his hands braced on either side, chest rising and falling in hard, uneven pulls. He looked wrecked already, barefoot, shirtless, eyes half-lidded and lips swollen from your kisses. And you were looking at him like he was something to be devoured.

Jisung’s whole body tensed when you dropped to your knees.

It was slow, intentional, like something sacred, like worship. Your hands slid up Chris’s thighs, pushing the denim lower, revealing more skin inch by inch. Jisung could see the muscle twitch in Chris’s abdomen, his head tipping back with a soft shudder, eyes fluttering closed as your mouth trailed kisses along his hip, just above the waistband of his boxers. You were taking your time, drawing it out. Making him feel every second of your mouth on his skin. And Chris let you—he stood there, shaking slightly, hands tightening on the counter behind him, letting you have him.

Jisung’s breath caught hard in his throat, his whole body rigid with heat. His cock throbbed beneath his waistband, aching, pulsing. He still didn’t touch himself—couldn’t—but his legs pressed together unconsciously, his breath stuttering as he stared, helpless and hungry and burning.

Chris finally looked down at you, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, not pushing, just there, tender and possessive. You looked up at him as you kissed the inside of his thigh, your mouth so close now, breath warm against him. And he nodded—just once, slow, reverent, whatever passed between you in that moment, Jisung could feel it. The intimacy of it, the trust, the unbearable heat of knowing you were about to wreck each other in ways no one else ever could.

And then your mouth was on him.

Jisung’s whole body jerked. He couldn’t see everything—Chris’s hips blocked the view—but he saw the way Chris reacted. His fingers clenched in your hair. His head hit the cabinet behind him with a soft, stunned thud, lips parting around a moan Jisung couldn’t hear but felt. His hips bucked once, instinctive, and your hands smoothed up his thighs, grounding him, controlling him. You were working him slow, deep, obscene—and Chris looked like he was barely holding it together.

Jisung’s throat was dry. His heart beat like it was trying to claw its way out as he didn’t dare move, afraid that if he blinked, it would all vanish. That the curtains would snap shut, and he’d be left with nothing but the echo of Chris’s face, tilted toward the ceiling, lips parted in silent pleasure. He wanted to look away.

He couldn’t.

Jisung’s hand moved without conscious thought—palm pressing down hard over the bulge in his sweatpants, grinding slow, just enough pressure to take the edge off the sharp, aching tension coiled in his gut. It was shameful, disgusting, and he hated how good it felt, how right, like his body had been waiting for permission, like it had known from the start this was inevitable. Across the narrow stretch of night, in the golden-lit window, you were still on your knees. Still unhurried, still devastating.

Chris’s hand was in your hair now, holding you there—not rough, not demanding, but trembling with restraint. His chest heaved with every breath, shoulders taut, head tilted down just far enough to watch you. His lips moved—murmuring something, maybe your name, maybe a string of curses—and you moaned around him, the vibration making his hips jerk forward against your mouth.

Jisung’s hand pressed harder, grinding the heel of his palm against himself with a low, shuddering breath. He didn’t pull his cock out—wouldn’t let himself—but the friction was unbearable. It felt like his whole body was drawn tight around that single point of contact. His thighs were tense, jaw locked, forehead slick with sweat as he imagined what your mouth felt like, imagined the way your lips stretched around Chris’s length, the soft glide of spit down your chin, the obscene wet sounds echoing in the warm hush of your kitchen. Imagined kneeling beside you, your hands guiding him toward your mouth, your eyes glittering with invitation.

Chris pulled you off with a gasp. Not harsh—desperate,as if he let you keep going he’d lose control too fast. His cock glistened in the low light, thick and flushed and heavy between his legs, and Jisung made a sound low in his throat, breath catching. He palmed himself harder now, head tipping back against the air, thighs spread wider as his hips rolled into the pressure.

Then you were standing again, your mouth red and shining, your eyes half-lidded as you leaned in to kiss him. It was messy now—hot, gasping, sloppy, Chris gripped your waist and hauled you into him, your legs wrapping around his hips as he lifted you onto the counter. The tank top slipped higher, and Jisung caught a flash of bare skin beneath, the soft underside of your breast dragging against Chris’s chest. He pressed himself between your legs again, grinding against you through the thin fabric of your shorts, your hips rolling to meet him with a rhythm that was building, dangerous. Chris’s mouth moved down your neck, his hand sliding up your thigh, thumb tracing maddening circles along the edge of your underwear and you let your head fall back, baring your throat, moaning something soft that Jisung imagined was abreathless plea.

Jisung’s hips bucked, his hand was moving now, slow and firm through the soft fabric, trying to muffle the twitch of his cock and the spiraling tension clawing up his spine. He was barely breathing, completely still except for that rocking grind, that pulse of shame and hunger that had fused in him like something alive. He wanted to be between your thighs, wanted Chris’s hands on him, wanted to be crushed between you, used by you, owned by you. The image burned into his brain, red and bright and holy.

And still, the curtains stayed open.

Chris's hand slipped beneath your shorts, and Jisung saw it—saw your body jolt, your thighs twitch around his hips, your mouth part on a gasp that never made a sound but looked like it could’ve shattered glass. Chris didn’t rush. His fingers moved with purpose, with a confidence that told Jisung this wasn’t new—this rhythm, this need—but that it never got old, either, he knew you, knew every inch of you and he touched you like a man possessed.

Jisung pressed his palm harder over his cock, the pressure maddening, frustrating, almost not enough. His whole body burned—skin flushed, lips parted, breath coming in soft, shallow pants as he watched Chris's fingers work beneath the fabric. Your hips ground into him, chasing every stroke, your hands tight around his shoulders like you needed the anchor. Jisung couldn’t see what Chris was doing under there, not really—but he didn’t have to. The way your body writhed against him, the way your breath hitched and your back arched—God, he knew.

And Chris—fuck, Chris looked ruined with want. That heavy, dark hunger in his eyes never wavered, fixed on you like he could burn through you with just his gaze, his arm, corded with muscle and dusted in a sheen of sweat was locked around your waist, thick veins running the length of his forearm as he held you flush to him like it cost him something not to bury himself deeper. Pale skin flushed at the neck, chest heaving with every breath, his shirt clung to the ridges of his torso, the fabric damp and stretched across his broad shoulders and his mouth was at your ear now, lips brushing skin as he murmured things too low for Jisung to hear—things that made you whimper, made your spine curve, made your fingers dig into his side like you needed to hold on. His other hand cradled the back of your neck, fingers splayed wide, thumb stroking your pulse like he needed the proof that you were there with him, alive and shaking for him.

He kept you so close, so tightly pressed to him that it looked like even a sliver of space between you would’ve been unbearable. Your tank top had slipped from one shoulder, leaving the slope of it bare, and Chris dipped his head low, lips grazing the hollow between your collarbones, his teeth followed, dragging against your skin in a slow scrape, and the groan he let out was felt more than heard—raw, hungry, like he wanted to swallow you whole too. All the while, his fingers moved lower between your thighs with unrelenting focus, working you open with the same precision in his touch as in his stare, like he was memorizing every reaction you gave him, carving it into his bones.

Your head fell forward, forehead pressing against Chris’s, and Jisung’s whole body clenched at the intimacy of it. How close you were, how much you needed each other, how was more than just sex—it was like watching gravity itself bend to keep you tethered, like neither of you could bear the thought of being apart.

Jisung palmed himself harder now, biting his lip to keep from groaning. His cock throbbed, trapped in his pants, leaking, aching, he was so close to the edge he could barely see. Every drag of Chris’s fingers between your legs echoed in his bones, every soft grind of your hips made his own twitch in response, involuntary and shameful and so good. He could almost feel the heat of your bodies, the slick friction of sweat-slick skin, the sound of your breath tangled together as Chris lifted your tank top, just enough to expose one breast, and his mouth was on you a second later—wet, hungry, reverent. Your back arched, thighs squeezing around his hips, one hand tangling in his hair as he sucked your nipple between his lips and groaned into your skin.

Jisung whimpered, actually whimpered. His hand stilled, just for a second, like the shame had caught up with him—but the ache didn’t fade. The image was seared behind his eyes, hot and pulsing and real, Chris between your legs, your hands clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded, the desperate, grinding rhythm of your hips, the wet sheen of spit and sweat and need.

He didn’t want to come, not yet, ot like this, but he was so close—his thighs trembling, stomach tight, his cock leaking into his boxers with every shallow roll of his hips against his palm as he clenched his jaw, squeezing his eyes shut for half a breath, trying to hold on. But when he opened them again— Chris had pulled your shorts to the side, he was on his knees now, and your hands were in his hair, head thrown back, thighs spread wide and trembling— Jisung couldn’t look away.

He broke.

There wasn’t a single moment he could point to—no line crossed or switch flipped, just the slow, suffocating build of it, the pressure mounting minute by minute until it shattered through him with quiet, devastating finality. His hand slipped beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, skin on skin, hot and slick and aching and his breath punched out of him like he’d been hit. He curled his fingers around his cock, finally, desperately, the contact sending a bolt of pleasure through his spine so sharp it bordered on pain.

Across the gap, through that glowing rectangle of heat and shadow, you were spread open on the kitchen counter, thighs trembling, eyes half-shut. Chris had your legs over his shoulders, arms wrapped under your hips to keep you anchored, face buried between your thighs like he lived there and you—God, you looked like you were unraveling for him. Head tipped back, mouth parted, hand clutching at your own breast through your shirt, fingers pinching and pulling in rhythm with his tongue.

Jisung’s fist moved in tight, steady strokes, his thumb catching the slick at the tip, smearing it down as he exhaled sharp through his nose, eyes locked on your trembling form as his hips bucked up into his palm, quiet curses tumbling out under his breath. He didn’t even try to stop anymore, didn’t pretend. He was fucking himself to you—because of you—and it felt like he’d been waiting his entire life to do it. He imagined the way your thighs would feel around his head, the way you’d look down at him, fingers buried in his hair, whispering praise or filth, maybe both. He imagined Chris watching, not angry, mot jealous, inviting, holding you open while Jisung fucked you with his tongue, whispering in your ear how beautiful you looked with two of them between your legs. Maybe touching himself, maybe touching him, too.

His strokes got faster.

Chris was devouring you. His head moved in slow, hungry rolls, hands gripping your thighs like they were the only thing tethering him to earth as your hips lifted off the counter with every pass of his tongue, back arching, hands grasping at anything—his hair, the edge of the counter, your own thighs. One of your legs slipped, and he caught it easily, lifting it higher, spreading you further, like he wanted to crawl inside you and never leave.

Jisung bit down on the inside of his wrist to keep from moaning. He was fucking into his fist now, panting, feverish, cock slick, throbbing in his palm, and every soundless cry from your mouth made him squeeze harder, stroke faster, chasing the edge with dizzying speed. Chris pulled back for a breath—his face wet with you, lips swollen, eyes dark, he said something—filthy, judging by the look on your face and you reached for him instantly, dragging him up into another kiss, tasting yourself on his mouth.

Jisung whimpered aloud. He was close, so fucking close, pressing his forehead to the window, breath fogging the glass, his fist pumping slick and hard. You were rolling your hips against Chris now, grinding against the thick bulge in his jeans, your bodies moving together like instinct, like gravity, like sin. He could see the outline of your soaked underwear, the twitch of your thighs, the glazed, desperate look in your eyes.

Jisung's hand moved faster, tighter, the heat of his palm soaked through with slick, every stroke sending sparks ricocheting up his spine. His breath came in shallow, broken gasps, lips parted, sweat sticking to his temples, the waistband of his sweats digging into his hips. He was right there—right fucking there—his toes curling, thighs clenching, that tight electric coil in his gut threatening to snap. One more stroke and he’d fall apart.

But he didn’t.

He couldn’t.

He stopped.

Choked on the pleasure like it was smoke in his lungs, fingers trembling as he hovered on the brink of release. The ache in his cock was unbearable, pulsing, angry, but the guilt clawing at the edge of his consciousness tasted even worse. His stomach twisted. His whole body rebelled against the denial, twitching with frustration and need as he squeezed the base of his shaft hard, biting down on his lip so sharp he tasted blood.

He shouldn't, but still, he watched.

Chris was back between your legs, one arm locked around your waist to keep you close as he rutted against you, still clothed, his cock grinding into your soaked panties through the thin denim. His mouth was back at your breast, kissing and sucking and moaning into your skin while you clung to him like he was the only thing tethering you to the world, your tank top was halfway off, your thighs spread wide over the counter, the waistband of your shorts bunched at one side, giving Jisung teasing, impossible flashes of wet lace and flushed skin. You rolled your hips with each drag of Chris’s cock against your center, your face open and needy and completely lost in it. You were beautiful, wrecked, gone.

Jisung could feel his heartbeat in his cock, throbbing, pulsing like it was trying to crawl out of his skin. His hand hovered, twitching, aching for friction as he palmed himself again—lightly this time, barely there—just enough to send another sharp, punishing jolt of pleasure racing through him. His knees nearly gave out, but he wouldn’t come, not yet. Not until he saw everything.

Chris pulled back just enough to look at you. His hand dragged down your stomach, slow and reverent, disappearing between your legs again as you cried out—mouth open, hips twitching—and Jisung imagined his fingers sliding through you, rubbing slow circles over your clit, spreading you open and working you like he owned you. He watched Chris lean in and kiss your throat, slow and tender, whispering against your skin and you said something back, breathless, smiling faintly through the haze.

Jisung let his hand fall away completely.

His cock twitched in protest, leaking, the ache twisting deeper in his belly like hunger left unfed. He wanted to scream, to beg, but instead, he pressed his forehead to the glass harder and let the edge swallow him whole, trembling and ruined and completely, utterly yours.

Chris’s hand disappeared again beneath your shorts, and this time your whole body answered with a sudden jolt, hips lifting, thighs tightening around his sides like they knew what was coming. Your arms looped around his neck, mouth brushing his, your forehead to his. The closeness between you felt unbearable even from across the street. Jisung could see the way you looked at him. Not just with want, but with this deep, surrendered sort of hunger. Like you needed him inside you just to breathe again.

Chris said something, a low murmur against your lips. You nodded.

That was it.

He reached between you again, this time with both hands, one tugging your shorts down to your knees, the other undoing his jeans. The sight was dizzying, hurried but still patient somehow, like he couldn’t help himself anymore but didn’t want to rush it either. His boxers slid low enough to free his cock, flushed and heavy, and Jisung sucked in a ragged breath as Chris stroked himself once, slow and tight from base to tip, his eyes locked on your face the whole time. You leaned back, bracing yourself on your elbows, your legs wide, panties askew, the wet shine of your cunt catching the kitchen light like something sacred. Chris lined himself up, and then—slowly, so slowly—he pushed inside.

Jisung’s breath caught like it had been yanked from his throat. His knees buckled slightly, one hand grabbing the edge of the windowsill to steady himself while the other slipped beneath his waistband again. He spat into his palm, quick, messy, desperate, and wrapped his hand around his cock, stroking slow, drawn-out pulls as he watched.

Chris sank into you with all the reverence of a man crawling into heaven. His jaw was clenched, eyes squeezed shut as he buried himself to the hilt, your body arching to take him, thighs trembling around his hips and when he bottomed out, hips flush against yours, hands braced on either side of the counter, he just held there for a second, like he couldn’t believe you were real, like the feeling of you wrapped around him was too good, too much.

Jisung stroked himself tighter, slick and slow, each movement winding that coil inside him even tighter. He couldn’t hear you so well—but he didn’t need to, he saw it, the way you gasped when Chris pulled back just a little, then thrust forward again with a slow, grinding rhythm. The way your eyes fluttered shut, your mouth falling open in a moan so soft and deep it looked like it could’ve been a prayer.

Chris set the pace, deliberate, devastating, each thrust slow and thick like he was savoring the drag, the way your body clung to him, the way you gasped just under your breath like you were trying not to fall apart too soon. He moved with maddening control, hips rolling with that signature, almost unbearable precision, like he knew exactly how to undo you and had no intention of rushing it. His brows were drawn tight in concentration, sweat sliding down his temples, jaw slack with restraint as he watched himself disappear into you over and over again, how the muscles in his thighs flexed with every grind, his abs tightening on every exhale, and there was something reverent in the way he held your hips like he needed the anchor.

And Jisung—God, Jisung wanted in. Not just to watch, not just to jerk off like some pathetic afterthought in the dark, he wanted to be there, between you, under you, with you. He wanted Chris’s hands on him, wanted to feel those strong, veiny arms pinning him down, that pale, sweat-slick chest pressed tight to his back while Chris fucked both of you open. He wanted to taste you where you were stretched around him, wanted to hear you beg with your mouth on his while Chris fucked you slow and deep and unrelenting.

But more than anything, more than anything, he wanted Chris—wanted to feel the weight of him, the heat of him, the strength in his thighs as they braced around him, the way his voice would drop when he moaned Jisung’s name. He wanted to be split apart on Chris’s cock, wanted to sob into the sheets while Chris held his hips and took him apart like it was nothing, like he belonged to him. He wanted to know how it felt to be the one under that gaze, those dark, hungry eyes locked on his face like he was the sweetest thing Chris had ever tasted. He was so hard he could barely breathe, the ache inside him sharp and deep and endless, and still it wasn’t enough—because he didn’t just want to watch, he wanted to be wanted, by you, by him.

One of your hands slipped down between your legs, fingers circling your clit in sync with his rhythm, and Jisung bit down hard on a curse, his throat tight with want. He could see how soaked you were, the way your slick spread along Chris’s cock every time he pulled back, glistening under the dim light, every inch of him sheathed in the evidence of how good he was making you feel. And the worst part—the most intoxicating—was how Chris looked at you: lips parted, eyes dark and drowning, completely gone for it, like the feeling of you wrapped around him was the only thing keeping him breathing. Jisung could feel it, the echo of your pleasure, the weight of Chris’s need, like it was his own, like he was the one being split open by that slow, relentless rhythm.

He pumped his cock faster now, his palm wet and hot with spit and precome, thighs tensing with every stroke. The wet sound of skin against skin didn’t reach his ears, but he could imagine it—could hear it in his head, along with the imagined moans, the whimpers, the broken cries of his name that Chris would drink from your mouth like they were everything he’d ever needed.

From across the dark gap of air and glass, Jisung watched, broken open.

His strokes had grown frantic. Not messy—purposeful. His palm was soaked, his thighs trembling, every pull of his hand slick and tight and cruel. His forehead stayed against the window, fogging the glass with each ragged exhale, breath syncing unconsciously to the rhythm of Chris’s hips slamming into yours. He was past shame now, far past hesitation, he couldn’t stop, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Inside the golden-lit kitchen, you were close—so close—your fingers gripping Chris’s back, hips twitching each time he bottomed out. Your head dropped back, eyes fluttering shut, mouth open on a moan he couldn’t hear but could feel. as Chris’s hand slipped between your bodies, and the moment his fingers touched you, your whole body arched, taut and sharp as a bow drawn tight, and you broke.

You came in his arms, gasping, shaking, your body trembling with release and Chris held you through it, breathing harshly against your neck, hips slowing but not stopping, like he needed just a little more, just a few more thrusts. He kissed you hard, sloppy, full of tongue and teeth and something deeper, and then it broke.

He came too, Jisung saw it, felt it, like a tremor in the air, a ripple that broke the tension in Chris’s body all at once. The way his spine arched, taut and straining, every sculpted line of him trembling as he sank in deep one final time, hips grinding flush against you in a slow, desperate press. His mouth fell open on a ragged gasp, eyes screwed shut so tightly his lashes trembled, sweat catching in the curve of his brow. Muscles locked, back flexed, chest heaving, he poured into you with a groan so guttural it seemed to tear from somewhere deep inside him, something unguarded and almost broken. His jaw clenched hard against your shoulder, stifling the sound like it was too raw to give voice to, while his arms caged around you like he’d fall apart if he let go. Every inch of him, his shaking thighs, his trembling hands, the way he clung to you like you were the only real thing left in the world, made it impossible for Jisung to look away, he was glowing and wrecked all at once, every breath caught on the edge of a prayer or a curse, and that—that impossible sight of Chris undone—was what unraveled Jisung.

He came with a stifled sound punched into the crook of his arm, his hand pumping hard, his cock jerking between his fingers. It hit him like a wave, violent and full, his hips bucking, breath breaking as he spilled over his palm and into the waistband of his pants, vision blacking at the edges from how long he’d held it back. It was dizzying, blinding, delicious. He tipped against the window, chest heaving, sweat cooling on his skin and inside the apartment across from him, you and Chris held each other in the dim kitchen light—still tangled together, still panting, still glowing in the aftershock of what you’d shared. Jisung wiped his hand absently on his shirt, but his eyes never left the view.

Not even when you finally reached out, smiled at him lazily, and pulled the curtains closed.

[hotchnerwrites]

Hiii🤍

Can you write something where Hotchner is obsessed with the reader but in a good way, like he can't keep his hands off of her???🥹maybe if you feel comfortable you can put a situation where he feels a little jealous,I love it so much when men are possessive in a gentle way with their partner!!!

Take this only if you feel comfortable, I send you my love!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: SFW, touchy obsessed Hotch, jealous Hotch, quiet intimate moments, domestic fluff ehehehe, no use of (y/n), reader is referred to as girlfriend/wife a couple times, established!relationship

A/N: My dear Anon, I am so sorry for the wait. I hope that this will be worth it. Some crazy stuff was happening in my family and I had to fly out of town last minute. I started this in my Notes app, and here we are, three versions later. I loved this request so much, I always jump at the chance to write fluff (or angst!). I had such a fun time writing. Oh how I wish Hotch was real :') Anyways, I really hope you like it! Enjoy reading 🤍

PS. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and consider this my gift to you <3 Sending all of you all my love. Requests are open :) Send me stuff!

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

Smart, stoic Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. One of the BAU’s best profilers. One of the best prosecutors Washington D.C. has ever seen. Permanent frown on his face and an impenetrable emotional wall, he was not known to wear his heart on his sleeve. It was a persona he had spent several years cultivating. But they didn’t know him like you did. They didn’t know how he was around you, how he looked at you. It wasn’t just that— it was the way he moved around you, the quiet insistence that you were always close, always near.

You first realised how present Hotch was at the FBI’s annual Christmas gala. It was so subtle in the beginning, the way Aaron threaded through the room with you, a steady hand on your back, palm warm against your skin. It was the kind of touch that was imperceptible to anyone who wasn’t paying attention. But you felt it the entire night, four and a half hours in total. He didn’t let go of you once.

Despite this being the first formal event that you attended with Aaron, you never once felt anxious navigating the sea of handshakes and pleasantries. You met at least twenty new faces in under thirty minutes, forgetting names as fast as you learned them. Aaron’s hand was on your waist the entire time, steady and protective, guiding you through conversations, fending off curious coworkers with a soft, almost unnoticeable shift of his body between you and them. It was effortless- he even managed to hold both your drinks in one hand when you passed him something. 

By the end of the night, you realised something. You weren’t just his girlfriend; you were his partner, a quiet and unspoken claim that he did not need to announce.

The second thing that you noticed was the neck massages. It didn’t matter if Hotch had just come home from a week-long case or if it was a lazy Sunday. The moment he found you with your back to him - whether at the kitchen island, curled up with a book in an armchair, or even napping on the couch— he would materialise silently, his large hands moving to the nape of your neck.

It was a gentle pressure, expert fingers kneading the tension in your muscles. This was intimate in a wholesome way. He knew your body better than anyone, maybe even yourself. His palms were calloused and rough, but when they were touching you, it felt like the finest silk on earth. 

When his hands drew delicate circles, your world would fade away in contentment. Sometimes, Aaron would press his lips lightly against your temple. These quiet moments are as precious to you as special nights out. 

The third time was the ‘Lunch Incident’. You laugh about it now, but it’s not lost on you how lucky you are to see this side of Hotch. It was supposed to be a simple lunch drop-off at the office. As you greeted Emily and Derek, Aaron strode over towards you, legs moving so fast you’re sure his brain hadn’t even fully processed his actions. His smile when he saw you wasn’t just a casual ‘hello’ but something deeper, something more felt. And when he pressed a soft kiss against your lips, with that signature intensity, you noticed Agent Anderson nearly dropping his coffee in pure shock. The poor man, having just witnessed Hotch, the ever-professional Hotch, kiss his partner like he had no other care in the world, had gone pale. You couldn’t stop the grin stretching across your face. Hotch didn’t stop looking at you the entire time. Sometimes, he couldn’t believe you were real and that you were his. 

The fourth time, you just knew. It was a ritual, the movie nights. When you settled on the couch, ready for your favourite period film, you already knew how it would go. Ever so meticulous, Aaron would drape your favourite blanket over the two of you. But there was just something about the way he did it. He pulled you to his side, wrapping an arm around your shoulders like he needed you there more than he needed to breathe. And you’d fit yourself under his arm, cosy and safe, while the movie played. But truthfully, it was never the movie that held his attention. It was you. The way you reacted to every scene. The tiny furrow between your brows when something sad happened or the way your eyes sparkled during particularly romantic scenes. Aaron would never say this out loud, but he couldn’t care less about the films you watched. He cared about you. Watching you breathe, tracing circles on your shoulders, memorising the feel of your skin under his touch. He was always watching you, though you never caught him. 

And Hotch never made a big deal about it, but you knew those small touches meant the world to him. He was the profiler, but you noticed his antics too. When you handed him something, his fingers would always brush yours, slow and deliberate. You felt that electric spark dance across your skin each time, like he was quietly staking his claim. You always pretended not to notice, but in truth, you were just as addicted to those touches as he was. The way his hand lingered for a second too long, soft warm spreading from his touch. The kind of touch that made you feel like you were the only two people in the room. 

Honestly, it was getting ridiculous. He set his alarm early every day, just to spend an extra couple of minutes cuddling you. The moment that familiar tune rang out, he’d shift his broad frame, tangle his limbs with yours and pull you closer. Aaron never wanted this to end. So much so that he called in sick a few times, citing your refusal to free him from your clutches as the reason. But you both knew it was because he wanted to feel your hands card through his hair longer as he dozed on your chest. Neither of you said much during times like this. Still groggy from sleep, you both would just bask in each other’s quiet comfort. 

One day, when you were cleaning up his desk, you found it. The secret file. Tucked away in the back of one drawer lay a brown file with your name on it. You really hadn’t meant to snoop, but curiosity overrode manners at that moment. It wasn’t until you opened it that you realised what it exactly was. It was every story you had told Aaron about yourself, and every detail he noticed about you. Likes. Dislikes. Pet peeves. Your dreams. Your favourite songs. The small things—things no one else would have thought to note down, things only someone who really knew you would remember. He’d colour-coded it, as if it was a map of your soul.

You hadn’t meant to look through it, but when you did, a lump formed in your throat. It wasn’t a secret—just his way of keeping you close. And you realised, with a sniffle, that you’d never felt more cherished in your entire life.

When winter would roll around, you realised that despite spending years with this man, you could never quite predict when it would happen. But every time it did, you pretended to protest. Hotch would press his palms under your shirt, claiming that his fingers were frozen. This was always an assault on your senses. “I’m freezing!” you’d yell, but you knew what he was doing. He wasn’t trying to warm his hands. He wanted to feel your skin against his. You never pointed out the fact that his palms were always warm within seconds, that his body was a natural space heater. No, instead, you let him pull you in even closer, shivering as his hands traced light lines up your spine. You didn’t mind it at all.

Bonus

There was only one time that Aaron used his Unit Chief voice around you. It was something he had always been careful to avoid; he hated bringing any aspect of work home with him. But it was warranted that time, he justified. 

He had just stepped away for one second from your side at the local café. The barista had just called out your names, and he had gone to pick up your drinks (black coffee for him, surprise, surprise, and a ridiculously sweet frappé for you). In those few moments that he was gone and you’d been standing alone, staring wistfully at the pastries on display, a man had sidled up to you. He had a patchy ginger beard, and with a reedy voice, he had asked you if he could buy you coffee. In hindsight, the man had been perfectly polite, but Aaron’s blood had boiled. You had a gobsmacked expression on your face as you struggled to respond, and the man had stepped even closer. Aaron quickly snatched up your order and made his way to you. 

“Here’s your drink, honey,” Aaron said, voice low but tone soft. You gratefully accept the distraction as the man swings his head towards Aaron incredulously.

“Excuse me,” he began shrilly, “do you mind?”

Aaron fixed him with a Look. “That’s my wife you’re talking to. Can I help you in any way?” He said coolly. 

The man baulked, muttered a quick apology and scrambled off. 

As you and Aaron leave the café hand-in-hand, you can’t help the smile forming on your face. You tuck your face into Aaron’s bicep to hide your blush. 

Wife. Not girlfriend. Wife.

The sun suddenly shone brighter that day.

Thank you for reading. Likes, reblogs, comments and follows are appreciated! Constructive criticism is welcome :) Do not plagiarise my content and/or post it anywhere without crediting me.

[ryescapades-archived]

*ੈ‧₊༺ "SHE LOOKS JUST LIKE A DREAM,"

⤷ submission for @pixelcafe-network 's Secret Santa event !

— vice-captain hoshina seems to frequent the infirmary lately... perhaps it has something to do with the division's beloved medic.

characters: hoshina soshiro (kn8) x medic!reader contents: fluff, some injuries and blood, one(1) suggestive line but it’s for the plot, smooching, kind of getting together, slight spoilers for b side manga, inaccurate manga timeline wc ~ 1.8k

a/n: @purpleqilinwrites happy holidays from me, your secret santa ! 🎄 not christmas-themed but i hope you can still enjoy this humble gift i’ve prepared for you (see the end of this for more messages) <3

Remembering and differentiating people’s faces is usually something that comes naturally to people.

Be it your distant, distant relative, or a newly appointed work colleague, or even a fellow customer at a cafe you love. It’s easy enough to memorise each and every one of them, given that you’ve seen them a few times consecutively, of course.

Then again, it comes with the job to have a good memory anyway. Lots of scientific and biological names to be remembered, health conditions and symptoms to be identified, patients you constantly need to keep your eyes on. You have them all etched inside your mind.

There’s also that other circumstance, where forgetting someone’s face is as easy as brushing away a speck of dust from your clothes. People come, and people go. Not everyone that you’ve come across will stay in your life, and not every one of them will become a significant part of it either.

There is one thing, however, that you have stumbled upon, not knowing that it will become both of those things. Or rather, one person.

The first time you saw him was at the hospital right after the kaiju emergence at Ome city back when you were still a measly apprentice to a senior medic from the Third Division. Tasked to do one of his checkups, you’d overheard his conversation with your captain right before she left the ward.

His reaction baffled you, to say the least. Who in the world would reject a position offered by the Captain Ashiro Mina herself? After a thorough yet uneventful inspection on his condition, he was deemed to be discharged from the hospital a few days after, and along with that his presence from your mind.

Or so you thought.

The second time you saw him was a bit more coincidental. Months after that, when you were freshly appointed as one of the Third Division’s operational medics, you had accidentally crossed paths with him on the way to Captain Ashiro’s office, unaware that you were in the face of your soon-to-be Vice-Captain.

You didn’t know how, or why, but for some astronomical reason you’d remembered who he was. There were lots of people you’d bumped into in the past, people you’d medically treated, and people with even worse haircut (in your defense, that was only a mere observation on your part); you had no trouble putting them to the rear end of your mind as you knew they were nothing more than encounters by chance.

Aside from the fact that he’d rejected your captain’s offer, you’d wondered if there was something else about him from that first time that had rewired the very foundation of your brain chemistry to make you remember him as clearly and easily as memorizing the back of your own hand, even when you’d only seen him once before in your entire lifetime.

Unbeknownst to you, Hoshina Soshiro thought the same thing about you.

What is it about you, Hoshina had once mused. What made you so… unforgettable? Your presence had been lingering in the back of his mind from the moment you first laid your hand on him. After you’d left his ward months ago, the image of you has been foggy and indistinctive, almost haunting for him to deal with. And now that he had you in front of his eyes again, he was more than determined to know more about you.

The two of you hit it off then. One friendly conversation turned two, turned weekly, turned daily. Lingering touches, longing gazes, secret smiles, flirty quips. And the most unambiguous of all; the time spent together in the medic bay at any hour of the day.

It’s becoming a routine at this point for the Third Division members to see their second-in-command walking through the doorway of the infirmary with an injury or the other, some of them severe and some were barely considered a prick. The officers have suspected something, of course. But none of them are bold enough (yet) to confront nor pull the topic out in the open.

And so do you and Hoshina himself.

Though you’re totally aware it’s only a matter of time before one of you finally breaches the blurring line between platonic and romantic. Ironically enough, Hoshina with all his foxy eyed glory, seems to be the one to (not so) blindly step over the said line, all too keen on wiping it off like a silly drawing on a sandy shore.

“Hey there. Ya seem happy to see me,”

You grit your teeth at the cheery greeting, irritation piling over the concern and worry, overstacked by the fear wrecking through your body. Taking a deep breath to gather yourself, you step to the side to let the officers carry the battered body of the Vice-Captain to sit on a nearby bed. Soon enough, they walk themselves out with a respective nod to their superiors, leaving you in the still silence of the infirmary.

In your peripheral, Captain Ashiro stands beside the door with her arms crossed, a calculated look stuck on her youthful face before she straightens up, calling out to your name. “I’m leaving them in your care. I’ll be back in a few though,” Confused, you’re about to ask about what she meant when a mass of white fur enters your vision.

Bakko is staying here for a while then, you realize just as the Captain, too, makes her exit to the door. You let the feline kaiju make himself at home in the infirmary as you return to the task at hand; treating Hoshina.

Your next course of action proceeds swiftly and methodically; assembling the medical supplies and equipment, assessing the injuries, disinfecting the wounds and dressing them accordingly. All the while trying not to squirm under his obnoxious gaze.

“You were never this quiet before,” Hoshina breaks the silence, grimacing slightly as you’re currently treating one of his more severe wounds, one that requires stitching.

Your forehead creases slightly, “What do you want me to say?” You question, both in exasperation and incredulity. The swordsman lifts his good shoulder in a little shrug. “I dunno. Anythin’,”

“You’re stupid,”

Hoshina’s lips twitch slightly, “Mhm,”

“And reckless,”

A small smile tugs on his face next, “Yeah?” Slowly, and breathily.

“And - and… you weren’t being careful enough,” Your bloody hand shakes, the scissors you’re holding barely cutting away the remaining thread after you’d successfully managed to stitch his wound up. “Okonogi already said it was a daikaiju and you still insisted on fighting it alone. Who the hell does that?” You seethe.

One of his hands moves to hold yours, halting you just as you'd turned back from putting your equipment away. “You mad at me, sweetheart?” His nonchalant drawl causes you to snap. “I thought you were going to die, Soshiro. Of course I was mad!”

Suddenly there’s a quiet growl rumbling from the corner of the room, and the both of you immediately go silent. You look to the side to see Bakko with his mouth pulled into a menacing snarl, eyeing the other slumbering patients as if to remind you that you’re not the only ones in the room.

You huff, slightly embarrassed at being chastised in your own work space. By a kaiju, of all things.

Hoshina gruffly snickers before glancing at the feline, “He’s not Captain Ashiro’s companion for nothin’, huh? Think he can help around in the infirmary?” He jests.

You chuckle weakly, nodding a little at his injuries. “What, do you want him to lick it all better?”

It was supposed to be a joke, a casual inquiry made to lighten the mood, but Hoshina seems to think otherwise. With his bleary eyes, he murmurs, “I want you to lick it all better,”

Your breath stutters, the heart in your chest skipping a beat or two. Or maybe three? You can’t really seem to figure it out when all you know is that the blood pumping in your veins feels like you’re running a goddamn marathon around the division base.

Your body heats up at the way Hoshina’s gaze remains focused on you, those irises seeping with such intensity and passion, finely rich like wine and sangria. There’s a pull so magnetic, the minimal space where you’re starting to share breaths with him is charged with the tension between the two of you.

Your eyes drift down to his mouth for one quick second. A mere glance, shy and timid. And the next thing you know, you and Hoshina become a clashing of lips, wandering hands and blissful sighs.

Like a collision between two worlds; the connection feels intensely mind-blowing, like a surge of adrenaline that has you forgetting about everything else aside from feeling him, tasting him, consuming him. Your fingertips tingle from where you’re cradling his face in your hands, and electric zaps up your spine from where his hands are gripping you by your hips.

Your lips slide against his in a feverish dance, his tongue diving in to explore each and every crevice of your mouth. Another pleased sigh escapes from you when he nips at your bottom lip, soothing the skin with a gentle suck right after. Hoshina hums against your mouth, pulling you to stand even closer between his legs but a pained groan from him then makes you draw back, the desire to continue ravishing each other now replaced with a budding sense of concern.

“You’re pulling on the stitches,” you mutter, fingers lightly prodding at his medically patched skin. Hoshina shakes his head slightly and drops it to rest on your shoulder as he grunts under his breath, “You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that.”

You falter, a furious blush creeping up to your cheeks at his statement. ‘Why didn’t you do it sooner, then?’ You’d wanted to ask but just as he raises his head, you catch sight of the bloody handprints on both of his cheeks. You gasp in surprise, “Soshiro, you’re—”

You reach up to hold his face, though when you see your own hands stained with the blood from his wounds, a small laugh of realisation comes out of you. Hoshina snorts a little when he deduces the same thing, the room now filled with your combined giggles.

“All the more reason to stay here longer and get myself cleaned up, hm?” He smirks and leans back with his arms perched on the bed. You gnaw at the bottom of your lip, staring not-so-subtly at his slacked figure.

More work for you to do… not like you’re complaining anyway because he does not have any business looking so sinfully good with all those muscles and bare skin all roughed up and bloodied like that.

You inwardly shake your head to disperse the thought. Throwing him an eye roll, you scold him for moving around too much in case his injuries get worse, and that he should know better than to stay out of commission for longer than necessary considering his importance in the division.

Deep down, though, you’re glad that Hoshina Soshiro is there with you in more ways than one, holding your hand as you trudge through this new relationship blossoming between you two.

He stays, and he is significant. Forever will be in your lovesick little heart.

taglist open!

bakko is just there like 👁️👄👁️

💌 ; kaija my dear i’m so happy that i get to know you through the cafe network <3 really enjoyed all the convos we’ve had in the kn8 channel and i appreciate u sm !! you’re so sweet and so delightful to talk to and i thought that you are just the perfect person to be soshiro’s favorite doctor / nurse ^^ you seem like the type who'd be good at taking care of people, especially your loved ones. bet he goes to the infirmary a lot just to see u hehe (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) anyway, i hope 2024 has been nice to you. i wish you all the good things in the world, and that 2025 will be a better and sweeter year for you, love 💜

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[michanvalentine]

Of course, Astarion wants to ascend. He wants it so much, it’s as clear as day. He has never hidden how much he ideally likes the idea of power—to elevate himself from his current position, to ensure his safety, to bend others to his will (instead of being the one who is bent). And if he can also walk in the sun and never feel the hunger pangs again, even better!

But let’s not forget that Astarion has a limited worldview. Cazador himself says it in one of his confrontations with Tav/Durge: "He is afraid. He is afraid because all he has ever known is you and me, and without us, he is nothing."

Astarion does not have a well-developed sense of self, and by default, he also lacks many of the skills that a well-adjusted adult should possess. So, to navigate life, he can either rely on the worldview presented by Cazador (power, power, power, and more power—to place himself above others) or the one offered by Tav/Durge, assuming they are a heroic figure. Otherwise, the only perspective left is that of power, and Ascending becomes almost natural in an evil playthrough (which I myself did in my villain run). Ascending Astarion in a good playthrough, however, seems completely contradictory to me, but whatever…

Let’s not forget that power is not Astarion’s driving force—power is only a means to an end. His real driving force is fear, as both Cazador and Scleritas emphasize. He would do anything to feel safe (like becoming a half-Illithid if scared enough by Tav/Durge—even though he rejects that idea with every fiber of his being, and yet…). The scene with the dryad, Naoise Nallinto, in Astarion’s origin run makes it crystal clear: when she uses her power on him, among all the possible choices (wealth, respect, power, etc.), Astarion’s personal wish is to feel safe, not power—even though power is explicitly one of the options. But it’s not his!

Oh, and Astarion himself spells it out, right before the final decision between Ascending or not. His exact words: "One final thrust, and I'll be free of you. I will never have to fear you again. And if I complete the ritual you started, I'll never have to fear anyone. Ever."

Everything revolves around fear, which is once again emphasized in the insight check—where it becomes obvious what is driving him and what is simultaneously holding him back from making a rational decision. Because while it’s true that he wants to ascend, he also wants to redeem himself. Well yes, it's shocking, folks, but two completely opposite desires can exist within the same person. They're called internal contradictions, and we all experience them every day or almost ("Oh, damn, I want to go out with my friends tonight, but I also want to just lie on the couch and watch TV").

Let’s not pretend this character is one-dimensional and that all these dialogue lines don’t exist when discussing Astarion. Of course he wants to ascend—he wants it so badly. The point is understanding why he wants it. And then questioning whether giving in to that fear is truly worth it, considering the consequences and what he would be giving up (because even Ascending comes with its own sacrifices, and I’m not even talking about his soul or the 7,000 people).

That’s why, if they choose to, Tav/Durge can intervene and make him reflect on the alternative (which, depending on how you play your Tav, could have been introduced to him from the very beginning of the adventure—it’s not something that just comes out of nowhere, unless you’re playing completely incoherently).

And it’s Astarion himself, in one of the most beautiful dialogues in the entire game, who explicitly states this lesson he has learned. When Durge is overcome with despair and fear—just like him—and tries to end the relationship, Astarion says: "This little adventure of ours has taught me that we can't let our lives be ruled by fear, or else we'll never truly live."

He has understood. He has grown. He has accepted that uncomfortable emotion and has decided not to be consumed by it—to choose for himself without letting fear dictate his actions. And I couldn’t be prouder of him.

One last thing, because I’ve seen it repeated a lot on social media: Ascending is not Astarion’s lifelong dream—it is Cazador’s dream. Astarion didn’t even know this kind of ritual existed until five minutes before it happened, so no, Tav/Durge is not cruelly ripping away his lifelong dream just for the sake of moral superiority. And above all, they are not forcing him to give it up—but I’ve already talked about this before, and I’m not going to repeat myself.