#//he really needs to be comfortable in his own skin before he does a lot of anything else. or at least he thinks he needs to be

[malfoy-mrsdracomalfoy]

Trouble In Paradise

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Girlfriend!Reader

Warnings: Slight angst, occasional cussing

Word Count: 4588

Summary: Draco and Fem!Reader bask in their lavender haze. Until a third party comes into the picture.

Reader's Point Of View:

"You know, I never thought I'd be this... domestic." Draco admits softly, standing on a shared shower mat with me- both of us in fluffy white towels. The shower's steam still fills the bathroom, fogging up the glass shower doors and the mirror above the sink.

"I never thought you would be, either." I say, voice soft and playful.

He chuckles. "Shut up." He says, but I know he doesn't mean it. Instead, he pulls me closer, wrapping his arms around me and holding me tightly. "I like it. With you."

"You're a changed man, Draco Malfoy." I say with a soft chuckle, tracing his jaw. "Do you know you have a really nice bone structure?" I trace his cheekbones and nose. As I attempt to pull back, his hand catches mine before it can fully move away from his face, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss.

"And you have a really nice way of making a man comfortable enough to be vulnerable." He admits softly, leaning into my touch. "But what the hell are you doing to my face?"

"I'm just seeing what my children will look like." I say, feigning casual cool.

He bursts out laughing, genuine and heartfelt, totally disarming. His arms tighten around me. "Are you seriously trying to imagine our hypothetical offspring based on my facial features right now?" He asks, amused. "That's..." He smiles softly... "oddly adorable."

"Enough of this mushiness." I say, pretending to shiver before unraveling from him, heading to the mirror to scrunch dry my hair.

He watches me walk away, a soft smile on his face. He follows me towards the mirror- his waist clad in the white towel as he shakes his hand through his hair to dry it. I side-eye him for a moment in jealousy because of how easy is it for him to dry his hair. Can't relate. He leans against the wall, watching me in the mirror.

"You know, for someone who just washed my hair and body with the utmost care, you're not exactly being affectionate." I giggle.

"Ever heard of a 'black cat girlfriend'?"

He laughs softly. "No, can't say I have." He says, pushing off the wall and walking over to me. "But I assume it involves a lot of independent, uninterested behavior?" He asks, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"Spot on." I chuckle, placing my hand on his arm momentarily before dropping it, "But you know what?"

He begins to kiss my neck gently, his arms tightening around me. "What?" He murmurs, his voice low and soft against my skin.

"You're a 'Rottweiler Boyfriend' so we are a match made in heaven."

He raises an eyebrow, halting his kisses on my neck. "Rottweiler boyfriend?" He looks up, eyes catching mine in the mirror. "Protective, loyal to a fault, and a bit intimidating?" He says, trying to guess what the term entails. "I suppose that fits." He spins me around to face him- grinning down at me.

"Exactly. See why we are a perfect fit?" I gently press on his chest, signaling that I need to pass by. "Are you staying here tonight?" I ask, heading towards the closet. His eyes follow me before his body does.

"Yeah." He says, joining me in the closet. "I'll stay." He leans against the door frame, watching me pick out pajamas. "Unless you're kicking me out?"

I hand him a pair of boxers and a silk sleep set I have here for him. "It's nearly 2am. It would be borderline cruel to kick you out, wouldn't it? To trek across campus?" I drop my towel, stepping into my silk pajama set.

His eyes follow my movements appreciatively, and I roll my eyes affectionately when I take notice. He smirks at being caught before he drops his own towel. "True." He agrees, stepping into the boxers and pulling on the silk sleep set, buttoning up the shirt. "Though I'm sure I've made that trek plenty of times before."

"True." I concede with a small laugh before turning towards him. "You do mean when you're leaving me right? Not some other dorm?" I say, slightly teasing.

He steps closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Only ever you." He says, his eyes locked onto mine. "You're the only one I want to be making that trek for." He reaches out to tuck a loose wave behind my hair.

"I was only teasing, but that's good to know. Let's go to bed?" I pick our towels up and throw them into the hamper before heading to the bed. Still at my ankles, he follows me to the bed, climbing in and pulling me in after him- right into his arms. He settles into a comfortable position, holding me close to him. "Good night." He murmurs into my hair before pressing a gentle kiss there.

I trace his arm thoughtfully for a few seconds. "Draco? Are you asleep?" I whisper, tilting my head up to look at him. He shifts slightly to look down at me, his eyes already heavy with sleep but still warm and attentive.

"Not yet." He says, voice low. "What is it, darling?" His hand starts to rub gentle circles on my back. I decide he looks too sleepy to engage in any sort of conversation.

"Never mind." I kiss his nose. "Sleep well, my love. Goodnight." I gently caress him in the way that always lulls him to sleep. He hums once as my fingers work their magic before he nuzzles into my neck- his body relaxing deeply. "I love you." He mumbles sleepily before his body goes completely still. My touch always has that affect on him.

"I love you, too." I whisper, looking over his sleeping features adoringly.

He stirs slightly at the sound of my voice, mumbling incoherently before tugging me closer in his sleep. His breathing evens out and he sleeps peacefully, his subconscious knowing that he's safe and loved in my arms.

I grab my phone from the night stand, determined to get sleepy enough to fall into the dream world that Draco is so blissfully in right now.

After I grab my phone, I lay back down next to Draco, wrapping my arm around him, resting my head on his chest and using his chest as a makeshift table. He's like a human pillow- his body naturally molding against mine for comfort. Little does he know he's providing a perfect arm rest and table for me.

I absentmindedly use my free hand to caress his hair as I look through my socials. Silently, a notification pops up on my phone that catches my eye immediately. It's a message from...? Well, actually I don't know. I click on the message and when I'm redirected to the thread I'm met with an unsaved number.

"Hey there, beautiful." The message says.

"Who is this?" I type back, curious despite myself. I gently twirl a tiny piece of Draco's platinum hair as I wait for the response.

"No needs for names, sweetheart. I see you around school a lot. With Malfoy." The stranger messages back. 'Odd way to start a conversation.' I think to myself as my thumb hovers over the keyboard- debating how to answer.

"Is there a reason you don't want me to know who you are?" I text back.

"None at all. Just don't want to scare you off. So, you and Malfoy. Are you an item or just messing around?" I caress the side of Draco's head for a moment in thought before resuming my messaging.

"I don't scare easy. Come on, will you tell me your name?" I text. 'And why you're asking me about Draco so much' I think silently to myself. I wonder if it's a Slytherin girl. Merlin knows he caught all their eyes.

"Fine. It's Theo."

Unable to help it, my heart skips a beat for a second. I used to have a crush on Theo in third year. Pre-Draco.

"Oh! Hey, Theo. How did you get my number?" I respond.

"Got it from a mutual friend. Don't change the subject, y/n. Are you and Malfoy a couple or not?"

"Why do you ask?" I text back, curious why he cares so much.

"You're cute, y/n. And smart. Way too good for Malfoy if you ask me." Theo's message seems to have shifted to a more flirtatious tone. He seems to be testing the waters.

"Too good for Draco? No. He's actually a really decent guy, isn't he? You're friends with him for a reason."

"Hardly friends. Housemates more like. I know he's smart as hell, rich as midas, and a handsome bloke. As these things go, you know." The message pings through, but I spy the typing button moving so I wait for his second message to come through. "But he's also an arrogant bastard who never kept a girlfriend for more than a month. Hell, he didn't even call them girlfriends. Said it boxes him in."

I look at Draco for a moment before focusing my attention on my phone. "Well, those were mostly flings, weren't they?"

"Yes. Flings and meaningless hookups. Nothing serious. Which is why I don't understand why you're even with him. You seem like the type who wants something real."

I sit with his message for a moment- staring out the window across the room. The curtains are slightly waving as the breeze flows in.

It's true that Draco was never the commitment type. I look at him, looking over his serene features. He won't just throw me away when he's done with me, right? I hate that Theo mentioned this but I hate that I'm thinking like this even more. I look back down at my phone, feeling slightly vulnerable.

"You think so?"

"Yes. Noticed how you're different from all the other girls he's been with. You're not one of those shallow birds."

I glance at the time in the top left corner of my screen- it's after 3am. I tap the top of my phone gently for a moment before I respond.

"Why are you up? It's 3am."

"Can't sleep. I've been thinking of you." I smile softly. I can't sleep right now either, and I'm glad to have someone to chat with.

"You want to know something funny?" I text back.

"Yes, tell me." Theo's response is immediate. He must be sitting on the text thread just as I am. At this late hour this conversation feels... intimate. A second message comes in- I guess i'm taking too long to respond. "So what's funny?" He adds in a thinking emoji.

"I used to have such a big crush on you in third year lol." My heart picks up speed temporarily- why am I nervous to admit this? It's been years.

"You're kidding?"

"No, it's true. I thought you were so handsome and funny and smart. That's saying something coming from me." I text back, adding a small laughing emoji to lighten the message slightly.

"That's adorable." Theo types back, "You have good taste. So... what happened?"

I glance over at Draco, still sleeping peacefully. "I figured I didn't have a chance with you, so I moved on."

"Fucks sake..." Theo types, "For what it's worth, you absolutely would've had a chance." I watch his messages come through, a weird feeling taking root in my stomach. "Imagine how different things could've been if you hadn't given up. Would you still have ended up with Draco if we'd gotten together then? If you hadn't given up, or if I acted on my own feelings."

I suck in an inhale. What a complex idea this is. My mind starts racing- at war with itself. A part of me feels curious for what could've been but the other part is so happy and thankful for Draco. I wasn't in a relationship with Draco back in third year. Not even in fourth. Theo could've been my boyfriend those years. Would things be different?

Draco shifts slightly and I see his sleepy blue eyes open, searching. He finds me almost immediately and once his brain registers I'm still next to him- his arm tightens around me and his eyes close once more. Then, his breathing evens out and he's fast asleep again.

"Yeah, I think so. He's always been significant to me."

"I guess. But honestly? If we had gotten together... fuck. I would've tried to keep you all to myself."

I look at his message, eyebrows knitting together for a moment as I process.

"Truly?"

"Absolutely, yes. I would've made sure everyone knew you were off-limits. No other blokes would even be able to look at you without getting a beat down from me." A pause as he types his second message, "And I would've made sure you were always taken care of."

I stare at the message in shock. It's very hard to imagine Theo harboring these feelings all those years back. How was I never aware? Especially if they were this intense.

"You just reminded me of Draco."

"Is that so?" He types back, "Have you ever had a bloke treat you right? Properly spoil you?"

I caress Draco's face lovingly for a few seconds, my chin on his chest as I watch his eyelids flutter while he dreams.

"Are you asking if I've ever been treated like a princess?" I type back, slight smile on my face as I rub back Draco's hair- thinking of all the times he has indeed spoiled me.

"That's exactly what I'm asking. If you were mine, I'd treat you like one. Flowers every day, surprise dates, all that. You'd never want for anything."

This throws me in a loop for a moment.

"How about love letters?" I text back, joking with a silent laugh.

"Hell yes. I'd write you love letters that would make your heart race. The kind of letters that would make you melt just by reading them. Would you want something like that?"

"If we did properly date back then, I think it would be nice occasionally. I wouldn't expect it but it would be a sweet surprise."

"What if I told you I did write you some things back then?"

My jaw drops in shock and I type a quick response back.

"Theo, are you being serious?"

"Yeah, I am. I'd sit in my room at night, thinking about you and just let my feelings pour onto parchment."

My heart tugs at the thought of him just sat there, head full of me.

These are the type of conversations you can only have late at night. Before the harsh light of the morning creeps in- making you swallow your thoughts and feelings once more.

"That is so lovely. I wish I could see them all."

"I'll owl you them if you promise to keep them safe."

This caught my attention. I take a minute to look at the message, heart slightly pounding. Do I really want to see these? Of course I do. They are about me, after all. Determined, my fingers fly over my keyboard.

"Of course. I promise."

"No one else can see them. They're basically a fucking diary."

"Yeah, I'm sure they are very personal and you feel the need to keep them private. Send them over only if you feel comfortable enough."

"With you... I feel comfortable. You've always been so warm and welcoming to me. It's one of the reasons I fell for you so hard." The message sits on the thread for a moment before another one pops in. "I'm going to send them now."

"Okay, I'm looking forward to it." I text back, stretching to set my phone down on the bed stand, quickly and quietly unraveling from Draco's grip to head towards the already-cracked open window. I glance out onto the dark grounds, eyes looking for nothing in particular until a warm yellow light catches my attention.

I see Theo. His silhouette shows in his window- he's bent over, retrieving something from the ground that is out of sight. When he stands, I see a box in his hand. I watch him do a small gesture and his owl flies over to him, landing on his shoulder. He shuffles slightly and I'm met with his back for a few seconds. When he turns- I notice a stack of aged parchment in his hand and I watch as he pulls off his black silk tie.

He neatly stacks everything, then uses his tie to pull them together. I watch him run a hand over the parchment stack once, looking down at it in what I could assume is his final parting with this very personal part of him. Giving him a moment of privacy, I avert my eyes and pull up the window so it's fully open.

I glance over at Draco- he's shifted to be on his side, his back facing me- his hand placed on the spot where I was laying. I turn back in time to see Theo hand the pile to his owl- turning to open his window. He freezes when he spots me in my own window looking out at him.

For some reason I feel incredibly nervous, but I lean slightly out my window- giving him a wave and a smile. His face breaks into a huge grin and he leans out, too. He waves back just as his owl flies off his shoulder- heading right to me. I give Theo one final wave before stepping aside so his owl can land easily.

She lands smoothly on my window sill, tilting her head to look at me for a moment before dropping the stack in. I quickly reach over to my owl's snack tray- offering her a treat. She takes it then promptly flies out- right back onto Theo's waiting arm.

I pick the stack off the floor gently- as if it's a newborn baby. I glance over at Theo's window but he's not there anymore. I close my window- taking one last look over to Theo's dark dorm before closing the curtains.

Draco's soft snoring fills the room as I sit cross-legged on an armchair. I gently caress the black silk tie that was just on Theo's chest and gingerly untie the stack. Setting the tie aside, I start on the pile.

As I begin to read, my eyes widen. I find poems about my eyes, my smile, my laugh. Love letters detailing how much he admired me, how beautiful I was, how much he wish he could express his feelings or even just hold my hand. The messages go on and on- each one more heartfelt than that last.

I tiptoe to the bed stand, grabbing my phone before turning back to the armchair, sitting silently and tucking my legs underneath me.

"Theo, these are so heartfelt. Thank you for the beautiful pieces."

"Stop. Just stop reading them." The messages come quickly, like he's suddenly panicking about how vulnerable he's being. "You'll hate me tomorrow. I was fucking obsessed with you." His typing becomes frantic. "Destroy them." I set a letter aside as I grab my phone with both hands to reply.

"Wait, Theo. Why? I'm not judging you or anything, I swear it. I love them."

I collect all the parchment, carefully tieing them back together with Theo's tie before setting the stack on my lap.

"I'm not ashamed of them." He replies after a few minutes. "I'm ashamed about how I felt. Like I was stalking you or something. I don't want you to think I'm some obsessive creep."

"I don't think you're an obsessive creep and I won't start thinking that when the morning comes, either. Please don't be ashamed of how you felt."

Theo doesn't respond immediately. When he finally does, his message is simple and heavy with emotion. "I loved you, y/n. I still do." The thread notifies me that he's silenced notifications.

I look at the screen- rereading the message- feeling discombobulated. I set my phone down, absorbing all the information. My stomach tugs with several different emotions, and there's an ever present wistfulness hanging onto me. I set the letters aside, placing them on the small table near the arm chair. When I set them down, I catch a whiff of something masculine so I lean towards the pages- the smell is coming from Theo's tie. It's his cologne.

Feeling restless, I decide I need to move.

I pace silently for a few minutes before glancing at the time- it's after five in the morning. Had we spoken that long? It felt like minutes. How long have I been pacing? I will myself to stop, heading to the bedside table and plugging up my phone.

I climb into bed, lifting the comforter and slipping under it- it's warm from Draco's body heat. I lay on my side- looking towards my phone thoughtfully before I feel an arm wrap around me. I stiffen a moment before remembering where I am and who the arm belongs to.

Draco pulls me flush against his now-bare chest. He must've gotten hot and shedded his shirt at some point. He cuddles up to me, laying his head on the side of mine, his chin resting on my shoulder. He's back asleep as soon as his skin touches mine. Calmed by his warmth and smell- Draco lulls me to sleep.

Second Person's Point Of View:

Hours pass and Draco stirs in his sleep and reaches to grab his water off the bed side table. Your phone lights up at the accidental contact and a single notification catches his eye- a missed message from Theo. He sent you a final parting message sometime after you fell asleep. It reads, 'And I don't think I'll ever stop'.

Curiousity piqued, Draco reaches out slowly, his fingers brushing against the phone as he picks it up. He unlocks the screen easily- his face already registered in your phone as a recognized person.

He swipes to the very top of the thread. His eyes scan the messages as he scrolls down. His expression remains neutral at first, but as he reads further, his brow furrows. He glances over at your sleeping form with storms in his eyes.

He stares down at the thread, mind reeling. He thinks of all the advances Theo gave to you and how you never rejected any of them. He thinks of your admission- you told Theo about your previous feelings. He rereads your sweet reassurances, telling Theo not to be ashamed of his feelings. His eyes catch a message that makes his blood run cold. 'I loved you, y/n. I still do.' Draco's barely contained rage wracks through his slightly trembling body. His breathing picks up tempo- his chest heaving.

His jaw tightens as his eyes scan the room for the letters Theo sent to you by owl. He finds them quickly. The stack of parchment is sat next to an arm chair mere feet away.

He quickly stands, not bothering to see if it wakes you or not and walks over to the stack- nearly ripping the tie as he takes it off. He looks over dozens of Theo's heartfelt writings that you requested to have last night. Draco's hand starts to shake slightly as he flips through the pages.

His expression darkens. He reads line after line of Theo's unrequited love. Well- not as unrequited as Theo thought- was it? The thought makes Draco's blood boil. He reads about Theo's deep feelings for you until he actually can't stomach anymore- throwing the parchment haphazardly aside- not even looking where they end up. He has half a mind to set them ablaze.

He turns his attention back to your phone and his knuckles turn white as he grips it tighter, mere seconds away from crushing it with his bare hands. He take a deep breath and slightly loosens his grip- not wanting to damage it. He paces the room quickly with his long strides, trying to be rid of some excess energy he's enduring lest it ends in a blowout. When he feels his rage subside some- he sets your phone back down on the stand, crawls into bed and stares at the ceiling- deciding what he's going to do about this betrayal.

You shift slightly, reaching out for Draco in your sleep. Once you find him, you curl your body around him- leg thrown over his hip and arm around his waist, head on his chest- full koala bear style.

His muscles tense as my body wraps around him, completely innocent, completely comfortable. He closes his eyes briefly, processing what he's just read. When they open back up, he reaches over and grabs your phone again.

He stays still for a long moment, your soft breaths against his chest. He knows he should put the phone down to avoid insanity, but he can't stop re-reading everything. He scrolls back up to the beginning of your conversation with Theo, trying to piece together every detail. His mind races with thoughts and emotions.

He reads your messages again, this time paying closer attention to your tone. He sees the warmth in your words, the gentle encouragement you give. Two traits he loves about you, but not when they're directed to another man. He swallows hard when he sees how Theo signed off. 'I love you, y/n. I still do.' - even though you didn't even respond. He wonders if the following 'And I don't think I'll ever stop.' would've made you respond had you seen it.

Draco's heart pounds in his chest as he realizes the significance of those last words you read. Theo declared his love for you, and you hadn't pushed him away or told him to shut up. Instead, you'd simply gone to sleep, content with the affectionate message while your boyfriend slept next to you.

You shift slightly, waking up briefly to press a kiss to the side of Draco's neck and to whisper "Love you." Before cuddling back into his chest and falling asleep again.

His heart skips a beat at your soft whisper and the gentle kiss. He freezes, phone still in hand, as he processes the contrast between your tender words to him and the intimate conversation you had with another man. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside him.

He watches you sleep, your face peaceful and soft. He's seen you like this a thousand times before- relaxed, loving, comfortable. But this morning, it feels different. This morning he's seen a glimpse into a side of you he never knew existed- a side that accepts romantic love from another man when it's offered without hesitation. He carefully places the phone on the bedside table, his mind racing.

He decides he needs space and carefully unwraps himself from you. As he stands he glances over at the mess he made- and with a quick flick of his wand- the stack of love letters and poems Theo wrote you become perfectly organized once more. Like they were never touched.

He gives you one last look before leaving out the door silently.

Reader's Point Of View:

I wake pretty late today because I went to bed at such an ungodly hour. I glance at the clock- it's nearly 3pm. I roll over to reach for Draco just to find an empty bed. I sit up, looking around the room sleepily until I realize- he's gone.

He left.

Author’s Note: Part two coming soon

Masterlist

[frodosrings]

SAMFRO SUMMER DAY 2: Sun / Heat

Don’t Fall Asleep by the River

Rating: G Words: <1000 Synopsis: Sam has to tend to a moody Frodo after he comes home with a sunburn. little domestic drabble!

"Frodo snapped his head around and wore his best pout, to which Sam grinned and placed a kiss against Frodo’s temple."

Read here or on ao3 :)

“Ouch, Sam! Touch it gently!”

A smirk formed on Sam’s lips as he continued to rub cold water and black tea on Frodo’s red shoulders. It amused Sam, how Frodo was only ever snappy when he had to pay for the consequences of his own actions, this time being a deep sunburn all over his back after he fell asleep by the river.

“Alright, darling, I’m going as gentle as I can. Any lighter and I’ll only be grazing you.”

“Then only graze; it feels as if you’re skinning me alive.” Frodo said in his now agitated voice. He sat with his knees pressed to his chest and his arms surrounding them, his chin on his knee as he stared out the window.

“Well, I suppose you shouldn’t have fallen asleep under the sun, hmm? Then I wouldn't have to touch you at all.”

Frodo snapped his head around and wore his best pout, to which Sam grinned and placed a kiss against Frodo’s temple. Sam continued to gently smother his homemade sunburn remedies along Frodo’s back and shoulders. Once a slick sheen coated the redness, Sam instructed Frodo to turn around and face him.

“Even your chest too? How did you manage to sleep like that, tossing and turning in the grass?” Sam couldn’t help but tease as he coated a washcloth in cold water again.

“I don’t need your comments, Samwise.” Frodo added, purposefully avoiding his partner’s gaze.

“My apologies, Mr. Frodo.”

Frodo frowned and shifted his eyes to Sam’s own. After officially getting together, Frodo told Sam to never speak as if the two weren’t equals. Frodo always hated it, how for so many years Sam felt as though he needed to refer to Frodo as if he were above him, purely because he worked for Frodo and Bilbo during the summer months. Frodo never saw Sam as someone who worked for him; Sam was always his friend, now lover, before anything else, but Sam was too formal with proprieties. Sam, of course, knew this very well and never referred to his lover as “Mr.” anything, except for when he was teasing. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, Frodo was in such a mood that he didn’t realize Sam was still playing around, and began to feel a pit of guilt growing in his abdomen.

“Sam, come on, I didn’t mean to be bossy. I’m sorry.”

Sam couldn’t help but chuckle, and gave Frodo a gentle kiss, this time to his lips, before caressing Frodo’s chest with cool water. “I know, darling, I’m only teasing. It’s not often I get to.”

“It was stupid of me, the sun just felt so good by the water.”

“I can hardly blame you, if I didn’t have to cultivate Fatty’s back garden, I would have slept right beside you.”

“That would have been nice— Ouch, Sam!”

Sam moved the washcloth away from a particularly burnt area on Frodo’s side and gave him an apologetic look. “I’m trying to be careful, really, you’ve just got it bad around here.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.”

“Stop apologizing, I understand,” Sam chuckled, “but I forgive you, if that makes you feel better.”

“It does.” Frodo smiled.

Sam continued to delicately rub Frodo’s burnt skin with the cold water and black tea. They sat in a comfortable silence while Sam worked away, only interrupted when Frodo would wince after a specific spot was touched a bit too deeply. After all was finished up, Sam stood and dumped out the bucket of cool water, along with the cold pot of tea, and shut the curtains to keep any warmth out. Frodo kept sitting on the floor, just watching, until he finally decided that he could get up and face the slight pain of his burnt body moving.

“Where are you going?” Frodo asked as Sam opened the front door.

“Back to work, darling, I came home for your little emergency, but I’ve still got lots to do for the Bolger’s. I’ll be home for supper. The curtains are shut, so it should stay cool in here for you.”

“You have to go?”

Sam grinned. “Well, I don’t think Fatty would be very happy with me if I never came back. It’ll only be a few hours.”

“Can’t it wait ten more minutes?” Frodo asked as he draped his arms around Sam’s shoulders. He was met with Sam resting his hands on his waist.

“Oh, what’s this now? Feeling bad about giving me attitude earlier?” Sam teased.

“Oh, come on, I’m not allowed to want to spend time with you?” Frodo teased back.

“A few hours, that’s all I’ll be, unless you have another dangerous emergency that needs my tending.”

“Can’t you tell him that I broke my legs or something? I want to be with you, and I’m all burnt, I can’t be alone. It’s very dangerous you know.”

Sam laughed. “Dangerous, is it? Well, I’ll have to tell Fatty that his garden must wait until the morning. Can you at least allow me to go and do that?”

Frodo nodded while he kissed Sam’s lips, half with love and half with thankfulness. “Yes, I can wait, I suppose.”

“Good. Go lay down, darling, if I’m going to tell Fatty that you’re extremely ill, you’d better look the part. I’ll be back within twenty minutes.”

“Okay, okay, I will.” Frodo smiled.

Sam watched as Frodo walked to the couch and laid down carefully, hissing softly when his red back met the fabric. He couldn’t deny Frodo anything, even if it meant telling a little white lie to get off work.

@samfrosummer

[bbokicidal]

SKZ [OT8] + Slow Makeouts

Comforting, steamy, and way too good to be real. <- Is what I would say if they weren't absolute virgins.

Warnings: Suggestive Content (MDNI) Genre: Fluff/Smut Pairing: Virgin/Inexperienced!OT8 x NB!Reader Notes: Back to my regularly scheduled programming of writing everyone's favorite: Virgin!SKZ.

Chris can't keep his hands off of you. If you're kissing, he's holding onto you; Your waist, your hips, sliding his hands into your back pockets. He's grabby with soft intentions, never too rough with his hands but always trying to keep you close to him. And all of this usually occurs shortly after he comes home from working late nights. He needs the stress relief - that being just holding onto you and feeling your tongue on his own. Granted it never really goes past this because he's too shy to ask you to do anything more but, one day you'll get there.

Minho is lost in the moment. It's actually a slow makeout. His tongue lathes over yours so slowly it's almost torturous, lips closing down to suck over the muscle before pulling back and looking up at you with dark, wanting eyes - and then doing it all over again. The type to sit still while you're in his lap because he knows if he moves he's going to get hard - and then what happens? He isn't sure he's ready for that yet so... slow kissing is good for right now.

Changbin can't keep his lips in one place. He's kissing your lips, over your cheeks, down your jaw and throat - sucking marks into your skin like he knows what he's doing even when he absolutely doesn't. But he fakes it, feigns the confidence and just lets his body do whatever the hell it wants while he leans into you where you sit atop the pool table. He'll take his time with you, careful and cautious about where he marks your skin so he knows you'll be able to hide it the next day. And even if it feels like he'll go further when he dips lower towards your chest, he won't - because he gets too shy and his ears burn red the moment his fingers dip under the hem of your shirt.

Hyunjin can't bring himself to do anything more than makeout because he just finds it so... intimate. It's so romantic to him. He loves the feeling of your lips on his - cherishing the warmth of your tongue until both of your lips are bruised and swollen from sucking on each other for hours. He'll let his hands wander a little - though his favorite place to rest them is politely on your waist. He's just a gentleman like that. (And.. a little unsure of where to go from there. But he'll just tell himself he does it because he's a gentleman.)

Jisung is m e s s y. Messy makeout-er. Lowkey don't know how to kiss... The type to kiss you slow but it's only because if he pushes himself on you any faster he's actually going to cum in his pants and that would be wildly embarrassing on his end. (Even if you're into it and he doesn't know it.) So he'll settle with running his hands over your waist beneath your nightshirt, pulling you down into his lap on the sofa and kissing you silly. Lots of tongue, lots of spit - He's basically just drooling into your mouth with how much is coating your lips. A nasty boy.

Felix is careful with the way he kisses you. He's a fucking freak that's why. He's cautious of where he places his hands on your hips, swaying gently as his lips meet yours. His lips are so soft, taking care of them constantly in case you ever want to kiss him. Warm and sweet, he tastes like the treats he bakes every week for the two of you to share and the way he behaves with you is just as sweet. A sweet boy who just wants to make sure you're comfortable when he kisses you and it becomes a little more.. heated. (He won't tell you but each time you tell him his lips taste like sweets, he'll wonder if you taste just as wonderful. Only time will tell, of course.)

Seungmin only does slow kisses. There's no rushing him - whether he was a virgin or not he wouldn't let you get all riled up and huffy about it. His hands stay in your own, fingers laced together every time to keep you pulled close to him. He likes to take his time because he wants to make sure you're treated right - wants to make sure you know you're his number one. He, also, wants to make sure you know you're the one person he wants. He wants to get the point across before you two do anything more that he wants you to be his first without even having to say anything.

Jeongin can't rush. He won't rush. Well - maybe if he's a little tipsy and begging for you to grind on him and make him cum in his pants... But that's a rare occurrence. On the daily, and I mean daily, he'll sit on the edge of the bed and let you in between his thighs to kiss him goodnight - which entails, every night, making out with him to lull him to sleep. He'll hum into your mouth, his eyes will slowly slip shut and he'll let his hands fall from your waist to your hips; His fingers will hook in the belt loop of your jeans you wanted to desperately to change out of to pull you in closer to him, down into his lap. And he'll want you to keep kissing him all slow and warm until his mouth is practically just hanging open for you. Sleepy and very hard, he'll smile with a shy giggle when you climb out of his lap and tell him to get some rest while you wash up. He loves it - His little nightly routine. ~

Taglist: @dwaekkicidal @jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground @thatonedarkskinnedsiren

@oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie @inlovewithstraykids @seungminsbest

@edit-me-prettyplease @hyune-ssne @butterflydemons @satosugu4L

@skz8love @annafee_bou @dreamyyyyystarrr @franbowesax @4skz4ever

[4nicolas]

satoru thinks he likes the moments after sex with you more than the actual sex itself.

I mean, don’t get him wrong he absolutely loved when the two of you fucked but there just something about the intimacy of the afterglow.

whether satoru was collapsed on top of you or you were collapsed on top of him it felt great. the warmth of your bodies combined made you feel even better.

the two of you coming down from your highs and simply enjoying one another’s presence was another kind of bliss.

he couldn’t get enough of you, he wanted nothing more than to keep you in bed all day; cuddling or being intimate he didn’t care. as long as it contained both your bodies pressed together.

although you were both sticky and sweaty you still felt incredibly comfortable. laying in your own fluids is gross, yeah, but with satoru none of that mattered.

even when the two of you were intertwined satoru still needed more, he needed his arms around you and his legs tangled with yours. he just needed you as close as possible.

your presence alone made him tremendously happy, having your physical touch was just an added bonus, he feels like the happiest man alive when you give him something as simple as a hug. so obviously cuddling was his favorite pastime.

the two of you breathing heavily, not speaking but all the words you wanted to get out being said. your love and adoration was already communicated through the past moments and laying in a comfortable silence was just the cherry on top.

satoru liked to trace little shapes on your skin, his fingers lulling you into a trance, he tried not to let you fall asleep though, he needed his precious lover to keep him company.

if you did find yourself falling asleep satoru would mumble your name or gently scratch your scalp, though if you were genuinely exhausted he would let you sleep.

when you did end up falling asleep he would try and maneuver the both of you under the covers, the added layer keeping you cozy, and being in satorus arms even more so.

other times satoru would try and coax you into taking a quick shower or bath, especially if you both went a bit rougher. all he wanted was the make you feel safe and comfortable and he would always try his hardest to do so.

sometimes the showers consist of satoru lazily holding you against his or vice versa, simply basking in the warm water and each others bodies. did satoru ever mention he loved being close to you?

he does tell you that, a lot actually. but if he didn’t he most definitely would make up by showing it. sometimes when you two take a bath together he’ll let you lay against him, gently massing your shoulders or arms after a long day.

he’ll give you space treatment if you really wanted, anything for you, just say it and he’ll get it.

one part he didn’t like was having to bother or move you so he could wash the sheets, which leads to him not cleaning them just to keep you comfy.

sometimes he would have you sit in the warm tub while he washed the blankets and took care of everything. he wanted to make sure you came back to a clean and fresh pair of covers.

he gave you royal treatment and he knows what that means because he was treated like a king his whole life. though he definitely did much better than that, he gave you all the love and attention you could need tenfold.

when all was said and done the two of you normally got cuddled up under the freshly washed blankets of your shared (king sized) bed, after having taken a nice hot shower or bath of course.

the two of you would hold each other close the entirety of the night, not letting go for a second, and you better hope you don’t have to pee in the middle of the night because you’re not getting out his grasp.

all in all during intimacy and the aftermath and he would take care of you the best he could. after all your the only person whose ever made him feel this way before. it was weird to care so much about one person, he didn’t know how to feel.

he tries his best and will continue to for as long as you two live (yes live, because you’re not breaking up ever.) satoru will do anything and everything for you because he loves you.

he loves you more than anything in the world and couldn’t imagine life without you, so for the rest of his life he will do everything in his power to appeal to you.

of course you tell him he doesn’t need to do all of that but he insists and who are you to say to the satoru gojo?

—

not proof read, im tired and it’s 3am! :P

[insertpinkchiphere]

@gazelessmenagerie asked- S, L, U, T, B, O, R, G A-Z headcanon game (accepting!)

S - Sleepy sex (do they give oral to wake their partner up? do they like receiving oral to wake up? do they like fucking their partner awake? being fucked awake? how about being fucked to sleep at night? do they have lazy morning sex?)

answered here!

L - Lighting (are the lights on? off? do they have some kind of mood lighting set up?)

also answered here!

U - Underwear (what kind of underwear do they put on in the morning, if any at all… do they own any sexy underwear or lingerie?)

He's got very basic underwear. It's like the bikini or hipster kind? Sometimes they have stripe patterns on them. He doesn't have any lingerie or something like that. It'd probably embarrass him to even have those.

T - Top or bottom (self explanatory…)

He's a switch. Bottom leaning. Usually because he's worried about hurting someone. Sometimes he yearns to be on top.

B - Bondage (do they like it? do they not? do they prefer to be the one being tied or the one doing the tying?)

already answered here!

O - Outdoor sex (have they ever done it in public? would they? where?)

answered here

R - Routine (do they have a routine when it comes to picking up one night stands? do they have scheduled sex with their partner? are things spontaneous or planned ahead of time?)

answered this here

G - Group sex (would they have a threeway? four? an orgy? do they put on a show for spectators? or do they like to keep it just between them and their partner?)

Maybe? He's more into keeping things between him and his partner because well, being around multiple people in such a setting would probably have him combust or something. At a time and place where he's built up a lot more confidence then maybe he'd go for it. Hell, maybe not even then given you can coax him into it and reassure him that everyone is on the same level and it'll be fine. Then maybe he wouldn't be opposed to it.

And nope! He doesn't show off for onlookers. Again, the embarrassment would probably be his latest cause of death.

[lovscb97]

tags: han jisung x fem!reader, college bf jisung (yes this needs a tag of its own), oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, pussydrunk jisung, nicknames (sungie, baby, babe, princess, etc), dirty talk, begging, spit, cum eating, implied multiple orgasms/overstimulation, squirting, basically pwp

wc: 1.16k

add. notes: for my luvr @hyunsvngs :3

. . .

han jisung is a lot of things.

top of his class, head of the newspaper club, regular volunteer at the university's animal shelter, that one friendly yet reserved senior everyone feels comfortable talking to, and so much more.

to your smug satisfaction, he is also your boyfriend. your sweet, lovely, lovely boyfriend of six months. he’s the type who dotes on you like no other, the type who holds your bag when it’s too heavy (although he complains about it the entire way), the type who tries his best to open the door for you even when he always gets mixed up between push and pull signs, the type who does his best to cook for you even if the only food he can manage to make is a box of overly soggy cup ramen.

the type who’s currently got your legs hooked over his shoulders as he buries his tongue inside your cunt.

“ngh, sungie.. ’s too much!” you whine as his cherry lips wrap around your swollen clit for the nth time, sucking it into the warm confines of his inviting mouth like it’s the sweetest treat he’s had all day. even with the way your legs kick up at the spiking pleasure shooting through your core after the multiple orgasms you’ve had, he still continues his ministrations, too fucked out to think or budge away as his wet muscle swipes across your folds and dripping hole. it really was favourite pastime to eat you out.

“just a lil’ bit more, baby. please? ’s so good, i can’t stop.” he whimpers into you, pulling away momentarily so his big, brown, doe eyes can stare back into yours, wet eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as his lip quivers. you bite your own at the sight in front of you, letting out a sigh because if he keeps looking at you like that, you fear you might let him get away with murder. “but ‘m sensitive.” you huff, looking down expectantly at the boy between your thighs in hopes he’d beg for you just a little more. to which jisung seems to catch your drift because once the words leave your mouth, he’s kicking up a fuss, puffing out his chest between choked complaints to resume his previous activity.

“i’ll make you feel so good, princess. wontcha’ let me?” he pleads. “love eating this cute little pussy, ’s the best thing i’ve ever tasted.” he licks his lips, heavy breathing filing the air as his eyes drift down to the mess in front of him. your essence coats the soft skin of your inner thighs, a mix of arousal and spit dripping onto the couch he’d gotten you laid back against when he stumbled through the front door, not even bothering with a greeting before spluttering out if he could go down on you right now. without warning, jisung laves a finger through your folds, drawing a yelp from you as he gathers the combined liquids of his own saliva and the remnants of your previous releases on his sole digit before popping it into his mouth. the taste has him moaning out with closed eyes like it’s truly the best thing he’d ever tasted, and that only causes you to clench around nothing as your clit throbs for further stimulation. 

“just one more time, i guess.” you mumble, unable to hide your own temptation as jisung flashes you the widest, most accomplished grin you’ve possibly ever seen him sport. it’s only a matter of mere seconds before he’s diving in once again, flat tongue back on you and meeting your hardened nub as you groan. “so fucking good. my girl has the best cunt ever.” he growls, continuing to lick and suck, alternating between drawing shapes on your clit and bunching your folds up with his fingers to suck them into his mouth. he continues mumbling phrases into your wetness that you can hardly make out, something about how he’ll never get enough of this and how there’s nothing as good as you out there. you think he’s exaggerating honestly, but with the way he’s so enthusiastically slurping at you, you reckon he might be telling the truth.

“fuck, sungie! w-wait!” you exclaim when he suddenly shoves two fingers inside of you, the pads of his digits rubbing against that rough spot deep inside of you, massaging it as if his life depends on it. you can feel the burn of what’s potentially your 3rd orgasm of the night creeping up on you, churning in your stomach as your boyfriend proceeds to brush the tips of his fingers against your wet walls all at the same time as he eats you out. 

“can’t. gotta make this cunt cum.” jisung grunts, pulling away to smack his lips so he can taste you better on his mouth before going back in. “you want that too, right baby? wanna cum for me? make a mess for your sungie?” your moans only egg him on further, fingers hammering inside you repeatedly combined with the suction of his mouth surrounding your engorged bundle of nerves. it doesn’t take very long after that for you to release, clear liquid spurting out of your tight hole against jisung’s fingers and mouth as you cry out in ecstasy. “shit, that’s it. cum for me, baby. keep squirtin’ f’me.” your boyfriend murmurs against you, continuing to lick at you as you shake through the duration and aftershocks of your orgasm, hands reaching out to grip his hair between them as you tug on it harshly.

“fuck..” you breathe out once you’ve come down from your high, laughing incredulously to yourself as jisung gives one last peck to your cunt. he pulls his fingers out slowly, admiring the way your hole clings to them before shoving them into his mouth, obscenely moaning at the taste of you coating his digits. you flush a dark pink at his reaction. “you do too much when it comes to my pussy, babe.” you grumble, visibly embarrassed whilst your boyfriend just chuckles, lifting himself away from his position between your legs to come up and press a sweet kiss to your lips. you kiss him back of course, nose scrunching up at the taste of yourself on his lips, but nothing compares to the feeling of jisung’s plush mouth on yours, so you bear with it.

“i can’t help it, baby.” jisung shrugs once he pulls away. “it’s not my fault that i’d have you for breakfast, lunch and dinner if i could.” there’s a wicked glint in his eyes as he speaks, and you meekly shove his shoulder at the teasing smile he gives you, suppressing your own when he burst out into melodious laughter that always fills your chest with warmth.

after all, han jisung is a lot of things, but the best one of them all is definitely the fact that he's your precious boyfriend, the type who will always fall to his knees for you whenever you desire.

. . .

reblogs & comments are always appreciated! <3

[monicfever]

dd n punisher characters with a hypersexual/overly hormonal reader? of course if you're not comfortable with this type of stuff you don't have to write <3

hypersexual!reader 𝜗𝜚 daredevil & punisher hc’s

r e q u e s t e d ♡

characters used ᝰ .ᐟ matt murdock / frank castle / foggy nelson / karen page / elektra / ben poindexter / billy russo / dinah madani / james wesley / muse

⏜︵ MATT MURDOCK. 𐂯

matt pretends to be unbothered by how forward you are, but he absolutely notices every suggestive comment, every lingering touch, every flirtation. it always gets under his skin more than he lets on. he’ll smile that smug little half-smile, tilt his head like he’s trying to read you, and say something like, “you really don’t hold back, do you?” — but it’s always a little breathless.

he’s always listening. you think you’re being sneaky when you touch yourself in the other room, but matt hears everything. every breath, every rustle of sheets, every quiet whimper. it drives him insane. he’ll usually let you keep going for a while (just to hear it). eventually he’ll show up in the doorway, arms crossed: “having fun?” and the moment you smile at him, it’s over.

he likes the chase. you being constantly turned on doesn’t bother him, but he enjoys making you wait. you’ll try to crawl into his lap when he’s doing paperwork or patching himself up, but he’ll smirk and say, “you want something?” like he doesn’t already know.

he has rules, but you’re the exception. matt tries to set boundaries. “no distractions before patrol.” “not while we’re in public.” “not when i’m bleeding.” yet, somehow, your lips on his neck or your hand creeping under his shirt makes him forget every one of them. you’ll hear him groan out, “you’re gonna be the death of me.” while pulling you closer.

you fluster him more than he’ll admit. you’ve whispered things to him in church before. at nelson & murdock while foggy’s in the other room. across a dinner table while he's pretending to focus. every time, you catch the faint pink in his cheeks, the way he adjusts his posture like he’s suddenly uncomfortable in his skin. “you’re incorrigible.” he’ll mutter. and then he’ll kiss you like he’s punishing you for it.

sometimes, when you’re being especially over-the-top — dropping innuendos in public, texting him filthy things while he’s in court — he’ll give you that warning tone. quiet, dangerous, voice low and right at your ear.

when you’re feeling particularly needy, he’s infuriatingly good at switching the roles. “oh, now you want my attention?” he’ll murmur, catching your wrists as you crawl into his lap. “you seemed just fine earlier.” he knows exactly how to drag it out until you’re the one begging, and when he does finally give in, it’s intense, focused, and a little overwhelming in the best way.

aftercare means a lot to him, even if you’re the one instigating all the time. he’ll kiss your shoulder, your knuckles, the top of your head. he’ll ask, “you okay?” even if you’re giggling and glowing. “again? insatiable.”

on a heavier note, sometimes your intensity stirs something deeper in him. his own guilt, his conflict between pleasure and penance. there are moments when he’ll gently pull back, not to reject you, but to steady himself.

sometimes he worries he’s not enough. he knows you’re intense, that your needs don’t exactly quiet down. even though he’s more than capable of keeping up, there are nights where he wonders if he can keep satisfying you.

⏜︵ FRANK CASTLE. 𐂯

notices everything. every suggestive glance, every teasing touch, every time you slide up beside him wearing next to nothing. he won’t always react — not right away — but you’ll catch the slight tilt of his head, the shift in his breathing. he’s got that stillness that says don’t push me unless you mean it. and you always mean it.

he’s not one for words, especially not when it comes to sex. so when you’re being flirty, constantly on him, slipping innuendos into everyday conversation, he mostly just hums or raises a brow. when he does speak, it’s in that rough voice — something like, “you keep talkin’ like that, you’re gonna find out how far i’ll take it.”

he holds back for a while. you’re always testing the line, always touching, always turning things suggestive. he plays it cool at first, lets you push and push. once he gives in, he doesn’t hold back. it’s intense, fast, physical — he grabs, lifts, pins. after he’s quiet again. catching his breath. wiping his hand down his face like you’ve just unraveled him.

tries not to act like he cares about how much you want him, but the truth is it gets to him. you wanting him like that, so openly, so often; it gets to him. there’s something healing in it, something anchoring. sometimes when you’re curled up next to him afterward, he’ll press a kiss to your forehead and murmur, “you’re trouble.”

he doesn’t judge. never once makes you feel like you’re too much. your neediness, your teasing, your constant desire doesn’t scare him, doesn’t annoy him. if anything, it pulls him in. you’re real, alive, shameless about what you want. frank’s been in the dark too long not to be drawn to that kind of light.

he tries to ignore you when he’s focused, but you are relentless. sitting in his lap while he’s working on something. whispering, “wanna take a break?” with your fingers ghosting over his chest. he doesn’t look at you at first — keeps his hands busy — but his jaw tenses and his breath slows, like he’s trying to pray his way through it. “i’m tryin’ to get this done.” he’ll rasp. you smirk, “i’m trying to get you done.”

he doesn’t like being teased when he’s busy, so when you push him too far, pressing against him while he’s fixing something or whispering filthy things in his ear when he’s trying to clean a gun - - he’ll give you a warning. just a look. if you ignore it? he shuts the whole world out and shows you exactly what happens when you don’t listen.

when you’re being dramatic about needing him, he’ll act annoyed, but deep down it kills him in the sweetest way. “frank,” you’ll whine from across the room, “i’m bored and horny and you’re ignoring me.” and he’ll sigh like you’re exhausting — but then walk over and manhandle you into his arms without a word. picks you up and lays you out like he’s been waiting for you to ask.

he worships your body in private. all that heat and teasing you throw at him gets returned in full once he’s got you alone. he takes his time, holds you still, tells you exactly what he’s going to do in that deep, steady voice. “you want this?” he’ll ask, even though he already knows.

but he’s also so soft after. runs his thumb along your cheekbone like he’s checking you’re real. presses a kiss to your shoulder, your forehead, the curve of your hip.

⏜︵ FOGGY NELSON. 𐂯

he is constantly flustered. like. constantly. you’ll say something absolutely filthy with a straight face while he’s drinking his morning coffee and he’ll choke every time. stammering, red in the face, eyes wide. “you — you can’t just say that while i’m holding hot liquid!”

he brags to matt. not in detail (he’s respectful, okay), but he definitely walks around with that post-you glow, hair messy, tie a little crooked, sipping coffee like he’s untouchable. matt raises a brow. foggy just shrugs. “what can i say? i’m being thoroughly appreciated.” — casually mentions to karen that he “had a very energetic weekend” while sipping his fourth cup of coffee.

he pretends to be shocked, but he loves it. he lives for it. he’ll say things like “you are so inappropriate” while his hand is already on your waist, pulling you closer. he’s not fooling anyone, not with that little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

he loves making you feel good. your neediness doesn’t put him off, he’s just thrilled to be the one you want. he takes his time with you. he listens. and when you’re breathless under him, gripping the sheets and begging for more? he looks at you like you hung the stars.

you make him feel like a king. you’re bold about it. you want him, loudly and often, and foggy melts. literally melts. “you want me that bad?” he asks, half in disbelief, half smug. and when you say yes without hesitation? he gets that cocky little glint in his eyes.

you make him nervous in the best way. like, this is a guy who can argue a courtroom into submission, but the second you lean in at the office and whisper something filthy in his ear, he loses all ability to function.

public teasing turns him into a mess. you run your hand along his thigh under the table, whisper dirty things while you’re walking beside him, and he’s just trying to not combust. “can you not?” he hisses through a grin, but there’s no real protest. he’s into it.

he calls you a menace all the time. lovingly. half-scold, half-swoon.

he tries to retaliate. he’ll flirt back. maybe even whisper something filthy of his own, thinking he’s got you now. you double down. he immediately regrets it in the best way. “okay, okay, you win,” he laughs, hands up. “you’re dangerous.”

he’s an aftercare king. gets you water, fluffs your pillow, runs a bath. holds you close while you both come down. if you so much as hint at being ready for another round he’ll fake-complain (“you’re trying to kill me!”) while already kissing down your neck.

when he tries to keep up with you, it’s adorable. you’ll say something filthy and he’ll try to match you with a slick comeback; but the timing’s off, or he blushes halfway through, and it just ends up being the cutest thing you’ve ever heard.

he’s a cuddler with no shame. after you’ve exhausted him (and let’s be honest, you do), he’s all tangled limbs and sleepy kisses. “you’re insane,” he mumbles, burying his face in your shoulder. “i love it. don’t stop.” his voice is warm, a little hoarse, completely smitten.

he can’t keep secrets. not real ones. if he’s been thinking about you all day, he’ll tell you. “you left me like that this morning and expected me to go to work like a functioning adult?” he texts you during court. you send back a selfie in something slightly obscene. he slams his phone face-down on the desk and mutters “i’m in hell” with a dazed smile.

“no more sending suggestive photos while i’m at lunch with matt’s priest friend.”

he loves you exactly the way you are. loud, needy, bold, inappropriate — he eats it up.

⏜︵ KAREN PAGE. 𐂯

she tries to be professional. she’ll be typing up a story, dead focused, and then you saunter in, leaning over her chair, whispering something that should absolutely be illegal. her jaw tenses, her eyes stay on the screen. “i’m working.” but she’s already shifting in her seat, biting her lip.

she has a secret mouth. when she wants to, she’ll say something so filthy it stuns you into silence. usually in a whisper. close to your ear. “you gonna beg for it, or just keep looking at me like that?” and then she just waits. calm. still. eyes on you, daring you to do something about it.

you flirt like it’s breathing, kiss like it’s urgent, touch like you need her; it leaves her reeling. she’ll try to keep her cool but you’ll catch the way she exhales a little too hard, or stares at your mouth a second too long.

she teases right back. once she’s comfortable with you, you’re in trouble. she’ll wait until you’re the one trying to focus, then lean in and say something devastating in that soft, matter-of-fact voice. “if you keep looking at me like that, we’re not making it to dinner.” and then just walk away. smirking.

but you also unravel her. she’s used to bottling things up, being composed. you’re all touch and need and hunger and affection. it pulls something raw out of her. when you’re whispering her name, clawing at her shirt, telling her how good she makes you feel, she loses her edge.

she’s fiercely attentive. your hypersexuality doesn’t scare her, doesn’t make her pull away. if anything it makes her want to understand you better. know your needs, meet them fully, love you through it. she’ll read you like a book — figure out exactly what makes you tick — and then use it.

she absolutely uses your energy to distract you. when she wants your attention, she’ll give you that look, chin tilted, eyes sharp, and say something devastating in a calm voice. “get over here.” and suddenly you’re the one undone, aching and obedient.

she knows when you’re trying to seduce her and lets you. she’ll play along like she’s unfazed, arms crossed, head tilted. “you think you’re being subtle?” she’ll say while you’re practically crawling into her lap. but the slight twitch at the corner of her mouth? the way her eyes darken just a little? yeah, you’ve already won.

she does not shy away from intimacy. your neediness doesn’t embarrass her, it draws her in. she’s not here to shame you or play coy. she wants to be wanted like that. to be touched like she matters. when she gets overwhelmed, she clings. yeah, you’re the hypersexual one — but when she finally lets go, she gets wrapped up in it too. hands in your hair, lips on your throat, whispering your name like it’s the only thing that matters.

she absolutely teases you in public. she’ll press up behind you at the grocery store, whisper something obscene with the most innocent look on her face, then walk off like nothing happened. you’re the one standing there stunned, clutching a box of cereal like it just said something inappropriate.

gets handsy when she’s tired. maybe it’s after a long day, maybe it’s when she’s half-asleep on the couch, but her hands start wandering, slow and lazy and full of intention.

⏜︵ ELEKTRA. 𐂯

absolutely thinks it’s amusing. from the start, she watches you with that signature, smug little smile every time you throw yourself at her like a live wire. her eyes are dark, hungry, like she’s daring you to want her more.

she matches your energy with terrifying ease. you flirt to fluster — she flirts to destroy. you say something filthy and she just smiles, leans in, and whispers something ten times worse in your ear while touching you exactly where it counts.

you don’t scare her. she welcomes all of it. feeds off of it. where others might pull away, elektra leans into it. and when you beg? her grin gets sharp.

she teases you to the edge of madness. she’ll touch you under the table during dinner, drag her nails over your thighs when you’re trying to focus, kiss your jaw and say, “you’ll behave, won’t you?” in public — knowing damn well you won’t. she wants you to break. that’s the game. taunts you when you’re needy. you’ll whine, cling, kiss her like you’re begging for something, and she’ll laugh — low and wicked. “you’ll have to earn it.” she’ll purr, dragging her fingers down your back.

she owns the aftermath. after you’ve lost your mind on her, desperate and clinging, she turns soft. unexpectedly so. hands gentle, voice low, fingers brushing your hair back as she says, “look at you. i do love how pretty you are when you fall apart.”

she lives for your attention. she won’t admit it, at least not easily, but the way you’re always reaching for her, needing her, dragging her in like you’re starving for her? it feeds something in her. reminds her she’s wanted.

she doesn’t believe in moderation. so you being constantly touchy, constantly turned on? she meets it with equal force. doesn’t ask why you want her again, just laughs, low and cruel, “on your knees, then.” like it’s the most obvious answer in the world.

she gets mean when she’s turned on. in that smirking, dominant, slightly dangerous way. “what’s the matter, sweetheart?” she’ll say when you’re writhing under her, voice honey-sweet and mocking. “this is what you wanted, isn’t it? all that begging…”

she tests how far you’ll go. she’ll push you in public, press a hand between your thighs under the table, kiss your neck just a little too long, and ask in your ear, “going to behave, or make a scene?” and when you shiver, grip her wrist, beg for more — that’s when she grins like the devil. “that’s what i thought.”

watches you like prey. doesn’t matter how many times you’ve kissed, or how many times you’ve begged her to take you apart, she always looks at you like she’s deciding where to sink her teeth next. you flirt with her in front of someone else? challenge her in that low voice? she’ll take you home and ruin you.

when you come onto her in a bad mood she melts. she could be fresh off a mission, furious, bloodied, but you crawling into her lap and saying, “let me help”? she softens instantly. not in a weak way, in a worshipful way. like your desire grounds her.

⏜︵ BEN POINDEXTER. 𐂯

at first, he doesn’t know what to do with you. you flirt like it’s breathing, kiss him like it’s urgent, touch him in casual greedy little ways that short-circuit his brain. he tries to act normal, tries to hold himself together, but you catch him clenching his jaw, fingers twitching, chest rising a little too fast.

he gets obsessed fast. the second he realizes how much you want him — how openly, constantly, shamelessly — you flip some hidden switch in him. he wants more. needs it. suddenly he’s tracking your every move, memorizing the way you kiss him, the way you look at him like he’s the only thing on your mind.

he follows instructions like they’re oxygen. “sit.” “stay still.” “hands behind your back.” you say it, and he does it. instantly. without blinking. it’s instinct at this point — his body reacting before his mind catches up. the second he obeys, he’s looking up at you, waiting for approval, wide-eyed and aching for your praise.

he’s dangerous when you rile him up too far. you flirt too much, grind against him when he’s trying to behave, whisper something filthy in his ear when you’re supposed to be focused, and he snaps. drags you somewhere private, presses you against the wall, and just takes. it’s quiet, intense, almost reverent. “you drive me crazy.” he groans, forehead to yours.

he doesn’t know how to handle being needed. you tell him you want him — again and again and again — and it undoes him. makes him shaky. makes him cling. sometimes after you’ve worn each other out, he just holds you too tight and buries his face in your neck. like he’s afraid if he lets go, it’ll all disappear.

he gets flustered in the cutest, darkest way. you say something explicit and he freezes — eyes dark, jaw clenched, pulse ticking in his neck. he doesn’t laugh it off or blush. he stares. silently. like he’s deciding how many rules he’s willing to break right now. spoiler: it’s all of them.

he’s so good at ruining you in return. the minute you start pushing him he gives it back, tenfold. pins your wrists. makes you beg. says nothing for most of it, just stares at you like you’re the most perfect thing he’s ever seen. when you come undone he whispers, “look at you… look at what you let me do.”

your neediness makes him feel safe. he doesn’t always say it. but knowing you want him that much? that openly? it quiets the noise. the guilt. the rage. he touches you like you’re salvation. holds you after like you’re the only thing keeping him on the edge of sanity. you are.

he spirals when you tease him and then act innocent. you’ll straddle his lap, whisper something obscene, kiss his neck, then just walk away like it didn’t happen. dex sits there, frozen, jaw clenched, staring at the wall like he’s trying not to snap a pencil in half. by the time he finds you again, he’s feral. “you think this is a game?”

he thrives when you lose control. the moment your composure cracks — the moment you beg, or whimper, or grab at him like you can’t take it anymore — his whole demeanor shifts. his lips curl into this possessive little smirk.

he's insatiable once you’ve broken the seal. if he’s gone too long without touching you he gets ravenous. rough, shaky hands. kisses that don’t stop. taking you again and again, like he’s trying to make up for all the hours he went without you.

he doesn’t know how to take it when you praise him. he stares at you like he doesn’t know how to absorb it. like part of him doesn’t believe he deserves that softness. but he needs it. and when you say it again, gentler this time, he kisses you like he’ll die without it. he adores being praised. when you tell him he’s good, or strong, or perfect, his whole body trembles, just a little. his breath catches. it’s like he’s hearing it for the first time, every time, and it shakes him to his core. “you like that, don’t you?” you’ll tease. and he’ll look at you with this raw, desperate expression. “say it again,” he’ll whisper, voice hoarse, “please.”

he gets needy in the best way. the more you touch him, the more you praise him, the more desperate he becomes. the man who usually has all the control suddenly becomes weak for you. he’s a mess when you praise him during sex. when you tell him he’s good in bed, that he’s making you feel good — that’s when he absolutely falls apart. his hands go slack, his body goes rigid, and he’ll mumble, “don’t stop.” over and over. every word that spills from your mouth is like a drug, and it’s ruining him in the best way possible.

he loves when you take control. push him down. tell him not to move. give him orders like you expect them to be followed — because he wants to follow them. he wants to earn your touch, your words, your love. when he gets it he’s panting, melting, gripping the sheets like it’s the only thing keeping him from floating away.

his obedience isn’t about power — it’s about love. he doesn’t kneel for you because he’s weak. he kneels because he trusts you. because he knows that when you give him orders, you’ll also give him affection. and that means everything to him.

⏜︵ BILLY RUSSO. 𐂯

tries to be cocky about it at first. smirking while you straddle him, talking shit like, “gonna take what you want, baby?” but the second you actually do — grab his wrists, grind down, whisper “be good for me” — his whole body shudders. the smirk fades. his jaw clenches. and he’s whispering, “fuck… okay. okay.”

he gets jealous of your attention. not just who you give it to — but when you withhold it. you tease him, flirt then walk away, or spend more time on your phone than in his lap, and he’s immediately pressing up behind you, voice low: “what, you done using me already?”

you catch him off guard constantly. dragging him into the nearest room, climbing into his lap during meetings, whispering something unholy while he’s trying to concentrate. and he plays it cool, sure — but the way he grips the edge of the table or clenches his jaw? oh, he’s losing it.

he becomes so obedient under the right pressure. you tell him stay still and he does. every muscle tight, breathing uneven, eyes locked on you like he’s waiting for his next instruction. he looks cocky, but that tension in his body? that’s need. he wants your praise. needs your permission.

he thrives off your desire. knowing you want him all the time, that you’re always thinking about him — it makes him feel powerful. desired. worshipped. he’ll tease you for it —“you really can’t keep your hands off me, huh?”

but the more you want him, the more needy he becomes. it stops being a game and starts being obsession. now he’s the one touching you constantly, dragging you into bed at all hours, whispering, “just one more time, baby. can’t stop thinking about you.”

he’ll let you use him. no ego, no fight — just “tell me what to do.” if you’re extra desperate, pulling at his clothes and grinding on him like you’ll lose your mind without it, he lets you take it. lets you pull his belt loose and ride him breathless. hands on your thighs, eyes locked on you like you’re holy.

he melts for praise but tries to hide it. you call him good and he lets out this shaky breath, head dropping back, hands fisting the sheets. “fuck,” he whispers, like he’s embarrassed at how much it affects him. you tease him for how much he likes it. “look at you,” you’ll purr, dragging your nails down his chest, “mr. billy russo. ceo. soldier. killer. begging for my approval.” and he groans. because yeah. he is. and when you call him your pretty boy, your sweet thing, your favourite toy — he thrives. eats it up. all of it. he follows instructions so, so well. you train him without even meaning to. tell him how to touch you. when to stay still. where to put his hands. he gets desperate for your praise. he’ll push himself to the edge trying to make you feel good, looking up at you like a starved thing. “you feel good?” he pants.

he wants you to ruin him. not physically — emotionally. he wants you to strip him down. take all the masks off. make him yours in a way no one else ever has. when you say, “mine,” and grip his chin so he has to look at you? his body goes limp. he nods, quiet, obedient.

he’s competitive about keeping up. you want it again? again? oh, he’s rising to the challenge. he won’t back down — won’t let you think for one second he can’t handle it. but by round five, he’s on his back, breathless, hair damp, muttering, “jesus christ— what are you trying to do to me?”

he starts scheduling around your sex drive. literally moves meetings, delays calls, closes his office door and texts you a simple: now. and when you show up already knowing what he wants? he just leans back in his chair, unbuttons his shirt, and smirks — “i knew you couldn’t resist.”

but the second you get needy? oh, he crumbles. you press up against him, whine a little, tell him how bad you want him — and suddenly the smug façade shatters. he’s flustered, hands already on your hips, murmuring, “yeah? tell me what you need, baby. i’ll give you everything.”

he keeps things on him just in case. backup condoms. lube in his desk drawer. a change of clothes. because he knows you — knows you’re unpredictable, insatiable, always two seconds from crawling into his lap and making him lose every ounce of professionalism he has left.

he talks a big game but loses it so fast. he’ll say shit like “you gonna ride me like you mean it?” or “hope you can handle what you’re asking for”— and then you do, and suddenly he’s gasping, clutching at you, swearing under his breath like his whole body’s going haywire.

your appetite breaks his composure. you get him worked up in public, and suddenly mr. smooth-talker is stammering. distracted. flustered. he’ll pull you aside, grab your face, and growl, “you need to stop or i’m gonna fuck you in the nearest locked room.” (spoiler: you don’t stop.)

⏜︵ DINAH MADANI. 𐂯

slow mornings where you can’t keep your hands off her while she’s brushing her teeth, trying to read case files, trying to drink her coffee — she doesn’t stop you, just mutters “insatiable” with a smirk. late nights on the couch with your legs tangled over hers, your fingers tracing the scar on her side, whispering everything you want to do to her — she listens quietly, then pulls you into her lap.

you call her detective when you're being flirty — she pretends to be annoyed, but the flush in her cheeks always gives her away.

she’s the calm to your fire, but when she snaps, when she lets go — you learn that she’s been holding back so much more than you thought. your need for touch grounds her; sometimes it’s the only thing that pulls her out of her head after a long day.

she’s not overly verbal during sex, but you are — and she loves it. loves how uninhibited you are, how you make her feel wanted in a thousand ways. sometimes she doesn’t say anything at all — just looks at you with that heavy gaze, hands on your hips, and you know exactly what she needs.

you send her texts during work: i need you, thinking about your hands, wear that button-down tonight — she leaves you on read, but always shows up exactly how you want.

she’s the type to make you wait. edge you for hours just because you’ve been too much all day and she wants to remind you who’s in control.

she sets boundaries with you early on — not because she wants distance, but because she knows your appetite could swallow her whole if she let its “you don’t get to touch me just because you’re needy,” she says, low and measured, her hand firm on your wrist — but she never pushes you away, not really.

she gives you rules. no touching without asking. no teasing when she’s on the phone. and god help you if you break them — she doesn’t yell, she disciplines. when you push too far, she doesn’t lose her temper — she goes cold, calculated. “take your hands off me. now. you don’t get me when you’re acting like a brat.” she uses your hypersexuality to train you — gets in your head, turns your hunger into obedience.

you test her constantly, and she lets you — up to a point. then it’s “knees. now.” and you’re on the floor before your brain can catch up. she loves that you want her all the time — but she makes sure you need her on her terms, not yours.

⏜︵ JAMES WESLEY. 𐂯

he’s amused by how needy you are — not mocking, just indulgent. “insatiable little thing, aren’t you?” he says without looking up from his glass. he doesn’t initiate in public, but you can feel it in his stare across the room — the promise of what he’ll do to you later if you don’t behave.

he makes you ask. always. “use your words.” and if you whine or pout? “that’s not asking. that’s begging. i haven’t decided if you deserve it yet.” his discipline is precise — never cruel, always controlled. he doesn’t punish out of anger, but out of principle.

you learn very quickly not to touch him without permission. not because he doesn’t want you to — but because he enjoys denying you just enough to keep you desperate.

“if you can’t sit still through dinner without thinking about my hands, maybe you don’t need dessert tonight. or tomorrow.”

he knows your body like a weapon — keeps you right on the edge with barely a touch, just his voice, just the way he looks at you when you’re squirming in his lap. he buys you luxury — lingerie you’re not allowed to wear unless he puts it on you, jewelry that marks you as his, bruises that match your diamonds.

there’s a cold satisfaction in how he makes you obey. “no talking back.” if you try to argue he silences you with a kiss, a firm grip on your jaw, “i’ll speak when i want. you’ll listen.” he loves the way you bend to his will.

when you’re on your knees, obedient and desperate, he takes his time with you, savoring the control he has over your every move, over the way you look at him like he’s the only thing that matters. he loves when you’re desperate, when you can’t hide how much you crave him. “beg for it,” he’ll say, casually, and the way you do makes him smile with that dangerous satisfaction.

in those rare moments when he decides you’ve earned it, he’ll show a sliver of tenderness. a brush of his fingers on your cheek, a gentle word in your ear — it’s the only time you get a glimpse of the softer side he hides behind his icy control.

he doesn’t let you forget who’s in charge. if you slip up, if you get too demanding or bratty, he’ll pull back with a simple “that’s not how this works. try again.” he holds back just enough to make sure you’re always wanting more. when he finally gives you what you crave, it’s a slow, calculated act — drawing you to the brink, then pulling you back again, just to see how much you’ll beg.

“you’re not getting anything until you prove you can behave.” — you have to be good for him to get what you want.

⏜︵ MUSE. 𐂯

he calls you his favourite canvas, but he never means it metaphorically. his fingers drag across your skin like brushes, like he’s trying to paint need into your bones. he doesn’t understand restraint — when you want him, it feeds something primal in him. “say it again,” he demands, breathless and too close.

blood on his hands, paint under his nails, and you pulling at his shirt like you’re starving — he doesn’t care what time it is or what mess he left behind, not when you’re looking at him like that. he laughs when you get desperate, but it’s not mocking — it’s delighted. “look at you,” he purrs, “so hungry. like a little beast. i could make something beautiful out of that.”

he marks you in more than bruises — red smudges from pigment he won’t name, his fingerprints staining your thighs, your back, your neck — like he’s signing you. he gets obsessed with patterns — the way your body responds to certain touches, sounds, pressure — like he’s studying a new medium. “arch your back. no — slower. let me see the shape of it.”

he doesn’t like being told no. not because he’s cruel, but because he can’t comprehend being denied something he craves. your desire fuels his delusions of devotion. when you touch him, it drives him manic — like being wanted back is a concept he can’t entirely believe, and he spirals into reverence or obsession. sometimes both.

he doesn’t knock when he enters — he appears, silently, suddenly, like inspiration itself. and when you look at him with need in your eyes, he exhales like he’s relieved. “oh good. you’re ready for me.” he doesn’t understand why you crave him so often — but he adores it. treats it like proof. like you were made for him. like your desire validates the madness in his head.

he feeds on your desperation — physically, mentally, artistically. your need becomes his muse, your body the altar he builds madness on. when he ties you up, it’s not just for control — it’s a frame. your body, trembling and aching, becomes the exhibit. “stay still. you’re art now. don’t ruin it.”

he’s rough, but never careless. every bruise is intentional. every handprint, every bite — a signature. he gets frustrated when you wear something that hides his marks.

after, when you’re ruined and trembling and boneless, he presses his forehead to yours, whispering in rapid, breathless phrases: “my perfect, filthy little thing.”

and then he sketches. right there, with you still shaking, sprawled over his lap — he sketches the aftermath. the glow. the way you fell apart.

started 4.27.2025. finished 4.28.2025.

( masterlist. )

©️ monicfever 2025

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

contents: dilf!sugu (early forties) x younger reader. written with gn!reader in mind but "good girl" is used exactly once (i am not a girl but would still like it if he called me that <3) one mention of throwing up. reader is implied to have intimacy issues wc 2.6k

"suguru… i can eat it myself."

your voice comes out raspy; worn down, splintered, a dull stab of pain at the base of your throat.

behind your eyes lies a similar sensation, dry fatigue throbbing at the root of your skull. it has you slumping back against the pillows, squeezing your eyes shut — you can scarcely move. stuck under soft duvet covers, in a body that feels too cold and too hot all at once, with broken vocal cords to boot.

suguru gives you a sympathetic smile.

”i know, honey," he croons, the silver spoon resting just in front of your pursed lips. ”but i want to do this for you. would you open up, for me?"

you frown.

then you're parting your lips; pliantly letting him feed you another spoonful's worth of rice porridge. it goes down easy, soothing the walls of your dry throat, a comforting warmth spreading through your body, from your chest to the tips of your fingers — little sparks of numbing heat. you wish you could taste it, but not even the chopped scallion carries any flavour, dulled by your useless tastebuds. and that’s fine — your stomach can handle it, that’s all that matters.

but gosh, is it depressing.

"good girl."

a low, absentminded rumble. you let out a weak, sputtering cough — heat crawling up your nape.

(you aren't sure if it's the fever's doing, or his.)

a miserable croak. "… my throat hurts…”

suguru hums. his fingers reach for your jaw, cupping it gently with the inside of his palm — the pad of his thumb rolling softly against your wet bottom lip, wiping at the excess broth. he feels cold, against you, like the underside of your pillow on a sweltering summer night. suguru has always been nothing but warm, your very own melting point, a walking furnace under cardigans and turtlenecks —

but the heat of your skin is overpowering, right now.

of all days to get a fever, it just had to be today. you just had to wake up sick, bleary-eyed and dizzy, right before your deadline — curled up to a boyfriend that should really be at work right now, not sitting by the bedside and coddling you. leisurely as he might treat it, as much as you know he doesn't really need to work, that he has decades worth of savings to fall back on — that pottery is something he teaches as a form of self-soothing — you really think there's something more important he could be doing. something that doesn't involve you vomiting over his covers, or needing to be soothed into sleeping.

or, well — spoon-fed porridge.

(you're embarrassed. he's never seen you like this.)

"i know," he murmurs, softly. lifting his hand to smooth over the apple of your cheek, budding with uncomfortable warmth. "does it hurt a lot to speak?"

you nod, weakly, and it's answer enough.

"… poor thing." he exhales, through his nose, leaning back in his chair to retrieve the green, wobbly cup on the nightstand. he helps you drink from it, holding the ceramic against your lips, making sure you're taking steady sips. herbal tea, strong enough that you can almost tell which bags he mixed together — something minty, a kick of spice on the roof of your mouth — a smooth sweetness to it as it trickles down your throat. honey-soft against your teeth.

it helps, a little, but you still feel miserable.

"it'll pass, darling." as if sensing your thoughts, he runs his heavy hand down the back of your head, petting down your hair. you're pouting, softly, drowning in thick blankets and freshly changed sheets — you must look silly. "i'm right here. try not to strain your voice too much, hm? you can whisper in my ear if there's anything you'd like."

a weak croak. you squeeze your eyes shut, leaning into his touch. "… i just wanna feel better..."

a sad smile slips over his face. a shadow in his eye, just from hearing you whisper such helpless words.

”… i know," he sighs, carding through your tousled hair. "i know, love. i know you didn't want this."

suguru sets the cup back on the nightstand. it clinks, in the dim-lit room, the curtains drawn shut to spare you the grating light — not that there's any to be found in the cloudy skies outside. you can hear the patter of rain against the window, a steady rhythm, the heavy downpour helping your mind sink into some state of rest. as close as you can get to it.

"but you'll be alright. i've got you." pitter, patter, his tender voice blending together with the white noise of the world. "i'm glad you stayed over, last night."

"… mm,” you mumble, struggling to keep your eyes open. you aren't sure how to feel about that, yourself — if a part of you wouldn’t have preferred braving it out alone, in your own apartment — but you're sure he knows. sure he senses your discomfort the same way he's always been able to; seamless in his care, all too keen to the restless twitching of your fingertips, the way you've yet to look at him properly.

suguru knows you don't like this.

(he also knows it's because you need it, deep down.)

"… my baby."

you're pliant, as he smears a kiss against your cheek, cupping the apple of it in his palm. when he turns you to face him, you want to shy away — his eyes leak liquid gold, something too loving to look at without feeling nauseous with unease.

he knows, he knows. he's more than aware that the first bite of warm food after a life of feeding off scraps is the hardest.

another kiss, at the corner of your lip. you push him away, weakly.

"you'll get sick," you rasp, curling further into the mattress, like a rabbit burrowing a hole in the ground to sleep in. to hide in. ”we can't…"

a delighted laugh; short and breathy, as he tilts his head, bangs gliding across his skin and framing his crinkled eyes, silver strands in between the ink-black. suguru smiles, and something in you knows he wants to say oh, we could —

but he refrains. before his palm falls from your face, he brushes a thumb right below your eye, ghosting gently at your lashline. then he purrs, softly;

"alright. i won't be irresponsible."

a quiet buzz resounds from the phone in his pocket. it frees you of his weighty gaze, and suddenly you can breathe again, watching as he takes it out and squints at the screen — a stark brightness lighting up his face. crows' feet by his eyes, soft facial lines, the sharp edge of his jaw. so, so handsome, only ripened by age. the air of maturity he carries.

it makes you feel so safe. taken care of.

"ah… your treat is almost here." he slips it back into his pocket, and stands up from his chair. "they'll be here any moment. i'll go get it; just stay put."

the ghost of a pout. when you realize the kind of face you're making, it's too late — he's already noticed. his eyes soften, and you curse your feverish heart.

"i'll only be gone for a second." his voice is softer, now, velvet smooth, honey and butter. "okay, honey?"

"… okay."

a quiet exhale. he leans forward, to plant a kiss against your forehead; you feel him frown at your rising temperature, before pulling back. once he's sated himself with another meaningful glance, smiling gently, he turns towards the door.

you watch his back as he leaves the room. trying to ignore the mellow pounding in your skull; the sweltering, dizzying warmth bubbling beneath your skin, thrumming inside your veins. it hurts. you're all alone. a meek, vulnerable part of you can't help but wish he hadn't left, even though you can't deal with the way he’s acting. the guilt-ridden longing that washes over you when he treats you like something to be cherished, something small and needing.

you hate that you crave it. you hate that it's the standard he's gotten you used to.

(you hate that you want him to stay, and hold your hand; like your mother used to, before you grew too old for it.)

a shaky exhale. you try to put an end to that train of thought; your mind is too tangled up in threads, too cloudy with the fever. think of something else. the warm bed you're in, the spacious room — its beige walls, lined with oil paintings, the carpet on the floor and armchair in the corner. houseplants on the windowsill, and a desk he assembled just for you.

if the fever hadn't ruined things, you would've been sitting there by now. working on your assignment.

… you sigh, squeezing your eyes shut.

(at this rate, you'll miss the deadline for sure.)

…

suguru still isn't back.

maybe it's taking longer than he thought. maybe — maybe he's talking with the delivery guy, right now, making pleasant conversation.

maybe he won't notice if you just…

sluggishly, you lift yourself up by the elbows. slow, clumsy, it's a struggle just to stay upright; a wave of vertigo wringing your mind when you move your legs until they're dangling off the bed's edge. squinting your eyes, gazing ahead, at the cabinet you know your laptop's hidden in — you were just barely lucid enough to hear the wood slide into place.

suguru basically forbade you to study, today — though he'd phrase it more like gentle persuasion.

unfortunately, there's nothing gentle about the look he gets when you put your health at risk.

but you need to email your professor, at the very least. or just throw something together — anything, even a sloppy mess of an essay would be preferable to having to plead for another extension. a fever isn't an excuse. you've pushed through worse before.

("your body's telling you to rest. what could be more important than that?")

his words sting the back of your mind.

yet you push on.

standing up, on unsteady feet, you will your knees not to buckle as you wade across the room. it's a haze, but you make it, miraculously — leaning both arms against the desk as you lower your head and squeeze your eyes shut. a deep intake of breath, to stabilize yourself. the hard part is over.

now you just need to—

your feet leave the ground.

strong, solid arms lift you up, and a frightened yelp tumbles from your throat. raw and animal. it would embarrass you, if you weren't so caught off guard — hoisted up like a misbehaving cat, raised into the air like you weigh nothing. suguru's got you pressed against his chest, one palm on your back, the other just under your butt, your cheek against his naked collarbone. you can't smell him like you usually would; but his embrace carries a placebo of jasmine oil and rosemary, hints of sandalwood and musk.

it makes your head feel fuzzy. like being in his arms just turns your brain off.

before you can get any words out, he's carrying you right back to the bed — biceps coiled tightly around your starstruck frame. gentle, as he sets you down on the mattress, letting you bounce just a bit.

… he looks admonishing, though.

"my little troublemaker," he sighs, carding a hand through his hair. one brow raised, an exasperated lilt to his smile. ”what did i tell you about staying put?"

you blink. eyes wide, still, heart thumping with surprise.

suguru seems to notice.

"… did i spook you, honey?" he chuckles, smoothing his fingers along your sweaty bangs as if to signal that he isn't really mad. dragging the covers up, to tuck you back in, making sure you’re comfortable.

you swallow, thickly, willing your fragile voice not to crack.

”i just… forget how strong you are, sometimes,” you mumble. not knowing what else to say.

you think he's trying not to smile, based on the silent laughter in his eyes; flickering flames of mirth. ”i see,” he hums, his gaze alight and gleaming. "does it scare you?"

"… no."

a warm smile. "good." he tilts his head, narrowing his eyes. "now, what were you thinking of doing, hm?"

… you glance away, sheepishly. like a child caught elbow deep in a cookie jar.

of course he would make you admit to it.

"s… studyin'," you rasp, stuttering on a cough. rushing to defend yourself against his accusing stare. "i won't finish in time, sugu… they're gonna fail me."

"they won't." he cuts you off, swiftly, and the decision in his voice makes you think it’s more than empty reassurance. "i'll email your professor, sweet thing. they're not gonna fail you just because you happened to get sick at the wrong time."

an involuntary gulp. you look at him with bleary, flustered eyes, shaking your head — because not only is that wildly optimistic —

"t-that's too embarrassing," you whine, voice soft and pleading in a way that makes you feel small. "it's like you're my mom… you can't."

suguru chuckles — a deep bark, ripe with fondness. it makes you feel hotter, a whimper on the tip of your tongue. "just for today." his eyes are gleaming, the promise light on his lips. "when you get better, you can be an independent adult again. alright?

…

that idea only makes you feel smaller. like you're something he could cup with just one hand — something that doesn't need to stress because he's got everything covered, you only need to lean against him and sweetly mewl for his assistance. there’s something so intoxicating about not having to be a person, for once.

especially when you don't feel like being one.

(you can just be his baby.

… just for today.)

"… okay," you mumble, finally, so small you don't think he hears it. but your lips part, and you lean into his touch, and he sees that — a tell-tale sign of your unravelling, a complex machinery taken apart — reduced to something soft and pillowy.

it makes him croon. all too pleased, as he gazes down at you, meek and melting, struggling to hide a little pout. he rubs your bottom lip soothingly.

"thank you, honey." there's weight behind the words, but you don't think he'll push it — not today, not right now, he'll allow you to hide after being brave enough to show your metaphorical underbelly. "now, would you like some sorbet? it's waiting on the counter."

it's a silly question, because it's all you've been dreaming of for the past hour; lemon-frost sliding down your throat, soft and chilly, melting on your tongue and cooling your heated body. you're silly, because the question makes you frown, makes you reach for his palm so you can nuzzle into it. hearing the rain patter, feeling his touch, his presence like a weighted blanket around your frazzled mind.

you shake your head.

"… don't go," you whisper, as your eyelids flutter shut.

suguru is silent, for a moment.

then he's squeezing your hand, gently.

"… never," he promises, another of his palms coming to rest against your cheek— his voice like melted caramel, sticky, gentle shushing, so soft you'd think him just as sick as you. ”never leaving you, my dear.”

his thumb rubs circles into your skin, comforting and slow, and he sounds nothing but sincere. you curl up into a fetal position, beneath the blankets; allowing your body the rest that it needs. sinking into the plushness of the mattress, letting your chest rise and fall, as his presence cocoons you, lulls you into that state you’re so afraid of — the one that makes you feel like an infant child, a non-person, something worthy of the care it receives. in the safe haven of his bedroom, fragility gains a different meaning; something to savour, rather than crush.

it's okay if it lives, you tell yourself. it's okay if it breathes, and grows legs. if it starts to take up space.

(it’s okay if it just gets to be.)

[madaqueue]

IN YOUR BODY, IN HIS VOICE

you just need to hear his voice and you swear you’ll feel better. besides, a little rule breaking never hurt anybody…right?

pairing: suguru geto x f!reader

themes/content: smut. very guided phone sex/masturbation + a pinch of nipple play, lots of petnames (angel, darling, sweetheart, etc), i have no excuse i just need him to talk me through it tbh (wk: 1.8k)

a/n: thx to every beautiful little freak who voted in my poll for this :33 love you all hope you enjoyyyy <3333

You think you’re going insane.

It’s been less than a week since Suguru left for his work trip, and you genuinely think you’re losing your mind. Every little thing reminds you of him - the mug with a sip of stale coffee in the bottom, the towel that still smells like his shampoo, the rings left sitting on his bedside table.

You never noticed just how big they were, and you almost can’t picture the silver encasing his fingers…his hands…the way they used to cover your body, the metal cool against your hot skin-

Fuck.

And just like that, your thoughts were back to him again.

Has he always had this effect on you? Does he even know how easily he worked his way into your mind, growing roots there and blooming between your thoughts? Every beat of your heart seemed to call his name: Su - Gu - Ru.

Now your heart is beating even faster, begging for him. Suguru. Suguru.

It’s all too hot in your bedroom without him. The air is too stuffy, the comforters too heavy. The rough cotton scratches against your bare skin - unlike his, which softly cradled you with every touch.

God, you miss the way he would touch you. Smooth hands trailing down your back, up your neck, over your chest…

FUCK.

It’s been less than a week since Suguru left, and it’s the longest you’ve gone without sex. Maybe that’s why you’re losing your mind, it has to be.

It’s also, obviously, the longest you’ve gone without cumming since you started dating. The rules were clear: if you wanted to get off, he would be the one to do it. It was easy to agree - after all, he was so, so eager to help. It took little more than a quiet whine in his direction for your clothes to be torn off, Suguru already buried deep inside you. It got to the point where you were practically always flushed and ready around him, anything more than a hand trailing along your skin enough to set you off.

Of course, you also understood the constraints of this little arrangement: no touching yourself when he wasn’t there.

But now, it’s been days. You could feel your thoughts getting clouded around the edges, blurred with an insatiable desire. Suguru. Suguru. Suguru.

Surely, one little touch wouldn’t hurt…right?

Your hands move on their own, trailing down, down, down between your legs. Sliding your panties off your legs, you sink into the warmth of yourself. You try, you really fucking try to curl your fingers in the same way he does, to reach that one spot that has you seeing white. Yet, even when you pick up the pace, it’s not enough.

What the hell?

Did Suguru somehow manage to ruin you for yourself?

You grumble in disappointment, before a moment of clarity strikes you - you can just call him! Surely you just need to hear his voice, that should be close enough to the real thing, right? And it’s not like he’ll even be able to tell what’s going on; a win-win!

His name pops up on your phone as you hold it to your ear, fingers still toying with your needy clit.

“Hi angel,” he purrs through the other line.

A shiver shoots up your spine - god, you fucking missed him.

“Hi, Sugu.”

He adjusts the phone, soft crinkles of his uniform catching in the microphone. “What’s got you calling me so late?”

“Just missed your voice.” And it’s not technically a lie - even just knowing he’s on the other line has your legs shaking.

“Oh?” he lets out a low chuckle. “Well, how am I to deny my pretty girl?”

You try to stifle the whine bubbling from your lips, but between the taunting softness of his voice that tickles your skin like a soft fur, and the increasing pace of your hand pumping in and out, it tumbles out before you can stop it.

Everything freezes for a moment. Maybe he didn’t hear?

The other line goes dead for a second, before you hear his breath crackling through the speaker.

“What are you doing, angel?”

Fuck. FUCK. “N-nothing?”

“No, I don’t think so.” You can hear a smirk through the words.

“I-”

“You know better than that, don’t you? To lie to me?”

“Suguru, look-”

“Let me tell you what I think is happening.”

Your motions still, your stomach clenching in anticipation.

“I think that my poor, sweet baby missed me too much and got a little desperate. I think she tried to get herself off, but realized it just wasn’t the same without her dearest Suguru.” The sweetness dripping from his tone lands in your open mouth, waiting. “I think she decided to call me in the hopes that I wouldn’t notice, or at the very least, wouldn’t punish her for disobeying. Isn’t that right?”

“Mmmmaybe,” you whine, thighs rubbing together in earnest. In fear. In desire.

For a moment, the only sound is your breathing, forcing shaky exhales from your lungs.

“Well, I guess I better help my poor desperate little slut, hm? Is that what you’d like?”

Even just his words have your head swirling, mind going foggy. You missed this, the effect he has on you. You do need him. “Yes, please, Sugu.”

His chuckle is more air than a laugh, almost a purr through the distorted speaker. “Okay, my dear. But you’ll do exactly as I say, yes?”

“O-okay.”

“First, take your hand from between your legs.”

He wants you to…stop touching yourself?

You question the order for a moment before obediently removing it, your fingertips still sticky as they rest along your stomach.

“Now, touch your chest.”

Hesitantly, you drag your palm up, gently groping your tits.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? Feels soft, right?”

And you’re almost too lost in the sensation, the gentle warmth radiating through your body, to respond, letting out a gentle hum as you knead into your flesh.

“Good girl,” he breathes, his own hand falling to palm at his growing bulge. Because even though he’s not saying it, he misses you too - the curves of your body, the swell and dips that make him melt into you. But not everything can be soft. “Place your fingers around your nipples. Start by just rubbing, fingernails circling around them.”

As you do, tingles spread from the surface into your ribs, into the beating of your heart.

“Now pinch. Hard.”

A choked gasp passes your lips at the mix of pain and shooting pleasure.

“Good job, angel. You like when it hurts, don’t you? Like to be reminded you’re nothing more than flesh and bone, a body made to be fucked, isn’t that right?”

“Y-yes,” you breathe, your voice already strained.

“Aw, I know, I know,” he coos, but there’s only a whisper of condescension in it. Because he’s no better, finding ecstasy in the unyielding rub of his swollen cock against his boxers, nails beginning to dig into his heavy balls.

Both of you soak in the throbbing pain for a moment, before he continues.

“Rest your hand on your heart, for me.”

It’s racing.

“You feel how your chest rises and falls with every breath?”

Each beat, his name.

“When you exhale, feel that wave of warmth spreading down your body. That arousal, that desire, that starts in your throat and moves all the way down, down, down. Pooling in your core, building there. Breathe with me, sweetheart.”

Inhale.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?”

Exhale.

“To be mine?”

Inhale.

“To be so desperate?”

Exhale.

Desire.

Inhale.

Exhale

Pleasure.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Suguru.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Suguru.

Suguru.

Suguru.

Everything feels soft, fuzzy. It’s all him, all Suguru.

You barely even notice the way his name falls from your lips, a chant, a prayer.

His voice is the only thing you can hear.

“I know, angel, I know.”

Inhale.

Exhale.

Suguru.

“You’re being so good for me, aren’t you? Doing just what I say?”

Inhale.

Exhale.

Suguru.

“Mmhm,” you whine.

Cool air rests behind your back as your hips begin rutting off the bed, searching for salvation. But you obey, your open palm still resting over your ribcage. Each beat of your heart, his name.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Suguru.

“You sweet, needy little thing.” His cock is out now, the quiet sound of him pumping his length almost audible to a more attentive audience, but it doesn’t even register as you listen, too lost in the lilting vowels, the softened consonants, the gentle purr of his voice, in everything that is him.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Suguru.

“Take your hand and trace that warmth, down, and down, and down. Follow it down your chest, your stomach, let your fingers just brush over your skin. It tingles, doesn’t it?”

Like electricity.

Like love.

Everything feels tight inside you, your breathing growing increasingly rapid.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Suguru.

“You’ve been so good for me, I think you deserve a reward for being so obedient, don’t you?” 

Inhale.

Exhale.

“Please, Suguru?”

And he’s smiling. “Slowly, take two fingers and trace up between your legs.”

When you finally make contact with your cunt, you can’t even stifle the moan that leaves your throat. Even at the faintest contact, you feel on fire, back arching off the bed, muscles clenching.

“Aw, you really were desperate, huh?”

“I-”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. There’s nothing wrong with that - you should feel like this, wanting to be touched, fucked, claimed. That’s what you’re made for, after all, isn’t it?”

Everything feels warm. “I-I am.”

“Yes, you are,” he purrs. “For being so, so good, why don’t you touch yourself properly, hm? Take that hand and rub your clit for me.”

When soft fingertips make contact with the twitching bundle of nerves, you practically scream. You never knew you could be so sensitive, heat shooting like lightning up your spine until it lands right back at your heart.

Each time you circle your fingers, your heart beats.

Suguru.

Your lungs expand.

Inhale.

Your muscles tighten.

Exhale.

“Suguru,” you whimper.

“Go ahead, angel.”

Inhale.

Exhale.

“Cum for me.”

Flames tear across your skin as everything goes white. Wave after wave of warmth crashes over you, your entire body convulsing under its weight.

Suguru.

Suguru.

Suguru.

A mantra.

Suguru.

A plea.

Suguru.

A prayer.

Suguru.

On the other end of the line, ragged breaths echo through his empty room as he releases onto his abdomen, coating his skin. And yet, he finds himself wishing it was your hand stroking his aching cock instead, your lips there to lap up his seed, your cunt there to milk him until you’re leaking with proof of his devotion. God, he fucking misses you.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you find yourself babbling.

Body spent, you collapse onto the bed, now cool with sweat. Your thoughts still swim, treading through the waters of Suguru.

A chuckle breaks the silence of the call.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be thanking me just yet, angel,” he hums.

Your breathing picks up its pace, heart pounding loudly.

Inhale.

Exhale.

“Oh, you poor thing. Have you forgotten already?” he hums.

Inhale.

“You still broke the rules.”

Exhale.

“And disobedience deserves to be punished.”

Suguru.

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

if i die tonight, imma make it look pretty

ft; haruka sakura, hayato suo, tasuku tsubakino, ren kaji

synopsis ; how do they feel when you wear makeup?

cw ; reader wears makeup, mentions of violence

note ; about tsubaki's gender, they use the term "watashi" in japanese to describe themself, which is used by men and women. however, the official english translators use male pronouns for them. i've seen a lot of people say that they're a male who crossdresses; that's also my personal hc, but i know that a lot of people believe that tsubaki is a trans woman, and i would also like to respect their opinion, so i will therefore be using they/them pronouns for tsubaki. please tell me if there is something that the author confirmed about tsubaki's gender that i missed!

sakura doesn't really understand why you wear makeup. he thinks you look perfect either way; you could wake up at 5 in the morning with dried drool running from the side of your mouth to your cheek and messy bed hair and he'd still think you look perfectly fine. your makeup bag on his lap, he picks up your makeup items one by one, careful to not drop them or break them. while you're applying the makeup on, you're describing to him what each one does as his eyebrows just furrow. one to make your lips a different color, one to make your eyelashes blacker...why? you already looked beautiful. but he did have to admit; he found his eyes lingering on your concentrated face applying makeup more than he really should have.

suo doesn't really care what you wear as long as it doesn't affect your health or as long as you don't feel uncomfortable with it. he can fight, both verbally and phsyically, so you can cake your entire face in makeup or wear no makeup at all and suo would just smile at you and tell you how beautiful you are. really, it has no effect on him. it's your body and face, so it should be your choice. he doesn't mind it either way. with lipstick, your lips are just a little bit redder. with mascara, your eyelashes are just a little bit fuller. physically, it doesn't affect him. there's not much of a difference, so he could care less. but the glimmer in your eye after you finish and admire your face in the mirror, the confident stride you have when walking...that was what suo loved to see.

tsubaki loves it when you wear makeup. they help you apply it often, complimenting you on how cute and pretty you look. you both go out shopping at makeup stores often, finding shades that match each other and new brands that you both might like. you guys share makeup all the time, and you both love to match eyeshadows and lipstick color. of course, after makeup, you both do skincare together, often inviting kotoha over for a sleepover. of course, if there's ever a time when you don't want to wear makeup, tsubaki would never force you. as much as they love applying makeup together with you, they love your own happiness and comfort just as much. but if you ever need help with anything makeup related, you know who to go to.

kaji despises it when you wear makeup. hates it. despises it. dislikes it. whatever word you want. he just doesn't see the point; you already look fine--no scratch that. you look more than fine; you're beautiful--so why are you spending pointless amounts of money on something that'll take too long to apply and only changes the color of your lips and skin? there was no point. he hated this. plus, whenever you're wearing lipstick and you snatch the lollipop that he was currently sucking on and suck on it for a while before giving it back, your lipstick always stained a circle of red around his lollipop. plus, you look strangely unnatural when you're wearing makeup, and he doesn't like that. he loves you when you're not actively wearing as much makeup as a circus clown.

this was so awkward to write because i've only ever worn makeup twice in my entire life🧍���♀️

[uramakimochi]

CAKE REVEAL

James Potter x Reader

SUMMARY: You make a cake for your gender reveal to surprise your husband but it doesn't go as planned. (2k words)

WARNINGS: inspired by Alyssa Joy's gender reveal tiktok, FEM!R but no use of Y/N, husband!James, fluff + comfort, R cries a bit but because she's pregnant. Sorry if the ending sucks, i was tired but i wanted to post this once and for all lol.

English is not my first language so feel free to correct me.

You had the perfect idea for your gender reveal. You had already discovered the sex of your firstborn but you wanted to surprise James, knowing his somewhat childish side and knowing that he would definitely love that kind of surprise.

So, after preparing everything you needed, you and James left the house to have a nice intimate picnic in the open air. After finding a place under the shade of a tree, you spread the blanket along the lawn and ate your lunch, enjoying the breeze that passed through your hair and the scent of the flowers on the grass that entered your nostrils.

"I have to enjoy these moments with you while i still can" James said in an almost melancholy tone, staring up at you as he lay in your lap. "When Baby Potter will be with us we won't have time to be alone like now"

You looked down at him stroking his soft, unruly locks to move them away from his forehead.

"Do you think it's a boy or a girl?" you curiously asked him.

Your husband remained with his eyes closed, enjoying the touch of your fingers in his hair as his lips curved upwards.

"To be honest, i've got no clue" he said and you smiled in amusement. "I mean, the probability is 50/50. But since you told me that you feel them kicking a lot, it seems to be a boy. A little warrior"

While your heart was pounding in your chest, you managed to keep yourself from ruining the surprise, wanting to wait a little longer before telling him everything.

"What would you like it to be?" you asked him again.

James opened his eyes, staring into yours, while you continued to caress him. And just before answering you saw his smile widen even more, as his eyes began to shine in the sunlight.

"I would really like it to be a boy. A little man with whom i can share the same passions as me, who i can teach to play Quidditch and who is a little troublemaker like me. My little partner in crime"

You moved a hand from his hair to his face to gently pinch his cheek, tugging lightly.

"Hey, i already have a James Potter to handle" you replied with a smirk. "I don't need another one who copies everything his father does"

But James took your hand from his cheek and after bringing it to his lips he kissed the knuckles softly, humming against your skin.

"If we have a boy then i know for sure that he'll be a mama's boy and that he'll love you more than anything, just like his father"

You smiled softly, your cheeks warm and your heart flipping. No matter how many years passed, James would always manage to win you over with his words, in his intent to make you feel like a schoolgirl dealing with her first crush.

"But..." he then sighed, moving his gaze upwards, between the branches of the trees that covered his view of the blue sky. "The idea of having a sweet little girl, identical to you, that i could cuddle and spoil like a princess... That would be my dream too"

He had a dreamy look in his eyes by just thinking about having a little girl and that made your heart melt.

Oh, how you loved him. He would be a wonderful father, you were sure of it. Your child wasn't born yet and you already wanted to give him another one. In fact, you wanted to give him all the children he wanted. Damn pregnancy hormones!

You leaned towards his face to give him a long kiss on his forehead, to which he closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of your soft lips on his skin. When you pulled away you looked at him lovingly.

"Well, if we have a little girl then i know she'll be crazy about you. Just like her mother"

James smiled back at hearing you say his own words and he raised himself on his elbows to sit up and gave you a kiss on the lips, while you cupped his face in your hands, pulling him towards you. Then you pulled away, but he gave you another kiss. And another. And another one again.

You giggled, placing your hand on his lips to stop him.

"You are insatiable James Potter. We haven't had dessert yet"

But he kissed your palm, then took your hand and lowered it. Before you could stop him again, he leaned forward to place a series of kisses from your neck to your cheek.

"Mh, don't get me wrong my love, i love your cooking, but frankly right now i'm craving another kind of dessert" he said with a smirk.

You didn't look at him shocked, used to his dirty jokes, but you simply tilted your head and smirked.

That was the perfect moment.

"Really? Not even when this dessert could tell you if we're having a boy or a girl?"

James stopped and pulled away to look back at you, this time confused.

"What do you mean?"

You smiled excitedly, looking forward to showing him what you had done. You turned to grab the two glass goblets you had used to drink and handed him his. Then you took the cake you had prepared, which was completely covered on the outside and decorated with some blueberries and strawberries, and placed it in front of your legs.

"While i was making the cake i colored the dough with the color of the baby's gender" you explained to him and he looked at you surprised.

"So you already know everything?" he then asked you with a small pout and you gave him a small kiss on the nose.

"Sorry honey. But i wanted to surprise you. I can't wait to see your reaction!" James then glanced at the goblet he still held in his hand.

"And what am i supposed to do with this?"

"We dig it into the cake to get our portions and see what color it is on the inside. What do you think??"

James frowned.

"Why can't we cut it into slices like normal people do?" he asked you amusedly and you gave him a fake offended look.

"Aw come on, it's more fun this way okay?"

James let out a small sigh and shrugged his shoulders, but then a wide smile spread across his lips and he gripped the glass between his fingers, looking forward to knowing the result.

"Ready?" you asked and he nodded frantically, his hands shaking. "3, 2, 1..."

You sank the glasses into the cake at the same time and when you were sure you had taken the piece of cake you lifted them to look. But when you saw the color of the cake your heart skipped a beat.

James glanced at you as his smile went from excited to uncertain.

"Green?"

You took a good look at the cake in your glass and then at the rest of the cake, noticing that the inside of it was indeed completely green. Oh no. What had happened?

"I-It's not supposed to be green" you murmured, but your smile began to falter.

James made a confused, but still amused expression.

"Well, it sure is colorful" he said, trying to lighten the mood as he looked from the cake to you. "Right?"

You nodded with a pout and placed the glass on the blanket as your lips began to quiver. And before you could hold them back, tears began to fall from your eyes.

"Oh darling" James cooed, placing his glass on the ground and sliding closer to you. "Hey, hey..."

You sniffled, trying to wipe the tears off your face, but they continued to fall down your cheeks. It was so stupid to cry over something like that, but it was stronger than you. Damn pregnancy hormones. Again.

James wrapped his strong arms around your body and held you against his, making you cry into his shoulder as he rubbed your back.

"It's okay, honey. It's okay"

"I-I swear it wasn’t green when i made it" you sobbed, rubbing your cheek against his sweater. "I'm sorry i r-ruined the surprise Jamie"

"You didn't ruin anything, it's not your fault" he murmured, turning his head to give you a couple of kisses on the temple. "You know, sometimes cakes just turn out green. These things happen. Nothing bad about it. I love green!"

And you giggled, despite the disappointment you felt in yourself, appreciating as always his attempts to make you laugh to comfort you. Typical of James Potter.

"I t-tried my best..." you sniffled again, squeezing your eyes.

"Aw i'm sure you did, lovely girl. It looks delicious"

James continued to try to comfort you for a few minutes, rocking your bodies until your sobs subsided. And as he continued to cuddle you, with his gaze fixed on the cake, an idea suddenly came to him.

"Hey, i have an idea to surprise me again" he said, making you (reluctantly) move away from his warmth so you could look him in the eyes. "But first let's dry these tears from your pretty face, hm?"

He placed his large hands on your cheeks and gently ran his thumbs under your eyes, wiping them clean of the last of the salty tears that had leaked from your now reddish eyes.

"Nothing is lost, okay? How about-" he began, as the same enthusiasm from before began to take over his body again.

One of the things you loved most about James? That he never gave up, on anything. And he would have done anything to be able to see the smile grow on your lips.

"-We use the fruit? I'll turn around and you choose what i'm going to eat. A blueberry if it's a boy or a strawberry if it's a girl"

"A strawberry, yes" you murmured, finishing along with him. "Okay. That's perfect Jamie"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah" you nodded, smiling weakly, still sad but relieved that in a short time he had managed to come up with another creative idea.

James quickly turned away from you and you took the fruit from the cake into your hand, then closed it in your fist to hide it.

"You can turn around" you called.

James rolled over with a hand covering his eyes and opened his mouth. You gently placed the fruit on his tongue and as soon as he closed his mouth to taste it, he removed his hand to look at you with wide eyes.

"We're having a boy??"

You nodded happily and he took your hands in his as he looked at you more excited than before.

"You're kidding, right?? Are we having a boy??"

"I'm not kidding James" you giggled, shaking your head.

James threw himself on top of you, holding you tighter in his arms again than before, as you felt his body vibrate with pure joy. "Oh my god i can't believe it! A boy!"

You returned the hug, as much as you could and then James pulled away, looking at you with a bright smile that seemed to reach all the way to his forehead from how big it was.

"I'm so happy i could just-"

And he leaned in to give you a quick kiss on the lips, catching you off guard, but you immediately kissed him back.

"I can't wait to tell the boys!" he exclaimed frantically as soon as he pulled away, his fingers continuing to gently caress yours. "Oh, i'm already ready to fight for your attention. Because i know for a fact that after he comes he won't leave his mommy alone even for a second"

You giggled, tilting your head and looking at him tenderly. "Both of my boys will have my attention, no need to fight"

James smiled triumphantly and pulled your hands to bring you closer to him again so you could rest your head on his chest.

"I love you so soo much, my dear" he murmured, resting his head also on top of yours, rubbing his cheek against your hair. "I know it's not my birthday but you gave me the best present ever, you know?"

"I love you too Jamie. So much"

And just because the cake you made was a different color than the one you wanted, it doesn't mean it wasn't good. You and James ate it with gusto to celebrate the future arrival of your son.

[multiwreckedmess]

Kinktober Day 17

Prompt: Threesome/Moresome Pairing: OT8 SKZ x fem!reader WC: 4.4k Summary: Maybe after this the term “comeback” takes on a new meaning.

This is a work of fiction, it does not represent any Stray Kids member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this.

I feel the need especially with “rougher” prompts like this to put the disclaimer - fanfic should NOT ever be used as a guide to relationships or sex. ESPECIALLY SEX. Again, it’s fiction. Stuff gets glossed over for the sake of a good story. Please PLEASE please again, not fact, not a guide, just a fantasy.

Additional TW/CW below the cut.

TW/CW: Gangbang, lots of cum, light bondage, reader goes nonverbal, all consenting, traffic light system and boundaries discussed, anal, piv, oral (male receiving), titfucking, multiple partners, dirty talk, multiple pet names, cumming prematurely(?), some aftercare/during care. 

 Eight pairs of hands. Eight types of touch to match their eight personalities. Sudden squeezes, languid strokes, hesitant brushes, deep pushes, light tugs, gentle pats, intermittent shy caresses, persistent strong grasps. It was Chan’s idea that you’d heartily agreed to.  “The boys have been seeming sort of down lately,” you’d mentioned over the thundering rush of dishwater. “Should I make a cake or something?”  Nose pressed to the side of your head Chan inhales deeply, squeezing the fronts your thighs. The scent of your scalp and the squish of your quads soothing his anxious mind. “We’ve been working hard. I think it’ll turn out well.”  “So…cake? Can you all eat it? I could make a carrot cake or modify-”  Chan grabs a handful of ass, not one to miss the opportunity for a bad pun. “Wouldn’t mind sharing some of this cake. I’m sure we could all enjoy it.”  “You think?”  “Baby, the reason the boys are always excited to see you…”  “It’s not the novelty of Betty Crocker Funfetti?” Chan giggles, grabbing a handful of bum as he grinds against you, an obvious lump forming in his sweatpants. “We could make you into Funfetti.”  “How do the boys feel about pie,” you ask coyly, pushing your hips back to greet him.

 That was how this whole idea started. And now you were tied to a bench, trussed up like a pretty present, holes exposed and ready. Blindfolded.

 It’s easy to sink into the sensation of each of their hands, unique in their own right. You can only really for sure name Chan’s, calloused and firm.  “...and we can do anything?” Jeongin’s voice twangs, tense at the thought. “She really will let us do anything?”  You’re only half listening, indulging in the peace of mind numbing stimulation. Moaning and nodding as your chin wrests on the bench you’re strapped over.  “She knows how to say no. Color system, if she’s unable to speak, two pinches is slow, three is stop everything.”  A chorus of tenor and baritone voices murmur in agreement. Your stomach tingles, chills passing the inches of exposed skin. You’re so ready. You’re beyond ready.

 There’s almost a ghost of a touch, floating down your side as the room shifts.  “We’re going to pass you around like the cheap whore you were born to be.” A deep bassy voice purrs in your ear, Felix. Your back arches exposing more of your holes like a cat in heat. “You like that? You like the sound of my voice, pretty? Does that turn you on? We’re all watching you.”  “Mhm,” you bite your lips and you wiggle against your confinements.  “Want me to tell you everything we’re gonna do to you? Dirty slut. First we’re all gonna give this cute little cunt a try,” you feel him slide his fingers along your slit, staying shallow enough to tease your entrance before catching the rim of your jeweled plug weighing heavily in your hole. “Chris did say we can use you however we want.” Felix muses as he pushes the end closer to your rim, jostling it just enough to earn a whine.  “Hurry the fuck up,” another voice chimes in, two fingers roughly ramming into your wet hole. Seungmin. Impatiently pressing his tip against the cleft of your ass as he fingers you open. “She’s ready, I’m ready. Keep doing your perv asmr thing but I’m fucking her.”

 With that Seungmin pushes into you, sighing with relief. Your spine curls as much as you can, spread over the bench as you are, fingers scrambling in the air.  “Oh fuck!” Seungmins hands wander over the small of your back, pushing weight down on you as his hips rock back and forth. “You have to try this pussy, god damn. Now i see why the old man is so fucking whipped.” He groans again as he pulls all the way out until only the very tip of his shaft is still sheathed. Glistening with your arousal he uses his thumbs to spread your slit wide, watching your walls stretch to accommodate him.  “Minnie’s right, you’re taking him so well. In fact, you’re going to take all eight of us aren’t you?” Felix purrs. “Now, be a doll and open your mouth for me.”  You drop your jaw, tongue lolling out, blindly accepting whatever Felix was going to give you.  Before Seungmin can build any speed and before Felix has his way with your mouth you hear a commotion at your rear. Then Seunmgin being pulled from you, leaving you jaw agape and whining from the loss of fullness.

 “Asshole, before you fuck her up we all gotta try.” Sharp words with crisp plosives cut through the confusion. Suddenly a thicker intrusion bullies its way between your walls. “Tremendous ass princess,” a hearty smack of a rough hand comes down on your ass cheek. You’re barely breathing with the thick length shoved snugly inside of you, the force of the spank has every muscle flexing to hold you together.  You moan.  Two hands grab each lobe, molding them like putty in his strong grip. Changbin. “Can’t wait to run you through.”  You’d always wondered about the rapper, most closely your type following your own boyfriend. How did his dual persona fit into his bedroom manner, how alike would he be to Chan, was it true what they said about rappers and their tongues? As suddenly as he’d entered you feel the protested drag of your walls, eager to keep him as he exits.  A thinly voiced dragged out “no” escapes your lips.  “Bok-ah, you want next?” Changbin offers, patting your ass.  You’d almost forgot Felix was there.  “I’m okay with just these pretty lips up here,” he says as he thumbs over your lower lip. Dropping your jaw again you remember he’d wanted this to begin with, before the other boys had started tag teaming your cunt.  “I’m okay too,” IN chimes in, “I can wait my turn.” He lowers his voice almost imperceptibly, just enough to sound like a cool mature guy. You could just imagine him standing a bit farther back, eyes transfixed on your glistening lips as they stretched for each of his members.  “Yeah you’re the only impatient one, meathead.” Minho. Of course Minho. His hips roll easily against you, just a taste of what’s to come. His hand runs over your ass, over the other entrance. “Got any toys for her?” He addresses the room, talking as though you couldn’t reply.

 Felix, you assume, finally taps the tip of his length against your tongue. Much to your delight he’s slightly sweeter than you’d assume as you lick against him. Chan’s reply to Minho is inaudible as Felix purrs. “You like that? Been drinking nothing but pineapple juice for you. Chris told me you’d like that.”

 Taking him fully in your mouth you bob enthusiastically focusing fully on him as two more strange new cocks slide into you all too briefly before Seungmin settles back over you, fucking you with a steady and uncomplicated rhythm. Felix is veiny, fun to explore as you run the length of him. He easily guides you the full way down, your nose pressing into his pubic bone as spit runs down your face. “Hey Chris, can we take off the blindfold?”  “Sure man, whatever you want.”  The blindfold flips up to your forehead. Luckily the lights are low enough so your eyes don’t have to adjust much. “Focus on my face sweetheart. Just want to see your pretty teary fucked out face while we ruin you.” Felix smiles as he feeds you his cock all the way to the base once more, watching you splutter and fight back your gag reflex. The tight ring of your throat squeezing him as he grinds into the wet warmth. You battle valiantly to keep your eyes looking up at him as they threaten to flutter shut, tears streaking your cheeks.  Not a second too soon he eases up, beaming down at you, thumbs wiping at your stained face. “Such a good girl for us. Chris is gonna be so proud of you.”  You smile for a second, spit burbling from your lips, before you feel Seungmins hands at your mid back, pushing you into a deeper arch. From one strong stroke you can tell he’s found it, face opening into a groan. “Do that shit again ‘Lix. I wanna see her struggle.”  “You heard the man, you ready?” He watches as you gulp and take a deep breath which is almost immediately punched out of you by Seungmin slamming his hips against you. Your fingers grip the legs of the bench as you are pressed between their bodies as deep as they can go on either end. Groaning around Felix and clasping down on Seungmin the noise in your brain crescendos and violently mutes into a peaceful fuzzy static.  Seungmin laughs as you twitch and spasm.  “Holy fuck, I can’t-” Felix struggles to keep his hips steady, eyes rolling back in ecstasy.  “I’m gonna too-” You can hear the gritting of Seungmins teeth as he speaks.  “Be good and take it all okay, take all I’ve got-” Felix mutters, spilling down the back of your throat. You gag, tears and spit and snot running everywhere as he pulls back from you, still weakly spurting on his thighs.  Barely able to breathe as Seungmin chases his high you mumble his nickname over and over. “Minnie, oh-fucking- ah-” Felix’s hand keeps your head from scraping against the bench as you become boneless, eyelids fluttering shut. Seungmin pulls from you just as you reach your high, whining and writhing in the agony of denial. Hot cum splashes across your ass slowly dripping down your thighs.

 “How’s our girl doing,” a soft melodic voice asks. “What your color darling?”  “Green,” you pant, vision still swimming. “Green green green green.”  He laughs. Hyunjin’s giggle. Good.  Slim and strong, there is always something languid about his movements. His finger tip traces your spine gently. “A beautiful sculpture should be appreciated,” he says slowly. It sends shivers running after his hands. Descending to the curve of your ass he spreads you wider, licking into your puffy oversensitive parts. Tongue lapping at you as you squeal the wet lewd sounds fill the air.  “Fuck, Hyunnie!” You practically rock the bench as you writhe. His tongue ventures to your other hole, teasing the tight bundle until you cry out. All of your fingers and toes curl and twitch as your walls clench around nothing. “Fuck me please,” you beg, voice wrecked with sobs. You’re surprised at your quick rebound but the promise of the lithe dancer is almost too much to bear.  Hyunjin’s lips graze your shoulder blade as he bottoms out in you with a shudder of effort, nearly knocking the bench forward in his attempt to get as much of himself inside of you as possible. Churning in your stomach you feel full again, fuller even. You nearly cum again, world whiting out in front of your eyes.  “That’s right pretty, all for you.” You wish you could see, could watch the man fuck into you more than anything in the world. He feels larger than you’d have ever expected from his slight frame.  Draped over you, the squelching of your two sweaty bodies pervades your mind as he humps quickly and shallowly. Chasing his high more than anything, each thrust punches you in the gut. The sounds that come from your mouth are unladylike wheezes that catch in your throat and turn into grunts. Two long fingers fill your mouth, sticky and salty from the mix of bodily fluids. Hyunjin cums mercifully quickly, spilling inside of you.  “I wanna see the other guys fuck it deeper,” he whispers, sweat dripping from his nose to your cheek. The thought gives you goosebumps.  Strong arms wrap around your back, caging over you as he undoes your buckled down arms to lift you from your post. Your toes barely sweep the floor before he has you on the nearby mattress. Changbin, stronger than your Channie, surprises you with his gentleness. For all the hurrying and jeering he’d done to the other guys, he’s suddenly soft with you.  “Hey,” he smiles all too familiarly, in a way that makes your gut stir. “Tired yet, princess? Told ya we’d run you through.”  You make grabby hands up at him, whining as you try to pull him closer.  “She usually non-verbal?” Changbin actually sounds a little concerned as he turns his head to ask your boyfriend. “Or should we- are you still good? Still green princess?”  You nod.  “If she says go, go.”  Changbin doesn’t waste another second, pushing into you aided by Hyunjin’s cum. The stretch despite the other members best efforts still forces a guttural groan from your lungs. He’s not as long as the others but the change of angle and thickness makes up for it in the best way. You can feel him bullying the plug on the other side of your walls in a way no one else has managed to do. He nuzzles into your neck as he starts fucking into you, only grunts coming from his normally busy mouth. Zoned into the singular thought of filling you.  With your hands finally free you’re able to explore his back as you scramble to hold yourself together. Your fingernails leave little crescents in the otherwise steel frame. Sturdy and unshakable as you tremor below him.  “Bin- I’m- ah-” you start to warn him of your swiftly approaching climax but he’s two steps ahead as your cunt clenches down. Arms wrapping beneath your thighs he pushes your hips just a little bit higher up. You see stars. It’s like he’s fully in your guts as he maintains his pace, fucking right into that spongy spot of yours. Mouth agape you can feel yourself wanting to make noise but your head is so full you can’t tell if its actually happening or not. All of your muscles contract at once as you climax.  “Holy shit did she-” the next thing you hear is a murmur from Jeongin. Release drips down Changbin’s pelvis as you both pant.  “Oh yeah, that’s our princess,” Changbin smiles like a champion as he slides from you, spent. Both of you are soaked in your cum, his cum, and Hyunjins cum. Grabbing the box of baby wipes he starts to clean himself off before he sees Chan start to clean your thighs. You barely notice he’s waddled off and back until you are being propped up between his thighs, a straw passing between your lips. “Drink for a good job.”

 The click of a cap is like fingers snapping, awakening you from your fucked foggy state. You look up and back to see Minho’s upsidedown bemused smirk as he watches the meatheads treat you like the sentient communal fuck doll that needs a tune up. Slowly he strokes himself, appraising you.

 “Jiji, care to join? I think this one has room for two.”  “Huh? Y-yeah,” you hear the taut voice of Han on the opposite side of the room.  “Hey, big boy, move.” Minho is less gentle with him, sliding behind you to take his place behind you, holding you between his thighs as Changbin had. His hands spread you wide open to the room, fingers grazing over the plug still nestled between your cheeks. The nearly icy drip of lube tickles your other hole, sliding around the stem of the plug. A deep breath in helps relax and allow the applier to slowly fuck the metal in and out..  Minho chuckles and smacks your thigh, your hole clenching down suddenly. “Are you tired? Huh? Too many cocks? Be thankful there’s only eight of us.” Thumb positioned on the end of the jeweled plug he slowly teases, swirling in languid circles as you writhe. Each nudge has your stomach tensing, desire growing within you.  Han Jisung is standing in front of you as you look dazed up at him. Blood rushes to his cock so fast he swears he might pass out from the loss to his brain. He watches as Minho finally fully tugs the plug from your fluttering hole and lifts you, slowly spearing you on his cock. Your chest heaves as you slide, mouth open and panting. Minho’s fingers fill your cunt, the sloppy sound of several fluids mixing reverberates in his skull.  “You going to stand there or fuck her?” Minho casually nods down to his fingers. “There’s room. Right, doll?”  You nod mutely, wriggling your ass on him.  Han dives head first into your cunt, eagerly pushing his tongue deep inside of you, lapping at Minho’s soaked fingers. Your legs threaten to snap shut on his head as your oversensitive pussy sends waves of bliss through your body. Minho keeps you locked open as he rocks himself slowly against your ass just barely moving his cock inside of you. It isn’t like he has to do much with Han’s tongue flicking so desperately at your slit.  Groaning, you’re unsure of whose name to call out. Minho or Han?  “Going to cum again? Thought you might be too worn out.”  “H-ha,” you half laugh and moan. You want to boast and brag but the hubris is fucked far from you. Back arching, your hole clenches down on him. You’re so very very close. His hands migrate to your tits, grabbing them, letting the space between his fingers lightly pinch your soft skin. They’d been so neglected and needy that the sudden attention pushes you over the edge, cumming hard on Han’s tongue. He continues to lap at you through it, not stopping until Minho tugs at his hair.  “Jiji, where do you wanna cum, I’m close.” Minho grunts. Sweat travels down his brow.  Han makes a quick appraisal of you, “wannafuckhertits.”  You’re tossed like a ragdoll to the mattress again, Minho easily positioning you on your back with your legs slung around his hips. Han straddles your chest, thighs are warm on your ribcage. His cock is practically drooling precum as he slides it between your mounds, quickly slicking up with your sweat. Squishing the sides together his eyes lock where the head of his cock pops out and disappears. Your tits are so hot around him as his precum slicks the valley between.  “Open,” he commands breathily, waiting for your lips to part. The second they do he drags the pad of his thumb over the wet inner side, pulling them open more. Your tongue naturally hangs out loosely, eyes glazed over. You’ve long given up any pretense of modesty. Of pretending this wasn’t exactly what you’d hoped for. His hand goes to the back of your skull to support your head as you crane forward to attempt to kiss his member. Grunting and straining you’re both working so hard for it as Minho pounds away and jostles you just enough to increase the difficulty.  You feel Minho climax, warmth spreading inside of you. He barely misses a beat as his leg clenches, sinking deeply into you, holding your legs aloft. Your eyelids flutter and toes curl. It feels good to be this full. Feels good to be this filthy. You stretch your tongue just the bit longer and feel contact, hot and salty. Ropes of hot cum jet across your chest and chin and lips as Han’s breath hitches. He freezes and gasps, staring as his cock continues to dribble onto your clavicle.  “Shit I-”  “Ssfine -s’good.”  He stares at his handy work.  “Clean it.” Minho says from behind his back. “Clean your mess.”  Han moves quickly without questioning him, licking across all the streams that he’d shot only looking up, ostensibly to Chan to check if he could clean your lips. The only one to dare to do so, tentatively licking your bottom lip before fully taking it between his lips. Not fully locking into a kiss, not quite.  Your stomach churns as you return to emptiness, only your boyfriend and the youngest left. The others preoccupying themselves with clean up and their own after care.  “How do you want ‘er?” Chan lifts your torso up off the bed and into his arms again, plying you with water. A quick kiss to the cheek asuages any fear that he wasn’t also enjoying himself. “C’mon maknae. Top? Side? Back? She’s got just enough left in her. Don’t you, my sweet thing?”  You nod, “how do you want me?”  It’s only a moment of consideration longer as his eyes linger on your pussy, red and raw. Jeongin’s sweet smile looks all the more sinful as he nears. He slides you into his arms with a surprising ease. A look of shock flashes across your face as he lifts you on to his cock, still standing. Chan had fucked you standing occasionally, but you hadn’t expected this of Innie. Your sweet Innie. Squealing as you let gravity bounce you off his hips, driving him deeper and deeper, clit aching as the blunt pressure hits each time. You’re practically grappled to him, arms locked over his shoulders and ankles crossed behind his back.  Curses spill from your mouth like a prayer. Everything burns bright as you hurtle towards your climax. The thrumbing of your pulse rings in your head and your breath catches. But Jeongin falters slightly, his own breath catching suddenly as well, fingers digging into the meat of your ass. His cock slips between your bodies as he fumbles a few thrusts. A sudden spurt of warmth hits your thigh and stomach. Jeongin is swearing.  “You didn’t- I’m sorry I-”  You blink at him bemused.  He sighs into your shoulder, “I came already.”  “Oh? Oh don’t worry about it I-”  “I wanted to make you cum.”

 The puff of air from your short giggle tickles his throat. Your lips are warm where they kiss his cheek. “You’re so cute.”  As your arms start to burn you’re ripped from Jeongin’s arms and tossed unceremoniously to the bed again. A strong grip wraps around your ankle and tugs your ass to the edge of the mattress. This was how you’d assumed Changbin would be. Instead you see Chan’s wide grin looking over you.  “You look so fucking hot babe.” He praises you as he pushes his cock into your ass, watching your eyes roll back into your skull. “Love it when you’re fucked out like this. When all you can do is take cock.”  You shudder. Tired and overwhelmed and needy under him. Sticky. He feels…good. Its the only word your tired mind can center on. You feel good.  “Innie- you wanna make her cum right?” Chan asks over his shoulder. “Grab that er…big white thing with the blue buttons and c’mere.” Momentarily he leans forward to kiss you, letting his hips gently rock into you. You whimper. He nuzzles you. “Doing alright, sweet thing?”  You nod into his shoulder. “Tired.”  “Don’t worry, princess, I’ll do everything,” Chan pushes the sticky strands of hair back from your face and turns to his group mate. Jeongin barely weighs the bed down as he crawls to your side. “She’ll cum quick so make sure that fucker is set low okay? She’s had a long night already.” Jeongin nods. The toy whirrs to life and he starts to lower it. “Check it on yourself first, bro.” Chan knocks the toy back. “Inside of your wrist.”  You hear a few clicks. Chan locks eyes with you, he looks like a god between your legs. He carefully stretches one to kiss your calf. His cock stirs your insides, thick bastard. You moan and close your eyes. You trust him.  Jeongin carefully places the toy over your mound, your back arching away from the bed. Chan instructed him well.  “Talk her through it.”  “Huh?”  “She likes it when you talk to her, she won’t talk back but she’ll sound really pretty.”  You gasp and whine. He’s right.  Jeongin’s voice is smooth above the buzz of the toy, talking just under his breath enough for only the three of you to hear. “Our prettiest girl did so well for us. Making all your boyfriend’s friends cum. You really are made for taking cock, no wonder Channie hyung keeps you all locked up. Just imagine the trouble we’d get in if he let you into the practice room.”  Another gasp. You can see it, you’re there with him and with Chan at the same time.  “Couch broken. Mirror streaked with sweat and cum. We’d ruin it. But you’d like that. Show everyone who’s girl you are. Right? You’re our princess.”  Your legs are shaking as you nod. Chest tightening again your gut coils in anticipation.  “Can our princess cum again? Please?”  Your legs tremble in answer, hand reaching out to wrap around Jeongin’s bicep. He can see the tension in your neck as your muscles clench all the way to the top of your skull. You’re so so so painfully nearly there.  “Tight lil’ hole ‘s likea vice-” Chan manages to slur. “Ah, fuck, baby-” his voice crackles as he sucks in air through his clenched teeth,”-cum with me darling. Be a good girl.”  Everything happens in a flash, your breath hitching, head thrown back. A magnificent groan spills from your gaping mouth, almost loud enough to rattle the vibrator back. Chan slows as your hips stutter and kick, his warmth spreading inside you as your walls milk him. Jeongin stares wide eyed, vibrator dropping off to your side, as he watches you flood his friend’s pelvis and thighs. His own stomach caves as weak spurts of ejaculate dribble down to the bed.  Chan pulls from you and bundles you into a little ball on your side. Kissing your arms and legs as he instructs the rest of the boys in their clean up duties. You’d done enough, you didn’t need to worry about this, you never needed to worry about this part of the night. Chan made sure of that. Your tired limbs are lifted to a warm tub, eyes too weary to open. Many trusted hands hold you as they carefully wash the filth from you. Their touches are less distinct now as you lean into them. All warm, all sure, all caring. One or many, you couldn’t tell. Your boys, all of them.

ngl i blacked out and wrote this. i have not re-read. i’m sorry if its not coherent.

[haetrack]

pro: love: add

hacker!haechan x afab!reader

wc: 11.6k

warnings: smut, little plot, they are PERVERTS, slight invasion of privacy, esex, masturbation, praising, degradation, overstimulation, edging, sex meetup, oral, unprotected sex (NO!), switch!haechan, switch!reader, mentions of panty sniffing, breeding, fleshlight, this is all very unrealistic and i also know nothing about hackers thank u (also this represents haechan in no way)

a/n: HAPPY BDAY TO MY SPARKLY PRINCESS!!! this is the best guy ever... hope everyone enjoys my little present :3

if you asked him how he became a member of an underground maybe-not-so-ethical kinda-not-really mafia group, he wouldn’t know what to say.

when he was younger, he took interest in the technology around him. because of this interest, he finds himself in front of his laptop, quickly hacking into some random company’s firewall for his boss. he doesn’t mess with anything else, grabbing some information of a person he doesn’t know to send off.

he puts all the information about the man in a well protected folder and sends it off. that’s really all he does. he’s someone who works behind the scenes, unlike his other group members who have a more up close hand in everything. he wouldn’t want to either way, finding the solidarity and animosity in his room to be just right.

it was easy for haechan to get used to this lifestyle. he never really had too many people to talk to before, so now he gets to make easy money in the comfort of his home without talking a lot. he can do everything in his apartment without having to go out much, either. 

he yawns before closing all the windows on his screen. he’s done all the work he was assigned today, but he doesn’t know what he wants to do next. he takes his glasses off his face, hand moving to rub at his eyes before he slumps against his gaming chair. his hands fall to his lap, one of his thumbs massaging the soft skin of his inner thigh.

he smirks to himself, quickly acting on impulse as he moves to palm the front of his shorts. his cock twitches at the touch as he sighs contently at the feeling. his head rolls back against his seat, shutting his eyes as he gets hard. he bites his lip, his hand moves to slide under the waistband of his shorts and boxers-

he’s cut off by his phone buzzing loudly at the corner of the desk. he debates on not answering, but when he brings his phone close to his face, he curses. he sits up a bit before sliding his glasses back on, grumbling to himself as he answers the phone.

“what do you want, mark?”

“all i did was call you and you’re already mad,” mark huffs.

haechan rolls his eyes, “please hurry up and tell me why you called me.”

he can hear mark clear his throat, “johnny’s asking if you’ve sent that information he needs.”

haechan can feel his own mood turning sour. his tongue pokes at his cheek, “you can tell johnny that he can ask me that himself.”

it’s silent for a few moments on the other side of the call. haechan wants to scream at mark for taking so long when he could be doing other things. he feels his blood turn cold when he hears johnny’s voice, “hey, haechan? i need you to send those files before i make sure that your pay gets cut.”

“y-yeah, sorry! i just sent them a bit ago. please don’t reduce my pay, i might actually die.” 

johnny laughs lightly, haechan sighing in relief at the sound, “i wouldn’t do that to you. you’re lucky that you’re funny.”

haechan cries out a thank you to him, causing the other two to laugh. he waits for them to calm down before beginning, “let me know if you need anything else. i have to go, i was a little busy before you called.”

mark’s voice sounds from the call, “doing?”

johnny interrupts, “probably something nasty.”

“no! why do you always say that?”

“what else should i expect from a guy who does shit with his computer and stays inside all day?”

haechan groans, “whatever. i’m hanging up.”

haechan is quick to turn his phone on silent before throwing it somewhere on his bed. he isn’t hard anymore, but now he’s too desperate to just ignore it. he opens a private screen on his computer before scrolling for a bit. he doesn’t want to watch porn, doesn’t want to read it, but there’s something he wants to try.

he’s heard through small forums of this website that allows you to chat with an online service that adjusts to your preferences automatically. he finds it after some time, hands slightly shaky as he presses on the link. it’s a nice looking website, stating some information before he can actually get into it. he wonders what mechanisms were used to make it. he can’t help it.

he skims through the information before clicking the start button. he’s met with the sight of an anime-looking girl, one that he’d find on hentai. the voice calls out to him, what would you like to do with me tonight?

he’s quick to type out, ive been so busy. just need someone to take care of me.

the character on the screen leans forward more, exposing more of her chest. haechan bites his lip at the sight, her voice calling out again, yeah? want me to take care of you? make you feel nice and good?

he responds with a yes, quickly shimmying out of his shorts as his cock strains in his boxers. it’s not often that he gets to talk like this with someone, even if this someone isn’t real. he’s too horny to care, not when he’s already been denied once. the character smiles at his response, groping at its chest. haechan watches closely, eyes hooded as he once again palms himself.

it must be so hard for you, right? the character says, getting bossed around all day when all you wanna do is get taken care of. i’ll do anything you want me to. 

there’s a voice-to-chat option, but haechan isn’t really sure he wants to do that for his own privacy. he’ll manage to type with one hand while his other grips around his clothed length. make yourself feel good w me, want u 2 tell me when to cum.

the character agrees quickly, the screen pushing back to get its whole body in frame. it’s clad in only panties, smiling at him before speaking, are you gonna touch yourself for me? let me see how big your cock is?

he slides his boxers down just enough to get his length out. it slaps against his stomach, leaking at the tip. he didn’t realize how needy he was until now, easily wrapping his fist around his length. it’s easy for him to give in, the character’s words drifting to his ear, causing small whines to fill the air.

he tunes it all out eventually (not counting when he gets praised). he can’t stop thinking about how bad he wants to do this with someone in real life. he always says it’s because he’s too busy with his job, but he knows he can’t keep lying to himself. he pretends that sweet voice that’s calling out to him is someone real, sitting right on top of him as he gets whispered praises.

his hand wraps around his cock tighter at the thought, his hips bucking up into his fist. he licks his lips as his other hand trails up his hand, his fingers brushing over his nipple. quiet whimpers fill the air, and there’s nothing he wants more than to moan out someone’s name. 

he could give everything to someone. he’d be so obsessed, practically at their beck and call. he just needs to put all this energy and desperation he has somewhere. he isn’t a loser, isn’t gross, but it’s hard to deny it all when he’s getting off to a character calling him sweet and coaxing him to an orgasm.

he bites down on his lip to stop the pathetic moan that tries to slip out. he’s not typing anymore, listening in to what the voice is telling him to do. speed up, show me how bad you need it, and all haechan can do is obey and fuck his fist faster. 

sobs sound throughout his room as his fist tightens around his tip, his thumb teasing at it. he no longer cares about how loud he’s being, no longer cares about denying how pathetic he looks right now. all he wants to do is cum, wants someone to come over so he can stuff all of his cum inside of a warm pussy.

it doesn’t take much longer, cum spurting all over his fist as he pinches at his nipples, loud whimpers slipping out of him. his ears are ringing, the voice speaking to him inaudible as he rides out his high. his hips twitch when he tries to overstimulate himself, a breathy laugh slipping out of his mouth.

the character looks fucked out, cheeks red as if it came down from its own orgasm. there’s a small smirk on its face, thanking him for everything, telling him just how good he’s been. haechan lays back onto his chair, heavy breaths beginning to even out. it’s when he hears the voice speak up again:

thanks for being such a good boy, lee donghyuck.

haechan’s heart stops. what did it just say? 

it was easy getting all of his information.

you don’t really tap into the chats happening on your website, but this one piqued your interest. the fake name put in sounded too familiar, something you're sure you’ve heard before. you can’t miss out on this opportunity of possibly getting to see one of the most renowned hackers. 

when you dig a little deeper, you’re met with some information about him. you’d think for a hacker, he’d be a little more protective about his information. it’s all laid out in front of you, almost as if he were begging for someone- for you to find it.

you can’t help but fuck with him a little. you make the character that he’s talking to call him by his real name. that’s all you were gonna do, really, besides look over his chat (to which you find out he likes being called a good boy). you know what he’s capable of, and if this is really him, you don’t want anything to happen to you.

except, you don’t really take into account how good he is at what he does, and you’re quick to get a call from someone you don’t know. you ignore it, obviously, given the circumstance you’re in. you should block the number seeing how you’re being spammed with calls, but you can’t get yourself to. you want to see how far this can go, to see if it’s really him, and just to make fun of him a little.

after what seems like the twentieth call, you finally pick up. it sounded like he was hyperventilating for a moment, but you assume he saw that you actually answered with how quiet he got. you don’t want to talk first, none of this is really your fault. you can hear him suck in a breath before he speaks, “who are you and what did you just do?”

“well, if you got my number, i’m assuming you already know who i am.”

he’s mumbling to himself in words you can’t hear. you should be scared, but knowing he just got off on your website makes this whole thing funnier. he can’t exactly report you, either. he would have to prove how he got your number when he doesn’t even know you.

“what made you even look into my conversation?” he pauses for a bit, probably recounting the whole chat, “i wasn’t even doing anything wrong?”

“your username seemed pretty familiar to me. sounded like something i’ve definitely heard before.” you pause, letting your words sit in the air. you can hear his breath pick up, trying to pull himself together at the possible thought of being caught. you start again, “are you… 6sunfull?”

he doesn’t speak. you don’t need him to say that he is, the silence tells you everything you need to know. you speak again, “you know, for being such a good hacker, you kinda suck at hiding your information.”

“how did you even find it? if it’s how i’m thinking, then that’s like, a total invasion of my privacy!”

you laugh, “that’s crazy coming from you. isn’t your whole job all about invading other people’s privacy?”

“it’s different!” he lets out an exasperated noise, “you run a porn website, think about your customers privacy!”

you splutter out a laugh, “look, i’m not gonna report you or anything. i just think it’s funny that someone like you was begging to be taken care of.”

“how do you even know that i’m that hacker? what if i’m just a random person getting my info taken away from me?”

“one, you got my number out of nowhere. two, you knew how i got your information. you’re used to this. plus, your birthday was basically in your username.”

an annoyed sound comes from his side of the call, “all i used was a six! whatever. i don’t want to talk about this anymore. do whatever with that information.” he quickly hangs up afterwards. you can’t blame him, you would probably try to run away from this, too. he didn’t ask you to block his number either, which tells you should let him take his time.

after all, he sounded too cute to let go.

a few days pass and you haven’t heard from him.

you’ve been trying to pretend like you don’t want to text him or you don’t want him to call you, but it’s been hard. he hasn’t been back on your website, hasn’t shown any sign of thinking about you. you’re not sure why you’re so invested, but knowing that you might be one of the only people who knows who he is helps.

but today, you get a text from the same unknown number from the other night.

unknown: you’re not going to report me to the police or anything… right

you: why would i do that

knowing that he’s on his phone, you’re quick to press the call button. it rings a few times before he decides to answer, a smile beginning to form on your face. you want to start talking, but he decides he wants to speak first, “i will send you whatever amount of money you want if you don’t snitch.”

“who says snitch anymore? and it’s too embarrassing for me to go to a police station and tell them i found a hacker who was on my pornsite.”

by the tone of his voice, you can tell he’s embarrassed, “thanks, i guess…” 

“you do owe me, though. for not ratting you out.”

“what do you want me to do?”

you know exactly what you want, “just for you to talk to me. i’m giving you the chance to talk to someone, donghyuck.”

you can hear him scoff on the other side, “who says i don’t talk to anyone? and don’t call me that, it’s weird. just call me haechan.”

ignoring him, you continue, “just trying to be nice. maybe next time you won’t have to use my website and instead you can just text me.”

“what?”

“only a suggestion. you don’t have to, but i’m just putting it out there. if you’re that desperate to use a pornbot, you can just use me instead.”

the words you said the other day were only meant to tease haechan.

after you finished speaking, you could hear him choke on his own breath, trying to calm himself down. you laughed it off, but you didn’t realize how much it impacted him. you played it off as a joke, trying to move on before he could think about it any further. he said he had other things to do, trying to hang up before you could continue. you hope you didn’t take anything too far.

you realize why he wanted to hang up so quickly when you’re met with a call late in the evening. lazily answering the call, you greet haechan. there’s silence on the other side of the call. you wait for him to speak, but you’re met with an airy groan as a response. your heart stops beating for a bit, and you quietly ask, “what’s wrong?”

when he speaks, it’s pitchy and breathy all at the same time, “t-thought you said… thought you said you could help me…”

did you really mean it? when you said you wanted to see how far this could go, you didn’t mean it like this. you start to mull over your options, but at your silence, you can hear the slick noise of haechan fucking his fist. the thought makes your body heat up, any thoughts you had were thrown out the window. how desperate is he to do it so openly in front of you?

it’s like he already knows that you would agree. he lets out a hushed whimper that almost sounds like your name, and you can’t help how your thighs squeeze together. you bite your lip, imagining how exactly he might look right now. you wonder why he decided to call you up, someone who’s practically a stranger, instead of someone else. 

you give in out of pure curiosity, only wanting to know more about what made haechan come to you. out of the few conversations you had, he wants you to help get him off, he wants to hear your voice telling him to cum. it’s why you ask, “are you going to tell me what you’re doing right now?”

“i’m… i was thinking about what you said to me. thought about what you would say to me, how you might sound… wanted to hear your pretty voice.”

you move to your bed, laying against the headboard as you get comfortable. you slide down your shorts, squeezing your thighs once more. you can feel how uncomfortably wet you are, feeling how you clench around nothing at the sound of haechan whining.

you try to stop your voice from being so shaky before you speak, “aren’t you embarrassed? moaning like this in front of a stranger?”

you can hear the sound of him fucking his fist faster, “d-don’t care. you’ve already seen how i’m like, spying on me and all… you probably like this, too.”

you scoff into the mic, but he’s right. he’s being so shameless, but you can’t help but feed into it. you do want to make him hold out though. you want to see him beg, just like he was on the chat. just this once, you’ll give into him. you breathe out, “you just need my help, hm? just need me to take care of you and make you cum?”

he’s moaning, obviously too horny to care about how loud he’s being. he laughs a little at how your teasing him for his messages, “wanna see you cum, too. please cum with me.”

you hum, “don’t know if you deserve it, you were getting off without me.”

“please? wanna hear you and how wet your pussy is.”

you can’t help but whimper at his words, causing haechan to moan louder than you. your hand slides down over your panties, teasing yourself while haechan continues to get off on the call.

he picks up on how quiet you’re being, choosing to take over, “you’re touching yourself, too, right? stopped teasing me so much so you can touch your pretty pussy?”

you hate how much his words get to you, trying to hide your noises by biting down on your lip. he’s not even trying to be mean, he’s just rambling, saying all the thoughts he has out loud for you to hear.

“would you be mad if i said i looked up what you look like? just wanted- wanted to see how you looked like. it’s not fair that you already know how i look.”

you moan out, your fingers circling your clothed clit at his words. you don’t care about how obvious you’re being anymore, not caring how haechan could probably hear how desperate you are. if anything, the groan he lets out tells you everything you need to know.

his voice is whiny, “wanna see you, w-wanna see you cum. are you gonna cum, too? wanna see it… can i please facetime you, i just- i’m so close.”

“fuck… are you sure? aren’t you worried that-”

“no, i don’t care. promise, just need to see you. i’m gonna cum without you if you keep on-”

you hang up the call before he can finish his sentence, a smile forming on your face as a minute passes by. you quickly facetime him, greeted by the sight of the upper part of haechan’s face. his bangs brush over his eyes, which widen in shock when he realizes you called back. his head tilts back into his gaming chair, a moan slipping out at the sight of you smiling at him.

you laugh, “are you gonna let me see all of you?”

he blinks back at you, shyness seemingly taking over him, “i-i thought you didn’t wanna talk to me so i kinda… let myself cum.”

you let out an astounded laugh at his words, watching as he props his phone on his desk, showing you the mess he made. his shirt was lifted enough for all his cum to miss it, shorts tugged down as if he was rushing to touch himself. his cheeks are flushed, biting his lip as he shyly watches your reaction. you tilt your head, “do you think you can cum again?”

“only if i get to see you,” he pushes the hair out of his eyes so he can see you better. he can’t look away once you set your phone against your pillow, letting haechan drink in the sight of you. it’s almost embarrassing for you as he lets out a loud whine when he sees that you’re only wearing an oversized shirt and your panties. he pants, “you look so much better like this, needed more than just your voice.”

“yeah?” you slip a hand between your thighs, “nothing’s ever enough for you, right?”

you watch as he swipes his fingers through the cum on his stomach before wrapping his hand around his length, his hips twitching at the feeling. he’s trying to hold back his moans, trying to fight through the overstimulation as he starts moving his fist. his eyes watch you with intent, just waiting to see what you do next. “slow down if you wanna cum with me,” you sigh, “you’re gonna cum without me again.”

“yeah, sorry, just-” he hesitantly pulls his hand away from his cock, choosing to run it over his stomach. his hand pushes his shirt up, brushing his fingers over his nipples as he lets out a small whine. his eyes focus on you again, “you just look so good right now, can’t help myself.”

“really?” you ask, hand slipping under your panties to rub at your clit. you swallow down a moan, “all you wanna do is stuff me full of your cock, hm? take care of me, too?”

“yes, please. wanna do it so fucking bad. wanna fuck you full of my cum.” his eyes flutter shut, the thought being too much for him to handle. his eyes shoot open when he hears a choked whimper come out of you, realizing that you pulled your panties aside for him to see. even though it’s dark in your room, he’ll take anything he can get.

“isn’t that too much to ask from a person you barely know?”

“d-don’t act like you don’t like it. you’re just as bad as me, getting yourself off to a stranger.”

you clench at his words before giving in and teasing a finger into your cunt. all you can think about is him, the sounds of his moans and how hard his fucking his hand surrounds you. he can’t help it either, eyes glued on how your finger slides in and out of you. he debates on turning his volume all the way up when he swears he can hear how wet you are.

you slip a second finger inside, moaning at the feeling. hearing haechan whimper, your eyes focus on the screen, watching as his hand tightens around his base, stopping himself from cumming right away. you let out a shaky sigh, calming yourself down before speaking, “i’m almost gonna cum, too, just wait for me.”

“i just wanna-” his fist wraps around his tip, hips fucking into the tight space, “wanna do it for you. wanna finger you, wanna fuck you, wanna eat you out. i can do whatever you want.”

your palm rubs against your clit, your thighs beginning to shake. he sounds so desperate, just from seeing you like this. even though you’re a stranger, he can’t help but want you. everything about him screams that he’s a gross pervert, but that only draws you in more. he might just bring out the worst in you. 

“you’ll let me play with you, too, right? let you fuck my mouth, let me touch you how ever i want? let everyone know that you’re mine?”

he nods quickly, moans of your name spilling out of his mouth as he tells you he’s about to cum. you feel the same, one of your hands sneaking up to pinch at your nipple. haechan’s eyes struggle to stay open, watching you get yourself off just because of him. he’s the one making you feel good, all through the sight of him and his words.

“fuck, can you show me your tits? wanna- wish i could cum all over them.”

you pull up your shirt to expose your chest, haechan cumming for the second time this night at the sight of you on display for him. his hand pinches at his nipple, matching your movements as he rides out his orgasm. you follow right after, cumming at the sight of him looking so fucked out. 

haechan tries to catch his breath again, letting out a breathy laugh, “god… i should’ve taken a screenshot.”

your post-orgasm haze is ruined by his words, “why can’t you be normal and just ask for a nude later?”

“isn’t it more romantic knowing that i wanted to capture something so beautiful in the heat of the moment?”

you frown at him, watching as he pulls a tissue from his desk, wiping off the cum on his chest, “knowing you have tissues on your desk tells me that you know nothing about being romantic.”

a pout forms on his face, trying to make himself look more presentable as if he didn’t just cum right in front of you. you can’t deny that he doesn’t look good, and now that he brings his phone closer to his face, you can see just how good he looks. there’s a few moles adorning his face, tying all of his pretty features together.

he notices you staring for too long, smirking a bit, “you can’t be mean to a stranger like that! you’ll help me learn to be a little more romantic, right?”

as much as you want to say no, you’re forced to agree when you see the hopeful look in his eyes.

you’ve been talking to haechan a lot more.

he’s been telling you his interests other than coding and hacking. he lets you in on his day to day life, even when all he’s done was work. you think it’s cute how he calls you for things other than sex. you’ve gotten texts from him asking what he should eat for lunch, calls ranting about an episode from a show he’s watching. you like that he’s trying to get close to you.

you wonder if he’s ever had someone to talk to like this. even though he told you he talks to his coworkers, there’s only so much you can talk about with people you work with. especially if it’s for an underground-basically-illegal business. you try not to think about it too much, especially with how happy haechan gets when he has a chance to talk to you. 

today he called you while you were in the middle of fixing a bug that was reported on your website. he didn’t text you early that morning, and you didn’t want to bother him assuming that he was busy. you weren’t expecting his call, but you welcome it.

“why are you calling me at the grocery store?”

he laughs as if it’s the most normal thing, “people call at the grocery store, it’s normal. plus, i was feeling a little lonely. who else would i have called?”

“fine. right now i’m trying to see what’s wrong with my code. someone reported today that there was something wrong with my website.”

“those poor people.”

“haechan, you were one of those ‘poor people.’” 

he brushes you off, saying that he’s better than all of them now that he has you. he tells you that he’s getting a few things to make lunch for himself later. he was busy with work earlier, but he can’t tell you exactly what he was doing, not right now. it’s easy to forget that everything he does is supposed to be a secret, even from you.

“so, you’re gonna cook? you don’t seem like a good cook.”

“hey! i am a very good cook, you just have to trust me. i just needed to pick up a few things.”

you halfheartedly scan through the lines of code, not in any rush to fix anything. it wasn’t that important, not when the thought of haechan looking domestic seems to get stuck in your head. “yeah?” you hum, “wish i was there with you, wish i could try some.”

the laugh he lets out causes you to smile, not being able to fight off the effect he has on you. there’s a part of you that really does want to see him. how he might lean over the stove, his shoulders on display for you as you watch from behind. you lose your train of thought, hearing haechan grumble about them not having the right product.

“you know, if i was there, watching you cook, i wouldn’t be able to help myself.”

you can hear how his mumbling abruptly stops, catching onto the meaning of your words. if only you had facetimed him, you would’ve been able to see his face. he wouldn’t be able to hide behind his screen like he is now. you start again, “wish i could hug you from behind, maybe kiss your neck a bit if you’d let me.”

he whispers into his phone as if other people can hear you, “you’re gonna tell me this while i’m in the produce section? please calm down.” 

you let out a light chuckle, “as if you don’t like it.”

“why are you trying to get me hard in a grocery store? you need to be normal.”

you shrug, forgetting that he can’t see you, “it’s your fault you take everything i say seriously.”

it’s quiet again, and you assume haechan is trying to calm himself down. you can’t help but continue, “i hope when you cook, all you can think about is my hands all over you, especially where you need me the most.”

he speaks up again, soft, just for you to hear, “say one more thing and i’ll have to jerk off in the store’s restroom.”

laughter slips out of you, unable to keep yourself serious at the thought, “in the store’s bathroom? you really are a gross pervert!”

“stop! you are, too! you like seeing me be like this!”

you can’t deny it, so you let out a dreamy sigh, “you can just show me later, instead.”

and who is he to say no to you?

you always knew that haechan had a dirty mouth.

in all of the calls you both shared together, he always managed to say something that would catch you off guard. days where he wants to fill you up with his cum, days where all he wants is for you to call him a needy slut, other days where he threatens to buy a fleshlight if he can’t fuck you soon. this is who haechan is as a person, and you find yourself following his ways.

today, though, he really can’t stop talking.

he must’ve been worked up, trying to start the call as normal as one can before he eventually breaks down. in his own words, all he wants to do is “be smothered by your pussy.” as much as you want to cringe at his words, you can’t help the way your body heats up at the thought of him only thinking about you.

“fuck, just wanna taste.”

his eyes are zeroed into how wet you are, how all he can hear is the squelch of your pussy through his headphones. all he wants for you to do is shove your fingers in his mouth, letting him get a taste of how sweet you are. “please, i could make you feel so good. i just know you taste so good, smell so good, too.”

you let out a weak moan of his name, your body needing nothing more than for him to take care of you. his eyes are dazed, watching how his hips fuck into his fist just from the sight of you. you think he might just be a little bit obsessed with you, memorizing all the points of your body just from his phone.

“i wouldn’t stop eating you out until you’re begging me. wanna feel you pull at my hair and push me away. just need it so bad, need you so bad.”

“y-yeah?” you breathe, “do i need to send you some panties in the mail? p-perverts like you like that, right?”

he lets out a fuck, gripping at his base. through the low light and the slight grain on his phone, you can see pearly cum leak out of his tip, watching him willingly ruin his own orgasm. his whole body is shivering, and even in the darkness you can see how his cheeks are pink. there’s shock written on your face, and he just lazily smirks at you, “only wanna cum good if you’re feeling good with me.”

“then show me how good i should be feeling.”

he’s quick to continue his ministrations, curses leaving his mouth as he fucks through the overstimulation, whimpers filling the air. you swear you can see a few tears leave his eyes, his back arching up for your touch, wishing that you could just reach through the screen.

“j-just wanna,” a moan cuts him off, “wanna show everyone you’re mine. wanna mark you, wanna fuck you full of my cum.”

“wanna show me off? let everyone know just how good you fuck me?”

his free hand begins pinching at his nipple, causing his hips to stutter a bit, “of course. i’d record us, watch every single time i miss you. i’d post it to your website, too. make sure everyone knows that you’re mine.”

“all they’re gonna see is how good i can fuck you, watch how i can make you all fucked out.”

“wan’ it, want it so bad.”

“you always say that you’re gonna be the one fucking me, but that’s my job, right? you’d let me use you like a little toy? taking everything i give to you?” your own movements speed up as you watch him fall apart at your words. you can’t imagine how he’d be in real life if he’s acting like this over a call.

“fuck yes. all i wanna be is yours, i’ll do whatever you ask me to.”

you can tell he’s close, hand speeding up over his cock as he writhes around in his seat. you can hear all of the sounds he’s making, wanting nothing more than to cum at the thought of you two together. however, you cut through his thoughts, “then will you stop touching yourself?”

he’s shocked when he hears you, hooded eyes looking back at yours. his hand stops moving, but he still has a tight grip on his length. a little breathlessly, he asks, “what? i- i can’t…”

you cock your head to the side, “you just said you’d do anything i ask you to do though?”

“does it have to be now? c-can’t it be next time?”

you shrug, “i’ll do whatever you want next time if you do this for me now.”

he immediately rips his hand away from his cock, placing both hands onto his thigh. you scoot back a bit on your bed, showing off the rest of your body to him. you watch his cock twitch just from the sight of you, his hands itching to make himself feel good.

your fingers circle your clit, head tilting back at the feeling. “sometimes, you just have to slow down a bit. take a real look at what’s in front of you, y’know?” 

you know he’s not really paying attention when he’s slow to nod. you watch as his cock helplessly twitches on his abdomen, begging to be touched by him, to be touched by you. with how wet you are, you can slide in two fingers easily, moaning out his name. he looks so desperate, almost willing to beg for anything. “won’t you tell me how good i look?”

he runs his hands up and down his thighs, his blunt nails digging into his skin. you wanna laugh at how his cock jumps with the slight pain, haechan trying to hide the whimper he lets out. he heaves out, “l-look so good… i know you’d look even better filled up with my cum…”

you pout, “are you saying i don’t look that good right now?”

“no! i’m fighting the urge to not cum untouched just from watching you.”

you moan at the thought, your back arching up as your hips roll into your hand. your eyes focus on him, “you better hurry and touch yourself before i cum all by myself.”

he’s quick to obey, hand wrapping around his cock and setting a quick rhythm. he’s louder than you, whines and whimpers of your name being the only thing leaving his mouth. “think ‘m gonna cum… please, want you to cum with me!”

“y-yes! haechan, i’m cumming!”

your mind goes blank as you come undone, body tightening in on itself as you clench around your fingers. through blurry eyes, you can see haechan with his head thrown back, cum spurting all over his chest as he moans out your name. you think he looks the best like this, the only thing on his mind being you.

it’s quiet for a few minutes after you both come down from your highs. you’re laid down onto your bed while haechan is slumped in his gaming chair. you don’t bother to get up, enjoying the presence of haechan, even through the phone. 

the silence is cut off by haechan, “i really need to get you back for edging me. do you know how mean that is?”

“i personally really liked it. i should’ve taken a screenshot of how desperate you looked. i would’ve made it my wallpaper.”

“if you say it like that, then… i wouldn’t mind. everyone would see how obsessed i am with you.”

you watch as haechan contemplates his next words, and he looks a little too serious for you to be comfortable. you want to ask if something is wrong, but he beats you to it, “did you really mean it when you said that you would send your panties to me?”

you glare at him, “in what world would i want to do that? you are so gross.”

he coos at you, “you like it though.”

“i’d only want you to see them in person. you can keep them and do whatever gross thing you want with them then.”

“are you serious about meeting in person?”

you think about it for a few moments. as much as you’d want to, there are a few things you’re worried about. even though you’ve revealed so much to him, you’re not sure how you feel about inviting him over to your place yet. you let out a small laugh, “you could just look up my address.”

“i wouldn’t do that. not to you.”

his words make you a little shy, despite the meaning behind them. for haechan, these words are tender, keeping a part of his life away from you. he wouldn’t hurt you like that. it brings you relief, and it only makes it harder for you to hide the feelings that begin to grow inside of you.

you both think about what options you have. there’s only so much desire you can hold back before the urge to really meet him takes over. you throw an idea out, “how about we both meet at a selected place?”

“like a hotel?”

your eyes shine at his suggestion, “exactly! i forget how smart you are.”

his tongue pokes the inside of his cheeks, “only for you, baby.”

you threaten to end the call because of the pet name.

(he begs for you to stay on call with him.)

(you say yes.)

you spend the next few weeks planning out a trip where you can both meet.

the both of you figure out a place that’s convenient for the both of you, some kind of middle point where you can choose a hotel. haechan says he can pay for it all, willing to splurge a little more if it’s for you. it’s easy for you to agree, not willing to argue with a man who probably has way more money than he lets on.

there’s a lot of things that you’re nervous about when you start packing for the trip. you hope haechan is as nice as he lets on in person. you could end up not liking him by the end of this trip. what if he doesn’t like you? what if you do something weird and he doesn’t like you anymore?

it dawns upon you that he’s haechan. 

all of the days leading up to this, where you both talk for as long as you can, it’s obvious how much he likes you. he spends a lot of his free time with you, even if he’s doing something else. it’s safe for you to say that you feel the same way. you can only hope that this trip shows the feelings that have been building up.

it’s really nothing that you should be worried about. as the days lead up, you both talk about how excited you are. haechan says as soon as he gets you alone, he’ll be pressing you against the wall, kissing you until you beg him to do something. you say that that will most likely not be happening, but you like his confidence anyways.

the actual traveling day isn’t so bad. you don’t have to wake up too early, and you already prepared everything you need from the night before. you recount everything you need to do before heading out, letting haechan know that you’re already on the way. he’s quick to respond, telling you that he beat you by already leaving his house before you. you thumbs down his text.

after a few hours of traveling, you make it to the hotel. a grimace forms on your face when you see the fancy-looking hotel, wondering just how much haechan paid for the both of you. you arrive a bit earlier than scheduled, but it’s not too crowded in the lobby, so you sit down before texting haechan.

you: i just got here

you: are you close or 

haechan: im nearby so u can just wait for me

haechan: literally gonna shit my pants when i see u

you quietly laugh at his text before reacting to it with a thumbs down. you scroll through your phone for a few minutes as you try to calm your heart down. you’re not really paying attention to the screen, moreso trying to convince other people that you’re not currently trying not to die from nervousness.

it’s ten times worse when he texts you that he made it to the hotel. you shut off your phone, grabbing your bags before standing up. your eyes are focused on the entrance, biting your lip with every moment that passes.

you let out a breath when he walks in, relaxing at the sight of haechan walking in. he looks equally as nervous as you did, eyes nervously flicking across the lobby. it’s when he hears you calling his name that he looks at you, a small smile painting his face. 

any worries that you had from before fade away as you walk towards him, a grin on your face as you drop your bags to hug him. he jumps a little in your hold, his arms hesitating slightly when he hugs you back. it’s weird to be able to feel him after so long, you never would’ve expected this to happen.

“haechan,” you breathe out, “i’m so glad you got here.”

he holds you a little tighter, “me too. i… i can’t believe you’re actually real…”

you laugh at his comment, noticing something different, “i didn’t know you wear glasses?”

“stop, it’s embarrassing…” he mutters shyly, “just wanted to make sure i can see you good.”

you pull away from him, asking if he’s ready to check in now that he’s here. you make it over to the front desk. the person at the desk is subtly trying to text on their phone, quickly turning it off and around once you clear your throat. they smile, “how can i help you?”

you let them know that you’re checking into a room for two people. once you get asked for the payment, haechan fishes around for his card somewhere in his bag. it takes a few moments, the receptionist staring at you two. it’s almost as if they can see how this is your first time meeting each other.

you focus on the polaroid on the back of their phone, a picture of them with a man with a bright smile and dark hair. you break away once they give you the room keys, “let me know if you need anything else.” 

you thank them before grabbing everything, heading to the elevator. no one speaks when you two enter, no one else in the elevator but the both of you. you can see haechan’s fingers twitch at his sides before choosing to wrap an arm around you. a small laugh leaves you, easily leaning into his side, pressing a small kiss to the skin of his neck. you laugh harder when he shakes at the feeling.

he pulls away from you once you make it to your floor. your body is buzzing every second you’re apart from him, wondering why he isn’t all over you like he said he’d be. his hand is shaking when he messes with the key, opening the door and stumbling in.

the room is big, one large bed for the both of you. haechan laughs as you drop your bags to plop yourself into bed. you look back at him expectantly, watching as he cautiously puts his bags down and sits next to you in bed. you place your hand on his thigh to pull yourself up close to his face, your noses almost touching.

you can hear his breath hitch, how his eyes move to look at your lips, a faint blush forming on his cheeks. you cock your head to the side, “don’t you wanna kiss me? like you said you would?”

he licks his lips, “i… will you- will you let me?”

you do it for him. you press your lips against his, leaning into his body. his hand moves to hold your waist, gripping too tightly before he decides to hover his hand over your side. the kisses are slow at first, getting used to each other. his lips are soft against yours, his hand deciding to move up to cup your face instead.

haechan gains a bit more confidence as he moves his lips faster against yours. he’s quick to whine against your mouth, tongue licking against your lips. it’s almost embarrassing how fast you are to give into him, feeding into his desperation. you can feel how his hand feels clammy against your face, your hand moving to intertwine with his.

when you pull away to catch your breath, you laugh at how his glasses have fogged up. he whines in embarrassment, moving to sit himself against the headboard of the bed. he spreads his legs a bit, inviting you to sit on his thighs. you crawl over to him, an innocent smile on your face as he watches your every movement. 

as you place yourself on his thighs, you look down on him, his pretty eyes looking up to yours. your hand places itself on his cheek, tracing along the moles that you always found yourself staring at. he leans into your touch, mumbling more to himself, “i never thought i’d get to have you like this…”

“we have all the time in the world now,” you lean down to give him a peck on his lips, “we can do anything we want.”

his hands are hesitant when they hold you by your waist, bringing your body closer to his. he sits you right on top of his bulge, feeling how he’s already hard from just some kissing. you giggle to yourself, letting your chest press against his as you kiss him again. one of his hands slip under your shirt, hand warming the skin at your side.

his hips begin to shift under yours, his hand trailing higher and higher before it stops at the cup of your bra. he pulls away from you a bit, his hooded eyes and puffy lips letting you know what he wants. you nod at him before kissing him, his hand moving to cup your chest. his other hand joins, both hands now groping at your covered chest. 

he licks into your mouth, hands moving harder against you. you can feel his cock poking against your thigh, smiling into the kiss. your hand slips under the waistband of his sweats and boxers, touching his leaking tip. his whole body has a reaction, head tilting back as he lets out a moan. he tries to swat away your hand, and you try to argue, “i wanna make you feel good, too.”

“b-but i’ll-” a whimper leaves him this time, “i’ll cum if you keep touching me like that-”

you try to hold back your laugh, ultimately failing when you see the embarrassed look on his face. he whines before grabbing both of your wrists, pushing you down flat on your back. he hovers over you, eyes filled with desperation as he openly stares at you. his hands tug at the hem of your shirt, asking for permission to take off your shirt. 

you agree, watching him slide it off of you with your help. he’s met with the sight of your bra, hands shakily moving to take hold of your chest. he touches you how he likes, a dazed look on his face as he gets more greedy. “you don’t know how much i thought about this… just wanted to touch you here so much…”

your hands fumble to undo the clasps at the back, sliding your bra off so haechan can get a better look. he moans unabashedly,  immediately moving to mouth at the valley of your chest. he’s leaving marks as he pleases, making it to your nipple and sucking harshly. his other hand pinches at the other nipple, causing you to let out choked whimpers. 

your legs twitch at his hips, forcing him to stay in between your legs. you can feel how his hips grind down, mindlessly chasing his own pleasure. “you can probably get yourself off just like this, right? i can see you humping the bed.”

“fuck, i can’t help it. you’re so hot,” he mumbles against your skin, “i could make you feel good all day, that’s all i need.”

as if something goes off in his mind, he’s quick to begin trailing kisses down your body. your skin jumps at the feeling, his eyes peering up at yours. he unbuttons your shorts and pulls them down, not caring how rough he’s being. it’s quiet in the room when he sees you in just your underwear, his heavy breaths filling the air. his nose nuzzles against the seat of your panties, a chill running up your spine when you can feel him breathe in deeply.

he slowly pulls your panties down, his eyes zeroed in on your core. he holds the panties in his hands, looking back at you, “you said you’d let me keep these, right?”

you laugh at him, feigning disgust when he asks, “you’re so gross! but i did make a promise, right?”

there’s a giddy look on his face when he pushes them away for later. he focuses on what’s more important, your open legs inviting him to where he’s been fantasizing the most. he settles down between your thighs again, pressing quick kisses to your inner thighs. he feels them try to close in on him, one of his hands moving to keep one leg pried open. 

he takes a breath before looking at your core. he swipes a finger down your slit before sticking in his mouth. a moan follows, “you taste so sweet. fuck, it’s better than i imagined…”

it takes no time for him to press a kiss to your clit, sucking lightly as you let out a low moan. it’s easy for him to bring you closer to his face, spreading your cunt apart with his thumbs as his tongue licks at your entrance. all you can hear is how loud he’s being, the slurps of him against your cunt and the moans he’s letting out get to your head.

his tongue focuses at your entrance, switching between sticking the tip of it in your entrance and licking up at the slick that comes out. his thumb circles your clit, pressing hard against it causing you to twitch in his hold. his hand gives up on trying to keep your leg open, choosing instead to move up and tug at your nipple.

your thighs begin to shake around his head, feeling his fluffy hair tickle your thighs. when his tongue moves to tease your entrance again, you clench around it. he moves slightly away, eyes gazing up at you in wonder, lips and chin glossy with how wet you are. he licks his lips, “are you-”

you cut him off, “fingers- i need your fingers, haechan.”

he’s quick to comply, moving back to his original spot. his mouth replaces his thumb, now choosing to suck on your clit. there’s a finger at your entrance, slowly pushing in. he grunts against you when he feels you clench again, tongue flicking at your clit. your hands shoot to his hair, threading through the strand as your hips rut against his face.

it’s when you feel his glasses bump against your skin that he lets out an irritated noise. you open your eyes fast enough to see him pull away from you, quickly ripping his glasses off his face and moving right back to your pussy. you wail when he doesn’t add another finger, “n-need more, haechan, please.”

he nods against you, not pulling away as he adds another finger. all the air in your chest leaves as he curls them inside you, hitting spots that you could never reach on your own. he chuckles against you, “who knew that you can be this messy just from me eating you out? made you wait so long, didn’t mean to, baby.”

your hands tighten around some strands of his hair, causing him to whimper against you. the bed shakes a little when his hips grind against the bed. he chuckles lightly, “n-need you to cum already or else i’m gonna cum just by grinding against the bed.”

“keep going and i’ll cum soon. right there, haechan, please.”

your hands press his face closer to you, no longer obstructed by his glasses. his tongue teases your clit, giving you just enough stimulation to have you whining. he can tell you’re close just by how you’re clenching around his fingers. when he looks up at you, his heart beats a little faster with how good you look, and it’s all because of him. he moans out,  “god, you’re so perfect, everything about you is so-”

he’s cut off by your moan, your orgasm crashing into you, clenching hard down onto his fingers. he helps you ride through it, fucking his fingers into you until you start pushing his head away from you. he laughs before you take his wet fingers into your mouth, cleaning them up as you stare right at him.

he’s quiet now, no words coming out of him as you move to peel off his sweats. you eye how hard he is in his boxers, hand moving to palm his clothed cock. he whines, just like before, “please don’t. i will seriously cum right now if you keep on touching me.”

you blink at him, “what’s so wrong with that?”

“wanna do it inside your pretty pussy.”

you lean up to press your lips against his again. it’s desperate this time, tongues moving against each other as haechan holds you close to him. it only takes a bit of grinding against his cock before he breaks, standing up to clumsily pull his boxers and shirt off. in the meantime, you situate yourself against the pillows, haechan practically pouncing on top of you. 

he teases his tip along your slit, tapping it lightly against your sensitive nub. you hiss, your hands reaching for his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. he lets out a hushed whimper at the pain, cheeks red when you let out a laugh. you sigh out to him, “i needed this more than you can imagine. somehow i couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

he presses a kiss to your collarbone, and you can feel how he smiles against you, “what do you mean ‘somehow?’ i like to think that you’re just as obsessed with me as i am with you.”

he teases your entrance with his tip, causing you both to moan. you breathe out, “i can’t believe i let some loser hacker get me like this. you should be glad.”

“i’m the best one in this world, y’know? now tell this loser hacker how much you want him.”

you whine out his name, “please don’t tease… i know you want this as bad as i do, i can feel your cock twitching against me. just wanna feel you deep in me. i know you want it, too.”

he bites his lip to hold back a moan, his body betraying him when his hips push against yours. “a-alright, i know, baby. i’ll make sure to make the both of us feel good, okay? you ready?”

you nod, reaching up to give him one last kiss. you watch as he lines himself up at your entrance, his eyes losing focus. he pushes in slowly, your head pushing into the pillows as you moan out his name. he’s thick, your walls trying to adjust to his size as his head falls to your shoulder, his warm breath hitting your skin.

once he bottoms out, he looks down to see where he’s buried deep inside you. he lets out a whimper, his arms weak as he tries to hold himself up. he lets out a shaky breath, “i don’t- i don’t think i’ll last long…”

“i-it’s okay, just go slow. i can wait-”

he pushes his cock deeper inside you, “no i can- i can move just-”

he feels you clench around his cock for the first time, your walls sucking him in deeper. it’s all too much for him, your warm cunt and your needy little face is just too much. he can’t help it when his cock throbs inside of you, cum shooting deep inside your cunt without any warning. he falls on top of you, biting down on your shoulder to try to hide out the loud whimpers he’s letting out.

you’re not too surprised with how long he’s been holding himself out. he was even teasing himself, grinding against the bed when he was eating you out. you soothe him, hands running up and down his back as he lets out soft cries. you’re fine with it ending here, there’s still much more time you have together.

except, haechan pushes himself back up, cheeks red and eyes filled with tears as he fucks his cock into you again. he lets out a hiss, eyes fluttering shut at the overstimulation biting at him. you can feel how messy it all is, some of his cum slipping out of you and helping him fuck you. 

he’s slow at first, trying to will away the pain. you’re louder than him right now, his cock hitting every spot inside you. you can’t help but wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in deeper. you cry out to him, “thank you, haechan. fuck, i feel so full!”

whining at your words, he quickens his pace, the pain bleeding into pleasure. “never thought i’d be able to feel you like this, so i-” a moan leaves him when your nails dig into his back, “i couldn’t help myself, had to cum- need to cum inside you.”

“felt so good, i didn’t care. wanna feel you cum again, wanna cum with you this time!”

“i’ll make sure you do, baby.”

he’s so sensitive right now, tears nearly prickling his eyes as he fucks you. he can’t seem to care though, not when your warm walls are clenching around him. not when you call out his name like he’s the only thing you need. how could he care when you’re the only thing he wants in his life?

“you know, i couldn’t stop thinking about this on the ride here. h-had to stop myself from getting hard in a taxi because of you.”

“y-yeah? needed you just as much, touched myself last night because i wanted you so bad.”

he whines at the thought of you stuffing your fingers in your cunt, moaning out his name just because of him. he can feel you shaking under him, wanting nothing more than to cum. “i’m here for you now, gonna give you everything you need. gonna stuff you full of my cum again.”

your hands bring his head down to kiss you, your hands softly supping his cheeks as you do. your fingers wipe away at the nearly dried tears, bringing him as close to you as possible. when you pull away for air, he moans out, “came so many times to the thought of having you like this. fuck, all i’m gonna be able to think about is you falling apart on my cock.”

you nod, because he’s all you can think about right now. you can’t think anymore, he’s taken up all of your senses. all you can do is moan out his name, letting him fuck you in the way that he’s always wanted. “haechan, ‘m so close, please-” you cry, “need you to make me cum, wanna cum on your cock.”

he can barely put a sentence together, “yeah, fuck, gonna cum on my cock? gonna show me how bad you need me? have your pussy milk me of all my cum?”

his hand reaches down to rub at your clit, urging you to cum. “i can’t hold back anymore, baby,” you can feel him throb inside you, “need you to cum, let me cum with you.”

that’s all it takes for you to let out a whimper of his name, cries falling from your mouth as he fucks you to an orgasm. with how you’re squeezing his cock, it doesn’t take long for him to cum again, a high pitched whimper joining your sounds. he cums inside, fucking his sensitive cock inside you to ride out your orgasm.

he collapses on top of you, hot and sweaty as his breaths mix in with yours. you’ve never heard him this quiet, basking in your warmth as he enjoys the haze he’s in. you don’t bother moving, even as he starts to soften inside you. he nuzzles himself against your chest, pressing small kisses on your skin. his voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks, “thank you for everything. i mean it.”

you let out a faint laugh, “that’s sweet. i didn’t realize you could be this nice. thank you for giving me a chance.”

“i told you i was romantic. you were just too obsessed with me to notice.”

“you’re weird,” you scoff.

“you like it.”

“i do.”

when you both have time, you take turns on choosing places you both want to go to. haechan always offers to pay for any traveling fees, laughing when you suggest he’s practically your sugar daddy. after many months of meeting like this, it’s easy for you to confess to him. it’s even easier for him to wrap you in his arms, a kiss pressed to your cheek as he tells you feels the same way.

now, you’re both due for another trip. there was more of a wait between now and your last trip, finding yourself just as busy as haechan. when you finally have time to yourself, you realize that it’s your turn to choose a place to visit. you find yourself looking at a quieter city to indulge both you and haechan’s homebody trait.

of course, haechan makes it possible for you both to head over. when you had originally brought up the city, haechan showed some hesitance. when you question him, he responds with, “well… i have a friend over there.”

you ask if you can meet his friend, and after some thinking, haechan decides it’s okay for you two to meet. 

when you both walk around the city, exploring the shops they have to offer, you can tell haechan’s mood shifts. his eyes begin to scan around the small crowds of people, making sure no one is looking too hard at the both of you.

when you make a turn to another street, you’re met with a bigger shop, right in the middle of a junction. haechan stops you from going any further, letting you know that this is where his friend works. you eye the store, realizing that it’s a jewelry store. he takes your hand in his before stepping in, opening the door for the both of you.

he calls out to someone named mark, waiting near the entrance as you look around. there’s gold jewelry on display and other antiques all throughout the store. before you can ask haechan what this place really is, a man who looks just as young as haechan steps out, his confused face morphing into one of giddiness.

“it’s been forever, man! and is this- is this who you’ve been talking to me about?”

“shut up!” haechan whines, looking back towards you, “this is mark, someone who i work with.”

while mark is complaining about how they’re more than just coworkers, everything is hitting you all at once. you completely forgot that haechan works with other people, and you fully believed everyone else to be hackers. you wonder what a man in a jewelry store contributes to a group overall. you don’t bother asking now, not trying to ruin the reunion of two friends. 

it’s nice watching haechan talk to someone he’s comfortable with. you see a lot of him that you don’t normally see. you let them talk, joining in when mark tells you something to embarrass haechan. it never works out in mark’s favor, though, haechan immediately spilling mark’s secrets to you.

time passes by quickly in the store, mark telling you stories that have happened to him while taking care of the place. eventually, mark gets a call from the store’s phone, pulling him away from both you and haechan.

when the call ends, he sighs and looks at the both of you, “i have to go pick something up from this guy. will you guys be okay if i leave you here for a bit?”

you both nod, watching mark pick up a few things before getting ready to leave. he turns back suddenly before walking out, eyes narrowing at your boyfriend, “no funny business, haechan. i mean it.”

haechan raises his hands in defense, a sickly sweet smile on his face as he tells mark that there’s nothing he should be worried about. mark shakes his head and tells you both goodbye when he walks out. you both watch him walk away from the store, out of his sight.

it’s quiet for a few moments before haechan speaks, “do you think we can fuck in here?”

“haechan! where would we even do that? there’s cameras in here and the whole front is made of glass!”

you watch his eyes glance over the store before watching them land on the door labeled staff only. when you turn to look at him, he’s smiling at you innocently, as if you don’t already know what he’s thinking. you groan, “if you’re alright with a quickie, then okay.”

he takes no time to drag you inside the small staff room, locking the door behind him as he smirks at you, “let’s hurry before mark comes back.”

with haechan, you come to realize that you’re willing to do anything he wants.

a/n: JESUS i wrote this way too fast and now i have to stay away from google docs for at least a week... but anything for haechan... happy bday to that guy... ALSO THANK U TO @hrts4doie FOR BETA READING HEHE...

tags: @hxxchxn @sourkimchi @hcheach @axo-l0tl @hazyhae @taexoxosgf @hyuckdolle

[jin0]

A Morning Between King Nicholas and His Queen - A Sequel to « Of Love, Lust and Wasted Time »

Summary : what does a morning between Nicholas and his lovely wife look like ? Sex. A lot of it, obviously. porn with like some kind of plot but who are we kidding really.

Pairing : King!Nicholas Alexander Chavez X Queen!Reader

Warning : 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI, smut, p in v, fluff, size kink, slight breeding kink, cockwarming, morning sex, slight cum play, biting, lots of I love you, slightly mean!reader/spoiled!reader (she needs her sleep, nick needs her)

A/N : i have no decorum so I wanted to add this because why not so this is just filth. Also, you can find the ‘first part’ here :)

_______________________________________________

It was morning such as these ones that reminded Nicholas that he had grown to be a rather complicated man in terms of where he could find his happiness. Because no matter what, to wake up in his bed, in the arms of his beloved, skin on skin, warmed by morning rays of sunlight, this was a pleasure he could only find here, in his home, with her.

Duty had required his presence abroad for days now and she had to stay and rule alone in his absence. It had been the first time they were separated since their marriage and both had to suffer without the other. To see her at the door, last night, as soon as he returned, his heart could thump of joy alone.

Wrapping himself around her frame, he felt every muscle of his body relax against her, finally feeling himself ease down from days of political conversations and trades. He laid on top of her, covering her whole while his arms crossed under her. His hands were tight around her waist, pulling her so close they could’ve merged together if possible. He wondered if she was uncomfortable, the look of contentment on her face enough of an answer for him. Her own hands were draped over his back, the pad of her fingers soft against his skin.

This was it, true Love like he had learned existed as soon as he had met her.

With his face nuzzled into her breasts, he inhaled deeply, enjoying being wrapped in her scent all over. Rubbing the tip of his nose along her mound, he kissed that very same spot with a grin. Was it human to be so happy ? Was it human to love so much ? To love a human with such ease and so naturally ? Some days, he looked at her and felt nauseated from not being able to surrender every second of his remaining time alive to her every wish.

Breathing in her heat, his fingers grazed her sides up and down.

Rubbing the sleep off of his face with one hand while his other arm held her close, his lips found themselves kissing and biting the corner of her jaw tenderly while she whined in her sleep from being moved off of her preferred position.

« Nicholas… » She groaned in a voice so sweet it traveled through every pore of his body and infiltrated her bloodstream.

Looking up to meet her narrowed eyes to avoid the sunlight. Oh, how marvelous she was, his girl. The love of his life.

« I love you… » He whispered dreamily. His mind was trained on her face and how delicious she tasted whenever his lips found her body. He kept going, from her neck to her bosom, all he could reach, before dropping his body on her again.

After their first night, Nicholas had been glad to find out that his large stature made for an excellent mattress for his wife. She loved nothing more than to cover herself of him or lay on top of him. By the time she could feel him on her whole being, she was satisfied.

« Settle down, my love…» He muttered as he moved them both again to be on his side but still, half his body covering her in a makeshift cocoon.

The princess squirmed a little to position herself correctly. Her legs wrapped around one of his, her arm draped over his side while the other was kept close to her chest. She kept close to him, whining until he moved his face to lay on hers. Yes, this was perfect.

He could only chuckle, amused by her demands to be comfortable. But he lived to serve and please her, even in her sleep. So much so in fact that when his hard cock grazed the inside of her thighs, pushing against her flesh and taking up space between them both, his grin widened.

Yes, King Nicholas would still enjoy a little more sleep. And like his wife, he would need certain adjustments to be comfortable, starting with her gapping pussy, still dripping of his load from the night before. He could see it between her legs, thick and sticky, what a vision.

He moved her body slightly, nudging between her legs to part them with a smile and a kiss to her lips. He hiked her leg up to his waist, and her reaction was almost instantaneous. In a matter of seconds, there she was, looking up at him with her big beautiful eyes, less than amused.

« Must you have me twice a day ? » She asked, blinking away the sleep which had been taken from her.

« If I have to be honest, twice a day is nearly not… enough » His response was punctuated by movements, attempting not to cum as soon as his tip pushed past her folds. « Remember, an heir is expected of us, sweetness. We must be hard at work on this, it is of the greatest importance. »

They both could’ve laughed. Becoming parents was important, the gender of said heir, less, and the moment they would come even less. But Nicholas couldn’t hide that he enjoyed working to bring said heir as quickly as possible. Less for the baby and more for the pleasure of fucking his lovely wife. And that he did, in various positions and rooms of the castle. It was as if he had found a source and from then on his thirst could only be quenched by the water of that very fountain. She was but Life itself to her lord husband, the only thing he would ever need. Even so early in the morning.

After all, what was decorum if not rules that a king simply could not be bothered with ?

Nicholas rubbed his face close to hers, kissing away the pout on her face with a smile. The domestic bliss he’d been enjoying could simply not be replicated, not without his darling. To have her displeased, in his arms, in their bed, together, was a pleasure that he now couldn’t go without either. Like honey to a bee, he craved the surge of happiness from waking up next to her, hearing her chat away about her day, seeing her live life in all its grace. It was all of this and more that made him desperate for her, so much so that he would tighten his hold on her body and push himself deeper until he was buried deep as can be. And in that moment he was home.

The sigh of relief they both breathed out could lead him to believe that to stay in that position would be enough. Unfortunately and, as always, Nicholas was a selfish man who could never be content with the bare minimum. He needed to have his wife carnally and then enjoy more rest inside her.

As she readjusted on him to return to the sleep slowly evading her, the queen grew needy as can be for her husband to continue what he had started. Her nails started to run along his back, digging into his skin occasionally, when the throbbing of his cock sent electricity through her pliant body. Luckily she did not need to say a word for him to move, or take action.

Covering her body with his more, his lips found every possible area of her face to kiss with tenderness and care while she moaned in pleasure under him. It would be quick, both knew, and he chose to make it as loving as possible. His hips rutted into her with slow yet forceful thrusts, the tip of his cock digging into her guts while she failed to utter a single word. To feel her husband so deep in the morning and to be held so nicely, it was as if he invaded each crevice of her. The soft of her hand now replaced by her nails digging new marks along his wide back, she buried her face in the crook of his neck and big down on his collarbone before kissing the same space her teeth had left their marks in.

« My darling girl… I love you… I love you so much… I could never go without you… » There was generally no reason to such words from him. All were inspired by her presence near him.

She trembled under him, all the way to her toes, curling and her legs shaking from the force of his body pushing into her. With each movements that reached her pleasure point came a small, hiccup like, cry of pleasure from the queen. The sounds of skin slapping, grunts from the king and moans from his beloved merged together, resonating through the room as the only sign of life. And as it was never enough, Nicholas always the greedy man, took his girl in his large hands, holding her by the plush of the hips to flip her over and have her sat down on his throbbing cock.

« Taking me so well, my love… Keep going… » He breathed out into her ear, his lips glued against it as he groaned loudly for each movement.

Suddenly entirely exposed to his eyes and the control he had over her, she abandoned herself in his arms. He planted his feet on the mattress and started bouncing her up and down his fat cock. He was quick to see his tip push into her cervix and lower stomach, a smile drawing on his face before he pulled her close to his chest to kiss away at the tears spilling from her eyes.

« F-Fuck… T- Mmmh, s’good » Her syllables blended together in concert with both their sounds while her hands found support on his shoulders to ground her. It quickly became insufficient thought, the queen wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her nose in his hair.

« I love you… So much. I love you, my pretty girl… Tell me, tell me you love me, my love, tell me you love me too… » His voice was thick with desperation, pleading for her words and her being.

« Yes ! Yes, yes, yes ! S’much, I love you so much, my love, yes ! »

He enjoyed having her in such a state. Barely awakened mind and body trying to process the force of his desire. It was now common for her to lose her thoughts as well as her words, both replaced by tears of pleasure dripping down her soft cheeks. His hands unceremoniously grabbed at the fat of her ass to fully bounce her on top of him, never loosing focus of the tenderness he gave her. Kiss after kiss, his lips never left her. From her lips to her neck, to the spot behind her ear that made her float in his arms, and the corner of her mouth, and her swollen eyelids, every single one of her favorite places he kissed. He even made sure to have his cock kiss her cervix just right to leave no place untouched.

« I…love… you … » A groan of pleasure soon turned into a soft cry erupting out of him. Each word punctuated with a thrust of his. As she tightened around him, he couldn’t take much more himself.

She was the first to finish, as always. The moment his thumb had grazed her clit, she was done for. He watched in awe as her eyes glazed over, her mind visibly blanking before she drowned him in her cum. Of course, he was no better, following only seconds later. The most amount of focus he could muster was put into her again, his eyes trained on her lower shim and how it bulged from his load. He’d never get tired of watching it, the way her body still struggled to take him whole.

These days apart had been difficult and it seemed they both had needed a little more to catch up, not that they would ever be satisfied.

As if nothing had happened, he flipped them both again, this time laying fully on top of her like they both loved and needed. Both bathing in the post coitus glow, breathing heavily and covered in sweat, they stayed quiet for a moment.

King Nicholas’s hands caressed her side, overtaken by admiration as he looked at her. She held his face and looked into his eyes, hers softening. Her thumbs caressed his eyelids, still breathing heavily as she came down from her high. He looked so beautiful, her husband. Her sweet love. She would complain about her sleep but to have him love her so loudly and at every hour of the day. The man she had chosen, to have him disregard the customs to profess his love at ever turn, she could never really be mad at her, not when he spoiled her of his Love.

« You have ruined my sleep, Nicholas… » The tone of her voice was playful, but the smile on her face was the greatest of treasures.

Nicholas dropped on top of her, smiling as she laughed in his ear, carding his hand through his hair and kissing the spot next to her ear.

Both fell asleep for the next few hours, the maids of the castle and any knight with functioning ears and a little bit of experience knowing better than to attempt to bother them.

Life in the kingdom would wait for the rulers to wake up.

[angelkiyo]

͙͘͡★ plug! iwaizumi, who you met at a house party that your mutual friend oikawa threw. your friends got the flier on instagram and decided to bring you in attempts to bring you out of your shell—where you were brought in his sights while getting something to drink. you in your sparkly pink velour halter top and skin tight jean mini skirt drove him crazy, driving the need to talk to you.

͙͘͡★ plug! iwaizumi, who comes up and talks to you once your friend gets caught up in the party, awkwardly starting the conversation by asking what you’re drinking. catching wind on how you want to get fresh air from the heavy presence of weed, alcohol, and sweat, offers to drive you around the neighborhood. he simply does so, turning the windows down, stopping at a grocery store’s parking lot and offers you some weed to which you surely agree to. “the night’s been rough” — in which conversation and sativa rush ends in a rough make-out session before he drops you home and leads both of you wanting more after.

͙͘͡★ plug! iwaizumi, who slowly but surely, became the only guy you really talked to after the party you attended, with every other guy attempting to ask you out scared off by him. maybe it was his rough and intimidating exterior— with his years of self-discipline showcased by his biceps and the tattoos tattooed on his sun-kissed skin, or maybe it’s his demeanor; talking eloquently and clearly adding on to his intimidating appearance. either way, both reasons are some of your favorite things about him (and he knows it and loves that).

͙͘͡★ plug! iwaizumi, who brags about you, his smart and pretty little girlfriend. he loves to show you off at parties, especially when you showcase your necklace with his name on it or your nails with his initials. once you’ve reached a year with him, he definitely has your lipstick mark tatted on his neck. if he isn’t promoting his business on social media, he posts those subtle mirror selfies with you, the flash covering your face as he wraps his arms around your waist, fingers slightly toying with the waistband of your skirt.

͙͘͡★ plug! iwaizumi, who spoils you fucking rotten. you want those “preppy little” van cleef bracelets? he’ll buy it and a matching necklace. you get money to do your nails every week and have his card connected to whatever app you want to buy something from. he loves to spoil you when it comes to shopping — addicted to your smile and the way you look when you do a little fashion show of your newly bought clothes ranging from elegant vera wang slip dresses to bedazzled and lacy lingerie sets bought exclusively for him.

͙͘͡★ plug! iwaizumi, who always makes sure you come first, whether it be priorities or bedroom matters, you are on the top of his list, putting your own pleasures and preferences on number one. he puts his clients on hold just to make sure he gives you what you need.

͙͘͡★ plug! iwaizumi, who eats you out like you’re his last meal but grabs on your thighs gently while doing so. he might have an intimidating and scary presence however, he knows how to treat and pleasure a woman. the way he knows where to hit your pleasure spots in every position he tries with you as long as you’re comfortable.

hehehe hope you all had a nice holiday!!

[paperbodiesamongthestars]

Halfway out the door, but it won't close

Yeah, I'm still mad. The show flatly refuses to address the emotional fallout of the events that take place on it, so I guess I'll do it myself.

Title from Say Don't Go by Taylor Swift, because I love a T Swift lyric as a fic title.

Read the whole thing below, or on AO3.

For the first time in a long time, Buck wants to run. 

The roots he spent so many years putting down washed away more easily than he ever could have imagined, and that hurts. He’s always known Bobby was important—the linchpin of the 118, in addition to being the father Buck always wanted—but Buck was somehow still surprised when things spiraled apart so quickly and so completely without him. 

And Buck gets it. He does. Everyone is retreating into their own corners, taking comfort from their families, and that’s good. He’s glad everyone has that kind of support system. He’s glad they have families to lean on, and to grieve with. 

He just wishes he had someone in his corner too. 

And Maddie’s got him—he knows she does. If he called, she’d be there in a heartbeat, no questions asked. But she’s pregnant. And Chimney almost died. And Bobby did die, making sure Chimney got out. They have a lot going on, and Buck doesn’t want to be selfish. 

Besides, he’s managing. Sure, he wishes he didn’t feel quite so alone all the time, and he wishes that all of the ways he’s trying to help weren’t fundamentally selfish, like they apparently are, but he’s dealing. The hardest part is that he’s been doing his best to be what everyone else needs—to live up to Bobby’s last words—and he’s falling short. He doesn’t—he’s really not sure what else to try, at this point. 

It really doesn’t feel like anyone wants him to keep trying. 

The temptation to pack up his jeep and just choose a direction is intense. He doesn’t, because he promised to take over Eddie’s lease, and Maddie’s baby is coming, and maybe there’s something Athena will need from him at some point, but he looks at the horizon on his way to work and all he sees is freedom.  

He compromises, and requests a transfer. The 118 doesn’t mean what it used to, to him, and maybe at another house he can get up for work without feeling like the grief is going to pull him under. Maybe at another house he’ll stop wanting to take a hard turn onto the freeway, and drive until he loses track of where he is. The 118 is already changing anyway. Eddie will head back to Texas, and the team will get a new captain at some point, and Buck isn’t at all sure that he can see someone else in that seat. Maybe this way he can keep his love of the job, even if it feels like he’s lost just about everything else he cares about. 

And then the building goes down, and the 118 pulls together to help. 

Buck withdraws the transfer paperwork. He doesn’t want to feel disloyal to Bobby’s memory. Going to work every day at that station, like things can ever go back to the way they were before, still makes him feel like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin, but he doesn’t know what else to do. He’s paralyzed; every decision he wants to make feels like the wrong one. 

What he really needs to do is start looking for an apartment. Eddie and Chris are coming back to LA, and of course Buck is going to give him them their house back. He’s happy they’re returning—obviously he is. And the house never really felt like home anyway, aside from—well. It’s never felt like his, is all, aside from one bright, hopeful morning in the kitchen. 

He tries not to think about that too much. The warm light, and the billowing hope in his chest, and Tommy’s familiar scrunchy smile before everything went sideways. It’s too bright to look at for long, so he’s gotten used to locking it away again. 

He should call Tommy, probably, but it feels like it’s been too long. Tommy took a lot of risks to help them, and came to the funeral when Athena asked, to round out Bobby’s first team at the 118, and Buck didn’t even call him after. Never really thanked him. He’s got some texts on his phone—how are you really doing?—that he never responded to, and a couple of voicemails he hasn’t listened to. So yeah, he assumes that window is closed, no matter how much Tommy put on the line for him—for them. 

It’s one more thing that Buck used to have and doesn’t anymore. 

Buck is quiet at work, and the team thinks he doesn’t see the worried glances and the wordless conversations. No one asks him about anything, so he doesn’t share. He spends a lot of time thinking about how he used to picture his life, where he thought he’d end up. 

It should be enough, to have what he has now. He has his sister and the 118. He’s loved, certainly.  He matters to people—he knows he does. But it doesn’t feel like quite enough anymore. He knows everyone lost Bobby, and everyone is dealing with it in their own way, but he doesn’t think he should have to feel like an afterthought, or an inconvenience. He has the vague sense that he shouldn’t have to keep making his grief smaller, but he does it anyway. What else can he do?  

Eddie sets a firm date for his return, and he keeps telling Buck that he doesn’t have to move out, but Buck does. He does have to move out. It’s just—it’s the right thing to do. He thinks it is, anyway, but maybe he’s making it all about him again. He can’t tell anymore. 

Buck goes on calls, and he gradually packs his life back into boxes and labels them, and he goes to look at apartments. He doesn’t find any that he likes. They’re too small, or too dark, or in the wrong neighborhood, or they just don’t feel right. Big shock there—nothing feels right to him. 

Buck knows his realtor is frustrated when he tells her the kitchen in one of the units faces the wrong direction, and he gets it; he’s frustrated with himself. 

Buck goes back to his—to Eddie’s—to the mostly packed house, and he finally admits to himself that he’s not really looking for an apartment. 

He goes to see Gerrard, with a request for vacation this time. 

“It’s a good chunk of time,” Gerrard says slowly, from behind the desk where Bobby should still be sitting. 

“It is,” Buck agrees.

“Sometimes staying busy is better, in these situations,” Gerrard says. Buck can tell he’s trying to be gentle about it, but all he can see is Tommy’s shoulders hunching when Gerrard all but called him a fairy at the medal ceremony. He doesn’t waver. He holds Gerrard’s gaze until the man looks away, clears his throat, and signs the request. 

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Buckley.” He sounds irritated, and Buck feels a little better. He also hopes he knows what he’s doing, but he has a good feeling about it. He’s optimistic, maybe, for the first time in a while. 

Buck shows up to his next shift with a countdown clock in his head, and the rush of relief he feels almost makes him dizzy. He’s got another ten days before his time off starts, but it’s sitting there on the horizon now, an emergency exit, an escape hatch from his life.

He feels steadier now that he can see it up ahead. He’s a little more settled in himself, and he knows everyone sees it. His friends exchange relieved glances when they think he isn’t looking, and some part of him wonders why they can’t just talk to him. He wonders why they couldn’t just sit him down and tell him they were worried, but maybe that’s unfair. Maybe everyone is doing their best, and Bobby’s loss is just insurmountable. It feels that way sometimes, like Buck won’t survive this. It feels like all the bonds tethering him to his life snapped at once, and they’re just dangling now, the severed edges fraying by the day. 

Buck doesn’t say anything about the time off. He works and he smiles at his friends, and no one eats together or makes plans to hang out after work. He tries not to be too hard on himself for giving up—for betraying the last thing Bobby asked him to do. He tried—he really did—but he just can’t anymore. He can’t throw himself into holding everything together when no one seems to want to be held. 

He hopes Bobby would understand, but he can’t be sure.  

The day finally comes. Buck’s stuff is packed into his jeep or his new storage unit. He works his last shift and still doesn’t say anything. He thinks about it, but he’s not sure what he would even say. He figures his friends will have questions when he doesn’t show up for the next shift, but that’s a couple of days from now. Maybe by then, he’ll be far enough away to have found some answers. 

Buck makes it a little over an hour into his drive, heading north, before he has to pull over; he’s crying so hard he’s afraid he’s going to hit something. He takes the next exit, doesn’t see the number through his tears, and parks in the first parking lot he finds. He turns the car off, leans over the steering wheel, and gives in to his sobs. 

He’s not sure how much time has passed when he takes one deep breath, and then another. He feels calm for the first time in a while, emptied—for the moment—of the deep, terrible sorrow that’s been suffocating him for so long. He cleans off his face and then sits up straighter and looks around. He’s parked near a Jack-in-the-Box and he’s suddenly starving, so he goes inside and orders about half the menu. He goes back to his car to eat, windows down, staring unseeing at his surroundings as he thinks. 

Getting even this far out of LA, he feels like his brain has rebooted itself, like he’s stepped out of a fog and can suddenly see clearly again. He considers what he wants to do next. 

He could turn around. He could drive back into the city, and find a place to stay for a couple of weeks while he keeps looking at apartments, and he could use the time off to get settled into a new place. He could rebuild his routine. The thought of it makes a pit of dread open up in his stomach, so that’s a no. 

He could keep going. He could get back on the road, head north the way he planned, drive until he feels like stopping and find a place to stay the night. He could do that for weeks—he’s got six of them before he has to be back at work. It’s what he should do, probably. He could rely on himself, learn how to be alone. Only he feels like he’s already pretty good at that. He’s been alone a lot in his life, and he knows he could do it. But six weeks on his own suddenly feels a lot more like loneliness than freedom. 

Buck tilts his head back against the headrest and closes his eyes. With this unexpected—and almost certainly temporary—feeling of calm and clarity, he’s suddenly confronting some uncomfortable revelations. 

Underneath the grief and the helplessness he’s been feeling for weeks, he’s angry. He’s angry at Eddie for getting in his face, and for implying that he didn’t do everything he could to save Bobby. It felt like shit to hear it, and Eddie was a dick for saying it. He’s angry at the rest of the team, too. For not taking him seriously. For assuming he was as fine as he seemed, even after losing someone who was more of a father to him than his own father ever was. For not even asking where he was moving to when he left Eddie’s house. He loves Chim, but maybe he was wrong; maybe Buck doesn’t owe it to Bobby’s memory to stay in a place where he doesn’t really feel seen anymore.

Buck knows he’s a lot—he can be a lot. But he also knows that he’s grown up in the last few years. He’s loyal, and will do anything for the people he loves. And even before Bobby died, he wasn’t getting that back from his friends. He understands why—they all have lives, and kids, and it’s been a crazy year for everyone. But he consistently made the effort to be there for them, and it doesn’t feel great that no one could find the time to do that for him. 

Well. One person did. One person always showed up for him.  

Maybe Buck doesn’t actually need to get out of LA for six weeks. Maybe he needs some space from his friends and family until he’s got a better handle on his anger with them. But maybe he doesn’t have to spend the next six weeks alone. 

It’s entirely possible that Buck’s silence the past few weeks closed that door for good. But Tommy’s been texting and calling, even though he’s not getting anything back, so maybe it didn’t. There’s only one way to find out. 

It’s early afternoon by the time Buck parks in front of Tommy’s house. He doesn’t know Tommy’s schedule anymore, but he gets lucky—Tommy’s truck is parked in the driveway. Buck’s hands are sweaty all of a sudden, and some of the conviction he felt earlier has drained away. There’s enough left to propel him out of the jeep, though, and up the steps onto Tommy’s porch. 

He rings the doorbell and waits. It’s only a few seconds before Tommy opens the door. His face creases with surprise when he sees Buck, but his eyes are warm. 

“Hi,” Buck says a little awkwardly, and then he barrels on before Tommy can say anything in return. “I want to be friends,” he blurts, without really meaning to. Tommy’s eyebrows shoot up and then furrow as he frowns, and Buck watches his eyes shutter, the way they did in the kitchen that morning. “For now!” he adds hastily. “I’d like to be friends for now.” 

Tommy’s expression does something decidedly judgmental before he gets a handle on it. He’s such a bitch sometimes, and Buck likes him so goddamn much. Loves him, in fact, but he thought about it the whole drive here, and he’s a mess right now; if he says it for the first time today, neither one of them will ever trust it.

“Maybe you should come in,” Tommy says slowly, and his tone is so neutral that Buck winces. It’s fine. He can fix this. Tommy’s willing to at least hear him out. 

He follows Tommy into the kitchen, and sits on one of the barstools at the island while Tommy makes two cups of coffee. He slides one over to Buck and sits at one of the other stools. He’s got his expression under control now, and Buck hates it. Tommy’s so expressive when he’s comfortable that this carefully polite mask feels like a slap. 

Still, Buck feels more relaxed right now than he has in weeks, just because Tommy is sitting across from him, watching him, and yeah, he should probably start explaining. 

“I put in for a transfer,” he says, and there go the eyebrows again. Buck smiles despite himself. “I withdrew the request, later, but then I took some time off. Kind of a lot of time off, actually.” He has a thought, and he looks up. “S-sorry I didn’t get back to you.” 

Tommy shakes his head. “It’s fine, Evan. I figured you were busy with your family.”

“Not, uh. Not so much,” he says, feeling tears pricking at the backs of his eyes. “It’s”—he waves a hand—“everyone has their own families, you know?”

Tommy’s frowning at him now. “You’re their family too,” he says slowly, like it’s an obvious truth, and that does it. The tears come, and so does the whole of the last few weeks, words spilling out and over each other as Buck tries to convey his loneliness, and helplessness, and what Bobby said, and how hard he tried, and how no one seemed to want that, and then Eddie—

He loses the thread a little bit, and he’s not sure what he’s saying. He’s trying to get the important parts out through the tears, but he’s not sure he’s even making sense anymore. And then Tommy’s arms are around him, big and warm and grounding, and he stops talking at all and just cries for a little while. 

When Buck is composed again, Tommy takes a step back. Buck wishes he wouldn’t, but he holds out his hand and Tommy takes it, and that’s something. There are some things Buck still needs to say. 

“It got a little jumbled earlier, so I’m not sure if I mentioned it, but I, uh. I gave Eddie his house back.”

“You said,” Tommy says, and squeezes his hand. 

“I didn’t find a new apartment,” Buck admits. “I was going to go on a road trip, just drive for the next few weeks, stay wherever I felt like staying.”

“That sounds nice,” Tommy says. 

“It did at first,” Buck says. “Then it sounded really lonely.” Tommy makes a soft noise in his throat. “So I—I turned around and came here instead.”

“Because you want to be friends,” Tommy says slowly. 

“Because I want to be friends right now,” Buck corrects. “I absolutely want to try again. I wanted to try again last time, before—but I screwed it up.”

“Pretty sure I screwed it up,” Tommy says. 

Buck shrugs. “Maybe we both did. I want to do it right. But I’m a mess right now, and I don’t want you to think that I’m only here because…because everything else in my life is falling apart. I want to choose to try again when we’re both solid.”

Tommy nods, but his gaze stays on the countertop in front of him. “What if”—he clears his throat—“what if you get your feet under you, and realize this isn’t what you want?”

“I won’t,” Buck says, calm and sure. He tugs on Tommy’s hand to get him to look up. “Tommy, I won’t. I’ve been missing you for months. The only reason I want to wait is because I want both of us to know for sure that we’re building on a solid foundation, okay?”

Tommy stares for a long moment, searching his face, and then he gives one short nod. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, okay.”

Buck can feel the smile stretching over his face. “Yeah?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” Tommy says, and smiles back. 

“I thought you weren’t ready to move in together yet,” Buck says without thinking, when Tommy shows him the spare room. 

Tommy rolls his eyes. “This doesn’t count. This is me helping out a friend, like everyone should do.” His tone is pointed, and Buck tries to ignore the little burst of pleasure he gets from knowing Tommy is mad on his behalf. He can work on being less petty about it later. 

“Yeah?” Buck asks. 

“Evan,” Tommy says, leaning in. His voice is low and intimate. “When I actually ask you to move in with me, you’ll know it.”

“Yeah?” Buck asks again, and it’s a lot breathier this time. 

“Yes,” Tommy says with a smirk, and Buck briefly wonders how committed he has to be to the friends thing. He watches Tommy saunter out the door, heading for the kitchen, and he firmly reminds himself that waiting is the responsible choice, and will absolutely be worth it.  

He’s by himself for the moment, but he doesn’t feel alone at all. He looks around the spare room, at his clothes hanging in the closet, and the soft blue comforter on the bed. Tommy put fresh sheets on it earlier, and they smell faintly of lavender. He sits on the edge of the bed, closes his eyes, and breathes. He feels good here, safe and comfortable and wanted. 

He knows his grief will be back, and the real world will intrude sooner rather than later. He’ll have decisions to make, and explanations to give when the team realizes he’s gone. He and Tommy still have a lot of talking to do. 

For right now, though, he can smell the faint scent of lavender, and Tommy’s body wash underneath that. He can hear the sound of Tommy moving around in the kitchen, and birds chirping at each other outside the window. His hand moves over the comforter, and he feels the echo of Tommy’s palm against his. 

Buck blinks his eyes open and smiles to himself. He’s not okay yet—not by a long shot—but for the first time since Bobby died, he knows that he’s going to be.