#“SOOOO WHERE YOU TWO GO OFF TO LAST NIGHT.” | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lacedcompulsion · 23 days ago

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FLATLANDS

Hotch sends you and Spencer to Iowa to conduct a death row interview with an inmate. Thing is, there's not much to do in Iowa but fuck.

pairing: spencer reid x bau!reader

tags/warnings: 18+, wc: 5.9k, whew, smut, porn w plot, piv sex, unprotected sex, drunk sex, oral sex (both receiving), fingering, soft-dom spencer ish, biting, praise kink, this is so self-indulgent muahahaha, discussions of a case, but nothing too bad it's canon typical stuff, iowa hate idgaf!!, drinking/getting drunk, i think that's it!

notes: this is likeeee. one of my first times writing longer smut. also i did in fact say i would re-upload old re-worked fics before posting anything new but alas! i am a liar! here is something brand new! i spent like. 9 straight hours on this yesterday. and it is currently almost 8 am and i just spent all night finishing it up instead of sleeping. ALSO i am in fact a philosophy major (future barista moment) and my fics get soooo. philosophy-esque. like. every single time. i'm sorry... i am who i am.

If you had to remove one state from the contiguous union, it would be Iowa.

You’re standing in a rusty hotel room, which, according to Hotch, is the best they could do to accommodate you. And Spencer. He’s one room over. Your feet vibrate against the rug. You tell yourself it’s the thought of him, one wall over — thinking, sitting, reading, whatever he’s doing — and not some rare kind of bacteria you’re going to catch from the stink of this place.

Hotch sent you and Reid here for a death row interview. One of the inmates, having spent the past seventeen years as a self-proclaimed monk, decided he was done with silence. He answered the bureau’s request for an interview in a letter addressed to Hotch’s desk, written in red ink. It’s your first prison interview — you usually wear the bad guys down before they’re locked away forever — but Spencer has done one or two, he said. You think it might be more.

You’d never been to Iowa, never had a case here. You’re not great with time off, even worse with real vacations. You don’t look out your window for fear the corn fields have gotten closer since you last peeked through the curtains. You swear you can see twenty miles out; the flatness makes it easy to mistake the horizon for something that never, ever ends.

You’re picking at the skin of your fingernails, toes curled as they still rest but resist against the carpet, when there’s a knock at your door. You don’t check, because you’re not really fearful. It might make you a shitty FBI agent, but you doubt anyone is tracking you down in Iowa. (Iowa. It gets worse each time you think it.)

“Hi,” Spencer says, lips pulled flat. Flat. You think of fields. Corn. Emptiness. Your stomach churns then lurches when you think of your own bed in your own home in a state that has real hills and mountains and trees.

“Hi.”

“Thought you might want to look over the file before tomorrow?” He frames it like a question, and you offer a soft smile at his hesitancy before opening the door to let him in. He turns his body to the left to avoid making contact with you as he accepts the invitation and walks on through.

Your bed is still made, your suitcase resting on top of it. He scrunches his nose before recovering.

“I’m not a germaphobe, like someone we both know,” you mock.

“Maybe you should be.” You laugh. You’ve been his teammate for three years now, and it still gets you when he decides he can lighten up and make a joke.

He looks around, still awkward in the yellow tint of the hotel lamp, then decides to sit in the desk chair in the corner.

“You look so ominous,” you say, shaking your head as you pull the file out of the nightstand.

“Why is your casefile in there?”

“Where do you keep yours?”

“I never put it away.”

“Checks out,” you say, raising your eyebrows and sitting criss-crossed on the edge of your bed, facing him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Gary Foster,” you read off the top of the page, ignoring his bait. “Killed twenty-three women in his basement. His wife never knew.”

“Or claims she didn’t know,” Spencer corrects.

“You think she did?”

He shrugs. “It doesn’t really matter what I think.”

You glance up at him to find him staring intently at the file in his hands. He’s gripping onto it like it’s all he knows. You store your observations away in your head under a tab titled Perhaps Ask Later.

You’ve gone over this file a dozen times. It’s virtually seared into your memory. Still, you let him tack off the rest of the information to you, compile the intensive profile Hotch gave you into a bullet point list.

“He’s gonna focus on me,” you say once he reaches a lull in speech.

“Because you’re a woman?” he confirms. You nod. “Maybe.”

You tap the file a few times with your fingers as a yawn creeps up your throat, threatening to escape. Spencer seems to get the hint before you even let it out.

“We’ve got a long day tomorrow,” he says before standing. He takes a step forward before turning around and tucking the chair back into the desk. You smile at the politeness. “See you tomorrow?”

“Is that a question?” you tease as you lead him to the door. “I promise I won’t jump out of the window.”

“There’s not much out there.”

“No, there isn’t.” He fumbles with the key for the door across the hall. You wait for him to open it before you start to close yours, the way you would after driving a friend at home. “Night.”

“Night,” he says, though the latter half of the word is muffled by the shut of the door.

The room is barren again. You open the curtains now that it’s nearing total darkness outside.

It takes six more hours for you to drift off into sleep.

–

Your hand is immediately on your temple when you awake, rubbing at the budding headache you know will consume you once you get up. This is the punishment you get for allowing yourself only three hours of sleep.

The sunlight hits your bed in fluttering intervals of perfect warmth and scorching heat. This time, when the hindmost rolls around, you force yourself up and place your feet on the ground. You hold your tongue to refrain from releasing a long string of fucks and shits and realize your hand is still refusing to move from its spot rubbing circles in your face. When you make your way to the bathroom, you realize the bed is so hard you’ve left no indent.

The sting of the shower is pelting, boiling enough that it feels purifying. After a night spent in sheets you’re sure dozens have sweat through, it’s more than welcome. The heat is the perfect substrate for the anticipatory dread of today’s interview. Speaking to monsters as if there’s a hint of human behind the stitching has never pulled at you in the right way.

If anything, it’s slowly pulled you apart.

The outlet in your bathroom is broken so you’re forced to dry your hair sitting on the carpet of the room, right next to that window that stares out into nowhere. You feel itchy just sitting on it. You swear the fibers are pressing into your skin, merging with your skin.

The file is open on the floor in front of you, and you use your thumb to wipe the water falling from your damp hair. The pages already begin to curdle like the feeling in your stomach.

You put your hair in a ponytail, then worry it’s too sexual — because you’ve absorbed the profile and you know what earns a check on this guys list —- so you take it down and let it rest on your shoulders again. Your knees crack when you stand up and your hip tenses up like it might, too, when you slip your legs into your pants.

There’s a knock on your door and you mutter fuck as you balance your time between finishing the rest of the buttons on your blouse and stumbling to the door.

“I need a couple minutes,” you say, before you say hello. You leave the door open as you retreat farther into the room. “You can wait in here.”

You squeeze your feet into your heels — half a size too small, and in your head you call the saleslady who insisted on that being necessary for this brand a word that would make your grandmother sour — and peripherally watch him step into the room, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“You ready?” he asks. You can feel his eyes on your unmade bed.

“Mhm.” You glance in the square mirror facing the bed and smooth out your clothes.

“I mean for the interview,” he says after clearing his throat.

“My answer remains.”

“Cool.” He says it in the way that feels fraudulent, but is really just the way he speaks, you’ve come to realize.

“Are you ready?” you ask back, muffled by the file placed between your teeth as you fumble around your desk for your car keys and room card. You make eye contact with him as you head for the door.

“Don’t really have much of a choice, do I?”

“Stand up straight,” you say, holding the door open for him as you both step into the hallway.

“What?” he mutters. He does it anyway.

“He’s gonna zero in on you if you seem to lack confidence.”

“Right.”

It’s silence between you two in the hallway, the elevator, the lobby, and until you’re pulling out of the parking lot. There’s overgrown wheatgrass in the field to your left and plowed corn crop to your right. The furrows stretch on until the curve of the earth swallows them up.

The sky is dull, slate-colored, and bears striking resemblance to something that could wipe you clean. Grain silos whir by every couple of minutes. These people really own a lot of fucking land. Every few miles, a new one, along with a rusting tractor or collapsing barn or crop that looks about ready to dry up and blow away. It gets predictable after mile seven.

The prison doesn’t appear so much as it settles into your vision. It’s low to the ground, sprawling, gray. A scar pressed into the ground.

You feel like Spencer the way you’ve completely memorized the profile. You flash your badge at the gate, sign some kind of form and drive into a parking lot that feels as far from the prison as your hotel was.

Spencer lingers in the car two seconds after you get out. He’s nervous, and he’s trying not to show it. You don’t want to mention it, but you need to be on the same page, so you don’t stop your lips from unfurling.

“You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“The anxious math,” you say. “You’re calculating the probability of saying the wrong thing before we even walk in.”

“That’s-” He seems to think better than arguing and redirects his sentence. “That’s not entirely inaccurate.”

You give him one of those closed lip smiles. “He’ll spot it in five seconds. He feeds on nerves like that. First, he’ll comment on your hands, because you fidget when you’re trying not to.”

“You sound like Hotch.”

You scoff out a half-laugh and choose to ignore the comment otherwise. “And he’ll ask how long you’ve known me. If we’re sleeping together. He won’t say it like that, of course. He’ll be crude. He wants to gauge what version of you shows up when you’re off-balance.”

“Why would that knock me off balance?” he asks. The hesitancy has stolen his tone again.

“You fluster easily.”

“Do I?”

“Mhm. You blink three times, touch your collar, and then deflect with statistics. You did it the first time I challenged you during a case.”

He tuts then holds the door of the prison open for you. “You’re profiling me.”

“Of course I am,” you say, then turn your head over your shoulder, waiting for him to walk back up beside you again. He’s close behind you, so close you can almost feel his breath on you. It makes you feel warm. “So will he.”

You greet two more guards inside before shaking hands with the warden. He thanks you for coming with that grim look on his face that everyone in this field seems to have permanently etched into the creases of their skin. The prison is colder inside than it has any right to be, as if the concrete has learned to hold onto every winter it’s ever survived.

“Still nervous?” you whisper to Spencer.

He smiles, shakes his head no.

Good, you mouth.

You pretend not to notice his eyes fixate for a beat longer than necessary on your lips. You lick them in response. When he meets your eyes again, you pretend not to notice that something undecipherable is hidden behind his lids, too.

—

Foster smiles when you walk in. He doesn’t look at Spencer. You let Spencer pull your chair out for you, which immediately catches the guy’s attention. You think of still water, use it as a guide for being calm.

“Well,” Foster says. He hasn’t dropped the smile from his face. “They sent a good-looking one.”

“We, the FBI, are really grateful you chose to cooperate with us,” you say. “You know, in your final days.”

“Hm.” He turns to Spencer, finally. “She yours?”

You don’t look at him, and you will him to ignore him, to start asking him the standard questions. What’s your name? What year were you born?

“She’s her own,” he says instead. It comes out even and flat.

“You hesitated,” Foster says. His smile shows his teeth, now. “I suppose that’s not a crime.”

“No,” you agree. You open your file and lay a picture of his mugshot on the table. You can tell he was expecting photos of one of the women whose life he stole away. “But murder is.”

Spencer clears his throat and nudges your ankle with the tip of his shoe. You give him no reaction, but the next time you reach for the file, you let your fingertips brush against his wrist.

—

“That wasn’t awful,” Spencer says when you step out, though he says it like he’s releasing one big breath born out of a collection of accumulated air trapped in his lungs.

Foster did say something crude. You’d prefer not to repeat it, mostly because you’re not sure if Spencer was blushing or if he was just hot.

The prison was freezing, you remind yourself. Then you shove the thought back down.

“It wasn’t great,” you say. “I wish I’d pushed him further about—”

“Stop,” he says. His hand is on your bicep now. “Don’t overthink it, you did great.”

“Okay,” you say. “Don’t profile me, now.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The walk back to the car leaves you sticky and hot. You note, aimlessly, that Iowa gets hot enough if you let it — if you stay long enough to let it swelter.

“Our flight’s not till the morning,” you groan, slamming the car door shut.

“Not a fan of Iowa?”

“In how many languages do you know how to say fuck no?”

“Twelve," he says. His eyes flit to the ceiling. “No, fourteen.”

“Ridiculous.”

—

You crash as soon as you get back to your hotel room. You sleep for what feels like two hours but you know is way longer than that, and when you finally peel your eyes open you’re sweating. You’re clinging to your sheets, and you consider yourself bed-ridden as you roll over and check your phone. Hotch has sent you three messages asking for updates. Your stomach twinges with guilt for not answering, though you figure he probably moved on and texted Spencer.

Spencer.

You feel bad. You had ditched him, retreating to your hotel room the second you guys got back. You wonder what he did, if he got food, though there’s not much to do in Iowa. In fact, there’s nothing to do in Iowa.

You slip out of your clothes and take a quick rinse-off in the shower. Your hair is still wet when you adorn yourself in a gray t-shirt and sleep shorts and creep over across the hall. Your fist raps against the door three times, then twice more for good measure.

“Hi?”

“Hi,” you say, inviting yourself in as you push past him. It’s identical to yours, but everything’s on the opposite side. “Nice room.”

“Much nicer than yours.”

“Oh, for sure.” You clap your hands together, then flop down on the bed. “So, whatcha been up to?”

He nods his head at a book on the nightstand. You stretch over and pick it up. The History of Iowa’s Small Towns.

“Little on the nose, isn’t it, doctor?”

“It’s interesting.”

“Your mind amazes me,” you whisper, then place it back on the nightstand.

“Have you eaten?” he asks.

“I’m not really hungry,” you say. When he quirks his eyebrow, you add: “Really, I can’t eat for, like, at least two hours after I wake up.”

“You were asleep?”

You nod. “Couldn’t last night. You didn’t think I just ditched you, did you?”

He shrugs. “I wouldn’t have minded.”

You place a hand over your heart. “Well, doctor, I’m just plain offended.”

He smiles, real, genuine. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“How’d you mean it?” you ask. You move up on the bed, as if it’s your own, making space for him to sit next to you.

He sighs, like he really doesn’t want to indulge in this conversation, but his lips pry open and you know he will. “Morgan always says I ramble too much.”

You shrug. “What’s much, anyway?”

“Well, if you’re not hungry,” he starts, lifting himself off the bed and over to the mini fridge, “are you thirsty?”

“My, my.” You smile, teeth and all. “I didn’t know you drank on the job.”

“Not technically on the job anymore, am I?” He holds up a little bottle. “It’s not exactly a martini, but it’s all I’ve got unless you want lukewarm ginger ale.”

You accept the bottle with mock ceremony and open it the second it’s in your hands. “Guess federal per diems only cover motel whiskey. Honestly, this is probably the classiest thing happening in Iowa tonight.”

He laughs softly, twisting open his own cap. “From what I’ve read, and seen, that’s a low bar.”

You raise yours. “To meeting the bar.”

He tilts his head, scrunches his nose. “To stepping over the bar with minimal effort.”

You both take a sip. It’s terrible. You make a face.

He sees it and raises an eyebrow. “Too refined for hotel whiskey?”

“Just surprised it didn’t come with a warning label,” you say, setting the bottle down on the nightstand. “Or a tetanus shot.”

“Don’t worry,” he says, taking another sip of his. “I’m sure the Iowa Department of Health is on it.”

You nod solemnly. “They’re probably just as fast as the Wi-Fi.”

That gets a small smile from him. He sits on the edge of the bed, a little closer than before, but still careful. He’s always so careful.

There’s a lull, full of quiet until the nighttime air-conditioning kicks on and you’re too tired to pretend anything really matters for a while.

“You ever drink from the mini bar before? Like, during a case?” you ask eventually.

“Only when I expect to be stranded somewhere like this.”

“Smart,” you say.

He glances at you, amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Can’t profile your way out of a cornfield without it.”

You hum in agreement. “I’m not sure if that’s depressing.”

He shrugs, taking another sip. “Probably.” His hand falls to his side, dangerously close to your thigh.

You accept another one. And then another one. You’re sure he’s going shot for shot with you, but you can’t really tell because your head is full and everything’s hazy and suddenly this bed is so, so comfortable.

You lie back, legs still dangling off the edge, and stare up at the popcorn ceiling like it might reveal state secrets. “Did you know Iowa had one of the highest populations of covered bridges?”

Spencer blinks. “Iowa doesn’t.”

You squint. “It doesn’t?”

“No,” he says, amused. “That’s Madison County. Which is in Iowa. But it’s a specific — actually, nevermind. I’m not sure either of us are in a state for nuance.”

You wag a lazy finger at the ceiling. “I knew that.”

“Sure,” he says, and leans back beside you with a soft thud, hands crossed over his stomach. “Next you’ll tell me Iowa invented jazz.”

“It didn’t?” You cant your head to the side, a smile playing at your lips.

“God, no.”

You sigh dramatically. “And here I thought this trip was educational.”

He turns his head just slightly toward you. His breath is hot, hotter than it was earlier, and his words are all slurred. You think you might sound the same but don’t keep yourself in line long enough to actually check. “You’ve learned a lot. For example, you’ve learned not to trust the minibar.”

“And that your idea of a good time is reading municipal histories.”

“I sensed you were captivated.”

You pull an arm over your face. “Do you always get this cocky after drinking?”

He tilts his head like he’s genuinely thinking about it. “I think I just feel safe knowing I’m not the only one embarrassing myself.”

You haul a leg up to bend into the bed with you and nudge him with your knee. “You’re not embarrassing. You’re weird. Like, in the good way.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, but you can hear the smile in his voice when he finally says: “Thanks. You’re weird too.”

“Weird and drunk.” You repeat the word drunk a few more times, drawing out a different syllable each time. “Spencer?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t let me fall asleep here.”

“You say that like I have any control over you,” he murmurs. Your breath catches. Neither of you move.

You peek at him from under your arm. “Are you flirting with me?”

“What?”

“Whatever. Then don’t speak with that— that tone. Or I’ll start to think you’re flirting with me.”

“I’m not really flirting with you.”

You let the arm drop, but not to the mattress; it finds its way to the sleeve of his shirt, playing with the fabric. “Not really or not yet?”

“That depends,” he says, voice dropped low to a whisper. “Would yet be a problem?”

You roll onto your elbow, looming over him. “Guess we’ll have to find out.”

It lands like a match.

“What are you doing?” he asks. Your lips are the closest they’ve ever been.

“I don’t know.” Your eyes move to where his hand has started to creep onto your thigh. “What are you doing?”

He moves first, but only barely. His head tilts up, lips parting like he’s about to ask a question.

He gets his answer in the shape of your lips.

Your hand finds the edge of his jaw, fingers skimming up the side of his face. He’s warm. Still flushed from the whiskey or maybe just from you.

You’re kissing, you think. You. Spencer. Kissing. It should make you pull back. You work with him. This is strictly forbidden — that should definitely make you pull back.

But then his fingers press into your hips, grounding you, and you shift, and you’re straddling him before you’ve thought it through. It’s automatic, desperate, like the tension finally cracked open and all that’s left is the pull.

“Still not on the job?” you murmur between kisses, breath brushing his lips.

He shakes his head. “Not even a little.”

He starts to kiss you deeper, like he wants to memorize it. You wonder if he is. Your hands move up under his shirt, and his breath slips, just for a second. Just long enough to make you smile into his mouth.

There’s nothing quiet about any of this. Just heat. And want. And finally.

You roll your hips once as a test. When he tightens his grip on you, you have half the mind to do it again, and again, and again.

Suddenly, all you can think of are your clothes on the ground and him inside you.

“Fuck,” he mutters. You release his lips from yours.

“Fuck?”

“Shh,” he hushes, trying to silence you, but you’re already laughing.

“Oh my god, Dr. Spencer Reid, esteemed supervisory special agent, holder of three PhDs, just said fuck.” You whisper the last part, hand clutching at your chest.

“Will you please resume what we were just doing?”

“My fucking pleasure.”

“Jesus,” he squeezes out. Your hands remove themselves from where they were resting under his shirt and head to the waist of his pants. You watch his chest rise a little quicker, fall with a little more readiness. His hands release your hips and come up to grip your wrists. “I say fuck one time and I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Maybe we can put it in another context.” You unhook your legs from their desired place around his hips and scooch yourself down his body. Your fingers, which were just barely, ever so delicately toying with his waistband, curl into both the cotton of his pants and his boxers and tug down at once. He helps you, hips coming off the bed just enough for you to drop them both to his ankles.

He’s already hard, and your mouth is already hollow, already anticipating something to fill a long-lasting void. You say his name, but it sounds off, because your mouth is already imagining itself wrapped around something far less innocent than words.

His hand comes up to your face, brushing your cheekbone, and the feeling is too soft to name but impossible to ignore. You feel as though all the heat in the room has gotten sucked between your legs, and it pools low, desire biting at the edges of restraint.

“You don’t have to,” he says, watching you spit in your hand. You roll your eyes before wrapping the newly wet hand around him.

“I’m going to. Just stay like that.”

You stroke him softly, just a few times before spitting on the tip and working it back down. He whispers your name like its wax, made to melt. You’re not thinking and your voice is velvet when you ask him how long it’s been since he’s been touched like this, the way he deserves to be. Too long, comes his response, and you vow to yourself to show him what he’s been missing.

The next time you bring your lips up to release more spit, you reach down and kiss it. Just the tip, and just ever-so-slightly. You’re not sure he noticed at first, so you do it again, this time more pronounced, and then he’s removing his hand from your face and bringing it up to your hair. His grip is firm enough to anchor, not enough to command.

When you open your lips more, he tightens his grip. When you make your way down, syrup-slick and mouth dripping of sin, he coils his want at the nape of your neck and pulls. You moan around him, which earns you another tug.

“That feels good,” he whispers. “So fucking good.”

You’re drunk enough that the praise feels more than trembling and temporary. You take it for more than it probably is and pick up your pace.

He lasts not a minute longer before he’s guiding you off of him, and you couch as you come up for air.

“I don’t want to finish yet,” he mumbles.

“No?”

“No.” He pulls you up off the ground, one hand on your wrist and the other still in your hair. “Wanna take care of you too. Do you want that? Yeah? Lie down for me.”

You do as you're told, nodding along the way, agreeing fervently and with little free will. You’re drooling, enough that it slips past your lips. He brings his index finger up to your face, collecting it on the pad of his finger and pushing it back into your mouth. Instinctively, you suck. He groans, low, a noise you never would have expected to hear from him, and it makes you shut your legs, thighs rubbing together slightly as you try to fight the feeling festering around your limbs.

He kneels before you, the same way you had with him. “Is this what you want?” You nod. “No, use your words.” He pries your legs open, blows between them.

Your back is coming up off the bed, enough for him to bring a hand up and grab your waist again. “Yes.”

He wastes little time attaching his mouth to you, tongue everywhere, while his fingers leave bruises in your side. One of your hands is gripping the sheets so hard you can feel your fingernails digging into your palm even through it. This can’t be real, you think, because nothing real feels this good. And this feels so, so good.

You feel fucked out and he hasn’t even put anything inside of you. It’s just his tongue swiping against you, swirling around your clit, sucking your clit, kissing your clit. You can’t think. At some time you stop being aware of what he’s doing and just let him do it.

His hand leaves your hip and you feel it pulse, throbbing at the loss of harsh connection. Then, he forces your fist to open, to release the white fabric, and he locks your fingers together. It feels intimate, more intimate than his mouth on you, and if you were sober you might have shrugged him away. But you’re not. You’re drunk. Very drunk. So instead you hold his hand harder.

His free hand is trailing along your thigh, and when you glance down at him his eyes are closed, and he looks content, satisfied, and you’re not sure you ever want to unfold from this position. He uses his other hand to trail up and down your thigh before his errant fingers find their way farther up your legs.

When he slips two inside you, both at once, no warning, you mewl.

He detaches his mouth from you, like he wants to focus solely on finger fucking you. When you glance down at him again, he gives you a perfunctory smile before focusing back at the task he’s chosen to take up. He’s practically gift-wrapping your orgasm.

“Right there,” you choke out when his fingers curl at the exact right moment in the exact right spot. You don’t announce that you’re coming, but Spencer is a genius. You’re sure he can figure it out. Everything comes undone in waves, the way seafoam spits back into the sand before dissipating, carrying itself back out into a vaster part of the water.

“Good job,” he says. He kisses you. You can taste your slick on his lips.

“Spencer.”

“You’ve said that already.” You’d laugh if you weren’t so unraveled. “I’m gonna fuck you now, okay?”

“Mhm.”

“What did we say about using our words?”

“To… use them?”

“You’re so smart,” he says, and you can hear him breathing in the way that means he’s trying not to laugh as he presses scattered kisses across your cheek, jaw, lips. “Can you speak up and show me how smart you are?”

“I want you to fuck me.”

“Knew you had it in you.” One of his hands is pressed into the mattress next to your head, and the other is absent from your body. When you finally open your eyes, you look down to see him lining himself up with you.

There’s a pinch in your throat as you feel him ease himself inside, slowly, deliberately, like he’s scared you might crumble and break beneath him. You won’t, which you assure him by using one hand to grab onto his bicep and the other to rest on his hip, guiding him all the way inside of you.

"I got so mad, earlier," he says. "When he was talking about you like that."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," he whispers. "Don't fucking apologize."

The heat is back, swirling in your stomach, rushing up your chest like every vein you have has replaced blood with feverish fire. Spencer throws more gasoline on it when he slides almost all the way out, then pushes himself back in. You’re quiet, and even the air around you seems to have hushed itself.

When he finds a rhythm, he takes advantage of it. Fucks you a little harder, just enough that you can’t close your mouth, can’t quiet yourself even when you try. You’re trying to tread carefully, but you don’t have it in you to not tip your chin up and search for a kiss. You move your other hand to wrap around his forearm, the one right next to your head, and you can’t stop yourself from digging your nails into the skin when he gives you one particularly hard thrust.

“Do that again,” you whisper.

“This?” he asks, though it’s more of a mock. He does it again, this time a little slower. You feel like crying, because you have no other outlet for what exactly it is you’re currently feeling. When he does it again you have no choice but to squeeze your eyes shut. He kisses you again, idly, like you’ve got all the time in the world. You’re not sure you have more than five minutes in you before you pass out. “You feel so good.”

“Needed you.”

“Yeah?” he says. Your words seem to have made him snap his hips against yours a little harder.

He uses one of his hands to grab under your thigh, then pushes your leg up. You let out a broken moan you don’t even register as your own until he stretches you farther apart and you do it again. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t clawing at an indescribable edge. You feel ripe. Nothing holy is coming for you. You arch your back like it might.

"Mine." He says it while looking down at you. He says it with his chest. He says it like it's an absolute.

You bring your hand to the back of his neck and make him kiss you. Once for the thrill, twice just to feel the burn of it really settle in.

Then you come. And everything else does, too. It’s unraveling. Not fingers but friction, not skin but static, not breath but flood. The room is slipping sideways, hips first, mouth second. you forget your name or maybe you give it away. There's no shape to anything, to the sting between your legs, only pulse — wet, reckless, existing in the hollows of your thighs. When he bends down and lets out a sound that sounds suspiciously like your name, your teeth catch on his shoulder like a warning. He doesn’t flinch. You bite down harder.

Nothing makes sense for a while except the sound of the air-conditioner.

Spencer says something. Then again. Then, he taps your cheek twice, says your name until you come to.

“Hm?”

“You okay?”

“‘m okay. Are you okay?”

He laughs. It’s quiet and hoarse and still warm. “Yes ma’am.”

“Hmmmm.”

“Hmm what?’

“I like that. We’ll use that ‘nother time.” You let out a heavy sigh as he chuckles. He slips out of you and you suck in a breath that catches in the pockets of your teeth, cold and shocking against the roof of your mouth.

“Sorry.” You shake your head and hope it conveys that he has nothing to apologize for. He rolls over next to you. “You should pee.”

“Pee schmee.”

“I think I’m gonna retract my previous statements about your high level of intelligence now.” You smack him with your hand and laugh, hearty and probably too loud.

“I’m still drunk,” you say after a few more moments of silence.

“I think that’s how that whole drinking thing works, yeah.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No.” His answer comes quicker than you were expecting.

“Okay. Me neither. Just checking.” You blow hair out of your face, and when that doesn’t work you bring a palm up and use the strength of four fingers to wipe it away from the sweat gathering in satin sheets across your skin. “I hate this room.”

“Me too.”

“I don’t hate you,” you whisper.

“Well,” he whispers back. “I don’t hate you either.”

“Do you wanna maybe… I don’t know. Not be on the job tomorrow morning?”

It might just be the alcohol, but his expression is soft and lush, like when dawn’s light shudders through early morning fog.

“I would like that.”

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babybluebex · 30 days ago

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drink the honey | erik campbell x fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: in visiting your friends' bar, you happen to meet his older brother, aka the guy who pierced your ears forever ago. cue a lesson in grief and exactly what can be pierced and where, as well as a night you won't soon be forgetting. wc 9.7k (i am. so sorry.) title stolen from closer by nine inch nails. 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: erik campbell (final destination: bloodlines, 2025) x fem!reader 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: semi-canon compliance (howard has gone to his great reward, the shop fire happened, but none of the death hitlist stuff), drinking, one single mention of jerry fuckin fenbury, mild descriptions of burn injuries/scars, lots of innuendos, smut (minors dni)(holy shit there's a lot here, bear with me yall): p in v, creampie city baby (but then mention of intention to use morning-after pill), oral (f!receiving), genital piercings (like... we all watched the same movie, we know what's going down), lots of teasing, hittin it from the back + spanking (i know yall saw what he did to that garbage truck), biting/hickies, one tiny quick slap to a cheek, panty thief erik, look-in-the-mirror type shenanigans, light choking, halfway decent aftercare considering the circumstances, nicknames such as: sweetheart, baby, babygirl, princess/prince 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: soooo like after a year-long writing hiatus, i am back. it's been. a lot. and as far as this fic goes, i cannot explain myself, i knew i needed erik carnally even before the garbage truck thing so like. idk, dick piercing goes brrrr. anyway. follow @babybluebex-writes to be notified whenever i post a new fic!

You had only seen him once before. He had been the guy at the sketchy tattoo shop downtown that had done your second lobe piercings, and he was totally fine. It hardly hurt, probably because he was able to distract you long enough for the needle to pierce your skin by getting you talking about your own job, and he was pretty good about reminding you how to clean the piercings and everything. You didn’t exactly remember his name— something with an E, or an A? It was a little while ago, and you had been a walk-in— but you acutely remember his big, blue eyes and the stink of cigarettes that lingered on the leather jacket he wore while piercing you. That, actually, was the same jacket he was wearing right now, sitting directly across the bar from you.

He was by himself, bottle of Hice in hand, seemingly off in his own world as he gazed at the bartop. Every so often, every time the cute blond bartender passed by him, he would lift his head and give him a curt nod or a flick of his eyebrows, but he didn’t talk to anyone else or look in any one direction other than down. You were totally intrigued by him, even though he was not your usual type— as your friend beside you had joked as you walked into the bar earlier that night, maybe your “boyfriend” would be working, AKA Bobby, the cute blond bartender. Bobby was an absolute sweetheart, greeting you with a grin and asking how your night was every single time you came in, but he was a sweetie with everyone that walked into the bar, so, even though it wasn’t necessarily special treatment, it made you like him a whole lot.

Speaking of your friend… You looked one way and the other, trying to catch sight of her, and you frowned mildly as you tugged your phone from your purse. Just as you suspected, she had texted you about ten minutes before, telling you that she had absconded to go smoke, which was code for “I’m going on an adventure and it’ll be your job in two hours to track me down and get me back home”. You sighed, clicking off your phone screen, and sucked down the last of your liquor from your plastic cup.

“Lookin’ pretty glum there, friend,” a voice said, and you gazed up to see Bobby. There was a relative lull in the crowd, although the rap music playing over the speakers still shook the walls, and Bobby’s kind smile softened you. “What’s got you down?”

“Ah, shit,” you chuckled. “Not sad or anything. Just tired.”

“Tired?” Bobby repeated. “You want a vodka Redbull?”

You shook your head. “Just a long day at work,” you informed him. “Didn’t really even wanna come out, but Anna convinced me, and then immediately…” You trailed off, gesturing around you and the obvious lack of Anna. Even though you had never seen Bobby outside the bar, you had been going for years and knew him well, and Bobby had a good memory of the regulars, so he nodded, familiar with Anna’s disappearing act. “Probably one more of these, then close up my tab.”

“You got it,” Bobby said. “Single or double?”

You twisted your mouth as you thought about it. Obviously, you wanted a double, but a single would probably be better for you and your poor wallet. Bobby tilted his head towards you with a smile, almost as if to say C’mon, you know you wanna, and you sighed. “Just a single,” you told him.

“Heard,” Bobby nodded. As he made your drink, you watched him walk to the opposite end of the bar and sharply say something to the brooding piercer, and he looked up from the bartop again to say something equally sharp back at him. A weary smile passed over his face, and he pulled at the glass bottle of beer.

“Hey, so,” you started as Bobby handed you your cup. “Who’s that at the end you keep talking to?”

Bobby scoffed. “Who’s asking?” he started, popping a small black cocktail straw in your drink.

“He pierced my seconds for me a few months ago,” you explained. “Was thinking about getting my nose done, and wanted to go back to him, but I couldn’t remember his name.” A total lie; you liked your nose the way it was, with the appropriate number of holes. You just wanted to know more about him; he had a pull, like a magnet, and you needed more.

“You let that motherfucker stick needles in you?” Bobby chuckled. “And you want more? Ill-advised.”

“Okay, well, who is he?” you asked, a flash of fear running cold down your body.

“Erik,” Bobby said, and your brain flashed with recognition. Erik; that’s right. Something with an E.

“And it’s bad that Erik pierced my ears because…?” you asked. “Did he, like, get his license taken away or something?”

“No, no,” Bobby sighed. “Ah, I shouldn’t talk shit about him. He’s my older brother, though, I can’t help it. Genetically predisposed to give him hell… Maybe not genetically, but y’know, half-genetically, or whatever…”

Oh. Throughout the years, you could recall Bobby making passing mentions of his siblings— his older sister graduating college last year, his older brother flunking out of college prior to you ever meeting Bobby, his sister being “back in town”, his brother “traveling for work”, yada yada yada. “This the same brother that flunked outta college?” you asked, and Bobby laughed loudly.

“Yes!” he wheezed. “Yep, that’s him! Fuck, how do you remember that?”

“Because I’m a nice person, Bobby!” you smiled. “I remember things that people tell me!”

“Shit, that’s funny,” Bobby said. “Yeah, one and the same. Went for one semester, decided he didn’t like it, grades went downhill, dropped out before they could boot him out… Probably for the best, honestly, he never really was into the whole ‘establishment’ thing. Think he only ever went there to get our mom off his back.”

“Dad didn’t care?” you started, and a twinge flashed over Bobby’s face.

“Well,” he started. “Not necessarily, but y’know… But Dad passed away about a year ago. It sorta sucked for all of us, obviously, and that’s when Ma got intense about… Well, everything. But he had been out of college for… Shit, more than ten years, and when Dad died, Erik just… I don’t know, he had a break or something. You find out, in the wake of your dad’s death, that your dad isn’t actually your dad and that your mom’s friend is actually your dad, and that fucks with you, so I get it, but he got super withdrawn from all of us after that. I mean, shit, this is the first time I’ve seen him in months.”

“Wow,” you sighed. “That’s… Um…”

“Sorry,” Bobby said, clearing his throat. “Airing out my half-brother’s dirty laundry, I shouldn’t have… I just worry about him, y’know? He’s my big bro. He used to be so… He lit up whatever room he walked into. He’d come over to grill for family barbecues and to play video games and just to, like, hang out, but ever since that fiasco last year, he’s just… Tattoo shop, his apartment, over and over. Getting him to even stop by tonight was like pulling teeth. Truly, I think he needs a girlfriend. Boyfriend. Cat. Whatever. Something to get him out of his head.”

The man across the bar certainly did not fit the shining description that Bobby gave of the old Erik. By now, he had his phone in his hand, lighting up his face, and the light glinted off a large silver ring hanging from his nose. You remembered the same jewelry from when you met him, and you absentmindedly tugged on your earlobe. “Well, shit,” you said finally. “First of all, sorry for all of that. My dad isn’t really in my life, so I can’t sympathize exactly, but… Y’know. Still sucks. I’m sorry about that. And additionally… Jesus Christ, Bobby, you need to learn to keep your mouth shut!”

Bobby smiled. “You wanted to close your tab, right?” he asked, and you nodded. “Sure thing.”

You handed Bobby your card, and your gaze drifted to Erik one more. Still on his phone, but now with furrowed eyebrows, concentrating on something. The POS system was right next to where Erik sat, and you watched Bobby say something to his brother as he ran your card. You couldn’t read lips, so you were at a loss as to the conversation, but you watched Erik roll his eyes and swig at his beer, saying something in response to Bobby. Bobby froze up for a single second, then said something that you could obviously tell was “Really?”, and Erik nodded. Bobby seemed like he was malfunctioning, still for a moment, then turning back to the computer, then back to Erik once more, repeating “Really?”

Erik was obviously annoyed, cocking his head towards his little brother, and he went into the pocket of his leather jacket, extracting his wallet and passing his card to Bobby. Bobby pushed your own card into his empty hand and poked at the computer for a moment, and he ran Erik’s card through the computer. In a second, the POS churned out a receipt, and Bobby shoved it towards his brother as he turned back towards you and came your way. “Um,” Bobby started, a red flush hitting his cheeks. “So, Erik picked up your tab for you.”

“Huh?” you asked as Bobby slid you your card back. “Why?”

“Couldn’t tell you,” Bobby shrugged. “Maybe he thinks you’re my friend or something… Well, I mean, you are, kinda, we’re friendly…”

“Or maybe,” you started. “He’s getting a move-on with that ‘girlfriend’ thing you mentioned.”

“I don’t know about that,” Bobby mumbled.

“Or, and consider this,” you began, sliding your card back into your purse and grabbing your drink as you edged yourself off the barstool. “I’m a pretty girl who just gets drinks bought for her from time to time.”

“I mean, obviously,” Bobby said with a smile. “It’s just never my brother doing the buying.”

Erik looked up from his phone as you approached him, and your heart slammed up against your ribcage with anxiety. His hair, all shaggy and a little too long, hung in his eyes, and a careful smile touched at his mouth. “Saw you talking to Bobby,” he said. He shifted slightly, opening his body towards you and not solely at the bar, and you saw Bobby give a sort-of pained smile, almost a “What the fuck?!” type of face. “Figured you were one of his little girlfriends or something.”

“No, not me,” you said. “I’m just a regular, nothing more.”

“Ah, well,” Erik shrugged. “Bobby can use as many friends as he can get.” He cast a look at his brother, who swiftly threw up a double bird, and Erik rolled his eyes. “So, does my baby brother’s regular friend have a name?”

“Yes,” you said, and a smile came across his face when you told him your name. He repeated it back to you, gentle and sweet, like he was committing it to memory. You liked the way he said your name, and the closer proximity allowed you to see his pink mouth, the skin of his lips a little dry and bitten.

“That’s pretty,” he told you. “I’m Erik, if Bobby didn’t already tell you.”

“I already knew,” you told him. A flash of confusion wiped across his face, and you put a hand up to your ear, almost as if you were showing them off. “You did my seconds a little while ago.”

“Oh!” Erik laughed. “Well, shit, I did, didn’t I? I remember you now; I knew I’d seen your pretty face before.”

“God,” you chuckled. “Are you always such a flirt?”

“Not always,” Erik said. “Only when it can make my baby brother uncomfortable.” He gestured towards Bobby with the end of his beer bottle, and Bobby gave him another “What the fuck?” type look before rolling his eyes and going to serve other people at the bar, away from you and Erik.

“Well, you’re certainly brothers, based on attitude alone,” you said, and watched as Erik hooked the toe of his boot in the barstool opposite him and tugged it out, giving you a place to sit.

“What, the blindingly good looks didn’t give it away first?” Erik asked.

“You two look nothing alike,” you told him. After a momentary beat, you added, “I like your look better than his.”

“Oh yeah?” Erik asked. “You into the brooding, mysterious types?”

You shrugged. “I could be,” you said. “I think it’s the whole, like, ‘tortured artist’ thing you’ve got going on.”

“So, that answer is yes, the brooding and mysterious type,” Erik nodded. “Tortured artists are, in my experience, inherently brooding and mysterious. Can’t claim the title if you aren’t.”

“Damn, today I learned,” you replied, and Erik gave a little laugh. You examined his face as he looked to the side, towards Bobby, to flag him down for another beer; soft skin, a little pale with a rosy flush, rough facial hair that showed a little ginger in the blue neon signage behind the bar, with thick, dark eyelashes around his almond eyes, piercing blue. A silver ring inside his nose, to match the ones in his ears; it looked like a thicker metal than you thought piercings typically were. “So, here, you can teach me something else. How did you get your nose ring in?”

“Like, how you pierce a septum?” Erik asked.

“No, like, that’s way… I don’t know…” you started, already regretting the question, knowing your next choice of words. “Way bigger and thicker than my earrings. How?” Your face burned hot at having to look him in the eyes and say the phrase “big and thick” to him, but he either didn’t catch the unintentional innuendo or actively chose not to acknowledge it.

“Oh, I see,” Erik nodded. “Yeah, so, it’s a little complicated, a lot of terminology and shit, but the short of it is that you gotta stretch it out. Like, it wasn’t this big when I first did it, I’ve had to size up the hole over the years so I could get bigger and thicker things in there.”

You bit your bottom lip to hold in your laughter, and Erik scoffed. “Okay, that was too much eye contact on my part for saying all of that, that’s my bad,” he said and shook his head. “I could have said that way differently.”

“I-It’s fine,” you told him. He exchanged the empty bottle for another one from his brother, and Bobby passed him the bent-up bottle cap, which he put into an inside pocket of his jacket. “I mean, I started it.”

“That you did,” Erik said. “But, yeah, it’s a whole thing, sizing up, it takes a while.”

“Neat,” you said. “I don’t know too much about, like, tattoos or piercings or whatever, that’s not really my style.”

“Well, I’m an open book,” Erik shrugged. “You got questions, I’ve got answers. And I won’t even charge ya for it.” He gave you a playful wink, and the heat returned to your face.

“Cool,” you nodded. “Do you have any tattoos?”

“Oh, yeah,” Erik nodded quickly. “Got more ink than skin at this point, I’m pretty sure.” With that, he shrugged off his jacket, leaving him in just the black t-shirt for some band that you didn’t know, with that weird scratchy font that metal bands usually used. You could hardly focus on the t-shirt, though; all along his now-exposed arms, he had different pieces of artwork, all varying sizes, some colorful and some not, none of them remotely similar. You felt your eyes widen as Erik held out his arms to you, and you examined the spiderwebs, serpents, and roses that he had embedded in his skin forever. “You can touch ‘em, if you want,” he offered, then winced. “I promise I’m not trying to say everything as obscenely as possible.”

“It’s fine,” you smiled. Gently, as if you were worried you’d hurt him, you brushed your fingers along the large spiderweb that encompassed the majority of his lower right arm. “I mean, it’s just skin. Skin is skin, ink or not.”

“I know,” Erik said. “But that’s a sorta cheat code with people like me— let the cute girl touch your tattoos and she might give you her number. A high success rate, you’d be surprised.”

You gently turned his arm over to get a look at the softer, paler skin on the inside of his arm, and you sighed. In large script, the word DAD was inked in, along with a pale scar in the shape of a heart towards the end. “Oh,” Erik started. “So, the heart was, um, sorta an accident. Not sorta, it was an accident, but, like, I don’t know, it’s a long story. The night after my father died, I was closing up shop by myself, and some freak fire got started. Through a series of unfortunate events, I ended up on the floor, but a jewelry case had busted in the fire and I didn’t realize it, and my arm—” He made an exaggerated splat noise that made you giggle despite the horror of the story. “Landed straight on top of it. Worst pain I’ve ever been in that I didn’t enjoy.”

“Wow,” you mumbled. “I’m glad you’re alright… I remember last year, hearing from some friends that there was a fire there, but… And I’m sorry ‘bout your dad.” You only added the last part to try to banish the thoughts that his last remark had ignited, but he did nothing to mitigate it.

“Yeah, it’s coming up on a full year,” Erik said. “And I was thinking about it recently, and I’m tired of… I don’t know. When he died, I felt like I lost a part of myself. I mean, he’s my dad, y’know, I kinda did lose a part of myself. But one day a few weeks ago, I looked down at the tat and the burn scar, and saw that everything had healed up as nice as possible, like nothing bad happened at all, and I figured that it was Pops, taking care of me one last time. I realized I was tired of being a sad little recluse, especially if he was going to make sure I was okay.”

There’s the explanation that Bobby was looking for on why Erik changed. And, it seemed, like the old Erik was starting to rise from the grave. “That’s a nice thought,” you told him. You let go of his arm and cleared your throat, going after a sip of your drink, and you added, “Do you have any more?”

“Thoughts?” Erik joked, and you smiled.

“No, tattoos,” you told him. “I’m assuming it’s not just your arms.”

“Oh,” Erik said, shaking his head. “Nah, got ‘em all over. You can sorta see this one…” He hooked a finger in the collar of his shirt and tugged slightly, showing off the corner of what looked vaguely like a bird’s wing— “And my stomach piece, and the bullshit on my sides… And more.”

You could tell he was fishing for you to ask what “more” meant, and you gave him a soft smile. You could read his energy as easily as a book, and the words that his soul and body gave to you were telling you some things that you’d rather hear his voice say and his lips move around. “More?” you repeated. His hands weren’t all full of ink, and you carefully let your finger trace the lines of his palm as you lowered your voice as quiet as you could. “My, my, Erik. That almost sounds like an invitation.”

The hand of his that you weren’t tracing touched your knee, moving slowly to give you time to retreat if you wanted to. “An invitation to do what, exactly?” he asked, and you slotted your bottom lip between your teeth. “Oh, don’t you go getting shy on me now, baby. You’re almost there. All you gotta do is ask.”

A shiver ran down your back at the sweet little name he bestowed upon you, and you battled it with venom. “What if I don’t wanna ask?” you countered. “What if I’m content just looking at the tattoos on your arms, and have no interest whatsoever at seeing what’s under— and inside— your pants?”

Erik laughed the way that only incredibly hot guys could get away with, his lip between his teeth as his laughter rumbled low in his chest. “Who said anything about getting in my pants?” he asked. Moving slowly, once again giving you time to move if you so wanted, he got up from the stool he was sat on, instead leaning up on the bar on his elbow. He was taller standing than sitting, and having to look just so slightly upward made your mouth run dry. He wasn’t a big guy, but definitely not some twig, but the energy radiating from his chest made you feel so tiny in comparison. You didn’t hate it, though. Now, as close as you were, you could smell the mentholated smoke on him, and it made you dizzy. What the fuck was wrong with you? You had never been so unashamedly turned on by someone before.

“I did,” you said boldly.

“Now, that’s mixed signals,” Erik chuckled. “You don’t wanna see the tattoos or piercings I’ve got under my jeans, and yet you wanna get inside ‘em?”

You paused, replaying what he said in your head as your eyes widened, and quietly replied, “Piercings?”

He smiled slow, biting the edge of his lip, looking like the cat who ate the canary. “It’s like I told you, babygirl,” he said. “All you gotta do is ask.”

He took a half-step closer to you, his hand landing on your waist, and he angled his head down so that his mouth was right next to your ear. To an innocent passerby, it could have looked like he was just talking to you so he wouldn’t have to shout over the music, but the words that spilled from his lips were anything but innocent: “If you knew how fucking hard I was right now, you wouldn’t be wasting any more time out here. You’d take me into the bathroom and lock the door, and you’d open your legs and let me stretch your pussy open and do whatever I want to you. Right?” You nodded quickly, your own hand reaching out and hooking a finger in his belt loop to draw him closer. His tongue slowly wet his bottom lip as he took in your reaction, and he added, “And I bet you’d just love to be split open on my cock, wouldn’t you? Take me in your mouth, in your sopping wet little cunt. I bet you’re such a slut that you’d let me… Nah, you wouldn’t let me, you would beg me… To cum inside you, breed that filthy little cunt of yours until you’re absolutely full of me.”

You nodded quickly and grunted out a meek “Mhm.”

“You ever had a pierced cock before, baby?” Erik asked softly, almost turning sweet for a moment. But you knew it wasn’t sweetness; it was condescension, he was making fun of how mild-mannered you had turned. It only made the fire under your dress burn hotter. If he could have bent you over that bar that very second, you would have let him. But then his words sank into your skin— Sank maybe isn’t the right word. It hit you like a truck, slammed under your skin like all the ink on his body, needled in with a satisfied pain. Did he say pierced?

“N-No,” you stammered. “I didn’t even know you could… That anyone would wanna…”

“Oh, yeah,” he nodded. “You wanna know a secret?” You looked at him with widened eyes, nodding, and his big blues softened at your doe-in-headlights look. “Only just got it last year. You’ll be the first to know what it feels like.”

“Oh my God,” you gasped. “I’m flattered.”

“How ‘bout you go check out that bathroom?” he asked, and you nodded again. Your head was spinning at the notion, and Erik’s eyebrows creased for a moment. “If you don’t, that’s alright. Let me know if I’m coming on too strong, I can back off or fuck off completely, if you want.”

“I like my men strong,” you told him, and you did. Forthright, assertive, commandeering; he was ticking all your boxes. “I was just thinking about it.”

“About what?” Erik asked. “I need words, sweetheart. I can’t do what you don’t tell me about. I’ll do anything for you. Just ask.”

You cast your gaze to the side, to your forgotten drink and his beer, and you whispered, “How many of those have you had?”

“That’s only my second one,” Erik told you. “I’m not drunk. Not even a little bit. And you?”

“Just the one,” you said. “And this has been collecting melted ice since I came over. But you know that, you paid for them.”

“Fuck, am I glad I did,” Erik smiled. “I wasn’t sure how else to get your attention. You were having such a good conversation with Bobby, I was almost worried the wrong Campbell brother might get a hold of you.”

“Easy, tiger,” you told him. “You don’t have a hold of me yet.”

Erik nodded slowly, the hand on your waist carefully sliding upwards to flatten against the small of your back, his pinkie edging oh-so-slightly under the waistband of your skirt. “M’getting there,” he told you. “I like to take my time, y’know?”

“Slow and steady?” you asked.

“Something like that,” Erik replied. Then, gently, a shift to a much softer side, he nestled his lips into your neck, just below your ear, and he gave it a gentle kiss. “Go to the bathroom, get all nice and ready for me while I finish up here. Can you do that, sweetheart?”

You nodded. “Don’t keep me waiting too long,” you told him, squeezing his arm.

In turn, his hand abandoned your leg and snatched your wrist. His grip wasn’t painfully tight, just enough to let you know that he meant business, and he said, “If I walk in there and catch you touching yourself, you’re gonna be in huge trouble. Okay? None of that shit, I’m the only one who makes you cum tonight.” Your eyes stuck on his mouth as he talked, the way his pink lips pulled and puckered as he talked, and that dizzy, hypnotized feeling came back. You wanted to kiss him, taste his mouth and tongue and feel his pretty lips against yours, but you were nearly certain that a quick fuck in the bathroom of a bar wasn’t exactly a “kiss” sort of situation.

Luckily, Erik read your mind. His own eyes flicked down to look at your mouth, and he sighed softly. “Lemme…” he whispered, and he surged into you, pressing his lips to yours for just long enough for you to get a head full of his scent. If he had stayed put for one second more, you would have kissed him back (again, if he decided to spread you open on that bar right then and there, you would have let him without question, so a simple kiss felt relatively lowkey), and, as he pulled away, you felt like it was a painful parting. “Just wanted a little taste,” he told you, swiping his thumb along the corner of his bottom lip. “God, if your pussy tastes half as good as your mouth, I might have to really pick my battles ‘bout what I want to do to you.”

As you departed towards the restroom, Erik sent a quick swat to your ass, and you bit your lip as you smiled at him. The restroom was towards the back, down a corridor about halfway until the room with the sign on the door, and you slowly opened it, expecting the resistance of someone in there shouting, but nothing came. A single-room situation, the counter for the sink painted shitty black with stickers for local bands and Sharpie graffiti littering the walls, and, thankfully, a functioning lock. You set your purse on the hook on the door, tugging out your phone to make sure Anna hadn’t texted you back, and you frowned at a new message from her. r u ok?? She had asked, sent less than 20 minutes ago. u haven’t come and found me and begged to go home yet!! :P

You quickly pecked out a message that was light on details, a simple got to talking to a friend, i’ll be done soon, and you turned towards the mirror, swiping at your lips with your finger to tidy up your lipstick. Erik didn’t seem all too concerned with the state of your makeup, but you still wanted it to look nice, and your concentration on cleaning up lipstick made you jump in shock when the doorknob to the bathroom started to jostle. You took a deep, steadying breath— you had never hooked up with a stranger in the bathroom before, and your chest felt full of nervous energy— and flipped the lock back on the door, then turned back to the mirror, trying to act unaffected and nonchalant.

Erik was quiet as a ghost as he entered, deliberately shutting the door behind him and locking it once more, and he came to stand behind you, looking in the cracked and dirty mirror as well. You could trace his eyeline, though, and he was only looking at you as he moved his arms to brace against the counter, trapping you against his chest. He seemed almost contemplative as he tilted his head, shifting his eyeline to your neck and the sliver of shoulder coming out of the collar, and he pressed his mouth to your bit of shoulder. He left soft, slow kisses on your skin, traveling up to your neck, then pressing another kiss below your ear. “Did you do what I asked?” he whispered in your ear. “Got yourself ready for me?”

“Not yet,” you admitted. “Was sorta hopin’ you’d do it for me.”

Quick as a flash, one of his hands was up off the counter, slithering around down your front to go up your skirt. His thick bicep pressed up against your body, pulling you closer into him, and you hummed with satisfaction as his big hand roughly cupped your pussy. He hadn’t done anything yet, hardly even touched you, really, but you were already wet, dampening your panties. “Fuck,” he groaned, pressing his cheek into your neck. “I can feel you, sweetheart, you’re soaked. Surely that can’t all be for me.”

“Who else would it be for?” you asked, and a wicked smile crossed his face.

Erik moved with confidence, like he had done it a thousand times, his fingers stroking the wetness of your panties with rough pressure, almost like he was threatening to penetrate you through the thin fabric. You realized he seemed to be mapping you out, memorizing the way you felt, and his fingers moved upwards just a bit to grind against your throbbing clit. A choked moan involuntarily left your lips, and he carefully nibbled at your soft neck. You had a feeling that he would have sank his teeth in if you would let him, and you hated to admit that you would have. Something about him made you feel dangerous for even knowing his name, and your blood felt like fire in your veins.

“You want ‘em?” Erik asked.

You panted, pressing your ass back into him like some pathetic bitch in heat, and your heart skipped a beat at the feeling of him right against your ass, stiff inside his pants. You felt like you could have drooled as Erik laughed, rumbling low in his chest, and your voice came out as a high-pitched whine: “Want your cock, Erik, please!”

“Oh, yeah?” he asked. “No prep, nothing? You like it when it hurts, huh? Fuck, what a woman…” He bit his bottom lip as he smiled and shook his head, seemingly impressed with you, and, as fast as lightning, his hand cracked against your ass, palm open, echoing around the tin bathroom. The sting and flame of pain made the headrush increase tenfold, and the burn of tears pricked at your eyes. You loved it, though. The dudes you fucked before were pretty easy and vanilla, and even though this wasn’t exactly the kinkiest hook-up to ever take place, even just spanking you was the most wild thing a guy had ever done. Something told you, though, that spanking and hitting it from the back (also something new for you) were part and parcel of Erik’s routine.

His hand bunched up in the fabric of your panties, pulling it tight for just a moment, before inching it down your legs. He greedily took in the sight through the mirror as you dug your fingernails into your palms, and his free hand moved to grasp your chin, making you look in the mirror with him. “You see that?” he whispered, capturing the soft flesh of your ear in his teeth. You nodded quickly, whimpering, and the quietest growl purred at his throat. “What do you see? Tell me.”

“I-I see…” you started, and you shuffled a bit to get your panties off completely. Erik balled them up in his fist and slipped them into the front pocket of his jeans, and your whole body pulsed and throbbed. “Am I gettin’ those back?”

“Debatable,” Erik said swiftly, and he let go of your jaw to land a not-exactly gentle hit on your cheek before grabbing your face once more. “Eyes on the prize, sweetheart, tell me what you’re lookin’ at.”

“You,” you choked out.

“Oh yeah?” he mused. “What am I doing?”

The skin-to-skin contact of his rough fingers with your clit made you think you would cum from that alone. His middle fingers circled your bud, putting the perfect amount of pressure to have your legs shake, and you keened high in your throat, squirming to press your back fully against his front. You could feel his heartbeat against your shoulder blade, dampened through your clothes but still quick, fast— he was excited, nervous, on-the-edge-of-his-seat, like you, and then you remembered the secret he had told you. He had never had sex with his piercing before. He was probably as wigged out of his mind about it as you were. “Touchin’ me,” you gasped. “Touching my clit, making me feel so good.”

“Good girl,” he whispered. His hand on your jaw slunk down, repositioning to grip your throat, and you watched his face tense as he faltered. “If I do something you don’t like, please tell me. Don’t be quiet just ‘cause I like it, okay? I wanna get my rocks off, sure, but, at the end of the day, I’m only satisfied if you are. So, if I’m too rough or say something weird or you wanna do something else, just say the word and I’ll do it.”

“You’re okay,” you assured him. “I’ve, umm… Never done anything like this before.”

His hands jumped away from your body like your skin had burned him. “Like what?” he asked. “‘Like this’, what is ‘this’?”

The ceasing of his rubbings on your clit made you sigh, and the shaking in your legs got worse. “The-the slapping,” you started, but a genuine laugh bubbled from your chest. “Looking in the mirror, choking, all of that, it’s new for me.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I-I just assumed, that’s totally on me.”

“I never told you to stop,” you offered lightly, raising your eyes to look at him in the mirror. “I never said I didn’t like it. I mean, if you hadn’t stopped rubbing my clit, I probably would’ve cum.”

Those big blue eyes of his blinked once with surprise, and he said, “Fuck. You were that close?” With your nod, Erik laughed. “Damn. Shame on me, sweetheart.”

“I do think that I want you to fuck me from the front,” you told him, easily turning to face him. “I mean, I can’t very well watch your cock sink into me if you’re fucking me from the back, can I?”

“Where have you been all my life?” Erik asked, all breathy like he couldn’t believe what you were saying to him, and you smiled. Your minds seemed to think the same thing at the same time, because his hands went under your ass to help you as you perched on the edge of the counter, opening your legs for him to see all the slick and wet he had left you with. His chest heaved as he drank in the sight of your pussy, his hands skimming up your thighs, and you reached out to grab at his belt buckle, undoing it with much more deft fingers than you were used to having. He let you get as far as pulling down his zipper before he dug his blunt nails into your soft skin, making that growling purr again.

“I just need a taste of you,” he told you, and before your brain could catch up with what he meant, he was getting down on his knees and he was getting to work, licking a broad, fat stripe up your glistening cunt. The wet warmth of his tongue made a broken moan rip from your mouth, and your head tilted back as he landed a messy kiss on your hole, throbbing and clenching around nothing. “Just like I thought, sweetheart: sweet as candy. I oughta start calling you sugar, huh?”

He shifted, standing back to his full height, and the fire in your veins grew hotter at the sight of his mouth, shining in the light with your wet. You reached out for him and drew him into a messy kiss, and you let out your first true, full-chested moan of the night as you let yourself sink fully into him, into his smell and taste and energy, and Erik’s hips bucked forward. “Fuck,” he hissed, and drew in a tight breath. “I knew it was sensitive, they told me it would be, but fuck me, that’s intense.”

“What is?” you asked, chasing him back into another kiss.

“My stupid dick,” Erik chuckled against your mouth. “Rubbing against my pants, it’s, like, holy shit. You’d think I’d never had my dick touched before, the way it feels.”

You resumed the job that you had abandoned before as you kissed him, and his hands joined you to help tug down his jeans just enough to shove down the band of his boxers, his belt buckle jingling as it moved. He had a nice dick, decently long and deliciously thick— now you understood what his whole “stretching you out” thing was about, because oh my God— but you couldn’t focus on the whole thing for too long. Extending from his beautiful rosy tip was the silver metal ball, indicative of the end of a piercing, and your stomach pitched. That was going inside of you, and you had never thought something could be so arousing. Quickly, before he could push your hand away, you wrapped your fingers around his length, pulling on his bottom lip with your teeth as you stroked his cock.

His cock jumped in your hand as he groaned, his eyebrows furrowing with the pleasure of it. “Fuck,” he gasped. “Holy shit, sweetheart, I think you’re gonna kill me if you make me wait any longer.”

“We wouldn't want that,” you told him. You shuffled a bit, opening your legs wider for him, and his strong hands angled your legs to wrap around his waist. He was quick, obviously rather skilled with it, as he grasped his cock and guided it to your hole, pressing just the smallest bit in before he raised his eyes up to meet yours. A shiver ran down your back at the eye contact, and he seemed to notice the effect he had on you, because he put a hand on your face, keeping you from moving.

“If it hurts,” he started. “Don’t tell me. Just scream for me.”

Your breaths timed in tandem as he bullied his way inside you, going slowly to savor your tight resistance, and you gasped. His dick felt so good inside you, that funny little electrical charge working overtime with every bit he gave you, but the hard ball of the piercing in you nearly made tears fall. Not because it hurt— it didn’t; it was noticeable, of course, but you couldn’t pinpoint exactly why it felt so damn good, it just did. His cock was stiff and hard and hot, heated steel under warm velvet, and you cried out a wrecked little noise as he bottomed out, his thick balls nestled against your ass.

Thankfully, you somehow managed to keep your head on straight and look at his face, and you saw a man possessed. His cheeks pink, his spit-slick rosebud mouth open, eyes squeezed shut and eyebrows pitched, messy hair falling over his forehead. God, the man was in heaven inside you, and his moan came as he opened his eyes. “Fuck,” he laughed. “Look at that— fits like a glove. A really tight, really… Really warm, super wet… Glove— Fuck.” He abandoned the joke almost immediately, instead moving to pull his hips back, his eyes greedily taking in the sight of himself. You watched as well, seeing his softest skin all slick and shiny with your wetness, and he pulled himself out fully, watching as your hole throbbed in his absence.

“God,” you whined, a pit opening in your stomach. “Erik, baby, put it back in, please.”

“I like the way you say my name,” he told you. “You say it like… I don’t know. Like you love the way it tastes.”

“I do,” you told him. Your chest heaved as you waited for him to take pity on you, and he quickly shoved your shirt up your chest, exposing your tits and the pushup bra you had worn, and he gave a wolfish grin.

“Good,” he said. “I’m so glad. Now, sweetheart, you said you wanted my cock back inside you?”

“Yes!” you yelped. He leaned down and kissed the swell of your tits as you writhed, and you added, “Please, Erik, please, put your cock inside me again, I feel so empty without you in my pussy.”

“Such a filthy fuckin’ mouth,” Erik smiled, and he shook his head. “Nah, Bobby wouldn’t have been able to handle you, you would’ve knocked him out, you’re too much for him.”

“Y’know,” you started. “I came here tonight to see Bobby. My friend always jokes that he’s my boyfriend.”

Erik’s eyebrows furrowed, this time in confusion. “Have you fucked him?” he asked with narrowed eyes.

“No,” you told him quickly. “Just— I don’t know. Had a little crush on him, that’s all. It’s those blue eyes, makes it hard to keep a girl away. Same as you, actually.”

“Past tense ‘had’ a crush on baby brother,” Erik repeated. “Not present tense?”

“Not as of… About half an hour ago,” you told him. “Found another somebody to focus on.”

“Someone caught your attention over Bobby?” Erik laughed. “Whoever that guy is, he is one lucky bastard. I bet you’d let him lick your pussy, wouldn’t you?” He rolled his eyes at his own joke, and you giggled softly.

“I’d even let him fuck me in this gross-ass bar bathroom,” you said. “If only he would shut his stupid mouth and put his dick back inside me.”

Erik made a big show of closing his mouth, looking a little like a gaping fish, and you held back a snort of laughter. This time, you watched him, slapping your pussy with the head of his cock a few times, hearing the wet sound echo around the bathroom, and his dick twitched as he ran his thumb across his sensitive head, smearing his pearly pre-cum around. “Jesus,” he gasped. “Gotta quit doing that, s’gonna make me bust before I’ve even really fucked you.”

You watched as he situated his pierced head back at your entrance, and you felt like all the breath in your chest got knocked out in one punch as he pushed inside, a little quicker and rougher than before. He didn’t waste time to start up a rhythm, wrinkling his nose as he gripped your hips and fucked you, and your arms circled around his neck, hiding in his shoulder and attempting to muffle your noises. It wasn’t quiet exactly in the bathroom, the music from the bar proper still very clearly audible, the walls still sorta rattling with the heavy bass, and you weren’t worried that anyone out there would hear you, but you were also hesitant to risk it. “D-Does anyone know?” you stammered.

“Know what?” Erik asked. His belt rattled again as he snapped his hips forward into you, and you let out a wrecked moan into the dip of his neck.

“That we’re in here together,” you said. “Th-That you’re fucking me within an inch of my life.”

“I don’t think so,” Erik said. “Told Bobby I was heading back here, then was gonna split, but I don’t know if he saw you come back, so who knows what he knows. Why, are you worried your little boyfriend is gonna get jealous?”

“No,” you told him with a shaky voice. He was so close to that spot inside you with every drag of his cock, and you could almost taste the incoming pop of electricity that would snap on your tongue when he did.

“You want people to know I’m fucking you back here?” Erik asked. “Let the whole damn bar know that a pretty thing like you would let someone like me violate you? Damn, girl, you might be kinkier than me.”

“Not likely,” you countered. “I mean, who here has the pierced genitals?”

“Fair point,” Erik said. “Ya like it?”

“I might never go back to regular dicks after this,” you chuckled, and Erik nodded in satisfaction. “But I don’t know if it’s the piercing, or if you’re just an absolute godlike fuck, even without that thing.”

“Mix of both?” Erik offered. “I’m sure my sparkling personality has something to do with it too.”

Before you could think of a snappy comeback, he fucked into you, and that electricity popped in your mouth as white flashed in your vision. “Fuck!” you squealed, tangling your fingers in his hair. “Erik, oh my God!”

“Right there?” he asked, and you nodded quickly. His grip on your waist tightened, and you could almost feel the capillaries bursting under your skin to bruise up all tender by tomorrow morning as he fucked into that spot once more. Your whole body jostled with the feeling, and you squeezed your thighs hard around his body, urging him on. He was quick with it now, hammering into you and forcing out uh-uh-uh! moans from you, and you dug your fingernails into his scalp. He wasn’t quiet either, hissing in tight breaths and groaning as you throbbed around him, and a properly loud moan tumbled from his lips when your mouth attached to his neck, sucking at the sensitive pulse point. “Fuck, you gonna mark me up?” he panted, and you looked up at his face. His forehead under his hair was shiny with sweat, his eyes blown way the fuck out, lips bitten all red and raw— he was just about the most handsome guy you’d ever seen.

“S’that so bad?” you asked, leaning back and biting at a different part of his skin. You intended to leave many bruises, in as many places as possible, and one of his strong hands lifted from your hip to cradle your head against his neck. Your tongue soothed the sting of your bites, and you could feel his throat and chest rumble as he pitched his head towards the ceiling and moaned.

“Not at all,” he whispered. “‘Specially if you leave your pretty lipstick all over my neck.”

“Wanna leave it everywhere,” you told him. That telltale knot was tightening at the bottom of your tummy, and, based on his shaky breathing and the slow increase in volume, he didn’t have much longer left either. “E, baby,” you whispered, and he touched his forehead to yours, stealing a kiss to your mouth. “Wanna see us. Turn me around.”

The brief few seconds where he pulled out of you felt like torture, but he guided you off the counter and around, back in the position you started with. You steadied yourself on your hands, and hardly had time to even think again before he was back inside you, anchoring on your hips. It was louder now too, the hits of his skin on yours coming faster with the angle shift, and his dick (and the associated piercing) rubbed against your tender spot with every single thrust. Your legs felt like jelly and you dug your nails into the countertop as you looked up to the mirror, and you jumped with shock.

Who the absolute fuck were you looking at? By all accounts, the girl in the mirror was you— she had your eyes, your pretty face, the same outfit you wore. But her eyes were blown wide like she was rolling, her lipstick smeared across her face with her mascara gathered and running under her eyes. Her fingers moved when yours did, her chest heaved when yours did, she even moaned when you did. This was you; or, at least, this is what Erik did to you. You didn’t hate the fucked-out look on yourself.

You cast your gaze to Erik in the mirror and found him studying your reflection as well, his bottom lip firmly between his teeth. He had pulled his shirt up with the position change, and your mouth watered at the collection of tattoos on his chest and stomach, the focal point being the large, dark skull in the middle of his torso. His stomach tensed and flexed as he fucked you, and you only managed to catch a momentary silver glint of nipple rings (what the fuck was with this guy?) before the knot in your stomach began to loosen, threatening the last shreds of your sanity.

“Erik!” you squealed. Skillfully, he molded his front to your back and placed his arms over top of yours, threading your fingers together as he bit at your shoulder.

“You gonna cum?” he asked, and you sobbed as his rhythm changed, from quick and hurried, to one hard slam after the other, a decidedly slower flow but all the more serving to get you to your end. “You gonna scream when you cream all over my cock?”

“Yes!” you cried. “Fuck, I’m so close, E, please!”

“Aw, you poor thing,” he said, all condescending once more. “Little sweetheart, can’t take it anymore, huh?” One of his hands started to inch away from yours, and you knew exactly what he was on his way to do.

You weren’t sure if his rough fingers actually made contact with your clit when you came. True to your word, you sobbed and moaned through your climax, drawn from so deep within your chest that it almost hurt, your head dropping forward as your whole body shook in the aftermath of the absolute assault on your nervous system. Erik’s strength was on full show now, because he used the little bit of it that he still had harnessed to keep you upright, his arm around your waist as he roughly buried himself up to the hilt in you, and it didn’t take long for you to feel the warmth of his cum inside you. You hadn’t even thought about a condom until right that second, when it was decidedly too late for one.

And then it was quiet. Not completely, of course; his breathing was rattly and hard from exertion, and you were sniffling and whimpering, but it was much less noise than it had previously been. He cleared his throat and sniffed, and he carefully stood back to his full height with a sigh. “Goddamn…” he whispered. “You alright, sweetheart?”

“M’good,” you whispered. “Just… Holy shit.”

Erik chuckled raspily. “I know,” he said. “Think you can stand, or do you need me to hold onto ya?”

“I can stand,” you assured him, and he slowly withdrew from you, earning himself one last, pathetic moan as his piercing rubbed against the spot inside you that felt raw and ultra-sensitive. The emptiness inside you was a strange feeling that you weren’t used to, and you tried to even out your breathing as he reached around you, grabbing at the stack of paper towels next to the sink. Before you really knew what was happening, he was on you again, turning you and lifting you back onto the counter, and you started, “Erik, I can’t, not again, give me a minute before—”

He shushed you, soft and gentle. “Not what I’m doing, sweetheart,” he told you, lifting your head up to look at him with a finger under your chin. He ran the tap against a few of the paper towels, soaking them with cold water, and he carefully wiped at your cheeks, trying to cool you down and help you settle. “There you go, that’s good, we’re calming down, we’re okay. What’s the shaking for? You alright, is it just the adrenaline? Or is something wrong?”

You hadn’t even noticed the quivering that had started in your hands until he said something, and you frowned. “I’m alright,” you whispered. “Just… Oh my God.”

He gave you a lopsided smile, then went to wipe down the sides of your mouth, cleaning up your makeup. “I know,” he said. “That was… I’ve never been like that before. I don’t know what happened to me. S’like I got inside you and, like, Hulked out or something. That was super fucked up, I’m sorry you had to see that.”

You couldn’t help your laughter. “See that?” you repeated. “Erik, I’m the one you were fucking, I lived through that. Don’t know if I’ll be able to walk tomorrow, let alone out of here tonight.”

Erik pouted at you. “Poor little princess,” he joked. “Need your prince to carry you into your Uber home?”

“I don’t need saving,” you smiled. “But I might need your number.”

Erik shared your smile, and he swooped in to land a kiss on your mouth. “See? I told you; we let cute girls touch our tattoos, and we get their numbers.”

When you woke up the next morning, in your own apartment, Anna already puking her hungover guts out in the bathroom, the first thing you thought about was Erik. You both managed to escape the bathroom unnoticed, even if you were walking like you had just ridden a bike across the country nonstop, and you found Anna out front, sharing a cigarette with some frat-dude-looking motherfucker. She hadn’t seen you and Erik together, so she didn’t try to pry into what you had been doing, but you caught Bobby’s eye, and he absolutely knew. Erik went back to his seat at the end of the bar, and you heard him ask his brother for a shot of tequila, and Bobby asked about what had happened just then, but Anna was whisking you away before you heard Erik’s response. It didn’t occur to you until you were already in the Uber home with a much-more-drunk-than-you Anna that you didn’t actually give Erik your phone number, and you could have hit yourself. How stupid did you have to be? Dude fucks you dumb and cums inside you, and you don’t even get his fucking number? What a fail.

Your whole body was sore and raw as you shifted in bed, grabbing at your phone tangled in your blankets. It was on 2% battery, having been forgotten the moment you got home, but it wasn’t the battery percentage that you were focused on. You had two texts, both about an hour old and from the same unsaved phone number, a local area code. The first text was a payment to you for $50, and the second said I’m an idiot. Get some breakfast and a Plan B. Take care of yourself. :)

Just as you were unlocking your phone to text Erik back, asking how exactly he got your phone number (probably Bobby), your phone vibrated with a third text; you could envision, for the past hour, him pacing around and debating whether to text you again. You had certainly done it before, and then promptly thrown your phone across the room when you finally hit send. So when will I get to see you again?

You hit the call button, and the phone trilled for just a few seconds before the call picked up. Erik’s raspy voice, half-morning voice and half an obvious hangover from time spent at the bar after you left, said your name, as sweet as honey, like the first time he said it, but it wasn’t a question, like he was surprised you called. No, he was even and prepared, calm, cool, and collected. The memory of him last night, eyes blown out like he was on molly and his hair in his face, flashed in your mind’s eye, such a contrast from him right now, and you smiled. “If I sent you my address, would you come pick me up?” you asked. “We can get breakfast together, and you can see me again.”

“Only if you also wanna see me,” Erik said.

You could hear his smile from across the phone, and it made you smile even wider, like some lovesick teenager. “I would love nothing more.”

#erik campbell #erik campbell x reader #erik campbell smut #erik campbell x you #final destination bloodlines #richard harmon #i uh don't look at me i'm blushing #if i missed any tags or like the format is fucked up lmk plsnthx #missed yall! love yall!

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docrobinavitch · 23 days ago

Text

penance

dr. robby x f!attending!reader masterlist content: 18+ mdni, ANGST, sexually explicit content, swearing, mentions of family trauma, complicated mother/daughter dynamic, sibling death, grief, age gap words: 5.6K synopsis: reader has worked too many goddamn shifts on the opposite shift as robby and they both take out their frustrations on one another. this takes place in the same universe as sacraments of healing, roughly a year and a half later. i think they can be read separately for the most part, you just might miss out on the full context of the fucked up family dynamics going on in the background here. a/n: well!! this was quite literally requested but for some reason i still get the feeling nobody wants to read this. kdfhgkdjhg perhaps because sacraments and now this one the reader is soooo much like me it feels like self harm at times when i write her ksdfhgkjdfg anyway i hope you guys like it!! i don't think i'll be writing anything else for these two but i am really so so grateful for all the love you've given sacraments. it is still a shock to me. as always thank you for reading.

Your eyelid was twitching. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d slept for more than three hours uninterrupted. You had worked seven night shifts back to back with a double thrown in the middle and you swore you could still hear the beep of the heart monitors even when you were at home. It was keeping you awake. It was also keeping you awake that you and Robby were on opposite schedules. You never slept well if he wasn’t in bed with you.

Your neck ached and you stretched it to one side as you held your phone a couple of inches away from your ear. Your back was pressed against the wall in the ambulance bay and your mother was shouting at you through the phone.

“If they repossess his car he’ll have no way to get to work and he’ll lose his job and he’ll be back at square one.”

“Well, Tommy should’ve thought of that before he financed a car when he had only had his new job a fuckin’ week.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, “I mean, Christ, does he ever think things through for more than five seconds?”

“We can’t all be perfect like you, Ace.”

“That’s not what I said—“

“Both our credit scores will be in the fucking toilet if they repossess, is that what you want?”

You paused and then scoffed, “You cosigned the loan?”

“He’s my baby and he needed help, of course I did,” You rolled your eyes, “I would do the same for you if you asked!”

“Well he shouldn’t have fucking asked is the point! He’s a grown man!” You sighed heavily, “How much does he need?”

Your mom’s quiet for a moment, “Fifteen thousand.”

You banged the back of your head into the brick wall behind you, squeezing your eyes shut tight. The throbbing in your neck had extended to your head. You were so fucking tired. “I can’t do this right now, I’m at work. I’ll call you back.”

“I know they pay you well at that hospital—“

“Do you have any idea how much debt I’m still in from medical school? You’re asking for the entirety of my emergency fund. Everything I’ve fucking saved.”

“He’s your baby brother. You would’ve done it for Benji.“

You balked, the back of your head bouncing off the wall. She could be so fucking cruel sometimes in an effort to get what she wanted, it still managed to shock you, to steal the air from your lungs.

Just then, Robby walked through the ambulance bay doors, backpack slung over his shoulder. He was heading home, sunglasses perched on his head to compete with the sun that was setting low in the sky.

Ever since he had come home with you that Christmas, he had become like a watchdog of sorts. His hackles would always raise whenever he heard you on the phone with someone in your family or you said you were going to see your parents. Despite it all, you still went every now and then, though you had taken to meeting them only in public where you could guarantee they wouldn’t make a scene.

The last thing you needed right now was for Robby to hear any of this conversation. He’d probably take the phone from you and tell your mom exactly where she could shove it.

You cleared your throat, swallowed down the bile of her words. “I really have to go, I’m at work. I’ll talk to you later.” You hung up without waiting for her reply, knowing you would get hell for that later.

“Hey,” Robby smiled at you, trapping you between himself and the wall, “Who was that?”

You sighed, “My mother.”

He raised his eyebrows, “Do I want to know?”

“No.” You rested your forehead against his, “You really, really don’t.”

“I miss you,” He whispered and caught your lips with his own.

You both loved Robby a criminal amount and missed him terribly considering you had been on opposite schedules for almost two weeks now, but with the call from your mom, the lack of sleep, and impending headache when you were just starting your shift, you couldn’t handle being touched right now. You felt like you were one inconvenience away from crawling out of your skin.

You pulled away, leaning your head back against the wall, “Sorry, I can’t right now.”

Robby shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away from you. It was clear to you he was trying to cover up his hurt and frustration at your rejection. It wasn’t the first time. You had been overwhelmed and overstimulated for days on end. The few times you’d run into each other you could barely tolerate a kiss on the cheek.

“Have you been sleeping?” He asked.

“Not really. Have you?”

He shrugged, “Enough. But going out of my goddamn mind from not being able to touch you for something like three weeks now.”

“Well then maybe you should tell Gloria to get me off the fucking night shift, like I asked you to three days ago.” You snapped.

He laughed shortly and ran a hand over his beard, “You know it’s not that simple. They were short an attending, you were asked to pick up the slack—“

“I wasn’t asked, I was told.”

“Fucking semantics. You get a week off after today, okay? Could you just be a team player?”

You laughed, “Have I not worked 80+ hours this week without complaint, including a fucking double? Or is this just because I won’t get on my knees and suck you off right now? Is that the kind of team player you’re looking for?”

“Wow,” He stared at you, shaking his head, “That was mean even by your standards. What did your mom say to you to provoke such vitriol, hm?”

You scoffed, “I’m fucking out of my mind with exhaustion, Robby, alright? Not everything is about her.”

“What did she say?” He repeated.

The ambulance bay doors slid open again and Abbot called out your name, “Incoming OD in five, we need you.”

You turned back to Robby, “Fuck off,” You said firmly and pushed yourself off the wall, skirting around him to get back inside.

“See you in the morning!” Robby called after you, anger lodged in every word, “Enjoy your shift!”

You raised your middle finger over your head as you walked back into the ED.

“Something going on with you and Robby?” Abbot asked. Immediately, you turned to scowl at him, “What? I can’t be concerned about my friends? You’re both tense as fuck lately, it’s killing the vibe.”

You raised your eyebrows, “The ‘vibe’?”

He stared at you, “Do you not know what it means? Because I can get Sarah to explain it to you, she’s like, fuckin’, fresh out of nursing school or something—“

“I know what it means, Jack, thank you.” Your eyelid was twitching again and you kneaded a finger against it as if you would find a reset button there, “Robby and I are fine, okay? Nothing to worry about.”

Ellis appeared behind the two of them, “She’s lying, they haven’t fucked in weeks.” Ellis hissed to Jack.

“Parker!” You whirled on her, “What the hell, I told you that in confidence!”

Jack was laughing, “It’s fine, I already knew. Robby told me.”

You scoffed and felt your face redden, “Oh, that’s fantastic, so the whole ER knows I’m going through a dry spell?”

Jack shrugged, a smirk on his face, “You know, if you want to get him back here I can make sure no one goes in the on call room—“

You raised a finger to quiet him, “Not another word.” You sighed and stretched your neck again, “Bunch of animals, all of you. I hate the night shift.”

“The night shift doesn’t like you either,” Ellis said, “You’re harshing the vibe.”

You and Jack made eye contact, and though you shook your head in exasperation, you were finally, mercifully, smiling.

***

Your phone wouldn’t stop ringing. It was past midnight and she was still hounding you. Text after text after missed call after voicemail.

If he doesn’t pay the 15k within 24 hours the car will get repo’d

if it was you, we’d all help you, Ace

But that was just it, wasn’t it. It would never be you because you had learned to be so fucking Type A from an early age so as not to be a burden. So you wouldn’t have to need anyone. You only ever needed Benji, and he was gone. And you loved Tommy, truly, but everything had always been handed to him. No one had ever told him no. It was why they were in this situation to begin with. He took and took and took and didn’t care who he hurt in the process. You had given him money more times than you could count, even when you really didn’t have it to give. And always, you’d regret it when he never suddenly became more responsible.

“Dr. Y/N?” It was Ellis in front of you when you looked up from your phone.

“Hi, sorry.” You shook the thoughts from your head, “What d’you need?”

Her eyes narrowed, tracing a path from your face to your phone and back again, “You good?”

You smiled, “Just tired.” You nodded to the iPad in her hand, “Is that South 17’s labs?”

“Yeah.” She handed you the iPad and you listened to her as she reported the results and her recommended course of treatment.

You nodded, “That all sounds good. Great work, Dr. Ellis.”

Ellis took the iPad back from you, but then looking over your shoulder, she paused, “Dr. Robby?”

You turned, and Robby was standing there in sweats and a hoodie. Immediately, your head went in a million different places at once as you rushed over to him, “What are you doing here, baby?” You looked him over, panic beginning to set in, “Are you hurt?”

“Oh, it’s ‘baby’ now, is it?” He looked tired as he looked down at you, “After the way you spoke to me earlier?”

You opened and closed your mouth, then sighed, “I’m—I’m sorry. I’m just… I’m so tired.” Tears pin pricked the backs of your eyes.

He nodded, “Can we talk for a minute?”

You followed him out to the ambulance bay, your anxiety a living thing in your chest. He was upset. He showed up at work in the middle of the night. This was it, wasn’t it? He’d finally had enough. He was leaving. You were always too much, always too much of a burden. You both needed too much and too little. There had always been an expiration date on the two of you, but somehow you’d thought maybe you could extend it further and further.

Robby turned to you and put his hands together in front of his mouth, looking down towards the ground, “I want to preface this by saying I did not go snooping looking for this information. Your iPad would not stop fucking dinging and I couldn’t sleep.”

You frowned, completely thrown off by this turn in the conversation, “My iPad? What about my iPad?”

“It kept ringing whenever you got a call or text from your mother. I went to go turn it off, but I saw the texts.”

You sighed, “Oh…” Then you shook your head, “I’m sorry, maybe it’s the lack of sleep, I still don’t understand why you’re here.”

“You’re not going to give Tommy fifteen grand, are you?”

Oh. He was here because he was worried about you. Not leaving. He wasn’t leaving. Suddenly, his protective behavior seemed like a relief. You felt the bizarre urge to laugh, then. But he was still looking at you, “Um, I—I don’t know.” You said finally.

He sighed, “Honey, I know you don’t have that kind of money. I’ve seen what you pay monthly for student loans.”

“I have fifteen thousand in my savings account.”

“That’s for emergencies.”

You huffed impatiently, “Can’t this wait until I get home? You should be sleeping.”

“No, because I need to know that you understand you don’t owe them anything.” He said fiercely.

“Robby—“

“No, don’t tell me it’s none of my business or, or I don’t understand. Every time you talk to them I watch them knock you down a peg. Make you believe you don’t deserve what you have or that you owe them for it. And still, you give and give and give, and it’s breaking my heart. You tear yourself open again and again hoping this time they’ll love you like you deserve,” He shook his head, “You don’t need them to. Baby, I promise, you don’t need them to.”

You shook your head marginally, eyes filling with tears. It was both frustrating and incredibly soothing to be known so well. “There’s still six hours left of my shift, I really don’t want to do this right now.”

“Too bad. I’ll tell Jack you’re leaving early.”

It was the wrong thing to say. You could tell he was genuinely concerned for you and that was all well and good, but you weren’t a child to be ordered around at his whim. Besides which, you had begged him to get you off the night shift days ago and he had simply shrugged his shoulders and said it was out of his hands. But now, suddenly, you could go home, when it suited him. Now he would do something about it with just six hours left.

Any progress he may have just made quickly evaporated and you carefully padlocked him out.

You shook your head at him, “I don’t need daddy to intervene on my behalf, I’m a big girl—“

“That’s not what I meant—“

“—Go home, Robby. We’ll talk later.”

You walked back inside without waiting for his reply.

What you didn’t notice was five minutes later when he followed you back inside. You were busy with a head injury on a two year old who had tried to climb out of his crib and hit his head on a dresser on his way down. You didn’t see him follow Abbot and pull him into an empty patient room.

Afterwards, you grabbed a Snickers bar from the break room and headed to the hub to see how bad of a mess the board was looking. As you tore a bite from the candy bar, Abbot walked up to you.

“You okay?” He asked softly.

You frowned and turned to look at him. He was regarding you with a soft intensity you had only seen him look at his residents with. The underdogs who needed a bit more encouragement to gain their footing. He was assessing you, you realized.

You shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot and looked back up at the board, “M’fine. Stop looking at me like that, it’s giving me hives.”

He sighed next to you, “Why don’t you go home? Get some sleep? You’ve worked eight days straight, you must be exhausted.”

Your jaw paused mid chew and you turned back to him before swallowing, “Where is he?”

“Hm?”

Your eyes flitted around the emergency room, “Don’t play dumb, Abbot. Robby, where is he? He told you to send me home? After I asked him not to?”

Jack sighed, “He’s worried about you.”

You laughed, “Right. And do you think if I came in during one of his shifts and said he should go home early because I was worried about him that he’d listen?”

He tilted his head to force you to look at him, “Come on, kid. You don’t wanna be here anyway, I can tell. Don’t be stubborn.”

You shook your head and scoffed, “The two of you are fucking insufferable.”

“Oh, don’t be like that—“

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving.” You said, walking off towards the lockers.

When you got to the lockers, you stopped and scowled when you saw Robby leaning against them. He pocketed his phone and eyed you as you opened your locker and grabbed your things.

You slammed your locker shut and started walking without waiting to see if he followed.

***

Of course, he followed. Long and even strides just behind your furious and frantic gate.

And it made you angrier that he was so calm, no doubt relishing in the fact that he had won.

Once inside your apartment, you dropped your backpack and kicked off your sneakers with an attitude so adolescent like, Robby had to fight a smirk.

You headed to the fridge, grabbed an IPA and cracked the can open before taking a long drink. Robby followed as you made your way to the bathroom, beginning to strip. Still ignoring him.

“You’re not going to invite me to share your shower beer?” He asked, leaning in the doorway.

The truth was, you were nearly buzzing with anxiety and frustration. With him, with your family, with Abbot. The feeling of failure at not being able to finish your shift. The exhaustion that infected you to your very bones. The thought that if you didn’t come through for Tommy he would lose his job and your mother’s credit would be fucked. You thought if he touched you then you might start yelling, or worse, sobbing.

You said nothing, turned on the shower and faced away from him as you waited for the water to warm. You tapped your fingers erratically against your beer can and stretched your still aching neck.

“Your neck bothering you again?” You continued to ignore him, but stopped stretching. You heard him sigh behind you, “I could give you a massage in the shower. If you agree to a truce. You were really mean earlier. I was overbearing and controlling just now. What d’you say we call it even?”

Your neck really did hurt and it had spread to your shoulders and upper back as well as causing a throbbing headache. And the last time Robby had gently kneaded at the knots there, the relief had been almost instant.

“Fine.” You said softly and climbed into the shower, perching your beer precariously in the shower caddy that hung from the shower head.

You heard him undress and then the sound of the curtain rustling as he climbed in behind you.

He rested his hands on your hips first, leaning his head down to kiss your shoulders. His touch was soft and tender and everything today and this week had not been. You had to remind yourself to breathe so you wouldn’t cry.

“Too much?” He murmured against your skin.

You were afraid to speak, so you pushed yourself back into him instead. He twined his arms fully around your waist, your back flush to his chest. You felt his chest heave with a sigh of contentment and suddenly you felt guilty of depriving him of your touch for so long.

In silent apology, you passed the beer can to him and kissed the palm of the hand he wasn’t using.

“I thought you were breaking up with me. When you showed up at the ER.” You said softly.

You felt him tense behind you, “Why would you think that?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “I don’t know. I was mean earlier.”

He’s quiet a moment, trying to find the right words to say, how to reassure you that it had never even crossed his mind, “We can both be… difficult at times. You worked too much this week, you should’ve never even been working that shift today. I was dismissive. You were exhausted. I know you didn’t mean it. That you wouldn’t have said it under any other circumstances. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

After passing the beer back to you, he raised his hands to the back of your neck, kneading gentle circles with his thumbs deep into your muscles. It took only a few moments of this before you were whimpering. You swore you heard Robby chuckle behind you at the sounds.

He moved his hands lower, to your shoulders, and hissed as he felt the knots beneath your skin, “Fuck, sweetheart, how did you get so tense?” He pressed a kiss to your hair, “Am I not taking good enough care of you?”

You turned in his arms so you could see his face, bringing your hands up to cup his cheeks, “If anything you take too good care of me.” You said softly, eyes searching him. He closed his eyes at your touch, inhaling deeply. “C’mere.” You wrapped your arms around him, pulling until his head rested on your shoulder as you lightly scratched his back. “I’m sorry.”

Under the warm spray of the shower and the beer starting to hit, the frantic energy was beginning to leave you.

“I’m sorry too.” He pulled away slightly to bend your foreheads together, “I still don’t think you should hand off your emergency fund to your brother, though.”

You ran your hands up and down his chest, eyes snagging on the chain around his neck. It had, tragically, been a long time since you had seen him shirtless. With the anxiety beginning to drain from you, the sight of him naked in front of you like this had your blood beginning to pound, “Can we talk about that in the morning, please?”

He must’ve heard the hitch in your voice because you saw the beginnings of a smirk on his face, “Was there something else you wanted to do tonight?”

You licked your lips and swallowed, watched as his eyes traced the bob of your throat, “Perhaps.”

His eyes darted back up to yours and he brushed a thumb across your lower lip, “It’s okay?” He asked, breathless, and it sent a pang through you. That he was worried maybe you didn’t want him.

You nodded eagerly and then his mouth was on yours. It was deep and imploring the way he kissed you. Slow and patient, even though he had been waiting, begging, to taste you like this for weeks. But Robby had never been a frantic lover, he always longed for deep and slow so he could really feel you, commit every touch and taste to memory to be dissected later when you weren’t around. When all he had to satisfy himself was the thought of you.

He was capable of doing it fast and rough, if that was what you needed, but he would choose this every time. Still kissing you, he reached behind you to turn off the shower.

“No shower sex?” You teased.

“Absolutely not,” He grabbed a towel and wrapped it as much as he could around both of you, drying quickly, “Not with the way I need to have you right now.”

Your stomach flipped as he guided you back to the bedroom, lips never leaving yours. When the backs of your legs hit the bed, you stopped him with a hand to his chest.

“You first,” You said, gesturing to the bed.

He raised his eyebrows, but said nothing more as he sat on the edge of the bed. You stood between his thighs, hand still pressed to his chest. Robby put his hand over yours, face tilted up just a bit so he could watch you.

You pushed gently until he was flat on the bed crawling over him until you were perched above him. Teasingly, you ground down, rubbing your folds against his erection and watched with satisfaction as his eyes rolled back.

“Fuck,” He swore, and then reached a hand to the back of your neck, pulling you back down so he could muffle his desperate whines with your mouth.

You kept grinding as you kissed him, sucking on his tongue as you slid against him, almost, almost allowing him to slip inside, but not quite. Over and over and over until he felt delirious and a little insane.

“This is fucking cruel,” He panted desperately after a few minutes of your teasing, “If I knew you were going to do this I never would have let you get on top.”

“Oh?” You smirked, “I thought you liked it slow?”

Again, you teased his tip with your entrance, and he made a noise halfway between a groan and a laugh when you slipped away again, “Oh, sweetheart, if you don’t ride me right fucking now, I will make you regret how much of a brat you’re being.”

As enticing as that sounded to you, you decided to put him out of his misery. Pushing a hand between the two of you, you guided him to your entrance before fully taking him. Your head instantly fell to his shoulder, gasping as he stretched you out.

“That’s it,” He sighed, his hips bucking into you. As you adjusted to the stretch of him, whining into his neck, he gripped your hips with his fingers and started rolling them himself, “Come on, sweetheart, this is what you wanted, right? Push that pretty head of yours up, wanna see your eyes on me when you ride me.”

You did as you were told. Pushed yourself up with your hands flat to his chest, he hit a different spot now and it had you gasping, how deep he hit.

“You can take it,” He encouraged, rolling your hips again with his hands. For a moment, the feel of him inside you was so intense, spots clouded your vision, “That’s it,” He said when he felt you begin to bounce on him without his assistance, “Good girl. Keep your eyes on me.”

He reached a hand to the apex of your thighs, circling your clit, and you very nearly folded in half at the sensation, but Robby caught you with his other hand, “Keep moving those hips or I’ll stop.”

It was supposed to be you who was in control, but as soon as he had filled you up, all ability to think had left you. The effect he had on you was all consuming. It was unfair, really. Whimpering, you continued rolling your hips, the two of you moaning in sync as you did.

Eventually, Robby sat up, his hands coming to your back to keep you in his lap, “I think it’s time I take over, hm?” He asked softly and kissed you when you nodded, breathless.

You lifted off of him, both of you hissing at the loss and then Robby directed you to lie flat on your stomach. “Up just a little?” He murmured, using a hand to pull your hips up just slightly at an angle, “There you go, good girl.”

Fisting his cock, he leaned down so he could taste you, licking long stripes from your clit to the ends of your folds and you moaned, fisting the bed sheets.

Your breathing caught when he pushed a finger into you and you heard him sigh from behind you. “Fuck me,” He murmured more to himself than to you.

Finally, he pushed himself into you and then leaned over you, pushing you both flat against the mattress. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, not to choke, but the suggestion that he could was there and your stomach tightened.

“I want you to come first,” He whispered in your ear as he started to rock back and forth, effortlessly hitting that spot that made you dizzy with pleasure. The movement created friction from the bed sheets to your clit and you moaned, “Think you can do that for me, angel?”

You hummed in response, “Already close.” You managed.

He quickened his pace only slightly, but enough that the rhythm had every one of your muscles tightening, coiling for release, “Oh, I can feel how close you are,” He groaned, your walls tightening around him, “Come on, sweetheart, just a little more.”

You rutted your hips further into the mattress as he rocked into you, creating as much friction as possible, and then you were coming undone. Robby’s arms tightened around you as if to anchor you as your muscles contracted repeatedly and he whispered how good you are, how pretty, all the while still rocking his hips into you.

As you came down from your orgasm, he quickened his thrusts, pushing into you harder and faster until he was quickly pulling out of you, ropes of cum releasing on your ass and back.

He collapsed to the side of you, both of you breathing hard as you turned to look at each other. You smiled softly at him, eyes drooping with exhaustion now that the rush of your climax had begun to fade.

He threaded a hand through the hair at the nape of your neck and pulled you to him, kissing you tenderly, “Don’t move.”

Once he had cleaned you up, he guided you back to the shower. Back under the water, he silently turned you so he could resume massaging your shoulders and neck.

“Gonna put me to sleep,” You said after a few minutes under the gentle assault of his fingers.

“That’s the idea.”

You whined, “But it’s been so long, don’t you want a round two?”

He chuckled behind you, “You need to sleep first, you’re running on fumes and spite.”

You smirked, “I have enough of both to make you come again.”

“Tempting,” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, “But no.” He turned off the shower and grabbed a towel to wrap around you, “Bed. Now.”

“Buzzkill.” You teased as you dried yourself off, slipping into a clean t-shirt and panties before sliding between the sheets.

Robby joined you shortly after and the two of you faced each other in bed. Your eyes were closed and you listened to the sound of his breathing, he took a deep inhale before speaking again, “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I have a feeling your phone’s gonna start ringing very early tomorrow. I don’t want you talking to them before we’ve had a chance to talk.”

You sighed and blinked your eyes open again. The room was dark, but you could make out the shape of him, the soft glint of his eyes as they watched you. His hand rested on your hip, his thumb rubbing circles at the bare skin between your panties and t-shirt.

“What would you have me do?” You asked softly, “Tell them to get fucked?”

“You should tell them you don’t have the money.”

“But I do have the money.”

“When was the last time you gave Tommy money, hm?”

You sighed, “Last year.”

“How much?”

“Three grand.”

“And what did he do with it?” You were quiet, so he answered for you, “He gambled it all away in two weeks, if I remember correctly.”

“This is different, it’s for a solid, tangible item that he needs—“

“Yeah, a car he fucking needs and that he hasn’t been taking care of. He has no fucking reason to because he knows you’ll swoop in to save him whenever he needs it.”

Your chin wobbled and you were thankful the darkness must have covered the hurt look on your face, “You do realize,” You said slowly, focusing on making sure your voice didn’t shake, “That this is all I have? That I have no worth to them if I can’t… If I can’t be the one to fix things?”

“Baby, what I’m trying to tell you is that you’ll never win them that way.” He said gently, “You’ve been cleaning up their messes for, what? Twenty years now? Have you gotten what you want yet? Do they respect you? Love you? Are they gentle with you or do they keep trying to see how many pieces they can break you into?”

You flinched, “That’s a fucked up thing to say to me.” You said quietly.

You heard him sigh and he pulled you closer to him, a silent apology. He didn’t want to hurt you, but it was frankly exhausting watching the way your family continued to take advantage of you.

“What was it your therapist said? About your mom? About your brother?”

You took a shaky inhale, “That they’ve been like this their whole lives and have never tried to change. So my continued efforts to help them change are not only in vein they just end up damaging me instead.”

Robby said nothing, but rubbed your back as he waited. Waited for you to hear what you’d just said, what your therapist had been saying, what he had been saying all day. You deserved better than this from them, God knew, but you would never get it. And it would destroy you the more you kept trying.

You bit your lip, “Fuck.” He heard the tears in the back of your throat as you said it. The realization hitting you all at once, the one you knew but had been trying your best to avoid confronting

He kissed your hair, “Don’t give him that money,” He murmured, “Take care of yourself for once.”

You pushed your face into his neck and sighed, “Okay.”

“I’ll talk to them if you need me to.”

“No,” You said quickly, “No, I can do it.”

He tenderly kissed all over your face, and then finally, kissed your lips, long and slow and he hoped full of as much love as he felt, “You’re very brave, you know?” He said softly.

You smiled, “Thank you.”

Robby pressed one last kiss to your mouth before tucking you under his chin, “Now, get some sleep, sweetheart.”

#the pitt #the pitt x reader #dr robby #dr robby x reader #michael robinavitch #michael robinavitch x reader #dr robby fic #dr robby imagine #dr robby smut #mine

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lambilegs · 7 months ago

Note

I adore your best friend's older sister! Sevika headcanons, literally been rereading since last night 😫

I had a thought, a little crumb, a little ✨food for thought ✨, but what about Best friend's older sister! Sevika getting jealous. Maybe they aren't together yet and she spots reader getting a lil too cozy with another friend. Or maybe they are together and Sevika is not liking the way reader's coworker is gettin a lil too comfy 👀😤

I've truly thought about this too often lol, sorry for the rambles ♡

best friend's older sister!sevika getting jealous <3

note to anon: BAE DON'T APOLOGIZE THIS IDEA IS SOOOO <33 and omg thank you so so much!! I'm so happy you like it hehe. so, I decided to expand upon the first idea you gave because it's so so good, though I LOVE both. like, thank you so much for sending these thoughts AHHH <33

so, I totally agree with you that best friend's older sister!sevika would definitely be possessive. it's only worsened pre-confession because you're not hers yet, so she doesn't feel like she has much of a right to do anything about it. at least if you guys were together, she could wrap her arm around your waist or kiss your head, something silent to signify to others that you're hers.

but, as much as you two have teased and been pushing and pulling these past few months, that's all it's been. push, pull, push, pull. no confession, no asking out, no dates. and, listen, sevika doesn't mind the long game necessarily -- she knew from the get go that if she was gonna be pursuing you, it'd have to be serious. she wasn't about to get into some vague, unidentified shit with her sister's best friend. not only would her sister kill her for that, but it's not even what she's interested in in the first place. it's easy to talk to you, to trust you. it's easy to want something longterm with you. but, longterm means she needs to put in the work of trusting you. and for her, that takes a while. so, she doesn't mind the long game.

what she does mind, though, is that taking things slow means that in this whole getting-to-know-you phase, she doesn't know exactly where your head is at. if you want something serious, if you're ready for a relationship. she knows she should be asking you these questions, but as much as she hates to admit it, it makes her uncomfortable to think of being so honest about these feelings of hers. and what being honest could potentially lead to, like a pierce into your guys' relationship, whatever the hell it is.

but, goddammit, is it fucking hard to not grab you, drag you to her room and show you exactly how she feels when you're on the living room couch, canoodling up to one of the girls in yours and her sister's friend group. she knows how it is for you guys. no boundaries, endless amounts of teasing, flirting, nasty jokes. but, that doesn't make it any easier to see you nuzzling your head into one of their shoulders, the two of you swapping and laughing hysterically over suggestive comments about leaving the room to do some "private activities."

sevika grits her teeth from where she can hear the conversation, gripping the handle to the fridge hard. she sucks in a sharp breath, shakes her head, and grabs her bottle of water from the side shelf. shutting it close quietly, she makes her way to her bedroom, sock-clad feet heavy against the wood.

when she walks past your group, practically cuddled in the living room, she nods quietly at the group of you guys, feeling her shoulders tense up when you and her make eye contact. your head darts off your friend's shoulder, and she nearly snickers. you really aren't subtle when it comes to paying her attention. and today, she doesn't feel like returning it, her stomach clenched in anger over the unabashed flirting she just overheard.

she's in the middle of tinkering at her desk, tweaking some annoying shit that keeps making a scraping noise every few hours, when a knock comes to her room.

"yeah?" she mutters, trying not to throw the screwdriver right at the wall.

when you poke your head in, she glances at your momentarily before continuing her work. she hates how her stomach flips at your arrival, how she suddenly feels clumsy with the tools under your gaze.

"what?"

you start from where you lean on her doorframe. "I just, um, wanted to check if we're good?"

"just peachy," she huffs out, dragging her wrist past her brow, which is sticky with sweat. "why?"

"well, um..." you trail off, shifting on your feet. "you usually smile or say hi now, and right now, you didn't."

she feels a flash of irrational annoyance. she doesn't like the fact that you can read her so easily, as though you have her constantly under a microscope. she doesn't wanna have to deal with her jealousy, her feelings, but you cornering and confronting her like this doesn't make that easy.

"I'm fine."

she blinks hard at the gears when her bedroom door softly clicks shut.

"no, you're not. sevika, come on, what's wrong?" you trot over to her desk, standing right next to her, shoving your presence into her space. "tell me."

she sighs, her body stiff with embarrassment and irritation at your stubbornness. god, things would be so much easier if you weren't so damn feisty, always snapping back at her. but, at the same time, though she'd never tell you, she can't help but like your persistence.

"do you have to be so damn flirty with all your friends?" she bites, immediately regretting the words as soon as they shoot out. so much for subtlety.

your head jerks back. "that's why you're upset? sevika, I've always flirted with them, you know that. I'm sure you've seen your fair share of it for years now."

"yeah, well, now, it's different." she keeps her eyes locked onto the desk, and when she realizes just how thinly veiled the implication of her words are, she rushes to add, "now, I think it's risky shit. you know, someone could get the wrong idea."

you scoff. "it's been like this for years. no one will get the wrong idea."

she rolls her eyes, grumbling incoherent words. she knows you're right. she's made her own fair share of jokes like that with her buddies, even the ones she wouldn't be caught dead with in any lifetime. and you're right, your little gang has always been like this. but, none of that helps to dampen the burning irritation that grows in her stomach when she sees you being so touchy with someone who isn't her. with someone who may think they have a chance with you, no matter how slim. she doesn't want you to have options, she wants to be the only one you see in that way.

"and I don't want you to get the wrong idea, either."

she freezes at the words, her hand stilling.

you inch in closer and your warm palm rests on her shoulder. she feels something stir inside her at the touch, wishing you'd slide the rest of your hand down her arm. you guys have touched briefly, sure, but it's usually fleeting, teasing. this, though? this is tender, and -- it's intimate. you're trying to reassure her, she can tell. she knows it's a nice thing to do, but a part of her cringes at the fact that her feelings were so badly concealed that you even needed to comfort her at all. she should be better than this.

"I don't see anyone in my group like that, okay?" you pause, and the silence between you two thickens. right before it becomes suffocating to the point of sevika forcing herself to respond, you add, your voice quiet and shaky, "trust me, it's not my friends whose attention I want like that. just one other person... who's close by."

her nostrils flare, her breaths feeling tighter than before. are you saying what she thinks you are?

"okay," she manages to get out.

"okay." your hand slips from her shoulder, and she feels the cold of your absence as you turn to leave. without thinking, her hand flies up, catching yours.

your head whips to her in surprise, eyes wide and curious.

she thumbs at your pulse point, some of her confidence regaining through feeling how it spikes. but, still, there's an undercurrent of discomfort, so she tries to steady her voice before saying, "you know, I have a pretty good shoulder too."

you laugh, ducking your head down. sevika tries not to pull you in closer, coax you to look at her when she talks. "yes, I'm sure you do," you respond, a sarcastic lilt to your voice.

"well, obviously. you're always checking me out when I work out."

you splutter, eyebrows scrunched indignantly. "well, that's because you insist on working out in front of us always! for all I know, maybe you're the one who's into someone in our group."

your voice is mocking, but sevika hears the tremors of it towards the end. are you nervous that she maybe is into someone else but you? or are you hopeful it's you?

you gave her a bit of assurance, so she might as well return the favour.

"maybe there is someone I'm trying to impress. someone who'd maybe notice that more if they weren't always shoving their face in other people's chests."

she can see how your eyes bulge at the semi-confession, your palm slick with sweat in her hand. your mouth flaps open for a few seconds, before shakily saying, "well, you did offer yourself up as a substitute."

her cheeks ache with how hard she's trying not to grin too widely. "don't get too excited."

you wring your hand from her grip, smiling coyly as you reach for her doorknob. "I'll try to contain myself."

#WROTE THIS IN A RUSH BC I'M HEADING OUT SOON BUT I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY HEHE #not proofread I'm sorryyyy #s.writing #sevika #sevika x reader #sevika x you #arcane x you

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last-words-ofashootingstar · 28 days ago

Text

Lowlife Princess

Act Two: The Joker is one hell of a force to be reckoned with, especially when it comes to his precious girlfriend. Or — You and Jeong Yunho are perfect for one another.

❥Jeong Yunho x fem reader

"They became the King and Queen of Gotham City — and God help anyone who disrespected the Queen."

(>ᴗ•)genre: smut with plot, gotham au

♫soundtrack♫

SERIOUSLY 18 AND OLDER. MINORS TAKE YOUR LEAVE.

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: not beta read, sugar baby reader / obsessive joker yunho, daddy kink outside of sex, possessive behavior, reader wears skirts and dresses because yun likes it but he doesn't make her, yunho goes above and beyond to help reader get revenge, kidnapping, the couple who tortures together stays together aka they torture someone (not detailed, mostly off screen), reader showing just how crazy she can be, recounting murder of family members, smoking and trying to quit (again, yun), emotional vulnerability, causal nudity, reader stalked / threatened / held hostage briefly, physical violence (not towards reader), blood, murder, crazy ass yunho laughing while he kills someone / crazy ass reader gets turned on by it.

smut warnings: very long smut scenes, soooo much more sex than act one; both have high sex drives and now there's no holding back- 😭 general: rough dom yunho, so many pet names (baby, princess, pretty girl, doll, love, angel, sweetie (variations of little, poor, sweet, dumb / stupid, needy, all used affectionately) ), daddy kink + ddlg themes, hardcore dacryphilia, size difference!!, he has a habit of edging himself, overstimulation, yunho likes when reader is a bit mean, praise + kind of condescending yunho, EXTREMELY possessive dialogue (going both ways), cunnilingus, unprotected (wrap it before you tap it), dumbification, spit, matching each others freak on an astronomical level, lowkey marathon sex, yunho king of dirty talk, squirting, spanking + slapping, choking !!! manhandling !!! hardcore sex !!! they are freak nasty !!! 1: brief somnophilia (yun wakes reader up with head), gentle to rough, yunho makes reader scream his name + say she belongs to him, intense morning sex, orgasm control, talk about fantasies including cnc + free use / exhibitionism / anal / throat training 2: brief somno (reader wakes yun up with head), i went maybe a smidge too detailed while describing his cock... cock worship ! kind of ball worship, hand job, hand kink goes both ways, face + throat fucking / head pushing, tongue in ear action (don't look at me-), mid sex love confession, messy make out, slight cnc: yunho 'makes' reader take more than she can handle but she can stop him at any time, fingering, aftercare wooohoo !

➯a/n: dAYYYUM YALL CALM DOWN kkkkk but in all seriousness thank you, i am really proud of this story so im glad people like it so far ! im just as crazy for joker yunho as you guys lol aaand tag list at the bottom because i legit ran out of room above the cut from the warnings 🥲 enjoy and let me know what you think <3

♡masterlist + navigation !♡

ꕥ

You wake up sore. Muscles aching, hips tender. And you feel like you're about to fall into a warm pool of ecstasy. Tears are already welling up in your sleep hazed eyes.

"Good mornin', doll." Yunho's voice reaches you muffledly, and you quickly find why when you lift your heavy head off the pillow and find him lying between your legs.

At some point last night, he came home with you. Stayed with you and held you until you both fell asleep.

"Yunie?" You moan sleepily, slumping back into the mattress. "What're you doing?"

"Breakfast~" He chuckles, giving your slit a long, slow lick that makes you shiver. "I told you I wanted to spoil your pussy, didn't I?"

You let out a little whine, melting beneath his tongue as he starts lapping at your clit. "F-uck," you stutter, rubbing your eyes before you look down at him again. "How long have you been down there?"

He looks at his watch from where he caresses your sore hip. Not even bothering to remove his tongue from your wetness, he holds up two fingers. "Only two minutes? I feel like I'm about to cum..." You sigh softly, his actions filling your sleep addled body with pure bliss.

"Twenty," he mumbles with a mouthful of you, having wrapped his lips around your cunt and began sucking. He lets go with a lewd pop. "Pretty sure you already have, princess~"

"One more then," you ramble out, quickly pulling his head back towards you by his hair and making him moan. "Please, Daddy? Your tongue feels so good~"

He can't deny you. He said he'd give you anything you wanted, and if you want him to eat you out until he physically can't anymore — he will. His tongue is back to work in a second, licking at your clit while his lips massage your swollen ones; still puffy from taking his pounding. Making out with your cunt slow and passionate, he has to grind down on your mattress to relieve some of the pressure of his hard on.

It doesn't take long for you to crash into your peak, sensitive from last night and newly awakened after his almost half hour long teasing. You meet it with a broken gasp, your twitching hips held still by his warm grip, tears slipping down your face and wetting your pillow.

His hands slide up your body as he crawls up to hover over you; coming all the way to cradle your heated face. "I could eat you out for hours, baby," he whispers against your lips before kissing you softly, smearing your own slick against your face.

"Will you fuck me? Please?" You whine breathlessly when he pulls back, tracing your hand across his naked back and feeling the scratches you left there. "I want to make you feel good, J."

"Fuck," he sighs, leaning his forehead against yours, "you're so tempting~" He searches your eyes deeply, "was I too rough last night, love?"

You blink a few times, taking in the new nickname with a soft smile. "No," you shake your head, spreading your legs further for him, "I liked it, a lot..."

"Good~" He pecks your lips before rolling you onto your side, not giving you enough time to wonder what's he's up when when slots himself behind you; his bulge against your ass. "I woke up so hard for you... I thought last night was the best dream of my life~"

You gasp softly as he lines up with you, using the mix of his spit and your arousal to lube himself up, grinding against you. "Fuck," you breathe out in a huff, dripping on his length from the way he wraps his arms around your waist tenderly, "you're gonna have me like this?"

"Mhm~" He kisses your shoulder, rubbing his thumbs over your ribs soothingly as he sinks into you slowly, letting his eyes roll back freely. You feel so hot and billowy around his pulsing girth. Like heaven on Earth. "Best of both worlds," his voice is dripping with pleasure, "get to cuddle and fuck."

"I love that," you laugh airily, holding your hands over his while he begins thrusting slowly. His member stretching you out so gently makes you dizzy. "Love it when you hold me, Daddy..."

"I know you do, sweet girl~" He smiles into your skin, keeping his pace leisurely and deep; massaging your sore walls with his cock. "You fit so perfect in my arms, don't you?"

"God, yes," you sniffle, holding his hands tighter. You don't know if you'll ever get over crying during sex — probably not. Because Yunho is encouraging it. He likes it. He likes making you feel so good you cry; he loves it. Even when he gifted you your jacket and you started tearing up, he had got hard.

Something is wired a bit off in your mind; crying when you feel even an ounce of pleasure or sudden happiness. But that's okay — something is wired completely off in his; getting rock hard when he makes you cry.

"You cryin' already, princess?" He coos into your ear as he continues his lazy early morning stroking of your insides. "You like it that much? Am I making you feel so good you don't know what to do?" He chuckles as you let out a muffled 'mhm', not trusting your voice to do more without sobbing.

He can tell you feel vulnerable, and that makes it all the better because you continue to hold his hands and trust him not to break you in your fragile state. He can hold you like a breakable doll, like now, and he can manipulate your body like a lewd toy, like last night — and you love it just as much either way. And he won't take advantage of that fact.

Now that you're all his, he's going to do everything in his power to make you feel happy and safe and fucked to contentment.

"Don't you worry, baby-doll," the hybrid of his two nicknames for you makes you clench around him, breathing shakily, "Daddy will take care of you and your wet little cunt~"

"Nghh-" You gurgle on your own moan as one of his arms slips up and his large hand wraps around your throat, choking you just enough to cut off a bit of your air flow.

"Shit-" He hisses as you clench around him tightly, leaning his head against your shoulder, "you really do like it when I choke you~ You're fucking perfect..." You also, evidently, like it when he praises you — because a shiver runs through your body as you cum around him, moaning and sobbing in some sort of harmonious mix.

"Y-Yunie!" You croak out with a whine, breathing deeply as he eases his grip and strokes your neck softly.

"Shhh, you're okay~ Can you take it just a little longer, princess?" He reaches down and cups your cunt softly, making you fidget. One of his arms around your shoulders and the other over your hips, though; you don't get far. "Quit squirmin', use your words."

You yelp as he sucks on your neck, his hand squeezing your puffy pussy as he continues to thrust at a torturously slow pace. "F-fuuuck! Fuck you, why is your cock so perfect?"

He has a huge grin on his lips, body tingling at your tearful voice. The way you said 'fuck you' and then immediately praised him makes his brain pleasantly foggy. "Can you take it, baby? You gonna let me fuck you until I fill your perfect pussy~?"

"Ah~ Uh-huh!"

"Words, doll~"

You groan loudly, eyes squeezing shut and making fat tears roll down your face. "Yes! Yes, Daddy!"

"Yes?" The feeling of his tongue tracing up to your ear makes you tremble. "Say, 'Daddy, please fuck my perfect pussy until you cum'," he whispers right to you, moaning at the way your walls twitch around him. "Make it good, baby, you know I don't like to ask for things twice."

Zero hesitation is to be found as you grab at the sheets, steadying yourself as he locks a leg over yours and starts fucking into you with more force. Still slow and steady, but it feels like his rattling your brains every time he bottoms out. His chest is so warm against your back.

"Yunie! Daddy, p-please- oh, god~ Fuck m- ah! I can't think! M'sorry, I can't think!"

"Poor baby~" His laughter tickles your neck, "can't even remember a sentence cause I'm dicking you so good, huh?"

"Nuh-uh," you shake your head, that's one thing you can do.

The spank on your ass makes you shout, both of your hands flying up to your face and covering your mouth. "Words, baby," he reminds you with a threat, "or I'm gonna have to stop."

"No! Don't stop!" You wail behind your hands, grinding your hips back into him and making him moan deeply. "Please-" You whine as you search your scrambled brains, "oh! Daddy! Please, fuck my p-perfect pussy until you cum!" It comes out a bit slurred, but it plasters a smirk on his face nonetheless; even more satisfied when you add some of your own. "Fill me up, Yunie~ Want it, want it, pleaseee!"

"Oh, that's a good girl, I knew you could do it~" He coos, making your heart flutter as he places a kiss to the back of your neck; wrapping his arms up under yours and holding your shoulders. "My little doll~" His sudden quicker pace makes you scream, hands back over your mouth and muffling your own noises roughly; tears soaking your fingers.

He laughs breathlessly at your efforts, because you're still loud as all get out even with both hands slapped over your mouth. "Scared to wake the neighbors, princess? Don't want them to know The Joker is all up in your guts~?" He grabs your wrists, pulling them down to your chest and pinning them there.

"Ha-harder!"

Your face meets the pillow before you know up from down; laid flat on your stomach with him pushing your legs open with his own. "Harder," he laughs, "sweet princess already cryin' but wants it harder~? Oh, don't worry~" He pins your wrists down to the either side of your head as he starts pummeling into you; his hips clapping against your ass each time he slams the weight of them down into you. Slow, rhythmic, and the fucking roughest you've ever got. He gives you time to feel the impact of his cock driving into you before he's pulling back out and doing it again.

"Daddy will pound you just how you like it, baby," he pants from above you, eyes wild as he watches you bury your face in the pillow; screaming with each of his brutal thrusts. "Nice and rough for my precious girl~"

"Ah!! Fuck! Fuck!" Comes your muffled, frazzled response. "M'gonna c-"

"Not yet." He growls with a particularly brutal slap of his hips. His bulbous tip stays buried deep, driving you crazy; trying to hump your hips back into him. He lets go of one of your wrists in favor of smacking your ass. The rough sting makes you wail, clenching around him and leaking all over your unmade bed. "I said not yet."

"Whyyyy?" You sob into the pillow, trembling beneath him with your orgasm just a few small drops of pleasure away from spilling over and consuming you.

"Because you're gonna scream my name first."

"Yunho!" You let it tumble out of your lips with not a second thought. "Yunie!"

He hums, pretending to think, "what about 'Daddy'? Try that one for me, doll."

"D-Daddy! Please, keep going!"

"Let me hear... 'Mister J'. You're so sweet when you call me that~"

He's taking maybe a little too much joy in teasing you. Holding your orgasm just out of reach while he coaxes out your tearful voice, grinding against you just enough to keep you hanging right there. Dangling you above the boiling hot ecstasy and keeping it just at your trembling fingertips.

"Ngh-" You swallow thickly, fisting the sheet tightly and kicking your feet in a small tantrum. "You jerk! Let me cum!"

His cock twitches heavily inside of you, a guttural groan bubbling up his throat as that fire he loves about you so much comes out and singes him even when he's fucking you into a pile of tears.

He pins your legs in place with his own, "say it, baby. And I'll let you cum. I'll make you cum as much as you want, my needy girl~"

"Mister J, please~" You moan so sweetly that he starts up his deep, soul shaking thrusts against immediately.

"Good girl~"

His simple praise makes you fall straight into the ecstasy he kept out of reach, a cry breaking off in your throat as you cum so hard that you blank for a few seconds; your entire body shaking like a leaf in the wind as he keeps you pinned to the bed.

"Fuuuuck, that's it, keep milking my cock just like that~" He sucks in a sharp breath as he pulls up your boneless body, letting your shoulders slump against the mattress while he lifts your hips and starts pulling you into his thrusts — going faster.

"Ah, ah, ahh!!" All you can do is moan, drooling into the sheets as your brain gets flooded with entirely too much pleasure for you to handle. "G-ah..." Any and all attempts you make towards forming words falls short, making him grin widely as he pounds into you.

"Poor princess~" He coos in a mix of mockery and comfort, making you drip. "So dumb on Daddy's cock that you can't even speak," his next words each come with a smack to your heated ass cheek, "so damn cute." The squeaks that leave your lips make him want to spank you more. Harder.

He has so much pent up energy. So much bottled up lust. He's been fantasizing about you for months. Fisting his cock while he thought of all the ways he wanted to absolutely wreck you and place you back together just for him.

And now that you're his — it's all coming out. Through his actions, and his words.

He can't help himself. Just like when you were grinding on his lap; all of his darkest thoughts come tumbling out before he can stop them as he holds back his orgasm. Because while his body might be ready to cum, his brain is still urging him to fuck you more. Until you can't breathe.

"Goddamn~" He starts with a pant as he feels your arousal drip down his balls, "you're so wet for me~ Making a damn mess, you needy doll~ Fuck... This messy little cunt is all mine, hmm? I'm the only one who will ever touch you, ain't that right?"

"Y-yeah!" You manage to get enough air in your overworked lungs to respond, slurring and panting more than he is as another wave of mind-numbing pleasure creeps up on you.

"Say it. I wanna hear you say it, princess. 'My pussy belongs to Joker', go on and scream it~" He pushes you back flat on the bed, his hands pressing down on the small of your back to keep you in place as he pounds into you as hard as he can — trying to fuck all of his pent up emotions right into you.

"M- ah! Joker! My p- oh, my god! I'm gonna cum! Please, I'm gonna cum! Don't stop- my pussy belongs to you, Joker! I belong to you! Fucking make me c-cum! Make me cum, Daddy!" You start rambling just as much him; goosebumps rising on your sweaty neck as he snakes a hand between your hips and the bed, squeezing your cunt again.

"Fuck- that's right, baby~" He moans loudly, right by your ear as he pounds you into the mattress. "You're mine. Every fucking part of you. Get to fuck you whenever I damn well want to."

He's panting, his entire body tingling, ears burning as they revel in the sound of your shaky cries of pleasure.

"Make my pretty girl scream for the whole world to hear~ Make them all watch while I fuck you until you're stupid, yeah? Oh, yeah~ You like that, doll?" He coos with a slight tremble in his voice as you start grinding clumsily into his possessive grip on your cunt. "You like it when Daddy tells you all the dirty things he's gonna do with you?"

A string of slurred agreements and begs is all you can muster up, teetering so precariously on the edge that it feels like you may as well be having one long orgasm.

"My perfect girl," he wraps his arm around your shoulders and holds you tightly, blanketing you entirely while he slows his thrusts enough to let you both breathe. When you start whining, urging him to keep going by wiggling your hips, he shushes you softly. "Shhh, none of that. I'm going to fuck you all morning long, okay? But you gotta let me slow down or I'm gonna cum. You even feel how good your pussy is milking me?"

You let out a soft whimper, shaking your head. "Aw~ Poor baby so fucked out she can't even feel her pussy? Just wants to keep cumming and cumming~"

"Uh-huh," you moan into the pillow, hissing from the slight stinging sensation as he pulls out of you slowly. "Noooo, where are you going?"

"Hey, it's okay, princess," he chuckles, "I'm not goin' anywhere. I just want to see you~ Can't let my pretty girls face be stuck in the bed all morning, right?"

"O-okay," you pant, blinking up at him with wide eyes as he turns you over gently.

"Shit," he whistles quietly as he scans you, his cock twitching in the air. He cups your face, manic grin on his lips, and strokes your cheeks with his thumbs. "I really am fucking ruining you, aren't I? Poor girl~"

"It- It's okay," you whisper as you lean into his tender touches, "I'll let you ruin me whenever you want... I like it."

He just about cums untouched as you speak those words. "Y-Yeah?"

"Mhm~ I belong to you, Daddy."

"Fuck-" He crashes his lips onto yours, smooshing your face in his hands. "That's right-" He says before quickly planting another kiss. "Damn fucking right~" He licks up your cheek, wild in his actions. "All mine-" A lick to your other cheek. "My perfect little doll," he smirks down at you, "I'm going to have so much fun with you, princess~ You don't even know~"

The next kiss he lands on your lips is hot. Burning with passion and all-consuming. You're so fuzzy headed from it — from everything — that it takes you a few moments to realize he's pulled away and slapped you.

It was light, testing the waters. Nowhere near as rough as he could be. But it makes your overstimulated cunt twitch nonetheless. "Open your mouth." You're still dazed, catching up to what's happening when he lands a soft slap to your other cheek. "Say 'ah', baby."

You swallow before you open up your mouth, but there's still strings of saliva as you roll out your tongue. "Ahhh~"

"There we go~" He coos as he straddles your hips, fisting his length slowly while he leans over you. "God, I can't wait to fuck this pretty little mouth~" He spits right onto your tongue, making you jump in surprise. He laughs airily, tracing your chest with his free hand as you look up at him in awe and shock. "You're so fucking adorable..." He hums as he looks down at you, stars in his eyes, before spitting again.

"Swallow it." He says, cupping your breast and giving it a squeeze. "Whenever I put something in your mouth, swallow it. Got it? Spit, cum- fucking swallow and open your mouth to show me what a good girl you are."

You're quick to bring your tongue back into your mouth and do as he says — swallow. With a soft moan, you take his spit down your throat before reopening your lips. "Ah?" You hum, searching for his approval.

And he gives it. His cheeks are flushed pink and he's got a shockingly fond smile on his lips. "You're a quick learner, baby~ Good job," the kiss he places on your forehead has you melting. Almost as much as his next words make your heart flutter, "most people would be running for the hills if they heard all the nasty things I wanted to do. But not you, doll... We're a match made in heaven~"

"Not me," you bite at your lip for a moment before you find the courage to ask, "will you tell me more?"

His eyes light up even more, looking up from your chest to meet your eyes. "Yeah?" He whispers, smirk overtaking his smile, "you want to hear what I thought about every night? C'mere-"

You yelp as he suddenly lifts you, wrapping his arms around you tightly and sliding you down on his length as he sits on the edge of your bed. "Ffffuck~" You shiver in his hold as he starts thrusting into you immediately.

"Look at me," he moans, cupping the back of your head and pressing his forehead to yours, "wanna see the look in your eyes when I tell you exactly what I want to do."

"I w- I wanna hear it all, Daddy," you whimper as his girth drags along your overworked g-spot.

"I want to cum inside all of your holes." He dives straight into the deep end, blurting out his fantasy with zero hesitation; eyes locked on yours as they widen slightly. "Your pretty little mouth, perfect fucking pussy-" His jaw tightens a bit as you start meeting his thrusts, "how many people been inside that ass of yours?"

"N-none."

His cock leaks with excitement inside of you, his grip on you tightening. "Fuck, baby- really?" When you nod against his head, he starts thrusting harder.

"Will y-you make it feel good?"

"Fucking christ, doll! You're making me crazy..." His eyes squeeze shut for a moment before they're right back on you, "of course. Of course, baby. I'm going to make your little ass feel so good~ You'll love it, won't you?"

"M'gonna cum-"

"Hold it." He growls, gripping the back of your neck. "I'm not done. I want you to hear about how I want to pin you to the floor and see how hard you'll fight-"

"Ca- holy shit! Can't- I can't hold it!"

He ignores you, slamming his hips up into you while running through his imagination, "I wanna know how much fire you've really got in you. See juuust how far you'll go to try and get away-"

"Yunie!"

"Maybe that's when I'll fuck you in the ass." His vulgar words make you squeeze your eyes shut to try and focus on holding off your impending orgasm. His slap to your cheek makes you open them again, hot tears streaming down your face and getting smeared by his palm. "Thinking about that gonna make you cum? Fuck- It's gonna make me cum~ I can just imagine the pretty cries you'll let out when you realize you can't get away. When I hold you down and make you cum so much you pass out- fuck, it's going to be beautiful~"

You're panting heavily, your entire body is hot, your cunt is tingling. His face is blurry behind your tears, but you can see how excited he is. You feel an unfamiliar twinge in the massive ball of pleasure building up inside of you. One you've only felt once before. "Oh- Fuck- I think m'gonna squirt-" Your words come out in a fast jumble, but he catches every single syllable.

"Do it, pretty girl~ You've earned it~"

"Oh, fuck! Thank you, Yunie, thank you!" You squeal, hugging his neck tightly and keeping your eyes on his until you physically can't — the force of your orgasm slamming into you so roughly that it sends your eyes straight back into your skull, eyelids fluttering shut as pure unadulterated ecstasy rushes through you.

"Fucking perfect..." His whisper of awe, his heart filled eyes as you squirt around him all goes unnoticed as you twitch and tremble in his tight hold.

"Yunho~" Your soft, pleasure drunken whine of his name pushes him off the edge — shoves him, hard. His brain takes over as it floods with dopamine and endorphins. He rolls you both over quickly, thrusting as deep as he can get while he pins you to the bed with his body; hugging your head to his chest.

"My princess. All fucking mine. Take it, take it, baby-" His voice breaks into a loud moan, a full body twitch running through him as he cums inside of you; filling you with warmth from the inside out.

You cling to him tightly: head buried away from the world in the comfort of his chest, sore legs spread wide for him, soft sniffs and whines meeting his pleasured hums.

"You're so good for me, love," his voice is almost a purr as he holds you tightly, "my precious doll. I'll never let you go."

"Y- You better not."

ꕥ

"Hey, pretty girl~ Needa' ride?"

The car pulls up right next you, music blasting.

Yunho smirks as he sees you instinctively reach for the knife he knows you keep in your jacket before you register that it's him; a grin making its way to your lips.

You lean your arms on the rolled down window, popping your gum. "Cash, grass, or ass?"

He simply chuckles, reaching over and opening up the door for you. "Come on, doll-face."

You slide into the car, leaning over the center to give him a kiss, "missed you, Mister J~" It's not even been twenty-four hours — more about ten. He had left late in the night after he got a text, saying he had to 'grab' something and that he'd pick you up in the morning.

So, here you are.

"Missed you back, baby," he hums, cupping the side of your neck to pull you into another quick, hot kiss. He hates to pull away, but he does anyway. It's a big day ahead; and he wants to get right on with it. "Buckle up."

"Ironic," you giggle as you pull on your seatbelt, the car already speeding, "don't think I've ever seen you wear your seatbelt."

"Hm," he pouts as he thinks, before shrugging with a laugh. "Probably not!"

You grab his cigarettes as he points to them, sliding one out carefully. "Where we off to, J?" You ask as you place it between his lips, leaning over to light it for him.

He takes a long inhale before blowing the smoke into the rushing cold air; the winter air whipping through the car. "Surprise~ Don't worry, you'll like it."

"How do you know?"

"I just do~ Call it a gut feeling." His hand finds its rightful place on your inner thigh, rubbing his thumb over your skin softly. "This skirt is pretty on you, wear it more for me~"

"Uh-huh, if you say s-" As he stops at a red light, the song happens to change at the same time; and something else reaches your ears. Muffled screaming and banging from the trunk. "Yunho?"

"What's up, princess?"

"Do you have someone in the trunk?"

"Yup~" He beams as he turns up the music, "don't mind him. It's not a long ride."

You stare at him for a moment. Clearly to ask 'what the fuck?' "Who's back there?"

"No one important," he tosses his cigarette butt out the window before rolling them up and turning the vent toward you. "You cold, baby?"

"A little bit- wait, wait! We aren't moving on that fast. The fuck is going on?"

"Don't you worry about that, love," he smiles over at you, "you trust me, right?"

You think, only for a split second. "Of course, Yunie."

ꕥ

The wear-house by the river clearly hasn't been in business for a long time. The only sign of life for miles is Yunho, running over to open the car door for you.

"C'mon, doll," he takes your hand, all but pulling you back to the trunk. "Are you ready?"

You don't really know. You have no idea what — who to expect when he opens the trunk. "Yeah, I guess so..." You trail off as he pushes it open, eyes going wide. "Holy shit." You whisper. "Holy shit!" You slap a hand over your mouth as you laugh; looking between him and the fearful man who's bound with tape in his trunk.

"You goddamn crazy fuck," you grab his neck and pull him down into a deep kiss. Mumbling into his lips as his hands find your waist, you find a wide smile spreading on your features, "you did this for me?"

"I'd do anything for you, doll~" He hums softly, reaching over without looking away from you and shoving the man back into the trunk as he tries to clumsily crawl out. "I told you that you'd have his heart in a gift basket, no~? I figured why have all the fun myself, I should let my girl have some, too."

In the trunk is none other than Earnest Holmes; the man who you hate more than anything. "This is the best gift I've ever received, Mister J~ How could I ever repay you?"

"Let me help you with whatever plans you've got running through that pretty little head~"

"Deal." You land another kiss to his lips before turning quickly, your pocket knife pulled in a second flat and the tip of it against Holmes' throat; making the man still.

"I bet you don't even remember me." He shakes his head violently. "No?" You press the sharp stainless steel into his skin, a single pinprick made in his neck. You don't want him dead just yet. "I'll give you a hint..."

Yunho leans over, joining you in crowding the terrified man; your shadows looming over him.

"My momma gave you that nasty scar on your back. She got you real good." You laugh as his eyes widen, "mhm~ Ringing a bell?"

Yunho rests a hand on the small of your back, the look in his eyes basically already gutting Holmes. If looks could kill, he'd be dead twice over. Once from you, and another from The Joker resurrecting him just to do it again himself.

"I'm going to do so much more than she did. I'm going to kill you. But not before Mister J and I have a fucking field day making you suffer."

The man yells behind the tape on his mouth as you twirl the knife before driving it straight into his thigh.

"Let's get him inside, baby," Yunho grins wildly, basking in the unbridled fire in your eyes as you look up at him, "we can take our time with this worm."

You yank your blade from Holmes' leg, staring down at the blood on the steel. You're usually queasy around gore. But now? You're thinking of all the ways you and Yunho can hurt him.

You appreciate that he hasn't asked just exactly what the man has done. Because if you tried to explain it at the moment, you'd end up stabbing Holmes more fatally. And he doesn't deserve a quick end.

You move out of the way, letting his blood drip off your knife; which you keep a death grip on — just incase you change your mind and decide that you want to stab him in the throat.

Yunho doesn't have any trouble yanking the man up, dropping him to the dirt with a glare. It softens when he looks to you, and it's back to pure hatred as he looks back down at Holmes. He doesn't know the details — but he doesn't have to. All he has to know is this man has harmed and disrespected you.

He scoffs at the mans sniveling, grabbing him by the ankles and dragging him through the dirt towards the warehouse. "Watch your head." He smirks as he pulls the man up the concrete steps, making his head thud against them.

You have a slight grin making its way back to your lips as you follow, running to pull the large sliding door open for him. "Well, thank you, baby~" He pecks your head as he passes, kicking the man in his injured leg as he tries to use his bound hands to grab at your ankles. "Hands off, fuck-face, or I'll cut them off."

You slide the door shut behind you as he pulls the man up and shoves him into the chair in the middle of the empty space. One look around the desolate building tells you that it's far from the first time The Joker has used it for this purpose. Between the blood stained wooden chair and the work desk of instruments of pain; this seems to be his second office.

By the time you've finished scanning the large, near empty room, Yunho has Holmes hand-cuffed to the arms of the chair.

You toss your knife onto the stained workbench, stalking over to them as Yunho leans back against the metal wall. "What you got planned, pretty girl?"

You grab the edge of the duct tape on Holmes' mouth, pulling it off slowly. "Let's hear him try to explain himself." Half-way across, you yank it; making him yell.

"You fucking bitch-"

Before Yunho can even jump to strangle the man for daring to insult you — you slap the man. Hard. Hard enough for it to snap his head to the side and for the sound to echo a few times.

"Do you think you're in any position to be insulting me?" You huff a laugh, "you should be begging for mercy, you worthless piece of shit." He's silent, looking at the floor. "You think you're too good for that? Hm..." You pout towards Yunho, sarcasm laced in your voice, "he thinks he's better than me, Mister J."

He pushes off the wall with a wild grin, "oh, that won't do~" Holmes groans as he yanks his head up by his hair, making the man face you. "Maybe, if you play nice," he whispers to him, "my girl will make it quick."

He knows that you won't. But Holmes doesn't.

"Listen..." He starts slowly, breaths shaky, "your mother-" He hesitates when you take a step forward. "Your mother... she was just- I d- Fuck, what do you want me to say!?"

"Tell me why you chose her."

Yunho yanks his hair again when he takes too longer to answer.

"Because she was pretty."

Your jaw tightens. "I've decided what I want to do first, Yunie."

"What's that, baby?"

"Do you know how to gouge someone's eyes out?"

He shoves the man's head as he lets go, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and showing you to the workbench. "I'll teach ya'."

ꕥ

You let out a soft sigh, leaning into Yunho's side after he wraps his long coat around your shoulder. "Thank you, Yunho..."

You're both sitting on the edge of the dock, legs dangling. It's only a few hours later, but it feels like a life time has passed. Some of the things you did — you didn't even know you were capable of.

"Anything for you, love."

And he's proved that. Absolutely anything for you. He had washed his hands in the river after carving out the heart of a man who had wronged you — there was probably nothing he wouldn't do.

It sits next to you in a wicker basket that he handed you with a kiss.

You had helped him roll the dead, weighed down man into the water and watched him sink with a feeling of cathartic release sinking down on you.

"He stalked my mother for three weeks." You start with a whisper, "and then he broke into our house. Killed my pops first when he tried to protect us. And... she tried to fight him off, stabbed him in the back. But it wasn't enough. Police said it was random- home invasion gone sideways. They didn't have any records of him stalking her because they said they couldn't do anything until he actually hurt her. What kind of ass backwards bullshit is that?"

He's angry for you. He could tell by the way you talked about it that it has been weighing on you for a long time. He sighs, rubbing your shoulder softly, "I'm sorry, baby. The world is an unfair place, we have to make our own justice... Do you feel better now that he's gone?"

"It doesn't change what he did. But... for some reason? I do."

"Good. He deserved every single thing we did to him and more. If there's a hell, I'll find him there and continue his punishment."

You chuckle quietly, leaning your head against his shoulder. "Maybe I do owe him a single thanks."

"Mh? What for?"

"After my parents passed, my aunt and uncle took me in. Hongjoong's parents. And when he opened The Riddle Room, he gave me a job there. And, in a fucked up kind of way, that lead me to you."

He breathes a small chuckle, "sentimental already, doll?"

"Oh, screw you," you laugh, shoving his shoulder with yours.

He pulls you closer to his side, smiling down at the water that now houses your first kill — right next to his.

ꕥ

"Yes, princess?" Yunho leans back, taking his lollipop stick out of his mouth to speak into the phone.

It's about a week later. A week of officially being his. And while he would absolutely love if it were the case — you don't spend every second by his side. He has business to attend to that he would rather not mix you up in, and you have your college work to focus on now that you've officially quit working for Riddler.

"Hey, Yunho," your frazzled voice makes his heart drop, "are you busy?"

"What's wrong? Where are you?" He asks quickly, chewing on the stick while waiting for your response; impatient.

"Uhm, I'm just at my apartment, but," you trail off for a moment, "sorry, is this a bad time? I can- I know you're working, I can call back later."

"No, it's okay. What's going on, doll?"

He's ready to drop everything for you.

"Some asshole ran into the gas pipe across the street and now my whole apartment building is turning into a damned freezer. I hate to ask but, uhm," you clear your throat. He can tell you're nervous even over the phone. "I don't really have anywhere else to go until it gets fixed, my aunt lives all the way in Arkham and Hong is still a little butthurt- the maintenance lady said it should only be a few days!"

"You can stay with me, baby," he doesn't even hesitate. Honestly, he's relieved it wasn't something worse. His mind immediately went to the worst case scenarios. What if Bullock was following you? What if someone saw you dump the body with him? What if one of his rivals h-

"Really?" Your elated voice rings from the speaker, "oh, thank you, Yunie! I promise I won't be trouble."

"Hm, why not? That's what I like about you, doll-face," he smiles as your chuckle comes through.

"Oh, shut up," you huff a laugh, "you gonna pick me up or should I come to your office?"

"I'll pick ya' up, pack whatever you need," he pulls the phone away to check the time, "I'll be there in an hour, try to stay warm, yeah?"

"Yeah- thank you so much, Mister J."

"You know I'll do anything for you, princess."

He slips his phone into his pocket and takes the lollipop stick back into the side of his mouth. "Sorry," he looks up to the gagged man who's currently tied up on the chair, "had to take that. You don't mind, right~?"

The man shivers as The Joker pulls his leather glove back on, picking up the pliers he had sat down to answer your call.

"Now, let's hurry this along. My girl needs me."

ꕥ

"So..." You trail off as you look around the apartment slowly. "This is the infamous Joker's home."

It's shockingly normal. Nice. Small and cozy. It's clear he doesn't spend a a lot of time here, but he still cares for it.

"Home sweet home," he chuckles as he unzips your large jacket, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your lips, "get comfy, baby-doll, I'll turn on the heat."

"Thank you, J," you cup his cheek softly as he goes to turn around, stopping him. "Really, thank you. I'd be freezing my ass off if not for you."

The way he absolutely melts into your touch doesn't go unnoticed. It never does — you always notice. You have since the beginning. Or, at least since you stopped being afraid of him. You realized he needs touch just as desperately as you.

"Well, we can't have that~" He jokes to break the intense staring contest, kissing your palm softly, "gotta take care of my girl."

"I'm gonna get spoiled if you keep this up-"

"Good." He shrugs, turning and disappearing deeper into the apartment, "my princess deserves only the best!"

You shake your head with a smile overtaking your lips, taking off your jacket and hanging it next to his coat. "How long have you lived in this part of the city?"

It's right in the middle of the upper and lower parts. Probably so he can get around quicker.

"Couple years," he calls back to you, joining you in the open living area; cigarette resting unlit in his lips. "How long you been in your neighborhood?"

"Couple years," you mimic him as you investigate the living room from your spot next to him.

He swipes up the lighter on his short coffee table and lights the cigarette as he falls onto the fabric couch. "Don't be so shy," he says before he inhales deeply, slumping as the nicotine fills his lungs. "What's mine is yours~"

You drop your bag on the floor and all but jump onto the couch next to him. He props his feet up on the table, his arm wrapping around your shoulder as you snuggle into his side; hugging his torso. "That's more like it," he laughs softly as you fold your legs under you.

Almost polar opposites in the way you sit — it's kind of amusing. He's spread out, taking up his space and leaning his head back against the cushion as he smokes. You're curled up on his side; in his space more than your own, head pressed to his chest as you listen to his deep inhalations.

"Did you have a good day at work?" You ask softly, knowing that he's not going to answer. He never does. But you always ask anyway.

"Hm," he toys with your hair softly, humming amused at your insistence of asking. He's not going to tell you that he spent the day sending a message to a rival drug dealer by torturing his runner. "How was your school work? How's my pretty genius gettin' along?"

You smile into his chest, pressing closer.

You suddenly don't mind that the gas heating in your apartment is broken. You like it here, with him.

ꕥ

"I can't believe you were serious." You set the stuffed animal back down on the corner of his bed, giggling as he pulls off your pants.

His bed is big and warm and so comfortable you find yourself wanting to never leave.

"I told you," he shrugs with a smile, "I like to snuggle."

"I guess you did, yeah, just a bit shocking." You smile back as he leans over, pecking your lips as he pulls the pajama bottoms he had gotten out of your bag over your legs.

"Why?" He asks between soft kisses left across your face, his hands sliding under your sweater to caress your waist.

Both of you now dressed warm and ready for bed, it's possibly the most cozy you've ever been as he hovers over you, peppering your skin in light smooches.

"You have a reputation, you know?" He leans into your touch as you reach up and push back his hair. "My Mister J~"

His face would probably be unreadable to anyone else. But, for some reason, you can see past his calm features — you can see into his mind through the smallest flicks of his eyes as he scans your face.

"Are you still afraid of me?"

He asks it so softly that you nearly miss it; like he's scared of the answer he might get. He doesn't need to be, though.

"Why would I be?"

He sits to straddle you, bringing his hands out from your sweater to find yours. Lacing your fingers together, he says, "I'm not a good man."

You wrap your fingers in his, never letting your eyes leave his. "You're good to me."

A smile tugs the corner of his lips. "I've killed."

"So have I." You tilt your head as you look up at him, "do you think I'd leave over something so trivial?"

He laughs at your choice of words, a short huff of amusement. Trivial. Like it doesn't matter. Like you don't mind the blood that stains his very being.

Looking down at you — he can tell it doesn't.

You're holding his hands despite their tainted nature.

"I'm not afraid of you. I bare my neck to you because I know you could kill me... but you choose not to."

You're getting blurry. His cheeks are wet.

Is there a leak —

You force one of your hands from his grasp and cup his cheek, wiping his tears. "Yunho-"

"I love you." It comes in a quick breath, like it was squeezed out of his throat. Like he doesn't want you to catch the confession.

But in the quiet of his bedroom, in the intimate moment; of course you do.

Your face softens, eyebrows pushing together slightly, pupils widening.

"I love you." Again, louder this time. "Please-" He leans over you, hiding his face in the crook of your shoulder, "you can't-" His brain isn't working properly. He's blinking rapidly, trying to rid the troublesome tears before he gives up and squeezes his eyes shut.

When was the last time he cried? It had to have been years. Not since he was a boy.

"I'm not going anywhere, Mister J," you whisper as he wraps his arms around you tightly; holding you like you'll disappear any second. "You can't get rid of me that easy~"

You smile as he chuckles quietly into your shoulder, rubbing up and down his back slowly. "Guess I'm stuck with you~" He jokes right back, his voice heavy with his tears.

It's definitely... strange to see the man who you once thought was nothing but chaos crumble like a house of cards as he leans into your touches. You can't find it in yourself to care, however.

He isn't The Joker right now. He's yours.

"Stay with me, baby..."

"Of course, Daddy."

ꕥ

You decide to flip the script on him in the morning whenever you find that you've woke up before him.

"Mh, Yunie?" You moan sleepily as he presses closer to you with a deep groan. You think he might be awake, the way he's pressing his hard-on into your behind while pulling your back more securely to his chest.

But when you turn in his arms, you find his peacefully sleeping face: his lips parted by his gentle breaths, his hoodie over his messy hair, completely content as he rests. Completely — besides the bulge in his sweatpants that he's still trying to press against you subconsciously; a soft whine in his throat when he can't find your ass.

You spend a second to look at him.

He strangely... pretty. The perfect mix of sharp features and round. Just like his personality. Well — towards you, at least.

"Babyyy," he groans in his sleep, you can see his eyes flicking slowly behind his lids.

He did it to you, so you may as well return the favor.

You carefully push him to his back, kicking the blankets off of you in the process, "I'll take care of you, Daddy." You whisper with a kiss to his jaw before crawling down.

You pull his sleep pants and boxers down past his hips, gulping as you get your first good look at his length.

You've never seen one that you would call mouthwatering. They do say never say never for a reason; because you are salivating at the sight of his hard inches.

No wonder he feels so good inside of you. He's just a little too thick for your fingers to wrap all the way around as you softly grasp his base. His tip is leaking, slightly flushed. The vein running down the side looks like it throbs ever so slightly. He has a freckle, near the tip.

His breath hitches as you kiss the freckle. You smile before you trace over the pronounced vein with the tip of your tongue. You catch a taste of his pre-cum and moan quietly, closing your eyes while you swirl your tongue around his head slowly.

The little sounds he's making are making you ridiculously wet for how early in the morning it must be.

You situate yourself a bit better, laying between his legs as he spreads them and bucks his hips subconsciously. With a hum, you lean back down and start kissing along his length; soft, opened mouth smooches echoing in the quiet apartment with his deep moans and whines.

His hand finds the top of your head as you wrap your lips around the head of his cock, just resting there heavily.

When he slowly opens his eyes a few moments later, he blinks up at the ceiling as his waking brain catches up to all of the pleasure that's coming from your warm mouth wrapped around the first inches of his painfully hard cock. He looks down quickly, meeting your eyes as you slowly pull away from his length.

"Good morning, Daddy-"

"Are you suckin' my dick?" His voice is raspy with sleep and pleasure; you can feel your panties stick to your lips with slickness.

"Mhm," you hum while kissing back down his length, chuckling as his head falls back to the pillow.

"Fuck, doll-" He huffs, biting his lip as you go even further down and kiss his balls. When you suck a bit, he hisses, pulling your head closer, "again."

You take one of the globes into your mouth, suckling tenderly and rolling your tongue along the taut skin. "God-" He slumps into the bed, bringing his arm over his eyes as he laughs airily.

You let go with a soft pop, licking up the underside of his length.

"Oh, you're gonna make me crazy, love," his chuckle makes your clit throb, and you almost want to give up on making him cum in your mouth when he looks down at you again. Eyelids heavy with sleep, pupils wide with lust, his chest rising and falling a bit quickly.

"You want me to stop, Daddy?"

His cock twitches next to your face, calling your attention. You slide your hand up the length with the help of your spit, making his eyes roll back from the slow motion. "I'll fucking choke you on my cock if you try to stop, pretty baby."

"Will you do it anyway?" You tease with a twist of your wrist while going back down his member.

"Open," he growls while gripping your head with both his hands, pushing you down toward him, "open wide, princess."

He shoves you down on his length until you gag — not even half way down but stuffing your mouth entirely. Your throat contracting around the very tip of his cock makes a loud moan spill past his lips; especially because it's paired with your warm hand working up and down on the rest of his length. "Goddamn, I could cum just like this~"

You grab onto his hip as he starts thrusting into the entrance to your throat, making you sputter and gag each time. "Mh~" His eyes flutter shut as he pulls you along his girth, your sounds and your messy spit making his heart race just as much as the heat of your tongue and the soft muscles of your throat trying to reject him.

You try to relax around his cock, but the feeling is so foreign that it forces you to pull away with a gasping breath, heaving as he laughs. "You okay, sweet girl?"

Your response is to start leaving sloppy kisses on his wet cock as you catch your breath, making his back arch slightly. "I might not be able to take you," you say with a pout as you look up, cradling his balls in your palm.

"Aw~" He coos as he pushes himself up, leaning to kiss your head, "yes, you will, doll. That's what training is for."

"You think so?" You ask innocently while you stroke his member quickly; filling the room with lewd shlicks.

He curses under his breath, eyebrows pinching together, "I'll make you take it, baby. I'll make it fit. Even if you pass out, if you can't talk for a few days — I'm going to make your throat fit me perfectly, just like I will to all of your little holes~"

"Shit-" It's your turn to curse, leaning up to kiss him as you continue with your smooth movements. "Do you promise?" You whisper against his lips, "promise you'll make me yours?"

"You already are."

You were his the moment he laid eyes on you. You just didn't know it yet.

He wraps his arms around you tightly, lifting you up into his lap as he sits on the edge of the bed; his cock twitching between you at the loss of your touch when you wrap your arms around his neck. "I am?"

"Don't you fucking doubt it, pretty girl~ You're mine. Every little piece of you: every bone in your body, every hair on your pretty little head, every smile and every tear. All of it belongs to me. Ain't that right, doll?"

You smile as you slide your hands down his chest, almost shy. "That's right, Mister J~" You yip a moan as he slaps your ass, smirking as he rubs the sore cheek through your pajamas.

"Mhm, good girl~ Hey, look at me," he pinches your chin delicately and tilts your head up to meet his gaze, "I'm yours. Just as much as you belong to me, I belong to you. Your name may as well be carved on my very soul. Tell me you understand."

"I understand, Yunie." And as strange as it might seem — you truly do. You've read stories of all-consuming love. Once in a lifetime meant to be type of love.

Yunho is yours. And you're his.

"We belong to each other," you grin as you let your hands trail down his stomach, watching his eyes flick across every inch of your face; committing each detail to memory before his eyes close as you wrap your hand around his cock again. Warm skin almost searing against the cooling spit as you jerk him off nice and slow.

"Ah~" He pants quietly, taking his lip between his teeth as he looks down, "fucking christ, baby..." He laughs from the back of his throat, fingers digging into your shoulders to stop himself from cumming. "Oh, oh, fuck- Your hand is so small around my cock, look at that~"

You press your heads together as you look down, watching your hand slide up and down on his slick length. "You're just so big, J~" You giggle with him, your free hand going to the back of his head and your fingers wrapping up in his hair now that his hoodie has fallen. "So big and pretty," you hum with a lick of your lips.

"F- you think I'm pretty?" He just about cums then and there when you say —

"The most handsome man in Gotham, cock included-"

"Get on your knees," he says quickly, spreading his legs and helping you fall to do exactly what he says. You push up your sleeves as he rids himself completely of his sweatpants and boxers. "You like my dick, princess?" He smirks as you nod up at him quickly. "Kiss it."

He leans his weight back on his hands, letting you take control as you dive back in with zero hesitation, kissing up his thigh quickly as you settle between his legs. A hum of approval rumbles in his throat as you kiss up his length — indecent, wet, smooches echoing in the sex-heavy air.

"Mhm~ Th- oh, that's it, love," his hands twitch in the messy blankets. He wants to grab you and skull fuck you so badly. But, he's also absolutely floating at the feeling of your lips all over him. "That's my girl," his sweet, pleasure soaked voice makes you whine quietly as your heat gains a heartbeat, "make out with Daddy's cock, show me how much you love it~"

You pant softly as you travel further down, back at his balls; sending a shiver up his spine as you start kitten licking them. "Fuck!" He brings a hand to his mouth, biting his finger as your hand starts giving his shaft attention while you lick and kiss below it.

"Oh," he pants a laugh, feeling his orgasm snowballing in his gut slowly, "I'm going to fuck you so hard you forget your own name~ Not gonna be a single thought in that pretty head of yours when I'm done with you... Fuck you right back to sleep, baby," his hand finds your head no matter how hard he tries to keep it to himself; his head rolling back as you take both of his balls into your mouth. "You want that? Want me to stick my cock in that cute little cunt while it's covered in your slobber?"

Your hum of agreement vibrates through him, making him gasp; the leaking pre-cum from his tip quickly worked into his length as you stroke him.

"Ah, yeah, you do~ My needy doll," he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, finding himself drooling from the sight of your blissfully closed eyes while you lap at the base of his cock; your hand faithful in its pace higher up. "Fuck... You're so pretty, baby."

The way he said it is so sweet compared to the absolute mess you're making on his member; your sloppy licks and kisses leaving him glistening with spit.

"Open your mouth." And the second you do, he's back inside of it. But instead of fucking back into your throat — he's pressing his tip into your cheek, making it bulge out and filling your face with heat even more than before when he reaches and cups it softly.

He doesn't take his eyes off of you, guiding your head with one hand on the back of your head and the other on your cheek. "My pretty girl~" His gentle slap to your puffy cheek makes both of you moan. "Shit-" He laughs, eyebrows raised slightly as he looks down at you, your hand sneaking into your bottoms, "aww, poor princess~"

He coos with a series of quick, light slaps, "you getting worked up, angel?" He pulls out of your mouth to let you answer, fisting his length roughly. You take in a gasp, rubbing your fingers along your slit faster as the new nickname soaks into your brain.

"M'so wet, Daddy..." You plead as you look up at him with unshed tears, "please- I wanted to make you cum in my mouth but I can't take it, I can't take it anymore, please fuck me?"

"Take your pants off. Let me see how wet you got from making out with my cock~"

You fall into your ass so quickly that he chuckles at your eagerness, pushing back his messy hair in his free hand as he slows his fist on his length. His ears start blushing after you shove your pants away and scramble back a bit before spreading your legs.

You're so fucking wet that the baby blue of your panties is near translucent where it clings to your pussy lips. Your fingers glide over the fabric easily as you circle your clit. "Please, Yunie?"

"Get up here before I fuck you on the floor."

You're on the bed before he even blinks, pulling your sweater off and leaving you in nothing but the soaked underwear. "How do you want me-"

"I'll put you how I want you, how about that?" He grins widely as he pulls you to the middle of the bed, throwing you onto your stomach, "put that pretty little ass in the air for me~"

You land with a moan, immediately pulling your knees up and arching your back; ass in the air just like he asked. "Hurryyy-" You yelp into the bed in surprise as he spanks you. Once, twice, and then his mouth is wrapped around the dripping center of your panties, making you wail, "Daddy!!"

"Hm?" He moans, sucking at your cunt through the fabric and making you cry into the sheets.

"Pu-" You huff, grabbing at his pillow as he all but nuzzles your desperate heat, "pleaseee, make me cum..."

"Ah," he nips your thigh, "since you asked so nicely~" He yanks your panties down, letting them rest around your knees as he impatiently laps at your hot slit.

"Oh, so good~" You slur at his raw movements, each lick and suck he makes filled to the brim with unbridled lust.

He smacks your ass at the same time he takes your clit between his lips, sucking harshly. "Ah! Gonna cum! D- don't stop!"

And of course, he'll be doing no such thing. When he nips at your bundle of nerves and lands another open palmed hit to your cheek, your hips stutter as you gush all over the bridge of his nose. "Ah, you son of a bitch! Oh, fuck! Fuuuck~"

There you go again, making his dick twitch with want as you curse at him; backing your cunt into his face as you work through your peak.

"Mmf~" You groan as you fall flat, face buried in his pillow and soaking it with tears, "s'good, Daddy..."

He crawls up, flipping you over with a smirk, "needy little doll, I barely got to eat you out~"

"M'sorry, you're so good at it," you hum dizzily, melting under his touch as his hand slides up your side.

"Aww, it's okay," he pecks your lips as he grabs the base of his cock, lining up with you, "I know my poor angel was so worked up~"

He slams into you, making your back arch and your jaw drop; eyes squeezing shut while your hands scramble for purchase. "Oh- my god!! Fucking fuck- fuck you, you fucker!" He laughs into your neck, kissing softly while giving your fluttering walls time to adjust. "Holy shit, Yunie..."

"Shhh," he pecks below your ear, licking up slowly until he takes the lobe between his teeth; feeling you clench around him. He tugs ever so slightly, making you gulp forcefully. "You like that, baby?"

"Yeah-" You let out a puffed breath, sniffling as he start to thrust slowly. And you can't help the squeak that comes either when he licks across your ear with his hot, flattened tongue. "More!"

Whether you mean more for your heated ear or gushing pussy — he gives it to you.

One of his hands finds your neck, squeezing and caressing as he makes out with your ear; the filthy noises literally right in your ear. The other grips your waist, keeping you still as he pounds his hips into yours rhythmically.

"Ngh~" You can only manage a few small, pathetic, sounds as his tip assaults your g-spot, "I lo- oh~"

His head perks up from beside you, hovering over you in a split second; hips never stilling. "What, doll?"

You grab onto his shoulders tightly, locking eyes with him even as tears blur your vision.

"I love y-you, Yunho."

He stuffs your mouth with his tongue the second you finish your sentence, hammering into you mercilessly as you squeal and suck at his tongue while he explores every inch he can reach.

Both of his hands find your neck, grounding you in place physically and mentally as he pounds you to another plane of existence. Fucking you like he hates your guts, he pulls back with stars in his eyes —

"Say it again."

"I l- I love you, Yunho!" You stutter out, sobbing below him from the rush of pleasure and emotional relief you've gotten from blurting out your feelings.

"Oh, I love you, princess," he moans as he cups your teary cheeks, rubbing under your eyes with his thumbs, gently — like he's not rearranging your insides. "I fucking love you. I'll go to the goddamn ends of t-the Earth for you. All you have to say-"

"Please, Daddy!!"

"That's right- ah, that's right, baby~ Shh, shhh," he smiles manically as you start hiccuping, throbbing and clenching around him, "I got you, shh, I got you... You just let yourself go, my dumb little angel~"

You cry loudly, pulling him down by his hoodie and burying your face in his shoulder, "m'g- uh!"

"I know, sweetie~ I know, feels so good, right?" He wraps his arms around your head, pausing briefly to hook one of his legs over yours for leverage before starting up his animalistic pace again. "You can cum, baby. You don't have to wait-"

"Ahh! Fuck you- thank you! Fuck, thank you!" You scream into his shoulder as your brain starts short circuiting, your legs trembling below his.

"Mh," he bites his lip, holding you close tightly as you convulse with your release; so much so that he has to pin you to the bed with his body so you'll stop jerking your hips over his member — which is dangerously close to cumming.

But he's not done making you cum and cry yet. "One more." He growls simply before resuming his movements, thrusting and grinding into you so deeply that you see stars. "Come here," he groans, pushing your head back to the bed with his hand around your neck, "open your mouth."

You drop your jaw with a shaky 'ah', rolling out your tongue. He spits right onto it, watching you with dark eyes as you quickly swallow it and put your tongue back out.

"Good girl, you remembered~" He squeezes your neck as he leans down, hips slowly slightly as he presses his tongue to yours and groans with satisfaction.

It's unclear if this is kissing, but it kind of feels like it. Your lips don't touch, but your tongues are all over each other as he rolls his hips into you.

His tongue slips away from yours, going up your heated cheek slowly and gathering up all of your salty tears. Your noises have him going deeper, rougher. Every sniffle and gasp and moan makes him try to thrust further into you and get more out of you.

"You gonna cum for me again, princess? Can you take it?"

"I d- uh! I dunno know," you shake your head with a loud whine, "f-fuck, feels too good!"

"You can take it~" He chuckles breathlessly, rubbing his thumbs on the sides of your throat while he chokes a broken moan out of you. "My girl can take it," he leaves a trail of kisses down your jaw, fingers tightening around your neck. "If you really want me to stop, slap the shit out of me, okay, baby?"

You only let out another whine, grabbing the sheets tightly.

"Hey." He slams his hips into you one more time, lodging himself deep and staying there as he slides his hands up and cups your face. "If you want me to stop, fucking slap me. That will tell me you really can't handle it. Okay?"

"Yes, Daddy," you whimper quietly as his cock twitches inside of you, his knuckles stroking your cheek softly.

"Say it back to me, I want to know you understand before we continue."

You lean into his touches, blinking your teary eyes to try and see him clearly, "if I want you to stop, I'll slap you."

"Good girl~" He pats your cheek softly before slapping you, his hips grinding into you again in the next second and knocking your brains hardwiring loose from the mix of stimulation. "Knew you could take more- this little pussy can't get enough of me, can it?"

He huffs a laugh as you gasp in response, forcing himself to pull out. There's so many positions he wants to try with you, he can't let himself stick to one.

You slump on the messy bed, panting to catch your breath as he pulls off his hoodie. "Fuck, angel," he chuckles, rubbing your trembling thighs softly, "you got me working up a sweat... come here~"

You don't have much choice as he pulls you down the bed until your hips hang off the edge, shaky feet planted on the floor. "Where are you goin'?" You pout as he stands, wiping your face as you look up at him.

"Nowhere at all, pretty girl~ I'm gonna stay right here and make you cum the rest of your brains out."

You breathe sharply as he plunges three of his fingers into your messy hole, curling them right into your g-spot. "Ohhh, fuck! Why, why, why- give me your cock, Daddy!"

"I don't want to cum yet," he hums nonchalantly, smirk growing on his lips as you press your legs together, shoving at his hand as you start sobbing all over again. "I want you to be completely stupid when I stuff you full of my cum."

"Yunie!!"

"Baby~" He mimics you, leaning one of his knees on the bed as he hovers over you, "you gonna be a good messy doll and squirt?"

"Ah! Ah! Please!"

"C'mon, love," he pins you to the bed by your throat, leaving your fidgeting useless, "one more for me, you can do it-"

"I can't! I can't! I c- cumming!"

He watches in a twisted awe as your jaw slacks and your eyes roll back into your head, your legs tensing up as you squirt with every thrust of his fingers. A broken whine leaves your throat as you droop into the bed, your feet hit the floor again with a thud. The splash as he pulls his fingers out makes you hide your face in your arms, sniveling as he licks his hand clean.

"One more."

You groan as he turns your boneless body onto your side, wailing as he slowly slips his member back into you. "Daddy! I al- I already did! That was one more!"

"Hm?" He pretends to think, bending over you and placing his hands on either side of you; admiring your side profile as he sinks balls deep into you. "No? I don't think I said that~"

"Y-you didn't? I though-"

"Shhh," he laughs softly, petting your head as you pout, "I did, princess. I did say that, I'm just playing with you~"

"You play meannn~ My brain isn't workin' right now," you bite your lip as he starts his thrusts slowly.

"Good," he lays his chest across your side, making sure your hands are free before he starts hammering into your over-sensitive cunt. "Then I can fill you up now~"

You slap at the bed, fist the sheets tightly, but you never come towards him — because the pinch of pain that comes with the mind-numbing pleasure is just as delicious. Even if your body doesn't seem to agree, trying to flatten yourself and get away.

"Where the f-fuck you think you're going?" He hums, wrapping an arm under your leg and gripping your thigh tightly; pulling you into his barbaric thrusts. "You said you wanted my cock, so just lay there and take it, sweet girl~"

You stutter out the start to ten different pleads at one, babbling nonsense as he digs into you with the all new angle. You grab at everything you can reach, eventually reaching one of the pillows and clutching it to your chest; hiding your face in it as you scream and cry. He's really, officially fucked your brains out and you are a-fucking-okay with it.

And so is he, dangling himself over the edge and slowing down whenever he gets too close to tumbling over because he still wants more. He wants to watch you hug his pillow as you shake with the overwhelming pleasure forever. But in the end, he's still just a mortal man and you still feel fucking heavenly as your walls tremble around him.

He pulls out for only the second it takes to shove you onto your back; already slipping back in as your head falls flat on the mattress. He pulls the pillow from your death grip and slots himself in your arms instead, letting you hold him tightly as he ruts into you. He wraps his arms under yours and grabs your shoulders, anchoring you in place.

"Poor baby, look at you~" He kisses up the tears that have slipped down to your neck. "Oh, god, look at you..." He says again, trailing off in a low moan. "You're so perfect."

You can barely recognize that he's speaking to you, head lolling side to side; feeling completely empty. "Daddyyy~" You manage to slur as you dig your nails into his back, your hips still turning this way and that to get way from his unrelenting thrusts.

"Mh- fuck! Stop s-squirming, pretty girl," he pants as he leans to your ear, "you ready to take my cum?"

"Yeah!" You huff out, voice dripping with tears and overwhelming ecstasy.

He doesn't have to say anything else, and he can't anyway — too busy gasping for air as his orgasm knocks it all out of his lungs.

Your soft whimpers are the only thing grounding him to Earth. His grip on your shoulder is so tight that it will undoubtedly bruise. His eyes are closed and rolled back, his jaw dropped and his heavy breaths meeting your neck.

"Fffffuck!" He whines with one last thrust, stilling deep inside of you with his warm release. "Good fucking hell, princess..."

He kisses your neck softly, sucking a deep mark as you sniffle and catch your breath, trembling below him.

"Shhh," he coos genuinely soft, rubbing your shoulders gingerly, "Daddy's got you."

"D-don't leave." You plead quietly, clinging to him like your life depends on it.

"Never, doll." He promises just as quietly, letting the air settle around you and letting you collect your brains, "I'll hold you until you're ready to let go."

"Never," you pout, squeezing him in your arms tighter.

"Not ever?" He chuckles fondly, slipping one of his hands to wipe your cheeks softly.

"Nope, you have to hold m-me forever."

"Not a problem, angel~"

ꕥ

A couple of hours genuinely felt like forever as you held each other, talking about everything and nothing all at once until you fell asleep.

Fucked back to sleep, just like he said he'd do.

Even as your breathing evens out to a slow, steady pace and your eyes close peacefully — he still holds you. You didn't say you were ready to let go. So, he stays right where he's at.

In nothing but his boxers, holding you; in nothing but his hoodie with it pulled over your head and shielding your face from the early afternoon sun that shines through the blinds and casts stripes of warmth across your near-naked bodies.

You sleep curled up on his side while he lays on his back, one arm securely around you at all times as he watches the birds on the fire escape.

Something is nagging the back of his mind, and he can't figure it out. He tries to ignore it, and just fully enjoy holding you. But —

His morning cigarette.

It hits him completely out of nowhere. He didn't smoke when he woke up, for obvious reasons. And even now, a couple of hours later; he still isn't craving one.

He looks down at you, your face hidden in his chest. "You little witch~" He giggles to himself, rubbing your back softly as you stir.

He has been smoking less and less with you around because you started to pout about the health of his lungs. But to not even have a craving? He hasn't been craving free for years.

Even with every technique he's used. Snapping a rubber band when he has a craving, not keeping his cigarettes in reach, keeping his hands busy — lollipops and gum was the closest thing that got his mind off of it. Only for a few minutes, though.

Never hours.

Never filling him with a satisfaction deep in his bones.

Never like you.

"Yunie?"

"Hey, baby," he smiles softly, looking over you slowly as you lift your head, "good nap?"

"Mhm," you smile back, groaning as you lean up and peck his cheek.

"You hurtin'?" He helps you sit up slowly, rubbing your lower back.

"Yeah, you fuck like a mad-man."

"Weeeell-"

"I heard it when I said it," you shove his shoulder with a laugh, eyes shining as you look up at him. "Gimme a kiss."

"Oh, yes, ma'am," he jokes, but he leans down as he stands and he kisses you, just like you asked.

"Another?"

And he gives it to you, lifting you off of the bed gently and holding the back of your thighs as you wrap your legs around him.

"One more?"

You get it as he sits you on the bathroom counter carefully, chucking into your lips.

"One more," you grab his wrist and tug him back when he goes to turn on the shower.

"I just gave you one more~"

"Nuh-uh~"

"Nuh-uh?" He grins, cupping your cheeks and pecking your lips repeatedly while you laugh softly. "Is that enough 'one more's, pretty girl?"

"I'll take 'em~"

You let him go to the shower, watching him with a smile stuck on your lips. "I love you, Yunho."

His back straightens out, eyes slightly wide; like he's forgotten you admitted it while he was ruining you earlier.

"I meant it when I said it earlier, I don't want you to think I just- cause the heat of the moment, y'know? I really do love y-"

"You stop talking before I get hard again." He cuts you off with a blush on his cheeks, looking away to check the temperature of the water. "C'mere," he has a smile just a permanent on his face as you do while he pulls the hoodie off of you. "I love you," he says with a kiss to your head, "don't say it like that unless you want me to fuck your sore cunt, though."

"Like what?"

"All soft and shit."

You laugh as he helps you into the shower, holding your arm as you step in before ridding himself of his boxers and joining you.

"Should I say it meanly, then?"

"God, that's even worse. I love it when you're mean." He caresses your sides softly, letting the water run down your aching back.

"You perv~" You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him to you as he moans dramatically.

"Oh, I'm hard~"

"Shut up," you smile widely, crashing your lips into his. Both of your eyes fall shut, moving together in tandem.

He towers over you, leaning down to meet you without forcing you to be on your toes. He guides you by your hips until your back hits the cold tiles, making you gasp.

You moan around his tongue, kitten licking against it as he laps at everything he can reach until you both run out of air. He places his forehead to yours gently, "thank you, doll."

"Hm?" The water runs down his jaw and drips onto your chest. "What for?"

"Being mine."

ꕥ

Three days later, your heat is still broken and you're still staying at Yunho's apartment.

As you make your way up the vast stairwell after getting his mail; you notice it.

The shadow that comes up the stairs, turning the corners right after you do.

You slow down, and their footsteps echo for a moment before they do as well.

You go to grab your knife from your pocket — only to realize you don't have it. You don't have anything. You're in nothing but one of his large hoodies and a pair of pajama pants, your sneakers pulled on lazily.

You stop completely; so does your stalker.

You pull your sneakers over your heels quickly, glancing down the stairwell and only seeing their shadow against the wall. Can't even be bothered to hide all the way?

It's much too short to be The Joker.

You pull the hood over your head, covering your hair and tying the strings in a tight bow. Less to grab, the better.

Yunho should be coming home soon. If you can't scare off your stalker, he certainly will — he'll do much more than scare them.

"Are you stupid?" You call down loudly, your voice bouncing on the walls and down the long drop down the middle of the stairs.

The shadow doesn't move.

"Hey! Jackass! I know you're following me!"

It takes a few seconds for the person to speak. "...I don't want to hurt you."

It's a man, a younger one.

"So stalking is just a fun way to pass the time?"

He takes the remaining steps to turn the corner, and you drop the mail onto the floor with a dramatic sigh.

He's much too buff for you to fight off on your own.

"I just need your help with something. It's in your best interest to comply. I don't want to hurt you, but I can."

"Out with it then." You lean your shoulders on the wall, face to face with him as he ascends the stairs slowly.

"I need you to call The Joker."

You raise your eyebrows, "mh? What makes you think I know him?"

"You've been his gal-pal for a couple months now." He stops on the same flat landing as you, a few good inches away. An arm, or a legs length away. "I saw him leave. Call him back."

"Sorry, I'm not his assistant-"

Your sass earns you a gun to your face, staring down the barrel of it with a blank face even as your heart thuds.

"Call him back."

"I don't have my phone."

When he reaches to grab your shoulder, you kick him in the stomach; shoving him down the stairs and running before he gets the chance to get back up.

"Get back here!"

He's up and his footsteps are booming behind you much faster than you'd like. But then, he does look at least semi-professional. He's probably here to kill or at least threaten Yunho — and you happen to be his best bet at getting what he wants.

He grabs the hoodie, and it yanks you to a stop; but thankfully it protects your scalp from his grasp. "Fucking should have seen it coming," he groans as he drags your stumbling figure up the last set of stairs to the floor Yunho lives on, "of course Joker's bitch is feisty."

He seems to know exactly which door, pulling you right to it as you try to get out of the hoodie without falling flat on your face.

You're a bit too late, slipping out of it just as he throws you into the small entrance hallway. You scramble up as he puts the chain lock and the deadbolt on; racing mind trying to think of a game plan.

You can't do much without risking getting a bullet in the process. You need to be alive for him to use you as bait — but you can survive a shot to the leg or arm.

"Let's try again... Call The Joker."

ꕥ

"Yes, doll?" he answers the phone as calm as ever, leaning his head on his hand as he sits at his desk; business partner sitting across from him, on his own phone with a slightly annoyed look.

"Yunie..."

He shoots up out of his chair, letting it clatter to the floor. Your voice is tense and full of unshed tears. He's out the door before the man in his office even notices he'd gotten up.

He knows deep in his gut that something is wrong.

"I need you to come home. I think- think I'm sick."

"Am I on speaker phone?" He asks quickly as he gets into his car.

"No, I'm okay... I ju- I just need you to be here."

Bullshit. You are far from okay. But you do need him to be there.

People are honking at him as he weaves his way into traffic. "Is someone there, baby?"

"Mhm."

"Did they hurt you?" He'll kill them. If the answer is yes or if it's no; he'll kill them either way.

"Just a little-" You get cut off by a hushed whisper. He's tries to listen, but it's all in vain. The person is too far away from the microphone. You clear your throat, "will you come home?"

"I'm on the way. Try to get them to the living room."

"M'kay... See you soon."

ꕥ

"My hands are getting numb." You deadpan from your place on the couch, sitting with your back against it and your feet up on the table. "Can't you loosen-"

"No."

He tied your wrists together with some rope, and it was tight enough to be chaffing your skin with every attempt you made to loosen it.

"...Well, fuck you too then."

"Are you always this mouthy?" He groans from the chair he'd placed facing the front door, ready to shoot The Joker the second it opens. With every second that passes, you're more and more afraid that that will be the outcome.

Your throat is dry and your stomach is in knots.

"Most the time, yeah."

A soft clink catches your attention. It sounds like it came from the bedroom behind you.

You tilt your head over the back of the couch — and your eyes light up as you meet Yunho's dark gaze while he crawls in through the window by the fire escape.

He slips in as silent as a mouse, pulling a knife from his back pocket as he stands. With a metal finger to his lips, he approaches.

You look back to the intruder with relief on your face. His back is still turned as Yunho makes his way into the apartment quietly. He stops briefly to give you a once over, ruffling your head before continuing on to the man.

"Ahem."

The man jumps, gun aimed — but quickly knocked out of his grasps when Yunho slams the butt of his knife into his hand.

"Fucking stupid jackass," Yunho groans as he grabs the man by the hair, knife to his throat and eyes daring him to move. "Do you think you're going to get out of here alive after what you've done? Do you think I won't gut you like a fucking fish?! Breaking into my home? Threatening my girl?!"

He shakes his head quickly, making The Joker scoff. "Coward on top of being an idiot, how did you make it this far in life?"

He drags the man over to your tensely seated form by his hair, forcing him to kneel. "Beg."

"W-what?"

"Beg for her forgiveness. Make it convincing enough and I'll make your death quick." He can sense the man's hesitation, which is fair — because he's lying through his teeth. "Scouts honor~"

"Please, Joker, this was just a job! Your girl was never gonna get h-" He gets his head slammed into the armrest for his troubles.

"I said beg for her forgiveness. There's no need to beg me, it won't get you anywhere. She's the one you've disrespected, look at her!" Yunho yells right in the man's face, yanking his hair again as they both look at you.

You seem almost unfazed by the situation, but your heart is beating wildly. You've never seen Joker so angry. He was calm and collected when he was showing you all of the ways he knew how to make a man scream. The run-in with the detective might come close, but you didn't hear anything he had said.

Now, though, he may as well have steam coming from his ears, "look at her! Tied up in the safety of her own home-" You catch onto that, but he doesn't; too lost in his rage. "Did he hurt you, princess?"

The way he goes from absolutely livid to soft as cotton when speaking to you makes your heart flutter. "Not bad. My wrists are bleeding a bit..."

"Poor baby, c'mere." He shoves the man to the floor and steps on his chest, making him wheeze. "We need to wrap you up when we're done here, don't let me forget."

He does another once over of you as you stand up and hold your wrists towards him. "He didn't touch you, angel?"

"No." You shake your head quickly, sighing with relief as he carefully cuts the ropes.

"Hmph," he pouts as he holds your hand gently, turning your arm to get a better look. "One thing this idiot did right, I guess. He can die with his dick still attached to his body."

"Joke-"

"Shut up!" Both of you yell down at the man before going back to looking at one another softly.

"How did he get in?" Yunho presses more of his weight on the man as he struggles.

"Caught him following me up the stairs, drug me up here after I pushed him down a flight-"

He holds a finger towards you to tell you to wait and kicks the man across the face. "Would you stop fucking fidgeting, asshole? I'm trying to listen to her! Go on, love."

"He was watchin' us. He said he saw you leave. He-" You sneer, glaring down at him, "he called me a bitch."

"A bitch?" Yunho looks down at the shivering man, almost laughing. Either this man is the stupidest man in Gotham or he was hired by the person with that title. Sending such an unprofessional after The fucking Joker. "You called her a bitch?"

"No- no, no, no!" He tries to deny it, getting a kick; this time from you, to his leg.

"Liar."

"No, I sw-"

"So you're calling her a liar, then?" Yunho replaces his foot with his knee, leaning over the man and dragging his blade against his cheek. "My sweet girl would never lie. Right?" He looks over his shoulder to you with a manic, dark smile.

"Never, Mister J."

"See?" He twirls the knife to get a better grip before driving it into the man's shoulder, making him yell. "I told you." The blood spurts onto his suit as he yanks it out.

You hover over the both of them, jaw tight.

"You said it was a job," Yunho says evenly, like the man isn't writhing beneath him and bleeding all over the floor, "who hired your sorry ass?"

"Falcone-"

"Ugh!" Yunho rolls his eyes dramatically, "seriously? That fucking guy is back?"

"He wants-"

"I know what he wants. He isn't going to get it. Especially not if he keeps sending dimwits like you after me. Baby?" He turns to you, making you perk up.

"Yes?"

"How do you think we should send a message that says 'fuck off'?"

"We could..." You hum, coming up behind him and looking down at the man's begging eyes as you place your hands on Yunho's shoulders; relaxing him ever so slightly. "Carve it into him?"

"Wait-"

"That's a great idea, doll! Here, hold this." You take the knife without a second thought, backing up while he yanks the man up quickly. "You won't be alive for it, don't worry," he chuckles as he slams the man to the wall; banging his head against it and making him too dizzy to fight. "Just know," he smiles darkly as he reaches his hand out. You place the knife in his open palm, skipping over and looking around his arm.

"You had this coming. Nobody gets to touch her, so-" He shoves the blade into the man's stomach, "nothing too personal. No hard feelings, right?"

By the time the man recovers from the slam to his head, he's already half dead. The Jokers blade jabbing his torso too many times to count. But if someone were to do so, it would be around stab number 16 that he started laughing.

Quietly, at first. Then it's full fits of chuckles. Then, pure manic laughter. The last sound that anyone killed by the man has heard. His mocking, gleeful sounds as their life force bleeds away.

You look away from the carnage, instead looking up at Yunho. His lips stretched wide with his cackles, crinkles in the corners of his eyes.

He's fucking crazy.

And you smile at him.

When the man becomes nothing but dead weight, Yunho finally steps back; panting softly as he watches the body slump to the floor. He covers his mouth another giggle slips up his throat, peeking over his arm at you.

"Yunho?"

He hesitates for a second. "Yes?"

"Have you ever fucked in front of a dead body?"

"...No?"

"You want to?"

You're fucking crazy.

And he smiles at you.

"Absolutely."

ꕥ

【jokers♱】 @mentallyunpresent @fireseo @beomkyum @spicyhotteokkay @vinylphwoar @ramadiiiisme @m00njinnie @love--in-stayville @xoenhalover @roxhanah @zeilixir @aurorasjoongie @palchokitty

₊‧⁺stardust˖⋆ @sousydive @sunnysidesins @onyxmango @devilzliaison @ateezswonderland @queenofdumbfuckery @emilysecresy

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vibelladonna · 3 months ago

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✑ 𝓁𝓊𝓈𝒸𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝜗𝜚 𝓉𝓀𝒶𝓉𝒷 𝓂𝑒𝓃

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: The TKATB men are so into people of all sizes, and honestly, it’s kinda refreshing to think about how each of them would be low-key obsessed with their partner’s body, but in a way that totally fits their vibe. Like, I can so see it—each of them having their own quirky, unique way of being all about it...

But in their weird, lovable ways ! !

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions.

Honestly, it’s just too cute how they’d love and appreciate their partner no matter what! But ngl, I was a little nervous writing and posting this because, like, I kinda have body issues myself, and this is such a touchy topic. I honestly have no idea how my dearest readers are gonna feel about it, so just consider this your warning!

[ 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ]

✑ 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

Crow’s the type to compare you to the stars and gods before you even get a chance to complain.

You shuffled around your room, digging through your clothes for something cute but effortless.

You and Crowe didn’t need a reason to go out—any excuse to be together worked. Tonight, it was just a quiet evening under the stars, the kind of night that made the world feel a little more intimate, where it was just the two of you, no pressure.

Truth be told, the date was more of an excuse to hang out, but with Crowe around, even the simplest plans felt like an adventure—whether it was a quiet walk in the park or something a little more exciting.

Crowe leaned against the doorframe, arms casually crossed, his eyes following every movement you made as you sifted through your wardrobe. He had this look on his face—a quiet admiration, the kind that made your pulse quicken and your cheeks flush, even after all this time. Like there was something about the way he looked at you, like you were the most captivating thing in the room, and it made everything inside you feel just a little bit lighter.

"Hey," Crowe’s voice broke through your thoughts, smooth and warm, the kind that made your heart skip a beat. "You look absolutely stunning today."

You glanced over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow with an amused grin. "Crowe, I’ve been wearing this all day. Are you seriously still going to compliment me like I’m some cover model?"

His smile widened, that mischievous gleam never leaving his deep blue eyes. "Well, if you were in a magazine, it’d be the one everyone’s been dying to read. Trust me, dearest, you always look like a million bucks."

You laughed, rolling your eyes.

It was ridiculous how easy it was for him to get under your skin in the best way possible. "You’re soooo impossible, you know that?"

Crowe just shrugged, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "Impossible? Maybe. But you love it."

He pushed off from the doorframe and strolled into the room, his presence filling the space with ease. His gaze never left you as he leaned against the dresser, arms folding casually.

You noticed how he was always so effortlessly cool—never rushing, never anxious, just... there.

So certain of himself, yet always so attuned to you.

"Seriously though, for me,” You started, voice lowering just a little, that familiar warmth in it, “Personally for me, I can’t get over how you move. Like... the way your hips sway when you walk? The whole room might as well stop for a moment. You know that, right?" You joked. No, you not because you swear Crowe can be a damn model himself if he wanted to, he’s simply so pretty to look at, fuck.

A laugh bubbled up in his chest, though he tried to hide it with a dismissive wave. "Oh, stop it. Who’s gonna believe you? You’re trying to take my charmer side anyway. You’d have anyone eating out of the palm of your hand if you tried hard enough."

Crowe’s eyes softened, and there was a flicker of something deeper in his gaze. It only lasted for a second, but it was enough to make you pause. He took a step closer, his fingers brushing against your arm as he gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The touch lingered just a beat longer than necessary, and your breath caught in your throat.

"Maybe," he said quietly, his voice more sincere than you expected, "maybe they’re all just intimidated by how amazing you are. But you don’t need to worry about that. I’ve got your back. Always."

The words hit you harder than you anticipated.

For someone who didn’t ask for help, Crowe had a way of offering it without hesitation. You couldn’t help but feel a little lighter in his presence like all the weight you carried was a little easier to bear when he was around.

"Why do you never ask for help, Crowe?" you blurted out, the question slipping before you could stop it. "You do everything for everyone else, but when it comes to you… it’s like you don’t want anyone to see you need anything."

Crowe let out a soft chuckle, his usual teasing smile curling up at the corners of his lips. "What can I say? I’m your knight in shining armor. I’m here to protect you, not the other way around."

You shook your head, affection flooding your chest despite his teasing. "You're not just a knight, Crowe. You’re my savior," you whispered, meeting his gaze with a look that felt a little too intense. "But that doesn’t mean you have to carry everything on your own."

He leaned in just slightly, his playful grin slipping into something more tender. "I know, I know. I just don’t want to burden you with my stuff. Besides..." He stepped closer, the air between you two thick with that warm energy he always carried. "I don’t mind being the one to take care of you. Who wouldn’t want to look after the most amazing person in the room?"

You blinked up at him, about to respond, but his gaze shifted. "Hey," he said, his tone suddenly more serious. "What's going on? You’ve been quiet for a bit."

You sighed, shrugging.

"I dunno, just… I’ve been feeling off. About my body, I guess."

Crowe’s brow furrowed, instantly on alert. "What? What’s wrong with your body?" His voice had this sharp concern in it that only made your stomach flip, though you tried to push it away.

"Just... not feeling my best," you muttered, clearly frustrated.

The second the words left your mouth, Crowe’s eyes lit up with pure determination. He took a step back, scanning you like you were the most captivating thing he’d ever seen, his gaze never leaving you.

"Okay, hold on," he said, taking a dramatic breath like he was about to drop the most epic revelation of the century. "Do you hear yourself? You—" He paused, eyes sparkling as if he were about to tell you a secret that would change your life.

"You’re like... a celestial being of pure power and grace. Honestly, I’m pretty sure Anubis would be jealous. Or like... every celestial god ever, really. You’re out here walking into a room and making time stop, love.”

He flung his arms out dramatically as though trying to capture your essence in the air. "The way you move? It's like you're in an art gallery, and the world is your canvas. Like, are you sure you’re not secretly a god in disguise? 'Cause I'm starting to believe it."

You blinked at him, struggling not to burst out laughing, a rush of warmth in your chest.

"Crowe, you are so over the top."

He sighed dramatically, shaking his head as though you were the one being ridiculous. "And you’re really gonna argue with me on this? Have you even seen how perfectly you fit in my arms? I’m the lucky one here. I get to hold you.” He said.

“You’re the definition of perfection. There’s no one like you."

Crowe’s voice was low, almost hypnotic, as his hand brushed across your side, his fingers tracing along your waist in a way that made your skin prickle.

You gave him a soft smile, but inside, you were fighting the urge to blush, to get all sentimental. Instead, you turned back to your closet, trying to keep things casual.

"Well, if you're gonna keep looking at me like that, I’m never gonna finish getting dressed," you said, trying to sound unbothered. "We’ve got a date night to get to, remember?"

Crowe chuckled, stepping closer, his hand lingering on your arm before sliding down to your hip. "Right, right. How could I forget? The stars, your company... it’s literally the best combination."

You turned to face him, giving him a pointed look.

“Keep it in your pants, Crowe.”

His smile? Immediate. Unrepentant.

That look in his eye practically screamed ‘I heard what you said and I’m choosing violence anyway.’ He leaned against the doorframe like he was posing for a fantasy romance cover, smirking with the confidence of a man who absolutely should not be trusted near you.

“Oh, I’d gladly take you down under the stars,” he said, voice smooth as silk and twice as dangerous. “You and me, the moonlight, a blanket, zero regrets. It would be perfect.”

You deadpanned. And then you launched the nearest pillow at his smug face with all the grace of divine judgment. Sins begone.

Of course, because he was Crowe, he dodged it with annoying precision, laughing like you’d just confessed your undying love rather than threatened him with soft furniture.

“Seriously?” you muttered. “You were literally raised by etiquette textbooks. How are you still this—this?”

He waggled his eyebrows. “Sinful? Irresistible? Blessed by the stars and burdened with unholy charm?”

“Unholy something,” you mumbled.

Crowe placed a hand over his heart like you’d just stabbed him—dramatically, of course. “You wound me. I’m simply a man in awe of a goddess.”

You sighed, dragging a hand down your face. “You’re so extra.”

He leaned in slightly, voice dropping just enough to be dangerous again. “Yeah, but you love it.”

You groaned like your soul was trying to leave your body, and he took that as a yes, the audacity radiating off him like heat off asphalt. With a wink and a mock salute, he opened the door—pausing dramatically in the doorway, because of course he did.

“Now, please hurry. We’re getting you out there like the celestial deity you are.”

And just like that, your infuriating, charming disaster of a man disappeared down the hallway, probably to go flirt with the moon or compose love sonnets in your name.

You couldn’t even be mad. He really did have a loving heart… buried somewhere underneath the twenty layers of dramatic flair, star metaphors, and relentless flirtation.

Ugh, Crowe knows how to work his charm with those words.

I’ll never forget my first love, I missed writing him.

✑ 𝓈𝑜𝓁

Sol’s the type who can see every curve of you effortlessly.

Sol stood back, his brush poised in the air as he looked at the canvas in front of him, deep in thought.

The faint hum of the radio playing some emo-ass music added an artistic charm to the atmosphere. He was always so serious about his art, and you loved how passionate he could get when he was working on something.

"Hey," he finally spoke, his voice soft but filled with curiosity, "I need your help with something... and it’s a little out of the ordinary."

You looked up, a bit confused. "What do you need help with?"

He hesitated for a moment, eyes flickering between you and the canvas. "I want to paint you," he said, gesturing toward the canvas with a flick of his brush. "But not just any regular painting... I want to cover your body in paint. Think of it like... a living piece of art."

You blinked, trying to process what he meant. "Wait, like... actually painting my body? You want me to stand still while you paint me?"

Sol gave a shy, almost embarrassed smile, his green streaks shifting slightly as he adjusted his half-up-half-down hair. "Yeah, I know it’s a bit unconventional, but... I think it’ll be beautiful. The way the paint will move with your body... it’ll be like... history in motion." He hesitated again, as if second-guessing himself. "If you’re comfortable with it, of course."

You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the quiet passion for his art, and how much he valued your trust in him. You took a deep breath, trying to hold back the nervousness creeping up your spine. "Okay, Sol, let’s do it. Just... no weird historical poses, all right?"

He chuckled softly, his crimson-red eyes lighting up. "I promise, no Renaissance art poses... unless you want me to," he teased, giving you a playful wink.

You laughed, the tension in your shoulders easing. "All right, all right, I’ll trust you with this. But you better make me look like a masterpiece."

Sol moved around you, his movements fluid and focused, as he carefully applied the paint to your skin. The quiet hum of classical music filled the room, but his presence—his calm, steady presence—was what made everything feel still and serene.

You stood there, wrapped in a moment that felt intimate in a way you hadn't anticipated. It wasn’t just about the painting; it was about the way he made you feel: seen, appreciated, cherished.

But as you stood there, exposed and vulnerable in front of him, a nagging thought crept into your mind.

What if you’re not good enough?

You shifted uncomfortably, your thoughts turning inward as Sol’s brush strokes continued.

What if your body isn’t the kind of art he deserves to paint?

You began to pick apart every little imperfection, feeling the weight of your insecurities pressing in.

Sol paused, sensing the change in your energy. He tilted his head slightly, studying you with those intense, almost ethereal eyes—one orange, one color—and then gently placed his brush down. He took a slow step closer, his gaze never leaving you. His hand, warm and soft, found its way to your waist, the touch small but grounding.

"Hey," he said, his voice thoughtful, a slight warmth in it that only seemed to intensify the affection he always had for you. "I can tell what you're thinking. But listen to me, all right?" He took a breath, his expression softening even more.

"You’re... beautiful, in ways that can’t be captured by any brush or canvas. Not even the greatest painters could do justice to how... real you are."

His hand slid up your side, just a simple, reassuring gesture, but the warmth of it wrapped around you like a blanket. You opened your mouth to protest, but he shook his head gently, his fingers brushing your skin in a way that made you stop.

"You remind me of something... a quote from one of my favorite writers," Sol murmured, his voice just above a whisper. "Edgar Allan Poe once wrote, 'Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears.'"

You met his gaze, a flicker of confusion in your eyes.

Sol’s lips curled into a small smile, and his hand cupped your chin gently, guiding your face up to meet his gaze fully.

"He meant that real beauty isn’t just about what you see, but how it makes you feel. How it moves you. And you, in your own way, are the kind of beauty that excites the soul—makes it feel something deep."

The quiet sincerity in Sol’s voice caught you off guard, his usual playful demeanor nowhere to be found. It wasn’t the loud, dramatic show of affection you’d expect from him—it was deeper, more subtle. So much deeper, in fact, that it almost took your breath away.

Sol was always ready with a quip or some teasing remark, his sense of humor a shield against vulnerability. But in this moment, he didn’t need humor. He didn’t need to hide behind sarcasm or wit. His love, his admiration, was felt in the smallest gestures: the way his fingers brushed the side of your waist, the way he leaned just a little bit closer during moments of silence, and the way his eyes never seemed to stray from you when you were together.

“You’re perfect just the way you are,” he whispered, his voice warm, and surprisingly serious. His hand traced the curve of your waist slowly as if memorizing the feel of you under his touch. "Nothing about you needs to change, not a thing."

You blinked, caught off guard by the weight of his words.

There was no teasing, no lighthearted comment to follow.

Just a simple truth that settled in your chest, easing the tension you didn’t even know was there.

"You don’t need to be anything else," Sol added softly, his voice so low it was almost a murmur.

"You already are such a wonderful masterpiece."

You stood there, stunned for a moment. His fingers lingered on you like a quiet promise, and your insecurities—the ones that had been gnawing at you all day—seemed to melt away.

There was no need for you to hide or change.

In his eyes, you were enough. Perfect.

As he took a step back, his eyes moved over you again, but this time, it wasn’t the eyes of an artist, studying a piece of work. No, this time it was the look of someone who had already decided you were beautiful, flaws and all. Every curve, every imperfection was part of something that made you real, something that made you whole.

He gave you a smile—soft, almost proud.

“You’re more beautiful than any painting I could ever create,” he said, his words coated in genuine admiration, the kind that made your chest swell with something almost too tender to describe.

“And I’m lucky I get to call you mine.”

Your heart warmed at the sentiment, but then, the mischievous glint returned to his gaze. Just as quickly as the vulnerability appeared, it was replaced with his usual cocky swagger. But the words still lingered, melting the tension in your chest.

You took a step back, shifting your body slowly, deliberately.

A wicked grin spread across your face as you rolled your hips, just enough to send him a signal—something that would make him squirm.

“Lucky, huh?” you purred, voice smooth and teasing, your movements slow as you turned your back to him, knowing full well he was watching. You exaggerated the sway of your hips, pushing your body against him just enough for him to feel it. The way his breath hitched told you everything you needed to know.

His face turned crimson almost instantly, and you could see the telltale signs of him trying to play it cool like he hadn’t just been put on the spot.

“Careful there,” you teased, stepping closer again, your body brushing against his with purpose.

“You might just find out how lucky you really are.”

Sol’s jaw clenched, eyes widening as he tried to regain his composure. But it was obvious. You had him flustered. The cocky grin faltered just slightly as he cleared his throat, a sheepish laugh slipping past his lips.

“I—uh—I'm always lucky, right?” he said, his voice faltering for a second before he cleared his throat again, cheeks still flushed. “You’re just, you know... distracting.”

You turned back to face him with a playful, knowing smile, eyes flickering over him. “Distracting?” You raised an eyebrow, lips curling into something more mischievous. “I’m not that distracting.”

“Y-You are,” he sputtered, his face burning brighter as he tried to backpedal, but his words were slipping out in a tangled mess. “I’m just trying to say—I mean, you’re—uh, distractingly... perfect. Happy?”

You could see the way Sol was trying to keep it together, his usual cocky demeanor slowly unraveling under the weight of your teasing. His face was flushed, and his breath was a little shallow—oh, you had him right where you wanted him.

You couldn’t help but let a small, satisfied grin slip across your face as you brushed a finger down his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your touch.

“Happy, but I think you’re still a little... flustered,” you whispered, your voice low and teasing, barely above a breath.

Sol’s lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, he just stood there, cheeks flaming red, clearly at a loss for how to keep his cool. His usual confident swagger had disappeared, leaving him with nothing but his flushed skin and that almost desperate look in his eyes.

“Shut up,” he muttered, his voice gruff, though it didn’t quite match the tenderness he was clearly trying to hide. That smile—just the slightest tug at the corner of his lips—gave him away.

“I think you’re enjoying this a little too much,” he added, his words soft but full of warmth, like he couldn’t quite decide whether to laugh or pull you closer.

“Well,” you purred, leaning in so your lips were almost touching the shell of his ear, your voice barely a whisper. “Maybe I’ll stop distracting you... if you can keep your cool next time.”

Sol’s throat tightened as he struggled to form a coherent response, his eyes still fixed on you with that heated, almost predatory intensity. He cleared his throat, his hands finding the back of his neck in a desperate attempt to regain some control.

“No promises,” he muttered, his voice slightly strained, clearly trying to hold it together. “But, uh... you’re lucky I don’t mind a little distraction... with you.”

You smirked at his struggle to hide his arousal, stepping back just enough to give him a little space. But not too much. You wanted him to feel it, feel how much you had him on the edge.

“Mmm, I think I’ve got you figured out,” you said with a sly grin, letting your words settle in the air between you two.

Sol let out a soft laugh, but it didn’t sound as confident as before. “Yeah, you do,” he said, still a little flustered, his cocky edge barely hanging on. “And if you keep this up, you might just make me say something... really cheesy.”

Your eyes sparkled with mischief as you took a step back, your body deliberately moving in a way that made his eyes follow your every movement. He didn’t even try to hide the way his gaze lingered on you, the heat of his stare nearly tangible.

“Maybe I’ll make you,” you teased, your voice dripping with mock sweetness. “We’ll see how much you can handle.”

And just as he took a breath to respond, you pounced.

In a flash, you had him pinned beneath you, his back hitting the ground with a soft thud as you straddled him with confidence. His breath hitched, a surprised gasp escaping his lips, but you didn’t give him time to adjust.

You leaned in close, your lips brushing the shell of his ear as you whispered, “Now, tell me, Sol... can you finish your artwork now? Or will I be too much of a distraction?”

Sol’s eyes widened, a mix of frustration and desire flickering in his gaze as you pressed your body into his, feeling every inch of him tense beneath you. His hands hovered just at your sides, like he was trying so hard to keep them from pulling you closer—yet, you could feel the unspoken tension in his every muscle.

“I—I’m trying to focus,” he stammered, his voice lower now, almost a growl, but the way his hips shifted told you everything. “But you’re making it... really hard to concentrate.”

You smiled, leaning down to brush your lips across his jawline, just soft enough to send a shiver down his spine. “You’ll deal with it later, Sol,” you teased, the promise of something far more tantalizing hanging between your words.

“Finish your art. And then, we’ll see what happens next.”

You could feel his restraint crumbling beneath you, and for the first time in a while, you saw Sol’s usual cockiness falter completely. It was a thrilling, heady sensation—watching him lose control, and knowing you were the one who had done it.

Who would've thought the artist would paint you like this, huh?

See? I’m not always mean when it comes to writing Sol. I’ll admit, he’s a cutie—though, we still have some unfinished business.

✑ 𝑔𝑒𝑜

Geo’s the type whose sharp eyes catch everything.

You and Geo were on one of your usual thrift store trips, strolling down the quiet strip just a few blocks from your place. The sun was starting to dip, casting a soft golden hue over the old, eclectic shops.

Geo, however, was clearly not thrilled. He was practically dragged here, grumbling under his breath as you walked past the piles of secondhand clothes and dusty shelves.

“God, this place is a hellhole,” he muttered, his nose wrinkling as he glanced around with disgust. “It’s like someone’s idea of a landfill masquerading as a boutique.”

You rolled your eyes, pretending you didn’t hear him complain every single time. “Come on, Geo. You might actually find something cool.”

He shot you a look, his arms crossed like he was waiting for an excuse to leave. “Cool? Cool? This place is so fucking dirty. The air smells like regret and broken dreams. It’s a maze of filth,” he scoffed, making a show of wiping his hands like he'd just touched something radioactive.

You smirked, unfazed. “Well, you’ll survive. I’m taking you to one of the nicer ones today, alright? You’ve got no excuse.”

Geo shot you a side-eye, clearly unimpressed. “Expensive thrift stores are still thrift stores. Don’t try to trick me into thinking they’re anything special.”

You shrugged. “Hey, it’s cleaner. And you can’t argue with the fact that you always end up paying for everything. So really, what’s the harm?”

He groaned, clearly not thrilled with the idea, but you knew how this would go. As much as he hated it, Geo was a sucker for your little adventures. You’d pick out a few things, he’d end up covering the bill, and you’d both walk out with something—him reluctantly admitting it wasn’t all bad, though he’d never say it out loud.

“Fine,” Geo grumbled, his gaze sliding across the racks with disdain. “But if I end up covered in dust and smelling like something dead, I’m blaming you.”

You grinned, knowing exactly how it would play out.

Even if he hated it, Geo would never let you pay. As smug as he was, he always made sure you didn’t spend a dime—something about “his pride,” or whatever.

It was so classic Geo.

The soft jingling of a store’s bell announced your arrival at yet another quaint little shop, and as usual, Geo wasted no time diving into the racks. You followed behind, casually scanning the shelves for anything that caught your eye.

Geo, however, was on a mission. “Don’t even think about it,” he muttered, his eyes flickering over to the fast food stand on the corner of the street as you passed by.

“I wasn’t going to,” you shot back, rolling your eyes.

“Good.” He gave you that look—the one that screamed, I know better. The guy was an archer, after all—his entire lifestyle revolved around staying in top shape. Hell, he probably had a personal trainer on speed dial.

“Stay away from that junk,” he added, nodding toward the fast food stand, his tone like he was advising you on life or death decisions. “It’s just gonna sit on your hips.”

You shot him a teasing glance, the corner of your lips lifting. “Not everyone’s obsessed with being ‘perfect,’ you know?”

Geo huffed, a dramatic eye roll matching yours. “I’m just saying, you’ve got a good thing going,” he said, flicking his hand at your body like he was some sort of health guru. “Don’t ruin it with greasy fries and burgers.”

You smirked, crossing your arms. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were the authority on perfection. Should I start taking notes on your diet and workout routine?”

Geo shrugged, before looking at a rack of clothes, “I mean,” he said nonchalantly, “if you want to look like me, sure.”

“You’re so humble,” you shot back sarcastically, you shook your head, amused at how seriously he took it all.

After a few more minutes of browsing, you spotted a cute outfit in the corner and grabbed it, excited to try it on. You made your way to the fitting rooms, with Geo trailing behind. He stayed near the entrance, leaning against the wall like he couldn’t care less about what you were doing. But you knew better—he was always paying attention. Even when he tried to act bored, his eyes still flickered around, making sure everything was in place.

It was one of the things that made Geo so undeniably… Geo.

Once inside the fitting room, you stared at yourself in the mirror, a familiar wave of self-doubt creeping up on you. The outfit fit fine—better than fine, really—but something about it didn’t feel right. You pulled at the fabric, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, but your eyes kept drifting to the parts of yourself you didn’t quite love. The parts you wished you could change.

The outfit? It was cute.

You just… weren’t sure you were. Maybe you do eat too much fast food, you thought, your fingers lightly brushing your stomach as your insecurities whispered in the back of your mind.

As you stared at your reflection, lost in your own head, the soft scrape of the curtain being pushed aside snapped you out of it. You turned quickly, heart skipping a beat, expecting an employee. But no—it was just Geo, tall and unimpressed, his sharp eyes flicking over the cramped fitting room like it offended him. He stood there like he owned the place, his arms crossed, with his usual air of perpetual irritation.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” you snapped, defensive and flustered.

Geo didn’t even flinch. His tone was dry, like he was bored of the question already. “You’re taking forever. And... you sounded upset. Figured I’d come in before you started crying and ruined the outfit.”

You rolled your eyes. “Geo, you can’t just barge in—”

“I just did.”

He stepped inside fully, letting the curtain fall behind him. The air in the small space changed the second he did. It was suddenly warmer. Closer. He scanned you from head to toe, but not in a crude way—he was calculating, studying, like he was mapping out your insecurities before you could say them aloud.

You crossed your arms over your chest instinctively.

“You look fine,” he said, blunt as ever. “Better than fine, actually. But you're standing there like you're about to throw up.”

You looked away. “It’s just— I don’t feel…”

Geo exhaled through his nose, annoyed, stepping in until he was right in front of you. He reached out, uninvited but unthreatening, and adjusted the strap of your top, letting his knuckles brush your shoulder. The touch was light, almost imperceptible. But it grounded you. He always knew how to do that—make a mess feel stable without saying much at all.

“Shut up,” he said gently, though the edge in his voice never softened. “You're fine. You always are.”

But that wasn’t enough. Not today.

You pulled away, sinking onto the small bench in the corner, your face twisting with something hurt and frustrated.

“You’re always such an asshole,” you muttered, arms crossing tightly. “I should’ve taken Crowe with me on this thifting trip. At least he wouldn’t make me feel like garbage.”

That stopped him.

Geo stared at you. Not in anger. Not even in annoyance. Just… still. Then, quietly, he crouched down in front of you, folding his long limbs with unnatural grace, eyes level with yours. It was startling. Geo never lowered himself. Never came down to anyone’s level.

He didn’t believe in it. And yet—here he was.

Sitting in front of you like he was trying to offer you something raw.

“You want me to say sorry,” he said, more a statement than a question.

And you… nodded. Slowly. Hesitantly. Because yeah, it did hurt. You didn’t care what most people thought of your body. But him? He could wound you without even trying.

He sighed again, but not in exasperation. In surrender. “Fine,” he said suddenly, voice barely above a murmur, “we can have fast food.”

You blinked, stunned. That was so not the point—but before you could respond, his hand lifted.

His fingers—rough, calloused from years of archery and too many fights—skimmed lightly along the side of your neck. A breath caught in your throat. He traced the curve of your collarbone, like he was memorizing it all over again. Deliberate. Gentle. And then he touched the chain you wore—the one he gave you.

The pad of his thumb ran along the charm resting just above your heart, as if to remind you: he chose this for you. A twin to the one hidden beneath the collar of his hoodie, always worn, never shown. Just like his affection.

“You like where we go,” he said, voice low and steady, “You like the way I treat you when we’re out. I know you do.”

Your breath hitched, eyes wide, lips parting—but he was already closing the space between you.

“You like,” he continued, leaning forward, “that I know what makes you feel safe…”

And then his face—his sharp, pretty face—pressed into the curve of your shoulder blade. Not your shoulder. Not your collar. But the space right between—intimate, vulnerable. The tip of his nose grazed your skin, breath warm as it spilled across your back.

“I know what makes you feel good,” he whispered, the words shaped more from instinct than desire, “what makes you feel wanted… even when I don’t know how to want people the way everyone else does.”

You felt the shift before you saw it—his body bracketing yours, hand pressed to the wall beside your head.

Not caging. Not crowding. Protecting.

Always that careful restraint, like he was made of sharp edges but would never dare cut you.

“I’ll say sorry,” he murmured, voice rough silk, his lips so close now they practically breathed against your skin, “a thousand times if that’s what it takes. For making you think I see you as anything less. I don’t.”

He pulled back just far enough to meet your eyes, and when he did—God. Geo didn’t just look at you. He studied you.

His expression stayed unreadable, that same carved stone stoicism—but his gaze roamed, reverent and scorching, memorizing the parts of you he’d always admired but rarely said aloud.

“You don’t get it,” he said, voice lower now, almost reverent.

“I see everything.”

His eyes flicked downward. Not in a crude way—no. It was hungrier than that and deeper. A slow drag of attention across the slope of your shoulders, the curve of your chest, the way your waist dipped into your hips. Every place your body softened, or pressed tight against your clothes, or creased when you moved—he drank it in like he owned the knowledge of you.

“Doesn’t matter what you're wearing. You could be in a hoodie three sizes too big or nothing at all, and I’d still be trying to memorize the way it fits around you.”

His hand ghosted along your side, not quite touching, but it made your skin light up anyway.

“I’ll let you hit me, if that’ll help,” he said, and this time his voice cracked, just a little. “I’ll get on my knees. I’ll beg.”

You could feel it—his tension.

The weight of it in the way his jaw clenched, like it killed him to say that but he meant it.

“Whatever you need,” he said again, eyes flicking to your lips. “You can wear anything. I’ll still admire you for it. Every damn time. And I’ll keep buying you old and used shit if it makes you feel good.”

His head tilted, eyes narrowing, locking onto yours with that signature deadpan focus—cold, but not cruel. Just… impossibly precise. As if the rest of the world had blurred, and only you remained in focus.

“…But don’t pretend like you want anyone else but me,” he added, voice dipping. Something raw coiled underneath the words.

Possessive. Territorial. “Especially that charmer.” That last word landed like an arrow—clean, direct, and deliberate. It struck where it was meant to, buried deep.

“That’s the only thing I won’t apologize for.”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Your lips parted slightly, but nothing came out. Your face was burning, heat creeping down your neck, blooming across your chest. And your heart—God, your heart was a mess of stuttering beats and heavy thuds, too loud, too much.

Still, you held his gaze. Those sharp, hunter’s eyes—focused, unflinching. An archer’s eyes. The kind that made you feel bare and known and hunted all at once.

Okay… maybe you did feel a bit better.

Because Geo never missed his mark, certainly not with you.

Blushing at this part… didn’t think it would land that hard—damn.

✑ 𝒽𝓎𝓊𝑔𝑜

Hyugo’s the type who always had a way of touching you.

The textbooks were open, sure. Highlighters are scattered across the coffee table. There were even half-finished online flashcards pulled up on your phone.

But the studying?

Yeah, that died the moment Hyugo showed up with that lazy grin and a bag of snacks he definitely wasn’t supposed to bring near the couch.

“You know,” you said, nudging him with your knee as he flopped beside you, “we’re supposed to be reviewing the chapter on cognitive development, not watching cat videos on your phone.”

He didn’t even flinch. “I’m multitasking,” Hyugo said, one hand holding up his phone as a kitten somersaulted across the screen, the other casually reaching into the bag of chips. “Besides, you said we were studying. I already finished that unit last night.”

You blinked at him. “You what?”

“Yep,” he popped the ‘p’ smugly. “Got bored. Knocked it out at like, 2AM.”

“You—? Hyugo, we have a test today. You’re supposed to be panicking with me, not acting like it’s optional.”

He finally set his phone down, turning to you with that annoyingly bright, cheerful face of his—the one that screamed, I’m way too charming to ever suffer consequences. “Why would I panic? I’ve got you. Worst case, I cheat off your paper.”

You shoved his shoulder, and he laughed, leaning his head back against the couch like he hadn’t just confessed to academic fraud.

“You’re such a menace.”

“Yeah, but I’m your menace.” He grinned sideways at you, hair slightly messed up from how he’d flopped into the cushions. “Besides, don’t act like you don’t like having me around when you’re stressed. I make good noise-cancelling background static.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I know.” He winked. “That’s why you let me distract you instead of forcing me to open a textbook.”

“Because I know you’ll ace it anyway.” You paused, sighing. “Seriously though, how do you always finish everything without looking like you try?”

Hyugo shrugged, eyes twinkling. “Magic. Or maybe I just hyperfixate until it’s done and forget to eat in the process. Who’s to say?”

You just stared at him for a beat, then leaned over to steal a chip from his bag. “I hope you fail the extra credit.”

“I won’t,” he said smugly, popping another chip into his mouth, “but thanks for the emotional support, babe.”

You rolled your eyes, frustration building as you tried to explain Piaget’s stages of development for the third time. You were so close to getting your point across, but then—there it was. That subtle shift in the air. Hyugo. You didn’t even need to look up to know what was happening. He was moving again. Not loudly, not jarringly, just that soft, insistent motion of his body sliding closer to yours.

Before you could even finish your sentence, his legs stretched out across the couch, and his head was nestled in your lap like it was his damn birthright.

“…Hyugo,” you warned, voice flat, trying to keep some semblance of focus while a textbook balanced precariously on your knees, the edge just missing the top of his head.

He didn’t even acknowledge you at first.

“Shh,” he hummed, his eyes already closed, the tips of his lashes grazing the tops of his cheeks, his expression soft and relaxed. "I study better like this."

“No, you don’t,” you muttered, shaking your head in disbelief.

"You don’t even study."

“I observe,” he replied nonchalantly, voice thick with that lazy calm he always had when he was too comfortable. “And absorb. Osmosis.”

You sighed heavily, rolling your eyes so far back you thought they might stay there.

But still—despite everything, you didn’t push him off. Not yet.

Your hand, as if on its own, drifted to his hair. It was a habit by now. His hair was always so warm, so soft, and you hated how comforting it felt between your fingers. He smelled like faint citrus and clean laundry, a scent that reminded you of sunlight on a lazy afternoon, wrapped up in hoodie form. It was ridiculous how nice he smelled.

And then, it happened.

Slowly, carefully, with the kind of audacity only Hyugo could get away with, he turned just enough to press his face into your stomach. His arms slid around your waist, pulling you in like you were a pillow he had no intention of letting go.

He just… settled there.

His body was warm and secure against you, like he’d staked his claim and expected you to accept it.

It was so casual, so effortless, that you almost didn’t know how to react. But your body knew. It tensed instantly like you had no control over how it responded to his touch. He was too close. Too present. The heat of him spreading across your skin made your breath catch, and your spine went rigid, all the while you were desperately trying to keep your composure.

The book you’d been holding slipped off your knees, tumbling onto the floor with a quiet thud. You didn’t even have the mental space to care. Instead, all you could focus on was the weight of his head against your stomach, the feel of his arms around you like some kind of anchor. His presence was all-consuming, and somehow you could never quite get used to it.

You didn’t understand why Hyugo was always touching you. You didn’t mind it, not in the way you should’ve. It wasn’t that it annoyed you—hell, there were times it felt like you didn’t mind it at all.

But why? Why did he always need to be so close?

You weren’t even sure why you didn’t push him off when you knew you should. Was he really that confident? Did he not see how ridiculous it was for someone like him to be so affectionate with someone like you?

You looked down at him, his face pressed against your stomach like it was the most natural thing in the world, like he could do this forever if you’d let him.

But how could anyone, especially him, be into someone like you?

Someone who was all sharp edges and curves and things that made you uncomfortable in your skin? How could he adore you the way he did when you didn’t even understand how to adore yourself?

And yet… you couldn’t help it.

The warmth of his body against yours, his gentle breath on your skin, it was like a constant reassurance. His affection, so soft, so unrelenting, was like a force you couldn’t escape.

Hyugo’s voice broke the silence then, soft and rumbling as if he sensed your thoughts and wanted to ground you in the present.

“You’re so quiet when I do this,” he muttered, his arms tightening around you just a little more. “

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, huh?” He added.

You swallowed hard, unsure how to explain. You didn’t know if you could even put it into words. “I—don’t get it,” you said, your voice almost a whisper. “Why are you always so close? I’m… I’m not like others, Hyugo.”

He pressed his face deeper onto your stomach, his eyes steady, warm, and intense. His gaze softened, that familiar tenderness you couldn’t seem to escape.

“Hyugo—” You pushed at his shoulder gently, a warning, a tremble in your voice you didn’t mean to let out. “Don’t. Stop”

He stopped moving. If anything, he just held you tighter.

“Stop it,” you whispered again, more to yourself than him, hating how your voice cracked. “That’s not fair.”

“Why?” His voice was muffled against your shirt, soft and steady. “Because I love you too much?”

You tried to pull back again, your hands moving to his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie. The movement was instinctive—trying to push him off, just a little space between you. But, damn it, he didn’t budge. Hyugo, always so damn stubborn, always so strong. Why was this short shit so damn solid?

His hand, warm and steady, slid down to the side of your hip, his touch slow, intentional, like he was tracing the outline of your body in the way only he could. Every inch of your skin, every curve, every line, he made it feel like it was meant to be touched.

You bit your lip, trying not to show how his closeness was making your heart pound. You weren’t sure why you still hesitated. But his warmth against your stomach was undeniable—something in the way he pressed his face into you felt different, familiar, like he belonged there.

"You don’t get to say that when you do this," you whispered, your voice small against the growing pressure of his presence.

"Not when I’m like this."

Hyugo shifted, his hand resting at your waist as if he could hold you there forever. "Like what?" he asked, voice low and curious, his gaze never leaving yours.

You didn’t answer, because, honestly, you couldn’t.

He knew what you meant. Hyugo always knew.

His breath hitched, and then there was the softest exhale like he was absorbing every moment, every inch of you beneath his touch. He always paid attention. So much attention.

"You think I haven’t noticed?" His voice was barely a whisper now, but it sent a shiver through your body. "You get quiet every time I touch you here," he murmured, his hand grazing your side, just enough to remind you of how it felt to be seen. "Like I’m not supposed to. Like I’ll notice something you don’t want me to see."

You tried to look away, but his eyes, those baby blue, soft eyes, never let you escape. You swallowed hard, heart thumping in your chest. He was so close, and everything about him made it impossible to hide how he was slowly unraveling you, piece by piece.

His fingers brushed your curves again, gently, as if exploring, and in that touch was a world of affection that you couldn’t deny.

“I love the way you feel,” he added, his voice tinged with something deeper than casual flirtation. "The way you’re built, the way your body speaks without saying a word. You have strength in every inch of you. And, that’s what gets to me. You don’t have to hide any part of you from me.”

Your stomach clenched, and this time it wasn’t with discomfort but with something that felt like relief—a soft weight that you didn’t realize you’d been carrying until now.

He wasn’t judging. He was worshipping.

Every curve of your body, every part of you he touched, he made it feel like you were a masterpiece in his eyes.

You didn’t say anything. How could you?

His words were making you feel too seen, too cared for, too cherished.

You never imagined this kind of affection would feel so overwhelming, so soft. His affection wrapped around you like a blanket.

"I’m not leaving," he murmured again, as his hands pulled you closer, wrapping around you like a shield, as if to say, I’ve got you. "You can hate it. You can push me away. But I’m staying. I won’t let you shrink back into yourself."

Your hands trembled against his chest, and his gaze softened even further if that was even possible.

“You don’t get to apologize for parts of you I already love,” he said, his voice a little hoarse now, each word carrying weight, like a promise. "I will cling to you like a damn leech because I want you to see yourself the way I see you. I want you to feel it. Feel the love I’m giving you until it seeps into your bones. Until your body feels the love, too."

His hand moved again, caressing the curve of your hip in slow, soft and slow strokes, as though he had all the time in the world to make you feel the warmth of his touch. There was a tenderness there that made you breathless, like he was trying to imprint that love into your very skin.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” he murmured softly, his genuine words making your heart flutter. “Don’t let anyone—especially yourself—tell you otherwise.”The way he said it, so casually, but with such an unwavering certainty, made your throat tighten.

You didn’t know how to process it, how to take in all the love he was offering.

It was too much. But in the best way.

His fingertips traced the line of your waist, a careful, intentional touch that sent a shiver through you. His body pressed so close to yours that you could feel the heat of his own skin, and that heat felt like a balm for every insecurity you’d ever harbored.

“Your body,” he continued, his voice soft but firm, “is a reflection of your strength, of your warmth.”

It was impossible to ignore the way those words resonated deep within you. He wasn’t just talking about your curves or the way your body felt beneath his hands.

He was talking about your spirit, your strength, the way you carried yourself in a world that often tried to tell you you weren’t enough.

You felt a flush creeping up your neck, a heat that had nothing to do with his touch and everything to do with the way his words were making you feel. The tightness in your chest only seemed to grow, a mixture of vulnerability and something else—something more powerful that you weren’t quite ready to admit.

“And I’ll be here,” he added, his voice softening even further, “always, loving you for every inch of it."

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and you couldn’t help but close your eyes for a moment, trying to absorb everything he was giving you. The way he saw you, the way he adored every inch of you, it hit you deeper than you ever expected.

It made your heartache in the best way—this raw, aching love that you couldn’t escape, even if you wanted to.

And still, he didn’t let you go.

Hyugo’s arms remained wrapped around you, strong and secure, holding you close as though he never wanted to let you slip away.

It was like he was trying to make sure you never forgot how beautiful you were, how worthy of love you were. You couldn’t help but marvel at the way he held you like you were his teddy bear, his safe place. A person with a baby face like his, always so soft and warm, but with a heart that could hold the weight of your world.

He had a way of making you feel safe, cherished—like you were the most important thing in his life, and nothing would ever change that.

His presence was like sunlight, his affection the warmth you never knew you needed. And in that moment, as he held you there, you realized something:

Hyugo needed you, because, after all, you were his happiness.

I may have a few favorites when it comes to writing Geo and Hyugo…

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anothermaletfwriter · 4 months ago

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How do you feel being a twink?

(Accidentally deleted the anon ask oops: can you please do a story where the library changes a total douche straight guy into the ideal, effeminate twink asian boyfriend of the gay guy he relentlessly bullies? would love if the guy feels himself becoming trapped in his own mind & unable to stop his new body from absolutely fawning over the new love of his gay life. your stories are soooo hot)

Liam Richardson never got along with his gay roommate, Daniel Lee. For starters, Liam didn’t even originally pick out Daniel as his roommate. The original roommate he picked was a straight white jock bro like himself but he never arrived. It was only after Daniel arrived that Liam learned the original roommate dropped out of university to work on his full-time job of teaching a course about selling other courses.

Liam didn’t consider himself homophobic. He just didn’t want people to shove their sexuality in his face, despite him constantly doing the same for his heterosexuality.

Daniel was the out and proud gay that caused agitated Liam. Daniel wore soft oversized colorful outfits. His bedsheets and blankets were a rainbow. He had rainbow pride flags and posters of K-pop groups hanged on his wall. Underneath his bed was his collection of BL and yaoi manga. He made the place smell of peaches and cream.

To most people, Liam was a bully to Daniel, making fun of his looks, gay voice and the gay media he enjoyed. He had resorted to verbal bullying after his first and only attempt at physical bullying had backfired. After a two hour gym session, Liam had come home, wearing a drenched muscle tee that barely covered his juicy pecs, to Daniel eating the chips he had left out on the counter that were meant for him. After a loud argument between the two of them, Liam put Daniel in a headlock, flexing his muscles as he shoved Daniel’s soft face into his musky pits. He stopped after a few seconds when he felt Daniel’s boner on his legs. He swore off to never do any physical bullying again, despite Daniel’s multiple requests for him to do it again, sometimes he even offered money for it, which Liam still turned down.

Because of Daniel, Liam had to calculate around his schedule, figuring what time he got home to sneak a woman into their place for a quick fuck session. His type were short busty women, except for Asians as he didn’t find them that attractive, especially if they wore nerdy glasses. He enjoyed how powerful he felt towering a foot over his women.

Daniel wasn’t shy about his dream boy: Soft, effeminate, twink and Asian. Liam was pleasantly surprised Daniel never brought any guys home. He didn’t want to see any gay sex, especially one that involved Daniel. When asked when he would find a guy to hookup with, Daniel simply responded with, “You’ll know when I bring him home.”

When he woke up this morning, he could swear Daniel was staring at him with a big smile. What made it even creepier was his recollection of Daniel speaking in Mandarin before he fell asleep last night and a glance at his laptop revealed he was looking at ancient love spells.

There was a new library in town, and Liam went there, voluntarily, not to study but to go searching for any women to bring home and breed. If he timed it right, he had an hour to find one and fill up before Daniel got home. His predictions were accurate as he was able to snag a seat that give him a clear view of the pod of sorority girls chattering amongst themselves. While Liam slowly got up to approach them, he stopped midway from his chair. A soft vanilla fruity scent clogged his nostrils like if someone had thrown a perfume bomb in the middle of the library. He looked around and noticed no one seemed to even realize the smell. As the perfume entered his body, he felt his chest grow warm, prompting him to go to the bathroom.

Once he arrived in the empty bathroom, he was shocked to see another face in the mirror. His nose was shorter with a wider base. His hair turned from deep wispy brown to spiky jet black. He now had monolids as his eye colors became black. His skin a golder tone than the pale beige it had before. He was Asian! Liam tugged at his elastic skin like it was a mask but it stung when he tried to pinch it off. It was his own flesh, not synthetic. But that couldn't be, he was a white guy named Liam. No he wasn’t. He was David Nguyen, far from an ordinary white guy.

A softer voice appeared in his head, revealing himself as David, “Hey I’m not done yet,”

“What the fuck? What do you mean not done yet?” Liam asked himself in the bathroom, his deep voice bolting like rain, “Get out of my head and fix me back to the white jock I was before.”

“That’s not what Daniel wants.”

“I don’t give a little shit what that gay boy wants.”

“That’s just too bad. Anyways, I’m taking over your form as per his request so enjoy the ride! It won’t hurt a bit, it will just feel even warmer!!” The voice taunted before disappearing, much to Liam’s protests for it to return.

Liam curled him up his biceps and made a fist, vowing to find Daniel before anything else happens. But before he could exit the bathroom, his body froze. No matter how hard he willed for muscles to move, they wouldn’t budge. Before he could think, his body returned back to the sink and mirror. David was in control of his body and Liam couldn’t even yell for help.

His body formed a smile as the rest of his transformation continued. His frame fizzled out. He had shrunk a couple of inches as the ceiling lamps seemed further up than a minute before. A natural red blush developed on his cheeks that made makeup pointless. His hands were smaller and softer, with the scent of strawberry hand lotion quietly on them. The tight tank top that wrapped around his big chest became loose as his pecs and abs flattened out. He raised his arms as the mirror revealed they losing most of their definition. He pulled up his pants and saw the atrophy of his leg muscles as well, they were slender and hairless like the rest of his new form. He coughed as his Adam's shrunk, sounding more feminine. While his muscles and strength shrank, On the flip side, his ass felt heavier, owing it to his bottom-friendly exercises at the gym.

Liam tried to reverse the transformation by thinking about his attraction to women but the harder he thought about their bouncing breasts and leaking pussies, the more of his thoughts became clouded with other men topping him. Liam begged to have his sexuality spared but David declined, stating it was the part most important to Daniel. He coughed out his heterosexuality. No more attraction to women, no desire to have sex with them. All in his male gaze was other men now. This couldn’t get any worse.

His roommate boyfriend, Daniel, walked in. His smile piercing through David’s confusion, as he squeezed the little muscle left on his chest, “You okay, David?”

Liam was no longer in control of his body, let alone his consciousness. All the douchey and toxic parts of his masculinity were cleansed out and replaced with a softer, effeminate and sensitive one. His voice rose in pitch, matching the one speaking in his head earlier, “Yeah, I just needed a minute to myself"

Daniel puckered a kiss on his lips, standing shoulder-height to his boyfriend of a few months. The internal Liam was in agony. He was no longer in control of his body, since if he was in control, he would have punched Daniel. Liam was straight, he would never even think of kissing another guy, let alone someone as gay as Daniel. But he wasn’t Liam anymore, he was David, an openly gay Asian man.

Memories of their relationship were the next to be modified. Their argumentative battles and awkward standoffs as roommates were gone. All the hostility within vanished, and what remained was tranquility and love. Instead of a rocky start, their sparks flew off instantly, since they shared many of the same interests: cozy games, crocheting, Drag Race and K-pop. All the nights Liam spent on his phone watching football highlights were replaced by the vibrant pink nights where David and Daniel cuddled on the living room couch together underneath a Hello Kitty Blanket as they rewatched Drag Race clip’s and K-pop MNET performances on Youtube. On the table was the strawberry bobas they ordered nearly every weekend.

David was enamored with Daniel not just because of his cute twinkish look but his soft, adorable personality. He would be infuriated if he knew that his old version as Liam bullied his adorable cinnamon roll of a boyfriend. David and Daniel could not imagine where they wouldn’t be living together in their cute penthouse in Manhattan. Their first date was at the dining hall, eating bland cheeseburgers and salty curly fries, as David was the first to say “I love you."

The couple soon returned home from the library. Liam’s stacks of weights and dirty stinky gym clothes disappeared as Squishmallows and other plushies and piles of neatly folded laundry that smelled off fresh fabric conditioner. The mirror Liam used to flex and even spray a few shots of his seed on became spotless. Its outer frame became pink and decorated with Polaroids of Daniel and David together, almost like a shrine to their relationship. Liam could only watch in the back of David’s mind and body as reality finished correcting its mistakes.

David and Daniel cuddled together and kissed on their beds that they had smushed together. Their hearts flustered as they touched every warm spot of their bodies out of love. They couldn't be any happier than this.

There was no Liam, only a David that had always existed and loved his roommate boyfriend, Daniel.

#male tf #male transformation #whitetoasian #straight to gay #muscle loss #racial tf #twink tf #tf story #jock to nerd #mental change #reality change

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bluewxrld07 · 2 months ago

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Blue Strips (Insta AU)

Summary: When Joe Burrow gets caught with a supermodel, Y/N tries her best to heal.

Author's note: this will slowly become a mini series! I think I've got some slow burn type of feelings going for this one hehe

Joe burrow x exgfestapa!reader, Jack Hughes X estapa!reader

Warning(s): not a lot, just how breakups usually go, cheating slightly mentioned. Enjoy :)

ynestapa just posted a photo!

Liked by bffig, edwards.73, teehiggins, joeyb_9, and 980k others

ynestapa Everybody's Fool

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bffig soooo hot, so hot

user Ummmm... where's the ring???

user Y'all her ring is gone..?

edwards.73 slayyyy

user y'all maybe she's getting it cleaned? don't fret yet

→ user I don't think so, not after what TMZ just posted user3

TMZ just posted a photo!

liked by user4, user1, oliviaponton, and 1.2m others

TMZ New couple alert?? Cincinnati Bengals franchise Quarterback, Joe Burrow, has been seen around town with Victoria's Secret model and Tik Tok influencer, Olivia Ponton!! Questions and rumors started to increase especially after seeing Burrow's latest, now ex-fiance, Y/N Estapa, has been seen not only with boxes outside their shared Cincinnati home, but also wearing no wedding ring!

What happened between the pair? Read our article for more information in our bio!

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user Oh please tell me this is a serious joke

user He left Y/N L/N for this chick??? Joey please have some fucking common sense in you

user Poor Y/N :(

user Yeah this won't last, but enjoy it while it lasts Olivia...

user Y/N has always deserved better anyways, especially if this is how low Joe is going to stoop. Yikes.

ynestapa just posted some photos!

liked by edwards.73, markestapa, bffig, rutgermcgroarty, and 900k others

ynestapa Took a visit home for the time being <3

tagged markestapa, edwards.73

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edwards.73 FINALLY 🥳

markestapa I've missed my favorite skating buddy 🥲

→ ynestapa I was literally home two weeks ago you dunce.... markestapa

→ markestapa Okay so?? I can still miss you duh ynestapa

user THE HAIR?????

bffig Oh yes yes I do agree that brown is your color HELLO 😘

→ ynestapa Had to go back to the natural roots after having a copycat on my hands 🙊 bffig

user not her hinting at Olivia I'm dead

user Yeah Olivia has nothing on Y/N

*liked by ynestapa*

edwards.73 Who got you the flowers tho??

→ ynestapa No idea 🤷‍♀️ edwards.73

→ edwards.73 You lie just as good as your brother ynestapa

lhughes_06 Wtf how do I always miss when you're home????

→ ynestapa Awww miss you too Lukey lhughes_06

jackhughes has started following you!

ynestapa just posted a photo!

liked by bffig, markestapa, jackhughes, edwards.73, and 1.1m others

ynestapa barefaced

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user Poor girl's eyes look so swollen and bloodshot aww :(

user She's definitely heartbroken rn this is so sad for her

user I can't imagine what it feels like being cheated on and seeing him choose her. That's so shitty

*liked by ynestapa*

markestapa Wonder why

→ ynestapa Literally shut up markestapa

→ markestapa Don't let his pity lies and apologies get to you. I've taught you better than that ynestapa

→ ynestapa I'm older than you, so don't even start with that markestapa

edwards.73 Moooom the siblings are fightingggg

→ ynestapa You be quiet too edwards.73

→ markestapa Can it Eddy edwards.73

→ edwards.73 Someone come pick me up I'm scared

lhughes_06 Well turn that frown upside down because your fave is in town now

→ ynestapa Don't play with me lhughes_06

→ lhughes_06 Literally just got to the lakehouse ynestapa

→ markestapa I've never seen her speed the car out of the Canes parking lot so fast lhughes_06

→ lhughes_06 Wow and her love for Canes really is something unbeatable. Guess I just topped that 🥰 markestapa ynestapa

→ ynestapa yeah yeah hush we're on our way lhughes_06 markestapa

lhughes_06 just posted a photo!

liked by jackhughes, ynestapa, dylanduke, edwards.73, and 800k others

lhughes_06 What a night to start off the summer

load more comments

ynestapa I've missed my boys

edwards.73 awww Lukeyyyyy 🤭

markestapa Tell Gavin to give me that helmet back, it's my turn

ynestapa wtf is happening in the basement rn??

→ edwards.73 Well come look, unless you and your new pal are too busy 🧐 ynestapa

→ ynestapa omfg 🤦‍♀️ edwards.73

user Ooooh new buddy??? I'm intrigued

user I just know these boys heal Y/N in the best way possible. True family right there

bffig Ummm better not start the shenanigans till I get there

Oliviaponton just posted a photo!

liked by user, addisonrae, Joeyb_9, charlidamelio, and 900k others

oliviaponton Blondie

load more comments

user Oh I think someone is really insecure rn

user Oh honey.. umm

user This is... uhh

addisonrae love

user Yeah this is a no from me

ynestapa just posted a photo!

liked by jackhughes, bffig, markestapa, lhughes_06, and 1.3m others

ynestapa I'ma strip down all your wrongs

load more comments

user NOW THISSSSS

user Olivia punching air rn

bffig Suddenly my pants are on the floor???

ynestapa Happens when you look into my eyes babes bffig

→ bffig Well shit now I wanna know how I can never stop staring at you ynestapa

markestapa I've seen too much where's your shirt

edwards.73 Well hi there what is THIS

→ ynestapa not for you edwards.73

jackhughes Wowza hello

user UMMM JACK?!

user JACK HUGHES IS HERE!!!

lhughes_06 If you don't hurry up we're gonna miss the uber

→ ynestapa I coming I coming lhughes_06

bffig just posted a photo!

liked by ynestapa, edwards.73, markestapa, jackhughes, lhughes_06 and 875k others

bffig Actual love of my life

tagged ynestapa

load more comments

user idk who I wanna be more rn

user Name a prettier bestie duo... I'll wait.

ynestapa Promise to never take the ring off or cheat and I'm yours

→ bffig deal ynestapa

→ edwards.73 deal ynestapa

→ jackhughes deal ynestapa

→ ynestapa Ok hey now 😨

user JAAAAAACKKKKK?!!!?!?!??!

user Does Jack realize that this is PUBLIC??

lhughes_06 Tone it down a bit chief jackhughes

jackhughes Idk what you mean lhughes_06

markestapa just posted a photo!

liked by edwards.73, ynestapa, bffig, lhughes_06, jackhughes and 500k others

markestapa Sissy boo

tagged ynestapa

load more comments

ynestapa Ew never that

ynestapa Love you tho <3

user I can feel that this group is where Y/N truly feels like herself

user something tells me things weren't always sunshine and rainbows behind the scenes with her and Joe

*liked by ynestapa*

lhughes_06 Ok ok y'all are my fave sibs. I'll admit it.

jackhughes Single??

→ markestapa You see a ring? jackhughes

→ ynestapa not anymore markestapa

user OOP--

ynestapa just posted a couple photos!

liked by bffig, tatemcrae, jackhughes, markestapa, teehiggins, and 1m others

ynestapa Sooo last night was fun!

load more comments

user WHO IS THAT

user WHAT

user PLS TELL ME THAT IS JACK IN THAT LAST PHOTO

bffig what a wild one. Can't wait for the rest of summer

lhughes_06 I can't lmfao idk whether to laugh or cry or both.

→ markestapa Both definitely both

→ ynestapa You're both drama queens jeepers

jackhughes You're gorgeous

→ ynestapa Awww jackhughes <3

edwards.73 YAAAS GET INTO IT BAAAABES

→ ynestapa never say that again Eddy lmfao edwards.73

#hockey boys #y/n #luke hughes #jack hughes #angst #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fic #Ethan edwards #mark estapa #joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #insta au

267 notes · View notes

henneseyhoe · 5 months ago

Text

Just One More | 💭

Lewis Hamilton x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: Mentions Of Sexual Activity, Pregnancy, Dad!Lewis, Humor, Fluff

SUMMARY: Anotha one(a baby! yaaay!)

***A/N DISCLAIMER 💌- this is !!!NOT!!! apart of the official Just One More AU, i just thought it was a silly idea to write the fans reacting if he got you pregnant AGAIN 😭 dw, id never torture yall with five kids <333***

✮✮✮✮

Y/NUSERNAME

Liked by essence and 986,862 others

Back from 🇺🇸…with souvenirs🩷 lewishamilton

—

USER1 WHAT??? OMG

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

USER2 again????

USER3 ARE YOU NOT TIRED???

USER4 I CALLED IT 😭😭😭

f1 Was itching for this announcement! See them in about 17 years maybe? 🫣🤭🍼

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

USER5 planning for a baby that isn’t here yet ain’t crazy??? 😭

USER6 F1 having a contract ready for a fetus was not on my 2025 bingo card?

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

USER7 (user6) how come? they did it for a few drivers racing now 😅😂

USER8 oh they get doooown 😭

USER9 LEWIS PLEASE GET OFF OF HER MY GOD

USER10 SERIOUSLY LIKE I PROMISE SHES NOT GOING NO WHERE LET HER GO 😭

USER11 this is why she takes so long to restock the website. too busy HUNCHING 😒

ynusername hunching?????? 😭😭😭

USER12 last time she was pregnant we didn’t get that tour…🥲

USER13 mind you this is the LAST time you sabotages us 😐🫵🏽 (lewishamilton)

USER14 Please tell me this is for a late halloween costume

ynusername yeah, i’m going as me when im pregnant 🙂

USER14 (ynusername) Y/N do not play with us right now..

lewishamilton legacy 💪🏾🧑‍🧑‍🧒‍🧒💜💛

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

USER15 YOU ALREADY HAD A LEGACY. FOUR OF THEM. YOU ARE SO INCONSIDERATE!!!

USER16 this is the greed they talk about in the bible, Lewis…

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

USER17 Omggg another little Hamilton 🥹

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

YBFF ANSWER THE PHONE Y/N???? 😭

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

YBSF bye i should have known when you didn’t wanna hang 😪😫💛

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

USER18 No you should have known when she was out here dressing like big pun in them 7x ass clothes

ynusername (user18) Yooo 😭😭😭

USER19 You guys just finding out, meanwhile me and my husband saw her at the superbowl yesterday night. She even waved😅

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

ynusername Thanks for keeping a secret! 😘💚🦅

USER20 and you didn’t snitch??? better than me

USER21 (user20) It wasn’t my place 🤷🏻‍♂️

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

USER22 Lewis and Giannis going baby for baby this year

USER23 Lewis is winning I fear!

essence Mama Y/N takes no breaks! And neither does Lewis we see 👀🤭

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

ynusername Essence…🥴🤭

USER24 HOW GREEEEEDY 😭

USER25 Soooo is there going to be a restock for the merch or does this stop it—

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

ynusername catch the restock Tuesday! Pregnancy only stops one thing and that’s me from seeing my feet 😭🩷

gq We knew first 😜

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

ynusername 🤭

✮✮✮✮

“Your fans are plotting on ripping my head off, do you see what they’re saying on twitter?!”

Lewis exclaimed and turned his phone to you, scrolling down his new notifications. You shift under the beds sheets to look at the screen, squinting slightly to read. The replies were filled with shock, as you expected, and some jokes here and there, but mostly shock. You cackle, your plump belly bouncing with every laugh.

“I can’t do anything about that! I told you if you got me pregnant again, I’d hurt you, but it looks like they’re wanting to do my dirty work”

You took the phone from his hands and cuddled up to his side as he covers the both of you with the beds duvet.

He scoffs. “Don’t act like you didn’t ask for it” Tucking his head beneath yours, he bites your neck, making you tuck your chin with a giggle.

“Shut up! That was in the moment…plus, you asked me to say it”

He hums and shakes his head, remembering the night you two conceived completely different than you.

“Nah. I don’t remember asking you to say you wanted another one of my kids. Actually, I remember what you said word for word if you want me to recite it” He mischievously clears his throat, but your hand had already made it’s way over his mouth to shut him up before he even started.

“If you say anything and my babies hear, it’s gonna be me and you” You threatened, Lewis’s eyes crinkling at the sides as he smiles widely underneath your hand.

Suddenly you felt your palm being wet, your instinct being to move. “EW! YOU LICKED ME!”

✮✮✮✮

💌—another reminder that this is NOT APART OF THE ACTUAL AU!! it’s just something cute i wanted to write as a scenario.

366 notes · View notes

unhakies · 1 month ago

Note

I have a GOOD IDEAAA OF A FANFIC!!!! (if you have time to!)

soooo a spider-man taesan and the reader like has a crush on him and has a little crush on spider-man and one day she was walking through the city late at night and she saw spider-man in a alley and she was going to go up to him but then he took off his mask and she saw who he was. and he saw her and it started to rain. and the story could be fluff and maybe with confessions at the end??? 😁😁

webbed truths . h. taesan

pairing: spiderman!taesan x reader

genre: oneshot, romance, comedy

word count: 2.12k

warnings: mentions of; a knife, & a robbery

notes — im a fein for some spiderman aus. also yall have the best ideas this was so fun to write.

you had a type. and unfortunately it was tall, funny guys, who clearly have too much confidence.

cue han taesan. your best friend since the start of university.

you met him in your chemistry class. you were lab partners and he accidentally spilt your experiment all over your notes. safe to say, you started a pretty steady friendship.

you arent sure when it happened, but you started to like him. his jokes got funnier, he got cuter and you wanted to spend more and more time with him.

"you're staring again." he says, not looking up from his notes" you scoff, "no i wasnt.." he gives you an unimpressed look. "i could feel a hole burning through my face."

"if you think im handsome, you can just say that." he spoke again, in a teasing manner.

"not everything is about you, taesan." you roll your eyes, yet you smiled anyways, a blush coating your cheeks.

"right." he chuckles, going back to your work.

on a random night, you're walking home from a late shift from work. your exhausted, but your dorm is close, so you push through.

you're so exhausted, that you barley registered when a masked man came up behind you, pulling out a knife and demanding your valuables.

you were frozen in shock, which only angered him more, he shoved the knife towards you, yelling out threats.

your shaky hands brought your purse away from your shoulder, but before you could hand it over, someone dropped between the two of you.

you let out a surprised yell, and the person knocked the robber out with a swift punch.

you blinked many times, and as your eyes adjusted, you recognized the person looming over the unconscious criminal.

"s-spiderman..?" you said in shock. "the one and only." he replied, a smirk evident in his voice. you opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

"um- thank you." you managed to get out. you bowed quickly and left him to take care of the mess that was the robber who laid on the floor.

"hey! are you gonna be okay alone?" he called out to you. "yeah, why wouldn't i?"

he looked to you, then the robber. "um, maybe because you just got robbed?" your mouth made an 'o' shape. "i should be. what are the odds i get robbed twice in the same night." you tried to joke, but he wasn't amused.

"let's go, i'll walk you." he started towards you. "what about him?" you glanced behind him. he sighed and shot his webs —which startled you— and tied him up to a lamp post.

"uh, i guess that works." you you blink at him, before starting towards your building.

the two of you talked together, taking you mind off the fact that you get robbed like 10 minutes ago.

he stopped at the entrance of your building, you turn to him "thank you so much." he shook his head, "it's my job, plus, i got to walk a pretty girl home." you scoff but blush nonetheless.

"thanks, spiderman." you give a grin before entering your building. you turn around one last time, but you see the spot where he stood empty.

you sigh and make your way up to your dorm.

you push the key in and as soon as you step in you hear a crash from taesans room.

you rush to see if hes alright.

"taesan?" you call before pushing his door open.

he breathes out as if he just ran a mile. "heh. hey ynie." he calls from his floor. all of the stuff on his bedside table were on the floor, and his window was open, the cold air biting at you.

"okay what did you do." you help him up, and start putting things back onto his nightstand.

he swallowed, "i was trying to open my window but i ended up slipping instead." you stare at him.

"how does that- you know what, nevermind. i dont wanna know. goodnight taesan." you shake you head as you smile.

he glances at the red and black mask onhis bed that you somehow missed. he picked it up, he had an urge to put it on for some reason, but you swung the door open again.

"oh my god taesanie, youll never guess what happened earlier-" you pause, looking at taesan before bursting into fits of laughter "um, taesan.. i never knew you were into spiderman." you giggle as you glance at the mask he was halfway done with putting on.

he clears his throat and looks away from you. "i have no clue what you mean." he says, putting it in his pocket. "awe no taesanie, put it back on!" you laugh and walk up to him as he pouts.

thank god you only thought he was some fanboy.

lately, taesan had been acting weirder than usual. disappearing mid conversation. showing up with random bruises and scrapes he brushed off with vague “gym accidents.”

and last week, he’d stopped an entire stack of falling lab equipment from hitting you with reflexes way too fast to be normal.

but even then, you didn’t put the pieces together. why would you?

taesan was your best-friend, and spiderman was a superhero. they existed in different universes.

until they didn't

the sky over the city had turned a violent grey, and you were standing in the middle of a tech expo turned chaos zone. a malfunctioning security bot had gone rogue, because of course it had, and now it was firing off bolts of electricity like it was in a video game boss fight.

you had ducked behind a display, phone clutched to your chest, your fingers texting taesan in a hurry. the robot sent a burst of energy flying towards a sign over your head, you looked up and quickly covered your head.

yet nothing came.

“miss me?” a familiar voice quipped, webbing the sign before it could fall on you.

“you really need better timing,” you called back, heart pounding, looking up at the superhero.

"you really need to be more careful." he shot back, webbing the robots hands before it can shoot more volts of electricity.

he got rounds of applause from some of the civilians who came out of hiding.

and then he was gone, zipping off like he always does.

but something nagged at you. his voice. low, warm, and just slightly teasing lingered in your head.

when you got home your phone buzzed

but reading over the message again, you froze. that line taesan texted, spiderman had said the same thing just moments earlier.

you shook your head, taesan is too clumsy to be spiderman.

you hummed a light tune, walking home from work again.

the rain fell onto your head, dampening your hair. "i need to get back before it gets worse." you muttered to yourself.

when suddenly, a flash of red out of the corner of your eye movement, sharp and sudden, cutting through the alley beside the closed bakery.

you should’ve kept walking.

but you didn't. you turned.

and there he was.

spiderman

his suit was torn along the shoulder, the red darker from blood or water, you couldn’t tell. he was crouched low, breathing heavily, and he hadn’t seen you yet.

you were going to say something, ask if he was alright. but then he pulled off his mask.

and everything stopped.

because it wasn’t just spiderman in front of you.

it was taesan.

his hair stuck to his forehead in messy curls. his jaw clenched as he exhaled, like the act of breathing hurt.

you made a small sound. unintentional. barely louder than the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

but he heard it.

he looked up.

you saw the moment it hit him. his eyes widened. he went still.

"yn..?” he said, voice hoarse.

you didn’t move. couldn’t. silence filled the alley like fog.

“i-” you tried, but your throat tightened. you swallowed and spoke again. “i didn’t mean to—i wasn’t following you or anything, I just-"

“i know,” he said quickly. he straightened, wincing a little, hands still holding the mask at his side. “i know. you’re not—this is just… really bad timing.”

you took a step closer, your shoes splashing slightly in the puddles. you hadn't realized it started pouring rain.

“you’ve been spiderman this whole time,” you said quietly. “and you didn’t tell me.”

he looked away. “i couldn’t.”

“i get it,” you said. and you did. maybe not completely, but enough. “…it kind of explains everything.”

he glanced back at you. “everything?”

you nodded slowly. “the bruises. the disappearances. why you never let me walk home alone, even when you were ’just passing by.’”

taesan rubbed the back of his neck. “i thought i was being subtle.”

“you were. until now.”

you both stayed quiet. staring at each other, unmoving.

finally, he said, quieter than before, “you can forget what you saw.” you blinked. “why would i do that?”

“because if you don’t,” he said, and now he looked at you like he wasn’t wearing any kind of armor, “it changes things. you’ll worry. you’ll look at me different.”

“i’m already looking at you different.”

He flinched slightly.

“i don’t mean that in a bad way,” you added quickly. “just… i guess i’ve always thought you were kind of brave. but i didn’t know how brave.”

he didn’t say anything.

you folded your arms across your chest, trying to steady yourself.

“did you ever think about telling me?” taesan hesitated. “every day.”

“then why didn’t you?”

he met your eyes.

“because you’re the only thing that feels normal. if you knew… i didn’t want you to look at me like everyone else does. like i'm something you need to worry about."

your breathing stuttered.

he looked down. “i didn’t want to lose the way you see me.”

you took another step forward. close enough now that you could see the small cut on his lip, the rise and fall of his chest.

“i don’t see you differently,” you said, softer now. “i just… understand more.”

silence again. the sound of rain filled the cracks between words.

"you know, i used to think spiderman was pretty cool."

taesan’s head snapped up.

you smiled a little, “i mean, who wouldn't? mysterious vigilante, saves the city, cool voice—"

“cool voice?” he repeated, eyebrows raising. "is that all you got from that?" you scoff at him. "yup." he laughed “you modulate it, don’t lie.”

“…okay, maybe.”

the tiniest laugh passed between you. It settled the air a little.

you hadn't realized he stood up until he stepped closer. rainwater pooled around your shoes. you didn’t back away.

“i should’ve told you,” he said quietly, barely audible beneath the sound of rain hitting pavement. “i wanted to. so many times.”

you nodded in understanding.

he exhaled, bitter at himself. “i thought I was protecting you.”

“you were hiding from me.”

he winced at your words, and for a second, you wished you hadn’t said them. but you didn’t take them back. because they were true.

“i used to think you didn’t let me in because you didn’t care enough.” You paused. “now I know it’s because you cared too much.”

“and you?” he asked, carefully. “how much do you care?”

you smiled, not because it was easy, but because it was hard.

“i don’t have a number for it. but i’ve been scared for a long time. of losing you. of never getting the chance to say something before it’s too late.”

He looked down again, water dripping from his hair. “this life… it’s dangerous. Every time i suit up, i think 'what if this is the day it catches up to me?'”

your voice was soft. “then let me be someone you come back to. not someone you keep out.”

he stared at you, really stared, like he couldn’t quite believe you were still standing there, offering this. Offering him something steady, when everything else was falling apart.

“i’m not asking to be part of the danger,” you said. “just… don’t shut me out of the person you are when the mask goes on, or comes off.”

a pause.

then, barely louder than the rain:

“i love you.”

your breath hitched.

taesan’s eyes didn’t leave yours.

“i think i have for a while,” he said. “and i’ve been scared every day. of what this means. of not coming back. but the thing i’m most scared of… is never telling you.”

something broke open in your chest. and slowly, you reached for him. he leaned down, forehead brushing yours.

you smiled and kissed him.

there, under the falling rain, with the city glowing behind you, like it had been waiting for this moment too.

perm taglist; @sh0dor1

#unhakies #boynextdoor #boynextdoor x reader #bnd smau #boynextdoor smau #kpop smau #bnd taesan #taesan #spiderman #kpop oneshots #kpop fanfic #taesan x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman au #boynextdoor taesan

254 notes · View notes

catbolt · 7 months ago

Text

— PRETTY

[SOUNDTRACK] Pretty - The Weeknd || ▶︎

Sylus doesn't take breakups lying down. Well... maybe lying on top of you.

[TAGS] sylus x female mc, angst, smut, rough sex, ex-boyfriend!Sylus, cheating (with him) (on Zayne eek), dubcon sorta, choking, Evol, mentions of blood, glasses sylus bc it's soooo hot

[A/N] my debut fic for LADS (have not written for genuinely years so forgive any rustiness, first time doing any smut also, so i was frankly a bit light with it.) More angst than smut tbh as that is my comfort zone hehe. 100% inspired by "pretty" by the weeknd from my sylus playlist

plz reblog and share or comment if you want! Feel free to leave any thoughts or feedback as this is my first time writing in a while :)

[WC] 5.1k

songfic 1/?

Sylus’ call comes unexpectedly. As his calls always did, but especially this time, considering the last time they talked she had cursed him out and damn near trashed his house, saying she was done, telling him to delete her number. He had sat on the couch with an impassive stare, arms crossed, legs splayed leisurely, completely silent. This had just enraged her even further, and she had thrown a pillow at him, desperate for some kind of reaction. He had caught it and set it down next to him calmly, continuing to refuse to give her even a morsel of proof he cared.

Whatever the two of them had had, it was over. She thought she had made that extremely clear. So her eyebrows furrow in confusion and annoyance when his name comes up on her phone screen. Sylus wouldn’t be the type to beg for her back, so what could he possibly be calling her for? Especially when he knew she was going on an out of town mission?

Especially when he knew Zayne was on this mission with her?

Against her better judgment, she accepts the call and leans back in her chair in her hotel room, mouth drawing into an irritated grimace. “What.”

The line crackles with his dark, familiar laughter. “Hello to you too.” “Talk,” she spits.

“I’m on a flight,” he says. “To where you are. I’ll be landing in an hour. Let’s see each other.”

“I don’t think so,” she retorts immediately, seething at his audacity-- how he could possibly be calling her right now as if what had happened last week was nothing.

“Ah. Let me rephrase. That wasn’t a question,” he says sternly. “I will be seeing you when I land. Consider this a courtesy heads-up.”

“You don’t know where I am,” she responds. “I am not seeing you. It’s late and I have work tomorrow.” “Don’t piss me off.” He snarls. “I don’t like being underestimated. I obviously know exactly where you are.”

She grits her teeth, realizing she should have anticipated that, but quickly regains her composure. She’s used to the back and forth with him. “Don’t tell me you came all this way to see me.” “Of course not,” he says coldly. “I’m here on business. I just happen to have a free night.” His voice softens. “And I’d like to spend it with you.”

Her hands curl into fists. “Don’t act like I didn’t tell you to your face to never contact me again. What the hell are you doing?”

Sylus doesn’t respond for a moment, and then the silence is broken with his chuckle. “You didn’t block me. So it seems you weren’t as adamant about that as you acted.”

Her cheeks redden with shame. He’s obviously right, she didn’t block him-- something had stopped her, even though she knew she should have. In the back of her mind, she had maybe fantasized about him calling her desperately, apologizing, begging for her back, and her crushing his hopes coldly like he had done to her so many times before.

“It doesn’t matter. You know I’m with Zayne now,” she says matter-of-factly. “You have no right to see me. I’m with somebody else.”

“I said don’t piss me off,” he bites, the simmer of irritation beginning to seep into his voice. It gives her a shiver of satisfaction knowing that she’s able to get under his skin even just a little. She leans into the receiver. “In fact, I was just on my way to his place now. It was a long day... we definitely both need to rest up together.”

The line falls quiet, and then Sylus finally replies, voice icy and measured. “You can’t possibly think I’m buying that, are you? Please, princess. I told you I’ll be there in an hour. Doll yourself up for me. I’ll take you out.”

The line drops. She scoffs, shaking her head. She’s pissed that he saw through her lie about Zayne-- he’s still working late, and there’s no way she’ll be seeing him tonight. She wonders what gave it away. Was it that he’s got men spying on them, or was it that her voice betrayed a hint of halfheartedness when she lied?

Her heart thuds, and her mind snaps back to the situation at hand. One hour. She sits still in the seat, completely unsure of her next move. Deep down she knows whether she likes it or not, Sylus will be on her doorstep right when he said he would. It’d be fruitless to attempt to escape him when he has eyes everywhere. So her plan... should be to fend him off.

Her resolve was always weak when it came to that, but she tries to steel herself, taking deep breaths, recounting all the times he had ignored her, pushed her aside, forgotten about her. She tries to channel that resentment into a cold hard shell around her. She won’t be weak again. Not now. Not when she’s found someone good and kind who’s shown her that she’s worth time and effort. She won’t “doll herself up” for him. It’s her turn to show she doesn’t care.

The hour ticks by in a second, and there’s a steady knock on her door. Her heart sinks-- she had hoped that somehow his plans would have been foiled by some unexpected flight delay, but he was right on time as always. She sits still on the corner of her bed, unmoving.

“Don’t make me pick the lock,” he chides softly. His voice is muffled through the wood, but the gleam of amusement shines through. She buries her face in her palms for a moment, and then slowly walks up to open the door just a crack.

He pushes it fully open with a strong hand, smirk playing on his lips already as he looks down at her. “Still in your uniform,” he chides. “You want to wear that?”

“You are not taking me out.” She responds coldly, turning to walk over and sit at the coffee table again, not meeting his gaze. She needs to maintain distance.

“If you’d rather stay here, we could make that work.” Sylus shuts the door quietly behind him and then leans his back against it, posture casual in a way that sends a spike of annoyance through her. This is why they broke up in the first place-- he was always so motherfucking casual about everything, even her, face betraying not a sliver of his true feelings.

“What do you even want from me?” She snaps, eyes glued to the coffee table. Anything to avoid looking at him. “I told you I’m with someone else. I’m not interested in restarting anything with you.”

“When did I say anything about that?” He chuckles, clearing the room in a few swift strides and sitting on the loveseat opposite her. He’s wearing a casual sweater and sweatpants-- even his glasses, which he usually doesn’t. His hair is mussed up a bit, and she notices light bags under his eyes that give her pause. Something’s definitely up. She doesn’t know what, but doesn’t want to ask. She can’t invite more conversation if her goal is to get him out of this room.

“I just want to take you out,” he murmurs, head now resting in his hand. “Is that a crime?” “Yes, when I’m spoken for by another man, it is.” She glares at him. “What about me being with someone else do you not understand?” “Does he make you feel pretty?” Sylus drawls, red eyes flickering with a hint of contempt. Her breath catches slightly, not anticipating the question. “What--”

“Does he?” Sylus pushes, leaning forward in his seat. “Does he make you feel beautiful?” “I don’t know what you’re talk--”

“No.” he cuts her off. “He doesn’t.”

She’s stunned into silence. He leans back again, chuckling and pushing up his glasses, a motion that unfortunately sends a familiar fire coursing down her body, through her chest to her abdomen. “You didn’t fight me when I came in. You didn’t yell, or tell me to leave. That tells me all I need to know, love.”

“Don’t call me that,” she sneers back.

Suddenly Sylus’ hand is gripping her chin hard, forcing her head to meet his eyes. He’s closer than she had realized, his eyes staring deep into her own. “He can’t make you feel this pretty,” Sylus rumbles, his thumb tracing her jaw, expression an inscrutable mask.

In a moment, she finds herself sprawled out on the hotel bed before she can think. His Evol-- he can throw her around how he pleases, she reminds herself, mind flashing with memories she’s tried to forget of all the compromising positions her body’s been twisted into at his whim. He’s standing at the edge of the bed, arms crossed across his chest as he looks down at her. She feels the heat of his gaze like two laser pointers as they examine her, lingering on every part of her. It's as if she’s under a scientist’s microscope. His gaze is unfeeling, but still somehow red-hot, and she can’t help the way her chest heaves up and down, feeling so observed.

He takes note of her body’s involuntary reaction. “He can’t make you feel like this by just looking at you, can he doll?”

“Fuck you,” she barks, face flushed with shame as she backs up on the bed, increasing the distance between the two. He smirks. “You’d like to?”

She rolls her eyes. “Is that what you’re here for? Sex?”

“No,” he muses, sitting down at the corner of the bed, looking at her. “Though I’m not opposed. I wanted to see you. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Her breath is coming out ragged. She can’t hide her anger much longer. “How are you acting like nothing happened? We--I-- I don’t love you! I don’t want you! What about that is so hard for you to understand?”

“Liar,” he hums in a sing-song tone, brow quirking as he meets your harsh stare cooly. “I don’t understand it because it’s a lie, sweetie. If I touched you right now your body would tell me the truth. But I already know it.” His face is smug. She wants to slap him.

“Just-- just because I might still be attracted to you doesn’t mean I would ever do anything with you again, Sylus. I have morals,” she spits.

In a red flash, he’s on top of her, a finger pressed into the center of her chest, other hand braced on the headboard. Her body convulses involuntarily in shock of his sudden proximity as well as the feeling of his skin-- even just his fingertip-- pressed against her.

He grins at her reaction. “That’s my girl.”

“Get the fuck off me,” she hisses up at him. He lowers himself so his lips touch her earlobe, so his chest is pressed against hers. “No,” he whispers simply.

At this distance, she can see even more strikingly the weariness in his features. His skin is rough. His eyes are tired. There’s a small pimple on his cheek, a hint at the fact he must have been skipping his skincare routine that he’s always been so adamant about staying on top of.

For a moment she relishes in the thought that his undone-ness is because of her. Her instincts get the better of her, and she ensnares a fist in his sweater, pulling him down even lower, tilting her head to whisper in his ear, now--

“You look like shit. Are you sad about me?”

He reels back in surprise, eyes clouding for the first time with something other than smugness, brows momentarily twitching, betraying his facade. His hand wraps around her throat, holding her into the pillow, the touch gentle but forceful. He doesn’t squeeze, just holds her steady. His mask is on before she can double back.

“Can’t a man have an off day?” he chides her. “Maybe I haven’t slept so well. I was just on a long flight. Sue me.”

“Doesn’t look like it was just a day,” she responds instantly. “Looks like an off month. Are you finally regretting being a dick?”

He sneers, hand twitching around her throat, but he remains gentle. “I’m not a dick.”

“You are a huge fucking dick,” she spits back. He leans back off her, rising into a kneeling position, smirking down at her, releasing his hand from her neck It’s then she realizes she’s been holding her breath even though he hadn’t been choking her.

“Then why are you still lying here under me? If I’m such a dick?”

“You’re just gonna use your Evol to put me back. It’s no use fighting you,” she retorts, but inwardly she knows she could have at least tried to struggle, shame rising in her stomach.

“I’m not buying that, sweetheart.” He absentmindedly hooks a finger in the top of her uniform and pops the top button open with one hand. Her face flushes involuntarily at the gesture. “W-what are you doing?”

“Seeing how long it’ll take you to shove me off. If you really do hate me so much as you say.” He murmurs, finger sliding down to pop open another button.

Her body freezes, her breath stilting into uneven inhales and exhales. It’s as if Sylus’ Evol is pinning her down, restraining her movement, but he isn’t-- he’s barely restraining her, only his finger on her body now, wrapping in the cleft of her shirt and undoing yet another button. Yet she can’t find the strength to move, eyes hazing over with the familiar lust she’s always had for him, and something further-- adoration, as she watches his face concentrated on her body. Even in this disheveled state he radiates, makes her heart swell against her will, beat hard and insistently like it’s pressing up against her ribs.

“Good girl,” he whispers, leaning down slowly to kiss at her jaw, lips warm and soft. She chokes back a sigh, clenching her teeth at his touch but still inexplicably unable to move. “You know you want this.” She doesn’t respond, grappling with herself, memories of Zayne rearing, his soft and measured touches, in contrast to Sylus’ raw aggression. Finally, hearing Zayne’s voice in her head, she snaps herself out of her paralysis, hand coming up to push Sylus back, palm flat against his chest. “W-wait.”

He stops, eyes searching her face silently. “I--I--” she stammers, eyes wide, not able to get any words out.

“Shh,” he murmurs, tracing a thumb across her lips. “I won’t make you ssay it.” He focuses on her, and then she feels heat flood her senses, a key sign he’s using his Evol again, in the other way. Her vision darkens, and she knows here, in this quiet black place he’s taking her, she can’t hide from him. It’s a place where she can only be honest. She feels her back arch as the feelings burst out of her-- I need it, I need you, make me yours, I miss you-- she feels a pang of relief that he’s removed the burden from her of saying it, of forcing her to betray herself, betray Zayne, out loud. But the shame eats away at her, corrosive like acid, as she looks into Sylus’ eyes, watching them glimmer as they decipher her hidden thoughts.

Sylus focuses, attuned to her mind and body, feeling the words of her consciousness rush in as if uttered directly into his ears, proving what he already knew-- that he still has her wrapped around his finger. “Let me have you,” he purrs, fingers wrapping around yet another button.

Her resolve crumbles with her deepest desires surfaced by his Evol. He makes work quickly of the rest of the buttons, tearing open her shirt, exposing her bra. He growls at the sight, eyes narrowing.

“You want this... don’t you?”

Her response is choked in her throat, but manages to slip out despite her better judgment. “Yes,” she moans, and that’s all he needs to hear. His mouth meets her collarbone, sucking attentively. “Good,” he murmurs between kisses. “I’m not fond of sharing, you know.”

“This doesn’t mean anything,” she mutters, her body’s reaction to him involuntary (or so she convinces herself.) “I’m still not... your girlfriend, or anything like that. I don’t even like you.”

“Who said anything about you being my girlfriend?” He mutters, mouth working over her neck now. He smiles into her skin. “Ah. Do you think I came here to get you to be my girlfriend again?”

“No.” She snaps, blushing furiously, her hands landing on his arms that are braced on top of the mattress as he leans over her. “I didn’t say that. I’m just reiterating what should already be beyond clear to you.” “I’ll tell you what’s clear to me,” he murmurs, pulling back for a second, his deep blood-red eyes boring into hers. “What’s clear is... this Zayne guy doesn’t seem to be able to handle this beautiful gift he’s been given, and it seems like this gift herself knows she isn’t being cared for properly. Enjoyed properly.” He hooks a finger into her bra strap. “Or else it wouldn’t have taken her only five minutes to crumble.”

“I’m not going back to you,” she spits out.

“You never left,” he says softly, a half smile rising on his chapped lips.

Suddenly she’s being flipped onto her back, her face smothered in the pillow below her, the sensation of a cold hand gripping the back of her neck, fingers encircling it with practiced ease. His weight presses her down, pins her deep into the blankets. With his other hand he deftly unlatches her bra from the back, and then tugs off her pants, leaving her exposed with just her underwear on. She whimpers, feeling the air smooth over her hot skin.

“He doesn’t do this for you, does he?” Sylus drawls, an arm snaking under her hips to pull her upward on her knees, his other hand still pressing her head and neck into the pillow. Her cheeks burn at this new position, knowing how vulnerable and bare she is. She stays silent, a flicker of anger mixing with desire.

He roughly yanks down her panties, and before long she feels a calloused thumb between her wet folds. She bites into the pillow, eyes squeezing shut as the familiar warmth of pleasure surges over her. She curses herself internally for letting herself become so pliant, so weak in his hands.

“Seems like I’ve got my answer,” he mutters, thumb pressing against her clit. She bites back a groan, teeth impaling her bottom lip. She can hear his usually stoic voice growing thicker and deeper with his own building arousal, a sound which only makes her feel weaker.

“Now sweetheart, I don’t have much time.” He bends down by her ear, leaning over her, hot breath sending a shiver down her body. “I’d love to take care of you slowly, bit by bit, but I wasn’t joking when I said I was here on business. I have some pressing matters to take care of that need my attention, after this... matter right here.” He slaps her ass, hard. She yelps, drawing a rough chuckle from his throat.

“I only have time for one round, unfortunately, so I’m going to ask for your input.” He purrs into her ear. “Don’t say anything else-- just be good, and answer my question. I don’t have time for your backtalk.” The flat of his hand smooths over the spot he slapped, sending bolts of heat through her abdomen.

“Fingers, my mouth... or all of me inside you. Choose.”

She tastes the tang of blood from where she’d bitten her lip earlier as she opens her mouth to speak, voice hoarse. She whispers something unintelligible into the pillow.

“Speak up, love,” he murmurs, gently easing up his hold on the back of her neck.

“All of you...” she mutters, embarrassment making her cringe, face pressed into the side of her pillow.

Suddenly Sylus spots her bleeding lip, and his brows furrow for a moment. His hands scoop her up so that she’s positioned up off the pillow, on her knees, his chest to her back and arms securely around her waist. He uses one hand to tilt her chin up and to the side. “You’re bleeding, honey. Bit your lip?”

“What does it look like,” she responds gruffly, still not wanting to give him the pleasure of agreeable answers. His thumb skates across her bottom lip, dabbling in the blood there. She winces. “Were you trying to be quiet?” he murmurs, examining his thumb that’s now flecked with her blood.

He doesn’t wait for an answer, instead, leaning down to kiss her softly, the metallic acrid tang of blood mixing between both their tongues. “Don’t do that,” he whispers softly into her lips. “I don’t want you to be quiet. You know that’s not what I like.”

The moment is more intimate than the previous ones they’ve shared tonight, and for a moment she softens a bit, her heart giving an uncomfortable fluttery lurch at his kiss, at his gently murmured words. But the moment is gone quickly, and his hand finds the back of her neck again, fingers pressing into her skin. “Remind me of your choice?” He says through clenched teeth.

“All.. all of you...” she says through a soft gasp. His face is so close to hers that all she can see is the slope of his jaw and a burning eye that’s trained on her bottom lip.

He nods curtly, and then lays her back into the mattress, her face finding the pillow again, her back arching as he nudges her knees further apart, his own legs coming between hers. As she hears the sound of his belt buckle unfastening and his low, deep breaths, she feels the shame and regret already churning in her stomach as she lies there, spread and prostrate, waiting.

“Don’t think about him,” Sylus says darkly, as if he’s reading her mind. She feels his large, muscular hands grip her waist, as if to steady her mind, to bring her back to earth, back to this moment. “He’s not here right now. Think about me.”

She stifles a moan as his fingers drift between her legs again, spreading her wide open. Her throat feels tight, and her entire body is covered in goosebumps. She trembles in anticipation, unable to deny the feeling.

“He won’t make you feel this pretty,” Sylus snarls, his hand returning to her hips, digging into the flesh. His voice is angry this time, and then her eyes blow wide as he sheaths himself completely inside her in one sharp thrust. A strangled sound tears itself from her throat, a sound she hasn’t made in a long time. He stays there, back hunching over her, his arms shaking, his knuckles white as his fingers press bruises into the skin of her waist and hips.

He starts, his pace brutal, and she can immediately detect something in the way he thrusts, in the way his hands are so rough as they move up to her breasts, gripping her from behind. Rage. His hips snap against her, sending nearly painful daggers of pleasure through her belly. She gasps each time he pistons in and out of her, unable to see him behind her, face still pressed into the pillow. “He can’t make you feel beautiful like this..” Sylus spits between grunts as he buries himself deep, again, again, again...

“Sylus,” she chokes out, eyes hazy with pleasure, the world around her vignetting, falling dramatically out of focus. “I want to see you-- let me turn over--” she babbles.

He pulls out with a harsh grunt, and then flips her over onto her back at her request. She takes him in fully now, eyes raking over him, torso bare and sweater discarded on the nearby couch, his pants at his knees, his face contorted in a mess of lust and fury, glasses slipping lower and lower on his nose. It might be the most upset she’s ever seen him look, even more upset than when they’d broken up.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says harshly, gripping her hips again and aligning himself with her dripping entrance.

“Like what--ah!” She hisses as he enters her, cutting the conversation short. He resumes his unrelenting pace, coming down to his elbows, inches of space between them as he ruts into her.

“Like you’re fucking examining me--” he sneers between thrusts. She protests, her hands finding his shoulders as she’s pulled deeper and deeper into pleasure. “I’m not examining-- hah... I’m just looking at y-”

His hand clamps over her mouth. “Don’t talk,” he snarls. Her eyes widen. Something’s snapped in him, his demeanor different, whatever cold exterior he’d managed to build cracking undeniably now, revealing the twisted feelings layered underneath. His muscles ripple with unrestrained emotions, and sweat beads on his brow as he snaps his hips into her.

“I don’t want to hear it,” he mutters. “I don’t want to hear that I look like shit. I don’t want to hear you ask me why I’m angry as if it’s some fucking surprise to you.” With each thrust it’s somehow more intense, the friction and heat between them growing exponentially. Her hands find his hips as he pistons into her, scrambling for purchase on flesh that’s now slick with sweat. “Of course I’m fucking angry,” he hisses. They’re face to face, inches apart. “I’m angry that-- you’re gone-- I can’t--” he lets out a strained noise that sounds almost like he’s in pain, his abs clenching as he holds himself back. “He can’t make you feel like this... he can’t...”

His hand is still clamped over her mouth, and she breathes through her nose, the restriction of air making her heart speed up with adrenaline. He fucks her deep, and it takes more of a toll on him than she knows it should. The way he’s sweating, the way his face is still twisted with anger and anguish and desire, the way his free hand grips her waist possessively as he ruts into her-- it’s not the physical exertion making him act like this. He’s genuinely upset in a way that he’s never let her see before. “Sylus,” she pants, her orgasm building deep in her core, like a coil of fire. As if the noise triggers his memory that his hand is still over her mouth, he removes it suddenly, holding her waist instead. He looks away briefly, eyes finding where their bodies connect instead, eyes black with lust as he thrusts into her. She can see the way he’s starting to go quiet, the way his rhythm is staggering. She knows he’s close too.

“Do you still love me?” He blurts out, still not meeting her eyes.

She doesn’t expect the question, and she doesn’t know how to respond. She evaluates a thousand possible answers at once, her brain overloaded with pleasure and confusion.

His head falls, weak, as he continues rutting into her. “P-please...” he says, his voice breaking.

She’s stunned. Almost as a reflex, she sits up a bit, gaze lacing with a newfound concern. “Sy...?”

“Say it,” he groans, his pace becoming more erratic, the unpredictability of it driving new spikes of pleasure through her. “Say you--”

“I love you,” she whispers softly, before she can stop herself. “I love you, Sylus.”

His body hunches over as he comes, as if on command at her words, and her own orgasm follows quickly, her hands seizing the sheets for a moment in a brutal grip before latching on his waist again. She gasps, holding him close, her legs instinctively wrapping around him as she feels his warmth fill her, feels his body jerk with exertion and pleasure. Her hands find his face, cupping his jaw as he weakly thrusts himself through the aftershocks, his arms shaking with the effort of holding himself upright over her.

The moment flickers with a liminal quality, and she feels like she’s trapped in limbo, some hellish purgatory of confused emotions. She’s said those words she can’t take back now, and now the two of them are floating in the dead space, less than lovers, a lot more than friends. He’s weak in her arms now, completely undone, whatever mask he once wore in pieces, ground to dust under the weight of her confession. He lies there atop her for a minute that feels like an hour, as she strokes his hair, confused by her own tenderness but unable to hold it back. And then he tears himself away from her. He’s buttoning his pants, pulling on his sweater, wiping a wrist across his brow and readjusting his glasses. It’s as if they hadn’t done what they just did, like they’re strangers again. She lies there almost in shock still, attempting to cut through the foggy haze of afterglow and form more coherent thoughts.

“I have to go,” he mutters under his breath, his voice still betraying some of the turmoil in him. It’s softer than he usually sounds, and more uncertain.

At his words, she snaps out of it. “Wait,” she blurts. “We-- we need to talk about this. You can’t just go after that!”

“I have to.” He says quickly, organizing his messy hair in the mirror. “Don’t have time.”

“Don’t have the time?!” She says incredulously. “You can’t treat this like some one night stand!”

“I never said that,” he mutters, looking at her. His eyes drift down her body, to her entrance, staring at the evidence of their encounter. She flushes, clamping her legs shut. Sylus clears his throat. “I never said it was,” he repeats. “I... I’ll call you. We can talk later.”

“When later?” she says hoarsely.

“When I can,” he replies, tone smoother now, regaining his usual impassioned quality. She notices, and it pisses her off. “You can’t just do what you always do,” she snaps. “You can’t just run away again and act cold. Like this doesn’t matter.”

He pauses in the doorway, and exhales a small sigh. “It matters,” he says quietly.

And then he’s gone.

#cat writes ✩#sylus #love and deepspace #lads sylus #lads #sylus x mc #l&ds sylus #qin che #cat writes #sylus qin #lads fanfic #lads smut #lads angst #sylus angst #lnds sylus #sylus love and deepspace #sylus smut #songfics

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wstviewvidal · 8 months ago

Text

goodbye- w. maximoff

pairing: fwb!wanda x reader

summary: wanda tries to mend what was broken

a/n: here is the last installment of my first story, breakfast birthday goodbye! thank you all so much for the support you’ve shown the first two parts as well as the hc’s! it means the world to meeeeeee i love u guys soooo much!

minors do not interact

wanda never meant for everything to go down the way it did. scratch that, she never wanted any of this to happen. the ignored calls, the short texts, you avoiding her at your group’s weekly dinner.

she didn’t want that at all, and it was eating at her insides knowing that you are out there somewhere thinking that she wanted nothing to do with you, that she wasn’t serious about you.

it was the exact opposite, actually. you never leave her mind and she often finds herself texting you with random updates throughout her day just so she can end up calling you and hearing about whatever you have to say.

but now it’s been a week since the party and you’ve yet to actually have a full conversation with her. you don’t text her, only replying to her with a short and simple response when she sends you a message first.

she’s lost countless hours of sleep and finds it hard to make herself eat normal meals. the bags under her eyes have darkened and she’s become a hollow shell of herself, one she can’t even recognize in the mirror. everyone’s noticed it too, and it’s getting hard to ignore.

wanda prides herself on her incredible work ethic and her ability to do her job well beyond expectations, but for the past week even her team at work has noticed that she’s been off her a-game.

wanda hasn’t slept, and you could tell. she’s avoided every every attempt to rest or eat. only throwing herself into her work, which was futile because in the back of her mind was you. the ache of losing you and know you were out there hating her.

it’s gotten to the point where her boss has offered her to take the rest of the week off to recuperate over whatever happened that pushed her down. bad thing is, wanda said no and now she’s stuck thinking about you at her desk.

she turned down the offer, ignoring how badly her body is begging her to take the rest. work is the only thing keeping her mind off of you— or at least trying to.

she can’t get the look on your face out of her mind. the look at showed everything. the way your body looks exhausted, as if it had been fighting. worst of all, she saw every ounce of hurt in your eyes— it confirmed everything.

the look in your eyes, the hurt in your voice, the way you avoided her for the rest of the night at the party.

that’s how she knew you loved her back. and that was meant to be your final act of love— leaving her.

but wanda wouldn’t accept that.

wanda thinks of her future often. how she wants to open up her own firm, how she wants to have a decent sized house— no more than twenty minutes away from the city, the amount of kids she wants to have, you, you, you.

in every different imaginable scenario she’s imagined for herself, in every different future she’s envisioned, you’re always there. there’s no version of herself she can imagine without you.

which is why she’s suddenly found herself outside of your house in the middle of a thunderstorm at 8 at night.

she knew this was inappropriate and a setup for failure but she couldn’t go another hour not at least trying. she’s gone too many days with her anxiety eating away at her.

she knew that you loved her— hell, you basically confessed it to her the night you were drunk in her car. it’s been so long since then and she’s had to watch you date other people despite having confessed your true feelings.

so, logically, wanda had to force herself to ignore the confession and start to date other people as well.

but wanda knew they could never be you. no matter how hard she tried to make herself like the other girls, she always wished it was you she was holding at night— not them

as wanda stood outside your gate, she couldn’t help but recall when she went to go see you at work after you broke up with a fling.

and unfortunately for wanda, this was after you confessed. she had to sit there and console your crying eyes all while knowing the both of you had reciprocating feelings for the other.

wanda parked her car a few spots away from the main entrance and fixed her appearance before grabbing the takeout food she had brought for the two of you to share.

she sat in her car for a few minutes, trying to focus on her breathing and calming the nerves in her body. trying to rehearse things to say to say to you in front of her mirror, she looks over her appearance and fixes her makeup slightly.

i mean, what is she supposed to say to the girl she’s in love with who just broke up with someone she was dating? yay, now let’s get together? no. wanda had to be a supportive friend— no matter how badly she ached for more.

getting out of her car, she slowly walks up to the main entrance. as she walks in, she’s hit with the familiar smell of the air freshener the company uses and it gives her a small boost of confidence.

stopping to say hi to natasha before going into your office, she greets her.

“hey nat,” wanda says softly while peering into natasha’s office.

both wanda and natasha were familiar with each other through you and had no issue having conversations without your company, they were comfortable with each other.

natasha looks up from her work and up to wanda, a slight surprised smile on her face. she had a feeling wanda would show up for you, just unsure of when.

“hey,” she replies, “she’s in her office. she could really use the pick me up.”

wanda nods in understanding, “i know, she’s been down recently. brought her some food in case she needed it.”

natasha smirks softly and whispers lowly, “if you’re going to continue being a girlfriend to her, you need to make it official before somebody else does.”

wanda freezes. did natasha know about you two? surely you wouldn’t tell her anything, but why else would she say that?

wanda gives an awkward chuckle and walks off in the direction of your office, replaying natasha’s words and how she had a knowing look on her face as she said that.

slowly peering into your office, she knocks softly, “hey, pretty girl”

looking away from your desktop, you see wanda dressed in your college t-shirt and a pair of jeans while holding a takeout box from one of your favorite restaurants.

your heart swoons at the pet name, as well as the smile on her face. this isn’t the first time wanda’s shown up to your job unannounced. in fact, she does this at least a few times out of the month.

she insisted that it was her biggest priority to make sure you were taken care of.

she walks over to your desk and gives you a small kiss on the forehead and a rub on the back.

“you feeling okay?” wanda’s voice is laced with concern and love. it filled your stomach with butterflies.

truth is, you were actually feeling content after the break up. you constantly felt a weight on your chest while you were in that relationship. really, you could hardly call it a relationship. it lasted less than a month and you were happy it was over.

everytime you two went out, you always thought about how wanda would be acting if if was her you went out with instead. no matter what, you always had her in the back of your mind and you felt guilty for it.

shrugging softly, you lean into wanda’s side, enjoying how she’s giving you this soft attention. you really should be honest with her and tell her you’re fine but the fact that she’s being so sweet and attentive, it really makes you want to play into this facade just so she can continue being sweet to you. wanda tightened her hold on you and cooed softly.

wanda knew though. normally when you’re down and out of it, you hardly ever do your makeup. the way you speak is a bit more dragged out, the way you even look at her is different when you’re down.

wanda knew you were okay the second she got close to you, but how could she pass up an opportunity like this to hold you? she would take any excuse to touch you and make you feel happy. she knew she was in love with you, has known it for quite some time now. however, acting on it is a whole other story.

“i got you some food,” wanda runs her fingers through your hair softly, “i want to make sure you eat.”

wanda watches you as you nod softly and look up at her with a happy look on your face. yeah, she’s in love with you. no doubt about it.

you can’t help but immediately let out a soft giggle as you see how she looks at you. you two have known each other for years and she never fails to make you feel cared for.

what would it be like if you two stopped dancing around your feelings for each other?

wanda pulls out the food and you can’t help but swoon all over again. wanda knew your order, down to what you want put on the side instead of in the dish, even the sauces and other condiments. no one has ever known you like this.

the two of you ate for the next hour and a half. you asked her how work was going, her brother, what she’s doing for the holidays. the rest of the world ceased to exist for that hour and a half, and it didn’t feel like a lunch break. it felt like something you could get used to doing at home together.

the two of you existed in each others presence for that lunch break. maybe that was when you realized you truly were in love with her. or maybe it was an accumulation of things, but after that day you knew for a fact that wanda could be the one for you.

wanda walked slowly to your front door, her feet feeling heavy. she could hear her heartbeat, she could feel the blood moving around in her body. hell, she swears she can even feel her white blood cells. for the first time since she’s known you, she was terrified of speaking to you.

the rain soaked through her clothes and clung to her body. her usual soft brown hair was now black and matted with all of the rain water in it. she was freezing, but she didn’t care. each drop that fell onto her body only served as a reminder of all the things she’d never said to you.

every instinct in her was telling her to turn around and bolt, to run and not look back.

but the rational side of her told her that it was now or never. this was her last chance. if she ran, she’d never see you again.

she knew that the longer you two went without talking, the more likely it is that you’ll shut down and block out every memory with wanda from your mind. she knew that she needed to talk to you— and it had to be now.

before getting to your house, she stopped by a near by store to get you flowers. this wasn’t the first time she’d done so. in fact, the florist practically knew all about her love for you since it was all wanda could talk about when she went to go pick up your customized bouquet.

this time, however, it was terrifying knowing that there was a chance that this could be the last time she’d be giving you flowers. she knew you were stubborn and once you sat in your thoughts for too long, there was no way of getting you to turn back on it.

had wanda waited too long to speak to you? are you going to turn her away once she gets to your front door? is this going to be the last time she would see you again?

wanda stands in front of your door way, looking disheveled and drenched in rain. the roses she bought for you look worse for wear, but she couldn’t imagine coming to you empty handed. she needed to have something in her hand to help calm her nerves at least.

by the time she’d reached your door, she was shaking. but not out of cold, out of fear and desperation.

knocking on your door, wanda’s heartbeat quickens and for a split second she considers bolting and never coming back.

but the door opens.

and there you are, and somehow in the midst of all the chaos between you two, wanda thinks you look as beautiful as ever.

you look at wanda with an incredulous look, almost telling yourself you’re imagining her here at your doorstep.

you start, “wanda, i don’t think th-“

“no,” wanda says sharply, almost too firm and pushes past you and into your house. her breathing is shallow. it wasn’t from the rain though, it was from the years of unspoken truths, missed opportunities. she needed it out in the air.

wanda’s tone and demeanor momentarily stun you. she has always bent on anything you say and rarely interrupted you when you spoke.

after slowly closing the door behind her, you follow her further into your house. your heart is beating and you can’t help that worry she may get sick being drenched in all the rain.

wanda now is in the middle of your living pacing from one end of the room to the other, clutching drenched and withered red roses in her hands. she looks like she’s on the verge of passing out and you’re immediately worried that she very well could drop on your floor.

“wanda, i think you need to sit down.. let be get you a towel,” you say softly while waking towards her slowly, like she was a cat that could run off at any second.

“no,” she says quickly, now stopping and facing you, “you don’t get to kick me out or walk away this time. you can’t shut me out, not after everything. i know i hurt you— us, but i can’t just walk away without telling you everything.”

wanda rushes her words out, but not faltering once in her firm presence. her voice is laced with desperation and you can literally see her hands shaking.

you can hear a small waver in her voice, one youre not used to. wanda’s body language screams terrified and anxious, but her eyes scream with something much louder: resolve.

you can’t help try to hold back a smile at how you can see the emotion in her eyes. wanda’s eyes speak so much louder than her voice could ever, and you have always loved it so much. it’s how you two could communicate with one another from across the room.

you stand silent and nod, unsure of what to do.

“i understand how it looked. at the party, i mean. the girl there wasn’t anyone i knew, or even want to get to know for that matter. it was just a way to help me pass the time at the party, no matter how nasty that sounds,” wanda begins rambling and you can slowly see the confidence wear off. she pinches the bridge of her nose. this was already off to a bad start.

she had practiced this so many times over the past three hours and none of it was coming out how she wanted it to.

“she wasn’t you,” her voice breaks softly and her words make you freeze.

your heart beat quickens. what does she mean? maybe she’s just trying to make nice and keep the agreement going, it can’t mean that you think it means.

you try to interrupt her, “wanda-“

“i said let me ta-“

you raise your voice and look at her pointedly, “you are in my home and i will speak if i choose.”

wanda feels like a child being scolded.

with a soft and gentle voice, you apologize, “that night, my birthday. seeing you with that girl made me realize we’ve had this whole friends with benefits thing go on too long. it’s gotten in the way of our personal lives and for the sake of our future partners, we need to cut it off.”

you force it out, not sounding confident at all. although you had put much thought into it, it pained you to say it aloud to her. to watch her face drop, to actually see how your words affected her.

tears well in wanda’s eyes, spilling over with a soft, heartbroken cry. this wasn’t what she came here for. she didn’t come here so you could shut her down before even trying to tell you she loved you.

shaking her head and clearing her throat, wanda walks closer to you.

“you don’t get to cut this off without at least having a proper conversation with me,” wanda chokes out through sobs, wiping her tears angrily, “you can’t just throw me away like that.. please”

the silence between the two of you causes the atmosphere in the room to thicken.

hearing her pleading voice, the way she’s gripping onto your shoulders tightly as it’s the last time she’ll touch or see you again— you can’t help but try to fight tears.

in fact, it very well may be the last.

you shake your head, you had thought this over and realized that if wanda didn’t reciprocate the same feelings for you— it’s best if you let her go.

it had become a never ending cycle of stringing you along with no end in sight.

but if it meant nothing to wanda, why would she be here begging and crying for you?

haphazardly, you throw caution to the wind and decide that if this is the last night you’ll see wanda, you may as well lay it all on the table.

you pull away from wanda, raising your voice slightly, “do you have any idea what it took for me to finally accept that this, us, would be a never ending cycle? that it’s only a game of almost? i can’t keep waiting for you, for someone who’s just going to treat me like a place holder for another girl who won’t even last a month and a half?!”

you swallow tears and try your best to sound as firm as possible, “i sat around for all this time just watching you be with other people. giving them the affection i so badly wish you would reserve only for me.”

wanda’s eyebrows furrow at your insinuation that she only every treated you like a pit stop.

anger builds inside and she can’t help but scoff, “are you fucking kidding me? i treated you like a place holder? there’s no way you’re being serious right now.”

her scoff and rough voice cause you to turn back on your heel, defensiveness and frustration seeping through your veins.

“yeah, a goddamn pit stop, wanda. you came around, got me fucking wrapped around your finger and made me fa-,” you almost said it, “you had me wrapped around your finger. i was always there when you called, like a damn fool!”

wanda couldn’t believe what she was hearing. you were acting like she was some kind of person who viewed you as a fool. she was helplessly in love with you, and this is what you saw her as.

running a hand through her hair in hopes of helping herself calm down, she exclaims, “do you really think this was one sided?! i had to watch you date other people too! i wasn’t the only one who dated! after that time you got drunk and i had to take care of you, i couldn’t stop thinking about you saying you wished we could be more! and then i had to carry on with my life like you hadn’t told me you wanted something more with me.”

wanda swallows hard before the words spill out—the night you told her you wanted more. she never wanted to tell you about that night, for fear of running you off.

it was now or never, she had to tell you.

you freeze, what night is she talking about? the weight of her words finally hit you, and it feels like the world has shifted. you search her face, like the answer you’re searching for is written on her forehead.

wanda sighs and rubs her face, “i’m sorry. you got drunk a while back and told me you wanted more. i never told you because i knew it would send you running off, and i couldn’t bare the thought of losing you. it was better to have you like this, no matter how much it hurt, than to not have you at all.”

the rain seemed to be the only sound in the house. the soft thuds of the branches outside hitting the side of the roof are all you two can hear. you stare at each other, for the first time with uncertainty as to what’s next for you two.

wanda walks slowly closer, stopping a few feet in front of you, “do you really think i wanted this to be one sided? i thought that by holding back and keeping my feelings to myself, it was the only way i’d still be able to have you in my life.”

you stare at her as you slowly understand what she’s trying to say. she loved you back.

“i never wanted you to feel that way,” barely above a whisper, “and i’m so sorry that i made you feel that way. it was never my intention to make you feel like you were anything other than my first priority. i only every wanted you, only you. i found myself looking for you in every person i met because i was afraid that if i told you i loved you, you’d run away. if having you meant keeping my feelings to myself, i would make that sacrifice because i couldn’t fathom the thought of you. no longer being in my life.”

you stay silent, her words echoing in your head. wanda loved you back? you can see her hands shaking and the insecurity in her eyes. her hands are shaking and the petals on the roses are falling off slowly with the weight of the water droplets on them.

following your eyes, wanda remembers she got you roses.

she speaks softly, almost afraid to speak to you, “i brought you these. i’m sorry they’re not that pretty, they got kind of messed up with the rain and me squeezing them so tight.”

wanda speaks nervously, shyly and you can’t help but frown at her demeanor. she’s no longer the confident person you know. right now she looks like an insecure woman who’s been rejected by someone she’s been in love with for years.

you gently reach out for the flowers, still shocked by the revelation wanda’s revealed to you in the matter of fifteen minutes.

you hardly register that she’s leaving your home with a new weight on her chest and an empty feeling in her heart.

wanda took your silence as the final answer she’d been dreading. rejection. wanda thinks you don’t love her back. the silence in the room weighed on her like a death sentence and she was forced to walk away— heartbroken and alone.

the sound of her car door being shut pulls you out of your stupor and you realize what this means— what wanda’s departure means.

this can’t be the end.

with adrenaline coursing through you, you throw the door open. you rush out of your house and just before she leaves your drive way, you call out for her.

wanda, as if hoping you’d chase her, drives her car back into your drive way and parks. wanda looks anywhere but you, as if afraid the next thing you’ll tell her is to never come back. her hands grip at her steering wheel tight enough to the point her knuckles turned white. she’s terrified.

stepping outside of her car, she walks up to you. her hands are shaking and you can see that her eyes are red rimmed from all the crying she’s done tonight.

your voice is hoarse from the yelling and crying as well, “i’m sorry. i’m sorry it took this long to tell you and im sorry for accusing you of treating me like nothing. wanda, i love you too— i always have. i was terrified of you not feeling the same way so i forced myself to ignore it. i was wrong, i was wrong about everything.”

wanda’s breath stops and her eyes well up with tears again, “please don’t lie to me just for the sake of my emotions.”

you shake your head insistently, “i’m being honest, i swear on everything i love. i love you, i have for a while. i was just scared and i didn’t know you felt the same way.”

“you love me?” wanda’s voice is shaking and she can’t tell if she’s dreaming or already getting sick from standing in the rain for too long.

nodding with a nervous smile, you don’t care about the rain soaking your clothes or the lighting in the sky. all that matters is that you tell wanda how you feel. before time runs out and you lose her for good.

wanda inhales sharply, a look of relief washing over and she lets out a soft laugh. a trembling hand cautiously reaches for your face as her eyes flooded with relief.

“i was scared,” she says through a wet laugh, “i thought that you would run if i told you i was in love with you.. but if you’ll let me, i swear i won’t ever make you feel like a second priority again. you’ve always been the most important thing in my life and i never want you to feel like anything else.”

her words hit you like a rush of warmth, contrasting against the cold rain surrounding you two. you smile widely, your heart overjoyed with the fact that wanda did love you as you did her.

you laugh— a genuine laugh, and before she can get another word out, you pull her into you. you couldn’t waste another second before connecting your lips.

when you two meet, it’s like everything clicked. all the chaos, all the flings, every person annoying you two about getting together, it meant nothing now that you two expressed what you’d been hiding.

you rest your forehead against wanda’s and whisper softly, “we’ve got a lot to figure out now, but this means we’ll do it together.”

wanda nods with a small smile as she looks at you, “yeah, together.”

as you two stand there, both laughing at the dramatics of it all, you can’t help but let out a sigh of relief, one you’ve held for years. wanda was finally yours and you knew then and there that all of the missed opportunities and lack of truths only led you to her.

ignoring the messiness and the lack of perfection, it was real.

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