#( but he’s always surrounded by wine glasses )

[getaapologist]

The Tension and the Terror............Part XIV

Pairing: Emperor Geta x OFC (extremely loosely, character is named but otherwise not described besides hair length)

Summary: With everything so precarious, Macrinus feels the tension in the palace. A sign from the gods steers him to the conclusion of this long, protracted series of events.

Warnings: violence, death, 18+ only.

Word Count: 4.2k

Part 14 of 15 (I'm sorry)

[ Part XIII ]

Series Masterlist

A/N: Okay, here it is. I did the best I could with the hole I'd written myself into. I hope you enjoy it. The end might feel final, but we still have another part after this where we get some more much-needed closure. Thank you for following me on this ride.

Geta reclined in his chair, watching the spectacle, isolated, all sound missing his ear. The food tasted like nothing, his head swam, the wine serving as his only comfort. Even Caracalla had retired early, clutching a plate of treats for Dondus. When his boredom grew to a suffocating level, he rose from his seat, coldly dismissing their guests. 

He could feel their stares, could still hear the mutterings in the arena that afternoon. 

A moment of weakness. One he would not suffer from again. He’d promised Macrinus as much. Which was why he’d sent him to retrieve his weakness so she could be dealt with once and for all. How he would do that, he had no clue.

Macrinus had appeared almost anxious after Caracalla’s man took Plautianus down. Flighty and on edge, he carried himself with less grace than usual. He openly watched the guards standing around the Emperors, keeping himself aware of where they were and when they came and went.

Geta was beginning to realize he’d killed an innocent man.

Before the grief of his stupidity could wash over him, the man himself reappeared, glancing around at the abandoned seats, servants already moving in to clear tables and any other flat surface used as one. He kept his commentary to himself and approached Geta.

“Geta, she is gone,” Macrinus spoke, true concern in his voice. It was the most agitated he had ever seen the man. 

“Gone? What do you mean, ‘gone’?” 

Macrinus grew uncharacteristically frustrated. “She was not in her cell. Viggo could not tell me what happened.”

“You seem to surround yourself with incompetence,” Geta commented, his wine dulling his desire to maintain a friendship with this man he no longer trusted.

Macrinus’s eyes flashed for a moment before he corrected himself. “They were given a delivery of wine, your majesty,” he explained. “From the Emperors. You wouldn’t have had anything to do with that, would you?”

Geta relished the way the man seemed to be coming apart at the seams, his perfectly tailored persona cracking just a bit under the pressure. 

“No, but I believe it is customary. To repay the effort spent in readying the prisoners.” Gets finished his glass, setting it down on the table. “Are your men looking for her?”

“As we speak,” Macrinus confirmed.

Geta wasn’t even particularly mad Letha might have escaped. If she meant what she said, was as good as Caracalla seemed to believe, she wouldn’t be returning to collect. She would disappear. He might never see her again. 

That was what bothered him. 

More than bothered him. Filled him with despair. Every second was another opportunity to wallow in that grief. Wine.

“Where is Emperor Caracalla?” Macrinus asked. 

Geta waved him off. “Probably with his concubines, having a much more entertaining evening than I. Besides, what does it matter?”

“If he sent the wine–”

“A customary gift,” Geta reminded him, growing irritated.

“I do believe it was hand-delivered, by that Praetorian always at your brother’s side.”

“Ancus?” Geta laughed. “Yes, well I will instruct that he stick even closer to my brother. No more excursions.”

“That is not what I–”

“Enough, Macrinus. I am tired. You ought to get some rest yourself, it’s been a long day.”

Geta stood and walked away through the eerily quiet hall, wondering if he’d live through the night. He would ask someone to fetch Tegula. He could sit in his study with his best men, to make sure no one got through to his bedchamber.

As he entered his chambers, stripped the day from his skin, and sank into his bed, he realized just how much he missed Letha. He missed the hope she brought him. The possibility of a life steeped in warmth and love. But it had been ripped away just as quickly as it had taken root, and the agony of that still consumed his waking thoughts.

Maybe she escaped the city. He tried to imagine where she might go, with nothing to her name and no family that he knew of left to find. He could picture her so vividly, cycling through the innumerable times he looked at her long enough to memorize the expression on her face. 

She had so willingly accepted her fate, resigned herself to death. It was him that put her in that position in the first place. Her death would surely have shattered what bit of his sanity remained. He did not think of consequence when he ordered the fight to end. He could feel his blood racing through his ears, could hear each beat. It was what she was owed. A life for a life. He hoped she would use it well.

He fell asleep clutching a pillow that still bore some scent of the oil she’d brushed through her hair. Jasmine.

Macrinus paced. And paced. And paced. He could see the hallway that led to the Emperors’ rooms. What he was waiting for, he hated putting words to. To have to admit it, even if only to himself, it was just another indignance dealt by Letha. One he would rise above, once he worked up the nerve.

He was suffering her loss. For all his threatening and scheming, he realized quite quickly he wasn’t cut out for this direct involvement. He needed a new agent, but lacked the connections while stuck inside the palace. He felt the Praetorians watching his every step, could feel the heavy scrutiny from Caracalla at every mealtime. 

It shouldn’t be so difficult, he agonized. If Letha could do it, so can I. 

With renewed purpose, Macrinus strode down the hall, thinking of what he could say if caught. Before he got more than a few steps down the hall, one of the doors opened. He tucked himself behind a column, beside a bust of Caracalla. He peered around the edge of the column and watched.

Someone wearing an elaborate cloak, complete with a hood, stepped out into the hallway, followed by a guard.

Ancus.

“You ought to stay here,” the figure spoke. Her voice was low, hardly a whisper. “I know where it is.”

“You will need someone to check if anyone is there,” Ancus retorted, concerned.

“You said he is sleeping, yes?” she questioned, glancing down the hallway. She turned, about to look in Macrinus’s direction. He tucked himself flush with the wall, out of sight. He could only listen now.

“Yes,” Ancus confirmed. “Tegula is watching over him.”

“Then I will be only a moment. Do not leave Caracalla unattended with that snake about.”

Macrinus’s blood ran cold. 

Letha.

By the time he could hear footsteps retreating, she had already turned the corner, heading deeper into the Emperors’ wing of the palace.

Letha was in the palace. Kept hidden by Caracalla. And Geta didn’t know.

Macrinus felt a weightlessness settle just above his shoulders. Fresh, delicious surprise and hope sprang forth. He hardly resisted the urge to laugh at this fortuitous turn of events. The gods smiled on him in his hour of need.

As he strode away to his chambers, he was already putting together ideas.

Yesterday Morning

“I think I like this one best,” Caracalla commented. He turned to Ancus. “Ancus, what do you think?”

The guard raised his eyebrows, looking over the tunic his emperor held up. “I-I do think it brings out your eyes, Imperator.”

That drew a smile from the smaller twin, and he stared down at the garment. After a moment of thought, Caracalla approached the servant, holding the outfit out for them to take so he could be dressed in it.

“Do I have your loyalty, Ancus?” Caracalla called out. 

Ancus turned his back to his Emperor, pulling at some of his armor. “Of course, Emperor.”

“You will not speak of this to anyone, even Tegula? Or my brother?”

Ancus glanced over his shoulder, concerned, but he didn’t let his eyes focus on anything in particular. “If you will it.”

“Leave us,” Caracalla muttered. 

Ancus waited until the servant left the room to turn and set eyes upon his Emperor. The color did brighten his eyes.

“I intend to save my brother from himself,” Caracalla explained.

“How?”

Caracalla approached a small table. He opened a drawer and produced a linen-wrapped object, setting it in Ancus’s larger hands. 

“We start with this.”

As Ancus realized the genius of Caracalla, he couldn’t help his smile.

“You will help me, Ancus?”

“With anything.”

Later that day

“Letha?” The voice was soft, uncertain. 

She looked up, more than a little shocked to make out the form of Caracalla standing outside the cell in the dark, Ancus dutifully holding a torch up behind him. 

“Caracalla?”

He approached, clinging to the bars of the cell, his jewelry clinking against the rusted metal. “How is your arm?”

She didn’t spare it a glance. “What are you doing here? Where is–”

“My brother is not well.”

Her fear returned, quick as lightning. “What’s happened? Did Macrinus–”

“He’s heartbroken,” Caracalla interrupted. “You, that’s what happened,” he frowned. 

Letha moved to Caracalla, her dirty hands covering his on the bars. He didn’t draw back. “Tell him I’m sorry,” she pleaded. 

“Would you have done it?” Caracalla asked. “Really?”

She shook her head. “No. I… I couldn’t have.”

“And it wasn’t Thraex’s doing, was it?” 

She frowned. “No.” He didn’t seem to need to be told who was truly responsible.

He studied her in the torchlight, mulling things over. Finally, he pulled his hands out from under hers, taking a step back away from the door, closer to Ancus. 

“I’m an Emperor too,” he announced, “and I require your presence. Your sentence is vacated by the order of Marcus Aurelius Severus Antoninus Augustus. The door, Ancus,” Caracalla ordered, beaming. 

Ancus stepped forward, a slight smile tugging at his lips at Caracalla’s display.

Letha released the metal, stepping back away from the door, uncertainty swimming in her gut. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as Ancus unlocked the cell door, pulling it open, leaving it open for her to step out of, free.

“Come back with us. You can stay in my rooms until my brother is less… volatile.”

“He’s angry?” she asked, thinking back to the way he’d looked at her with blazing eyes. Should she be fearful?

“He can’t get over your betrayal, Letha,” Caracalla sighed. “He’s lost a bit of himself. It’s a bit ironic, right? Me trying to look after him?” He let the question hang in the air, but he didn’t need an answer from her, just giggling to himself. “Let’s go. Dondus will be delighted to see you.”

Letha felt touched by Caracalla’s faith in her as he grabbed her hand, tugging her along beside him as he left the cavernous depths where she’d been kept, Ancus following behind.

The next morning, Geta didn’t want to leave his bed. It was an ordeal for his servants to get him up and dressed. There were still more games to attend, more people to meet, and dinner parties to host. He didn’t understand how he was expected to return to the normalcy of their life with all of it so fresh.

His thoughts drifted to Letha. The one stolen night. The happiest he’d been in years. He could pretend she waited for him in his rooms to get him through the day. As he sat and forced food and drink down his throat at Caracalla���s nagging, as he watched men fight for glory in the arena, as if he hadn’t just seen his love almost meet her end in the exact same spot. And even now, guests dwindling, as he was forced to paste on a smile with some of the senators, the play-by-play of the day’s fight boring him nearly to tears, he thought of Letha.

“Excuse me,” Geta muttered, abandoning the glass in his hand on the nearest table before heading to his rooms for a moment of peace.

As he passed Caracalla’s door, he heard a laugh that stopped him dead in his tracks. In a split second he was back in the box, the first day of the games. His eyes lifted just the same, but a door was all that greeted him. Before he could convince himself his sanity was slipping, he knocked loudly.

A few seconds passed, long ones. Geta heard rustling, but not much else.

“Yes?” It was Ancus.

“Can I come in to speak with my brother?” Geta asked, his stomach in knots.

After a moment the door was opened, and Caracalla stepped out, the shreds of a smile still on his face and in his eyes. “Yes, brother?”

“You have guests?” Geta questioned, his voice strained from lack of use and the nerves burning his throat.

Caracalla stared at him before falling into one of his usual giggles. “Just, you know, my usual attendants.”

“I heard a woman’s laughter,” Geta accused. 

A flicker of concern was overridden by sympathy. “Hearing ghosts, brother?”

Geta scowled, waving off his brother’s concern. “Nevermind.”

“Are you alright?” Caracalla asked, a hand on his brother’s arm.

“Just perfect,” Geta ground out before turning and heading back to the party. There wouldn’t be enough wine to get him to forget this.

Macrinus watched Geta return to the party, his troubled state much more obvious. As he downed a glass of wine and requested another, Macrinus knew this was his opportunity.

“That was close,” Caracalla sighed, looking up to where Letha was currently stepping out from behind a large curtain panel, her face drawn. “He was so sure it was you.”

“How do you know?” she asked.

“It was in his eyes.”

Letha nodded, sitting on the edge of Caracalla’s unmade bed. “Is it still too soon to tell him?”

“While Macrinus still stays here you are in too much danger,” Ancus spoke up, scratching at his jaw. “He’s supposed to leave once the games are over.”

Letha thought it was amusing how Caracalla and the Praetorian he’d dismissed so readily had truly bonded. There was a glimmer in the Emperor’s eyes as he looked up at his guard. It relieved her to see him happy like this. And Letha did not miss the flush that filled the cheeks of the man anytime Caracalla paid him specific attention.

Oh, Ancus.

The Emperors truly were magnetic.

A small part of Letha wanted to ignore their advice and storm out of Caracalla’s rooms in search of his brother, but she understood their hesitance. And she truly believed her reappearance would not be met with joy. She wasn’t sure she wanted to feel that agony so soon. 

“Well, I need to go out and show my face some more, but we’ll be back in a bit. Keep Dondus company for me.”

“I will, Caracalla,” Letha promised, looking down at the small monkey pulling at her dress. “We’ll have our own party, right Dondus?” She got a squeak in return as he climbed to her shoulder.

Geta walked further into the gardens, another night coming to a close, the day weathered by some miracle. He wasn’t drunk, just comfortable, warm. He could allow himself this, now that their guests were gone. His feet led him, no destination in mind. Still, tragically, that jasmine-smothered statue came into view and he took another long sip of his wine to try to swallow down the confusing slurry of emotions.

He found himself leaned back against it once again, trying to remember, wishing he could have done something to help her. If she’d just trusted him enough to tell him, he would have protected her. He would have shielded her from Macrinus, he wouldn’t have told another soul, his selfishness overriding duty. 

He pressed his own palm to his chest, over his heart, his eyes closing to avoid the welling of emotion, the pressure behind his eyes, the knot in his throat.

“Brother?”

Geta stood up straight, shaking off his melancholy. “‘Calla?” He spotted his brother as he walked over, saw Ancus lingering by the stairs, a good distance away.

“You look sad.”

Geta scoffed. That wasn’t the half of it. “It’s fine.”

“You haven’t been yourself lately.” 

It irked Geta that he wasn’t allowed to feel the wealth of emotions in his chest without someone having something to say about it. Everyone else was allowed their moods and frustration, but if he felt something so strongly… He felt like he wasn’t being allowed to mourn. Because that’s what it was, mourning.

“Emperors, how fortuitous,” Macrinus spoke, disrupting the calm that the gardens granted. 

Caracalla made no effort to mask the shift in his expression, annoyance obvious.

Geta stepped away from the statue, gesturing to Macrinus with his cup. “Something you need?” 

“Oh, no,” Macrinus smiled, a return to form after stumbling through the last couple of days. “I just wanted to thank you both for your hospitality.”

Geta watched him, the relaxed lilt to his voice concerning.

Caracalla groaned in frustration. “Yes, yes,” he muttered. 

The impolite response didn’t deter Macrinus, not for a moment. Geta should have known then that whatever he was about to say stood to derail the entire day. But he didn’t, instead shooting his brother a scolding look.

“I have not had the opportunity to meet your other guest. She seems to avoid parties, meals, games…”

“We have no other guest, Macrinus,” Geta explained, quite confused. He looked to Caracalla, surprised to see him clammed up. “Brother?”

“Should someone go fetch her?” Macrinus suggested, eyes fixed to Geta. 

“No,” Caracalla insisted. 

Geta looked to his brother, concern growing. “What did you do?”

Caracalla’s frustration grew under the intense scrutiny. “Neither of you can be trusted with her!”

Geta felt overwhelmed. There was no way. “You lied to me?” he questioned, feeling faint. 

“You are not in your right mind,” Caracalla accused.

“So it is I who cannot be trusted?” He couldn’t help his frustration.

“For all we knew, you would kill her!”

The glass collided with the stone, shattering. Geta still spoke, though Caracalla paid him no attention, his eyes glued to the shards littering the grass. “You know nothing.”

At the commotion, Ancus approached, a protective hand pressed to Caracalla’s shoulder as he took in Geta’s affected state. 

“Ah, here she is. The search is over, your majesties. Here is your traitor.”

Geta’s heart stopped. He felt each agonizing second it took for him to turn, to see Letha being led into the gardens, Macrinus’s man keeping a tight grip on her arms. The sight drove a spike of anxiety into his chest. 

Letha didn’t struggle, she kept her eyes trained on Macrinus, wondering what was coming next. 

“What a reunion,” Macrinus chuckled, rubbing his hands together. “Didn’t you have some justice to dole out, Geta?” At that, Macrinus approached Letha. A sword was produced, and Macrinus held it to her throat. “How did you put it? A weakness, to be dealt with once and for all?”

Letha’s eyes met his, and Geta felt tears coming as he took in her fearful expression, the cut across her cheek, the bruising.

“Stop,” he ordered, approaching them, his hand held out for the sword.

Macrinus leveled the sword at Geta, the flat of the blade smacking his open palm. “I don’t think so.” 

Geta recoiled, withdrawing his hand. 

“I didn’t expect this,” he admitted, gesturing between Geta and Letha. “I should have, and I have paid for that mistake, but I will not make it again.”

Geta bit back his protest as Macrinus reached over, his hand squeezing Letha’s bandaged shoulder tightly enough to bruise. The cry she let out wounded him.

“I should thank you, Caracalla,” Macrinus smiled. “Up until last night, I was so sure I’d wake up in a cell myself. But the gods have other plans for me. They sent me this solution as a sign of their unwavering support. It could not be anything else.”

“The gods do not care for you,” Letha spat. She struggled beneath Macrinus’s grip, trying to wriggle her shoulder free. 

Viggo renewed his grip on her wrists, scowling at her, as Macrinus brought the sword back to her neck, a warning. She stilled.

“Ancus,” Caracalla muttered, his voice betraying his fear. 

Geta felt trapped. They were all in danger, all caught off guard.

“I will tell you of my plan,” Macrinus grinned. “It’s too good not to share it. While not perfect, I do believe it is the best anyone could do in these circumstances.” He let the blade leave Letha’s neck, pacing leisurely before them. “It would seem that Letha here, having escaped, decided she would come back and finish the job,” Macrinus gestured to her with the sword tip. “Finding the two of you here in the gardens, after felling him, of course,” he gestured to Ancus, “she made quick work of you. And I, hearing the commotion as I just so happened to be passing by, came upon this grizzly scene. Fortunately for you both, I was able to avenge you. And with your last, gasping breath, you named me your successor,” he spoke, moving the sword over to press against Geta’s neck. “Go on, say it.”

Geta said nothing.

Macrinus’s grin grew, the sword pressing closer to where his neck met his shoulder, the razor sharp bite of it beginning to draw blood. Letha let out a cry, struggling with Viggo. 

As Macrinus turned to ridicule Viggo, a jovial jab that he seemed to be having trouble restraining a woman, a hand gripped Macrinus’s wrist, pushing the sword away from Geta’s neck. 

Macrinus whipped his head around, eyes falling to Ancus, indignation settling in on his face for only a moment before a dagger pushed through the ornate white robes he wore, sinking into his stomach, pushing the breath from his lungs. Geta’s eyes fell to the hands wrapped around the hilt, seeing his brother’s ornamental jewelry.

Geta was pushed back as Ancus stepped in to shield Caracalla, ripping the sword from Macrinus’s hands.

Still partially frozen, Geta looked over to where Letha was, or had been. His feet moved him before his brain could formulate a plan.

Letha was on the ground, struggling against Viggo, the base of her palm pushing at his chin, her other hand trying to pull his hands away from her throat. He seemed to have the strength of ten men, knowing death awaited.

Her throat burned, the pressure in her head from the buildup of blood, her circulation cut off, overwhelming. Spots filled her vision, and she wondered if this would be it, finally. She should’ve been happy, she got all her wishes. Macrinus dead, or in the process of dying, and she got to see Geta one last time. It was all she had asked for. But the desire to remain, to live, breathed life back into her muscles.

Letha abandoned her efforts to claw his hands away, instead opting to make a firm fist and punch as hard as she could into his groin. Viggo let out a choked gasp, one of his hands moving down to shield himself from further attacks, a reflex. The vice around her throat lessened and she could get some air. As Letha was able to suck in a halfway decent breath, Viggo was ripped off of her.

The unnerving sound of a fist meeting Viggo’s face filled the normally tranquil gardens. Letha sat up, surprised to see Geta leaned over her attacker, one of his knees pressing hard into Viggo’s stomach, a hand gripping his clothes while the other repeatedly punched his now-bloody face, rings and all. 

Letha tamped down the satisfaction she felt, calling it relief, and moved over to Geta. She pulled at his shoulders, trying to get him to stop, telling him it was enough. He didn’t listen at first, but she pressed herself to his back, pulled his arm to her, her hand wrapping around his wrist. 

“It’s done,” she soothed, inspecting his hand, seeing the bite of his rings in his own skin. It would need the attention of a healer and it would surely be swollen purple in the morning.

“Letha,” he whispered, his eyes closed as he turned his head, pressing his forehead to hers. 

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, her throat still quite tender. 

“Mmmh, no,” he managed, shaking his head. 

“Emperors?” 

Praetorians were upon them, forcing everyone apart, taking stock of the damage done to their rulers, if any. Letha stayed sitting on the ground beside Viggo, not sure what might happen next. 

Before long, Tegula himself appeared, speaking with the twins, and then Ancus, who delivered a succinct version of events that included a charitable explanation that Macrinus had masterminded the entire thing, even down to Letha’s inclusion, implying that she was innocent after all. 

She didn’t dare correct him, her eyes fixed on Geta where he stood. His knuckles were stripped of his rings, the healer dabbing at the small cuts. Geta winced each time, eyes falling to his injured hand for a moment before he continued watching Ancus recap their evening, as if surprised by it.

Caracalla stood beside Ancus, quite close, certainly closer than an Emperor would be to his guard, rubbing his fingers together, staring down at the blood on them with soft fascination in his eyes, his other hand still clutching the dagger. Plain, military issued, it looked like. 

Letha was brought to her feet as someone inspected her neck, commenting on the redness around her throat. Geta looked over, the people and the circumstances creating a great gulf between them that he couldn’t yet ford. There would be business to attend to before she would get her chance to speak to him again. 

It gave her something to look forward to. 

[ Part XV ]

[endawn]

he was so stressed during the winter palace chapter because what do you mean he cannot simply eat the orlesians

[lovieku]

INTRO ⋆ 정국

you’re jeongguk’s secret santa this year, so you give him the best gift he’ll ever receive.

⋆⁺₊❅. 1/6 from christmas & chill

pairing virgin!jk x fem reader

genre smut, fluff, friends to lovers, first time

warnings painfully oblivious jk, even more painfully oblivious oc, mutual pining unlike anything you’ve seen, jk being a hot nerd ceo who’s loaded rich and unaware of his potential, please imagine him as nam joohyuk in start up, oc just creaming her pants for jk, hand job, lowk strip tease, dry humping, nipple play (m&f), unprotected p in v sex, creampie, jk is so needy and impatient but also very polite, smut is kinda rushed because well… it’s his first time! sawrry! also i open gifts on xmas eve please don’t come for me and my traditions (it’s lich just because i’m impatient)

word count 8.3k

author’s note hello hello hello!!! i’m so nervy to post this because it’s what finally inaugurates c&c!!!! i hope it can be a pleasing (intro)duction to the series hehe… either way you’ll get something totally better from miss lyssa tomorrow so stay tuned Wink 🩷 luv u always

banner by the talented @awrkive ⟡ ݁₊ .

Secret Santas have become the only way you’ve been able to deal with Christmas. When it comes to gift-giving, you’re embarrassed to admit that creativity in that department doesn’t exactly come naturally to you.

You try your best, truly. But you either end up going over budget, striving to please all your loved ones with unnecessarily expensive gifts which will only leave you with empty hands and an empty wallet, or having your brain completely stop working, if not to come up with the most basic and useless options that will get you forced smiles and polite nods in fake recognition.

It’s exhausting, demoralizing, and frankly, a recipe for holiday burnout.

So when two years ago, on the brink of giving up entirely and seriously contemplating hibernating through winter, your dear friend Jimin swooped in and suggested Secret Santa, it completely reshaped your next Christmases.

Exactly a month before Christmas Eve, you reunite over drinks and food at Jeongguk’s house to draw names. His place always ends up as the default spot for dinners, movie nights, or even football matches. Those don’t usually get the attention of everybody, especially of some of the girls, and it wouldn’t get yours either.

But you never skip game night. Correction, you never miss an excuse to be in Jeongguk’s space, even if it means sitting through 90 minutes of men chasing a ball on a screen. After all, you’re never truly paying attention, always stealing glances at the boy who seems almost even more uninterested than you.

It’s about witnessing him in his house— which, truthfully, is more of a mansion. The spacious, cozy interiors mirror a part of him that’s hard to miss: his perfectionist side, the one that likes to keep things understated but can’t help leaving subtle, telling marks of his presence on everything he touches, is woven into every corner.

Over time, you’ve naturally come to associate the place with holidays, laughter, and celebrations that fill you with a sense of belonging. Being here, surrounded by your closest friend, makes you feel profoundly grateful.

And there’s so many traces of you all, too. The faint wine stain on Jeongguk’s carpet that is only still noticeable if you squint, the one that spilled from your glass when Hoseok’s jokes had you laughing too hard; the long, slim scratch on the kitchen door, courtesy of Eunbi, who thought learning how to balance glasses on her forehead would get one of her coworkers to finally fall for her; the wobbly vase on the coffee table that was knocked over during one of Jimin’s overly enthusiastic attempts to kick a water bottle open.

Watching Jeongguk deal with the chaos you all force into his space might be another big reason why you love being here. It seems to squeeze out his most genuine reactions and quirks, and you can’t help biting your lips at those, almost pornographically so.

For someone who works so hard to appear composed, and who’s also extremely shy and reserved, Jeongguk is hilariously transparent when things don’t go his way. Brows furrowed, as if that’s where he keeps all his control. Although, no matter how flustered he gets, Jeongguk almost never gets choleric. His instinct is never to lash out but to scramble, a picture of barely contained stress insisting that everything is fine.

And the more he insists, the more you find yourself wishing it wasn’t fine. Sometimes, you want to see him lose it— especially at you.

You’ve tried, too. You’ve pushed boundaries, done little things to test the limits of his patience, all for the slim possibility of seeing him crack, just for you. But it never works. The best you get is an awkward smile, maybe a quiet laugh. It’s not nothing, but it’s not what you want, either.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt this crazy about someone before. Not in the way where everything he does sends your brain spinning with possibilities. It’s maddening. His obliviousness is maddening.

Chiefly tonight, when you’re trying extra hard to keep it under control, the whole group gathering in a circle around the bowl that holds all your names, each one carefully folded into a little square, waiting to be drawn.

But when your slim fingers brush against one of the many crumpled pieces of paper and decide your fate, you send a small prayer to whoever might be listening. Please, don’t let it be Jeongguk.

It doesn’t really come off as a coherent request, especially considering how much your body has betrayed you tonight. Your thighs have been pressing together most of the evening, a subconscious reaction every time your gaze wandered — lingered — on Jeongguk’s lower half. Those low, slouchy grey sweatpants, hanging effortlessly off his narrow hips, have been the source of many inappropriate thoughts that you wish would make you grow some shame within yourself. Instead, they only make you grow hotter in your seat.

No, you would love to be Jeongguk’s Secret Santa with the blatant, embarrassingly huge crush you have on him. You think you’d be happy about it in any other universe, except this one.

Jeongguk is difficult. And not because he’s ever been argumentative, looking to start quarrels, never willing to agree or see past his nose. He’s far from those. He’s one of the easiest people to be around, rarely judgmental, even when you were drunk off your mind and you jokingly grinded on very-gay Jimin to make up for your lack of sexual activity. On those occasions, you didn't exactly see judgement in his eyes. Just reticence. Maybe. It wasn’t clear.

What is clear is that Jeongguk is incredibly particular. He’s picky about what he likes and even more so about what he doesn’t, though dislike might be too soft a word. When he hates something, it’s impossible not to know. He doesn’t even try to mask his disappointment.

It’s not malicious, of course. He’s not the type to be spiteful. It’s just how he is, an open book, his expressions giving him away without fail.

It’s one of the many reasons you love watching him, other than hoping your eyes would telepathically convey your undying desire to fuck him and cuddle him close to your chest afterwards. But most of the time, studying the shifts in his features is a way for you to decipher what he’s thinking.

And that’s why this moment feels so high-stakes. The last thing you want is to be on the receiving end of one of Jeongguk’s polite smiles or barely-there nods of acknowledgment, the kind he gives when he’s unimpressed. It would crush you, the ultimate failure in your short-lived career as a gift-giver.

It’s not just that he’s hard to please. Jeongguk is also the last person who seems to need anything. He’s loaded, his success as a game developer has afforded him a life where anything he wants is within reach. And yet, despite his wealth, there’s no arrogance about him. If you didn’t know him so well, you might think he was just another college student scraping by.

Who else but Jeon Jeongguk could walk around in a hoodie and square glasses, looking like he just rolled out of bed, while being the CEO of his own company?

But, of course, none of this is important. Because as you unfold the piece of paper in your hand, it’s there. Jeongguk.

You don’t think you enjoy Secret Santa as much anymore.

With the bowl continuing its journey around the circle, you spend the rest of the game staring holes into the back of Jeongguk’s head, desperately trying to figure out what in the world you could possibly get him. Your monthly budget feels laughable in comparison to his lifestyle, but you’re already prepared to go way over it if that’s what it takes to impress him.

You wonder if he’s as insecure as you are when he quietly unfolds the small, paper square he picked up and scans the name. His bug eyed expression doesn’t hide an evident surprise, the twitch of his eyebrows managing to conceal a possible disappointment.

For someone who’s usually so easy to read, Jeongguk seems uncharacteristically guarded in this moment, and it drives you crazy. You squint at him, frowning as you try to decipher any small detail on his face. Is he annoyed? Or worse, completely indifferent?

Either way, it doesn’t look like a positive reaction. If it ends up being you, you’ll rethink back to this moment and cry yourself to sleep.

With the first step out of the way, the night goes on following its usual rhythm. Only by the end of it, Jeongguk’s space starting to empty, you quietly help him put some order to the mess left behind by a too drunk Hoseok paired with his too drunk best friend Taehyung.

You keep yourself busy with storing some leftover food, managing to keep your tone unbothered when you ask, “Hey, Gguk. Wanna help me with the party planning this year?”

Always obliging to your every request, he only stutters slightly in his movements, the glasses he was cleaning clinking together. He clears his throat, “S—sure. I’ll help you, goldie.” The stammer doesn’t seem to be caused by any kind of hesitation, just an usual consequence to his nature. Reserved, quiet.

You nod, gulping way too loudly at the special nickname he has for you, and both of you keep your focus on your doings instead of witnessing the faint blush dusting your cheeks, “Cool. I’ll text you the details tomorrow.”

Details texted, your efforts to divert the conversation into something remotely playful failed miserably. Jeongguk is painfully formal, methodical as ever, hyper-focused on the party. When you sent him a TikTok you deemed adorable enough to nudge him toward a different matter, maybe hint at the dog being the cutest thing he’s ever seen and that you two should definitely adopt three of them and move in together, he still doesn’t get it.

gguk🤍: Oh… I asked my brother to keep Bam for Christmas Eve. I thought he would be too much of a hassle, especially with Iseul not being fond of dogs.

You had stared at the ceiling for a long moment after reading that text. Jeongguk is endearingly dense, and you don’t mind it most of the time. But it’s starting to cause quiet bursts of frustration when it comes to whatever undefined thing you two have, and what is clearly simmering for the eyes of everybody to see, except his.

You’d thought giving him his first handjob when he quietly confessed he’s never been touched, his voice a tremble in the calm aftermath of a chaotic group sleepover, would be enough to make him see. His quiet whimpers were hypnotizing calls that only you were meant to hear, and your fist pumping his girthy length with intent was speaking all you were afraid to voice.

Jeongguk came hard and unannounced all over your hand, pleasured sounds muffled in the side of your neck, and you’d assured him it was okay; he did good; that you would get something to clean him up. You didn’t sleep that night, and he didn’t either, spending the rest of it next to each other on his couch talking pointless conversation.

If that hadn’t opened his eyes, you were beginning to wonder what would.

“So… Do you have any idea what to gift your person?”

Jeongguk stirs his latte for the fourth time. You’d decided to meet at a café halfway between your cramped flat and his mansion, because it was the easiest way you managed to make your busy schedules merge.

“No, Gguk,” you acknowledge his question without meeting his eyes, focusing on the grocery list on your laptop instead.

What would? You’re starting to think subtlety isn’t cutting it. Maybe it never has. Perhaps the only way to break through that frustratingly thick skull of his is to go full throttle, strip naked right here in the middle of this café and spell it out for him.

Your eye involuntary twitches at the thought in relation to his question. Crazy Christmas gift, you reason as you stare maniacally at your bright screen. Yeah. Totally crazy.

Shaking your head, you can’t resist glancing up at him. The idea doesn’t seem so irrational anymore, not when your insides twist at the sight of his absorbed expression, his brows furrowed as he scribbles out unheard-of maths on a piece of paper to figure out group expenses.

With your chin resting in the palm of your hand, you abandon your pretense of being productive and let yourself watch him work. A teasing lilt slips into your voice as you prod him in your usual way, “Why should I believe you already don’t know who it is?”

He blinks up at you, promptly, like he always does when you speak to him, and he stumbles, “Huh— I don’t—”

“You so do. You probably already guessed it all with your nerdy brain.”

Despite looking mildly offended, his ears turn red anyway, “Nerdy brain—”

“Glasses look cute on you,” that shuts him up; his mouth, his brain. Completely unable to cater to any of their functions.

You smirk at the way he diverts his gaze, pointer finger unconsciously fixing the specs on the bridge of his nose, and you wonder how much longer it’ll take for him to notice that you don’t just go around calling everyone’s glasses cute.

Sighing, you continue, “Anyways. It’s not you.”

“W—what? Is it really not?” When he looks up at you with even wider eyes, you feel bad for lying to him but you still shake your head. He mutters, “Shoot. I was so sure I had it.”

A playful scoff escapes you, “See! You did sit in your nerdy room and tried to guess!”

“Stop calling me a nerd,” it’s a request grumbled in the most adorable way you’ve heard, and there’s no real heat behind it. Especially when he goes back to be exactly what he doesn’t want you to refer to him as, “Well, if it’s not me, it must be Taehyung.”

You pretend to busy yourself with your touchpad as you ponder on his eagerness. Then, you voice the result, “What’s the fun in knowing right now?”

Jeongguk hesitates for a moment too long before admitting, “I don’t know. I guess it makes me less anxious.”

It’s a raw kind of honesty, much like what he was painted all over with when he came from your touch, and it has you shifting your gaze back on him, now absorbed in doodling stylized portraits of Bam right next to numbers and additions.

You don’t know if it’s the hot chocolate still simmering in your tummy, the warmth from the coat laying on your legs, the café’s natural heat or Jeongguk’s proximity, but you buzz with something homely.

Ariana Grande’s version of Last Christmas replays for the third time in a row, and at this point you’re starting to believe it’s a conscious choice, but you don’t mind it.

Jeongguk belongs to the world the soft melody is building, hugged by a woolen white sweater, the wide glass window behind him giving the perfect view to a classic winter scenery, snow softly resting on any surface it finds and unconsciously bringing magic to dullness. Or maybe it’s just him adding that last bit.

You smile at his small confession, reassuring with your tone, almost drowning in the lively chatter of the place surrounding you, “You don’t have to be.”

Jeongguk only nods, tapping the pencil on his temple as he studies what he has so far with sudden doubt. He looks at your laptop, scanning the long forgotten visual board on your Pinterest, then back to his calculations.

Giving one more glance at the screen, he concludes, “By the way, I really don’t think that color would look good in my living room.”

Ugh.

You think you want to strangle him when he deflects so easily from these moments. And mostly, the burgundy he’s so easily refusing happens to be one of your favorite shades. Do your tastes ever match?

God, as much as you want him, you hope he’s not your Secret Santa.

────⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆────

Jeongguk is your Secret Santa.

And on Christmas Eve, he’s pacing the length of his living room back and forth, his socks brushing against the polished wooden floor with each step. You’re supposed to arrive any minute now to help him with the final touches before the others come for dinner, and the idea of having you here alone is enough to make his hands clammy and his thoughts stumble.

The neatly wrapped gift with its shiny red paper sits tucked under the towering Christmas tree, the one adorned in messy decor that his friends jumbled up together. The item hidden inside the bag doesn’t share his anxieties, though he suspects his downstairs neighbour might have caught on to it with the incessant pacing.

When you ring the doorbell he’s jolted out of it and, practically tripping over his own feet, he rushes to the door and yanks it open. He would have let you in just as rapidly if his brain didn’t stop short at seeing you standing there.

You’re cladded in a soft sweater that looks two sizes larger, its beige tones complimenting the warm brown of his own jumper, and your short skirt peeks out beneath its hem, edged with lace ruffles. At your feet, a pair of chestnut Uggs that he can only hope are enough to make up for the cold shivers on your bare legs. Not that he’s staring, so intently he has to gulp down an impulsive thought. No, he’s just a naturally observing guy.

And that brings him to notice that your hands are empty, save for a small purse and a bottle of wine. No bag, no box, no sign of a gift.

When his gaze flickers back to your face, your eyes are wide and darting nervously between his own, narrowed by the frown that he can’t quite hide but bug sized the moment he catches a trace of insecurity in your shaky voice, “Hi.”

It could be the cold causing the brief greeting to tremble, small snowflakes laying on your neatly styled hair, shimmering for a brief moment before melting away. It pulls him out from his unabashed study of you, and he steps aside to let you into his much warmer space.

Your vanilla scent inebriating his senses has him forgetting all about your seemingly non existent gift, and how he suddenly finds himself wishing he truly did get something messed up in his calculations, that you’re not his Secret Santa.

But you are.

Many drinks later, filling up everyone’s stomachs along with shared food and belly laughter, it’s time to exchange gifts and the expression on your face is unlikely anything he’s caught on so far.

A huge contrast to the mellow Christmas tunes indistinctly playing in the background, your eyes are impassive as you word your excuses, “I’m sorry, Gguk. I forgot your gift at home.”

“Oh. It’s okay,” he says quickly, the words spilling out with genuine ease. And it really is okay. He’s not upset— far from it. The thought of you giving him anything at all, even belatedly, is enough to make him feel content.

But now, as the group’s attention turns toward him, his heart races for an entirely different reason. His gift for you, a lavish, over-the-top gesture that far exceeds the modest budget they all agreed on, sits waiting on his lap.

When it finds a new home atop your own crossed legs, you’re eager as you rip the paper, but your eyes don’t follow your movements. Instead, you focus on the nervous boy sitting across from you, your very own Secret Santa who’s monitoring your hands for you while subtly rocking from one side to the other.

His anxiety is endearingly soft, but you can see something more to it, almost an irrational fear of tripping on the wrong step, messing up something that’s supposed to be simple.

You hear it before you see it. The whole room inhales sharply in a collective surprise, with some gasps muffled behind hands pressed to mouths. You scramble for an explanation in their expressions, jumping from one face to the other, stopping on Jeongguk’s own, gaze glued to his fidgeting fingers, head bowed down to his lap.

When you slowly look down at what’s resting on yours, you almost wheeze. If they could, your eyes would leap out of their sockets.

Your palm instinctively presses on your lips as you look between the gift and the gifter in a frantic attempt to catch any sign that this is not what it is. With the music being the only sound eerily filling the sudden silence, you add to it, even if barely, with your voice a whisper, “What is this?”

Jeongguk gulps and finally meets you, “It’s m—my gift for you.”

It’s not like you even opened it yet. But the simple sight of the box had you grasping for support. On the pale, textured surface of the square box, the unmistakable gold lettering is what’s making your orbs shake in confusion: Dior.

You trace the sign with your pointed finger, tilting your head up to look at Jeongguk through your lashes, and you don’t know how else to put it, “Ggukkie… Were you there when we set the budget?”

Jimin butts in with a scoff, “Yeah, that’s like fifteen thousand won multiplied by another fifty thousand.”

Jeongguk doesn’t know what he should say. He’s scared of the deafening silence that follows, the way Jimin’s comment seems to linger in the air, the way you seem to struggle with finding something to say in response.

He begins, tries to, “I—”

“Fuck, Gguk,” the simple sound of your words has his mind spiralling, palms clammy with doubts that question his every choice leading up to this moment, feeling foolish for even thinking this could be right, a shot worth trying. What if you think he’s showing off? Or worse, overcompensating?

But what he fails to notice is the toothy grin that follows your shameless surprise, your fingers gingerly lifting the lid of the box, and really, if only he had the courage to look up at you he’d have avoided the worries.

He misses your reaction at the reveal: the prettiest earrings sit on a soft cushion, gleaming gold with delicate CD initials and cream pearls dangling gracefully beneath them.

“These are the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. I love them. You didn’t have to.”

Jeongguk’s head snaps up. He meets your face painted with the most beautiful grin he’s ever seen you wear, your cheeks burning with red and your nose scrunching as you carefully slip the earrings to take a better look at them. With you, everybody else around him seems in awe, too. Their soft, endeared whispers begin to fill the earlier suffocating silence, melting into a sweetness reserved entirely for Jeongguk.

He exhales quietly, the welcomed warmth in his chest replacing the cold. He admits, no stutter, no fear, just a sheepish smile, “I wanted to.”

Jeongguk really did want to. It felt like his one shot. A desperate, last-ditch attempt at making you see him the way he’s always seen you; a declaration wrapped in gold and pearls.

He wants you to see him as more than the shy, awkward boy who stumbles over his words and blushes too easily. More than the nerd who spends too much time working on equations and codes half the world doesn’t know about. More, just to have you look at him a bit closer.

He wants to be a man, one who badly wants you, in your eyes.

They’re gleaming with adorable excitement as they flicker back to his, sheepishly accompanying your quiet request, “Can you… put them on for me?”

Jeongguk is at your side in no time, handling the earrings with care while trying to keep his usual clumsiness at bay as he fastens the dainty jewels in place. He begins to understand why it’s hard to see him as anything else but gawky when he feels his heartbeat speed up from the simple way his skin is brushing against yours.

Namjoon’s voice cuts through the spell, playful, “Oh, what a pretty princess. Jeongguk truly has an eye for this stuff.”

With the group following with chuckles and mindless banter, Jeongguk feels uncharacteristically bold, gaze fixated entirely on you as he lets himself spill something meant for you only to hear, “I think it’s just you. You’re beautiful.”

You’re clearly caught off guard, and it stings a little when he realizes the only reason he doesn’t get to see you this flustered often is because he’s usually busy being the flustered one. Blinking up at him through your lashes, your laugh comes out a little breathless, and the sweet way you let your cheek rest on your shoulder has him daring to hope.

“Nerd.”

But no. There it is again.

That’s all he’ll ever be in your eyes.

He forces a smile that barely reaches his eyes, but you’re too engrossed with having your pearls admired by the rest of the group to notice. Those weren’t a waste; he would do it all the same. You deserve everything that makes your eyes shine, that brings the corners of your lips into that grin that shakes him, that can ever bring you joy. He just wishes it could bring you more than that; bring you to a bigger sentiment, a bigger realization.

Perhaps that’s why he can’t shake off the awful mood that pervades his senses throughout the rest of the night, the earrings hanging from your ears catching the twinkly, warm lights and mocking him with delighted amusement. There’s nothing else you can do, you nerdy boy.

Perhaps that’s also why, when the house starts to empty and you’re in his kitchen making yourself helpful with dishes, he slips on composure when you accidentally let a glass slide from your dainty hands.

It breaks the moment it meets the ground, and the sound penetrates his ears, both of you jumping at the impact. He hisses, “What— what the heck, ___!”

You’re startled, blinking up at him. It’s not the chaos from the glass, not its tiny pieces covering the floor and reaching your feet. It’s the deliberate frustration of his tone, one he’s never let free, especially with you.

You pant for apologies, but they can’t seem to be let out. Wide eyes jumping between his own bug ones, your brows draw up in shame. It has never been this easy to get him bothered. Hell, you’ve even struggled to.

Jeongguk only sighs, dragging a hand across his nape, and he regrets the quiet sharpness in his voice the second he lets it out, “God. Be more careful next time.”

He’s still quicker than you on his feet, moving to sweep the mess you’ve created before you can even react. You seem to move in slow, infinite motions, kneeling down to pick up the bigger pieces, all while keeping an unusual silence.

He steals a glance up at you, biting his lower pierced lip in sudden guilt, “Are you okay?”

Your hands pause, clutching a fragment of glass as your eyes flicker up to meet his. You nod, distant, and it does nothing to convince him.

He doesn’t even seem to be paying attention to your hesitant confirmation, rather he’s hyper-focused on your fingers, and before you realize the shift in his expression, he alarmedly blurts out, “Goldie. You’re bleeding.”

The sting barely registers for you until his words bring it to your attention. Looking down, you see a sharp, red line running across your finger, small but enough to make Jeongguk spring into action.

You’re lifted off the floor and ushered to the bathroom in fractions of seconds, letting yourself be handled like you don’t own your body. The only thing you want to be aware of is the switch in his behaviour. He’s back to normal once he’s in his quiet bubble of concentration, movements precise as he cleans the barely visible wound and carefully places a band aid over it.

All while he can’t stop apologizing, “I’m sorry for yelling at you. That was not your fault. But, this. This is my fa—”

“Jeongguk, it’s just a scratch.”

The way he meets your eyes with his face drawn tight and brows furrowed makes you rethink your statement. Maybe it’s more than a scratch. Maybe it’s the only thing that snapped him out of his frustrated daze.

“It doesn’t matter. You didn’t deserve that.”

Your first instinct is to giggle; it’s a resonance of the butterflies childishly swarming in your belly from the proximity and his careful words. Both your gazes soften as you accept each other, even the faulted versions of tonight, and a timid smile stretches over his lips.

You hesitate before speaking again, your mouth opening only to close, reconsidering your words; but then you finally let out what you had foolishly planned as your next desperate attempt to cling to him.

“Can you… My car is… Can you take me home?”

What you’re now sure you like the most about Jeongguk is how he caters to your needs before you even have to voice them. The soft kindness in his eyes, the way his body instinctively shifts to act before his mind even fully processes the request. He’s already nodding, ready to make it happen for you.

“Yeah. Of course.”

The heat in his car fans over your cheeks, dusting them with a soft red that has his Adam’s apple bobbing every time he turns to steal glances at you at stoplights. You keep talking, filling the air with contentment about the night’s events, and it’s like that subtle slip of his never happened.

It’s almost too easy to surrender and pretend that everything is fine, that he doesn’t feel the ache of wanting more. If staying a nerd in your eyes means getting to be this close, to hear your laughter, to see the slight curve of your lips as you speak, then maybe it’s enough.

His subtle gestures — adjusting the temperature so you’re comfortable, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter when your giggles spill into the cabin — don’t go unnoticed. They settle into you and have your heart beating anticipatedly.

God, you won’t regret what you’re about to do.

By the time he pulls up in front of your place, you promptly turn to him before he can offer anything else, voice a bit too eager, “Would you like to come inside?”

“Huh—”

“I’ll show you my gift.”

Jeongguk sits on your couch, because you tell him to wait there. And of course, he’s a great listener. Very obedient, willing to follow your every order.

His fingertips drum restlessly on his thighs and he can only busy himself with his surroundings, every detail speaking for you. What’s definitely more prominent is the intoxicating scent of vanilla that clings in the air, of which he hopes his lungs inhale the entirety of, never getting enough of everything that is you.

When you come into his vision again, walking down the stairs in quiet steps, you’re tightly hugged in a trench coat, the textured belt cinched snugly around you and accentuating the small of your waist. Under it, your legs are bare. It has his mouth drying and his legs spreading stiffly on the couch.

He thought he got better at hiding his concerning infatuation. He hopes he did.

That’s why he initially manages to chuckle and attempt a joke, “Are you going somew—”

“Ta-da.”

Jeongguk doesn’t think he’s breathing. He doesn’t think he can even breathe anymore. His blinking fastens, brain stumbling over itself as it tries to make sense of what he’s sitting in front of.

You’ve loosened the coat just enough for the fabric to fall and reveal what you’ve carefully wrapped for him. You’re a gift coming in a red lingerie set clinging to your perfect curves, your boobs deliciously spilling out from the sides of your lace top and the line of your panties thin enough to leave little to the imagination.

He pants, scanning over your body once, twice, three times, questioning if the wine was perhaps laced with stronger substances, “What— What is this—”

“It’s my gift for you. Merry Christmas, Gguk.”

Meeting your face again, he nearly groans. You’re almost bare before him, yet you still sport a crimson blush and your teeth graze your bottom lip in a sheepish smile, in a way that is so achingly you. He can feel himself throbbing painfully in his pants. Thinks he could cum just from this view, tip over the edge without a single touch, no matter how bad he needs it.

“Fuck.”

You’ve barely ever heard Jeongguk curse throughout the time you’ve known him for. He only sometimes reserves that for his monitor, Overwatch games causing his composure to slip in adorable loud whispers.

But it’s like you’ve broken his dam, and he only lets more slip as you walk slowly but certainly closer to him, coat discarded on the floor, “Oh my, fuck. Holy shit. Thank you. Thank you. I— I don’t know what to do.”

It’s a quiet plea, the one that’s hidden in his strained words but clear in his full eyes glazed over with anticipation, his hands hovering uncertainly over his thighs, chest still heaving and struggling with manual breathing. He’s begging to feel deserving of this, to have you prove to him that it’s what you truly want for the both of you, to have you touching him and to be touching you.

He can’t help the moan that escapes him when you position yourself in between his spread legs, bodies close yet not touching, but he’s dying to feel you.

Now your turn to bend at his every request, your head tilts and your smile widens the more he’s forced to crane his neck up to keep your gazes connected, pending off your every syllable, “You don’t have to do anything. Will you let me take care of you?

“Yes, please,” the confirmation is immediate and empty of hesitance. Under you, Jeongguk nods promptly with his lips agape, watering with want when you straddle his lap to sit yourself on him.

He wails, throwing his head back and searching for all the strength it takes from holding back his instinct to snap up against your core, snuggled atop his raging hardness. At his shameless desperation, your giggles fill his ears, and when they’re followed by your cold hand on his cheek redirecting his gaze on yours, he feels feverish.

Delirious, eyes barely keeping from rolling back, his brain reduced to senseless blabbering, “My God. Thank you for this.”

With his brows adorably drawn up, he focuses on your dilated pupils now that your faces are mere centimetres apart, and you close the distance with small pecks that trace his jaw, up to his ear lobe, whispering against the skin, “Are you seriously thanking God while I’m about to take your virginity?

Jeongguk hisses in a frenzied surge, his hands still unsurely keeping from touching you, and your sarcastic pun has him full on rambling, “Shit, sorry. I don’t even believe in God. This just feels too good to be true. You look like a fucking angel.”

“Ggukkie, language!” Your seductive tone along with your chuckle reverberates right against his chest, your hands moving to lead your own palms up and down his broad front, and when you subtly roll your hips against his clothed length, he breaks into a cry.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’ll come so soon,” you don’t know if it’s the adrenaline of the moment, but you’ve never witnessed such a bold Jeongguk. It only spurs you further, your hand traveling down, and down, until it sneaks under his sweater.

When you find his nipple, you playfully roll it between your pointer and thumb, his trembling body bucking up in an unstoppable urge, quiet whimpers working to keep his tone down. But you want to hear him scream under you, just as loud as you can feel his heart beating.

You bite your lip as your eyes drift downward, watching where your bodies meet in slow, teasing drags. His wide palms press into the cushions on either side of you, his knuckles turning white from the force of his grip, and when you lift your gaze to meet his face again the delicious buzz pooling low in your stomach intensifies, your lips parting instinctively. A pretty blush creeps up his neck, painting his sharp jaw and cheekbones in shades of red, and his eyes, clouded, desperate, and burning with unfiltered need, lock onto you with a gaze that makes your knees weak even as you straddle him.

The simple grinding through the layers of clothing you still have on has you releasing whiny gasps in the air, his cock sliding torturously between your folds, and if you’re so affected by every shift you can hardly fathom what he must be feeling under you.

So you wonder out loud, voice rough the more you feel his stiff nipple under your fingertips, “How long since you’ve been touched properly, hm?”

His body hiccups, shaking with the barely contained lust, “Since— Since you last did, goldie.”

You coo, slowing down your movements and bringing your fingers to the hem of his jumper only to lift it and toss it behind you carelessly, “You’re so sensitive, aren't you?” At the view of his exposed chest, you can’t help roaming the expanse of it and feeling the tensing muscles under your skin, and by now you’re sure your panties must be ruined.

“Puh— please,” the plea is barely coherent, whispered out messily through high-pitched moans, but he begs again, “I wanna touch you too.”

“Then…” You let your hands speak for you, moving them to lead his own big ones to rest at your thighs, letting them drag up the curve of your ass. You’re impossibly close to his lips now, fanning against them, “Feel me, Gguk.”

Unable to resist, you fall forward and catch his mouth with yours in a kiss that struggles to find a rhythm, that has your tongues tangled in an uncoordinated dance, but that inevitably has you both humming loudly in an effort to almost devour each other, and his hands digging in your bare skin only force a gasp out of you.

In an impatient rush, you urge him to unclasp your bra, his unpractised and shaky fingers being joined by your experienced ones to finally free you from the tight confines, and as much as he wants to make kissing you a sport just to win every gold medal and break record after record, he can’t help separating from your lips with a wet sound to look down at your exposed breasts.

Jeongguk groans, and this time he doesn’t need you guiding him. It’s his own palms moving to cup you, and the innocent, light feather touch causes you to throw your head back and resume your slow grinding on top of him.

Both of you are panting messes, his moans significantly louder the more he gets to knead at your softness only to slice his thumb over your hardened nipples, the contrast making his brows furrow in hazed need, and when you arch your back into him he squeezes your tit to his mouth, eliciting a surprised wail from you.

Even when he gets closer, your sensitive nub engulfed by his swollen lips, he keeps looking up at you for approval with wide, teary eyes that beg for you to praise him. And with a hand gripping his wavy locks, you nod repeatedly for him to keep going, “Fuck, baby. Just like that, oh my God.”

He hums lowly with his mouth stuffed, his fingers digging in your flesh the more you drag your cunt mercilessly over the outline of his thickness, and he has to release you with a pop and rest his head on the couch behind him, palms keeping you somewhat still by the waist, panting out a desperate request when he feels himself throb dangerously close to his high, “G—Goldie, I can’t. Don’t— Don’t wanna cum like this.”

You lift your hips just enough for the both of you to whimper at the loss of friction, and you murmur through a string of kisses along his exposed neck, “How do you want to cum then, huh?”

He only whines, cheeks flushed with want and eyes glossy, forehead creasing with the way his brows are stressing, “Please.”

You show no mercy, flashing him with a wicked smirk and a teasing tilt of your head, “Ah-ah. Say it.”

Gulping with effort, his waist twitches up unconsciously to seek for your touch once again, and with his face turned to the side he admits in the smallest voice, “‘Nside of you.”

“Good boy. Gonna give you exactly what you want.”

He voices a loud cry just from the sound of your promise, only echoing more intensely when you hastily work at his zipper. It’s messy, uncertain, and it elicits breathy giggles from the two of you, drunk on adoration and high on desire.

Eventually, he’s stripped free from his confines, and his cock stands proud and hard, veins pumping the blood that has it throbbing against his toned stomach.

Jeongguk can feel your hooded eyes on him, can sense his tip wettening with the simple way you seem starved and eager to taste him, your hand coming too close to where he needs you the most before he gently grabs your wrist to stop it.

Automatically, your head snaps up, and the look on his face is one of nervous desperation, “Wan’ you to kiss me, please.”

You’re ready to comply to his every demand, and this one is as easy as it gets. You want to give him everything— whatever he wants, however he wants it.

Your lips mold with his in worldless acceptance, absorbing all you were afraid to voice to each other, making up for all the time you wasted, devoting to a sealed promise, the one that dances between your connected tongues, saliva making it wet and breathless.

Even more when your slim fingers trail down his torso before wrapping around his length, your wrist expertly flicking in a teasing touch, and his moan is unrestrained as it tears through the kiss. You swallow the sound greedily, steadying you against his chest rising and falling in frantic pants.

Before he can protest, his own hips bucking up in a silent beg for more, you steal the air from his lungs when you move your panties to the side and align your entrance with his tip, just to sink down on it.

The drag is slow and it has both of your eyes rolling back, pleased groans filling the air and straining against your throat when you fully sit yourself wrapped around his dick. You search for him, “You okay?”

“Shit,” Jeongguk seems hypnotised by the view of his thickness wrecking you in half, and his palms come to rest at your waist where his fingers dig into the skin. Your own playing with the hair on his nape only seem to make him more vulnerable, “This is perfect. You feel so good and warm, fuck.”

You’re not used to hearing him curse so openly and so often, and it naturally makes you giggle, the sound tickling his ears and leading his dilated pupils to look up at you through his lashes. Your sweet laughter fades into a lasting smile, one he can’t help but kiss, even if it’s all teeth, the contagious sight of your happiness getting to him too.

The moment is sickeningly sweet, bodies connected in more ways than one. With your kiss only deepening and your chest melting against his, you pull him impossibly closer by the back of his neck and start attempting slow motions on top of him.

You hear him through his thundering heartbeat, “Goldie… I— I don’t think I can last any longer, I’m so sorry, I—”

“Oh, shit, baby,” one particular shift has his length, deeply stuffed in your tight walls, finding your spot and teasing it with an electric buzz that travels through your body, “It’s okay. I’m so close too.”

The moment you try a firmier bounce and feel him find you again, you can’t help the way your movements fasten, your moans thick and low against your throat, his own louder and ricocheting through the walls.

You steady yourself with one of you palms on his thigh, leaning your weight back and finding a new angle to fuck yourself on him. He watches in awe as you work your fingers on your clit, rapid circling movements causing his mouth to hang open at the squelching sounds.

He pants, his wide hands guiding your riding, pushing you up and down, “Can— Can I touch you?”

You hum, but it sounds more like a whine, “Hm, of course, pretty boy,” the hand that was stimulating your sensitive nub now comes behind you to help support yourself on both of his muscular thighs, flexing under every shift.

Jeongguk is unpracticed as he leads his thumb to rest at your clit, applying a soft pressure and mimicking the same pattern he observed from you. He only seems to be focusing on his doing for the first few moments before he searches up for the reaction on your face, and he whimpers when he finds your bottom lip trapped between your teeth, your brows drawn up in pleasure.

You smile at the unconscious twitch of his chin, and give him just what you know he wants, “Always seeking my approval. You’re so good.”

The simple praise only has him working on you with more confidence, collecting some of your wetness and sliding it up along your lips. He learns fast, listening to your every sound and centering on your pleasure, as best as he can with his own knot getting closer to bursting.

You’re clearly affected by the simulations, your hips stuttering and riding around him, but you still make sure to concentrate on him first, “I’ll tell you when to cum, hm? You’ll listen to me, right?”

Jeongguk nods before he even knows what he’s agreeing to, “Y—yes. Yes, yes, fuck. I’ll be good. Wanna be so, so good for you. Wanna c—cum for you.”

“You’re so filthy, baby. Naughty boy. Fuck me.”

His hips meet you up with harsh thrusts that have you lose your balance on him, and you can only throw yourself with your arms around his broad shoulders, face hidden in the crook of his neck as he lets his desire take over, fucking up into you with a desperate need for release.

You think you see stars with the way he relentlessly pounds your hole, wet folds sliding along his length and causing a mess between you, his own slickness mixed with yours trailing down and pooling at the base. The sounds are inglorious, and they merge perfectly with your wails.

Breathing in his scent, you know he’s close from the way his thrusts are stammering sloppily, and his moans are closer to strained whines. You concede, “F—Fucking cum, Gguk. Cum inside me, fuck.”

He nods, slamming you down to meet his movements, desperate to feel you before he can stop himself, “Cum with me, pleas— Oh.”

When your walls spasm around him with your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave, causing you to shake in his embrace around you, he feels himself cum unannounced, hard and thick, sprouts of white liquid relentlessly pumping inside your warmth.

You milk him dry, both your wails drained with the effort and fading into breathless gasps, his arms around you falling limply at his sides. You’re sprawled on his chest, emptied from any energy, and he is just as spent with his head lolling against the back of the couch.

But you feel it in your heartbeats syncing, the realization of what happened, what finally happened. You feel it in his face moving down to find your lips and catch them in a sweet peck, his fingers trailing up again to trace lazy patterns on your back before tangling in your hair, grounding himself in you.

It’s your own smiles breaking through the kiss, lashes tickling, and both of you laugh senselessly as you come down from the moment.

“Fuck,” Jeongguk breathes out, voice raspy, “This was the best Christmas gift ever.”

You snicker, biting your lip to hold back your amusement, “Oh, baby. It was just an excuse to fuck you. I actually did forget your gift at home.”

“W—What?” His brows shoot up, his post-orgasm haze momentarily replaced with incredulity as his cheeks redden even more.

When Jeongguk straightens on the couch, so do you, steadying your weak frame with your hands splayed against his chest. Sheepishly, you confess, “Yeah. Bought you that Mario game yo—“

“Princess Peach: Showtime?”

“Yea—”

Jeongguk gasps dramatically, his excitement so pure it’s almost jarring considering what just transpired, and that he’s no longer a virgin, “God, I fucking love— that game. That is the best Christmas gift ever.”

You can’t hold back your laughter this time, shaking your head at how easily he slips back into his usual self, the one that had you buying a Victoria’s Secret set in that shade of burgundy he said he didn’t like just to attempt a crazy chance at having him.

Leaning forward, you press a lingering kiss to his lips that brings you back to the realization that you finally did get to have him, before murmuring against them, “Well, that and a second round. What do you say?”

“Please.”

[ohmybueckers]

big ole freak - paige bueckers x reader

Summary: you're Paige's sneaky link and have her absolutely wrapped around your finger

Themes & Warnings: kinda sub Paige, driving while intoxicated (this is NOT an endorsement please do NOT do this), car sex, light choking kink, strap-on sex, oral sex, slight degradation, maybe one line of breeding kink, filth, like actual filth (with like a little bit of fluff at the end)

Author's Note: inspired by big ole freak by my mother megan thee stallion y'all i've had this idea brewing for a month so glad it's finally out in the world. special shoutout to my uconn hot girl twin @sierrale8ne and all the other hotties out there. In the wise words of meg... "your honor, i'm a freak bitch." happy reading <3

“He hit my phone with a horse

So I know that mean come over and ride it”

Wednesday nights were hit or miss at UConn - either you loaded all of your courses on Monday and Wednesday and had the night to chill, or you were prepping for a horrendous end to your week. You were in the former category, deciding to attend a party hosted by a friend of a friend you hardly knew - labelled a “wine Wednesday” party to anyone who asked why the fuck anyone would throw on a weeknight that wasn’t Thursday. 

You maybe made it through one glass of cheap rose before your night evolved how most nights ended up in the not-so-bustling town of Storrs, Connecticut: sitting out by the fire pit of the beaten down rental house with your friends in a circle, passing a joint around and talking shit (about professors, exes, parents… no one was off limits in the rotation) under the glow of some poorly strung lights.

Though you hadn’t touched another glass since your first inhale, knowing that you were not risking getting crossfaded tonight, it didn’t help much. You always seemed to forget that weed and parties did not mix well for you. Every sound felt heightened yet muffled at the same time, from the bass of the music to the conversation your friends were having around you. Your skin burned, heat flooding down your back in a way that almost made you squirm.

You needed an out, and soon.

Your savior came in the form of two buzzes in quick succession from your phone on your lap. Though you typically aimed at staying present when surrounded by others, you ruled this as a worthy exception. You lifted it, immediately shifting it away from your friends’ view as you read the texts from the all too familiar contact.

Paige: wyd rn?

Paige: wanna see you tonight pretty girl

“Nobody know, I fuck with him on the low”

If you told the version of yourself two months ago that you would end up fucking Paige Bueckers, she would have laughed in your face. It was no secret to anyone in your friend group, many of whom had come in close contact with UConn athletes, that she had an extensive history, none of them sticking around for longer than a couple of nights. You refused to be yet another victim to community dick (in this case, community strap). Maybe you would be a little less put off by the idea of getting with someone with a reputation like Paige if she wasn’t so cocky about it, like she got off on the idea that girls were obsessed with her. 

And then the two of you met on a night out at Ted’s, where she insisted on buying your drink (you told your friends afterwards that you let her for economical reasons). You attempted to stick with your friends that night, tired of your past filled with messy hookups that never led anywhere, but of course they all decided to mingle with the basketball team. Meaning Paige had the rest of the night to throw looks your way, practically eye fucking you. You hated to admit it, but you understood why girls were into Paige beyond aesthetic reasons: she was incredibly witty, quick to poke gentle fun at her friends while also making jokes about herself. Though it was clear in the few times she brought it up she loved what she did, it didn’t feel like the entire conversation revolved around her being a basketball star. And you couldn’t deny the way her gaze made you feel, like you were the only person there. And you hated it.

When you allowed Paige to put her number in your phone, you would also insist that it was due to bragging rights and had no intention of contacting her again. And when you texted her that night with just your name, you almost convinced yourself it was just the polite thing to do.

The two of you texted frequently throughout the week, with some time between messages due to her busy practice schedule and your insistence on not seeming like an overly obsessed groupie. You didn’t need to fuel her ego, no matter how much her attempts at flirting caused an ache between your thighs and how many times you’ve resorted to nights alone in your room, a chorus of moans filling the space as images of blue eyes and toned arms overwhelm you. Sure, you wanted to fuck her. But one thing you knew: if it was happening, it was happening under your terms.

It finally did around a week later, after a great afternoon showing for the Huskies in Gampel Pavilion. You stood in the student section, watching her light up the court in ways very few people could. The crowd was electric with every assist she made to Azzi, every time she made a clean three point shot, and with every effort she made to hype up the crowd. She truly was in her element. you would be lying if you said it didn’t tempt you.

Still buzzed from your tailgate beforehand, you texted her to say congratulations, to which she responded with a trademark Paige Bueckers flirty comment. It was certainly not the first time she had attempted this with you, so you weren’t sure why this time was any different. Maybe it was the liquid courage, but before you could think twice, you replied. 

“want me to show you how winners get treated?”

That’s how you ended the night tangled in Paige’s sheets and long, strong limbs. Basking in your post orgasm glow knowing that throughout the entire exchange you were in control, even when you were receiving. For the first time in a long, long time, a hookup felt good. 

You and Paige continued texting, this time more frequently. You were fully expecting Paige to be the type to hit it and quit it, as she had done many times before, but having a taste of you just seemed to make her want you more. And yet you never told your friends about any of it. Not because you were ashamed or anything, but because you knew it wouldn’t go anywhere. It almost never did with athletes, even ones that kiss your forehead and text you good morning every day. Though you were fully expecting it to end at some point, you really didn’t want to deal with your friends making it a huge deal. Even if there was a little part of you, a voice in your head you did everything to silence, that told you maybe you didn’t want her to go.

“We never show up together but I text him when I'm ready to go”

A half assed excuse left your lips as you walked away from the couch circle and closer to the trees, far enough away so nobody would hear when you pressed an all too familiar contact and made the call. The phone hardly needed to ring one time before her end of the line was overwhelmed by a cacophony of loud voices. Unless your ears were deceiving you, you swore you could hear KK scream “liar!” at someone

“Hey pretty gir- aye! Be quiet one moment!” Her attempt at being quiet quickly escalated to a yell, presumably at one of her teammates, before returning to your conversation with an apologetic tone, “Sorry, I’m at Aubrey’s.”

Why the UConn girls were seemingly partying on a Wednesday night was beyond your comprehension, but it was honestly the last thing on your mind in that moment. “‘Wanna see you tonight’, huh? Tryin to ditch your teammates?”

“They’re all too invested in Mario Party to care. Besides,” She paused, her voice getting quieter (and unless you were hearing things wrong, more vulnerable), “It’s worth it for you.”

You knew what you wanted, and boy you were going to get it. With a sickly sweet grin you asked, “Pick me up in ten?”

“I had a couple of shots at the bar

I'm finna play with that dick in the car"

You knew the second you shut the door to Paige’s car and kissed her that she had been drinking that night, the presence of liquor on her lips. You would be so ready to scold her for driving under the influence, tell her she should not play with her life like that, if you weren’t also just appreciative for any out you could get. Besides, as long as she was telling the truth, she was only a couple shots deep. The weed in your system had dulled down at this point, and instead of feeling overwhelmed from the noise around you, you were overwhelmed by the urge to have Paige the way you wanted to. especially with how she looked now, glasses on and hair thrown into a messy ponytail, silver chain accessorizing her sweat set. God, you didn’t even know if you could make it to her bed.

“This new?” She asks about two minutes into the twelve minute drive, gesturing to your top. It was an old one, found in the bottom of one of your bins of clothes while you were searching for a going out top that would allow you to put off doing laundry for another day. It worked well enough - a simple crop top with a flattering neckline. “Looks really good.”

“Nah, kept it from freshman year,” You replied, head braced by your arm against the side of the car staring at the girl next to you. Paige had a grip on her steering wheel, eyes focused on the practically empty roads leading to her apartment. A part of you was very thankful she was being cautious given the circumstances. But another part of you, a more sinister voice, wanted to try something.

Your manicured hands traced up your torso, your own touch nearly making you gasp. Damn, you really were that desperate. Your nails played with the hem of your shirt, gently pulling it up towards your breasts as the air conditioning hit more and more of your skin. “This is new though.”

Paige hit a red light, making a confused sound before her eyes met yours. They didn’t stay there long before trailing down, past your neck and to the bra that currently had your tits pushed to the sky, one hand reaching around to cup one as you licked your lips. Your top could hardly be considered one anymore, pooled at your collarbone as you continued touching yourself. You maintained your gaze, looking at the blonde like she was prey as her tongue met her cheek inside her mouth, a loud swallow going down her throat.

When she finally spoke, it was a breathless chuckle that revealed just what kind of effect you had on her as she shook her head. “You’re something else.”

The green light flashed into the car, prompting her to return her gaze back to the road and press on the gas. Google Maps said you were eight minutes away, but judging by the way your finger was tracing around your bra covered nipple, you weren’t sure if you could wait that long. And if the way Paige’s eyes were bugging out of her head at the road attempting to not look at you were any indication, you knew she felt the same. “Paige?”

“Mhmm?” She asked through gritted teeth, hanging on to her last thread of self control.

“Pull over.”

————

“That’s it, just like that… fuck.”

You nodded in Paige’s pussy, nails grazing her thighs. The set up could be more ideal: All six feet of her were crammed in the backseat, sweats pooled at her ankles as you sat almost diagonal in order to have a more comfortable position. Neither of you really seemed to care all that much, too intoxicated off of each other and your respective substances. Besides, judging by the way Paige massaged your neck and whined, you wouldn’t be here long.

You only needed two more minutes eating Paige out like she was your last meal before her grip tightened at the back of your neck, cumming with a cry of your name. You ate her through it, slurping her up like ice cream before slowly rising, placing a kiss to her lips so she could taste herself. She hummed with contentment into the kiss, cupping your jaw tenderly. You separated, your smirk cocky as her hand traced back down your neck, feeling the soft material of your bra for herself. “So fucking pretty,” she whispered to herself, eyes trained on how the color of the garment made your skin look radiant. Her hands switched directions, gently tracing up before reaching your neck and applying pressure with hungry eyes.

“We’re going home. Need to see you cum on my dick now.”

“I'ma make him wait for the pussy

Hit it 'til he big ole skeet”

The rest of the car ride was uneventful, Paige keeping a grip on your thigh as music propelled you guys into her parking lot. When you reached her apartment, you were ready for the inevitable fight for dominance between the two of you. Instead, Paige merely hung her keys on her hook and moved to the kitchen. “Want any water?”

You almost laugh as you follow her in, as if she was pranking you. “What are you, all talk and no game?” You joke, still taking the offer. Despite drinking Paige up just moments prior, you were very aware of just how dry your mouth was.

Paige smirked, taking a sip of her own water before grazing your torso with her hands. “Just tryna be chivalrous, ma.” 

You took a big gulp of water, allowing yourself to sink into the feeling of Paige’s touch before setting the glass down. “Don’t need all that,” You murmur, the pads of your fingers playing with the hem of Paige’s hoodie. You look up, maneuvering yourself so your lips were as close to her ear as possible before murmuring. “Just need you.” 

“Oh yeah?” She teases, already beginning to back you towards her bedroom, her tall frame overwhelming yours. Now this is what you came here for: the feeling of her tongue slipping in your mouth as your lips collided, the feeling of her properly undressing you as soon as her door shut behind you, and the gravel in her voice as she commands you to “get on the bed”.

“You have no fucking idea how bad i’ve wanted this,” Paige growled, crawling above you and connecting your lips once more before peppering them down to your neck. You couldn’t help but sigh, deciding that you would put up with a million lackluster parties if they all ended like this.“These perfect tits.” She moved to toss your bra on her floor before licking around your nipple, sucking on your breast and surely leaving a mark - she always found a way to, much to your chagrin. You allowed yourself to take pleasure in the feeling for a moment, resting up before your next move. Because while you moments like these with Paige, there was no way in hell you were letting her think the dynamic switched.

With a swift move that even left yourself dumbfounded at your abilities , you hooked a leg around her and flipped the basketball player over, catching yourself with both hands on the mattress. Paige’s jaw dropped, equally shocked and impressed. “Woah.”

“I thought you’d figure out by now that I’m in charge here,” You quipped, gaining enough composure quickly to maintain the persona you wanted. You were going to fuck Paige just as much as she was fucking you. You quickly made the executive decision that Paige was wearing far too many clothes, gesturing her to raise her arms before moving to help her remove her hoodie leaving her in her sweats and a sports bra - very typical Paige attire. You nipped, kissed, and sucked above her chest in the areas not covered by the sports bra, careful to avoid her neck or any other areas that would be visible in a jersey. At one point, you took the chain she wore in your mouth, feeling the cold metal against your lips. Paige groaned, attempting to tug your mouth back on to hers by lifting you from your waist. You tsk, “Be patient.”

“You’re making patience really hard, sweetheart.” She states through gritted teeth, one hand moving to your hair and tugging to make a point. She was desperate tonight, just the way you liked her. 

Deciding to give her a little taste of you, you sat up so only your ass made contact with her, sitting plush against her pelvis. Need to see you cum on my dick now, her voice repeated in your head. with a mischievous glint. Slowly, you began grinding your hips, your ass hitting against her. “This what you want?”

She threw her head back, realizing what you were mimicking. “Please.”

“Beg.”

You would think you said something far more outrageous the way she looked up at you, eyebrows raised. “You crazy? nah!”

Typical Paige, not one to give up without a fight. You knew all too well how this would end though.“Suit yourself.” You shrugged, continuing your actions from before, this time trailing a hand down your short skirt and lightly touching yourself through your panties.

“Fuck baby,” She swore she could feel how wet you were as you continued rolling your hips, giving her a preview of everything she could have if she just put her ego aside. “You’re killing me right now.”

“I think I know what would fix that,” you purred.

“Oh fuck,” her voice was almost strangled, any ounce of dignity she had quickly leaving her body and being replaced by the urge to make you feel good. Her eyes appeared as though they were welling up as she pleaded with you. “Please let me fuck you. Would do anything to make you feel good.”

A smile spread across your face, knowing you finally had her exactly where you wanted her. You paused your teasing, swinging your leg back aroundand reaching a standing position. Her eyes followed you, her gaze equally confused and frustrated, before she recognized the box you were reaching for in her drawer. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” You asked, harness and dildo in hand as you sauntered back over to the bed.

“Ain't nobody freak like me

Give ya what you need like me

Ain't nobody got on they tip, tip toes and rode to the tip like me”

You were putting on a whole ass show for her. Your feet were positioned on each side of of her, providing stability as you bounced on her silicon dick like your life depended on it. Your tits bounced with each impact your bodies made. The room was quiet (save for the sound of both of your moans and the dull buzz of the vibrator against Paige within the strap), but it was like you were moving to a melody, alternating between fast moments of riding her and slower moments where you simply moved your hips, allowing yourself to bask in the pleasure.

Paige laid back against the pillows, practically mesmerized at the sight of you as you ran a hand through your hair, throwing your head back in the process. “Holy shit.”

“Any other girls fucking you like this, baby?” You don’t know why you felt the need to ask. For one, you were very confident in your abilities, and you also knew that Paige was likely still going home with other girls. It’s not a topic you ever cared enough to approach. 

“No other girls anymore. None could make me cum like you,” Paige shook her head, moving to grab your waist and help facilitate your movements as if she was seeking any form of control she could get. “Riding my dick like a slut, baby, fuck.”

Your eyes wandered a bit, over to the collection of photographs on Paige’s wall, the number of awards given, all the way to one particular object. Your hips began to slow progressively until they came to a complete stop, prompting a disappointed groan from the blonde beneath you.

“Stand up. I wanna try something new.”

“I want to fuck in the mirror, I like to look at your face when you in it

Come in the room and I'm giving commands

I am the captain and he the lieutenant”

The sides of the chair you were gripping were cold, in contrast to the heat rushing through the rest of your body. Paige stood behind you, pounding into you from behind as the both of you took full advantage of the full length mirror beside you giving you a full view of everything - and by everything, you meant everything, from the way Paige’s hair looked entirely fucked out to the wetness dripping down her thighs.

Paige’s eyes squeezed shut, unable to handle the way your ass looked rippling against her, how your waist fit in her hands as she slammed you back, and she especially could not handle the way you were looking at her in the mirror. “Baby imma bust,” she moaned, her words slurred together. She was too drunk off of you.

“Hold it. I’m almost there,” you instructed, reaching down to rub circles around your clit. You were dripping, cream forming a ring around Paige’s strap. You moved your hips, twerking on her dick as you looked back at it. Paige was convinced in that moment that if it were not anatomically impossible, she would have absolutely accidentally knocked you up in that moment.

“Need to cum so bad, baby. You feel so good, so fucking fine.” 

The warmth that once rushed through you from the joint was now accumulating to your core. It was all becoming too much, even more so when she slapped your hand away to help rub hard circles on you, her desperation a mix of wanting to be the reason you finished as well as the realization that she was going to blow any moment. 

“Gonna cum.” You finally moan, feeling as though your legs may snap as you let go. Paige was not far behind, gripping your waist and burying her head in your neck as she pressed herself to the base inside of you. 

“Usually I like to fuck

But tonight we gon' make love 'cause you bae”

You attempted to catch your breath as you laid down next to Paige. She had both hands on the sides of your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks. “You’re so perfect,” She murmured, eyelids drooping as she fought the urge to pass out then and there. Her touch was less possessive this time and more tender, cupping your skin as if it were made of glass.

You let out a breathy laugh at her words, almost like you couldn’t believe them, yet you couldn’t stop the way your body nuzzled into hers further. “You’re just happy you got laid tonight,” You quipped.

“I don’t mean it like that. you know I don’t.”

Perhaps one of the most important rules of hooking up with an athlete, especially one as high profile as Paige, is to never believe a word they say. So you felt a little silly when you took note of how her blue eyes gazed at you, waking up enough to make eye contact to show you that this was the truth. It felt worse when you felt your heart skip a beat at the realization. In fact, it scared the hell out of you. 

“Stay the night tonight,” She whispered. You had never heard her sound like that, so out of control and at your whim. She was scared too. “I don’t want you to leave.”

You nodded, pushing past the voice in your head screaming at you to run just as you had after every other night you and Paige shared. You were tired, and Paige was right there, and it was just not the time to listen to your head over your heart. “Okay.”

You would deal with logistics later. All you needed now was tonight.

[kaira-diaries]

Nocturne:

warning: smut-implied age gap || wound cleaning || violence || implied death ||

pairing: fem!xfrontman/In-ho

wc: 4k

a/n: Okay, I feel like while writing this I blindly turned it into an enemies to lovers. Kind of? Sorta? Maybe?

summary: The sheltered daughter of a VIP grows bored of the games, and finds herself exploring the quarters of the front man, only she's blindly unaware. This mistake, while nearly costs her her life, also opens up an intense and longing romance.

->Masterlist <-

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

You stifled a yawn, staring down at the game room where players carefully carved honeycombs under the watchful eyes of masked guards. Dalgona—a game you knew well but found painfully dull. Your father, sprawled beside you on the velvet loveseat, reeked of expensive liquor and slurred, "Where are you going?"

As you stood, you tucked a pillow beneath his head, smoothing your burgundy dress. "For a drink. Rest now."

Another VIP leaned over, gesturing to your snoring father. "Had too much?"

"Always," you replied with a tight smile. "Keep an eye on him, will you?"

Glass in hand, you ascended the grand staircase to the bar. The itch of your golden mask only added to your frustration. The sound of a gunshot from the game room below barely held your attention. Forty lost—disappointing. You popped the cork on a fresh bottle of wine, pouring a glass and savoring the first sip.

Then, through the double doors ahead, you noticed something. A space you'd never seen before, dark and enticing.

You hesitated, glancing back at the games. Nothing exciting there, and your father was well guarded. With a sly smile, you patted the blade strapped to your thigh, pushed the doors open, and stepped into the unknown.

With the wine bottle in hand, you take a generous swig, the rich flavor a momentary comfort. The foyer feels stark, oppressive—its black walls and cool gray floors exuding a chill that seeps into your skin. Gold accents glint faintly in the dim light, the only warmth in this austere domain. You grimace at the decor but press on, curiosity pulling you deeper.

The elongated hallway looms ahead, flanked by heavy, closed doors. Each one seems to hum with secrets, daring you to turn the handle. You hesitate, a voice in the back of your mind warning you to turn around. Yet, as your fingers graze the cool brass of a doorknob, you pull back. Another sip of wine quiets the voice, and you continue to the open space at the hall's end.

This room feels different—softer, more inviting. You run your fingers along the sleek fabric of a gray loveseat, its plush texture a strange comfort against the stark surroundings. Your gaze lands on a collection of vibrant figurines—a rare splash of color in the muted space. One stands out: a woman in a flowing red gown, microphone in hand, her face alight with passion. Around her, a miniature band, instruments gleaming, seems poised to play.

Your heart races as you spot a remote beside the figures. The urge to press it outweighs any lingering caution. You place the bottle down next to your mask as you remove it, press the button, and watch as the figures come to life, their voices harmonizing in a hauntingly beautiful rendition of "Fly Me to the Moon."

The melody fills the room, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Eyes closed, you let the music wash over you, unsure if it's the alcohol or the song that's softening the edges of the world. 

You were halfway through the bottle of wine when the music stopped abruptly, and a cold dread prickled your spine. The figures had ceased their dance mid-note, leaving the room in a suffocating silence.

You spun around, the blade on your thigh now in your grip, sharp and ready.

Standing in the doorway was a figure shrouded in shadow, his presence dominating the room. He stepped forward, the dim light catching the edges of a cold, metallic mask. His posture was rigid, and his gloved hand gripped a pistol aimed directly at you.

"Who are you?" His voice was like crushed gravel, low and commanding.

Your pulse quickened, but you kept your expression sharp, masking the fear threatening to surface. "You first," you bit back, your fingers tightening around the hilt of your blade.

His head tilted slightly, the gesture almost mocking. "You're in my quarters, and yet you demand answers."

You shifted your stance; every muscle in your body coiled like a spring. "I didn't see your name on the door," you snapped, each word laced with defiance.

In a flash, he was upon you, closing the distance with startling speed. His hand caught your wrist, twisting it just enough to force the knife from your grip without breaking the skin. You gritted your teeth as he pinned your arm behind your back, pressing you against the cold edge of the table.

His gun found its way under your chin, tilting your head back to meet his masked gaze. The mask's lifeless eyes stared down at you, void of humanity, and yet you swore you could feel the heat of his scrutiny.

"Answer me," he growled, his voice a hairsbreadth from your ear.

You smirked, though your pulse hammered against your ribs. "Kill me, then. I dare you. Let's see how you'd like explaining to everyone why a VIP's daughter ended up dead in your quarters."

His grip faltered for a fraction of a second, a hesitation so slight that most wouldn't notice. But you did. He released you with an almost annoyed shove, holstering his gun as he took a deliberate step back.

Rubbing your wrist, you straightened and smirked at him, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. "Yeah didn't think so," you muttered.

Before he could respond, the room was flooded with pink-clad guards, their rifles raised and aimed squarely at you. Your eyes darted between the barrels of the guns and the masked man.

"Stand down," he barked at the guards, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

They hesitated but obeyed, lowering their weapons.

You scoffed, brushing past the guards as you retrieved your blade from the floor. "All of this for little ol' me?" you quipped, slipping your knife back into its sheath.

The masked man didn't respond, his head tilting slightly as if studying you. His silence unnerved you more than the gun had.

With a flick of your hair, you grabbed your golden mask from the table and placed it over your face, the metallic surface catching the dim light. As you walked past him, your eyes never left his, and neither did his leave yours.

"Try not to miss me," you said with a smirk, your voice dripping with mockery as you exited the room.

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

You lay on your back, rubbing your eyes as exhaustion clung to you, but sleep refused to come. You didn't know what time it was, but when a dull headache crept in, you sighed and slipped out of bed to find a glass of water. Throwing on a black robe, you padded into the quiet halls, unconcerned. At this hour, only the guards would be awake, and none would dare glance at the daughter of a VIP—not if they valued their lives.

You crossed your arms against the chill and shut the door behind you. The once-bright hallway was now shaded, the only light spilling faintly from the main room ahead. Your knees ached as you trudged down the cold corridor.

The earlier Dalgona game had thinned the herd. Many players were gone, and your father's friends were divided—some bitter over their financial losses, others laughing as they poured another drink. For them, the money was trivial.

Mama had always been against gambling, insisting money was meant to be earned, not squandered on fleeting thrills. You missed her fiercely, the ache of her absence tightening your chest. You pressed on, trying to shake the melancholy, though your thoughts drifted elsewhere—to him.

His presence lingered in your mind like a gloom you couldn't shake. He had come terrifyingly close to ending your life, yet there was something in that encounter—a charged energy you couldn't explain, equal parts fear and... something else.

Reaching the kitchen, you stepped inside, greeted by the faint hum of the industrial fridge. The space was massive, gleaming stainless steel counters and cabinets casting faint reflections in the dim light. You found a glass in one of the cabinets, filling it with water from the sleek faucet.

As you raised the glass to your lips, a flicker of movement in the doorway caught your eye. Your heart stopped. He stood there, The masked man, silent and imposing.

A startled yelp escaped your lips as you stumbled back a step, clutching your chest.

"You're gonna give me a heart attack—again," you snapped, scowling at him as you poured 

another generous measure of water into your glass. "Ever heard of announcing yourself?"

His voice came out low and mechanical, but there was something unspoken behind it, something you couldn't quite place. "How are you feeling?" he asked, his eyes behind the mask locked on you, lingering just a little too long. His steps were slow and soft, as if he was trying not to scare you off.

You cleared your throat, shrugging off the weight of his gaze. "Could be better," you said nonchalantly, swirling the liquid in your glass. Then, flashing a sharp smile, you added, "I didn't quite catch your name after you nearly blew my brains out."

"I'm the Front Man," he replied evenly.

Your grin faltered slightly, but you held it together, leaning casually against the counter. "Fitting. So, what's your deal in all this? Why are you here?"

"I oversee and operate the facility," he said, his voice as detached as ever.

You tilted your head, curiosity tugging at you. "So, you're the game maker," you said, taking a sip and adding, "Those were actually your quarters, then."

"Among other things," he admitted, a touch of something—pride, perhaps?—edging into his tone.

Your lips twitched with the hint of a smile as you folded your arms, suddenly acutely aware of your black robe, barely held together at the waist. "Sorry for snooping earlier," you said, your voice softer. "Curiosity and boredom get the better of me sometimes."

He didn't respond immediately, and the silence stretched, charged and heavy. When he finally spoke, his question caught you off guard. "What did you think of today's game?"

You raised a brow, knowing he didn't care about your opinion. Still, you couldn't resist taking the bait. "Honestly? It was a bit of a snooze fest. The Dalgona challenge?" You shook your head. "A complete letdown. I was so bored I ended up raiding your quarters just to find something more entertaining."

You thought you heard a low scoff beneath the mask, but his face was unreadable. "How so?" he asked, almost begrudgingly.

"It lacked drama," you said, setting your glass down. "There was no big moment to keep the audience on edge. No payoff. It felt...lazy." You leaned forward more, catching his stare. "I'm not easily impressed, and for my first visit? Not great, especially after being...manhandled."

His head tilted slightly, his mask catching the low light. "You're a spoiled brat," he said, his tone clipped. "I'm not here to entertain you."

You pushed away from the counter, stepping in front of him closely, your golden necklace catching the light as it swung forward. "That's where you're wrong," you said, your voice low, each word deliberate. "I'm part of the next generation of VIPs—the ones funding your 'little business.' If you can't impress me, why should I invest in you?"

The room felt colder for a moment, his silence more cutting than any retort. "Why wait until now to join your father at the games?" he asked abruptly, sidestepping your challenge.

You blinked, momentarily thrown. "I've been busy," you said.

"Busy with what?" he pressed.

You toyed with a strand of hair, smirking. "Business," you said lightly. "I mostly dabble in the legal kind...and sometimes the not-so-legal, if the payout's worth it."

A gust of cold air swept through the room, making you shiver. You rubbed your arms for warmth, feeling the tension in the air grow thicker. "How did you end up running all of this, anyway?" you asked, meeting his gaze. "Doesn't seem like the kind of job you'd find on a career board."

His answer was clipped. "I'm skilled at what I do. That's all you need to know."

"That's it?" you asked, your frown betraying your disappointment. "No juicy backstory?"

"Does it really matter?" he countered.

"Guess not," you said with a shrug. But his words lingered, their finality leaving a mark.

"If you're mostly about legal businesses, what are you doing here?" he asked, his tone sharp, probing.

"I love my father," you said simply. "He asked me to come, so I came. And this...this is my future, isn't it? Might as well get familiar with it instead of pretending it doesn't exist."

For a moment, he said nothing, his mask a void, his gaze impenetrable. But you felt it—the weight of his attention, the unspoken pull between you.

Finally, you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, the spell breaking. "I should get to bed," you said softly, stepping around him toward the hallway with your water. "Goodnight."

He inclined his head, his voice low. "Goodnight."

As you descended, the warmth of the exchange lingered, a quiet echo in the stillness of the night.

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

A week had passed in a whirlwind of chaos, each game more brutal and captivating than the last. Yet, what lingered in your mind was the frustrating absence of The Front Man. Beyond fleeting glances, he seemed distant, as though merely going through the motions. It bothered you that you were disappointed.

Seated in your velvet chair, you felt the thrill of a game's dramatic conclusion but soon found yourself craving a refill. With a sudden burst of energy, you left your seat, not bothering to smooth your sage green dress, and ascended the staircase to the bar. The marble counter gleamed under soft light as you reached for the whiskey decanter.

Before the amber liquid could hit the glass, a loud crash from behind the double doors stopped you cold. Another crash followed, then a cry of pain that sent chills down your spine.

Heart pounding, you slipped inside to find The Front Man hunched over, a knife digging into his bloodied shoulder.

"What the fuck?" you blurted, stepping closer.

He shot out his good arm, stopping you. "I'm fine. Go back to the game," he said, his voice calm but distant.

You hesitated, his words tempting you to leave, but the sight of him—wounded and vulnerable—rooted you to the spot. Walking away felt impossible.

"Let me get it out. At that angle, you'll never dislodge it." He continued to poke and prod at his shoulder, his fingers and the blade digging into the tender flesh. Groaning in pain as blood pooled from his shoulder, he ultimately ignored your offer; shocker. 

You rolled your eyes and rushed over to him, hovering until he quit and met your gaze through the grey mask. "You can barely stay upright; let me help," you said, palm outstretched for the blade. "Believe me, you don't want to bleed out. It's a mess to clean up." He stalled for a few heartbeats, and you almost felt awkward until he placed the bloodstained blade in your hand. 

Sitting beside him, the tension in his body eased slightly. 

"You're stubborn," you muttered, wiping away the blood to get a clearer view of the wound. 

"And you're persistent," he shot back, a flicker of amusement flashed in your expression. 

"Call it a survival skill." You took a steadying breath. You hesitated for a moment, then glanced at the mask that concealed his face. "This isn't going to work with that thing in the way. Take it off."

Silence followed for a few moments, "It stays on."

"Look," you said, your tone firm but not unkind. "If I'm going to pull this bullet out without nicking an artery, I need to see what I'm doing. That means the mask—and the jacket—have to go."

A tense silence stretched between you, broken only by the sound of his unsteady breathing. Finally, with a sharp exhale, he reached up and unfastened the mask. As it fell away, you froze.

He was breathtaking—sharp cheekbones, a strong jawline, and piercing eyes that seemed to cut right through you. Despite the blood and sweat streaking his skin, he radiated a rugged intensity that made it hard to look away. You blinked, forcing yourself to focus.

"Jacket and whatever is on underneath too," you managed, your voice quieter now.

He smirked faintly, as if he'd caught the flicker of shock in your expression, but said nothing as he shrugged off his jacket and black shirt with a wince. Beneath it, his body was lean and sculpted, the muscles taut as he shifted to give you better access to the wound. You swallowed hard, mentally cursing yourself for being distracted. "This might hurt a little more." 

"Just do it," he deadpanned, taking a wealthy swig of liquor. 

The blade slipped deep into the wound, and your fingers steadied as you worked with precision. The bullet was lodged in an awkward angle, and you cursed under your breath. "What were you doing to end up like this?" You asked, partly to distract him and partly because your curiosity was gnawing at you. 

"Nothing, it was a disagreement," he said curtly.

"With a bullet?" you teased, but his silence told you it wasn't a joke. "Right. Noted."

Finally, your blade scraped against something hard, and you exhaled in relief. "Got it." You carefully maneuvered the bullet free, holding it up triumphantly before tossing it onto the table with a metallic clink. 

He let out a shaky breath, his body fully relaxing for the first time since you'd entered the room. "You're good at this," he admitted, his voice softer now.

"Thanks. Years of practice." You grabbed another cloth and doused it with the liquor, dabbing it against the wound to clean it. He hissed through his teeth but didn't pull away. 

"So," you said, wrapping a bandage tightly around his shoulder, "are you going to tell me what actually happened, or do I have to piece it together myself?" 

He studied you for a moment, his gaze unreadable. "You ask too many questions."

"Maybe," you admitted with a small smile, tying off the bandage. "But it's part of my charm." He shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching as if suppressing a smile. 

"You're lucky I decided to be a helpful hand today," you commented, admiring your handiwork. "That should hold for now; I'll come back tonight to clean and bandage it once more. Just don't go picking any more fights."

"I'll keep that in mind." You started to gather the bloodied cloths and the blade, but his voice stopped you. "Thank you."

The sincerity in his tone caught you off guard, and you glanced back at him. For a moment, the stoic, commanding figure seemed almost... human. 

"You're welcome," you said softly. "Just try not to die on me. It'd be a shame after all that work." 

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound sending you a strange warmth. "I'll do my best."

With that, you left his quarters to rejoin the game, the faint sound of his laughter following you as you returned to your velvet seat. 

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

The room was dim, bathed in the soft, amber glow of a single lamp on the bedside table. The air was thick with the heady mix of whiskey and expensive cologne, an intoxicating blend that made you pause in the doorway, savoring it for a moment longer than you should have. In your hands, bandages and a damp cloth felt heavier than they were, as if weighted by the tension you carried with you. 

He sat on the edge of the bed, his back straight and shoulders taut, every inch of him radiating restraint. The mask was absent, left somewhere out of sight, and you were mesmerized by the faint outline of his profile in the low light. 

You knocked softly on the open door, the sound cutting through the thick silence. "So." he said without looking up, his voice, edged with dry humor. "That's how you announce yourself to someone." 

A soft laugh escaped your lips, an involuntary reaction to his sharp wit, as you entered the room. The distance between you felt heavier with every step, but you closed it anyway and sat beside him. 

"Any dizziness?" You asked, your voice gentle, almost tentative, as you set the supplies beside you. 

He turned his head toward you, his eyes shadowed yet heavy with something unspoken. His stillness was unnerving like he was waiting for something-waiting for you. "No," he said finally, his tone steady but low. "I feel fine." 

"Good," you murmured, reaching for his shoulder. His body tensed beneath your touch, a subtle reaction, but you felt it all the same. You worked carefully, peeling away the bandage with delicate fingers, wincing at the angry wound beneath. "Your body must be making up for the blood loss," you added, your voice softer now. 

His gaze lingered on you, the intensity of it palpable. You could feel the heat of it, even as he said nothing. The space between you seemed to shrink with each passing second, and though neither of you spoke, the weight of what remained unsaid hung in the air like a fragile thread. 

"You don't have to do this," he said, his voice breaking the quiet. 

You glance up, meeting his weary gaze. "Maybe not," you admitted, your fingers brushing his skin as you cleaned the wound. "But I want to." 

His lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw tightening for a moment before he let out a slow measured breath. "You shouldn't care," he murmured, almost to himself, but the words felt directed at you as if he was referring to when he pressed a gun to your head. 

"And yet, here I am," you said, a faint smile playing on your lips. 

His expression was unreadable, and for a moment, you thought he might say something more. Instead, he sat in silence, letting you work.

As you finished securing the new bandage, your fingers lingered for just a moment too long, the touch barely there but electric nonetheless. You pulled back slowly, your heart thundering in your chest, and you pulled your hands into your lap, staring down at them.

You could feel his heavy and unwavering gaze on you. He hadn't said a word, but his silence spoke louder than any declaration. His dark and intense eyes roamed over you, not just your face but every detail—the loose strands of your freshly washed hair, the way your shirt slipped slightly off one shoulder, revealing the soft curve beneath. There was more than curiosity in his gaze; there was hunger, restrained and smoldering like a fire barely contained. 

"Why did you offer to come here tonight?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly. 

"To check on your wound," you said, though your voice cracked under the weight of his stare. 

He leaned forward slightly, his good hand bracing against the bed, and you caught that familiar scent of cologne mingling with a raw scent that was entirely his. "That's not the only reason," he countered, his tone sharp. 

Your breath hitched as he closed the space between you, the proximity dizzying. "Maybe I was worried," you admitted in a whisper as his presence consumed you. 

"Worried," he repeated, almost to himself, his lips curling into a faint smirk. 

"You shouldn't be." 

"I can't help it," you whispered. 

His hand moved before you could think, his fingers brushing against your cheek. The touch was surprisingly gentle, but his eyes burned with something deeper, something primal. His thumb traced a line down your jaw, "You're exquisite," he murmured as his hand slid down, resting on the side of your neck, his thumb now grazing the hollow of your throat. The pulse beneath his touch quickened, betraying you. 

"You should leave," he said, though the words lacked conviction. 

"Do you want me to leave?" you asked, searching his eyes for any truth. 

His grip on your neck tightened ever so slightly, his fingers pressing against your skin as he tilted his head closer. "No," he admitted, the confession slipping out. Your lips parted, a sharp inhale escaping as the tension between you snapped, and he closed the distance. His lips captured yours with a heat that stole your breath. 

The kiss wasn't tentative or hesitant—it was consuming, demanding, and filled with a longing that neither of you could deny anymore. His hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that left you dizzy, his control slipping just enough to let you feel how much he wanted you. 

Your breath hitched as the kiss deepened, his grip on your back tightening, holding you to him. Without breaking the kiss, you shifted even closer, the soft fabric of your shirt brushing against his chest as your hands settled, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your fingertips. Wanting more, needing more, you leaned further in, swinging one leg over his lap. His breath caught as you settled onto him, straddling his thighs with deliberate care, mindful of his injured shoulder. His good hand explored every inch of you now as the kiss quickened with appetite. You gasped as his hand gripped your ass with breathtaking strength. 

The intimacy of the position sent a flush of heat through you, pooling between your thighs as your pulse thrummed wildly. Gazing down at him, he searched your face, lingering on your lips before flicking back up to look at you. Your hands reached up, brushing your fingers against his jaw; the faint stubble was rough beneath your touch.  "I didn't hurt you, did I?" you asked softly. 

"No," he said, the single word rough and weighted. You smiled. 

"Good," you mumbled, your palm pushing his hair from his face.

 "Because I don't want to stop." With that said, you pulled your shirt up, over your head and tossed it to the side, unveiling your breasts. He took every inch in of you, wasting no time attaching his lips to you. The sensation was breathtaking as you threw your head back, moaning. 

You exhaled sharply. There'd be marks, no doubt. However, concern surfaced within you as he suddenly pulled back. You gazed down at him, catching the flicker of hesitation in his eyes. 

"What's wrong?" 

"I can't fuck you how I want." 

Your expression eased as you met his gaze. "Then let me take care of you," you murmured, your voice gentle but determined as you lifted off him and slid down to the floor, settling on your knees. Reaching for his pants, your fingers diligently worked at the leather belt, yanking it free. Unzipping his pants and sliding your hands in, he sprang free before you, and your mouth watered at the view of him. You caught his eye, finding a smirk on his lips as he reached for your hair, wrapping it around his knuckles.

He gave a sharp tug, pulling your head back, and you whined. "You look so pretty on your knees for me," he remarked with desire staining his eyes.

With that, you took his immense size in your mouth, gliding to the pace he had set for you. Your tongue danced on his tip, and you swallowed every time you took the entirety of him; he groaned, "Fuck, just like that." He praised and your eyes watered from the intensity. You weren't outstanding at providing head, and a wave of insecurity washed over you. Nerves twisted in your stomach at the thought of not satisfying him, but the hitches in his breathing, the sharp inhales and exhales, and the praise he offered gave you the assurance you needed as you took him deeper and deeper with intensity and lust. You hadn't been able to see, but his head was thrown back in pleasure, lips parted.

Feeling him twitch in your mouth, you knew he was close as he picked up the speed even more. Saliva began pooling from your lips, dripping onto your knees and covering his length as you fought to breathe. His pull on your hair grew sloppy and you moaned at the appetizing ache in your scalp. "Fuck you're going to make me cum." His voice is rough as he offers one last yank of your hair, slamming you back down onto him and filling your mouth. You swallow the load, pulling off him and meeting his exhausted eyes; he rubs his thumb over your lips, promptly shoving it in your mouth, and you take it with no protest.

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

His chest radiated warmth as you melted into his embrace, your heartbeat gradually syncing with his steady rhythm. Your eyes remained closed as you hummed, "you never told me your name." 

A calloused palm rubs your shoulder, "In-ho." 

You smiled, repeating it, "In-ho. I like that much better than FrontMan." 

His fingers gently encircled your wrist, his touch spoke volumes. "Stay with me," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. You pushed yourself onto your elbow, looking down at him. "I am, " you whispered, but he shook his head and caressed your cheek. "Stay here with me. Help me run the whole fucking thing." The request entailed a lot and you weren't able to form a response, stunned by such a proposal, but then you thought it over. There was nothing left for you back home except your emergency medical clinic, which could indeed survive without you. Your father was fine and could take care of himself as long as he had his money. All you contained was a large sum of untouched money. You bit your lip, looking back at him. "Alright." 

->Part Two <-

[cloudwisp]

Husband Wriothesley, who teases you for being a lightweight when you’ve only had one glass of wine during date night as he makes the journey back home with you on his back. You’re an adorable giggling mess, unable to contain your love and affection you reach around to smooch his cheek and playfully bite his shoulder because that’s what he does to you—words alone can’t express just how much you adore this man and you have to channel it through other means. He warns you that if you keep giving him bite marks he might just drop you and loosens his grip to make it seem so. He chuckles at the sound of you squealing as your arms and legs tighten around him and he readjusts his hold on you so you’re secured once more. He wonders how such a sweet thing like you can cause so much trouble. Not that he’s complaining, he actually finds it quite endearing.

Husband Wriothesley, who kneels down to help you slip on your heels after you’re dressed in a gown to attend the evening shows at the opera epiclese. You’re holding onto his shoulder for support while he moves with ease to slide your foot into your beautiful new pair of heels—his fingers gently wrapped around your ankle and thumb rubbing soft circles against the bone for a moment before he works on the other one. If only he could trail kisses up along your leg and inner thigh, but he supposes that will have to wait until later tonight unless he wants to get an earful from you about not wanting to be late. All your husband asks for in return is sweet kisses from you, when you both kissed plenty not even ten minutes ago but it seems he can’t get enough of his darling wife.

Husband Wriothesley, who begins to make drafts and plans for a summer house surrounded by greenery with breathtaking views on the first year of marriage. It’s a different kind of life compared to the apartments next to the bustling streets in Fontaine city, along with the Fortress also being your second home. He includes all the features you’d want in a dream home. Like a stargazing room with glass ceiling panels so you can admire the stars and moon at night. A secret library where you can hideout and bury your nose in books for hours on end, or even a beautiful porch on a wooden deck with cushioned chairs overlooking the verdant field where maybe someday you both can watch your children play together. Wriothesley is more than willing to give you everything you want and more in this lifetime and he always make sure each gift counts.

[darkst4lker]

crawling back to you. // sirius black

marauders era!sirius black x slytherin!reader

plot: sirius and you had been forced to be engaged by your families with the intention of maintain blood purity since you were twelve and he was thirteen. as time passed you became very close in an attempt to survive the situation together but you didn't expected him to leave you behind when he escaped from his family home. months later you decided to follow his steps and like clockwork, you were on the doorstep of the potters, crawling back to sirius one last time. tw: fem!reader, ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LENGUAGE!!, a lot of fluff, mentions of smut (nothing graphic), trauma, abusive families, forced engagement, very slightly unhealthy romantic dynamics between reader and sirius, a lot of angst and trauma bonding. maybe a bit of ooc sirius. notes: hiiii, this was supposed to be a christmas special but i didn't got to post it on time lmao, please enjoy it. this has a couple references to some songs!! iykyk, also my apologies for being so slow with requests i swear i am working on them i just can't help writing a thousand things at the same time. AND YES there's another sirius one-shot in the making that will be ready soon!! stay tuned!!

your steps were quick even in the cold, cruel snow. it was christmas eve, and a fast look to the clock on your right wrist announced that in two hours would be midnight.

the truth was that you never left your home this late without your parents. and for the first time the wand with a dragon heartstring core hiding in your sleeve didn't provide the safety feeling it did inside of hogwarts.

godric's hollow was full of christmas lights in every house, but the tears that left your eyes proved that you weren't in the mood to acknowledge the beauty of that special night. unlike the last sixteen years in your life, christmas felt uncomfortable and unfamiliar.

nervousness flooded your guts, doubts of the possible resolutions surrounding what you were about to do. the violent and suffocating memories of better times, or worst times if you looked at it from the perspective of the person you shouldn't have fallen in love with were destroying your insides.

and not to mention the ghost of the choice you made, lingering on your face in the form of a bruise you dear mother had planted on your cheek just like a loving kiss.

and the irony of the matter was, that your mother was the one to blame for all the things that were happening.

she had personally arranged your engagement with sirius orion black when you were twelve. she had made you fit into pretty dresses for all the parties in the black family home. she had taught you to care for him, to like him. she put sirius in your life and now that you loved him, fulfilling her desires, she hated you for it.

yet your loyalties were set. and there was no turning back now.

you remembered the night you met sirius, in his family home. grimmauld place was full of pureblood friends of both of your parents and your whole families.

in a display of respect, your parents had put you in a lovely and quite formal black dress. it was uncomfortable but for your mother, you tried.

you always tried.

you were born trying.

and in the moment you saw sirius, who you had seen before in hogwarts but never in detail, a sigh left your lips.

sirius was beautiful, dark. an obscure aura surrounded his face features, proving in an instant he had inherited all his family traits and even perfected them. yet the detail that stayed in your heart was the rebellious look on his face that never left even years later.

his eyes spoke in a secret language, subtly announcing he was a miracle of nature, the lion who was born in a snake nest.

and you quickly understood him. from the way his tie and hair were a bit messy, to the glass of wine he "accidentally" spilled on his mother. you noticed every act of silent revolution, and in some way you adored it.

almost by the end of the night, your parents left the both of you alone in the living room while his parents made a tour of the house for the guests.

to sirius, the first words you said to each other were always haunting his home and when he left, he carried them his chest like a knife, a vestige of resilience.

“i'm sorry.” it was the only words you could say. if sirius was angry before, you managed to escape from his temper radar.

he looked at you, a tortured sigh leaving his lips. his eyes now meeting yours and clouding your brain for a moment. the mesmerizing effect the sound of his voice provoked in your guts prophesied the sweet fate you would suffer one day.

“i'm sorry too.” he answered.

the two of you stayed in silence. sirius was starting to be known in hogwarts as a womanizer. he flirted with every person who caught his eye, and he wanted to experience them all. you were not one of them and you knew it.

he did not mess with slytherins. the known fame of being blood purists and dark wizards catched up with every kid who followed the serpent path even if you liked to think you were not like that because if you really weren't, most of your friends were.

in the end, you were associated with lucius, narcissa, evan and barty. you had hanged out with regulus multiple times, they were your friends and sirius obviously believed you were exactly like the most of them.

another pureblood perfect girl, raised to be tied to a man, bear an heir and die in the resentful solitude of her own home after a long unhappy and painful marriage.

but you knew from the start that you hated just the idea of it, even if was truly the life your parents planned for you because every single one of the things surrounding this kind of living was completely and utterly fake from the very beggining.

it was a game flooded with unhappiness, made to drain the joy of boys like sirius and sacrifice the girls like you by throwing them to the hungry wolves of motherhood.

yet, sirius had the typical greed of a young man and you wanted him to live the teenage love you craved to experience too. you had found a common ground, a piece to move on this board to save the both of you and help you stick together.

you clinged on this hope for dear life before speaking again.

“we don't need to love each other. i won't mind if you keep dating people .” you said, now avoiding his deep eyes. “the only thing i ask is for you to not treat me like an enemy.”

and that was the last thing you said to him before your parents appeared to announce you were leaving, bringing you back to the cold reality outside sirius presence.

after that night, you assumed he would ignore you in school but he didn't. it was a slow process for the both of you but after some time, he showed he now cared for you and you reciprocated.

when you were sick in the nursery, sirius would come around to check on you and he always brought you chocolate frogs. if he was irritated after losing a quidditch match, you would join his friends and take him to hogsmeade to cheer him up.

when your parents threatened you if you didn't had perfect grades, sirius would hug you. and when his parents got angry with him and sent horrible letters, you would hug him back.

sirius made you realize how abusive were your family and his, and how awful were your blood purist friends.

“someday i will leave my house.” he said to you one day while you were having lunch together in the gryffindor table. he didn't seem like he was joking. “and you need to leave too.”

“i don't know sirius. i'm not brave like you.” you answered. “i won't last outside my home, i love my parents.”

“you can't tolerate those assholes telling you what to do all your life.” he always answered when you had that same discussion. “they're going to ruin you in the end.”

and every single time, you fought back the urge to say that you were already ruined.

after a year you became friends, you thought. and when you reached your fourth year, it was clear you both were growing up. he got awfully handsome and a part of you started to fall for him.

every time the feeling invaded your chest, you dismissed it, because you knew he could never love you in the situation you were.

yet, he was still a man, and you started to caught his eye.

a new tradition settled between the both of you: once per week, you would have a date. it was in one of those dates where things would get even more messy than before.

“sirius.” you called him while you walked.

the hogsmeade streets were covered in thin snow, and you had insisted for hours to go to honeydukes but he had been too distracted in zonko's to hear you. now that you were outside, you were desperate to get something sweet.

“i know, honeydukes.” he answered, smilling. “i heard you the first million times you said it.”

“that means you were ignoring me!” you complained, taking your hand to your chest in a gesture of obvious fake offense. then a smile betrayed your little act. “you didn't answered at all inside there!”

sirius softly laughed, and you couldn't avoid noticing the way his leather jacket made him more attractive than you already thought he was.

“oh please, (y/n). you were being awfully persistent and i'm not a man of patience.” he said, jokingly. “would you have rather for me to shut up my beautiful future wife in front of everyone?” sirius added with certain sarcastic tone in his voice and then, he proceeded to softly ruffle your hair.

all he said was a painfully obvious joke, because he was messing with you. there was not a single hint of seriousness on his words and yet they went straight to your soul, making your heart painfully skip a beat.

after a while, you got to honeydukes and he decided to wait outside to smoke while you bought sweets. in the exact moment you were about to go outside with a plastic bag full of candy hanging from your hand, you casually saw through the store windows how sirius flirted with a girl you had seen in hogwarts multiple times. just as you opened the door to come back to him, he gave her a little peck and she left quickly like a breeze passing by.

it was not the first time you had seen something like that, nor the worst. many times before you even saw him making out with different people in hogwarts, but this had never happened in the middle of one of your weekly dates.

after that, you were incapable of hiding your new found bad mood the rest of your date, and sirius suggested in a caring gesture to get back to the school. of course he didn't knew why you were suddenly irritated, but he did noticed that something was happening and his first guess was that you needed to rest.

while you walked back to hogwarts, the bomb in your chest exploded. you stopped on your tracks and sirius walked a few steps before turning, a bit worried.

“hey, (y/n)." he said. "are you oka-...?”

the sudden sound of your voice interrupted him.

“are you really that good kissing girls?” it was the first thing that came out of your mouth. the words came out bitter. “or everyone says it because you just look good?”

“what?” his reaction was truly sincere in the amount of surprise he felt. that was probably the last thing sirius expected to hear from you, but he kept listening.

“seriously, i want to know. are you a good kisser?” you insisted. “because your brains are surely not enough to have the whole school crushing on you.”

“are you calling me stup-...?”

“i am asking why every single person who made out with you has to talk about how good you are.” you continued, still bitter. “because i don't wanna know, and i don't wanna hear it or see it. and i do think you're stupid indeed.”

of course you didn't really took sirius orion black for a stupid man, it was the anger in your throat talking shit you did not thought with the sole purpose of making him feel a bit bad.

sirius made a pause before talking, all the puzzle pieces suddenly falling into place and slowly revealing the motives of your fury. if you were another person he would probably stormed off by then, but you weren't.

and he surely was kind of enjoying this.

“(y/n), are you jealous?”

his question punched you in the face with the strength of a storm.

“no.” you quickly answered. a prideful word that slithered from your tongue in a desperate try to not appear vulnerable, until you fucked up by adding a question. “but why did you have to do that shit in one of our dates?”

a playful smile settled itself on his lips and you noticed he saw right through you. he always did, in some way.

“so you are jealous.” sirius stood with his arms crossed, looking at you. in a matter of seconds, you felt disarmed.

“of course not, why would i-...?” a desperate gasp drowned in your throat at the feeling of getting caught so quickly.

“for a slytherin, you're a terrible liar.” he said, shutting your words off. “but you're right, i'm sorry. i shouldn't have done that in our date.” he was still smiling like a tease.

“i-i-...” you stuttered.

your heartbeat was feral, and the way he calmly dismembered your worries made it all worse.

“you know, love, if you wanted a kiss you just had to ask for it.” sirius bet was high, he knew it. but he could see that you both needed this.

you felt your brain malfunctioning over his words yet you stayed prideful, not wanting to bend your dignity for him.

“i don't want-...”

suddenly, sirius approached you with brutal impulsiveness and got his final revenge for the multiple times you had interrupted him minutes ago. his lips met yours so fast that you dropped your bag of candy in the bare floor before your hands moved straight to hold his face.

he held your cheeks too, keeping you close as he took control. you were now trapped on sirius spell, and he proved how good of a kisser he truly was.

your first kiss, now layed on his heart forever. it would be another thing for him to treasure in the deep core of his soul when he ran away from his house years later.

after your mouths separateed it was clear that your irritation was gone. the look you gave to him in the close intimacy of the moment reminded him of a deer with big eyes.

“look at you, it this what it takes to soothe you?” he teased. “a couple of kisses and you're back to normal?”

you started to like the thought of marrying him.

“shut up, siri.”

it was in that exact moment when your relationship took a step further and making out in empty classrooms in the middle of the night at least once per month became a normal thing between you.

yet you knew he did the same with almost every walking girl on hogwarts so your illusions never grew because they were dead from the very start. it was okay. you didn't needed any exclusivity from him, sirius was feeding all the feelings you didn't fully notice you had and he was enjoying his teenage years.

it's okay, you repeated all the time to yourself. thinking about him with another person made you awfully jealous, but it was really okay. everything was right.

you didn't loved sirius black. yes, you liked him, he was handsome, mysterious and charismatic. the obscure aura that surrounded him still had its claws firmly dug into your skin since the first time you met him but still, you didn't loved sirius black.

or at least that was what you convinced yourself of.

then you got to fifth year and your parents got persistent with the fact that you needed to remain a virgin until you marry sirius. his parents were insisting too and before the year ended you were absolutely tired of it. in a new form of revolution, you and sirius got wilder every time you were alone.

your nights became the tale of a stygian lion hunting a dragon snake and sirius firmly believed he was hooked up to your venom. a soft, sweet serenade of kisses drowned in moonlight. but the innocence of it would die one specific night when he sneaked you into the gryffindor dorms while the students were partying in the common room.

you watched everyone drink and dance the night away while going up slowly by the stairs, sirius holding your hand. remus and james gave you a fast yet playful stare from the sofas of the common room and then you looked at sirius, who was distracted.

in that moment, like a melancholic joke of fate, sirius turned his head for a second to look at you. it was quick and barely noticeable but it was there, almost like orpheus guiding eurydice trough hell with the sole purpose of saving her yet carrying enough love inside of him to not resist the ought of looking if she was still there, with him.

once inside the dorm he guided you to his bed, he made sure to kiss your hands, arms, face and almost every part of you he could reach. sirius took care of all so you could focus on experimenting every single act of love executed that night.

he sneaked his hand between your legs and talked you through it softly, compelling you to fall apart into his arms. he held you tenderly when he went inside you, trying his best to not cause any pain and whispered sweet nothings in your ear as he guided you to your release.

it felt like if he had devoured your soul while allowing you to do the same to him, a ritualistic exchange that from that moment on, stayed in his skin like a tattoo.

you had your first time in sirius arms, and after you were done you knew that hurting you would never be part of his rebellion.

crying in each others arms after spending nights togehter also became more and more common as he started to fight more with his parents. as your fingers played with the dark locks of his hair before you felt asleep, it was clear that the doom for both of you was near and you could feel it.

“shh, everything is okay.” it was the tenth time you said that same sentence in the dark of night, holding sirius head against your chest as he silently cried. “i'm here, siri. we're going to be okay.”

“i just can't understand why they have to do this.” he whispered. “they don't see how much this is hurting us?”

you caressed his hair and his arms locked around your waist.

“i'm not sure what is crossing our parents minds.” you answered. “but i know we're going to survive this. together.”

sirius hid his face against you. his tears had stopped but his face was slightly red.

“one day i'll run away, and i will become a rockstar. and you will write and publish all the books you want.” he said. “we'll be free, i swear it on...”

he took a moment to think his next words.

“on...?” a weak smile settled on your face.

“on james. or maybe his mom.” sirius joked. “maybe on both of them so it's more important.” he laughed softly still having a sad undertone on his words.

you did the same as him, and your fingers interwined with his hair almost like rewarding the way he had managed to make you laugh.

“please don't leave without me.” you pleaded and words came like a whisper but sirius wasn't there to hear them, because he had fell asleep on your arms.

before you could noticed how cruel of a prankster fate can be, when you started your sixth year sirius instantly fleed his home and moved in with james potter.

chaos infested your families. your parents and his were livid, your mother was desperate to find you a new fiancé and sirius started to completely avoid you in hogwarts.

no more kissing, or long nights in each other's company. no more talking and sharing your worries. sirius made clear that you were now in different sides of the coin, and it destroyed your whole world in a second.

but at the same time you were in pain, the situation had woken a fierceness in your insides that you believed you had inside since you were born, but it was repressed for the sake of the peace in your family.

you were furious with your parents for controlling you, with sirius family for what they did to him, and with sirius himself for leaving you behind.

and that was the reason you were now approaching the potter's home with stolen money from your parents and all your luggage in the cold snow of christmas eve.

the truth was, you didn't know what you were exactly expecting or seeking. what you did know was that you wanted sirius to look at you in the eyes one last time and acknowledge your existence, your presence, your tears.

you wanted him to know that even if his family didn't care, you were in pain because you did.

so, with your heart in your throat and your soul hanging from your hands in despair you knocked at the door and patiently waited.

you were freezing outside the house but it didn't mattered anymore. the motivation in your chest eliminated all the doubts you could ever have.

when the door finally opened, james potter face received you. he had a smile on his face that almost faded in disbelief when he saw you.

“oh shit- sorry, hello (y/n).” he said, clearly surprised but polite. “are you okay? can i help you?”

“sorry james, i don't mean to intrude this late on a day like this one” you said, a certain weakness clouding your voice in melancholic chords. “can i speak to sirius?”

james looked at you, not really knowing what to say.

“i- yes, sure.” he finally answered. “do you want to come in?”

“no, it's okay. i don't want to be invasive.” you said. “it'll be really fast.”

the boy in front of you sighed and fixed the position of his glasses. then he gave you a weak smile.

it was not that james didn't liked you because in fact he did, he just had the fear that you were here to convince sirius of coming back home.

a quick and more detailed look at your face and he realized that was not the reason you were in his doorstep.

“i'll go get him, give me a second.” was what he said before entering the house again, leaving the door a bit opened.

you peeked briefly and a warm light recieved you along with the smell of food, making painfully obvious that you hadn't eaten anything since breakfast.

a few seconds later, sirius appeared completely opening the door in a fast and almost desperate move like if you were going to vanish if he didn't got to you quick enough.

james was behind him, distant to the conversation but still supervising to defend his friend if necessary.

“(y/n)” said sirius, looking at you like if you weren't real.

“merry christmas, siri.” you said, greeting him. the first words you both exchanged in months.

the nickname pierced his skin with violence, the vestiges of you and him were standing strong like an unforgettable oath in the corners of his brain.

your face was wet by tears and a subtone of red clouded your cheeks because of the cold and the bruise on your cheek was getting more purple as time went by. his eyes met yours, speaking that same old secret lenguage you now understood. then, you took a deep breath.

“what happened? what are you doing here?” he asked, confused and quite worried. “who hurted you? where are your parents?”

“i ran away from home.” you confessed, answering absolutely and every single one of his questions the sentence twisted sirius guts into oblivion and he stayed silent, thinking what to say.

he wanted to take you in, bring you to live with the potters, shelter you from the cold, heal your wounds and kiss your forehead even if he knew it wasn't that easy. you continued speaking.

“i don't expect you to welcome me into your life again, i assumed you wanted to distance yourself from the part of you that obviously includes me.” you started saying, measuring every word. sirius sighed. “but before we don't see eachother again, i need to tell you what i feel.”

there was a brief silence, and you swallowed back tears.

“i have imagined a thousand times what could be the result of coming here and speak about this, none of them had exactly a happy ending because i know by heart that you don't feel the same as me.” every word hurted you more than you thought. “but now that i've burned everything and followed your path, i have nothing more to lose.”

sirius looked at you and again, he saw righ through you. an understanding smile appeared on his lips, inviting you to continue.

“im listening, love.” he dared to say, noticing you were struggling to continue.

you took another deep breath before speaking.

“i've hated my parents since i was born, im sure of it. and just like you, when they trapped us in this mess, i was livid.” that was it, words started to come out one after the other. “but i was trained to endure so i tried my best to get along with you like my mom taught me. she always said to me that love wasn't important when it came to duty, and that my duty was to learn how to love you, respect you and give you kids. and if i didn't wanted to obey, she would hit me.” you sobbed, and sirius took a couple of steps closer to you.

the nasty mark on your cheek made clear to him that obeying your mother was exactly what got you that bruise. a bruise earned out of devotion for sirius, even if he didn't fully knew that yet.

he used his hand to fix a hair that kept falling on your face, and dismissed one of your tears carefully with his thumb.

“i know what youre thinking, because i thought the same every single time she explained that to me and yet, i tried to follow her words the best i could. and after getting to know you better and speaking of our shitty parents, i started to feel things. i was too young to notice but i know now that i've been going trough this for ages.” air got stuck in your throat, you talked too fast. “and i know i am giving it way too much thought, but my point is that i love you. and i've been doing so not long after i met you. i died inside everytime we layed on your bed and you spoke of getting away from your family because even if it was by the will of our sick, twisted parents, i really wanted to marry you.”

sirius wiped your tears again, giving you all his attention.

“but with time i changed my mind. i don't want to marry you because we have to but because we have the desire to do it. i really just want you to be happy siri, but before leaving me like that you need to tell me because-...” you sobbed again, and sirius caressed your cheek, soothing your cries. “you need to know that your parents, your brother, your cousins; they may not care but i do, i desperately do. im in an awful pain because i care for you so much that when you left everything fell apart in my life, and now im once again crawling back to you like i always do, hoping that you may want to have me.” you finished your monologue, one that you practiced a thousand times before this moment only to end up saying everything by heart and not by practice.

when you ended up talking, your body finally gave you proper permission to burst into tears. sirius recieved you in his arms by hugging you tightly and that was the first moments of warmth you got after a long time.

“shh, it's okay. you're okay now.” one of sirius hands caressed your back and the other went tenderly to your hair. “i'm sorry i left without saying anything and ignored you after.” he apologized, holding back some tears because seeing how you were crying was starting to make him to cry too.

“i really thought that you would be happier and better marrying someone picked by your parents, i had nothing to offer and being seen with a blood traitor would had ruined your image.” he continued. “i-i know it's a stupid reason, but what you said to me years ago sticked with me. you said you weren't strong enough to leave your parents, and i decided you didn't needed to get your life with your parents ruined because of my choices”

“b-but we talked about us running away before.” you answered, raising your head to look at him.

“we did, but once i did it i got so scared-.. ” tears finally won over him and he sobbed. “because i had nothing to offer you, not a home, not a way to protect you and even less money. i would be ruined if it wasn't for james and his family.”

you held him more tightly, as if you were about to melt with each other.

“and the cherry on top was that i thought you didn't loved me.” he admitted. “i was convinced that you didn't wanted to marry me or be with me. leaving was also my way of freeing you from us.”

you broke the hug for a moment, just like the first time he kissed you, you suddenly pulled him to you to lovingly smash your lips against his.

for the first time in a long time, sirius black was genuinely surprised. he grabbed your face and you kissed him softly, the love you spoke of was real.

all his doubts vanished in the cold wind, almost like sealing an oath of devotion. nothing in your sixteen years of life would had prepared you to reveal the secrets you've held inside your heart, but now that you did it and he did too, there was no turning back.

you quickly understood that your place, your home, your family, had always been sirius. the only person who understood the living hell you were going through and who did his best to make it better just like you did with him.

finally, the tale of the the snake and the lion was getting a resolution and they were now finding their ways back to each other's hearts like a forgotten mantra coming back from the death to be recited one more time.

“i love you, sirius.” was the first thing you said when you separated.

“i love you too.” he answered, still holding your face.

after a moment, when the both of you finally stopped crying, sirius interrogated you about where were you going to spend the night.

you didn't planned to stay at the potter's that night, but james had listened everything from where he stood and being the blast of sun and sweetness he was, he spoke to his parents and in an instant you were spending christmas in a warm house with sirius, james and his family.

that night in sirius room, the two of you layed together like many times before. his head on your chest, arms in your waist and your fingers playing with his hair while your other hand sweetly caressed his back.

this time was completely different though, because the whispering conversation wasn't about running away from your parents or his. this time, for the first time, you spoke of what you felt for each other.

“i love you forever.” he said in one moment. your heart jumped of emotion.

“i love you too, siri.” you answered.

he sighed in your chest.

“you don't know how much i awfully missed you” sirius admitted, moving to kiss you innocently on the neck.

“i missed you too, more than i thought i could.” you said, closing your eyes, ready to sleep intertwined with him.

those were the same exact words you would repeat to each other years later when you finally reunited, after fate violently separated the both of you and your godson, harry potter, managed to reveal the truth of the man who betrayed his parents.

and once again you would hold him in the deep night, now inside of grimmauld place, the very house he was raised in.

the house who saw your love being gestated in the middle of a poisoned river.

but now, you both were cleaning the violence, the traumatic memories and the haunted voices out of every wall; writing in the ceiling that a love this strong may never die.

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS!! i do think the ending is awful oh my god i might change it. anyways, be safe. xoxo.

[lotusunique]

Kiss & Makeup

The reader and Nicholas get into a petty argument they decide to squash one way or another.

Nicholas Chavez x Fem! Reader!

Smut Warning, Praise Kink!

You silently held your breath ,seething with rage. You knew Nicholas could tell you were pissed off. The silence that consumed the black suburban truck on the ride to you guys shared house was obvious enough.

“Are you gonna talk or just continue with the silent treatment ?”, he asks following you into the house.

“Depends. You gonna pretend like you weren’t eye fucking the waitress back there?”, you say, not looking at him and placing your bag onto the counter top of your kitchen .

“Oh my god. Here we go with the jealousy.” , He rolls his eyes. “So I’m jealous because you like to eye fuck waitresses while I’m sitting right across from you?”,You let out a loud cackle. Stunned at the audacity he had.

“Y/n. She was taking our order. All she did was bring out our food. You’re always acting crazy”,He groans. “Now you’re saying I’m a crazy bitch. Got you”,You nod before giving a tight lipped smile and grabbing a bottle of wine from your liquor cabinet. The only thing that might make you calm down was a glass of red. He lets out a scoff

“I am so sick of this petty bullshit Y/n.”,He yells over at you. “And you don’t think I’m sick of your bullshit. You think cause you’re soooo’ fine you can do whatever the fuck you want”,you yell back before chugging the wine.

“I never said I can do whatever I wanted. You really think that just because girls flirt with me that it means I’m gonna go be with them?”, he runs his hands through his hair, obviously stressed by the conversation.

You make your way over to him, “And I never said that. Don’t put words in my mouth.”, you step into his space. You see him go to open his mouth with a smile on his face before he closes it. “Don’t”,you warn him.

“All that jealousy shit is just rooted in the idea that you don’t think anyone can love you.”,he fires back. You eye him, letting your mouth drop open.

“You know what Nicholas. Fuck you”, the bitter words drip off your tongue . “No, Y/n. Fuck you.”,he shouts. It only takes a second for you to realize how attractive he looks. You forgot he was sexy when he’s mad.

The air thickens as the tension between you two surrounds you. Within an instant he smashes his lips against yours, your hands making their way through his hair as his make their way down your body.

You feel his hands at the brim of your thighs and a loud rip at the bottom of your dress. You pull away from his kiss before raising an eyebrow.

He leans into you, his lips brushing softly against your ear and cheek.“Don’t worry pretty girl, I’ll buy you a new one”,He says before making a trail of soft kisses down your neck while ripping up the dress again.

He softly rubs his fingers against your pussy lips before entering two into you, causing you to let out a loud moan. He quickens the pace, watching you become a mess all at his hands.

He picks you up, and lays you on the granite kitchen island before starting the process all over again. “Mannn nobody eating on here for weeks”, you think to yourself, internally chuckling.

This time he attaches his mouth to your clit, sucking whilst putting two fingers into you like before. It drives you crazy and causes you to scream out in pleasure. “Fuck! Yes oh Yes!”,you yell out as your orgasm comes to a crashing high.

“You okay baby?”,he laughs at the state your in. “Un huh. I’m great”,you breathe heavily. “Okay good”,He smiles a mischievous look spreading across his face.

He lines himself up at your entrance, flashing you a look to make sure you’re ok with this.

You nod, giving him an “I’m sure” look.

He traces his tip up and down the opening your pussy.

“Please stop teasing me”,You plead, impatiently wanting him. “You’re so pretty when you beg”, he smiles looking down at you. “Let me hear it one more time gorgeous and I’ll consider it.”,he flashes those perfect teeth of his down at you.

He enters you slowly at first before picking up the pace,causing you to let out multiple moans as he lets out a few groans.

You arch your back as the pulsing sensation overtakes your body, your pussy clenching at the rough yet amazing feeling. The feeling seemed to be over taking your body as every inch went further and further inside you.

“This is what you wanted right baby?”,he says sensing you’re getting closer and closer. “Yes Baby.”,you struggle to voice. “It’s okay gorgeous you can let it out”,he smiles down, watching the sight of you.

“You look so pretty when you take it”, He places a kiss upon your lips and that’s all it takes to send your orgasmto screaming high.

His does the same as the two of you pant and attempt to catch your breath.

“Whew”, you sit up, hugging him tightly. “Bet you the waitress wishes she was me just now because damn”,You laugh aloud.

“Would you hush and kiss me woman.”, Nicholas smiles at you before you lean up to kiss him.

Hey guys! I have 2-3 more coming out! I hope you guys liked this one ♥️🙂

Taglist: @penny44224 @luv-alicia @syraxnyra @piscesprincessworld @vdotcom @aaliyahsroses @tragicdiary @scknights @aegonsslxt @kingdomswifft @jaylalolz @elthoughtzos

[watchmegetobsessed]

THE HAPPIEST

A/N: happy birthday to our favorite boo!🎉

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

SUMMARY: It's Harry's birthday, he is surrounded by his friends, but all he wants is to talk things out with Y/N.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

The room is full of people Harry loves and that is actually all he wished for his 31st birthday. Even though he’s been on a long.stretched break in the past year, it’s still tough to gather all his favorite people in one room, since life didn’t stop for everyone else while he was getting his well-deserved rest after such a hectic period in his life. 

With a drink in his hand he is standing by the bar of the private room of a popular cocktail place his friends recommended for the occasion. It’s spacious enough to fit over thirty people, there are plenty of seats, a private bar so they don’t have to leave the hidden bubble and even a small dance floor was fitted in one corner with a karaoke machine as well. Just the perfect spot for an amazing night. 

Taking a sip from his drink he glances over the rim of his glass and runs his gaze over the room, probably for the fiftieth time in the past hour or so. No matter how many times he tells himself to just relax and forget about it, he simply can’t. 

Though he seems happy and carefree, the people around him have no idea just how frustrating the last few days of thirty were. All because of her.

Y/N was an old friend of Harry’s, they’ve known each other from the times he was still touring with the band. Their bond formed quickly and strongly and Harry could never deny he always felt a little more than just friendship for her, but the time just never felt right. Relationships, work, moving, it felt like everything around them was urging them to stay as they were, right until a few months ago. 

Y/N was visiting Harry in London, both of them eager to spend some quality time together, but one late night talking with a bottle of wine finally blurred the line between them. A more than friendly dynamic started between them and to Harry, nothing has ever felt as right as being with Y/N.

But her last relationship ended quite terribly and she was cautious, which Harry understood and more than happily accepted. They moved slowly, though Harry could feel himself fall harder and harder with every passing day while she stayed just as prudent as in the beginning and he felt like they were out of sync. 

Then a few days ago he couldn’t hold it in any longer and brought it up. All he wanted was just a discussion and to find common ground, to figure out where they are heading, but it somehow turned into a fight. Harry was adamant, wanting to make them official and take the leap while she argued with him to just stay as they are, to which Harry questioned her what they truly were, but she couldn’t answer. 

It ended quite nastily and she just left. Later that night Harry tried to call her, but she only texted him asking for some time to think. Now it’s been two days and the no contact is slowly killing him on the inside, but he is trying his best to respect her will and just hope for the best. He’s been anticipating her arrival all evening, though part of him is not sure she’ll show up at this point. In that case that will be a rather clear message for him about where they are heading. 

Down the drain, he thinks to himself and ignores the ache in his chest at the thought of losing her, because he wouldn’t be losing his lover but a close friend as well, so that would be a double heartbreak for his birthday with a bow on top. 

“Birthday boy! You have to be the first one singing!” someone shouts at Harry and a moment later he can feel himself being dragged towards the karaoke machine. With a chuckle he lets himself get busied, hoping he would stop staring at the entrance. 

A handful of songs later Harry is behind the mic again, attempting to sing a Chappell Roan song he only heard maybe twice before, but someone else chose it for him. He is focusing on the words, laughing along with his friends when he falls out of rhythm because he can’t read the screen fast enough. 

One hand holding the mic, the other one has his drink, he is sloshing it around as he is urging his audience to join the singing. His eyes flicker up from the screen for just one split second, but his stomach immediately drops when they land on a face he’s been looking for all evening. 

Y/N is standing in the back, watching him with a soft smile that has his gut in a clench right away. 

She came.

He forgets about the lyrics, making his friends laugh which snaps him out of his shock and he returns to his performance, but now every time he looks up from the screen he is only looking at her. 

When the song is over they want to keep him for another, but he successfully slips away, but he also loses sight of her in just a minute. As discreetly as possible, he is trying to spot her in the room as he heads to the bar, but she is nowhere to be found. 

Was he just hallucinating? Where could she go so fast? 

He can barely swallow his disappointment as the bartender hands him his new drink, but before he could fall deeper into his self pity, there’s a gentle tap on his shoulder. He turns around and the warmth is instantly back in his chest.

“Happy birthday.” Y/N smiles at him shyly, as if she is not sure what to do or say. 

“Thank you,” Harry breathes, the urge to wrap his arms around her is strong, but he orders himself to stay put and not cross any boundaries. Besides, public affection was part of their argument, since Y/N didn’t want people to get the wrong idea if they saw them physically close. “I uh… I’m glad you’re here.”

Her eyes soften. 

“Me too,” she replies, barely audible. 

“Do you… want to talk? There’s a small terrace at the back, we could–”

“Maybe later. Is that okay?” 

“Yeah.” Harry nods, hiding his disappointment. He would rather settle the weird tension between them, but he doesn’t want to push her too much. 

“Harry, hey!” someone emerges from the side, popping their little bubble. He swallows his irritation and politely greets the new guests, his jaw clenches when he sees Y/N slipping away from beside him. 

At least she is here, he reminds himself. They will talk this out, he just has to be patient. 

For the next hour or so he keeps an eye on Y/N no matter how far they are from each other in the room, wanting to make sure she’s still there. With several mutual friends, Y/N quickly finds familiar faces and blends in pretty easily and though it appears she is not too bothered by their current situation, Harry often catches her looking at him as well. Every time their eyes meet he gives her a soft smile and she always returns. 

At one point Harry is finally left alone at the bar as he waits for his next drink, gaze glued to Y/N from across the room, of course. This time, she is looking back at him just as intently and he can tell her mind is racing about something he wishes to know. He is just about to make a move and get closer to her, hoping to talk to her, but she beats him. 

Surprisingly, she excuses herself from the group she’s been talking to, crossing the room heading straight towards him. His heart is hammering against his ribs, because it feels like something major is about to happen, but right when she is about to reach him a small group steps to him, engaging him in their conversation, ruining her chance of going through with whatever she had in mind. Harry panics, not wanting her to leave, so before she could escape he reaches out, gently takes her hand and pulls her into the little circle.

The touch of her skin against his palm feels heavenly and makes him want more, but he forces himself to let go. His hand falls back to his side, his skin buzzing from such a small touch and he tries to focus on the conversation because otherwise he would be staring at Y/N. 

But to his surprise, a few seconds later her hand slips back into his palm, fingers lacing together with his and she moves closer to him until she is pressed up against his arm. Harry can’t mask his astonishment as he finally looks at her, but his hand closes around hers without a second thought. They look at each other, talking without words, but they are both clear about the message.

Harry can’t hold his growing smile back, which makes her chuckle as well before she hides her face in his shoulder. A moment later Harry lets go of her hand but only so he can circle his arms around her waist and pull her in front of him, holding her tight in his embrace as they join the conversation again, the others didn’t even notice a single thing of what just went down. Y/N happily leans her back against his front, hands covering his on her stomach as their body heat becomes one. 

“Now it’s a happy birthday,” Harry whispers into her ear so only she can hear his words. She smiles, turns her head and gently kisses his lips before he adds: “The happiest.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[susicheng]

⋆.˚ i spy with my little eye — l.mk

this is an 18+ work. mdni secret agent! mark x secret agent! reader warnings: death + murder, guns, knives (not used between each other) contains: oral (f receiving, mentioned m receiving), safe sex, piv, mentioned fingering, tease! mark word count: 2376

assignments like this one were always the most irritating. shoved into a tight gown, too much skin visible to any of the rich douchebags surrounding you. a knife pressing against your thigh where it’s tucked into a garter belt discreetly. an earpiece hidden by the over-the-top updo drowned in gallons of hairspray. the sickening sweet scent of perfume lingering on your skin to appeal to the prey. 

the only consolation was knowing your agency wasn’t the only one with commissions for tonight. with this many wealthy men and women in one place, there had to be other targets beyond your own. though, you couldn’t help but hope that meant you’d see who you were really watching for.

that’s how these things always went. you kept an eye on the pig you were assigned to dispose of, and another on the man who erased their touches with his tongue and teeth.

it didn’t take long. you spotted the target before finishing your first glass of wine. so much for a pleasant conversation before enduring the leering glances and clumsy flirting from someone old enough to be your father.

time to play the game. with a final sip of wine and a subtle adjustment to your dress, you moved toward him. a smirk curled your lips as you approached, feigning a stumble to fall into his arms. his annoyance at first contact quickly melted into intrigue as he took in your fluttering lashes and too-innocent expression. you were in.

too many lingering touches, too many thinly veiled innuendos, and far too many explicit remarks later, he was convinced to “find somewhere more private.” by now, the powder slipped into his drink should have started working. his movements slowed, his steps unsteady as the two of you entered a private room.

the door shut behind you two. a hand slid to your waist, and then up, up, up. he didn’t hesitate to cop a feel before pressing his greasy hand firmly against your mouth. you felt the cold press of a gun barrel to your temple. 

“pretty young things like you only approach me for two reasons.” he hissed.

he cocked the gun.

“you either want me dead, or you want to be spoiled.”

“judging by this little thing…” he used the gun to push your hair behind your ear, tap, tap, tapping on the earpiece previously hidden beneath it. his voice lowered to a whisper. “you’re here for the first one.”

it wasn’t the first time a target had figured you out. honestly, it was refreshing that he realized attractive women don’t usually flock to men like him. not that it made him any less deserving of a bullet.

he didn’t get the chance to finish you. with a quick twist and a knee to the groin, the gun was yours, and he was on the floor. now, it was your turn to press the barrel to his forehead.

“you’re smarter than you look,” you sneered. “still slow, though. that wine wasn’t just alcohol, y’know?” 

his grin was sharp, defiant. his hand shot up your dress, pulling your knife from its hiding spot and plunging it into your thigh before you could dodge. instinct made you pull the trigger. 

the gunshot echoed, his blood painting your dress a deep burgundy. pain shot through your leg, the knife buried deep in the muscle. with an easy press to your earpiece, and a murmured “it’s done” you disconnected it and took a deep breath. you had had enough of people barking demands in your ear all night.

suddenly, the doorknob rattled. you raised the gun, limping toward the door. it opened, and a figure entered swiftly.

before they could react, you had them pressed against the wall, the gun at their temple, your arm pressing against their throat as blood dripped to the floor.

“jesus. i check to see if you’re alive and i get jumped!?” they rasped, hands scrambling to pull at your arm.

you stepped back immediately, recognition hitting you like a slap to the face.

“mark?”

his laughter filled the room as you pulled him into a hug.

“holy shit, mark. you scared the shit out of me. i thought i was about to get found out.”

his arms wrapped around your waist and squeezed you against him. you winced at the pressure it put on your thigh. mark pushed you back immediately, dropping to his knees and pulling your dress to the side from the slit in the long fabric.

“my god, you have an entire fucking knife in your leg! and you were still trying to put a bullet in my head?”

you had to say, the sight of him between your legs like that might have been doing something to your body, especially when his stern gaze met yours, making you inhale a sharp gasp. something in you tightened.

a disbelieved laugh echoed through the silent room. “no way you’re turned on right now. there’s a dead guy less than 2 feet from us and there’s a dagger sticking out of you. absolutely nothing is happening until you aren’t actively bleeding on the floor.”

you grumbled as he stood and lifted you into his arms easily, stepping over the corpse as he carried you further into the room, to the bed.

“y’know,” you said with a smirk, “you just said nothing’s happening, and now you’re carrying me to the bed. mixed signals, mark.”

he rolled his eyes as he gently laid you onto the plush sheets of a hotel bed too luxurious to be familiar with the stain of red seeping into it. 

the moment you opened your mouth to continue your teasing, mark decided to tug the dagger out of your leg, eliciting a loud groan of pain. somehow he had found a first aid kit. how, you’re not sure, but mark always had a trick or two up his sleeve. obviously, being in this field had caused both of you to pick up some life-saving medical tricks. his hands moved with practiced efficiency, stitching and wrapping the wound with care.

“all done,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to the bandages.

your fingers tangled in his hair as fire lit in your eyes.

“you sure nothing’s happening?” you murmured, voice low and teasing.

mark sighed, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. “you’re impossible.”

“you’re already down there… might as well finish what you started.”

you didn’t miss the way mark’s eyes fell to the thin piece of fabric separating himself from your core. when he met your eyes again, there was heat in his gaze. a subtle nod from you, and he was sliding your underwear down your legs, throwing the garment somewhere onto the hotel floor. 

he dove into you with an eagerness you were not prepared for, grip on his hair tightening as a whine slid out from between your lips. his tongue moved expertly, pressing every button he could to work you up. his arms adjusted to wrap around your thighs (careful to avoid pressing on your wound), effectively pinning you down. all of your squirming and hair pulling was futile as mark dove deeper and held you tight against his mouth.

your whimpers were increasing in frequency, hands tugging hard on his hair as you desperately tried to pull him away from his place between your thighs.

“mark— mark, wait.” you gasped. “mark— need you… inside. please”

just when your orgasm was about to crash into you, he pulled himself away, adjusting to kiss up and down your thighs instead. your whine, of relief and of annoyance at your denied pleasure, filled the room as he continued to happily mark up your inner thighs, your hands still attempting to pull him upwards and get a move on.

that was one thing about you and mark that was different. he preferred to take his time. he liked to take you apart, piece by piece. cover the touches of your targets with touches of his own. make your body forget that it had ever been defiled by anyone other than mark himself. you, though, were impatient. you hated begging for what you wanted. you preferred to get what you need without much trouble.

something about the way mark forced you to be patient, though, was undeniably attractive. working you up until all you could think about was him, and then giving you an orgasm satisfying enough to last until the next time a mission overlapped. you couldn’t help yourself from craving him 24/7, though, despite the fact that it would never be possible to pursue a relationship given your careers. for now, these spontaneous rendezvous were enough for you. 

with one final tug, after what felt like hours, mark relented and allowed himself to be pulled up your body. your lips finally met for the first time that night, your own taste lingering on his tongue. 

“get inside of me. now.” you pulled him down further to whisper in his ear, delighting in the groan it earned from him.

“condom?” you sighed and reached into your bra, pulling the condom you had stashed there out and handing it to mark. the placement brought another smile of disbelief to his face, shaking his head as he unzipped his dress pants.

you hadn’t really had the time to appreciate it fully, but he looked good in a suit. you let your eyes drag up and down his body, gaze lingering on his now exposed dick as he rolled the condom on smoothly.

“ready?” you snapped your eyes up to his, meeting the smug expression on his face with a roll of your eyes.

“mark, if you don’t get inside of me right now, i might grab that gun and put a bullet in your leg.” his laughter echoed as he busied himself with lining himself up to your entrance.

he slid in smoothly, bottoming out with twin groans escaping both of your mouths. this part was always surprising to you. every time you saw each other again, it felt like he had gotten bigger. pressing deep into every part of you. he barely had to angle himself to hit all of the spots that elicited loud moans from you.

his movements began slow, his kisses traveling down the side of your neck and over the exposed parts of your cleavage. he had always liked leaving marks on you, painting you in shades of purple and red that he scanned your body for even when it had been months since you had last seen him. his kisses turned sharper, teeth infiltrating and pulling on your skin, as he picked up his pace. your hands clawed down his clothed back, one sliding up to wrap into his hair and pull him back up to meet your lips. with the moans you were letting out, and the grin on mark’s face, there wasn’t much actual kissing happening. 

“you look really good covered in blood, by the way.” he gasped out against your lips, reminding you of the blood that had splattered over your entire body when you had shot the man still lying in the hotel room earlier.

stunned laughter sounded from your lips, morphing into a strained moan when one of mark’s hands slid down to press against your clit, the other arm working to hold himself up. 

it didn’t take long for you to get close. his tenderness as he treated your wound worked you up more than you would care to admit, and he worked you halfway to transcending into another dimension when he ate you out.

“mark— mark. i’m,” you subconsciously clenched down on him, hard, pulling a hiss from his lips. “i’m close. please.” 

he doubled his efforts, shifting down so his lips were brushing your ear as he spoke.

“yeah? go ahead. cum for me, pretty.”

the raspiness of his voice, his steady thrusts into you, his fingers abusing your most sensitive spot, all of it worked to push you easily over the edge, whimpering his name as he shuddered with you, flooding the condom with his own release. 

you panted against each other for a who knows how long, until mark pulled out and tied off the condom, throwing it into the trash can placed in the corner of the room. he pulled you up, ignoring your whines and complaints as he dragged you into the bathroom to wash up.

after a quick shower together, in which you got on your knees to repay the favor from earlier and mark thanked you by burying his fingers inside of you until your legs were so shaky he had to carry you out of the tub, you worked together to scrub at your bloodstained dress. you shot a message to your agency’s cleanup crew, providing them with a room number as you blow dried the expensive fabric of your dress. thankfully, most of the more noticeable splatters had been mostly washed out. the worst of it was on the torso.

mark handed you his jacket to wear over the dress, effectively hiding the evidence of your kill. you tried to be discreet when you inhaled his scent surrounding you, but you still heard mark bark out a laugh, shutting down any thoughts that you had succeeded at that.

this part was always the hardest. leaving the hotel room hand in hand, still bantering as you made your way to the lobby, where the party had mostly vacated by now. making excuses to stay together. 

“i’ll treat you to a quick dinner” led to “let’s just have a quick smoke break” which ultimately faded into “i’ll call you a ride. let me wait with you so i know you make it safely.”

getting into the car was difficult, mark leaving you with lingering kisses and promises gently whispered into your ear. 

it wasn’t until you made it home that you noticed it. casually reaching into your (mark’s) pocket, instinctively looking for your phone there (which was still sitting safely in your purse), you found a small slip of paper. a smile spread across your face as you took in the contents.

0802 127th street

if you ever get sick of rushed one-night stands, find me here :)

— mark

© susicheng .. please do not copy, reupload, or translate my work

mel yaps: this is my REAL 200 (now almost 300) follower special!! hope u all enjoy hehe.. fraktsiya mark has been clouding my brain for far too long i had to get it out of my system.

#: @f6llsun @i03jae @jeonghansshitester @holyhaech @chenlezip @mi1kteaa

[dcxdpdabbles]

#Holiday Request I love all your AUs so much, thank you for sharing them! I've been craving some Bruce/Danny lately, would you be willing to write more of Freelance Inventor?

Danny helps his mom set the foldable table, lining it up with their dinner table and the second one he had placed previously. Quickly cleaning off the surface with a wet rag, Danny ensures there is no dust before laying a lovely red tablecloth on it.

The red material nearly hides the poinsettia embroiled in the design in a darker shade of red. He runs his hands over it, smiling at the memories this cloth has brought him.

His grandmother passed it down to his mother after his parent's marriage. It was initially meant to be used for Christmas dinners only as per Fenton tradition. Still, seeing as his parents always turned that into a month-long argument, the Fentons started to use it as a Thanksgiving dinner decoration only.

He always brightened whenever his mom would come down from the attic saying the truck of unique Thanksgiving tablecloths. There were seven altogether, but it warmed him whenever he saw it.

Maddie promised to give the trunk to the first of her children to marry, and secretly, Danny hoped it would be him. His sisters liked Thanksgiving fine but not as much as he.

Thanksgiving was his favorite holiday. His family always cooked together, played games, watched movies, had silly little Fenton traditions, and it was just a time to be together.

Bruce and his kids would be coming over this year. Alfred had hurt his back and could not cook Thanksgiving dinner as usual, so Danny asked if the Waynes could join them.

Ever since their friendship, Danny has spent Thanksgiving in Amity Park. Christmas in Gotham and New Year would be a switch between them. His family had been fine with him splitting the holidays, but his Dad had been asking for years for the two to mix, and this year would finally be it.

Danny finishes setting the plates, knives and forks down. He made sure to fold the napkins into animals for the respected person sitting there. A peacock for Alfred, A butterfly for Bruce, an elephant for Dick, a robin for Jason, a bat for Tim, A dog for Damian, an octopus for Steph, a swan for Cass, a bunny for Duck, a bear for Jazz, a cat for his mom, a jellyfish for Dad, an owl for Dani and finally gorilla for himself.

Danny has his own trunk for Thanksgiving, having started purchasing solid linen napkins when he was seven. He uses multiple sizes and colors to make his animals, and when he's done, he can't help but beam at the colorful animals on the plates.

Except for Alfred's. His peacock is sitting inside his wine glass, the green and blue of his tail falling over his plate.

In the kitchen, his mom and dad are dancing around each other, wiping up a meal that, for once, isn't anywhere near ectoplasm. The pair had gone in beforehand to remove contamination and cleaned it out, claiming they wanted to impress Bruce's family. This means that their food will likely not come to life this dinner.

It also meant the Waynes would be mighty surprised by how good chiefs his parents are. In the privacy of his heart, Danny keeps the secret that while Alfred was good, he was nowhere near Fentons' level of cooking.

Jazz comes down from upstairs, looking dazzlingly in her black dress and perfectly done make-up. The Fentons always dressed to the nines for Thanksgiving, even if they only stayed in their living rooms.

"Looks great, Danny!" She says with a bright smile,e eyeing the table and smiling when her eyes land on her bear. Danny had used a white napkin to simulate Bearbert's lab coat. "Finished with the rest of the house?"

Danny waves his hand, beaming at the decorations he has set up. The entire first floor had miniature pumpkins scattered about on tabletop surfaces. The couch cushions had been replaced with light orange ones. Hung up around doorways and surrounded windows were red, brown, and yellow leaves fines, interweaved with sunflowers.

Small sunflower wreaths were also placed on the walls, and linking them together was a sheer red cloth that dropped into small hoops between them.

A few larger pumpkins were placed near the walls, and some fake leafy vines were placed on the ground to resemble a pumpkin patch pathway. Danny loved the multiple scented candles and small acorn lights he had looped around the edges of the furniture, turning off the other lights to make them pop.

It gave a homey but festive vibe that he knows the Waynes are unused to. The decorations for their Holidays were always large and expensive. Brought together by a team of interior designers who made everything look great, just slightly artificial.

Or maybe that was Danny's middle-class mindset.

The Fentons had money- with his parent's PhDs, Danny's freelance, Jazz's brilliant work, and Dani's photos- but they had always remained with a middle-class mindset, never going for the over-the-top shows of wealth the Waynes had.

Even the clothes he had on now made him feel like they were too much, despite having bought them himself. He was wearing his best suit, and Bruce took him to get tailored because heaven knows Danny couldn't tell what was considered good quality. Although they hugged his body in all the right places, Danny felt silly.

"Wonderful work as usual." Jazz's smile turned even larger. His sister considers the hung-up wreaths with a critical eye. Danny moved to stand next to her as she sighed wishfully. "Remember the year you learned how to make those?"

Danny laughs. "Yeah, you biked me to all the hobby stores in Amity Park because I was determined to make my own decorations and didn't understand why a seven-year-old couldn't walk alone."

"You threw such a fit about standing on my training wheels while I petaled." She snorts, shifting her voice higher to emulate kid Danny. "Jazz, can't you go faster! People think we need training wheels like I could ride a bike without them. I literally hit a tree the day before!"

"I was embarrassed people were seeing us 'cause I didn't realize how awesome it was for my nine-year-old sister to do something like that for me." Danny side hugs her. "You were pretty amazing growing up, Jazz. I'm sorry I didn't realize it as a kid."

His elder sister hugs him back. "It's alright. I'm sorry I was so stubborn as a kid, too. You were right back then. We could have just walked."

"Yeah, but then we would have missed out on bonding in the hospital when we went down Sisneros Hill." Danny laughs. " The matching casts were a good lesson for how breaks worked."

Jazz snorts, then bursts into laughter as the memories play again behind her eyes. Danny finds himself joining her, and his heart swells with love. Eventually, they calm down long enough for Jazz's eyes to soften at the small table with crafts supplies. "You're going to include the Waynes in the Danny's decor tradition?"

"Yup." Danny rubs the back of his head. "I figured we could do it after Dinner. Before or during Dad's karaoke."

Danny planned on having the Wayne children make their own wreaths to add to his collection. He hoped they liked it as it was a Fenton tradition he started with his family when he was nine.

The one above the little table was the first ever wreath he made at nine years old. It looked terrible compared to the others, but it made him happy.

Jazz hums "I'm sure they will love it. Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, what's up."

"What's going on between you and Bruce?" Jazz turns to him, crossing her arms but not looking judgmental. If anything, there is only curiosity in her voice. "You've known him for ten years, you're heavily involved with his kids' upbringing, and even though you always travel for work, you always make time for him and the kids. Are you two dating?" "

Danny blinked, taken aback. "I mean....Bruce means a lot to me, but I'm not sure we have that kind of relationship."

Jazz considers his response before carefully asking, as if worried her words will offend "Do you want to have that kind of relationship with him?"

The question causes him to pause. He finds his mind drawing a blank even if his heart leaps a little in his chest.

"I don't know. You know I don't really feel urges like that." He admits after a while, leaning back into the wall and picturing Bruce's face. It flashes with a warmth that he rarely saw the billionaire betow upon anyone else. But did that make him excited? Was it only for him? Did he want to do things with Bruce?

He wrinkles his nose at the thought of Bruce and him in bed, but the idea of kissing the other man isn't so bad. Unusual since Danny always found the action to be gross.

"I know you're asexual, but that isn't the same thing as being aromantic." His sister says gently. "You can want to have a romantic relationship with someone without the physical aspects."

"I guess I just never considered it." He admits after a moment of the pair standing there. His mind is whirling with the idea now. He thought that after ten years, he had never considered the idea that Bruce was something more.

But in a way, he was. Bruce had somehow turned into one of his most important people, always playing in the back of his mind, and when Danny thinks of happiness, he imagines the Waynes. When someone says family, it isn't just his parents and sisters; it's the rich man with a heart of gold, his butler, and his ragtag team of children.

Goodness. When did that happen?

"That's alright if you don't," Jazz tells him. She nods her head to where his parents are finishing the touches on the dinner. Dani had come down at some point- looking fabulous in her red jumper- and was helping Dad with the fudge. "They consider Bruce your lover, you know? Mom and Dad still struggle with the concept of asexual, so don't let them pressure you tonight. They will start asking for you two to set a wedding date, and although I talked them out of it, don't be surprised if they corner you later."

Danny thinks back to all the graduations, the birthday cards, the Christmas presents, and the random visits his parents would do for the Wayne children. It hits him then that they had been treating them like grandchildren since Dick was nine, and he wonders why he never noticed before.

No wonder Dad has wanted mixed holidays for years now. They thought they were grandparents.

The strangest part? Danny was okay with it if they saw the Wayne children as grandchildren. It actually made him feel warm and proud to be their son.

But that would mean they saw Bruce as their son-in-law, and Danny wasn't sure how he felt about it yet. He liked it, but he was scared of what it implied.

Why did his heart leap with joy? Why did he imagine coming home to Bruce? Why did he feel giggly and nervous like a schoolboy again?

Had Danny....been in love with Bruce for years and never noticed? Is this feeling the same as other people's when they like someone romantically?

Jazz observes his face, able to read him long before she finishes her psychology degree in profiling. She must see his thoughts because she reaches out to place a comforting hand on his arms. "Whatever you figure out, Bruce has been here for ten years. He'll be here for ten more, even if it's just as friends."

The doorbells dings. Dani bounces out of the kitchen towards it with a cheer. "They're here!"

Danny glances over, and his eyes catch Bruce's warm ones over his younger sister's head. His heart flutters as his friend gives him that unique smile despite Dani clutching him in a bone-crushing hug. His children are piled behind him, and seeing it all makes him feel like the luckiest guy on earth.

Oh gods, was he in love?

[areislol]

A New Year's with you

►— pairings. genshin men x gn! creator! reader

►— warnings. fluff

►— synopsis. albedo created a machine where it would bring back their creator, who was stuck in another world, back to where they belong. but instead of bringing you here to them, it brought them to where you were.

►— a/n. first of i'd really like to thank each and every one of you!! to my followers, thank you for supporting me and enjoying what i love to do. i wish you all a very happy new year!

►— wordcount. 2.3k

✧ part three | ✧ part four | ✧ part five | ✧ part six | (mini fic) | ✧ part seven | ✧ part eight | (mini fic) | more tba.. NAVIGATION

The night air was crisp, filled with the promise of something new. Outside, the world was celebrating, fireworks bursting across the sky in a riot of colors. Inside, though, you were focused on something much more important: spending your New Year’s Eve with the people who meant the most to you.

As the clock struck 11:55 PM, you sat comfortably surrounded by the familiar faces of your closest friends. There was Aether, who always seemed to be uplifted and happy, like right now. Ever curious about Earth’s traditions, sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor.

He was carefully arranging the items for the night's festivities: a platter of snacks, a bottle of sparkling grape juice (your compromise since he didn’t trust “bubbly Earth potions”), and a small stack of board games you’d promised to teach him.

“You really do all of this just to welcome a new year?” he asked, golden eyes sparkling with intrigue.

You nodded, sinking into the couch with a soft smile. “It’s more about the memories we make while waiting for midnight. Traditions like these make it special.”

Aether tilted his head, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “We have something similar in Teyvat, though it’s more about honouring the past year and setting intentions for the next. I like your way, though—it’s lighter, more joyful.”

The two of you started with the games. Aether’s competitive streak caught you off guard as he quickly learned the rules of UNO and began ruthlessly stacking Draw Fours against you. His laughter was infectious, and soon the room was filled with lighthearted banter and playful accusations of cheating.

And Diluc, who stood by the kitchen counter, sleeves rolled up and hands dusted with flour as he helped you prepare a tray of cookies. He looked entirely at ease, though his noble posture and crimson hair made him seem almost out of place in such a mundane setting.

“You’ve really outdone yourself with the decorations,” he remarked, glancing around. “The atmosphere here feels... grounding.”

You smiled, brushing some flour from his cheek with a light touch. “I wanted it to feel special. After all, it’s your first New Year’s on Earth.”

Diluc’s lips curved into a faint smile. “It’s quite different from what we do in Mondstadt. There, we celebrate with lively gatherings, songs, and toasts to the Anemo Archon. This... quiet celebration is a welcome change.”

As the cookies baked, the two of you set about preparing the evening’s activities. You’d decided to keep it simple: a light dinner, some nostalgic movies, and watching the midnight fireworks from the backyard. Diluc had also brought a bottle of dandelion wine he’d made himself, a taste of Mondstadt to share with you.

Zhongli stood nearby looking strangely relaxed, his hands loosely holding a glass of wine. Kazuha, always the poet at heart, hummed quietly to himself, his gaze occasionally flicking over to the window to catch the sparkling lights outside.

Then there was Childe, his eyes glinting with mischief as usual, though his playful grin softened as he glanced your way. And Kaeya, ever the charmer, leaned casually against the wall, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he observed the group.

“Am I late, or are you just fashionably early?”

You turned to see Kaeya leaning against the doorframe, a sly grin on his face. He was dressed casually, but even in a sweater and sweatpants, he carried himself with the same effortless charm that made your heart skip a beat.

“Perfect timing, actually,” you replied with a smile. “Welcome to Earth’s New Year’s Eve celebration.”

Kaeya stepped inside, taking in the decorations with an approving nod. “You’ve certainly gone all out. I feel honoured to be part of such an event.”

“Don’t get too excited,” you teased. “It’s mostly snacks, games, and fireworks on TV. But I did prepare something fun.”

His visible eye gleamed with interest. “Do tell.”

You handed him a silly party hat and matching noisemaker. “Tradition.”

Kaeya raised an eyebrow, twirling the noisemaker between his fingers. “You’re telling me people wear these... willingly?”

“Yes, and so will you,” you said, placing the hat on his head before he could protest. To your surprise, he didn’t remove it. Instead, he adjusted it with a flourish and gave you a playful bow to which you giggled at, finding it silly.

“Only for you, darling.”

Wriothesley, Lyney and Neuvillette, Venti, Kinich and Baizhu were all chatting amongst each other, an odd bunch, yes, but they all got along with each other. They all grouped around each other, happily talking about celebrating a new year…with you.

“Five minutes!” Kaeya called out, his voice light, teasing, but full of warmth. “Let’s make the last moments of the year memorable.”

“Right!” Childe grinned, raising his glass. “To make this year even better than the last!”

Diluc’s eyes narrowed at the ginger Fatui and his words. “Tsk, nothing is worth celebrating if the Fatui are still around..” He grumbled, his grip on the wine bottle tightening.

Noticing this you nudge him with your shoulder playfully, a smile tugging the corners of your lips as you spoke. “Don’t worry about him or the Fatui. Besides you’ve got us—me!” You said, watching as his gaze softened at you, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly.

“You’re right.” His voice was soft and smooth, almost too soft, though the sweet moment between you two was interrupted as Albedo adjusted his glasses and glanced at you, his usual serene expression softening with the warmth of the evening. “Time flies when you’re surrounded by friends. It’s good to be here with all of you.”

Alhaitham sat comfortably on the couch, a book in hand—because of course, he brought a book. His teal-grey hair caught the light in a way that made him look effortlessly elegant, even in a simple turtleneck sweater.

“I still don’t understand the significance of this holiday,” he said without looking up, though the slight smirk on his lips suggested he was enjoying the conversation. “The Earth rotates around the sun every day. Why is this particular one celebrated?”

You laughed, sitting beside him. “It’s not about the science, Alhaitham. It’s about marking a moment to reflect on the past year and look forward to the next. It’s symbolic.”

He finally closed his book, setting it aside as he turned to face you fully. “Symbolism. A fascinating way to assign meaning to an arbitrary point in time.”

“Spoken like a true scholar,” you teased. “But you can’t deny that it’s nice to have an excuse to relax and celebrate.”

He leaned back, crossing his arms as he studied you. “I suppose it does offer an opportunity to engage in human connection. That, I can appreciate.”

The night unfolded with a quiet intimacy that felt uniquely fitting for Alhaitham. Instead of games or loud music, the two of you opted for meaningful conversation and simple joys. He indulged your Earth traditions by trying your carefully curated snacks, offering an unfiltered critique of each one.

“These are tolerable,” he said, gesturing to the plate of cookies. “But the balance of sweetness could be improved.”

You rolled your eyes with a grin. “Noted, culinary expert.”

A chuckle escaped from Ayato, who leaned against the wall with a relaxed smirk. “How uncharacteristic of you, Alhaitham. But I agree, it’s nice to have a peaceful moment like this.”

Baizhu was seated nearby, carefully sipping on a cup of tea, his sharp eyes gleaming with a hidden playfulness. “A toast to health and prosperity, then,” he said with a smile. “May we all find peace and success in the year to come.”

Nearby, Cyno, though less stoic offered a smirk. “Let’s hope it’s more peaceful than last year,” he said dryly, casting a quick glance at Childe, who was standing by the snacks table, trying to sneak an extra serving of treats.

You, Diluc and Cyno all watched as Itto slapped his hand, scolding him for trying to sneak in a couple more snacks despite doing the same as well.

“You gotta stop stealing all the goodies! You can’t just hog ‘em all!” Itto whined, grabbing the handful of stolen goods from Childe who was practically fuming. “You are getting on my last nerves bud. Hand me back those snacks now! Besides, they said I could eat however much I wanted!”

“Stop lying! As if they would EVER give you permission to do something as heinous as that!” Itto screeched. You sighed, wondering when the bickering would ever stop.

Ga’ming joined the conversation, his voice light and playful. “I’m just happy to have made it through another year. Every year, we learn something new. Here’s to another year of discoveries!” he said, raising a glass.

Gorou, sitting beside him, nodded earnestly. “We’ve all fought many battles, but it’s the moments like these that remind us what we’re fighting for. To friends, to peace.” Heizou flashed a grin, holding up his drink. “The new year always brings a fresh set of mysteries, doesn’t it? Here’s hoping for more exciting cases to solve!” He winked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

However, everybody knew there were no mysteries to solve. Not one single case since he first landed here, which was quite sad, now that you were thinking about it..

From across the room, Itto boomed with excitement (having totally forgotten about the whole Childe stealing fiasco). “A toast to the strongest—no, the most amazing people around! Let’s make this year even more fun than the last!” His exuberance was contagious, and everyone around him laughed, joining in the cheer.

Kaeya, leaning casually against the doorframe, smirked playfully at you. “Cheers to another year of mischief and fun. I have no doubt this one will be full of surprises.”

Kaveh rolled his eyes at Kaeya’s comment, but he couldn’t hide the smile tugging at his lips. “Every year is full of surprises. Some better than others,” he teased, earning a laugh from Albedo.

Neuvillette placed his much larger and softer hands on your shoulder, a gentle smile and look on his face as he leaned his head down. “May we all find the strength to continue our paths, no matter the obstacles that come our way. A peaceful year ahead.”

Sethos, who was quietly observing everybody, nodded thoughtfully. “I agree. Whatever the world holds, we face it together.”

Thoma, ever the cheerful and supportive presence, added with a bright smile, “And here’s to everyone having a safe, happy year ahead. I’ll make sure to keep things running smoothly for us!”

Tighnari nodded in agreement. “I’m confident we’ll only grow stronger together.” As the seconds ticked down, you couldn’t help but feel the warmth of all their presence. Each of them was here, beside you, in this shared moment of joy.

Venti raised his glass, his usual carefree nature in full force. “To freedom! To wind! And to all the wonderful people we meet along the way!”

Wanderer, leaning slightly against the wall with his arms crossed, let out a quiet laugh. “Not sure about freedom, but I’m all for a year where things are… less chaotic.” His dry humour had the group chuckle.

Wriothesley raised a glass, his usual calm exterior belying the warmth in his voice. “May this year bring you all the peace and prosperity you deserve. We’ve earned it.”

Xiao, standing near the window, his gaze distant yet soft, murmured, “A new year is just another step forward. I will continue protecting those dear to me.” His words were brief but filled with devotion. Zhongli smiled at the group. “A new year is a reminder that time flows forward, yet we remain constant in our bonds. May we cherish every moment.”

Kinich stood quietly, his presence comforting as always. He simply nodded his head in acknowledgment and continued back to staring out the window, though his eyes seem to be wavering towards somebody in the reflection of the glass window.

Capitano and Pierro, with a more reserved expression, raised his glass in a quiet toast. “May the coming year be kind to us all.” Pantalone, with a cheerful grin, chimed in last. “To friends, to family, and to new adventures. May the year ahead be our best yet.”

The countdown reached zero, and the room erupted in cheers, laughter, and clinking glasses. The fireworks outside exploded in a burst of color, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still as you stood surrounded by your friends—each one unique, each one cherished.

“Happy New Year!” you all called out in unison, the warmth of your bond filling the room.

“Happy New Year!” you repeated, your heart full, as the new year began. Cheers erupted around the room as everyone clinked glasses and exchanged smiles. The sound of fireworks outside mixed with the laughter inside, creating a perfect harmony that made your heart swell.

“I’m so grateful for all of you,” you said, feeling the weight of the moment. “Thank you for being part of my life.”

They all smiled, their expressions soft and filled with affection. Kaeya was the first to pull you into a warm embrace, followed by Childe who ruffled your hair playfully. Kazuha, ever the poet, simply offered a gentle nod, his gaze full of quiet affection. Zhongli’s smile was calm, yet there was a deep tenderness in the way he looked at you. And Aether and Lumine both offered their hands, pulling you into a hug that felt like home.

“No matter what the new year brings,” Aether said softly, “we’ll always be together.”

And in that moment, surrounded by the people you loved, the year ahead felt full of endless possibilities, each one more beautiful than the last.“Happy New Year, everyone,” you said, your heart full, surrounded by your closest companions.

“Let’s make it a year to remember.”

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(if the usernames aren’t highlighted that’s because I can’t tag you so I’ll dm you when I post a new chapter! if i forgot to tag you im so sorry!)

additional notes: i may not be able to see your comment to be added to the taglist for the earlier chapters (1, 2, 3, etc) so please hop in my inbox and tell me as it’ll be easier for me! thanks for reading :)

liking + following + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!!

[gyuzgrl]

too sweet //lsm//

summary- when Jeonghan brings up BDSM at dinner, your boyfriend is keen on trying it out for himself. you laugh it off, telling him he doesn't have the stomach for it, and he decides to show you just how capable he is in bed.

Crystal-chandeliered ceilings, a live cello performance, a bottle of Domaine de la Romanee- 1945; you're in the lap of luxury. After a particularly long week, your boyfriend decided to organize a 'little' get-together to get your mind off work. Something small, he said. Just a little dinner with Jeonghan and Hoshi- nothing much.

That's how you find yourself here- seated in one of the best restaurants in Seoul, surrounded by friends, donned in a dress so stunning it would've killed a small Victorian child.

Earlier on in the relationship, you used to get awkward in places like this, wondering how much it cost, trying to order the cheapest thing on the menu, but now? Now you've grown accustomed to Dokyeom's treats. It's how he shows his love for you- among many other ways- so who are you to say no?

"and yeah- we fucked." Hoshi states, mouth full of food as Dokyeom's eyes widen to the size of saucers.

Jeonghan giggles, turning around to see if anyone heard, and shakes his head.

"and?"

"and-" Hoshi continues, prodding a bit of beef with his fork, "and it was like painfully vanilla,"

You watch as Jeonghan's face contorts into a disapproving frown, and sip at your wine, praying to whoever's listening that your sweet, baby boy doesn't open his mouth to ask any questions.

But of course, you've never had much luck with the universe, have you?

"like ice cream?"

Aghast, the older man turns to Dokyeom.

"dude..."

When the inquisitive, wide-eyed stare doesn't leave his face, you cut in, clearing your throat.

"c'mon don't be like that- you know how he is Han"

Your boyfriend shifts his gaze to you, now wondering how you of all people know what his hyungs are talking about.

A sheepish, watery smile paints your face as you reach for your glass, taking another sip.

The air stills for a minute, awkward pauses flooding the space while Hoshi and Jeonghan share knowing glances.

They turn to you, flashing you those up-to-no-good grins, before fixing their attention to your poor boyfriend.

"alright buddy," Jeonghan starts, reaching out to grasp Dokyeom's shoulder, "lemme teach you about sex."

Immediately, you see the tips of his ears burn red. Poor thing.

"why are we uh, why're we talking about sex?"

"cause you still think we're talkin' about ice cream" Hoshi sneers. You shoot him a glare, and his shrinks back.

Ever the explorer, Dokyeom chimes in again, turning to you this time.

"we're not talking about ice cream? what are we-"

"sex." Jeonghan whispers, voice taking on a mock-sultry tone. He turns to you,

"what's he like in bed?"

"hey!-"

"he seems vanilla now, so I'm guessing it's basic shit" he continues, eyes narrowing in on you.

Suddenly you feel conscious of your surroundings. A nice evening out has somehow turned into a free-for-all analysis of your sex life, and your most intimate moments with Dokyeom have come under the looking glass.

"y-yeah, we're vanilla"

"oh you poor thing," Hoshi fakes a sob, bringing his hand to his chest as if your house caught on fire.

"don't be like that- some people prefer vanilla y'know?"

Some people, sure.

Not you, though.

As much as you love how Dokyeom makes you feel, you have to admit, he's a little, well... basic. It's the same old scene, classic p-in-v sex, sometimes he goes down on you, sometimes you do him, nothing apart from that.

Not that it doesn't feel good- it feels amazing- but you've always wanted something more. Something you're sure he won't be able to pull off.

"uhuh, I'm sure they do," Jeonghan muses, seeing right through you.

"what are we even talking abou-"

"sex!" all three of you whisper-shout in unison, starling Dokyeom.

"but- vanilla?"

"it's classic, like your basic animal-planet kinda sex" Jeonghan's voice turns serious, brows set in a firm line. "there's more than that, though"

Hoshi watches intently, moving a bit of bread to his mouth in slow motion, as the scene unravels before him. You find yourself equally invested, eyes fixed on Dokyeom's wonderstruck expression.

"there's more?" he gasps.

"oh you bet- d'you know what BDSM is?"

Your mouth goes bone dry.

"I think so? it's the stuff with the knives and leather and like latex-"

Jeonghan shoots you a quick glance, mouthing 'you're welcome', before moving back to the man next to him.

"that's not- it's not all intense and gory... there's layers to it, kay?"

Dokyeom nods, eyes shimmering.

"BDSM as a concept is deeper than just leather and blood. B and D stands for bondage and discipline, D and S stands for dominance and submission, and S and M stands for sadism and masochism-"

"so that's what Rhianna was talking about-" he cuts in, jaw falling slack as he listens further.

"each of these can come out in different ways- bondage could include cuffs, rope, shibari, or y'know whatever material you have on hand. discipline is meant in its literal sense- you do things to teach your partner the quote-unquote rules of sex, which could include spanking, using gags for punishment or doing things they like for reward. Sadism and masochism basically play on pain. Sadists like to cause it, masochists like to feel it- again, many ways to do this."

Hoshi stares in awe as Jeonghan concludes, putting his fork down to clap.

"wait- what about dominance?"

A sly smile quirks up Jeonghan's lips.

"oh that."

You swallow at the lump settling at the back of your throat, unable to tear your gaze away from your boyfriend's face- so eager, so fascinated by what he's heard.

"it's the premise of what all this is; discipline, sadism, bondage, it's all built on power play. One of you is in control and the other follows, letting themselves be controlled, it-"

"what about consent?"

Oh sweet, sweet boy.

"that's where safe words come into play. I use the traffic light system, so if my partner says green it means they're feeling good, if they say yellow, they're still okay but I need to slow down, and if they say red, they want me to stop"

"huh."

Dokyeom sits still for a minute, eyes glued to the plate sitting in front of him, and you can practically hear his brain churning to process all that he's learnt.

As the night goes on, he seems quieter than usual, staring at you, absorbing information, listening to what's being spoken about around him. Every time you turn to the side you meet his gaze- intense, preoccupied.

Dinner comes to a close with him shoving his shiny black credit card into the waiter's hands before anyone else beat him to it, and soon, you find yourselves saying your goodbyes, heading to the car.

Dokyeom opens your door, making sure you're seated, and moves over to the driver's seat.

"you don't- do you like how things are now?" Out of nowhere, his voice sounds in your ears, catching you off guard.

You look at him, surprise etched in the rise of your brow, and shake your head furiously.

"of course I do! baby, I love how things are with us, I love you"

He sighs, turning on the ignition, and begins to drive.

"not like that, honey, I meant physically,"

The blank look on your face has his cheeks burning as he works up the courage to say it.

"sex, y/n" he says, a little louder than before, "do you like the way we do things now?"

Oh.

You hadn't expected the conversation from earlier to stick with him, but evidently, it has. A shiver runs through you when he says it- sex. He's never brought it up so unambiguously before. It feels dirty, somehow, even though you've laid with him multiple times.

"I-"

"be honest, honey, okay?"

The earnest, gentle tone of his voice has your heart softening. He really is too pure for this world.

"I mean, I love the way we are now," you mutter, eyes focused on your lap as you pick at your nails, "you make me feel good"

Technically you aren't lying to him- you're just choosing to keep some things hidden. Dokyeom doesn't need to know that you've spent your nights thinking about his fingers buried deep inside you, forcing you to cum again and again until you're sobbing and shaking. He doesn't need to know you've been fantasizing about his arms, wondering how they'd feel pushing you down, leaving you helpless, completely at his mercy.

He's a nice guy, after all. They don't usually like stuff like that. And even if they think they like stuff like that, they don't have the stomach for it.

One stray teardrop and Dokyeom will be on his knees, apologizing profusely, crying along with you as he chastises himself.

"I'm not convinced," he sighs, shoulders slouching against his leather seats. "if this is about protecting my feelings-"

"no! no- not at all baby,"

"so tell me- I know you, I know when you've got something hidden away in that pretty head of yours"

Caught between a rock and a hard place, you find yourself in a bit of a dilemma. Should you be honest with him and take your chances? Or should you pacify him and convince him that plain old vanilla lovin' is all you need?

"I-"

"baby," he soothes, voice gentle, "I just wanna make sure I'm doing the best I can for you,"

A car passes you by, blaring loud pop music, and he breaks into a sheepish smile.

"there's a lot I didn't know before today- stuff that you knew about... so I just- I'm checking. If there's something you'd like me to do, someone you'd like me to be, I wanna try"

"oh,"

You stay silent for a bit, thinking over what to say. Sure, telling him that you're actually a submissive and you hate taking charge is simple, but the execution part leaves you tongue-tied. Someone as sweet and innocent as Dokyeom wouldn't be able to handle taking control.

Nothing against him, it's just that he's so cute and naive- there's no way he'd be able to restrain you and make you cry.

"there's one thing..." you mutter, voice so meek you're barely audible.

His ears perk up.

"y'know the dom-sub thing Hannie spoke about?"

"uhuh, one of us is in control and the other one listens,"

"yeah, I kinda, uh- I tend to lean towards being controlled rather than being in control"

"oh, we can do that if you like, baby" he chirps, twisting the steering wheel as he pulls into your apartment, "we can try whatever you want,"

There's a smile on his face- that same shining, star-studded gaze, eyes crinkling, teeth on full display- and you feel your heart sink.

You'll just have to make do with vanilla for the rest of your days.

The lift ride up is tense. You chew on your lower lip, tapping your heel impatiently against the ground as you move higher and higher, finally reaching your house.

Dokyeom keys in the passcode, unlocking the door, and you stumble inside, rushing to the bathroom for a bit of space.

Locking the door behind you, you stare at yourself in the mirror, worry etched in the crease of your forehead. Your face is beet red, pupils blown wide, and your throat feels dry.

All that talk about the bedroom has you feeling a little jumpier than usual and you can't help the way your brain automatically shifts to its usual Dokyeom fantasy- tied up helplessly in bed as he eats you out over and over, saying the filthiest things known to man.

God, the things you'd let him do to you...

His nose is built just right, bumping into your clit perfectly as he eats you out, tongue lapping up your arousal from your past orgasms. Those long, slim fingers would be splayed across your thighs, forcing your legs open, even when your body spasms, begging for an intermission.

'snap out of it- Christ' you tell yourself, shooing away any wandering thoughts as you unlock the door and head into your bedroom.

"everything okay, honey?"

You curse the universe when your eyes are greeted by his broad frame, standing by your dresser as he clicks his watch open, shaking it off his wrist in a few crisp motions.

"y-yeah I'm-" you cut yourself off when he begins to fold his shirtsleeves up, dragging the white fabric up around his elbow, putting his forearms on display. The way his veins frame the shape of his arms so perfectly, peeking out just enough, has you growing restless with desire, and you feel your face grow hot.

"baby?"

When you stay silent, he eyes you through the mirror, making sure you're still listening, and continues-

"I was thinking about what you said in the car, and I think we should give it a try"

Before you can stop it from happening, your lips part, letting a taunting laugh slip past them. Dokyeom halts his actions.

"why's that funny?"

"it's not! I just uh-" you nibble at your lower lip, trying desperately to conceal the smile perking up the corners of your lips, "I appreciate you saying that, but we really don't have to do things you won't be comfortable with,"

"how d'you know I won't be comfortable?"

You sigh, walking over to him.

"Kyeommie, you're a really great guy- you're sweet, you're kind, you're funny- and I love those things about you,"

"uhuh"

"it's just that you're too sweet, y'know? You won't be able to handle the stuff I'm into, baby"

His brows furrow, and he opens his mouth to speak, but you cut in, sugarcoating your words as much as you can.

"being nice isn't a bad thing at all, okay- don't get me wrong. I love you exactly as you are, so there's no need to make yourself uncomforta-"

"you think I can't do it, don't you?"

His voice is low, dripping with a kind of venom you've never heard from him before. You reach out, moving your hand to soothe over his shoulder, but he catches your wrist, pulling you into him.

"Dok-"

"I may be slow, I may not understand the things you do as easily" he sneers, his grip tightening, "but I know my way around your body-"

"I know I can make you feel good."

He inches closer, nose bumping against yours, and you let out a shaky sigh. Your heart thuds rapidly against your chest, banging against the confines of your ribs so noisily you're sure Dokyeom can hear it.

You've never heard him speak like this before, never seen his eyes flood with such darkness. The once glittering light in his pupils has now dimmed to a darker, lust-filled ocean, void of mercy.

The expanse of his broad shoulders shield you from the front, and a hand slides down your arm, resting at the curve of your back, trapping you in his hold.

"what is it that you want from me, hm?" he mumbles, angling your chin up towards his face, "want me to take control- be a little aggressive?"

Your breath catches, and you stare up at him, eyes wide. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you'd hear him talk this way, with his voice all low and mean. The way he holds you too, it's different from before. There's no gentle embrace, no tentative grip- no, he's sure right now. There's a certainty with which he holds you, a forcefulness he would've once been afraid of.

"tell me," he whispers as he walks you backward, heading for the bed, "tell me what you want and I'll make you feel good,"

With each step forward he takes in your direction, you take one back, staring up at him with wide, unbelieving eyes. Is this really the same guy from two hours ago?

His gaze pierces through you, challenging you as if to say- 'try me, I dare you.' It's simultaneously intimidating, yet somehow exciting, and you feel a familiar heat spread in your lower belly.

Like some sort of predator, dead set on catching its prey, Dokyeom stalks toward you, moving further and further, until your calves make contact with the bed.

He smirks.

You've been caught.

"what's wrong, honey?" a faux pout graces his lips, "you were saying so much a minute ago-"

You gasp as he closes in, leaving no room for anything but your body and his. The hand on your face leaves your chin, and he traces a finger down your throat, stopping just below the divot of your collarbones, lingering over the hem of your dress.

There's an evil glint in his eye and you watch, waiting patiently to see what he does next.

"strip."

Certain you heard him wrong, you stay still, staring up at him dumbly.

"oh, we don't feel like listening today?" he quirks a brow at you, loosening his grip on your waist as he lets his hand travel up your back, "either you do it- or I'll do my fucking self."

On beat, he thumbs the zipper of your dress and tugs it down in one sharp motion, leaving you stunned. The fabric falls slack against your body, loosening at your neckline just enough to give Dokyeom a peek of what lies underneath.

He trails his finger down your clavicle, pushing your dress down to reveal the lacey surface of your bra- the fabric flimsy and transparent, letting your nipples poke through.

"someone's excited," he bites his lips, smirking down at your hardened nipples. "you wanna take this off for me, baby?"

His voice is raspy, taunting almost, and your body obeys, arms hastily undoing your bra as you shimmy out of your dress. You should feel embarrassed, getting naked so desperately like some sex-hungry nympho, but you don't.

The arousal pooling in between your legs is far too distracting to leave any room for humility or shame.

Dressed pooled at your ankles, bra tossed aside, you stand bare before him.

Teasingly, Dokyeom lets the pad of his extended finger trace down your chest as he leans in, lips ghosting over yours. Your eyes flutter closed and your lips part- ever so slightly- bracing for impact. You feel his breath fanning across your face as his presence nears, skin almost touching yours, before he sends a sharp tweak to your nipple, pulling away with a devilish grin.

Jolting at the sudden stimulation, you gasp, eyes opening wide. There's a current running down your body, stemming from the spot he abused seconds ago, and you feel it land in your clit.

You want to argue, to call him an idiot and tell him to kiss you proper- to quit teasing- but you know you like this. The way he's got you all figured out, the way he so effortlessly gets you to bend to his will, god this is what you've been waiting for.

"get on the bed."

The firmness of his voice tells you to bite your tongue and acquiesce, but there's something deep inside of you that wants to see how far you can push him.

"don't wanna"

He pauses for a second, looking into your eyes-

"do you actually want to stop or are you just being difficult?"

"the latter," you singsong, staring up at him with a challenge dancing behind your eyes.

There's a moment of silence as he prods his cheek with the tip of his tongue, taking in what you've just said. His blood boils at the mockery in your voice, eyes hardening to a cold brown.

"brat." he spits, clenching his jaw.

In one forceful motion, Dokyeom yanks you towards himself, lifting you up by the thighs before tossing you onto the mattress behind.

"baby-!" You can't help but squeal as he manhandles you effortlessly, showing you just how strong he really is. Your body lands with a dull thump on the bed, sinking deep into your duvet as he stares daggers into your sprawled out frame.

"sit still."

Dokyeom steps back, standing before you at the foot of the bed, and keeps his eyes on yours. A sly hand creeps up his neck, fingers weaving into the intricate knot of his tie, and he pulls it loose, tossing the silk fabric near your feet.

Undoing the top buttons of his shirt, his hand travels down to his belt, clicking the buckle open with ease. The metal comes apart in his hand, loosening with a single flick of his wrist, and you feel your mouth begin to water.

He looked sinful. With his sleeves rolled up- biceps straining through the fabric, the way his chest peeked out tauntingly through his shirt, how his eyes bore into yours, not breaking contact for an instant- it made you want to scream.

The sound of metal clanking pulls you from your thoughts, and you realise that he's shucked off his trousers, leaving himself in his CK black boxers and a partially unbuttoned shirt.

"Kyeommie," you pout, reaching an arm out towards him, "c'mere"

It takes every bit of his strength to keep himself from crumbling instantly, but he manages it with a firm shake of his head.

"thought I told you to stay still, hm?"

You frown, your pout still evident, and turn away with a huff.

"I'm taking this off, y'know," he teases, plucking open the buttons of his shirt, and you feel your attitude fade to dust as you turn back to him in an instant.

Who wouldn't? After all, he does have the body of a God.

As he undoes his last button, you're greeted by his sculpted torso, tanned to perfection.

Dokyeom smirks, ego inflating at your star-struck reaction as if you haven't seen him like before.

"every single time," he mutters, shaking his head in amusement.

Before long, the shirt is discarded to some remote corner of the room, and he stands before you, nearly bare.

"where were we..."

Grabbing your ankles, he tugs you down till your hips reach the foot of the bed. A startled gasp escapes you at his actions and he can't help but smirk.

"if tossing you around was all it took, you should've just asked, sweetheart"

Your cheeks burn red. Never once has he spoken to you like this- so direct, without scaffolding.

"makes me wonder what else you might like,"

Dokyeom brushes his fingertips up your legs, kneeling down to face your clothed cunt.

"I learned a lot today," he bites his lip, eyes fixed on the damp spot growing under your panties. "will you tell me which of all those you like or should I find out for myself?"

His gaze shifts to you, eyeing the flush on your cheeks, the scandalized widening of your eyes.

"I- I want-" you trail off, voice so small it makes him melt.

"I'm listening, honey, tell me what you want,"

That soft, silverish quality of his voice resurfaces, and you feel your body relax. He rubs slow circles into your thighs, trying his best to coax the words out of you, but you remain hesitant.

Embarrassed, rather.

You've never told anyone what you want from them so plainly, with nowhere to hide. You feel exposed in front of him for the first time in a while and the feeling excites you.

"don't stop." you murmur, unable to meet his gaze. "don't stop after just one... y'know-"

His eyes darken.

"oh I'm going to like this"

Deft fingers slide up your inner thighs, hooking under the last of your lingerie and pulling it apart, tearing the lace off of your body to reveal what Dokyeom wants most.

The most intimate part of you lies spread out all for him, glistening with arousal, and he has to suck in a breath to calm himself.

"don't- don't do that,"

"do what?" he asks, backing away slightly just in case you've changed your mind.

"try to control yourself like that- just don't hold back"

You breathe shakily before continuing- "I want to see how far you go-"

Something snaps within him, that final band of restraint finally tears apart, and he yanks you down onto his tongue, licking fervently at your cunt like this is the last time he gets to taste you.

Your lips part, letting breathy, helpless cries slip past, and Dokyeom knows he's doing well.

Despite the gusto with which he devours you, his movements are precise, practiced. It's exactly as he said earlier- he knows how to make you feel good. He knows your body.

He works his tongue against you, lapping at your clit without any care of hypersensitivity or overstimulation, pressing harder and harder into you as your legs spasm around him.

"wai- oh my god-" you moan, back arching up, hips lifting off the bed for a second, before Dokyeom pushes you back down firmly with his hand splayed across your lower belly.

Squirming helplessly under the force of his arm, your body tries to move away, to get just a little respite, but all in vain. He doesn't let you. The weight of one hand holds you secure, while the other cups the underside of your thighs- pushing your leg up as far as it can go.

With your legs spread out further, his assault on your clit feels even more direct, with each firm motion of his tongue sending shockwaves across your body, and you feel your muscles tighten, building up for release.

Dokyeom seems to have noticed too, and his lips curl up at the corners into a deeply satisfied smirk. You feel it against your skin.

"already?" he abashes, eyeing your tensed frame, "after all you said?"

"m'sorry- please, please can I-"

"can you?" he echoes.

"can I cum ple-please"

You've done this before- asked for permission before- but not with him. Never with him. Dokyeom's smirk only widens when he realises the power he now holds over you. To be able to deny one their right to pleasure is... exciting, to say the least. He certainly seems to enjoy it, considering the bulge growing in his boxers.

"mm, I didn't quite hear that honey, come again?" His voice is patronizing, mocking.

"please Kyeommie please let me cum"

Dokyeom's never thought of himself as a man who likes to abuse his power, but right now with the way you're begging? He wants to see just how much you can take before the seams begin to rip.

"no."

Your eyes fly open, jaw agape as your clit throbs under his tongue.

"w-what"

"you asked, I said no."

Now he knows he isn't being fair, he knows. But the tears welling up in your eyes have him entranced. There's this urge he has deep inside to see them all spill out and stain those pretty cheeks of yours.

"but-"

"are you gonna act up? 'cause that's not how you're getting what you want sweetheart"

Dokyeom's voice sends a chill down your spine. With the way his tongue abuses your clit, you're certain you won't be able to hold yourself back, not when your high is almost near.

You want to be good for him, you really do- but is this even fair? As he laps into you, nudging your sensitive nerves just right, your head tips back into the pillows and you moan out a string of profanities, getting completely lost in the pleasure he gives you.

He isn't happy.

"if you wanna cum that bad- I should give you more, hm? who am I to deny?"

You know very well from the tone of his voice what he's got planned.

Grabbing the tie- now dangling precariously off the bed- Dokyeom crawls over your spent frame, balancing his weight on his knees.

"gimme your hands."

Tentatively, you hold out your arms, pushing your wrists together.

"what are you do-"

"you know what I'm doing, sweetheart"

You do.

He pulls the fabric of his tie taut, looping it at your wrists before tying a firm knot to keep you from moving. The black silk, although soft to the touch, presses into your skin, and you hiss when he gives the fabric a sharp tug.

Dokyeom's eyes draw back to yours, and he grabs your wrists, pushing them up above your head.

"keep these here," he murmurs, gulping slightly when he notices how close your faces are.

Your eyes burn holes into each other's, and he sees something in your gaze that he hasn't before-

Hunger.

"Dokyeom," you breathe, chest rising shakily,

"kiss me"

Waiting no longer, he pushes his lips to yours, capturing the plush crimson in a slow, hard kiss. The way your lips mold so perfectly together, fitting into each other like pieces of a puzzle, makes this moment that much more meaningful.

When he touches you, when he kisses you, you know deep inside that this man is your forever. No one has or ever will make you feel so alive.

Dokyeom swallows your whimpers, your cries, as he slips his tongue into your mouth. It's sloppy and messy and desperate- but you love the way it feels, the way he feels.

Leaving your wrist, his hand comes down to cup your jaw, tilting your head back so he can kiss you harder, deeper.

"wa-wait-" you pant, feeling your lungs burn.

As you try to pull away, a deep growl emanates from within his throat, and he tugs you closer, unwilling to let go.

A surprised 'mm!' escapes your occupied lips, muffled by his own, and your body lights up- embers of red-hot desire scattering across your skin.

Dokyeom's own lungs beg him to move away, to breathe, but he holds still, stubborn as ever. You feel far too good. If this is how he dies, he'll go gladly.

The airy whimpers and gasps from you, however, finally get him to let go.

Your chest heaves as you gulp in precious breaths to soothe your lungs, as does his own. Staring up at him in shock, you manage to stutter out-

"where has that been all this time-"

He lets out an airy laugh, pressing a tender kiss to your jaw, trailing down your torso until he reaches your gushing sex.

"the hands stay up there- got that?"

You nod eagerly, holding your wrists up to show him, but you're quickly cut off by his tongue, pressing back into your clit.

"oh-"

Tracing slow figure eights into you, Dokyeom works his tongue deftly while his fingers prod at your entrance. With ease, he slips two long digits inside, pushing deep till your arousal trickles down his knuckles.

"Dok- oh fuck oh my god"

Each knuckle of his fingers adds further stimulation as he begins to pump in and out of you. Every time he draws back, you stretch to accommodate the balls of his joints and it feels divine.

You've always loved his hands. Those slender, long fingers were perfect for you, and the fact that his knuckles jut out at each joint only makes it all better.

The kinks in his fingers have your legs quivering, and his tongue- god his tongue- nudges your clit with the perfect amount of pressure.

Feeling your orgasm build at record speed, you moan, completely defenseless as Dokyeom slurps noisily at your sex while his fingers push up against that one particularly soft spot inside you.

"Kyeo-Kyeommie m'gonna-"

"that's it, sweetheart- just let go for Kyeommie"

With a sob, you feel your orgasm burn through you, twice as intense as the previous one, and your thighs quiver.

You're spent. You're spent and he's only made you cum twice.

Watching the way your muscles twitch from the weight of your orgasm, Dokyeom grins, feeling particularly proud.

Now usually, this is where it ends. His arms would slip out from under your thighs, and he'd kiss you sweetly, telling you how amazing you are. He'd check to see if you wanted him to make love to you, and if you agreed, he'd do exactly that.

Tonight, however, he stays firm in place, his mouth still connected to your cunt. Limbs still quivering, your eyes widen when he begins to move against you, barely giving you a second to catch your breath and recover.

Your body goes limp when he pokes his tongue against your over-sensitive clit, licking gentle yet firm stripes with precision. Each oscillation elicits the most delightful sound, just as a clock chimes with the motions of its gong.

All you can do is clutch the fabric of his tie, nails digging into your palms as your skin burns under his touch. Your nerves throb, pulsing in time with your heart, in time with his tongue.

"so good for me, honey," he mumbles into you, sliding his fingers back inside you in one fluid motion. Your back arches comically off the bed, mouth hanging open in a mix of shock and pleasure.

Once more, you find your belly rudely forced back down. Dokyeom narrows his eyes at you, irritation flashing behind his deep brown pupils, and keeps his hand there- splayed over your lower belly, pushing down with just enough pressure for his fingers to prod out from under your skin.

You gasp, feeling fuller somehow with the added force, feeling his fingers drag deeper against your walls. Within moments, your cunt clenches down around his digits, and he laughs in disbelief.

"again? baby c'mon you have a point to prove, don't you?"

Under any other circumstance, you would've bitten back, calling him some name, yelling some profanity- but now? Now you need him. You're so close, right on the edge of the water, ready to fall in, and only he can give you that last push. You know better than to open that smart mouth of yours right now.

"is this all it takes? y'know if you're gonna start off by being a brat- you gotta keep up with the act at least-"

"m'so-m'sorry-" you gasp, tugging against your restraints as you feel your high mere seconds away, "m'sorry please can I cum please I've been so good for you-"

Dokyeom nods, scissoring his fingers in and out of you more rapidly than before, and you cum with a scream, straining against the cloth binding your wrists as your orgasm rips through you like a whirlwind.

"that's my girl-" he sighs, placing a kiss to your inner thigh, while his fingers continue their movement inside you.

"Kyeom- oh- t-too much,"

Your cries fall on deaf ears, and he shoots you a sly grin.

It has been over an hour now, you're certain. Dokyeom's held you still and pulled orgasm after orgasm from you with his tongue, his fingers, both.

"p-please-" you whimper, tears streaming down your face as those long fingers slide into you once more.

"just one more, honey,"

Dokyeom presses tender kisses to your inner thighs- now wet with your slick- and pushes further into you.

"just one more for me, hm? you can do that for me, can't you baby?"

You nod, small sobs wracking your body. Of course you'll do this for him. You'll do anything for him. Plus, you can't say you aren't enjoying this-

"that's my girl."

[ohmytyong]

meet-cute

⤹ now playing: the christmas waltz by frank sinatra

PAIRING: stranger!jaehyun x female!reader

GENRE: smut (minors dni!!), strangers to lovers (?) au, fluff

WARNINGS: alcohol consumption, pet names (baby), explicit sexual content; unprotected sex (!always use protection!), heavy make out, nipple play, slight hair pulling, aftercare, pretty vanilla tbh

WC: 3,4k

SYNOPSIS: you were bummed that you had to spend Christmas all alone in a foreign country after your friends left you behind. little did you you would find a charming stranger to keep you company

A/N: merry christmas to everyone celebrating! here's a little gift from me to you <3

* .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

The muffled voices of people chatting around you mixed with the old christmas song playing from the bar's speakers filled the silence of your mind like a white noise. You whiffed the sweet scent of the red wine swirling inside the glass you were holding as you moved your hand from side to side, making you aware of your surroundings.

Despite it being Christmas eve, the bar was fuller than what you had expected. You would expect people to be gathered up at their homes, eating and having fun with all their loved ones, exchanging gifts and wishes and then getting wasted, laughing at the weird relative who had some more sips of alcohol than the others.

However, it turns out more people had the same fate as you. Sitting alone, in pairs, or in small groups at probably the only open bar in milan on this jolly day. You were informed about the jazz band that usually played live music here, yet you went to the place the only day of the year that they weren't there. Though it was kinda obvious they wouldn't be here today; it's Christmas eve for God's sake.

You took a sip of your wine, closing your eyes to savor the taste. You didn't know what it was, but the bartender definitely found your exact preference; sweet and strong on the tongue which leaves a slightly bitter aftertaste at the back of your throat.

As you set the glass down at the bar counter, you noticed a gust of air on your side, signaling someone else's presence. The woody masculine cologne that engulfed your nostrils made your head turn discreetly to the side, trying to take a glimpse of the man that it belonged to.

"A glass of Johnnie please, no ice," a soft baritone voice addressed the bartender and you couldn't help but fully turn your body towards the man, angling yourself in a position that showed your interest towards him yet keeping a safe distance.

The man definitely noticed your antics. You felt his fiery gaze look you up and down, taking in your full appearance. You flipped your hair, moving it all to the back which exposed your bare shoulder and upper chest. You noticed with the corner of your eye that the man drew in a sharp breath, shifting his body from side to side on the barstool. Your technique worked.

As you stretched your arm to grab your glass of wine, your heard the man clear his throat. "Now why would a beautiful lady sit alone at a jazz bar on Christmas eve?" the velvety baritone voice asked and the question was addressed to none other than you.

You finally met the man's gaze for the first time. He was gorgeous. His jet black hair was nicely styled, parted in the middle and framing his heavenly structured face, falling a bit long at the nape of his neck. His dress shirt was sitting tightly around his shoulders and chest, in contrast with the tie he was wearing which was hanging rather loosely around his neck. His sleeves were rolled up and you noticed his arm muscles flex as he brought the scotch glass to his lips, his watch glimmering under the dim lighting.

"Funny enough, I was about to ask the exact same thing," you played along, hiding your flirty smirk behind your glass of wine.

"You're looking for a beautiful lady too?" he asked, his eyes creasing as he smiled teasingly.

You chuckled at that, covering your mouth with you hand. So he had a sense of humor. "I meant a handsome man. But whatever rows your boat," you decided to play along, flirt with him too.

His eyes were piercing. He looked at you as if he were walking for miles in the dry desert and you were an oasis just a little ahead of him, like he was desperate to drink you all up. It would be lie though if you denied that you weren't looking at him the same way.

"I mean," he said between low chuckles, "there has to be a good reason why you're here. And alone," he finished, waiting for your answer.

You sighed deeply, tapping your fingers on the counter. "I was supposed to spend Christmas with my friends but they decided to be assholes and pull a prank on me. They dumped me. Told me we were going to Milan while they are in Vienna right now," you said, downing the remaining wine in your glass in one go.

The man visibly winced at what you said, as if he was physically in pain. "I'm sorry to hear that. That's so cruel, wow," he said, reaching out a confident hand to grab your hand resting on the counter, giving it an apologetic squeeze. Oh he knows what he's doing.

"What's your excuse for being here, pretty boy?" you asked playfully and he smiled. "My story isn't as sad as yours, it's actually kinda funny. My uh- my flight got canceled. I was in Milan for work and I was supposed to go home for the holidays but..." he trailed off, pressing his lips.

"Damn, i'm sorry," you said and you decided to flirt back now. Gaining dominance over his hand, you squeezed it, rubbing circles with your thumb over the back of his hand.

You noticed his eyes fixate on the spot your bodies were touching. Without realizing it, your barstool had moved closer to his and you could feel the heat of his body radiating along with the strong scent of his cologne. You hoped your perfume hadn't worn off after hours of wearing it.

"Actually," he spoke up, removing his hand from your grip, "something good came out of all this misfortune. I'm sitting at a nice cozy place with a beautiful lady to keep me company. Not that bad, isn't it? I'm Jaehyun by the way," he offered you his name, stretching his arms for a proper handshake.

It was ironic. You had already held hands without even introducing yourselves to each other. You giggled at the gesture and he smiled at your reaction, eagerly waiting for your name and your handshake with his arm still stretched towards you.

You gave him your name as you returned the handshake. The sight of the two of you must have looked somewhat awkward from a third person's point of view, but for you the interaction between you and Jaehyun had a warmth to it.

You didn't say it out loud like he did, but spending time with a lovely handsome stranger in a foreign place on Christmas eve wasn't as bad as it sounded.

You didn't realize it but you and Jaehyun had already been talking for almost two hours. Time passed by quickly, you were having a great time with him. He was weirdly charming, flirting with you in a slightly uncomfortable way despite the aura of confidence he radiated. He cracked jokes more than you expected and always found silly excuses to touch you, anywhere he could, signaling his obvious interest towards you.

It would be a lie if you said you weren't as interested in him, if more than he was. You found yourself laughing at everything he said, and you didn't mind the soft touches of his hand here and there. In fact, you craved them even more. You craved him. After two hours of talking, you weren't sure if it was the wine, the sleepiness or the pure lust you were feeling, but you couldn't bring yourself to listen to everything he said. You were lost in his eyes, his lips, his hands, his scent. You were sober enough to understand the pure attraction you had for him.

The bar was now almost empty. You saw the bartender cleaning some tables in the back, and only two groups of friends were there beside you and Jaehyun. You took this as a signal to get leaving as soon as possible.

After arguing with Jaehyun over who gets to pay for the drinks, he ultimately won over you, being kind enough to pay for all your refills of wine. You were opposed to this at first, but his kind gesture made your want grow even more, and the aching sensation between your thighs became too noticeable to ignore.

You wrapped your coat closely around your neck as you stepped outside the bar in the crisp coldness of December. You couldn't just go back to your hotel room like this. The night was still young, and you weren't ready to leave Jaehyun just yet.

"So, any plans for the rest of the night?" you asked, trying to get some information you could use in your favor.

Jaehyun shrugged, lifting his shoulders. "Not really. I mean, I'm alone here so there isn't anything else to do during this time of the night," he said, but you noticed that he wanted to say more than that.

You decided to take initiative and help him out of his shyness. "I know it's gonna sound a bit weird but," you drew in a breath, shivering from the cold and the nervousness, "would you like to come over to my hotel room for one more round of drinks? It's almost Christmas" you said looking at your watch.

Jaehyun tried to suppress a smile that was threatening to spread on his lips. You had cracked him. You knew he wanted you as much as you wanted him, and neither of you were ready to let go of each other so easily. Besides, like he said, you were all alone here. You only knew each other and there wasn't anything more fun than to spend more time with a person you grew to like. He had no excuse to refuse your offer.

With a hesitant nod, he looked into your eyes, smiling softly as he tried to study the intentions behind your question. "Sure, why not?"

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jaehyun kicked the door of you hotel room closed as he kissed you deeply, his hands resting on your back while yours were wrapped around his neck. Dropping your bag on the floor, you hurriedly took off your shoes, throwing them somewhere around the room.

Jaehyun struggled a little untying his shoelaces, but you helped him get rid of his jacket, throwing it somewhere behind him. You let your coat fall off your body, and with a quick motion your hands were back to where they were, wrapped around jh neck, pulling him close to reach his lips again.

The kiss was electric. Your entire body heated up with lust as you tasted on his lips the mixture of the different alcoholic drinks you had consumed earlier. Jaehyun slipped his tongue into your mouth, lowering his hands to the small of your back as you cupped his cheek with one hand, the other gripping the locks of his hair. In the heat of the moment, he wasted no time cupping your ass, lifting you up to wrap your legs around his waist.

On the short walk back to your hotel, you felt the constant need for him steadily rising and rising to the point you couldn't keep your hands to yourself anymore. It must've been hard for Jaehyun to keep his composure too, as he couldn't resist his urges anymore, kissing you in the elevator as you went up to the floor of your room.

You were both so needy for each other. Your tongues battled for dominance as Jaehyun lead you to the bed, dropping your body on the soft mattress as he towered above you, never breaking the kiss.

Your grip on his hair tightened, and he knew you wanted more. He attached his lips on your neck, pressing soft warm kissed along the sensitive area. He trailed his mouth from under your ear down to your already half-exposed chest and you mentally thanked yourself for choosing to wear a low-cut top. Soft moans escaped your lips as Jaehyun found all your favorite spots to kiss, smirking at the sounds that came out of your mouth.

His lips left your skin and you whined at the lack of his touch. He looked up into your eyes, searching for any type of consent, something that told him you needed him as badly as he needed you.

"What are we even doing?" he chuckled, running his fingers along your cheek.

You smiled at that. "i don't know,," you were honest with him. "But whatever it is, I like it. And I want it. Do you?" you asked him and he nodded quickly, resting his thumb on your lips.

"You have no idea" he said and in a second, his lips crashed with yours as he continued the battle of dominance you had previously started.

Jaehyun kept kissing you everywhere. No spot in your exposed body was left unattended by his soft lips, yet he needed more of you and you needed him in more places too. As if on cue, you arched your back to help him take off your top, followed shortly with an unclasp of your bra, the straps falling down your shoulders as he yanked it away. He immediately buried his face in your chest, sucking one nipple while teasing the other one with his fingers.

With trembling hands due to the pleasure, you loosened Jaehyun's tie, hastily unbuttoning his shirt. He sensed your struggle and detached himself from your boobs to help you get him undressed. Removing his shirt, he revealed his toned body to you, muscles flexing with every single of his movements. You didn't have enough time to fully appreciate his upper body as he dipped back in, not wanting to leave your nipples neglected.

Soft moans and whimpers left your lips as he kept on kissing you down your entire body, trailing your stomach down to your pants. Swiftly pulling the zipper, he slowly removed your pants and underwear, kissing your inner things along the way.

Your body jolted at the cold sensation of your naked core meeting the air in the room, and Jaehyun's mouth was so close to where you needed him the most that the thought alone made you even wetter.

Jaehyun took a step back to fully look at you. His pupils were dilated, eyes filled with nothing but lust and need. "Gosh you're so beautiful" he said in his low voice, a soft grunt escaping him as he unbuckled his belt, pulling down his pants and boxers revealing his own throbbing dick.

You gulped at the sight of his size, but it made you even more curious of how he would feel inside you. Jaehyun lowered himself above you, capturing your lips in a lazy passionate kiss.

"I really wanna take my time with you but I can't wait any longer. Do you think you can take me right now? No prep?" he asked you, the neediness in his eyes and voice so obvious, you could come undone any minute by now.

The truth is, you weren't sure if you could fit all of him inside you. But you needed him. you wanted him. The sooner the better. You couldn't take any more foreplay or teasing even though you'd like it. You just wanted to relase all the tension off your body.

"I can take it. I can take you," you said and you saw Jaehyun's eyes darken at your eager tone. He wasted no time, lining himself between your legs as he grabbed the base of his cock, bringing it to the opening of your folds.

"Are you sure you want this, Y/n?" Jaehyun asked you, waiting for your final answer, the one that would give me the green light to go.

You nodded. "yes, Jaehyun please. I want you right now," you pleaded and it was all that was needed for him to slowly thrust inside you, your velvety walls wrapping around his veiny length as he entered deeper and deeper until he bottomed out inside you, his hips touching yours.

A long moan was heard by both of you at the sensation of your bodies meeting in such an intimate way. "Fuck you're so warm" Jaehyun groaned and you moaned just at the sound he made, his eyes shut as he tried to fully feel you ad you took him all in.

Once you gave him the signal that he could move, he slowly lifted his hips, thrusting his dick in and out of your pussy, earning heavy breaths from you. Your arms searched for anchor at his toned back, digging your fingers in his shoulders as his thrusts grew faster and more eager, trying to get you to moan louder for him.

And it worked. As he kept on reaching spots so deep you never thought anyone could ever reach, Jaehyun kissed down your neck, groaning at the sound of your continuously louder moans, smirking on your skin when he pinched your nipped and you squealed, leaving out a high-pitched scream.

"You're so good at this Jae, you make me feel so good" you said in between moans and the nickname worked like magic for him. His breathing became heavier, burying his head on the crook of your neck as his thrusts became sloppier.

"Fuck you're such a good girl for me, I'm- fuck" Jaehyun's voice was mumbled as he spoke in the mattress, your moaning growing louder and louder.

"Please Jae I wanna cum, it's so good," you whispered, your breathing becoming sharper as he pressed a finger on your clit, rubbing it softly as he angled your hips higher to gain more access inside you. Your legs wrapped tight around his waist as his body was pressed closely on top of you. Jaehyun tried to kiss you, but the burning sensation between your legs kept you moaning inside his mouth, your eyes rolling in the back of your head as you reached closer to your climax.

"Jae I'm- I-" you tried to speak but the pleasure was too much for your brain to properly work.

Jaehyun never stopped nor changed his movements, quickly understanding what you like and what makes you a whimpering mess under him. "Come on baby, cum for me" he groaned as he kept on going, rubbing your clit slightly faster.

Your legs shook around his waist, a loud cry leaving your lips as you came around his cock. Jaehyun kept on going, riding you through your high as he chased his own. Hearing your soft moans, he came not long after you, warm liquid filling you up as your throbbing walls clenched around his length.

The two of you stayed like this for a while. Jaehyun only pulled out of you once his breathing was more steady, and you winced at the sudden emptiness you felt without his body inside you, or even on top of you.

Jaehyun layed for a few more seconds before he got up, searching for his boxers around the room. "I'm gonna get some tissues to clean you up, is that alright baby?" the pet name felt so natural coming from him. It was weird that it didn't really hit you when he said it during sex, but right now it made your stomach twitch.

Jaehyun went to the bathroom and came back holding some tissues. You moved your body towards him and let him clean you up from all the remaining liquids he had spilled on you. You found the gesture adorable, especially when you saw the concentration on his face, trying to leave absolutely no dirty spot on your body.

You thanked him for it and got up to find some clean clothes you could wear to sleep. Jaehyun was too comfortable getting under the bedsheets, laying in your bed as a sign that he would stay the night.

Fishing his phone from the inside pocket of his jacket, he read the time. It was way past midnight by now, and neither of you noticed how quickly time had passed when you had such a great time with each other.

His lips tugged into a playful smile before he spoke. "Look, it's past midnight. Merry Christmas!" he said as you climbed into bed beside him.

You laughed at his enthusiasm and sighed, turning to face him. If you were to tell yourself that you wouldn't spend Christmas with your friends this year but rather with a hot total stranger you came across at a jazz bar, you wouldn't believe it. But now, nuzzling into his chest, hearing the slow and steady beating of his heart, you were content with this turn of events.

You cupped the side of his face and his cheek rested heavy in your palm as he leaned his head to your touch. You pressed a soft peck on his lips, smiling. "Merry Christmas".

* .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

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[hotchfiles]

— help me hold onto you • aaron hotchner

fem!reader, unprotected vaginal sex, a bit of angst.

      He knew he would be in trouble whenever he turned those keys. What he wasn’t expecting was how big the trouble would be. He had no idea he would open the door to three bags full of clothes and other things he left at your place as the months passed, waiting for him.

      “Darling? What–What are these?” He asks even though he knows the answer, hoping you want to at least talk about it before making any harsh decisions. You’ve been in a relationship for almost a year now and it works. It always worked.

      Normally you wouldn’t drink before an argument, still when he gets to the kitchen he sees you calmly sipping on a tall glass of wine, fingers tapping on the table, hair up, face clean but red, you were in your pajamas already, nothing like you probably looked hours before.

      “What’s the only thing I asked of you, Aaron?” You don’t move, don’t glance up at him, eyes focused solely on how the purplish red liquid moved in your glass, taking a big sip right after.

      Aaron sighs in frustration, he didn’t want this to become a fight. He was so tired. “I know, I’m sorry–”

      “Answer the question, please.”

      “Don’t make promises I can’t keep.” He takes his tie off quickly, suddenly feeling suffocated by the fabric surrounding his neck. That’s why your relationship worked, you knew he was busy and his schedule was unpredictable, so very early on you accepted it as it was, saying you wouldn’t be mad at him as long as he didn’t break any promises. If you’re not sure, don���t promise me you will be able to make it.

      First months he wouldn’t promise you anything, too afraid to break it, to disappoint you.

      He watches as you take the wine in a mouthful and refills the glass, the bottle now empty and starts getting frustrated, you’re a loud drunk and you’re surely already getting tipsy.

      This was the first time he slipped up, it didn’t need to be such a big deal, it didn’t avail to having his things right at the door as if he was getting kicked out. All the other times he promised he could take time off, he did it. Just–Teens were getting kidnapped, the team needed him.

      “We saved two girls today.” Low blow. But it was true, he wasn’t back in time because of that, he got on the jet instead of staying back to do that. To save two thirteen year old girls. Not some futile reason. It had to count for something.

      “I’m proud of you for that, Aaron. Are you proud of me? For the promotion we were supposed to celebrate with my boss? Or are our accomplishments only worth it when it’s about saving someone?” You raise your voice only slightly, the alcohol from the sweet wine getting to you slowly and then all at once.

      You always tried your best to keep your voice down when arguing with him, simply because he never raised his, and it could be an endearing feature if it didn’t look like he did it to look like the rational one, the right one.

      “That’s not what i said–”

      “I know what you said. You want to make the fact you let me down okay because you did a wonderful thing someplace else. That’s not how it works.” You open the second bottle of wine of the night, feeling his eyes on your back. “I want you to leave.”

      “You know this is ridiculous, you’re acting like a child.” Sore spot. You were a few years younger and that had never been a problem. But he couldn’t go back now, he could see the anger darkening your eyes, your knuckles turning white by the strength you’re using to grip on the edge of the table.

      “How am I a child?” You begin slowly and keeping your voice down, you get up finally from the chair you had been sitting, facing him directly, his instincts make him try to touch your arms, but you dodge it quickly. “We had an agreement. You broke it. Am I a child for not giving you permission to hurt me again?”

      He knows you’re about to snap, your chest coming up and down in rapid breaths, and he doesn’t feel particularly in the right, he knows he screwed up and he’s sorry, but your reaction is out of proportion to him, an exaggeration made to make him feel more guilty than he already does. “I said you’re acting like a child. The one time things don’t go your way and you’re packing me out?” Aaron almost feels the sharpness of a slap but he’s quick enough to grab your wrist. “See? proving my point.”

      “How many times do I have to accept you screwing up so I can be seen as mature?” You yank your arm out of his grip and go back to your drink, “Same times as Haley? How many times did she forgive you so you could go around and do it all again?”

      Lower blow.

      Hotch feels it right in his core and he’s angry at you for bringing up but more so angry at himself because you were right. Still, it is anger nonetheless that guides his next actions, quickly and firmly walking up to you, caging you against the table in sudden movements.

      Your breath hitches from the surprise, and your attempt to move is stopped by his roughed hands on your chin, firm but never close to hurting. “I’m not leaving.” You wince, not in fear of him, but of how easy he can make your mind go blank when he’s that close.

      His eyes go from your eyes to your lips, he notices your failed attempt to conceal the way you licked your lips, he glances at your chest, heavy breathing under your thin pajama shirt, nipples hardening against the fabric.

      Damn you for choosing wine.

      Hotch reads your mind almost, but his smirk doesn’t last too long displayed on his lips, your hands pulling him by the neck, a low groan followed by a “Fuck this” leaving your wine tasting lips just mere seconds before gluing to his.

      Eager to get your forgiveness, he is quick to follow your lead, both hands sneaking under your clothes, one down the waistband of your shorts, grabbing hard on the flesh of your ass, the other drawing soft circles on your nipple.

      You melt into the kiss, his lips, his hands, his scent, him. And you have no time to feel bad about it, pulled up to sit on the table, legs around his waist, you can feel how hard he is against your wetness.

      A pained whimper leaves his lips when you use the new position to grind onto him, needing something, anything against your clit at this point.

      Aaron sinks his teeth into your bottom lip to get your full attention, earning a loud moan in response, his hands travel your thighs and you pull his shirt out his pants so you can feel his skin under your fingertips, not bothering to unbutton them and working with what you got under it.

      His lips travel your neck and your collarbone, “I love you, so, so much”. His declaration comes in between kisses and the sucking of your skin, “Please don’t make me leave after this.” It comes in a whisper now, but he doesn’t stop, pushing your shorts down and sliding it down till it drops to the floor with your help.

      “Just shut up and take your pants off.”

      “You know I can only do one of those.” It makes you laugh and you sink your nails to the bit of fat on his side, the tiniest bit of annoyance at how easy he had you in the palm of his hand and how he didn’t even seem to know it truly.

      On the edge of the table sliding his hard cock into your folds was an easy feat, pants, shoes and his boxers long gone, his socks stayed on almost making him lose balance as he feels just how wet you are. He drops his head, forehead on your shoulder

      “Fuck—Oh my god, you are so wet, you’re always so wet for me.” It isn’t arrogant, it’s appreciative almost, you move his head so you can look at him, hot, sweaty already, cheeks so red as his eyes were glassy, the mix of lust and love and regret clear in his dark caramel irises.

      You kiss him once more, sweet, forgiving and he takes this as his sign to continue, pushing you down the table, Hotch holds your thighs for support, plunging his cock into your wet cunt with ease, bottoming out at the first thrust. You enjoyed the stretching pain and you never had the patience to wait.

      Lower lips between your teeth, you slide one of your hands to your clit, two fingers working your arousal, quickly replaced by Aaron’s calloused fingers. You arch your back and moan loudly, “Fuck, yes, and move.”

      It feels like an order and for Hotch it is one, he is delighted to oblige, maintaining the same finger moves on your clit and beginning to fuck your pussy, strong, firm and precise at first.

      “Honey, fuck—Please…” His begging is meant to warn you that if you keep clenching around him he won’t be able to control himself, you almost don’t listen, fingers working on your own nipples enjoying the high he is always able to get you in.

      “Aaron—I’m… Fuck, don’t stop, you’re so good.”

      The praising, the guidance, the reassurance, it makes the moans leaving his lips seem like whining, he enjoys it too much.

      “Yeah? Like this?” The way your hands try to grab him is enough answer to him, along with how tight your pussy is throbbing against him, you’re almost there, he can feel it.

      His movements on your clit get sloppier, the sight and sound of your wetness against his digits making him go insane. Your back arches once more and your whole body begin to squirm, the tight coil in your lower belly finally ripping, “Yes, fuck—“ You’re breathless, weak, but you still have it in you to edge him in, “Aaron, baby, cum for me, please.”

      He would be crazy to do anything but, so quickly you ask him and his hands are hoisting both your legs over his shoulders, getting a new, deeper position, it doesn’t take long for you to feel him filling you up, “I can’t live without you, you’re so, so good for me” His lasts broken words before letting himself go.

      You don’t move and neither does he, his dick softening inside you, his hands caging you in the table and his head dropped to his chest, both just trying to recover.

      “Aaron?”

      “Yes, sweetheart?”

      “You can stay.” He looks at you with nothing but love and happiness and gratitude, “But if you screw up again do not try fucking me into forgiving you, I’ll chop your dick off.”

      “You like it too much to do that.” His grin is sincere, feeling finally free to joke around you, he gets out of you and you whine at the loss. “See?”

      “Bite me.”

      “Gladly.”

[kisses4reid]

scare | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,, (part 2)

general synopsis - you’re in a relationship with some one else and have a pregnancy scare, both your own reaction and spencer’s makes you realise that you’re not happy.

part synopsis - you take pregnancy tests at spencer’s apartment, because his will always feel safer than your boyfriend’s.

genre - bau!reader x spencer, friends to lovers, r is with someone else, douchebag bf trope, pregnancy scare, angst & fluff, comfort, reader is female with female anatomy and feminine

warnings - pregnancy, douchebag boyfriend, mentions of anxiety and sickness, swear words

w/c - >300 probably very short

a/n - how many parts will this have 🔮🔮🪄🪄 answer unknown. sorry it’s so short i wanted to get this out before i totally lost all motivation.

PART 1 HERE

Spencer turned on the seat warmers as soon as he turned on the car, but not too hot - you mentioned a year ago how easily you got warm. He looked over at you before putting the car into reverse, a million thoughts racing through his mind.

He could feel your tension in the air, you were mainly quiet, you sniffled once, you tightened your ponytail. It was a coping mechanism, if you could control the state of your hair, you could control the state of your body.

Leaving the grocery store parking lot, Spencer cleared his throat and started doing what he did best: talking.

“Did you know that your brain is constantly eating itself? It’s a form of phagocytosis, but it actually isn’t harmful. What’s more harmful is laughing, many people have actually died from laughing because it can cause loss of oxygen and heart attacks.”

You simply looked at him, eyes slightly wider than before as your cheeks threatened to raise in a smile.

“Thank you, but that just kind of made me more stressed,” you looked back onto the road, “Tell me more about fruits.”

“You can never get too much sugar from fruits, the water contents of the fruit slows down your digestion and makes you feel full. Plums, pears, peaches, and apples are all a part of the rose family. Tomatoes have more genes than we do.”

He glanced over to you, to see if you were still listening, which of course you were. You would never interrupt him, you would never stop listening, you would never stop Spencer.

He continued, quieter this time, “You don’t like tomatoes.”

“No, I don’t.”

Spencer opened the door for you and shoved his keys in his pockets, his scent surrounding you as you entered the familiar apartment. It was cozy and cluttered. Stacks of books and papers created tables for lamps and the odd pot plant, the wooden floors creaked in some places and the carpet under the couch had one stain from where you spilt wine that one time.

It smelt clean, and like Spencer. You smiled to yourself, and put your handbag on a side table, looking around what you considered your second home (after your childhood house).

“I always liked your apartment better than mine.”

Spencer swerved around you and placed the grocery bag on the kitchen counter, turning on the warm ceiling light. “Why’s that?”

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he glanced around his apartment - it didn’t seem all that spectacular to him.

You shrugged, sitting on a stool on the other side of the counter, “I don’t know, I guess it just… feels safe.”

So your apartment doesn’t? Spencer bit his tongue, not wanting to bring you any more stress than you were already suppressing.

The tests were still in the bag and they brought your attention like a moth to a light. You stood and joined him on the kitchen side, grabbing a glass (the one with strawberries on it) and filling it with water. Spencer looked at you concerned as you chugged the water in two gulps.

“I gotta pee some how.”

He nodded and clenched his jaw, “You can change into some of my clothes if you want.”

You thanked him, filled the cup back up and took it into his bedroom, starting your search for comfortable clothes that could maybe ease your tension.

He glanced at his bedroom door anxiously. Spencer was glad that you weren’t feeling as nervous, but he knew it wouldn’t last for much longer. Especially when your phone suddenly rings on the kitchen counter with ‘Lloyd’ on the screen.

“Uh, Y/n? Lloyd’s calling.”

Your shoulders hiked as you smoothed out one of his purple sweaters over your hips. An audible gulp echoed in your ears, and you yelled back through the door, “You can answer it.”

"Hello?" Spencer nearly whispered. "Where are you- Spencer?" "Uh, yeah. Hi." "Is Y/n at your apartment? Why is she at your apartment?" Lloyd’s voice raised. Spencer glanced into his bedroom, the door closed, the sounds of your shuffling around filling the otherwise silent space. "Yeah, she's at my apartment-" "God, she always at your's, isn't she? Tell her to go home, I need to talk to her. She's going crazy. Says she's pregnant, it's insane." He furrowed his eyebrows and pinched the bridge of his nose, a wave of rage rushing over him. "She feels sick, and she's thought about it. She looks pretty stressed." "When does she not look stressed?" Lloyd hung up, leaving Spencer speechless and shocked. If this is what he says and acts like all the time, no wonder you're acting like you are. When she's with me. She's not stressed, when she's with me.

You emerged from his bedroom and Spencer’s eyes latched onto his purple sweater and some of his sweatpants covering your nervous body.

His heart palpitated.

“What did he want?” You took the last sip of your second cup of water and looked at the pregnancy tests on the counter.

“Just wondering where you were.”

You nearly laughed, as if.

“Okay well, I’m gonna go… pee on some sticks.” You sighed and grabbed the boxes, Spencer clenching his jaw and nodding.

“Do you want me to stay here? Or come with you?” He asked softly, treating you like a delicate feather. You looked into his warm and caring eyes and smiled shortly.

“Sure. Just close your eyes and ears when I pee.”

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