#((I'M SO SORRY I FORGOT THE ASK FOR TWO WEEKS))

[imaginespazzi]

All Fell Down ~ Part 3 ~

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

* masterlist in collaboration with @azzibuckets *

summary: paige and azzi have never really been just best friends

a/n: Hello, hello my lovies <3 I'm so sorry; I literally just fully forgot to post this part yesterday because life has been so very hectic. But I think having an Azzi Fudd masterclass before this chapter is probably ideal. As always let me know your thoughts my loves!

Azzi should have expected the deafening silence that follows Paige’s name leaving her lips. If it wasn’t for the sound of the other girl’s breathing -staggered and heavy- she’d have thought perhaps it was a phantom call with no one on the other end of the line. And really Azzi doesn’t know what she was expecting; doesn’t know why she’d expected anything but exactly this when she’d picked up her phone. But when Paige’s CallerID had flashed on the screen, the buzzing of the ringtone cutting into Azzi’s pity party, there hadn’t been much else in her brain other than this sudden burst of hope. It had taken barely two rings before she was scrambling across her bed, grabbing her phone and hitting the green answer button with far too much vigor. It was one syllable but she’d wrapped Paige’s name in a desperate mixture of i just miss talking to you and please can can we fix this. And she’d gotten nothing in return.

“Paige?” she tries again, fighting the fresh new set of tears threatening to fall from her eyes; she’s lost count of how many times she’s cried tonight. 

There’s a sharp intake of air on the other end but still no response and whatever thin string had been holding the remnants of Azzi’s heart together seems to fray even more.

“Okay,” she breathes out, closing her eyes as she digs her fingernails into her palm, “okay Paige,” she repeats, her tone resigned and ready to accept something that feels a little too much like defeat, “I get it. I guess this was um- this was an accident or something so I’ll uh- I’ll hang-”

“Canyoucomepickmeup?” Paige’s words come out hoarse and slurred together as she cuts Azzi off.

“What?” the brunette’s eyes widen, unsure if she’s heard wrong. 

Azzi hears Paige gulp; can almost picture the blonde chewing at her lips like she usually does when she’s nervous, “I asked if- if you could um- can you come pick me up?”

“I-”

Paige begins to ramble before she can say anything, “it’s just uh- it’s just that the rest of team seems to be having a lotta fun and I- I think maybe I drank too much and my head’s throbbing and Evina says I should go home but-”

“Okay.”

“I can’t drive myself and I don’t- I don’t wanna ruin anybody else’s night-” Paige cuts herself mid sentence, taking a second to process what Azzi had just said, “wait- okay?”

The brunette has already slipped off her bed, rummaging around her bedside table for her car keys. She thinks she’s probably giving in a little too easily, thinks she should probably be more pissed at Paige’s audacity to not speak to her for two weeks and then call her out of nowhere to ask for a mundane favor. But it’s Paige. Her Paige. And Azzi knows that if the blonde asked her to show her the stars, she’d find a way to steal the whole night sky for her.

“Okay,” Azzi confirms as she slips into her sneakers, “I should be there in a couple of minutes.”

“You’re actually coming,” Paige’s voice is slightly dazed. 

There’s a pang in Azzi’s chest at the slight surprise in her best friend’s tone. It’s a testament to how much has changed between them. Those unspoken promises of we’ll always be there for each other that had been the solid foundation of their relationship seem to be clouded by fears of are we still the same us? It hits her then the depth of the abyss between them. They’re stranded on opposite sides of it and Azzi just hopes they still have enough strength to build a bridge over it and get to each other again. 

“Do you still want me to come?” she asks timidly as she steps out into the wintry Storrs air. It’s freezing cold but Azzi thinks it’s nothing compared to the way she knows her heart will ice over if Paige says no. 

That familiar silence lingers between them as Azzi waits for Paige to say something. It feels like that’s all she’s done for the past two weeks. Waited. She’d waited for the answers to her list of ever-growing questions as Paige had pulled further and further away from her. She’d waited to catch her best friend’s avoidant eyes so she could try and decipher the storm brewing in them. She’d waited, arms outstretched, for her Paige to come back to her. But she thinks that if Paige says no now, if Paige decides to keep building this wretched wall between them instead of helping Azzi tear it down, then she won’t wait again. Because the weight of waiting is just too much and there’s only so much longer that Azzi can hold on. 

“Evina said to go home,” Paige’s voice trembles when she finally speaks, “she said to go home and all I could think of- was you.”

“Paige,” Azzi whispers. 

“Azzi,” and that same desperation from before echoes in Paige’s tone, “please come take me home.”

[softtdaisy]

the right one - Charles Leclerc

summary. charles never forgot himself for letting you go. when arthur lose you, he is the one who has the heal your broken heart this time.

words count. 4,313

what to expect. it's the second part of the other one. I guess you can read it separately but some things might not make sense (specially the glue part). inspired by congratulations from Hamilton. mention of cheating, everyone is so sad in this story I'm sorry (im not) and arthur is terrible boyfriend

a/n. can you believe i told @monzabee about this fic in December 2023??? and it's finally out after all this time. I'm so happy I finally did it and gave these two another part, they deserve love and happiness.

F1 masterlist | general masterlist | request

When he first heard them, Charles didn’t want to believe the rumors.

For the winter break, he decided to go on a road trip in Italy with his best friends. For multiple reasons, he chose to get rid of any type of social media. Charles needed a real break after the season that had been more difficult than he thought it would. 

Also because a part of him still hasn’t gotten over you.

It was too difficult to see Arthur post pictures and stories with you all the time. And if he couldn’t escape it, nor you in the paddock during the season, Charles decided to leave all his bad feelings behind for a few weeks.

No matter how hard he tried these past months, Charles couldn’t get rid of his love for you. If he ignored you during the end of last season, even if he had your glue everywhere with him, he wanted to be nicer this year. 

Not like he had a choice if he wanted to keep a good relationship with Arthur, who still had no idea about what happened between you and Charles. He also wasn’t completely stupid: he knew it could look bad on him if he kept ignoring the photographer around the paddock. 

And it would be a lie to say that he didn’t miss you. Sure, a part of him was still aching when he was making you laugh and smile, thinking he couldn’t have the privilege to see that every day for the rest of his life because you chose Arthur over him. But he tried to be more mature and accept that if this was the best he could have, then he would appreciate it.

This was also one of the reasons why he couldn’t believe the rumors when he heard them. There was no universe in which someone would purposely hurt you.

The first time he heard about the rumors, it was because some friends from Monaco sent him a text. “What’s going on with Arthur? Is it true?” Charles was more than confused. What could be true about his brother? He didn’t want to sound stupid to ask them but still didn’t want to put his social media back on his phone.

So he turned to Joris. Because that man knew everything that there is to know. And because he knew that his friend would never lie to him. This explained the embarrassed expression on his face when Charles asked him if he knew anything about something Arthur might have done.

“You sure you want to know?” he asked him. Charles understood that something serious was going on. Even when the truth was ugly, Joris never asked him if he really wanted him to be honest. Not when Ferrari was not doing great, not when fans criticized him, not when everyone had something to say about his private life. But he didn’t hesitate a single second and agreed to hear the truth.

“Apparently…your brother cheated on his girlfriend.” Charles’ world went silent for a few seconds. That couldn’t be true. He couldn't believe it. People must be wrong and bored and choose to create drama because of the off-season. Right? 

“Actually…” Joris continued. “It’s not really a rumor since Arthur basically admitted it.”

It was a damper. 

Charles left for a few weeks, and his brother decided to ruin everything he gave up his own happiness for?

“Is it true?” He sent Arthur. No explanation.

“Yes.” He only answered.

It took Charles only a few hours to come back to Monaco. On the plane back, he opened his social media again, answered some comments and messages, and shared some Ferrari stuff. And looked at the mess Arthur created.

“Let’s review…” Charles started. As soon as he arrived, he asked Arthur and Lorenzo to come with him in the living room to discuss. They all stayed at the family house to deal with the major crisis. From what he learned, paparazzis were going around Monaco to catch any of you: Lorenzo, Arthur, and especially you. The victim of all this mess. 

Charles still hasn't seen you, though. Lorenzo’s girlfriend took you for a ride away from there, knowing Charles was coming back and that there would be a confrontation between the brothers. You didn’t need to hear about all that again. You knew the story. Well, you knew some parts of it. You refused to hear Arthur’s explanation. 

Charles knew it was for the better, but he still couldn’t wait to see you. Scared of how you would be. Scared of how he will react too.

He finally took a big breath before continuing. “This girl pretended to be pregnant with your child. And instead of just saying that you didn’t have sex with her, you said she wasn’t the one you slept with?” He chose his words wisely, taking the time to say everything correctly. Even if there were no good ways to talk about this situation.

“I panicked! What should I have done?”

“Don't say anything!” he screamed back, slamming his hands on the table. “You should have just shut your mouth and not said a fucking thing.”

“Charles…” Lorenzo warned him, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

He sighed and apologized, trying to calm down. His brother was right; there was no use being aggressive against Arthur. The harm has been done and couldn’t be undone. But when he gave his baby brother a look, he couldn’t handle it. Arthur looked like he didn’t understand why Charles was so angry. Like he couldn’t see the real harm in this. “Or better, you shouldn’t have cheated,” he added. 

Everything stopped around the three brothers. “Charles!” Lorenzo repeated, louder this time and with a more authoritarian tone. Like there was back in childhood when he had to play the big brother between the two younger brothers fighting for the same car. 

Except this time, it was for the same girl.

Charles knew he had to calm down and play it more cleverly. He closed his eyes and put his head in his hands, trying to think of a way to say things more nicely without making Arthur turn on him. He didn’t even know how he could do that: he was so mad at his brother for doing such a stupid thing.

“Aren’t you supposed to support me?” Arthur asked with a disdainful voice that made Charles look up immediately. He couldn’t even find the right way to answer this. Maybe Arthur could feel the disappointment, which is why he looked that angry. He was never the Leclerc who disappointed the family.

Lorenzo had a lot of pressure as the big brother, the one that had to be a model and perfect at any point. Charles had the celebrity pressure; being the most famous Leclerc, he had to behave perfectly. But Arthur? Everybody saw him as the baby, never accepting any bad decisions from him. Or even when he did, he was forgiven immediately.

He was not used to having people being mad at him. You were, which was already a problem. But Charles was too, and that he couldn’t handle. This explained why Arthur went upstairs silently. Well, as silently as he was, hitting the staircase loudly. 

Charles let out a loud sigh when Arthur disappeared. “You two need to talk.” Lorenzo told him, to which he agreed without the desire to deal with that right now. Instead, he started talking with his more reasonable brother about their holidays. He knew Arthur needed some minutes to calm down.

He needed them too.

He only decided to go upstairs when he saw the car parking in front of the house. You were back. 

And he couldn’t face you right now.

— 

“Thank you for coming.” Charles stopped what he was doing after that sentence. He had finally gone to see Arthur after you came back home. He waited just a minute to hear your voice, even if he couldn’t see you. He had no idea if he should accept some good or bad feeling from hearing you. He was torn between the fire that lit up again in his heart from your simple words and the hurt of knowing he was only there because of his and Arthur's bad decisions.

After he entered his brother’s room, the one he assumed you shared with him, they both stayed silent for a moment. Charles was dealing with his social media when Arthur finally decided to speak. 

And Charles was more confused than he should be. What did this mean? He turned around to look at Arthur. He was still standing next to the window, watching you outside talking with Lorenzo’s girlfriend. There was something on Arthur’s face that Charles didn’t like. Almost like he couldn’t understand why you came back. Why were you still around? Like he was waiting for you to go away after what happened. 

“I don’t know how to deal with that. I needed you here.” 

This time, it was Charles that couldn’t truly understand what was going on. Actually, no, he can. He loved his baby brother with his whole heart and would have done anything for him. To protect him. To save him from whatever situation he put himself into. But now, looking at him with the whole situation going around, Charles realized something. 

Arthur knew. He knew that Charles would have always come to his rescue. Sacrifice things for him. Do anything for his brother’s happiness before his. And that’s what he was expecting from today too.

“No.” Charles first said, mostly for himself. But it made Arthur turn around too, curious. For the rest, it came out more confidently. Like a part of him had been waiting for ages to finally say these words. “I’m not here for you.” 

He heard Arthur’s nervous laugh, and he took a step back. He wasn’t even scared of his brother; it would have been stupid for many reasons. No, he was more scared of his own mind right now. He still couldn’t believe he said it. Out loud. What he was thinking from the start.

You became his priority. 

You had been for so long. 

But Arthur didn’t let him go away with him and took this step forward and some others. “What do you mean?”

“You fucked up, Arthur.” Charles started, pointing at the window. Pointing at you. “You cheated on your girlfriend. She was willing to give up everything for you; she already did in the past. And you thank her like that? By sleeping with some other girl you don’t even know? Do you seriously think that’s what she deserves?” 

Arthur looked at him blankly. With just a smirk. Not a fun or laughing one. No, a mean one. One that Charles had never seen on his brother. It was almost like he was discovering a new face for his baby brother. And the worst was yet to come.

“You still love her.” Arthur said with an emotionless voice. And it was a real hit in the heart for Charles. He never thought that Arthur knew about his feelings. Sure, he had never been more discreet when it came to his heart. And the way he went from praising you to ignoring you during the weekend said a lot. Maybe the worst part wasn’t much that Arthur knew about his feelings. It was that he knew and let Charles sacrifice himself for him. “I should have expected it. She’s hard to forget, I guess.”

“You’re going to learn now.” Arthur laughed at this answer because it was the truth. He played, and he lost. Just like Charles did last year, technically. If Charles gave up, Arthur lost at his own game. The game over wasn’t the same, except for the fact the lost prize was the same: you. You and your heart. You and your beautiful smile were maybe gone for longer than it should have been.

Charles couldn’t handle it anymore. The more he stayed in this room, the more he was getting hate for his brother, and it was definitely not the family dynamic he wanted. So he walked to the door, ready to leave. Or to finally do what he wanted from the beginning. 

“Can I ask you a question?” 

Charles turned around one last time to look at his brother. But Arthur wasn’t looking at him. He took his place back, near the window. Watching you. From there, it looked like he was trapped in some kind of prison. One he was to blame for being in. But maybe the real story behind this was that he was the watchman and you were the prisoner. At least for now.

“Why did you let me date her?” 

“Sometimes you love someone so much you accept to put their happiness before yours.” Arthur gave him one single look. One that said everything that needed to be known. He wasn’t the one Charles gave up his happiness for. He did it thinking it was the right decision for you.

— 

When Charles went outside, you were still there. Alone this time. You sat on the swing seat, your eyes locked on your own shoes, not giving any interest to the environment around you. Charles’ heart broke a little at this sight. The sun wasn’t supposed to stop shining on the people around it. You weren’t supposed to stop being this joyful person. 

Even if he tried to walk slowly and not scare you, you jumped when Charles sat next to you. “Sorry,” he immediately mumbled. You offered him a small smile while he was trying to find a good seat. Ironically, he was making it move even more and making it harder to sit.

You were the one holding on to the structure to slow the movements. “I’m not great at this.” He laughed nervously. Charles didn’t know how to act around you. It wasn’t easy most of the time. But now it was even harder. They never teach you how to act around the woman you loved and let go, but even less when this same woman got her heart broken by your brother. 

“Thank God you’re better behind the wheel,” you replied, now looking straight in front of you. You couldn’t meet his eyes. You felt guilty. Sure, this whole situation wasn’t your fault; nothing could ever make you think that. But you hated that Charles had to comfort you now. After what happened between you last year, it didn’t feel right. Or fair. 

Charles shrugged, purposely hitting on your shoulder while doing it. “Well, you’re not seeing him when I sit in the car.” You turned your face to him and couldn’t contain a laugh when you saw his proud expression. In the dark, his smile was the small light you needed to not break down. It made you feel like there was still hope out there.

So when Charles stopped smiling, naturally a tear fell from your eye. “I’m so stupid,” you sighed, playing with your fingers. Immediately, he grabbed one of your hands and started playing with them too. You remember how it was something you did to him back then, when there was still something building around you. When he walked out of the car, he wasn’t very proud of what he did.

You both had the same habit of playing with your hands to avoid eye contact and focusing on something else. 

You also both had the same habit of grabbing each other’s hand to help ease the anxiety. 

“I never thought Ar…he would break my heart like that,” you confessed in a quiet and broken voice. A voice that was like a knife right in Charles’ heart. “You said it yourself, he has a pure heart. So why did he change? What did I do wrong?” 

You started crying again. And Charles was fighting to not break down too. He hated seeing you like this. He hated that he was the one pushing you into Arthur’s arms. If Charles didn’t cause the pain, he was the triggering factor. If only he had been more selfish and kept you for himself, this wouldn’t have happened.

He got up, making the structure move again, but this time you didn’t have the strength to hold it. But the swinging didn’t last long. Charles immediately kneeled in front of you, grabbing your legs to stop you from swaying. And once you were stable, one of his hands moved to your face softly. You didn’t hesitate a single second before cuddling against it, even if it meant your tears would now fall on his fingers. If you didn’t want to share your pain with him, that was all Charles was asking. To take it with him so you would feel less hurt.

“You have nothing to do with Arthur’s mistakes, ok? I hate to say that, but I was wrong. I really thought he would treat you better than…” He stopped for a second, closing his eyes to consider what he wanted to say. But he was tired of holding back his words. “Better than I would. I never imagined he would do that; otherwise, I would have never pushed you in his arms. You deserve better, ok?” 

You were absorbing every single word he was saying. Trying to remember every millisecond of his monologue so you could recite it before going to sleep that night and all the following ones when you would remember giving your heart to the wrong brother. 

“You deserve the world.” Charles pursued. You watched as he put a hand in his jacket pocket to get something. “And I hope one day you’ll find the strength to open that glue too and accept the help from someone to heal your broken heart.” 

He handed you the glue. The very same glue you gave him for his birthday. You weren’t quite sure Charles had healed his heart; he wasn’t sure himself. 

The fact he kept it this whole time—more than that, that he had it with him tonight—was the forward thrust you needed.

You thanked him silently, with a smile that he understood immediately. Charles stayed like that for another minute, brushing away the tears that were still falling and caressing your knee in the softest way you’ve ever felt.

Then he sat back on the swing seat, with more precaution this time. For the next ten minutes, he tried to change your mind by speaking of the last season and what was coming. You didn’t speak much, except for some reactions here and there. The conversation wasn’t the real distraction in the end.

It was seeing Charles so full of life, something you’ve waited to see since you’ve met him. Deep down, you took it as proof that a better future was coming.

“Let’s go inside.” Charles offered after noticing the shivers in your body grow bigger. “I can escort you to your room.” He knew that you were staying in the guest room. It wasn’t hard to guess anyway, as all the brothers took their own room, and there was no way you would be sleeping with Arthur that night. 

A part of him wished he could comfort you to sleep anyway. 

Especially after you grabbed his hand to follow him inside. So lightly that he could let it go easily if he didn’t pay attention. But enough for him to feel the contact of your skin together and feel the heat growing in him. 

“Goodnight,” you whispered to him, closing the door. Charles hated how he only noticed now how your makeup had actually been ruined through the day.

___

Charles was taking his shirt off when he heard slight bangs on his door. He was clearly not expecting anybody, especially not now and not in his family house. 

His mom was already asleep; Lorenzo was never the type to come when the doors were closed; Arthur still hadn’t come back from what he knew. So it didn’t leave many possibilities.

As he could expect, you were the one behind the door when he opened it. Charles found it sad that you were still wearing the same pajamas you probably brought for your holiday: an old shirt that he recognized from Arthur’s wardrobe and a short that was showing too much leg for his own good. 

But what made him even sadder was the expression on your face. If he thought you looked sad earlier, it was nothing compared to now.

“Do you mind if…” You didn’t even finish your sentence before your voice broke down. Charles moved aside to let you come in, giving a look in the corridor to make sure you were alone. Even if he didn’t have to explain himself if anybody saw you. 

He would never let you be alone in the situation. Nor ever, now that he thought about it.

What he didn’t expect was that the moment he closed the door, you would fall in his arms. You didn’t show much attention to him except for accepting the one he gave you earlier. But you were the one who initiated it. Compared to now.

“I'm so tired of this, Charles,” you mumbled against his naked chest. The first thing that came to your mind was how you never felt more safe and comfortable than right now, in his arms. Not even Arthur could make for his big brother natural reassurance. 

It was something that has always been true about Charles. People, friends, members of the team, family, and anyone who needed to feel comfort knew they could go to Charles for this. If he felt like he wasn’t always finding the right words, it seemed to work enough for people to feel better when they left.

Maybe that was always true about him too. People never seemed to stay.

“He’s not planning on coming back, and he left alone here, in your family house? What am I even supposed to do here by myself?” You started again, sounding angrier now. “I can’t fucking sleep in his bed because it makes me sick. Sleeping in the guest bed makes me feel bad because I don’t belong here. I feel bad because he’s not here. But he’s the one who fucked up. Why do I feel bad? Why do I feel guilty? Charles, I…”

Every word you said was like a knife in the heart for him. Hurting more than the punches you were hitting on his chest.

With each hour passing from this morning, Charles felt worse about the decision he took months ago. He should have never let you go. He would have never treated you this way. 

When you broke down, Charles held you harder against his chest. He was humming, trying to calm you down. His head was above yours, and at some point, he naturally started kissing your hair. He was trying to create a peaceful bubble where you would feel at ease. Less sad.

“You can sleep here,” Charles offered in a whisper. “I don’t mind.” 

It wasn’t until you were lying in his bed that you asked the question. Charles’ idea was to let you sleep in his bed and for him to sleep in the guest room. At least you didn’t risk Arthur coming at night, and he could deal with his brother. It never occurred to you that you would ask for the situation to be different.

But you grabbed his hand after he moved the sheet up your chest. “Would you…can you stay with me? Please?” 

Charles looked at you with confusion but also hope. A hope that lowered over the months but that never died. He replied with a simple nod and sweet smile. A reassuring one. In a home where you probably felt unwelcome, even if it wasn’t entirely true, Charles wanted you to know you were at the right place right now.

So he didn’t waste another minute and went to lie next to you. The boundaries were pretty obvious with each of you sleeping at the end of the bed and with a gap between your bodies. While you were facing the wall, he was on his back, trying to organize the mess that had been that day. 

Right when he closed his eyes to try to sleep, he felt the mattress moving. He couldn’t resist giving you a look. You were now facing him with your eyes open. “Charles?” you whispered. 

He was obviously awake, yet you were scared of disturbing him. But he gave you that smile. The one he only had the secret. The one that opened the door to his life, his head, his heart. 

“Will it be ok?” 

You knew he would understand what you meant.

When you met Charles, he was so heartbroken that he chose to put all the good things in his life aside because he felt like he didn���t deserve to be happy anymore. And even if his anxiety was still a battle he had to fight every day, it got better. A few months ago, he probably would have ignored you because he would have thought it wasn’t his place to comfort you. To be the good person in your life.

But there he was, sharing a bed with you. Thinking that maybe tomorrow could be better. And that two days later could be even better.

He knew.

That was why he took your hand, the one resting on your pillow next to your face. He held it until you chose to intertwine your fingers together. A contact you both needed. To heal the past and the future.

Charles moved to lie on his side, facing you. And with his thumb brushing your skin, he gave you the only thing you needed to hear that night.

The only thing he also needed to say. 

“It will. I promise."

[d3athmask-d1v1ne]

Vengeance and Valentines

Two-Face x Female Reader

⁽ᶜᵂ: ᵐᵘʳᵈᵉʳ, ʸᵃⁿᵈᵉʳᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗ, ᵖᵒˢˢᵉˢˢⁱᵛᵉ ᵇᵉʰᵃᵛⁱᵒʳ⁾

(Author's note: this was originally a request for @yandere-wishes, but I accidentally deleted the original draft. My bad, I can be such a ditz. Anyways, happy Valentine's Day!)

You carefully inspected the image reflected in your vanity mirror. You had a date tonight, and your mind was filled to the brim with worry. Was your makeup good? Did your jewelry match your outfit? Was the dress you picked out good enough?

You take a deep breath.

"You look perfect." you told yourself, your reassuring smile reflected back at you.

You turn your attention to the alarm clock sitting across the room on your bedside table.

It's 6:00 PM. One hour before Harvey should be here.

"Maybe I should have waited a bit before I got ready." you sigh. Well, now you've got some time to kill. You grab a book from your bookshelf and go to sit on the edge of your bed.

You open the book and find yourself unable to focus on the words in the page, your mind still racing with worry.

"Are you putting yourself in danger by dating a known criminal?" You ask yourself.

Not only was he wanted by the police, but there's plenty of monsters who have a bone to pick with your lover. Sure, Harvey, as well as his alter Two-Face, wouldn't let any of them lay a finger in you, but you'd have to be stupid to ignore the fact that by associating with them, you're putting a target on your back.

Two-Face is also known to get jealous. You recall how a few weeks ago he snapped and threatened one of his henchmen because he believed they were ogling you. The poor bastard swore up and down that he was doing no such thing, but Two-Face wasn't having it. You had to talk him out of hurting the guy.

Even though it is obvious that what you're doing is dangerous, you're still hesitant to leave Harvey. You love him, after all, and you seem to have evaded misfortune so far. There's also a small part of you, a darker, maybe even masochistic side of you, that wants to find out how bad it can get.

You try to ignore all these thoughts racing around your mind but to no avail. Frustrated, you put down the book and look at the clock.

An hour and twenty minutes has passed.

"Where the hell is he?" you mutter in mild annoyance, before you hear a knock at the door. You quickly make your way out of your room and to the front door.

Upon opening the door, you are greeted by the sight of your darling in his usual two-toned suit, stained with blotches of deep red blood.

"Sorry I'm late," he begins to speak, ignoring the shocked expression on your face. "I forgot I had some last minute business to attend to."

"Harvey... you're..."

"Oh, right! The blood. Didn't have time to change. We'll just swing by my place before we head out to dinner." He takes you by the arm rather suddenly and leads you to his car which he parked in your driveway. He ushers you into the backseat, before he gets up front and starts the car.

Once the shock wears off a little, you gather up enough courage to ask what exactly is going on.

"Somebody's been getting too close to you for my liking." He explains, still very nonchalant about the very strange situation he's put you in. "You know that guy you work with? The chatty one?"

Dreads courses through your veins as you figure out what he's going to say next.

"He was just a coworker! You didn't need to kill the man!"

"Just a coworker? The man has been planning to ask you out for a while." Harvey justifies.

"How would you know that? What, have you been watching him? Going through his stuff? Fuck, even if he was going to ask me out, I would have just turned him down!"

Harvey's jaw clenches. You can tell you're starting to anger him.

"(Y/N), I trust you enough to know you won't leave me, but that doesn't mean I can stand idly by as somebody tries to steal you away. It doesn't matter that they won't succeed, it's the fact they even think about it in the first place." He says, trying to keep his voice as calm and steady as possible.

There's a silence between the two of you for a few minutes, before Two-Face speaks up.

"I could have been more brutal, you know? The bastard got lucky. If he lost the coin toss, I would've prolonged his death. He's lucky he just got a knife through the heart."

You don't respond.

"Look, I know what I did was drastic. I know I scared you, but I did it because I love you too much to risk losing you. Now, we're almost at my place. How about I get changed, then we enjoy our night out, okay? I'm sorry for worrying you."

Harvey waits for your response.

"Alright, babe... let's just get going." You sigh and force a smile.

You knew how dangerous loving this man could get. There's no backing out now. All you have to do is ignore the dread in your stomach and try to enjoy your special night out.

[the-shield-anon]

*I enter through a portal, while looking like I just came out from all the world wars*

Got any nitroglycerin? I need to heal up my wounds.

"Nitroglycerin? Well I do now. Here you go."

They flick their wrist and with a little magic, a bottle of the stuff shows up in their hand. They hand it over to Smith.

[msdk-00]

i love my professor who is a medievalist and thus speaks how one might expect a medievalist would. we should all throw a Most Excellent in our emails more often.

[fragglerockopinions]

:// I don't know how anyone can ship Kaveh and Alhaitham. It doesn't feel like playful "haha I hate you lol" teasing, it feels like two people who desperately need a divorce and not even in a funny way. Alhaitham is genuinely financially and verbally abusive to Kaveh. Am I missing something?

[aperrywilliams]

A Bit Rougher (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Summary: You and Spencer have been in a relationship for a little bit more than four months now, and the team doesn't know. One day, the BAU girls ask you by your mystery partner they know you have - even if they don't know who it is - and bring up a topic you are not so sure to share with Spencer yet: your kinky side in sex. What happens when the same Spencer puts a test on you on that matter?

Word Count: 6.5k (I'm not sorry)

Warnings: SMUT/18+/MDNI. Where do I start? Reader sleeps with Spencer (obviously). Talks about sex life. Mentions of tantric sex and rough sex. Mentions of some kinks like choking, spanking, and dom-sub dynamics. Clothes get ripped, Spencer calling you 'my girl' (oh God), masturbation (f receiving), fingering, kind of choking, dirty talk. Spencer does his best as a dom (soft!dom because it can't be any other way), penetrative sex, spanking, begging, more dirty talk, creampie (it really doesn't exist another word for this?), and aftercare. Spencer is the best boyfriend in the world. If I forgot something, please let me know.

A/N: This one was a request. I can't find the original message, and I don't know if the person who asked wanted their name here (I can quickly add it if they want to).

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The moment rays of sunlight peek through the curtain and hit my face, I turn to my back to avoid them, not ready to fully start the day yet.

Still half awake, half sleepy, I can feel a pair of hazel looking at me. I peek one eye open, and I see Spencer smiling at me.

"Good morning, beautiful," he rasps. And I don't know why such simple words have me blushing like a schoolgirl. Beaming, I return the greeting.

"Morning, handsome."

I get my reply with a lingering kiss on my lips, which I fully savored until a sudden thought came to me.

"What time is it? We need to get up."

Spencer, with his calm voice, shakes his head.

"It's a bit early yet. We have time. Also, you have some clothes here, so you don't need to go to your apartment before driving to work."

Smart me for bringing clothes to his apartment. It's an obvious decision, though, considering I have spent more nights here in the past weeks than in my place.

A devilish smirk makes an appearance on my face.

"So, we do have time, don't we?"

"Yes, sweetheart. We do," Spencer mumbles, scooting closer and peppering kisses on my face and then down to my collarbone.

Oh boy, this is what I call a good way to start the day.

-

How much time can you fool a bunch of the best profilers in the country, hiding your relationship with one of your coworkers? Spencer and I keep the count. The mark is set now in four months and two weeks.

It's not that we are embarrassed by what we have or anything close to that. It's just that things started so casually and naturally, and they're running so smoothly, so we want to keep it to ourselves as long as we can.

And by now? It's working.

We have also been careful about it. On our first nights together, we woke up early and went home for a shower and a change of clothes. After some weeks, we started to pack extra in our go-bag. Now, we have at least a change of clothes in each other's places. The second rule is never to get to work at the same time or on the same transportation. Spencer usually takes the metro even if I can drive and make time in the parking lot. Just one day, we did it, and we were so worked up in our making out session that we almost got caught by Morgan, who parked two cars away from mine.

Naturally, any form of PDA at work is completely off-limits. That's the toughest rule to follow. After all, we spend more time at the office and on the road than we do at home, so avoiding any kind of touch is definitely a challenge.

Despite all that, I can't help but feel happier every day as I fall deeper for Spencer. I often feel like a schoolgirl with a crush, constantly distracted by thoughts of him. Clearly, my behavior hasn't gone unnoticed, at least not by the three girls cornering me right now in the BAU kitchen.

"So, are you going to deny you're having fun these days?" Emily teases me while JJ and Penelope giggle in agreement.

"Where did that come from?" I say, intentionally diverting my gaze to the mug I'm filling with coffee.

"It's just basic observation, my dear," Penelope chimes in.

"Basic observation? I honestly don't follow you guys at all," I reply, feeling a bit overwhelmed by this unexpected Tuesday morning interrogation. This time, JJ steps forward with her evidence laid out right before me.

"We have all noticed the changes in you over the past few months—the giddy smile that lights up your face when you read a text on your phone, the new pep in your step, and how you hurry home every time we finish a case. Do I need to say more?"

"Busted!" Garcia points a mocking finger at me. I roll my eyes in fake annoyance. After all, they are completely right.

"Okay, okay. Yeah. I'm seeing a guy. Happy?" I confess, and Garcia squeals.

"Yay! We need to know everything about him."

Oh. That's dangerous territory.

JJ notices my discomfort and tries to ease it a bit.

"Penelope, I'm sure we'll know more with time. Right?" JJ looks at me, and I nod appreciatively.

"Okay. But the basics. Is the guy good?" Emily asks. A silly smile appears on my face.

"Of course he is. He's caring, fun, always attentive-" I'm about to start a rant about how my mystery man is perfect. But Emily's snort stops me at mid-sentence.

"What?"

"Emily is asking if he is good in bed!" Penelope clarifies, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Oh, Lord. What have I got into?

"Are you really expecting me to tell you about my sex life?"

The three girls nod in unison with no shame. Well, I guess I got my answer.

"Like if you haven't done it before. And for what it is worth, we all have said something about it more than once. That's why we created girls's night in the first place," Emily points eloquently, as always.

Touchè. They are right. I have said more than I would like to admit about my sex life. But now it's not that simple. We are talking about Spencer, even if they don't know it yet.

"Then? Is he good or not?"

I contemplate my answer not because I don't know what to say but not revealing more than necessary.

"I don't think good is enough to describe sex with him. The first time we slept together was amazing. The whole night was if you know what I mean. Since then, we have taken our time, savoring the moment, giving, and receiving a new part of ourselves when we do it. So, yes, sex with him is more than good."

"But it could be better," Garcia interjects, and I look at her baffled.

"How's so? Didn't I just say the sex is great?"

The three women nod in agreement, but I think I'm missing something here.

"Don't take it the wrong way, my lovely. We are really happy you are having fun and enjoying yourself," Garcia says, patting my shoulder. "But it sounds pretty vanilla to me. And it's not bad! Not at all!"

I frown, and Emily rolls her eyes, continuing Garcia's idea.

"What Penelope tries to bring here is what we talked back then about your last partner. Remember? The one who liked tantric sex?"

Oh. Yeah. I remember that one. It's not one of my finest choices, if I have to be honest. But it wasn't the guy's fault.

"Yeah. What about him?"

"You forgot how you complained about him being basically a statue? That you wanted it rough, and the guy never got the memo?" Penelope fills in, arching an eyebrow. My cheeks are flush crimson right now.

"I can't believe we are talking about this in the office kitchen," I mumble, embarrassed. "But that was different."

Emily scoffs. "What? Did you change your kinks now? What happened with the choking, the spanking, the begging, and all those things?"

"Emily Prentiss, can you please shut up? This conversation is too much for a morning in the office," I complain, shaking my head to try to cool my red face.

"Okay, okay. I'll stop. But if you are still into it - and I'm sure you are - maybe it's a good idea to share it with your partner. Healthy sex life and all that, so it doesn't happen what it did with the tantric guy."

"Well, thank you all for your concern. But I think I'm good. Now, can we please drop the subject?"

Luckily for me, the girls listened and changed the topic. By the time we leave the kitchen, I feel less embarrassed and ready to continue my paperwork.

But the conversation kept popping into my head from time to time during the day. My sexual preferences haven't changed 180 degrees, that's true, but with Spencer, it's different. I wouldn't want to bring something like that up if it's going to make him uncomfortable. Our relationship is still fresh, and I'm happy with our current sex life.

And talking about Spencer, I haven't seen him the whole morning. By the time lunchtime arrives, he doesn't come back to his desk, so I go with the girls and Morgan.

When we come back from lunch, I finally see him at his desk, concentrating on a pile of files. A smile creeps in my face. He looks so damn good with the crocked tie, messy hair, and shirt sleeves rolled up his forearms. This man has ruined me just sitting there. I'm doomed.

"Hey," I call his attention, and he turns his head to look up at me.

"Hi," he returns a smile.

"I haven't seen you around in hours. Are you okay?"

A frown appears on his face, but he brushes it off quickly.

"Me? Oh, yeah. Fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. It's just Hotch that had me checking and analyzing a pile of boxes with folders from old cases in the store office. That's all."

It makes sense. Spencer's fast reading is a blessing and a curse, and obviously, people tend to use it often in the office.

"I'm sorry, sure it wasn't a very entertaining task."

A shy smile creeps on his lips, and I have to use all my self-control not to pounce on him right now and pepper his face with kisses.

"It's okay. I'm already done, anyway. How has been your morning?"

"Oh. Mostly paperwork. As everyone. But I think I'll be done soon, too." Before continuing, I check my surroundings to ensure nobody else is listening. "Maybe we can go home early?" I suggest seductively.

The flush in Spencer's cheeks is endearing. It's like the ones I sported this morning when the girls were interrogating me. And they want me to tell this boy about my kinks? No way. I won't do that if it means he won't feel comfortable with me again.

"We could. But I'm afraid plans will have to wait," Spencer says as his gaze shifts from me to Garcia and the quick tip-tap of her heels, heading to the conference room.

Fuck. A new case.

-

Don't get me wrong. I love my job. But being stuck in the middle of the desert, looking for an unsub that seems to be a ghost? And I say 'ghost' literally because we are looking for a guy who is dead for the town records. No, this is not my idea of a 'normal work day.'

It's frustrating, and not only for the lack of progress. The heat here is like hell. The AC barely works, and everyone's mood is bitchy.

We are not making any progress by now, so Hotch sends us to the hotel for the night. Once in my room, I text Spencer, not with an explicit purpose but to talk to him for a while. But he doesn't answer my texts. Is he sleeping by now? Considering he's a night owl, I found it very rare. But maybe he's drained like everyone else, so I let it slide.

In the morning, after my shower, I'm checking my phone, and I don't have any messages. Has Spencer received my texts?

I don't want to sound paranoid, but it's like something is going on. At the precinct, I barely get a hello from Spencer. Okay. Maybe it's the stress. I don't give it too much thought, either. Not when we have work to do.

And boy, we have been working hard on this one. Some clues give us hope, but we're far from catching the unsub.

In the little spare time we have between interrogations and visiting dumping sites, I try to share moments with Spencer, but it definitely seems like he doesn't want to be alone with me in the same room, even if he doesn't say it or shows signs of annoyance or animosity towards me.

I can't tell why he is so distant, but it's starting to worry me. Did I do something? And it's killing me because the more I think about it, the more I miss him. A kiss, a hug, anything from him would ease the ache I'm starting to feel.

It doesn't help that he has been choosing to wear the sexiest clothes he has in his go-bag. Those tight grey pants that accentuate his ass, those button-ups with sleeves rolled up.

We have been here for six days, and I think I'm going crazy. I have been trying to be subtle and professional. But I swear that if one more day goes by without being able to feel Spencer's touch, I don't know what I'll be able to do.

It seems heaven has listened to me because we finally managed to catch the unsub, and we're on the jet on our way home. But I'm nervous. I didn't even want to sit next to Spencer like I usually do. I don't know why. What if he wants to break up with me, and I'm just dragging things out?

What the hell am I talking about? I don't believe I'm thinking clearly here. But this week has been so odd that I don't know what to think.

Maybe when we land, I can finally talk to Spencer and put an end to my overthinking. With that in mind, I doze off for the rest of the trip.

Once the jet is down, I'm starting to gather my things when I hear Spencer rushing out, saying goodbye to everyone.

Disappointed and frustrated, I leave the tarmac.

Maybe a full night of sleep in my bed isn't a bad plan after all.

But be that as it may, fuck you, Spencer Reid.

-

As if all that had happened wasn't enough, when I got to the parking lot, my car fucking didn't start. I knew I had to get it checked before.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

That delayed my arrival home for another 45 minutes.

Now, disappointed, frustrated, and with no car, I slam the door shut. The apartment is pitch black, and I have no energy to flick the lights on, so I drag myself to the bedroom. When I open the door, a yelp escapes my mouth when I see a silhouette of a man sitting in the chair I have in one corner.

I'm about to reach for my gun when the bedside lamp flicks on, and the scare turns to confusion when I see Spencer sitting there.

"What the fuck!"

"Hi," he says as if he hadn't almost scared me to death two seconds ago.

"Spencer! What are you doing here?" My voice sounds harsher than I intended, but Spencer brushes it off quickly.

"Waiting for you," he says matter-of-factly.

I'm officially confused. We were together an hour ago? He left without saying anything.

"I don't understand. The way you left the jet in such a hurry, I thought I was the last person you wanted to be with."

My words come out resentful, but I can't help it. Spencer's eyes soften. I averted his gaze as I dropped my go-bag, unholst my gun to set it on the safe, and sat at the end of the bed to remove my boots.

"Hey, don't say that. Of course, I want to be with you," Spencer says, standing from the seat and kneeling to help me remove my boots.

"I'm sorry, but it didn't show that way. You avoided me all week!"

Great, now I sound like I'm making a tantrum.

From his place where he knelt on the floor, his eyes met mine, and I don't know why suddenly I felt a shudder running down my spine.

"Sweetheart, you know we were working, weren't we?"

That condescending tone escaping Spencer's lips? It is something unexpected. But why does it make me kind of nervous? It's a type of nervousness that gives me butterflies in my stomach.

"I know! But- but then in the jet. And you left."

Why am I babbling? Since when did Spencer have looked at me with those piercing eyes?

He stands and offers me a hand to help me to do the same.

"Is my girl upset?" He asks when we are both upright.

'My girl'? That's new. Spencer always calls me by my name, a short version of it, or beautiful, or sweetheart. But thinking about it, 'my girl' doesn't sound bad at all.

"No! I'm not-"

"Oh yes, you are. Look, I wanted to prepare a surprise for you tonight, so I left in a hurry. I was thinking about a bubble bath, dinner, wine, and a movie. I even had the table done with candles ready to lit," he says nonchalantly, and I feel silly for thinking the worst scenarios all week.

"Oh," is the only thing escaping my lips.

"But now, thinking about it, maybe you don't deserve it. Not if you're questioning me like this," Spencer shakes his head in fake - I hope - disappointment.

Okay. Stop right there. What the hell is going on here? Why is Spencer talking like that? About me as 'not deserving' something? What's next? That I'm a naughty girl? - Uhm, I wonder how it could be hearing those words from his lips.-

"What? Why I-"

"Come here," he requests as now he is the one who sits at the edge of the bed and pats the spot in his lap. It doesn't sound too commanding, but sure as hell, I don't need anything more to comply. I need to know where this is heading.

As I'm at Spencer's reach, he pulls me by my wrist to land on his lap while his other hand cradles my face.

"Tell me, uh? Why are you upset?"

His voice drips like honey, and I start to feel hot here.

"I- I don't know. I just missed you, I guess."

"You guess?" He arches a questioning eyebrow.

"Yes. I mean, I do know. I have missed you," I confess, defeated. Oh yeah, now I'm the needy one.

"It helps if I say I have missed you, too?" he says, caressing my cheek tenderly with his knuckles. "I have seen you tense all week; that's why I thought I could do something special for you tonight."

I close my eyes, and for the first time tonight, I let myself enjoy Spencer's embrace.

I exhale a heavy breath as I get lost in his arms.

When I open my eyes, Spencer's are fixed on mine. But his look is not as sweet or reverent as it usually is when we are like this. No, this one is dark and raw. His pupils are fully dilated, and I feel like the breath leaves my lungs.

"Spencer-" I barely mumble.

"I know," he whispers, moving one hand to cradle my neck and bring my lips to his.

Oh God, what I have been craving for days is finally happening, and I can't stress enough how happy I am.

The kiss starts slow and sensual. But not far from that, it gets needy and messy, charged with all the pent-up emotions from the past days. If I had any doubt about Spencer's distance in the last week, this kiss quickly eased my anxiety.

My fingers go to undo the buttons of his button-up, but Spencer stops me with one of his hands, grabbing both of my wrists.

Why didn't I notice before how big and strong his hands are compared to mine? I mean, I always admired his long and deftly fingers, but this? Wow. It's new territory.

"But I want to touch you," I pout when he keeps hold of my wrists in his hand. The cocky bastard raises an eyebrow, contemplating my request.

"You will have to be patient this time and earn it, darling," he says casually, and as my eyes go wide, my jaw goes slack. These words have never come out of Spencer's mouth before. But why am I suddenly starting to feel hotter and more worked up? I blame it on sex abstinence.

"Please, I have missed you so much," I insist, trying to escape his grip to get what I want: undress him. But he doesn't budge, tsking his tongue.

"I already told you. You need to earn it. To my knowledge, only good girls get what they want, and I don't think I'm wrong, do I?"

Jesus Christ! I had never heard Spencer say 'good girl' before, and I'm sure now I'll be addicted to hearing it every chance I get.

"Spencer, please. I'll do anything. I promise. I want to be a good girl. I want to be your good girl."

Spencer's smirk tells me he likes my response, and I'm not at any ounce ashamed of sounding desperate.

He maneuvers me so that I am now on my back on the mattress. I watch his every move intently, and I get lost in his gaze, which screams lust and desire.

He kneels between my spread legs, staring at me intently as his hands move to the edges of my blouse. Just when I think he's going to work on unbuttoning it, he grabs it and rips it open.

A yelp escapes my lips at the raw sound and the view of buttons flying. Spencer doesn't seem fazed by his display of caveman style. And me? I won't mind if he rips all my clothes right now. His hands go to caress my breasts over the fabric of my bra. And then pull it down to free the skin. The cool air quickly stiffens my nipples.

Spencer leans down to suck one of them, twirling the other one with his fingers. A moan escapes my lips at the pleasure his touch is giving me.

"You like that, uh?" he mumbles, still with his mouth sucking and lapping.

"Yes!" I say, as my hands fly to his hair so I can ground myself in something.

After giving enough attention to both of my nipples, he helps me to get rid of the fabric of the ruined blouse and my bra. Now his mouth is sucking a hickey under my jaw, and I feel like I can faint of how aroused I am. One of his hands goes south and stills at the button of my work pants. His breath is hot in my ear.

"I'm going to take care of you. If I do something you don't like, just say it, okay?"

That's a sliver of the Spencer I know, and I can't even think of something this man can do to me that I wouldn't like.

"Okay," I manage to blurt when his fingers work on my pants, leaving me clad only in my panties in a matter of seconds.

Under his intense gaze, I feel exposed, but I also feel safe. There is no place where I would rather be right now.

"You're gorgeous. You know that?" Spencer says, trailing feather touches on my skin aflame with desire. "You don't know what you do to me, do you? I barely can control myself," he continues his praises, thumbs toying with the waistband of my panties.

I'm about to combust.

"Spencer, please."

"What is it, my girl?" he asks, kissing my neck as his fingers slide down my legs, removing the soaked fabric that used to cover my most intimate part.

"I - I need more."

"Are you already desperate for me?"

I can feel how his fingers trace soft patterns in the skin between my thighs, explicitly avoiding the spot where I need him the most.

"Yes! I am. I - I can't-"

I don't even care if I sound coherent at this point. I'm already so turned on and desperate that I can't be bothered by my lack of speech. Spencer still doesn't budge, though.

"I know you want to beg. And I know you can do better than that."

Oh God. I don't know how Spencer's words manage to make me more aroused, but they do.

"I need you," I croak, eyes pleading him to take me. I can feel his fingers ghosting my throbbing clit.

"I need you, sir. Please. You can use me whatever you want, but please, touch me!"

What the fuck? I just called Spencer' sir' and offered my body explicitly to him to use. And the bastard doesn't even flinch? Who is this guy in full control, and who am I acting like a pathetic submissive?

I don't have the answers, but honestly, I don't care. Did he want me to beg? If this isn't begging, I don't know what it is.

"I know you do, baby. Do you think I didn't notice how needy you have been all week? How have you tried to get my attention all these days?" Spencer's voice drops almost two octaves as his finger finally starts rubbing circles on my clit.

Just feeling his touch makes me whimper pathetically.

His lips ghost in my ear, and I can feel his breath heating the spot before his teeth nibble my earlobe.

A mewl leaves my mouth, and if I wasn't soaked before - which I was - now I'm dripping.

"Tell me, this is what you wanted?" His voice is commanding but feels like honey leaking on my body.

"Yes! Please, don't stop."

His movements are deliberate and precise, and when he buries a finger into my core, I can feel the coil in the pit of my lower belly beginning to form. My moans increase in number and volume.

"So needy, my sweet girl. Like that? That's how you want me to touch you?" Spencer coo as he watches me tremble under his touch, adding a new finger to fuck me.

His ministrations continue, but his free hand moves slowly from my cheek down to my neck, caressing the exposed skin with his thumb.

"Or maybe you want me to touch you like this?"

A mewl escapes my lips when he poses his open palm over my throat, not squeezing but seizing how much of my neck he would be able to cover with his huge hand.

"Yes! Please, do it. Please Spencer," I babble, feeling my orgasm closer and closer. And he complies. Applying the minimal pressure in my throat is enough to highlight all of my senses. That, plus the way his ring and middle finger pound in and out of me and his thumb toy with my clit at the same time, sends me to the edge.

"Spencer!" I scream as my climax washes over me.

I don't remember having an orgasm like this in a long time. My vision blurs and I feel like I'm floating on a cloud of pleasure that I don't want to come down from. I can hear Spencer's encouraging words in the distance as he helps me ride my orgasm.

"That's it, my girl. You did so good for me. See how good I can make you feel?"

With hooded eyes, I see Spencer sucking clean the fingers that were fucking me seconds ago.

"You taste amazing. I'll never get tired of it," Spencer says, with a satisfied grin on his face.

Still dizzy, I gesture for him to come closer. When he does, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him in for the most passionate kiss my current post-orgasmic state will allow. I can taste myself on his tongue, and it is like my sex drive reminds me I want more. I need more.

"Please, fuck me," I mumble between kisses, and I can feel the smirk forming on his lips.

"I just did that," he states when we part from the kiss. "Are you being ungrateful?" Is he joking? I hope he does, but I won't take the chance of not having his dick in me tonight.

"No, baby. I'm thankful for the way you have touched me tonight, but I want you to feel good, too."

Spencer looks at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Is that so? Are you willing to do what I want to make me feel good? It's not only for your benefict?"

"Yes! Whatever you want. I'm yours. Take me the way you want to do it. Whatever you want to give me."

I don't know at what moment I became this kind of submissive, but if I have to beg again to have Spencer inside me, I will do it without complaining. And considering he's still fully clothed, I don't know what kind of plan he has right now.

"On your elbows and knees."

It's simple, and the moment the words leave his mouth, I move quickly to obey.

Unfortunately, from this position, I can't see Spencer, but I can hear him undressing. When I listen to him undoing his belt buckle, I have to do everything in my power not to rub my thighs together in search of some friction. And Spencer notices.

"I can bet you're dripping again. Don't you?"

The anticipation is killing me. When I feel the mattress dip with Spencer's weight, I can't stop the mewl that leaves my lips. It doesn't help when he presses his body to mine, and I can feel his hard cock pressing my ass.

"Can you feel what you do to me? I want to fuck you so bad. I want to ruin this pussy." Spencer's voice is husky and low, almost predatory, and I can't wait to feel him.

While we've used dirty talk before, I think this is the first time I can feel it coming naturally from Spencer. I'm usually the one with the filthy mouth.

When I feel his tip teasing my entrance, I instinctively push my ass back, gaining a laugh from Spencer.

"Be patient, once inside there is no coming back." Before I can say anything in reply, I feel him push his cock between my folds, and the stretching is painfully delicious.

"Oh, fuck!" I yelp as I hear Spencer hissing when he bottoms it out. He is still there, grabbing my hips to keep me from moving.

"So warm. So tight. Made for me," he mumbles, leaning to kiss my shoulder blades.

"Just for you, it was made for you," I agree, in a new state of pleasure and urging him to move. Spencer pulls back almost completely, only to thrust hard again, setting a slow but deep pace.

"That's my girl, taking everything I give her. You wanted this, didn't you? I know you do. Fuck! So good for me."

Another thing I'm not used to is Spencer being a talker during sex. I mean, yeah, he's very vocal, moaning, whining, cursing, and so am I, but his words are now taking me there faster than I expected.

"Spencer, yes! Don't stop, please!"

"I won't, baby, I won't. Not when this pussy tighen me like this."

His pace quickens, and in the room, you can only hear the sinful sounds of skin hitting skin, our moans, and the dirty words escaping Spencer's mouth.

"Spencer, please, harder," I beg to him. I don't know why, but I want to go to my limit, and I trust Spencer. I need it. He's quick to deliver, and with every thrust, I'm entering into a new space of ecstasy.

He is pounding me harder, and my broken moans are testimony to the brutal pace he leads. I can feel him hitting in all the right places.

"Like that?" He asks, panting in my ear.

"Y-yes."

"I can't hear you, darling," the bastard demands, not faltering his thrusts.

"Yes! Fuck, yes! Like that! Oh, fuck-"

My voice cracks when I feel a sharp smack in my ass.

And I can't stress enough how good it feels and how it helps the ball forming in my lower belly to grow.

"What a sight. You should see how my fingers are red imprinted on your skin," Spencer says, amazed with his doing, not ever slowing his thrusts, and I can feel closer to a new earth-shattering orgasm.

"We need to even the score, right baby?" I can't even catch what he's talking about when I feel a new smack in my other ass-cheek. And then I lose it. I'm teetering to my end, and I need Spencer to fall with me.

"Spencer, I'm so close. Please, I need-"

"Are you going to come? That's what you're trying to tell me?"

"Yes! I need to cum, please-"

"I'm right there with you, my girl. Come on, cum on my cock. Show me how you fall apart because of me."

And I did. My orgasm crashes me like a freight train, screaming Spencer's name once and again until my throat goes dry. He keeps his pace, chasing his own end, and after three deep thrusts, he stills, and I feel him spilling inside of me, grunting as he does so. The feeling almost makes me cum again.

We stay in that position for a few moments, him inside me and trying to catch our breath. I feel like I'm out of this world, savoring the post-orgasmic euphoria of the best sex of my life.

Spencer pulls out, and I hiss at the loss of him. Carefully, he helps me turn over and lie down to rest my back on the mattress. I close my eyes, regulating my breathing, content and completely satisfied.

"Are you okay?" Spencer asks me, but I'm still lost in the haze of pleasure. I can barely acknowledge the moment he goes to the bathroom to bring a warm cloth to clean me up.

"Uh? Yeah. Amazing." My words escape before I can process them, but I'm not lying. And I can feel the tons of endorphins running in my brain right now.

"Are you sure?" Spencer checks again. And because I'm more alert now, I can see his worried eyes.

A tired smile forms on my lips as I turn to the side and bring a hand to his cheek.

This man just has fucked me senseless, and now he sees me with those panicked eyes as if he had broken me. And maybe he did, but in the best way possible.

"I'm fine, Spencer. I'm more than fine, actually. That was something else," I confess, caressing his jaw. He lets out a breath of relief, and his cheeks turn a shade of pink.

"So you liked it?"

"Liked it? Did you just forget how I was screaming your name just minutes ago?" A satisfied chuckle escapes Spencer's lips. "But I need to know something," I prompt, propping myself on one elbow to have a better view of Spencer's face.

"What is it?"

"Where did this idea come from? It's not like you woke up one day and said, 'Next time, I'm going to choke her and spank her,' right?"

"Well, yeah. It wasn't that kind of spontaneous idea, even though I have thought about it before," Spencer looks at me sheepishly.

"Yeah? Well, then?"

"I heard you. Talking with the girls the other day at the BAU's kitchen." I narrow my eyes, trying to pinpoint the exact moment, and when recognition washes over me, my entire face flushes.

"Oh, God."

"I know I did wrong. It wasn't a conversation for me to hear, but you were talking about your mystery man, and I - I don't know, curiosity got the best of me."

Spencer looks apologetic, and I feel kind of embarrassed right now. It's funny for two people that minutes ago were fucking like there is no tomorrow.

"Don't apologize. It's my fault for spilling those kind of things in the office kitchen." Wait a minute. "From what part you heard?" Spencer purses his lips in thought.

"The part when you admitted seeing someone."

"So you heard when I said I was happy with our sex life, right?" He nods. "Why did you feel compelled to try something different, then? I'm not complaining at all, but I don't want you to feel obligated to do something because of me."

Spencer shakes his head. "I don't feel obligated. I wanted to. But can I ask why you didn't tell me what you liked before?"

That's a valid question, and I don't want to make him feel like I don't trust him because it is not like that.

"It's just- I mean, I love what we have. And I'm falling for you even more each day. I don't want to lose that, and I thought maybe I would have made you uncomfortable saying those things. I didn't want that."

Spencer's eyes glisten with warm understanding. How could I have doubted that he would comprehend? One of his hands goes to push back a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

"I love what we have, too. And you won't lose this or me if you share those things with me. I know I'm not the best example of a sharing person, but I'm learning to do that with you. And I want you to be happy and satisfied in this relationship."

"I really am. Seriously!" I quickly reply. God forbid Spencer from thinking I'm not happy and satisfied because it's far from the truth.

"And I'm happy to hear that. But there is no harm in experiencing new things, right?" He says, caressing my cheek.

"You really mean it?" Spencer nods and chuckles.

"It's not an altruistic offer, you know? I pretty much enjoyed what we did tonight." Only remembering what we did minutes ago brings a wide grin to my face.

"Sure you did. Okay. We can keep trying things. One condition, though."

"Name it," Spencer states, opening his arm for me to scoot closer to his side, which I happily do.

"I want you to choose the next kink to explore," I request, glancing up at him to gauge his reaction.

With narrowed eyes, Spencer is contemplating his answer. After a few seconds, his lips turn into a mischievous smirk, and he looks back at me.

"Have you heard about temperature play?" he asks, and I immediately bit my lower lip in excitement.

What can I say? This man is full of surprises, and I'm the lucky one who will experience all of them. I can't wait.

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

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers

[incognit0slut]

Hypothetically

Chronically single, you suggest a pact with your best friend to start a family together when you turn forty.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x bau fem reader

Category: fluff/comfort

Warnings: marriage and baby talk, reader is insecure because she feels left out

A/n: This is my entry for the kid fic challenge by @imagining-in-the-margins! This was like a breath of fresh air from all the smut I’ve been writing

"Do you want to have a baby with me?"

The scalding coffee burned his tongue as your question lingered in the air. Spencer cleared his throat awkwardly and patted his chest, his eyes drifting towards you. "Uh... what?"

"Hypothetically," you replied, the tap of your pen echoing against the round table between you. "It's like a pact. If we're both still single in the future, we get married to one another and, well, start a family together."

Spencer felt the clamminess of his palms as he set his mug down, trying to steady himself. He considered you as one of the closest people in his life, if not his best friend, and he was accustomed to your random questions, but this sudden topic of conversation seemed to strike a nerve.

"Where..." he began, wiping his palm along his pants. "...where is this coming from?"

You shrugged casually, the tapping of your pen momentarily ceasing. "Just a thought. I mean, we're both at that age where these things start to cross our minds, right?"

Spencer swallowed, trying to push down the unease rising in his chest. "Yeah, I guess so," he muttered, but as he studied you, he noticed the tension in your shoulders. "Are you okay?"

Your gaze flickered away for a moment before you sighed, slumping against your chair.

"I have a wedding coming up this weekend." Spencer frowned, not understanding what you were trying to say. You continued, "And another one next week, and guess what? Two of my cousins are getting married next month."

"What does that have to do with...?" His voice trailed off as realization dawned on him. "Ah, I see."

But you weren't finished. Somehow, the thoughts that had lingered in your mind for the past few days spilled out right then and there, in the middle of broad daylight when you were supposed to be focusing on the case you were working on.

"And a close friend I went to high school with just gave birth while another friend from college announced she's two months pregnant. And look at me," you exclaimed, your arms flying around. "No wedding. No pregnancy. Spencer, I don't even have a boyfriend, heck, I forgot what it's like to go out on a date!"

He watched as your brow furrowed into a frown, and although your demeanor was all over the place, he couldn't help but notice how you still managed to look pretty.

"Spence?" You asked, nudging his leg with your foot under the table. "Are you listening to me?"

He blinked, momentarily pulled from his thoughts by your voice. "Sorry," he replied. "I'm listening."

You gave him a skeptical look, but the tension in your shoulders seemed to ease slightly as you leaned back in your chair.

"I just... I don't know, I feel like I'm left behind." You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "I mean, I'm happy for my friends and all, but sometimes it feels like everyone's moving forward but me. Like I'm stuck in this... this rut."

Spencer wasn't sure how to respond. On one hand, he knew how it felt to want something that seemed out of reach, but on the other hand, he felt like it wasn't his place to offer advice when he wasn't even sure what the future held for him.

"I get it," he finally said, trying to gather his thoughts. The least he could do was try to offer some comfort. "But just because you haven't reached those milestones yet doesn't mean you won't get there eventually."

"But what if it doesn't happen? What if I'm still all alone and nobody loves me when I'm gray and old?"

He frowned at you. "I'd still love you when you're gray and old."

"Platonically. You love me as much as you love JJ. Or Emily. Or Penny, or even Morgan." You leaned over the table. "I want to be loved passionately by someone who is head over heels for me, who can't imagine a life without me. I want to feel that kind of happiness."

His frown deepened. "I don't think you should find happiness in another person."

"You're missing the point," you groaned, crossing your arms. "I'm not saying I want to depend on someone else for my happiness. But is it too much to ask for someone to share it with? To feel like I'm someone's everything and not just another friend in the group?"

His expression softened as he listened, a sense of familiarity washing over him. He remembered feeling the same thing once, or maybe more than once; he wasn't sure. He had lost count of the times he felt his life was falling short.

But he realized the more he thought about the why—why was he so different? why couldn't he find love?—the more he felt worthless, and he hated that. So what was the best thing he did to ignore those thoughts?

Bury himself in work, because to him, pushing those feelings aside was easier than confronting them. But now, as he looked at you, it felt like he was seeing his own reflection and your words hit him harder than he expected.

"No," he quietly agreed. "It's not too much to ask for."

"I guess what I'm trying to say is... I'm tired of waiting for life to happen to me." Your gaze slowly met his. "So I came up with a plan."

His throat felt dry as he recalled how this conversation started in the first place. "The... baby plan?"

You nodded enthusiastically, sliding into the seat next to him.

"Think about it. If we're both still single when we're..." You paused, furrowing your brow as you did a quick calculation. "Forty? Yeah, let's say we're both still single when we're forty, with no partners, or like, no friends with benefits?"

You shook your head.

“Just... with no one in our lives—we get married. You and me."

He blinked, trying to process your proposal. It was unexpected, to say the least, but there was a strange logic to it that he couldn't quite shake. The idea of marrying his best friend as a backup plan was both absurd and oddly comforting.

"But what about... love?" he asked cautiously. "Wasn't that what you wanted?"

You paused, considering his question before responding. "I mean, I don't think it's impossible," you said, leaning back in your seat. "Haven't you ever heard of the saying, 'Marry your best friend'?"

His gaze lingered on you, his heart beating hard against his chest. "You're saying that we can fall in love?"

Your eyes met his, and a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "Who knows?" you replied softly. "Stranger things have happened."

Spencer shouldn't entertain the possibility. After all, who knew what could happen in the future? It seemed like an absurd thought, but as he stared at you, it was hard not to imagine a life with you as his wife.

He imagined you in a white dress, walking down the aisle towards him with a radiant smile on your face. He pictured you both in the house you had just bought, dancing joyfully around the empty rooms as you unpacked boxes together.

Then thoughts of you being pregnant with his child—or maybe even children—filled his mind, and he envisioned a future where your kids would run around in the backyard with a pet dog trailing behind.

And then he considered the prospect of growing old with you, watching as your children eventually started families of their own while you found comfort in each other's company. All of these possibilities didn't seem so bad, because if anyone could understand him on a deep level, it was definitely you.

Maybe this crazy plan of yours wasn't so crazy after all.

"I... I guess it's not impossible," he finally admitted. Then, not wanting to seem too eager, he added, "Hypothetically speaking."

"Of course," you replied with a smile. "Hypothetically speaking."

Suddenly feeling flustered by your gaze, Spencer looked away and focused on his coffee, bringing the mug to his lips. Then you heard laughter and footsteps drawing closer, and soon Derek and Emily entered the room. Their eyes immediately landed on the two of you, sitting closely together at the table.

"What are you children whispering about?" Derek's voice interrupted, his eyebrows raised curiously as he glanced between you.

You didn't miss a beat. “Spencer and I are having a baby together."

Spencer choked on his coffee, his eyes widening in shock as he coughed and sputtered. You quickly moved to pat his back.

"Well, we're gonna get married first, right, Spence?" you added with a grin, glancing at him expectantly.

Spencer finally managed to regain his composure, clearing his throat awkwardly as he shot you a sideways glance. "Um, yeah, of course," he stammered, his cheeks still tinged with embarrassment. "Hypothetically."

Derek and Emily exchanged bemused glances, a silent conversation passing between them. Emily's curiosity seemed to win out as she lifted a hand, turning her attention back to you. "Care to explain?"

"We were discussing our backup plan."

"Backup plan?" Derek echoed. 

"Yeah," you replied with a nod. "In case neither of us finds the right person by the time we're, oh, I don't know, forty or so, we figured we'd marry each other and start a family."

Derek placed a hand over his chest, feigning hurt. "And you chose Pretty Boy over me?"

"I'm not going to compete with all your lady friends," you shot back, rising from your seat. "Come on, Spence, let's grab some lunch and brainstorm baby names."

He stood up, giving you a pointed look.

"Or do you want to discuss how we'd make those babies in the future?"

"Well, I was thinking of Amelia if it's a girl..."

You grinned, linking your arm through his before guiding him towards the door. Derek and Emily observed the natural closeness between you two, how you were practically clinging to him and how he seemed to be comfortable with it.

Derek turned to Emily as you disappeared down the hallway. "Do you think they'd actually get married when they hit forty?"

Emily shook her head. "Nope," she replied confidently. "I give it a year until he's already down on one knee."

He laughed, nodding in agreement. With the way Spencer's gaze lingered on you with unmistakable affection, it seemed like it was only a matter of time.

[inkedinshadows]

Nights and Days

Pairing: Azriel × reader

Summary: Azriel and Y/N are on a mission in Illyria, but as they move from one camp to another, they’re caught in a blizzard and are forced to find shelter in the nearest inn. Thanks to the shadowsinger, there's only one bed.

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, just a sprinkle of shadow play, language, lots of witty banter

Word count: 6.3k

A/N: this is my first time writing smut, so I'd really appreciate it if you let me know what you think 🥺

Groups of rebels had begun to appear all over Illyria, claiming that Rhys was not a good High Lord, that a low-born bastard was not suited to be their general, and that training their women was nothing more than a waste of time.

After two weeks of diplomacy that led to absolutely nothing, Rhys had dispatched the Inner Circle to deal with the rebels. Mor and Amren had stayed in Velaris to make sure nothing happened, but the others had been sent out to Illyria. And Y/N had been paired up with Azriel.

They were flying from one war camp to the next—Y/N trying to focus on anything other than Azriel holding her close as he flew—when it started to snow.

“Is it safe to keep going?” she asked him, glancing at his beautiful wings flapping behind him.

“Would you rather I land now? In the middle of nowhere?” Azriel looked down at her with a little smirk on his face. “Give me some credit, Y/N. I can handle a little snow.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot you’re a big, tough Illyrian warrior. My bad.”

He didn't answer, but she didn't need to look at him to know he was still smirking. That annoyingly attractive smirk always made her want to kiss him. She focused on the forest below, on anything other than his lips and how close they’d be if she would just turn her head his way.

They flew in silence for just a few more minutes before the snow began to fall more heavily. Y/N simply looked at Azriel with a raised eyebrow, not bothering to use words.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” he said when he noticed her expression, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. “Camp is not that far. We can still make it.”

“Azriel, did you wake up this morning and just decided to be stupid?” She pointed at the grey sky above them, where more clouds were gathering with the promise of more snow to come. “You see that, right? It’s already late and we both know it’ll only get worse. We won’t reach the next camp before it turns into a blizzard. Besides, I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

His only answer was a low chuckle. “Oh, yeah? The poor princess is freezing her little ass off?”

She smacked him on the shoulder. “My ass is anything but little, shadowsinger. Shouldn’t you find us a shelter or something, instead of making fun of me?”

“Said the one who just called me stupid,” he pointed out. He lifted a brow, flashing her another one of those smirks. “Maybe you should apologize for that, and I might think about landing somewhere.”

She cocked her head, unsure if he was messing around or not. “I refuse to apologize for telling the truth. And you’d better land soon, or I’ll kick your ass when you do.”

Azriel’s laugh echoed in her ears, and it took all her focus not to smile just at that sound she so rarely got to hear. “As if you could actually kick my ass.”

If her arms hadn’t been wrapped around his neck, she would have crossed them over her chest. Or maybe she would have used them to strangle him, if only it wouldn't mean they'd fall out of the sky. Eventually, she settled to roll her eyes again. “Azriel, I’m being serious.”

Though she enjoyed their usual banter and she knew as well as everyone that she could never kick his ass, she hadn’t lied. Even with her Illyrian leathers, she was starting to freeze out there in the snow, and there was no way they would reach their destination without being caught in a full-blown blizzard.

“Relax. Despite what you think, Y/N, I’m not stupid.” He gestured to something below them just as she opened her mouth to protest. “It’s an inn. You would have noticed it already, if only you hadn’t been so busy complaining.”

“Shut up,” she grumbled, squinting to see through the trees and the snow. But as Azriel glided down, she finally saw it. It was a rather large building for an inn in the middle of the woods—many Illyrians probably passed through it—so there was a high chance of finding a couple of rooms to spend the night in.

Azriel landed and gently set her on the ground. Together, they headed for the door and were welcomed inside by the warmth of a fire in the corner of the room. She shook the snow off her hair as she took in their surroundings—a few tables full of Illyrian warriors, most of them drinking and laughing quite loudly.

“We ran out of double rooms.” The innkeeper looked at them as they approached, apparently too bored to even bother with greetings. “But we’ve still got a few single ones.”

Before she could tell him that two rooms were perfect, Azriel was already answering. “We need only one, actually.”

Next thing she knew, he had grabbed her hand and was leading her up the stairs, a key now clutched in his fingers. She waited for the door to close behind them before she turned to him with a frown. “What the hell was that? Why only one room?”

Azriel tossed his pack on the floor and replied as if the answer was obvious. “The hall was packed with drunk Illyrians.”

“So?”

He looked at her then, and she couldn’t quite understand what she saw in his eyes. Was it concern? Or frustration because she still didn’t realize something he thought was so simple?

“I’m not letting you sleep in another room alone, when a bunch of drunk Illyrians have just seen you, probably the only female here, walk in.”

Well, that was not what she expected. But as she thought it over, she couldn’t deny he had a point. She was able to hold her own in a fight, just not against fully trained warriors, and she didn't want to take any risk, especially when it was just one night.

Not knowing what to answer, she looked around the room, which consisted of only one bed and a small dresser—lame and boring, but it would do. Except for the one single bed.

She watched as Azriel sat on an old rug, the only decoration there was. “And what are you doing now, exactly?”

He shrugged, with that same expression that seemed to tell her the answer was obvious. “I'll take the floor, you take the bed.”

She almost laughed at that. “You can't sleep on the floor, not with your wings. I'll do it.”

“I'll be fine,” he replied, and extended his wings behind him as if to prove it. “Why would you want to sleep on the floor anyway?”

“Because I don't want you to do it,” she answered matter-of-factly. “Now get your ass off that floor, shadowsinger.”

Azriel did no such thing and instead leaned back against the wall and extended his legs in front of him. Her gaze dropped to his thighs, the muscles shifting with the movement.

“Why would I do that? It's comfortable here.”

She looked up again, her arms crossed over her chest. “It's not and you know it.”

Both of them too stubborn to give in, they glared at each other. She made no move to sit on the bed, and he made no move to get up. They probably could have spent hours like this, but she couldn't stand the idea of Azriel sleeping on a half-consumed rug, even if it meant she'd do it.

“You wouldn't want to face the rebels with a sore body tomorrow, would you?” she tried, hoping it'd make him think straight.

“I've slept on the ground before, I'll be fine. Big, tough Illyrian warrior, remember?” His lips twitched up, and amusement glinted in his hazel eyes. “Just take the bed, Y/N. We have a long day ahead of us.”

“Which is exactly why you should sleep on the bed, Az,” she snapped before taking a deep breath and speaking more calmly. “I'm just the backup. It doesn't matter if I'm sore.”

“It matters to me.”

His words hung heavily in the air, and she swallowed, not sure how to react to them or to the fervor in his voice. There was an intensity in his eyes that she’d never seen before and, unable to his gaze any longer, she blinked.

“You’re not going to budge, are you?” she asked with a sigh, her arms falling back to her sides.

“No.” And there it was again, that teasing grin she usually wanted to kiss. Right now, though, she felt more like punching him for his stubbornness. It outmatched even her own. “So I suggest you listen and take the bed. You need some rest.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, and you don't?”

This time, it was his turn to sigh and roll his eyes at her. “Y/N, I’ll be fine. I’ve slept in worse conditions, and it’s only just one night anyway.”

And yet, the thought of him sleeping on that rug while she was all comfortable on the bed didn’t sit right with her. Just like her well-being mattered to him, his mattered to her. Maybe it was because he’d admitted it, or because he’d rather sleep on the floor than let her stay in another room when the place was full of Illyrians. Or maybe she was just trying to find some kind of excuse, but the words were out before she could think better of them.

“Sleep on the bed. With me.”

Azriel’s eyes widened, and she immediately regretted even thinking about it. “I beg your pardon?”

“I mean… it’s just…” she stuttered, her cheeks heating up as she looked away. What a huge mistake she’d just made. Just because he cared about her didn’t mean he’d want to share a bed with her. What was she even thinking? “I know it’s small and there’s not much space, but I just… I thought it’d still be more comfortable than the floor… you know?” Her voice trailed off, and she stared down at her feet.

Deafening silence filled the room, and then Azriel finally spoke, his tone cautious. “And that’s all you were asking?”

She frowned, not sure what else she might have been asking. But she quickly realized what words she had used and how that could potentially sound like something more than an offer to share the bed. Sleep on the bed. With me. Cauldron, she was so stupid. Her face turned an even deeper shade of red. When was the last time she had blushed?

“No, I wasn’t— that’s not what I—” She couldn’t get the words out, and it didn’t help that her mind was now wandering toward certain scenarios that involved the two of them, a bed, and very little clothing. She turned away from him and mumbled, “Whatever.”

“I think this is the first time I've ever seen you speechless.” There was amusement in his voice, and she knew the asshole was smirking once more. “You should watch your word choice if that’s not what you intended to ask.”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry,” she murmured as she reached for her pack, but when she took her nightgown out, she realized there was no place to go to get changed. How was she supposed to change in front of him after such an embarrassing mistake? So instead, she delayed the moment she’d have to do it by trying to explain again. “It wasn’t my intention to imply anything. It came out wrong.”

She could feel his eyes on her as he answered. “I noticed. What was your intention, then?”

The look she gave him was one of annoyance. He knew exactly what her intention was, and he just liked to mess with her. She glared at him for a moment before she replied, “I meant what I said. I don’t want you to sleep on that rug, and you don’t want me to do it either. So, the only other option is that we share the bed.”

“Mh, I see.” His lips tugged up in a self-satisfied grin that just made her want to hit him to see it disappear. Not that she could hit him even if she really wanted to. Azriel would block her blow with little effort. But how could she have ever wanted to kiss him?

“So sleeping next to me is the only option?” he added.

“You know what?” she snapped, gesturing to the rug where he was still sitting like it was the most comfortable place he’d ever been. “I changed my mind. Sleep on the floor. I don’t care.”

He chuckled. Chuckled. Cauldron boil her.

She turned her back on him and, without giving it any second thought, she began undressing. She hadn’t realized how warm the Illyrian leathers were until she shivered as soon as she took them off.

“It seems like you’re cold,” Azriel drawled from behind her.

“I’m not,” she replied. She put on her nightgown and sought refuge under the covers. “Not for long, anyway.”

How was Azriel going to spend the night on a rug, without a blanket? When he didn’t answer, she considered maybe asking him one last time to share the bed. Out of the goodness of her heart, she supposed.

But then Azriel spoke again, amusement clear in his voice. And the goodness of her heart be damned.

“You're cold, aren't you?”

She sighed, wrapping the blanket tighter around her body. “No.”

“Liar.”

“Prick.”

“I'm the prick? You're the one who suggested we should share the bed.”

Y/N resisted the urge to turn on her side and face him. Maybe it was stupid and childish of her, but she kept lying with her back to him. “I don't see how that makes me a prick, Az. Besides, you're the one who made fun of me because of it, which means you're the prick here.”

His voice still carried a sense of playfulness as he answered. “I made fun of you because you stumbled over your words like a fool. It was quite amusing, to be honest.”

Instead of replying, she slid a hand out from under the blanket and flipped him off over her shoulder. As she hid it again and curled up in the bedsheets, Azriel’s soft laugh made her smile despite herself.

She heard some noise and, assuming he was getting changed and ready for the night, she closed her eyes. But her mind was running wild.

Images of his hands on her. Of her hands on him. Their lips touching, first tenderly, then passionately. Their bodies pressed together as pleasure overcame them. All scenarios she had never let herself fully consider before, now evoked by Azriel's misunderstanding of her words. Scenarios she now knew for sure would never happen if the way he'd teased her for even suggesting sharing the bed was any indication.

“Make room for me?”

His voice was so close to her that she started, her head snapping around to find him standing next to the bed. He had taken off his leathers and was now wearing loose pants and a shirt. His wings were tucked in tight behind him—those beautiful wings that she knew were bigger than Cassian's and Rhysand's. She still wasn't sure she should believe Mor about the correlation between an Illyrian's wingspan and other body parts.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you,” he added with a small smile.

“You and your absurdly silent steps,” she grumbled, but she was already moving to the other side of the bed.

Only that there wasn’t exactly an ‘other side’, not when the bed was barely big enough for both of them. As Azriel slipped under the sheets, she found herself with her back pressed against his chest. His familiar scent of night-chilled mist and cedar filled her senses, and his warmth seeped through her, chasing away the remnants of the cold that even the blanket hadn’t yet managed to rid her of.

“Tell me you don’t move a lot when you sleep,” she said as he settled behind her. “Because if you push me off, I’ll make you regret not staying on that rug.”

His laugh skittered down her back. “You always have something to say, don't you?”

“I promise you, the moment there will be nothing to say, I will shut up,” she replied with a chuckle.

Silence fell and Y/N nestled more against his side. She just couldn't help it. Feeling him so close, their bodies pressing together... it was intoxicating, and she wanted to stay like that forever. She hesitated a moment, and then she decided that she might as well do it: grabbing his arm, she wrapped it around her waist and laced their fingers together, their intertwined hands resting against her stomach. Azriel tensed behind her, and she thought he might pull away, but he didn’t. Instead, he released a deep breath that tickled the back of her neck.

“I would never let you fall off the bed,” he murmured. His voice was so close to her ear that it almost made her shiver. And as if to show he really meant what he said, Azriel draped his wings around her.

Y/N suddenly had a lump in her throat. Being enveloped in his wings was somehow more intimate than lying so close to each other. “Glad to hear it,” was all she could think about. After a second, she added in a whisper, “And thank you for not letting me sleep alone.”

Azriel’s arm tightened around her waist, his breath warm against her neck. When he spoke, she could tell by his tone alone that he wanted to say more than just, “You're welcome.” She didn't push him though. He'd tell her when and if he decided to.

She closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep, letting the sound of the blizzard outside lull her, but with Azriel holding her it was nearly impossible. Wrapped in his arms and wings, she felt safe and protected. Everything else seemed to disappear until it was just the two of them in their small cocoon.

“Can you turn over?”

Her eyes opened at his question, but she didn't move. To face him would mean being only inches away from him. She didn't trust herself to be that close to him. To his lips.

“Why?”

“Just turn over, Y/N,” he whispered. “Please.”

It was the vulnerability in his voice—the barely audible ‘please’—that had her giving in. She had never heard him say it before, not like that.

But as she complied, her face was even closer to his than she'd anticipated. Their noses were almost touching, and she made a point not to let her gaze drop to his lips.

Azriel didn't say anything. They stared into each other's eyes for a few moments or maybe an hour—Y/N didn't know. The one thing she knew was that her heart was beating faster in her chest, and it only got worse when he brushed her cheek, his touch gentle and soft. She smiled, and the movement caused his gaze to dip to her mouth. She waited for him to look up again, but he didn't.

Her smile turned into a little smirk. “Are you just going to stare at my lips all night, or do you plan to actually do something about it?”

Azriel looked at her again, and though he tried to look annoyed, she could see a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Why do you always have to make such quick-witted comments?”

“Shut up and kiss me,” she replied before she even knew what she was saying. She didn't regret it though, because he did it.

And the world shrank till there was just Azriel.

His lips were soft against hers, warm and inviting. His hand moved from her cheek to the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her closer. She melted against him, opening up for his tongue to slip inside, tasting her slowly, almost reverently. Her heart was beating so fast it might have jumped out of her chest.

She'd wanted this to happen for the longest time, and now that it was real, the leash she'd kept on herself vanished. Every feeling, every emotion she'd stifled for so long, now rushed to the surface like a tidal wave.

What had started as a tender kiss soon turned into something passionate and greedy. She whimpered softly against his lips, and her hands began to make their way down to the hem of his shirt.

“Y/N.” Azriel's whisper stopped her as she looked into his eyes. She could see her own need reflected there. “Are you sure about this?”

“I don't look sure enough to you?” She raised an eyebrow. “Maybe next time I should just send you a note and—”

Azriel silenced her with another kiss. “You and your sarcastic answers,” he murmured with a smile.

Y/N giggled and cupped his cheek, brushing her thumb against his lips. “I mean it, Az,” she said, her tone softer now. “I'm sure about it.”

“Good.” He pulled her flush against him as his hands roamed down her back. “Because if I start, I don't think I could stop.”

“Good,” she repeated before she kissed him again.

Y/N tugged on his shirt, and they parted long enough for her to take it off, though it took a bit of struggle to undo the clasps on his back and free his wings. She'd seen him shirtless before, mostly when he was training—he was a real feast for the eye—but now she got to touch him, to run her hands across his torso and feel him shudder. His mouth descended on her neck in response, leaving a trail of wet kisses while his hands gripped her backside.

“You were right, princess,” he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. “Your ass is definitely not little.”

She chuckled as he kneaded it. “Told you.”

Azriel hummed, planting one last kiss on her neck before he shifted position and Y/N found herself pressed down on the mattress, the shadowsinger now on top of her. As she pulled him closer for their lips to meet yet again, his hands caressed her legs, trailing up her thighs and slipping under her nightgown.

She held her breath as he brushed past her panties, lingering just long enough to make her shiver. He then moved up her body, causing the fabric to rise and reveal her soft flesh.

Y/N broke the kiss, a small sigh leaving her lips when Azriel’s hands reached her breasts. He smiled at the sound, and as their eyes met, his gaze was so full of desire that her core clenched.

She wanted him. She needed him.

Before she could reach between them to push down his pants, Azriel gently stopped her by grabbing her wrists, sensing what her intention was. “Not yet,” he murmured.

She frowned. A slight tug was all it took for him to release her hands, though she didn't try to undress him again. “Why not?”

And there it was again, that smirk. But now, with him on top of her, both of them half naked, she didn't simply want to kiss it. No, she wanted do all the things she'd never let herself consider.

“Because I want to see you first, princess.”

Azriel was already pushing her nightgown up, but as usual, she couldn't keep her mouth shut. “So it's official? You're calling me princess now? You've never done that before.”

He looked down at her with so much desire that it seemed to set her body on fire. “I've never been about to fuck you before,” he answered, his voice low and sultry.

Her thighs clenched together, but before she could come up with a response, Azriel removed her nightgown. Her skin was already so heated she barely felt the bite of the cool air, and it was completely forgotten when he ran his hands all over her body, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“You're so beautiful,” he whispered as he leaned down to take one of her nipples in his warm mouth, a soft moan escaping her as she shivered.

Her fingers tangled in his hair to keep him close, and she arched against him when his tongue flicked out to tease her.

“And you're so responsive,” he murmured. Hooking a scarred finger into the waistband of her panties, he pulled them down her legs. The scent of her arousal wafted through the room as Azriel nudged her legs open and settled in between them.

Y/N was about to tell him to hurry, her need to feel him against and inside her now almost overwhelming. But she couldn’t form the words, not as Azriel pushed his hips against hers and she felt the evidence of his own arousal pressing hard against her wet core.

His hands caressed her sides, her ass, her thighs, and yet he never touched her where she needed it most.

“Azriel…” she complained, eyes locked on him. She moved her hips to grind against his erection, seeking some sort of friction, and she was rewarded by his sharp inhale. But it still wasn't enough.

“Be patient, Y/N.” His mouth descended on her neck again, biting the soft spot where it met her shoulder. “I want to taste you first. I want to worship every inch of you.”

Even though she closed her eyes at his little nips, she shook her head. “Azriel, I appreciate it. I really do. But you have no idea how long I've waited for this.” Her breath hitched when his tongue swirled around her nipple again. “We can leave the worshipping for later. I need you now.”

“You need me, uh?” He kissed her other breast, and she bucked her hips against him once more. “And you've waited a long time for this?”

Y/N looked at him again, her fingers still clutching his hair. She nodded and realized her mistake too late—a new mischievous gleam entered Azriel's hazel eyes.

His lips trailed down her stomach and toward her belly button. Each kiss sent a shiver right to her core. “Then you can wait a little longer.”

She groaned, her patience now at its limit. “Azriel, you—”

A gasp cut her off as he licked a stripe up her dripping folds. She couldn't tell who moaned first when Azriel tasted her once more, his tongue flicking over her clit.

Her fingers tightened in his black curls and her head fell back on the pillow. Azriel's lips closed around her clit and she clamped a hand on her mouth to keep quiet as he gently sucked on it.

His shadows began to slither up her body, their touch cool against her heated skin. Her breathing quickened and she had to hold back a moan when his tongue was replaced by a finger slowly sliding inside her folds.

But it didn't move. Azriel looked up at her and she wished she could somehow capture the picture: his head between her legs, those beautiful hazel eyes focused on her with an almost predatory intent.

“Don't go all quiet on me now, princess,” he murmured against her skin. “I want to hear all your pretty noises.”

A tendril of shadow brushed against her hand, and she removed it from her mouth. “Az, the other rooms—”

He curled his finger to hit that soft, spongy spot inside her that had her see stars, and she couldn't stop the moan that left her lips.

“I don't care if someone hears you.” His voice was a low, almost commanding growl. “Let them hear you. Let them know you're with me.”

She was about to answer, to tell him she wasn't sure she should, but Azriel added a second finger, and she lost all control, another small cry of pleasure slipping out.

Azriel seemed satisfied because his smirk reappeared. “If I had known this is all it took to put a stop on the witty comments, I would have done it a long time ago.”

Y/N wanted to make one of those very witty comments to prove him wrong, to show him she hadn't become helpless just because of how good he made her feel, but his tongue circled her clit again and Mother above, she was helpless.

“Do you want to come, princess?”

Unable to form even a coherent thought, all she could do was nod, her body on the brink of release as his fingers curled once more, drawing a moan from deep in her throat.

“Use your words, Y/N.”

“Yes… yes, please,” she panted.

But instead of keeping going, of driving her over that sweet, craved edge, Azriel placed a kiss to her inner thigh and slowly removed his fingers from her folds. He even moved away from her, standing up at the foot of the bed.

She groaned, pushing herself up on her elbows to glower at him. “Azriel, you get back here right now.”

He only grinned. “Ah, there she is.”

“If you're doing this just because you missed my comments, you should know that I—”

The words died on her tongue as soon as his hands swiftly undid the buttons of his pants. Her eyes followed his every movement as he pushed them down his legs, watching his muscles shift and his wings unfold ever so slightly to keep him balanced.

He wasn't wearing any underwear.

The realization caused her brain to stop working, and the sight of his naked body took her breath away. Maybe the rumors about Illyrian wingspans were true after all.

Her mouth dry, she swallowed before finally speaking again. “Azriel,” she repeated, her voice quivering with barely restrained desire. “Get back here right now.”

For once, he obliged without questioning, his grin wide.

Climbing onto the bed, he crawled up her body until his cock pressed against her entrance, her need for him now through the roof.

Their eyes met, and slowly—too slowly—Azriel pushed in, stretching her inch by delicious inch, both of them releasing a moan when he bottomed out, his hips flush against her.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the sound shooting straight down to her core. “Fuck, Y/N... you feel incredible.”

She had no words to describe how he felt inside her. ‘Incredible’ was an understatement, but her mind was too foggy to think of something else. The only thing she was sure of was that she needed him to move.

“Azriel,” she breathed as she wrapped her legs around him. He shuddered when she accidentally brushed his wings with her toes. “Please, move. Now.”

With his elbows on either side of her head, he leaned down to kiss her, pulling out almost all the way. “I love hearing you beg for it,” he whispered against her lips, and rocked back into her with a quick roll of his hips before she could even think of a response.

He didn’t even try to go slow, instead immediately setting a relentless pace that left her panting, but she didn’t mind. Every choked sound and breathless moan were swallowed by his kiss, their tongues swirling together. Her hands found their way into his hair, around his neck, down his back, and her nails scraped along his warm and slightly sweaty skin while he thrust into her, her hips rising to meet his.

Azriel’s own groans and whimpers were music to the ears, each of them bringing her closer to release. As if he knew her body well enough already, he seemed to sense it too, because his lips left hers to trail down her neck.

“That’s it, princess,” he praised. His clipped voice let her know he was probably trying to hold back his own impending orgasm. “Come for me.”

His shadows flew in the little space between their bodies to tease her clit, drawing a guttural groan from her. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before—cool against her hot skin, a barely-there touch that yet was enough to make her shudder and whine. But it was the uniqueness of it all that sent her toppling over the edge.

A loud cry broke from her as her vision blurred and her body tensed, her nails slightly digging into Azriel’s back while he slowed his thrusts to draw out her pleasure. But he soon resumed his punishing pace, his hips slamming into hers almost frantically, the sound of skin on skin filling the small room as he chased his own release.

She choked out his name right as he stilled, hot spurts of cum filling her, his last few moans muffled when she pulled him in for another desperate kiss.

They were both panting by the time they broke apart, but neither of them tried to move. Azriel still lay buried deep inside her, and simply rested his forehead against hers, a smile on his lips that mirrored her own.

Despite his heavy breaths, his brows raised as he asked playfully, “So was the wait worth it?”

“It was,” she answered with a chuckle. Her hands came up to cup his face, her thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “You certainly know what you’re doing, shadowsinger.”

Wrong words.

“Is that so?” His grin only widened, and he gave another roll of his hips that dragged a groan from the back of her throat.

She slapped him on the shoulder, but her smile matched his. “Smug ass.”

Azriel's soft laugh tickled her cheek as he kissed it. Slowly, he pulled out of her, leaving her with a feeling of emptiness.

Not ready to let him go just yet, she curled up in his arms as soon as he lay down next to her. Azriel immediately embraced her, holding her close to his chest, their legs tangled.

A comfortable silence settled over them as they bathed in the afterglow of sex, interrupted only by their soft breathing and the blizzard still raging outside.

As the minutes passed, Y/N struggled to keep her eyes open, but she had always wanted to trace the swirling lines of Azriel's tattoos, and now she had her chance. Her fingers danced along the Illyrian design, following the pattern from his neck to his arm, then lingering a bit longer on his sculpted pecs and feeling the muscle beneath her fingertips. His heart was beating fast, pounding in his chest.

“Can you promise me something?”

She glanced up at him, his eyes already fixed on her. The corner of her lips twitched upwards. “Depends on what it is.”

Azriel was silent for a long moment before he spoke again with a new seriousness in his tone. “Promise me that we’ll give this a chance. That we’ll give… us a chance.”

Her fingers halted their roaming, her heart skipped a bit, and a part of her whispered that she had heard that wrong, that she had misunderstood. No way he was actually asking her what she thought he was asking her, despite just having had sex.

She had to swallow the lump in her throat to be able to murmur, “Do you mean that?”

Azriel's eyes softened, like he knew she was even more vulnerable now than while they were fucking, and that whether her heart broke or not depended entirely on his answer.

“I’ve waited for this for a long time too, Y/N,” he said gently, cupping her cheeks to look right into her eyes. “I don’t want just this one night with you. I want all the nights you’ll give me.”

Y/N smiled then, so bright it could have lit up the whole room. She wanted to kiss him senseless, to hold him tight and never let go. And nothing was stopping her anymore, she realized, so she did just that.

She showered his face with tiny kisses. Every beautiful inch, from his nose to his jawline, from his eyebrow to his chin. Azriel's arms wrapped around her middle to pull her closer, and she relented her assault only when he chuckled.

Their eyes met again, and she knew there was no turning back now. But she would never turn back now.

“I’ll give you all the nights in the world, Az,” she finally said once the burst of joy subsided. “And the days, too. I'll give you anything you want.”

His smile was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. It was wider than ever before and the urge to touch his small dimples rushed through her—dimples she'd never known he had, but that she'd do anything to see again.

When he kissed her, it was slow yet passionate, gentle yet desperate, their breaths mingling, their hands caressing cheeks and running through hair.

“You're the only thing I want,” Azriel murmured once their lips parted. “Every night and every day. I want only you.”

Those were probably the most beautiful words she'd ever heard. Not even in her dreams did she imagine he would say them. Dwelling on what it would be like to share moments of passion was one thing, but this…

She moved to straddle him, mindful of his wings splayed out beneath him. She wanted to run her fingers down their length, and hopefully, sooner rather than later, she might get to do just that.

“Then I hope you're not too tired, shadowsinger.” She leaned down to trail kisses along his tattoo, but her eyes never left his. “Because you can't say something like that without expecting me to fuck you again.”

His hands tightened their grip on her thighs, her words enough to ignite the fire in him once more. “I'm yours, princess. We have all night.”

“All the nights,” she corrected him with a grin, already grinding on him. “And all the days.”

Maybe they would be facing the rebels with sore bodies, after all.

Tags: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover

(If I accidentally added someone who wanted to be tagged only in part 3 of A Helping Hand and not the general tag list, please let me know and I'll fix it)

[samsno1]

One Hell Of An Agent

Sam Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: After weird deaths start happening and your friend becomes a victim of it, two men appear at your door for questioning and your day turns into the weirdest you've ever lived.

Warnings: SMUT, size kink (if you squint), oral (f. recieving), big d sam (obviously), dean gets forgotten lmao, unprotected sex (wrap it up guys), piv, tit sucking, sam is a sweetheart, pet names (doll, baby, beautiful), a bit of body insecurity but, as i said, sam is a gentleman, reader is shorter and overall smaller then sam, use of y/n, NOT PROOF READ, english isn't my first language (if i forgot anything TELL ME)

Read it on AO3

WC: 6.1k

You can learn how to change the "Y/N" for your actual name here

enjoy your meal babies, mwah mwah

It was supposed to be just another day where you went to work to get pennies in exchange for spending close to 12 hours in front of a computer screen, get back home to drink until you decided you should take a shower and sleep. Then repeat.

You, standing in your living room with a circle of kitchen salt around you and two men who were supposedly FBI agents holding shotguns and the ghost of an old woman trying to kill you, wasn't in your plans.

They both had arrived at your house in suits earlier that day, knocking on your door. You groaned and got up from the couch, leaving your beer bottle settled on the coffee table. Once you opened the door you widened your eyes at the two men standing there.

The taller one greeted himself first. He had a – almost – shoulder length brown hair and beautiful hazel eyes. To say you were shocked at how handsome he looked was an understatement. The shorter one had deep green eyes and short hair, he was pretty too but his partner…

“Hello, I'm Agent Page, this is my partner, Agent Plant” He said, showing you his badge and nodding to Plant, him copying what his partner did.

You furrowed your eyebrows, recognizing the names from the Led Zeppelin band.

“Plant and Page as in…the Led Zeppelin guys?” You questioned and they shared a look. The shorter one stepped foward, giving you a once over, clearly checking you out.

“Just a coincidence Ma'am” He said, smiling at you and you nodded, still a bit skeptical.

You opened the door wider for them both to get in.

“Come in, please. Have a seat” You said, gesturing to the couch and they sat besides each other. Page eyed the beer at the coffee table in front of him and you cringed.

“Sorry, I wasn't expecting the FBI at my door” You chuckled lightly and took the beer bottle to the kitchen in the other room. When you came back, both their eyes were on you and you felt a bit intimidated.

“Well…why are the feds at my house…?” You asked, sitting at the armchair and resting your hands on your lap, fidgeting nervously with your fingers.

Page put his elbows on his knees, his fingers crossing in front of him as he leaned forward to talk closer to you. You took notice of his big frame wondering how someone could be so…wide?

“Miss…”

“Y/N” You filled in the gap.

“Miss Y/N” He said, licking his lower lip with his tongue “We are here to ask about the recent murders around”

“Oh” You said. You knew well about one of the victims, a friend of yours. It had been a little over 2 weeks since her death but you always went with the mantra to keep going no matter what. At the memory of her you felt your throat restrict and you blinked back tears.

Page seemed to notice and put a gentle hand on your knee to comfort you. When you looked up he was smiling slightly and you calmed down.

“We know Beth was your friend and we are sorry for your loss” He said, squeezing your knee “But we'd like to ask you some questions, if you don't mind”

You nodded and looked between the both of them, taking a deep breath.

“Yeah…yeah of course” You said and he nodded, pulling his hand away from you, the warmth still lingering where he had placed it.

“Did you notice any weird behaviors before your friend passed? Like she was distant, cold…?” Plant asked and you made a face trying to remember anything. You recorded a night you two went out

“Five days or so before she died…” You started, turning your head down to stare at your fingers over your lap. “We went to a bar near my house and she kept glancing behind her, nervous, on edge, as if something would jump her at any moment. When I asked her what was wrong she looked at me, terrified, grabbed her things and bolted”

You sighed thinking you should've went with her now that she was gone.

“I tried calling, texting. Nothing. For those five days I didn't hear anything from her then…they called me announcing that she was gone” You started tearing up again and closed your eyes to hold them back.

“She didn't have anyone else, y'know, I should've been there for her, I–” You choked on an inevitable sob and covered your face with your hands. Then you felt the taller man's hand on your knee again, his thumb stroking your leg.

“We are truly sorry, it wasn't your fault” He said, a voice so comforting and calm you felt it in your heart.

You took your hands away from your face and sniffed, letting out a slight chuckle. You felt a bit embarrassed to be crying in front of them both.

“I'm sorry” You said and brushed your hair back with your hand “I think this was it. She was always a very quiet girl but sweet, caring, I couldn't think of anyone that would do this to her”

The men nodded and looked at each other, a silent conversation you weren't a part of. You looked down to see Page's hand still on your knee and you smiled to yourself. What a nice fed.

"Thanks for the information Ma'am" Page said. When they looked back at you, he patted your knee lightly and got up with his partner. You stood up as well to accompany them to the door, them both behind you.

You opened the door and looked at them both going out, your gaze lingering longer on the taller one, looking him up and down.

They turned to you with a tiny card in his hand and gave it to you, your finger brushing against his.

“If you remember anything, give us a call. Thank you for your time” He smiled warmly along with the green eyed Agent.

“Will do, thank you so much” You said, smiling back seeing them walk away to the Impala parked in front of your house.

You kept your gaze locked until they drove away, snapping you out of your daze getting back in your house and locked the door, smiling like an idiot at the image of the handsome guy you just met.

Inside the Impala, Dean kept glancing towards Sam, who had his face buried into the newpaper about the couple murders happening.

“Dude” Dean finally said, a grin on his face. Sam looked up at him and made a questioning face at his side profile.

“What?” He asked

Dean laughed lightly and looked at his brother.

“She was eating you with her eyes” Dean said and at that Sam's full attention was on him, lowering the paper with a confused face.

“Who? Y/N?” He asked and Dean nodded. Sam sighed and rolled his eyes at his brother. “Dean, c'mon” He said.

“I'm serious, the look she gave you when we left, staring you up and down like a feast” Dean laughed mischievously, looking for a couple seconds at Sam's shocked expression. “She's pretty, y'know, if you don't want it, I'll have it”

“Shut up Dean” He said but he couldn't help thinking about your looks towards him and the impulse he felt to comfort you with a hand on your leg when he realized you were upset.

Dean laughed and shook his head at the stubbornness of his brother, driving back to the cheap motel they were staying at.

Your day went by as usual, some couple more beers here, a whiskey there, some movie you had on the TV.

You ended up falling asleep on the couch for a couple hours until about 2AM when you heard a loud thud in your house and your entire body entered fight or flight mode.

You got up and kept your ears trained for any more sounds until you heard your stove, the gas being poured out in your house and the color drained from your face. What the hell?

You went into the kitchen and for sure the smell of the gas hit hard on your nose and you gagged.

Suddenly the door to the kitchen closed behind you and you jumped in shock. Your heart started ringing in your ears and your hands were trembling.

“Hello?! Is anybody there?!” You asked, your voice shaking as you went to the door. Locked. You started to panic, were you crazy? Was this a dream?

There was a noise behind you and you turned, seeing the knife cabinet open and you glued yourself to the door, trying to get the lock open when a kitchen knife started to float up and towards you.

You screamed and banged at the door.

“Help! Someone, please!” You screamed and the knife was plunged in the door, close to your head and your body fell back in the ground, tears rolling down your cheeks when everything stopped.

You slowly got up and tried to open the door. Success. You scrambled out of your kitchen and unlocked the front door, sprinting out of your house terrified.

You remembered the card the Agent gave you. You didn't know if it was okay to call him this late but you just almost died. You thought he could make an exception.

With trembling fingers, you dialed the number on your phone, putting it to your ear. Please pick up, please pick up.

“Hello? Agent Page speaking, who is this?” He said with a gruff voice, he was definitely sleeping and you felt a bit bad for waking him up.

“Agent?” You practically whispered, your voice shaky with fear.

“Y/N?” He recognized your voice and made a confused face, sitting up on the bed. “What's wrong?”

“I– I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have called I–” You spoke fast, nervous. He took notice of that “Something happened” You said simply.

“We are on our way” He said and slipped on his shoes, already on outside clothes. He nudged Dean to wake him up. “Hang in there”

“Okay” You said in a whisper as he turned the call off, biting your thumbnail in order to stay calm in the circumstances.

Dean woke up to see Sam getting his bag ready in a frenze, a worried look in his younger brother's face.

“Y/N called, something happened, she seemed stressed, let's go” He said, throwing Dean his bag, the oldest groaning as he grabbed the keys for the Impala.

As they drove there, Sam couldn't help but get even more stressed the long it took for them to arrive. He wondered if you were okay, if you had gotten hurt, or worse. When they arrived, you were sitting on your porch, legs tucked close to your body as you shivered.

When you heard the noise of the car you got up. The two came out and you were a bit weirded out to see them in normal clothes but relieved nonetheless.

When they got closer you breathed out in relief, the taller of the two coming closer then Plant, grabbing your shoulders and eyeing you up and down, looking for any visible damage.

“Are you hurt? What happened?” He asked and you shook your head at the first question.

“I don't know…If I explain it I'll sound crazy” You said

“Oh, sweetheart, believe me, we know crazy” The green eyed Agent said and you looked at him, the nickname foreign but you brushed it off.

“I was sleeping in my couch when I woke up with a loud bang” You began. “I got up to see that my stove started leaking gas and…when I wnt to the kitchen, the door…It shut behind me, locked” You said, shakily and Page brushed his hand on your shoulder, the same way he had done to your knee earlier “I couldn't get out and a knife started to fucking float, it charged at me, caught the door and then it all just…stopped”

“I was able to leave my house and…call you” She said and looked into his eyes, the comforting gaze seeping into her. “I'm sorry, I know it's late”

“Don't bother, it's fine. Let's try and see how we can help you, okay?” He said

You looked at him, puzzled, tilting your head at him

“You believe me?” You asked and he let out an aired laugh in amusement.

“What if I tell you we aren't truly FBI agents” He said.

“Oh” You widened your eyes and looked between the both of them, shameful smiles on their faces. “Right”

“Get in, we will explain everything we can to you” He said and you nodded getting inside your house.

After a couple minutes you learned that they were actually brothers, the tall one was named Sam and the shorter was Dean. They told you all about what they did, the family business, how real the supernatural was and tried to explain that you experienced something ghost-like.

You were absolutely dumbfounded as they said all that. It was hard to believe that, how is all of it real if you hadn't seen anything your whole life similar to what they explained to you? Just now?

“Okay so…you both are like…the Ghostbusters?” But hotter. You noted, mentally.

“Basically, yeah” Dean said.

You sat there with your hands over your face. You didn't know if you wanted to laugh or cry at the situation.

The brothers walked around with the so called EMFs, machines you learned could sense the presence of ghosts.

You couldn't help but glance at Sam. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, his hair falling around his face and from time to time he bit his lower lip.

You were entranced at how annoyingly handsome he was until loud beeping from Dean's EMF startled you.

Sam whooped his head towards him and they shared silent looks. Sam turned to his bag and got a shotgun out and you widened your eyes at him. He took notice of that.

“They are loaded with rock salt, don't worry” He said and you made a confused face. He smiled at you and your heart skipped a beat. “Let's say…ghosts don't like salt. Salt and iron are their weaknesses” He said and you hummed in acknowledgement getting up and going to your fireplace to get an iron rod.

Sam stared at you as you walked back to him and you shrugged.

“It's iron, you said it could keep them at bay” You said and he nodded.

A loud noise startled all of you, in the kitchen, where Dean was the closest to and he cooked his gun, Sam doing the same and protecting you with his body.

“Stay behind me” He murmured to you and you nodded, iron rod in your hand prepared for any attack.

“Come on you son of a bitch!” Dean said and, as if on cue, the ghost of an old lady appeared in your kitchen and you gasped, recognizing her immediately.

“Mrs. Greene?” You whispered and apparently she heard you because in a moment she was there and in the other she was behind you.

“Y/N, watch out!” Sam yelled in front of you and you turned around, swinging your weapon and making her vanish for a couple of moments.

You were breathing heavily, your ears ringing until Sam snapped you out of your daze, turning you around by grabbing at your arm.

“Are you okay?” He asked, concern laced in his voice as he gave you a once over.

“Yeah, I think” You replied and Dean appeared as quick as possible making a circle of salt around you and Sam stepped out of it, letting your arm go.

“You need to stay there, she can't get you because of the salt” Dean said.

“You know her?” Sam asked and you looked at him, nodding.

“She was Beth's mother. Died in a car accident that…my father caused. Me and Beth bonded through their deaths but I guess her mom didn't really approve of that” You said, smiling sadly to yourself.

“Where is she buried?” Dean questioned.

“The cemetery near the only church in town. About 5 miles from here” You replied and Dean gave Sam a quick nod as he got his bag and gave his brother extra ammunition.

“I'll go do the dirty job, you, protect her, make sure that bitch doesn't kill her” Dean said as he went out the door, shutting it behind him.

You sat on the ground, in the middle of the salt circle, mindlessly playing with the iron rod in your hand. Sam looked down at you. You looked more than upset, understandably.

“Everything is going to be okay” He reassured you and you looked at him with a gentle smile. Until you weren't smiling anymore and instead was looking behind him.

“Sam, behind you!” You said, getting up again and he turned shooting the ghost and she reappeared behind you, outside of the circle.

You turned around, shaking and lifting your weapon at her. She looked down at the salt circle and the creepiest smile you've ever seen opens up in her face, sending shivers down your spine.

Suddenly the windows broke open and a strong gust of wind came in with full force. You covered your head to protect it from the glass until you looked down and the salt circle was broken around you.

Your heart dropped as she started approaching you and Sam shot her again from behind you.

To your dismay, she was behind him again, and before you could warn him about her she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and threw him against a wall.

“Sam!” You screamed and she turned to you again, slowly walking towards your frame and you backed away, the iron rod propped in front of you protectively.

She knocked the rod out of your hand and you looked desperately at it on the ground.

Your back pressed against the wall and you closed your eyes, preparing for your death when she started screaming and you opened your eyes.

She was quite literally burning right in front of you, with her hands reaching for your throat until she was just gone, no burn marks on your ground, weirdly, and her desperation echoed through the house.

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, your heart beating in your ears. You heard a groan and remembered Sam was basically knocked out on the other side of the room.

You rushed to him and kneeled down besides him with a hand on his cheek and the other in one of his knee.

“Sam, are you okay?” You asked as he slowly opened his eyes. When he seemed to retrieve consciousness again he breathed in deeply and scrambled to get up but you held him down by putting a hand on his chest.

“Hey, hey, it's okay, she's…gone, I guess” You said and he focused his eyes on yours when you smiled. You felt your face heat up at the look he was giving you until Dean barged in through the front door, whistling at the mess.

He looked towards both of you on the ground and made a face, holding back a smirk.

“Burned her up…Am I interrupting something?” Dean asked playfully and you felt a tad of embarrassment, helping Sam get up with a grunt.

They started to gather their stuff and you wondered how the hell you were going to clean up your whole house. Glass and salt everywhere, a hole on the wall where Sam was thrown at.

When they were all done you got each a beer. They tried to deny it but you insisted, claiming it was a thank you treat for saving your life.

You finished all your drinks, throwing the bottles away and you walked them to the door, the Impala parked in front of your house. They got out and stood outside as you smiled at them.

“Thank you, again, really, you both saved my life” You said.

“It's nothing, really, we do this everyday” Dean said with a dismissive wave. “I'm going to load the car” Dean said, giving Sam a pat on the back and a look you didn't understand but apparently Sam did, since he gave a deep breath and a practically death glare at his brother, his chest going up and down.

“So…” He started, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

“So?” You nudged, smiling up at him and biting your lower lip. His eyes stared at your mouth and you felt small under his gaze.

“You were amazing back there, you know?” He said, crossing his arms in front of him and smiling. “You knew what to do, few people can do what you did”

He complimented and you looked down, smiling like an idiot. He’s so sweet.

“Oh I just…went by logic I guess, nothing much. You said iron and I reached for iron” You said, fidgeting with your fingers as you looked up again.

“Yeah…” He said, looking from your eyes to your mouth and back up again. You decided to be a bit brave and got into your tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek, holding on his shoulder for support.

When you pulled back he didn't pull away and one of his hands cupped your cheek, looking between your eyes when he leaned into you, his lips against yours in a light kiss.

You responded almost immediately, your hand going to the back of his neck to deepen the kiss and he placed his hands on your waist. You reluctantly pulled away with a hum, dazed by the kiss with your eyes still closed.

When you opened them his eyes were on your face and you felt warm again. He pulled you back in your house and you giggled in surprise when he closed the door, his hand still holding you.

“What about your brother?” You said as he turned his attention back to you, a smirk on his face when he squeezed your waist. He leaned in closer and you held your breath.

“He can wait” He whispered against your lips before kissing you again, this time more intensely then before and you hummed, burying your hand on his hair while the other stroked his chest.

You started taking his jacket off when you stopped and pulled away.

“Is this okay? I mean I'm totally fin–” He cut you off with another mind blowing kiss and you gasped.

He shrugged off his jacket, dropping it to the ground and clasping your face in both his hands.

“Does this answer your question?” He smiled teasingly and you chuckled, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to kiss his lips again and his hands grabbed your hips in response.

He brushed his tongue against your lower lip and you opened your mouth to let him explore it, moaning lowly against his mouth.

He lowered his hands to the back of your thighs, not breaking the kiss, and lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and you yelped in his mouth.

You noted he was big, you just didn't know he was this strong, lifting you in his arms as if you weighed nothing.

He walked to the kitchen and placed you on the counter, his hands going under your shirt and experimenting with his touches on your bare skin.

You whimpered, shivers running through your whole body as his big hands roamed through your burning skin.

You pulled away, your forehead touching his, a whispered “Fuck” coming out of your lips. Your hands went to the hem of your shirt and slowly pulled it over your head, leaving your torso bare besides your bra.

Sam drank you in, his adam apple bobbing when he swallowed and you felt embarrassed under his strong gaze, your hands slowly coming to wrap themselves around your stomach.

He held your wrists gently, pulling them away from you and his hands went up and down your arms.

“Don't hide from me, you're beautiful” He whispered and started to leave kisses down your neck, nibbling and biting where he noticed you liked the best with the noises leaving your mouth.

Your hand wrapped in his hair to pull him back to your lips, his kisses addicting like a drug.

He pulled away again to pull his shirt over his head, revealing his defined torso and your jaw physically dropped at the sight. He had some scars, some pale, old, others a pink tone, more recent but it just made him look even better, showing how much he had lived through. He chuckled at your reaction and settled his hands on your hips again, gently squeezing.

“See something you like?” He teased and you closed your mouth, your hands reaching slowly to touch his bare chest. He gasped at your feather-like touch on his tanned skin and you looked at him again, his eyes dark with desire.

“You're…stunning, like– I knew you were…muscular…from the get go but you're…” You trailed off and he chuckled, a bit embarrassed and leaned down to crash his lips against yours again.

His hands went to your back and unclasped your bra, helping you take it off and toss it on the ground along with the rest of your clothes.

His hands came to the front and grabbed at both your breasts, squeezing them and making you moan into his mouth. His fingers teased at your hardened nipples and you arched into his touch.

His mouth started trailing down towards your neck, your collarbone, until he got to the valley of your breasts and looked up at you. Your mouth was open, eyes hazed and deep breaths were making your chest go up and down. What a sight.

He closed his mouth into one of your nipples and you whined, the warmth of his tongue circling around it making you grasp at his locks with a certain strength that made him groan around your skin. His fingers teased the other breast until he switched sides, feasting on your breasts.

“Sam…” You gasped his name and he hummed in acknowledgement of your plea, pulling away from your breast with a smile. “Please”

He gave your lips a peck and went down your body again, leaving open mouthed kisses down your stomach until he got to the waistband of your jeans and looked at you again, asking for permission and you nodded at him.

His fingers popped open the button of your pants and opened the zipper. You lifted your hips to help him pull the clothing off and he dragged it down your legs slowly, drinking you in.

You felt a shiver run down your spine at his hungry gaze on your frame when his eyes noticed your soaked underwear.

He discarded your pants and ran his hands up your legs, his look never leaving your covered pussy. His hands stopped at your thighs as squeezed the flesh and you closed your legs instinctively.

He looked up at you and pried your legs open with his hands.

“What did I say about hiding from me?” He said, his tone deep and dominant making you swallow a whine as you spread your legs wider and he settled between them with a smirk.

He kissed your covered sex and you let out a low moan, his mouth traveled to your inner thighs, biting and kissing at the flesh, driving you insane.

“Please…” You begged, grabbing at his hair and he hummed.

“So desperate” He said against your skin, grasping your panties and pulling them down. You gasped at the cold air hitting your dripping core and he groaned at the sight.

He cupped your whole cunt with his hand, making your hips buck up into his touch and a low moan left your throat.

“Beautiful” He whispered and gave your thigh one last kiss. “Tell me if it's too much, okay?” He said and your heart melted.

“Okay” You breathed out and he smiled up at you. He took his hand away and you almost frowned when his lips wrapped around your clit and you moaned, bucking your hips against his mouth.

He smirked against you and put one hand over your hips to hold you still as he did wonders against your cunt. His tongue eating you out as if you were his last meal, ripping loud moans from your throat.

“Oh, fuck” You moaned, pulling at his hair “Sam– God” He hummed and groaned against your pussy sending jolts of pleasure through you.

He teased your hole with his finger, slowly entering you and stretching you out, hooking up and rubbing right at that spot and you moaned loudly.

“Jesus, fuck, right there– Shit” A string of curses left your mouth and he grinned proudly, adding another finger to your torture, making you cry out, his name slipping out of your lips.

You felt the knot inside of you tighten, your pussy clenching around his fingers and Sam knew you were about to cum.

“Cum for me, doll” He said and quickened his movements against you and your moans got louder.

“Fuck!” You groaned loudly as you finally came against his lips, your orgasm hitting you like a truck, your eyes closing in bliss, your fingers tightening in Sam's hair.

He helped you ride your orgams until the stimulation got almost painful and you started to try and close your legs.

“T'much, Sam–” You moaned and he pulled away, your juices shining against his face as he got up from his knees and grasped your waist tightly, smashing his lips against you, the foreign taste of yourself lingering on his tongue as he attacked your mouth.

“Taste as sweet as you look” He praises and you smirked.

You glance down at his still covered legs and crotch, the tent in his pants looked almost painful and you bit your lip. He noticed that and took you in his arms again, wrapping your legs around his hips, making your sensitive core grind against his jeans and you whined.

“As much as I'd like to bend you over that table and fuck you senseless” He said, getting closer to your ear and whispering: “I want to fuck you on a bed to see your cockdrunk face when I make you cum”

You shivered, not expecting these words coming out of his mouth and you attacked his neck with kisses and bites.

“My bedroom is down the hall, on the right” You mumbled against his skin, breathless, and he carried you to the room, his hands squeezing and digging in your ass as you continued marking his skin.

He gently placed you on the bed, kissing your lips hungrily and you led one of your hands down to his crotch, palming him through his jeans and he pulled away from your lips to groan, his forehead against yours.

“Fuck me, Sam” You breathed out and he kissed you one last time before standing up and unbuckling his belt and opening his zipper, dropping his pants to the ground and taking off his shoes.

You were staring, eating him with your eyes as he took off his boxers teasingly slow, stepping out of them and looking at your face for a reaction.

Your mouth watered and your pussy clenched around nothing. He was big. You expected him to be large, he was tall after all but you still were very shocked and wondered if you'd be able to take it all.

Sam seemed to notice your worries and grasped your chin to give your lips a comforting kiss. He wasn't cocky but he was aware of his size and knew it could be intimidating.

“We'll go slow, baby, if you want to stop, just say” He assured you and you felt all fuzzy and warm on the inside. It was hard to find men that actually cared and it seemed like you hit the jackpot with Sam. You nodded and he crawled over you, smashing your lips against his again.

He rubbed his cock up and down a couple times and lined it up with your entrance making you whine in anticipation. He slowly pushed into you and you pulled away to let your mouth hang open in a soundless moan.

Sam made sure to distract you from the pain, rubbing your thighs up and down and kissing your neck and collarbones. It took everything inside him to not pound into you. You tightened around him deliciously and he pressed his forehead against your shoulder.

“You feel so fucking good Y/N, God” He whisper-moaned against your ear and you hummed, your nails digging into his shoulders, definetly leaving marks to remind him for a couple days of this encounter.

“I feel so full, it feels so good” You moaned breathy as he was almost all the way inside you, his kisses soothing your hot skin, his fingernails marking your hips as he held back to let you adjust to his size once he was all the way inside.

You felt him in your throat and it took you a couple of moments to let the pain turn into pleasure and Sam was willing to wait as long as you needed.

When you finally stopped feeling the pain of the stretch you wiggled your hips against his cock and grabbed his cheek to give him a messy kiss.

“You can move, please” You said and he pulled back and forth, both of you moaning at the feeling, his dick hitting deeper than you thought was possible.

“Y/N” Sam moans against your shoulder, his strokes inside you making his whole body tremble with the tightness. His hand roams down your body until it reaches your lower stomach. He presses his hand down against your skin and you moan loudly. He grins, his breathing heavy as his hair makes a curtain around his face.

“Oh– fucking God!” You practically scream, your eyes rolling back as your nails scratch at his shoulder. He felt impossibly deeper and he quickened his thrusts, your whole body going limp and your mouth letting out incoherent babbles and moans of his name.

He was panting as he held himself up in his elbows to look at your fucked out face, kissing your cheeks and your lower lip.

“You look so pretty like this” He said against your skin as he kept his thrusts steady and deep. "I told you I wanted to look at your pretty face...when you came undone under me."

You felt your skin tingle, your body trembling and that familiar feeling on the pit of your stomach like a fire lighting up.

"The looks you were giving me..." He groaned against your skin, his hips sttutering as his orgasm came closer "I wanted to make those beautiful eyes roll back the moment I saw you" He admitted, giving your neck a harsh bite, definetly leaving a mark.

“Sam!” You moaned out, your hand tangling itself into his hair. “I'm cumming” You warned and he quickened his pace and your head shot back, exposing your throat to him.

“Cum for me beautiful” He said, leaving a hickey just below your jaw.

You unraveled below him with a loud moan of his name, your heels digging into his ass. A few more thrusts and Sam pulled out, stroking his cock one, two, three times until he came over your stomach, groaning and panting your name.

You looked at his face, sweat sticking some hairs on his face, his eyes closed, mouth agape and his hair a mess thanks to your hands.

You smiled in a daze and traced your fingers over his face and he opened his eyes, catching you already looking back at him. He leaned down and kissed you passionately for a couple seconds until he pulled away and stood up to go to your bathroom.

He came back with a wet towel to clean you up, gentle in your sensitive sex then he left the towel on the bathroom sink and layed down on the bed beside you again, pulling you into his chest and kissing the crown of your head.

You hummed as he wrapped his arms around you, massaging your sore muscles.

“That was…” You said, not finishing. No words were able to describe what you felt.

“Yeah, it was” He confirmed, smiling.

You snuggled into his chest, your hand tracing mindless patterns against his skin. Then you started to chuckle and he looked down at you.

“What?” He said with a hint of a laugh behind his tone.

“Your brother must be pissed” You said between laughs and he started to laugh too, feeling his chest vibrating against your cheek as his hand stroked your upper arm.

“I don't care, this, you, was worth it” He said and you looked up at him with a shy smile, not knowing what else to say.

After a while of silence between the two of you you started to think a bit.

“You're leaving town soon, right?” You asked and he hummed an affirmation. You hid your frown from him. “You're welcome back anytime, you know that, right?"

You said but didn't look at his face when you felt him looking down at you and he squeezed your arm as if to say I know.

You started to fall asleep against his steady breathing, your eyes heavy.

As you were almost sleeping you felt him leave a kiss on your forehead.

“I will” He whispered and you smiled to yourself, letting yourself fall asleep in his embrace.

☆

☆

☆

A/N: Notes and reblogs encourage me to keep writing. Feedback makes those writings better. Thank you for reading. Xoxo

[wileys-russo]

the christmas eve dash II l.williamson

second of my yearly christmas fics and part of the mila universe! the christmas eve dash II l.williamson

"lee? baby can you come here for a sec please!" you called out to your wife, hearing her footsteps change direction and head toward where you were holed up away in your shared home office.

"whats up babe? i'm just about to go pick up the gremlin." leah jingled her keys as she leaned in the doorway with a curious frown, mila at her weekly karate practice.

"christmas checklist!" you tapped your pen against the wad of paper in front of you as leah swallowed the dry witted comment lingering on the tip of her tongue.

"hit me with it." the blonde nodded encouragingly instead, moving into the room as you rattled off the last few remaining tasks on your list, forever having been the organisational mind between you and leah.

"-then you need to go pick up that spa voucher for your mum, i'll get the gift hampers for my cousins. we need to get some chocolate stockings for my nephews, the jersey your brother wanted is ready to be collected from JD-" you read off, leah humming to acknowledge each thing.

"-then we'll do mila's santa sack on christmas eve once she's asleep, or i'll do it." you paused to shoot your wife a pointed look as she winced, having had one whisky too many last year and falling into the christmas tree at three in the morning while the two of you were busy putting out your daughters presents.

"i said i was sorry! she didn't wake up, did she?" leah defended as you clicked your tongue. "didn't she?" you reminded, leah wincing again as she thought back to the two of you falling over yourselves to hide when little footsteps had come thundering down the hall.

"you are so lucky i can think fast dopey." you warned, having managed to commando crawl your way to your room and intercept your daughter from behind as if you'd been asleep there the whole time.

you'd rambled out an excuse about santa being able to turn invisible so he can hide from the police as the four year old questioned over and over why she couldn't go and say hi or open her presents now.

"-and then you got mila the barbie deluxe dream house. have you wrapped it yet? i couldn't find it in the closet with everything else for her." you spun around on your chair and quirked an eyebrow, leah freezing for a second.

"i got the what?" the blonde asked cluelessly as your eyes narrowed, hands moving to grip the arms of your chair as you exhaled slowly. "you got the barbie deluxe dream house with the swing sets, the slide, the elevator and the pool." you started, pushing to stand up.

"aka the only thing our daughter has been talking about for the last three weeks and the only thing she's asked santa for for christmas, leah." you spoke calmly but your wife could immediately pick up on the sharp scent of malice hidden behind your words.

now she needed to think fast.

"oh! that dreamhouse, the bright pink one with the little slide yeah yeah yeah." leah scoffed, smacking her palm against her forehead. "i got it ages ago babe, forgot all about it! you can tick it off your little list." the blonde grinned confidently with a wave of her hand.

"you did?" "well you asked me to, didn't you?" "well where is it?" "its uhh..." leah trailed off, wracking her brain for an answer, your foot tapping impatiently as you stared her down, arms crossed and hip jutted out to the side.

"it's at lia's! it was too big to hide and you know what mila's like." leah chuckled and you hummed. "mm nosy? wonder where she gets that from." you teased, relaxing a little more and leaning in to peck her lips a few times appreciatively.

"well thats a relief, it's sold out country wide. good luck to anyone who was planning on some last minute shopping, that stupid chunk of plastic would be impossible to find!" you chuckled, returning to your seat and your list as leah hid the panic building rapidly in her body.

"but what our little angel wants, she gets." you made a point to tick it off your list with a deep exhale. "mm and i wonder where she gets that from, princess." your wife teased, ducking down and stealing a kiss before you could argue with her.

"well i'm off! might take her for a kick around if she's got loose energy to burn off. bye babe!" leah sung out, practically already halfway out the front door before you could even look up, jumping in shock hearing it slam close after her.

alone in her car leah slumped into her seat, staring blankly ahead and running her hands down her face with a frustrated groan, moving to grab the steering wheel.

"shit!"

~

"-then we learned this one that went HIYA AYA HIYA!" your daughter chanted, punching and kicking at thin air as leah clicked the buckles of her car seat in, just ducking out of the way as little arms and fists began swinging.

"thats really great bubba when we get home you can show me everything, just give me a second to call aunty beth yeah?" leah flashed the girl a smile who shrugged, busying herself practicing her karate as leah shut the door.

"come on come on come on." leah chanted as she clicked call, tapping her foot impatiently as the dial tone rang and rang, right as she was about to hang up and move to her next option finally it clicked through.

"well well miss leah catherine, to what do i owe the ple-" leah didn't even let the poor girl finish before she was jumping in.

"imayhaveforgottentogettheonlypresentmilawantedandifidontgetitbothmydaughterandmywifearegoingtokillmeonchristmasandiamsoabsoloutelyutterlyfucked!" leah rambled out in one breath, beth going silent for a moment.

"come again? in english this time please if you would be so kind." "i may have forgotten to get the only present mila wanted and if i don't get it both my daughter and my wife are going to kill me on christmas and i am so absolutely utterly fucked." leah exhaled shakily, wiggling her fingers at mila through the window who knocked and pulled a face.

"so you've clearly called me to make funeral arrangements then? well i was thinking instead of a euology i could-" "beth come on man! i'm serious here, i need help."

"well that's quite the understatement. but right, whats the plan then captain?"

~

"-baby are you sure you don't need anything?" you asked softly, knelt down by the bed and pushing a few loose hairs out of your wifes face. "nah just some rest babe, i'm so sorry i can't make it." leah croaked out as your lips curled downward into a frown.

"don't be sorry lee, i'm sorry you're feeling so miserable on christmas eve, of course today of all days your migraines come back. " you pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, nails scratching gently at her scalp as your wife sighed.

"get some sleep, i love you." you pecked her lips sweetly before you pushed to stand, hearing little foosteps come thundering down the hall as you did.

"woah! we have speed limits in this household little miss ferrari." you scooped her up before she could launch herself up and onto the bed like you knew she'd planned. "little miss aston martin!" mila frowned and poked at your chest, your wifes little cheeky smile up at you in response having your eyes rolling.

"say bye to mummy but be gentle please mils she's not feeling well. remember?" you set her back down as your daughter nodded. "one for you, one for me and one for your sore head." mila pressed three kisses to leahs cheek who smiled, stretching a hand out to pinch the five year olds cheek fondly.

"thank you bubba, you'll give nanna an extra big kiss for me yeah?" leah warned as mila nodded dutifully, squealing as leahs fingers dug into her side and she grabbed onto your leg hiding behind it.

"get some sleep baby." you chuckled, ducking down to peck her lips again, hearing some enthusiastic gagging sound behind you. "yuck!" your daughter retched as your eyes rolled again. "hey bubba?" leah called out, mila peeking out from where she'd hidden her face behind her hands.

"leah!" you laughed as your wife pulled you in for a sloppy kiss, mila falling to the floor dramatically and covering her face again, pretending to throw up everywhere as you gently smacked your wifes shoulder and she winked.

"come on trouble, lets go let you loose on that poor nursing home."

leah waited patiently in bed until she'd heard the front door shut, and then heard the car engine start, then till she heard it back out of the driveway, and then another five minutes just to be sure.

the two sharp honks in the driveway was all she needed, leaping out of bed already dressed and ready to go, grabbing a beanie and some sunglasses on the way and wrestling on her shoes as she hopped to the front door.

"stop honking you idiot my neighbours!" leah hissed as she hurried down the front steps, beth honking her hello and rolling her eyes at the way the blonde yanked the beanie down her head as if it would disguise her somewhat when she'd come flying out of her own house.

"good mornin to you 007! where we goin first then?" "tommys toy world, and step on it!"

~

"leah man how many more places are we going to be laughed out of? get the kid a samari sword and call it a day, she's into her karate now ain't she?" beth groaned, leah huffing impatiently and taking her hand, yanking her down the travelator mumbling apologies so everyone she pushed past on the way.

"i can't beth! i said i bought it months ago and-" "-and you'll be in the doghouse until next christmas. yeah yeah yeah, need i remind you got yourself into this mess leah? i told you ya memorys bad!" "yes beth i am well aware whose fault this is, which is why i need to get myself out of this mess! for the sake of my child and my marriage!" leah huffed, only letting go of the younger girls hand the moment they stepped into the toy store.

"sorry." beth apologised quickly to an older gentlemen who leah had nearly bowled over in her haste, the man grumbling about basic manners going missing this time of year as he walked off.

this store the ninth one they'd trekked to already this morning beth was well aware of the drill, rolling her eyes and trudging after leah who wasted no time sprinting off to wherever the barbies and accessories were kept.

she grabbed some toys for myle along the way, stopping for a second too long to admire a lego set before a hand grabbed the back of her jumper and violently yanked her away.

"don't you manhandle me williamson!" beth scoffed smacking her friends hands away but hurrying after her none the less. "oh for fuck sakes come on there's gotta be one fucking dream house left in london!" leah swore, eyes scanning the aisle which was assaulting bright pink and made beth wince at the sight.

"so sorry." beth apologised again but this time to to the horrified looking mother dragging away her toddler whose ears were firmly covered, beth sending a weak wave the girls way before she dissapeared.

"can i help you?" a worker appeared seemingly out of nowhere, concern ingrained into his features as leah grunted and grumbled to herself, riffling through the shelves as beth hurried to put back what she took off.

"god i bloody hope so mate." leah groaned, dragging her hands down her face with a stressed exhale as the worker chuckled. "last minute shopping huh?" the man chuckled as beth snickered. "you have no idea." earning her an elbow and a glare from leah.

"what are you after? we did just get a last minute pallet that hasn't been unloaded yet so i can check if its out back, we're about to restock the shelves since we're open until nine tonight for people like yourself." the man smiled kindly as leah perked up and beth snickered again in amusement, her shopping done weeks ago.

"barbie dreamhouse." leah hurried out, the man nodding and punching something into the little black box in his hand. "we have the malibu playhouse, the 60th anniversary edition, kens mojo dojo casa house-" the man read out as leah shook her head.

"no no, the deluxe dreamhouse. with the swingsets and the slide and the pool and-" leah couldn't even finish before it happened, the same response she'd gotten at every single store so far today and then some.

"that? you're looking on christmas eve for that? do you know how many have been sold country wide in the last week let alone the last month? its the toy of the year! not to mention sales have skyrocketed since-" the man laughed as leahs face fell, then very quickly distorted into a scowl.

"yeah brilliant. do you have it or not?" leah interrupted, crossing her arms as the man gave her an incredulous look. "of course not! its been sold out for weeks UK wide, you don't read the news?" the man laughed in disbelief, though his question fell on deaf ears as leah turned heel and stormed off again.

as much as beth tried the stony faced blonde didn't say another word until they were both back in the car. "fuck!" leah swore, smacking her hands against the dashboard and making her friend jump.

"oi! respect the vehicle. its not her fault you left all of this to the last minute!" beth warned, sticking her key in the ignition as leah ignored her and pulled out her phone, exhaling with a small amount of relief as she checked your location and could see you still weren't home.

"right. where to next?" beth sighed deeply, leah slumping back in her seat. "that was the last one." the blonde responded bluntly, beth wincing and whistling quietly under her breath.

"call it a day and head home then? i'll drive slow so you can practice your grovelling and begging for forgiveness." beth shrugged, grinning as leah shot her a dry unimpressed look.

"no, not home." "leah then where-" "it's time to pull out the big guns." "call your wife, explain what happened and take her anger on the chin?"

at that leah scrunched up her face with disgust. "god no." leah shook her head, leaning forward and punching in the address as beth watched on curiously, a puff of amused air leaving her lips as she recognized it right away.

"i've got no choice beth. i've gotta call in the godmother."

~

"-so you lied." alessia cocked an eyebrow, sipping at her tea as leah exhaled heavily. "not lied but-" she fell quiet at the fiercely withering look sent her way by the younger blonde across from her.

"okay yes. i forgot and i lied and i am so so so unbelievably screwed less." leah whined, her own cup of tea left empty on the coffee table as the defender slumped down into the couch burying her face in her hands.

"yes, yes you are." alessia agreed with a nod, leah peeking out with narrowed eyes. "i came here for advice! not for you to agree with me for once." leah mumbed moodily as the striker smiled, sculling her last mouthful of tea with a hum.

"i have a feeling things are about to look up for you lee." was all the girl said, squeezing her knee as she stood, grabbed their empty mugs and headed back to the kitchen.

"how!" leah called after her with confusion, attention grabbed by the sounds of a key in the door, eyes widening at the familiar little thump of feet which followed.

"aunty lessi!" mila squealed, ignoring your shouts after her to take her shoes, coat and scarf off as the five year old came barreling into the kitchen. "hello little marshmallow." alessia grinned, scooping up the small girl and kissing over her face making her giggle.

"i'm puffy!" mila smacked her coat covered chest as you arrived and rolled your eyes with a smile, alessia sitting your daughter down on the counter and helping her to shrug off her many layers as she babbled on and on and on about their day.

"shit! shit shit shit shit." leah whispered in a panic, crouching down and trying to peek over the top of the couch as her mind scrambled to try and think of an escape plan, groaning quietly as she realised that came to a screaming halt when she didn't have a car, beth dropping her off and leaving.

"hi babe." leah sprang up like she'd sat on an electrical wire, coming thumping back to the ground with a grunt, staring up horrified at your scarily calm smile which looked down at her.

"um i can explain! it is not what it looks like." leah tried, running a hand through her hair and stumbling over herself to think of a valid excuse. "save it leah, i knew you'd be here eventually. granted maybe not just yet, you hit the stores faster than i thought!" you shrugged honestly, rounding the couch as leahs mouth formed an o and she pulled herself to stand.

"sorry. pause, rewind, repeat. come again?" leah asked slowly, sure she'd heard wrong as you chuckled. "please. leah baby we've been together for years, you think i can't tell when you're lying? faking sick? my love you are a terrible actor." you laughed with a shake of your head.

"forgive me, i'm a little lost here." was all your wife managed to get out, the two of you glancing over your shoulder at a thump and the sound of laughter, alessia stood with mila sat on her shoulders, making the girl with a pit of a stomach a sandwich.

"hi mummy, mama and i missed you!" mila noticed, waving furiously at leah from the other room who cautiously raised a hand and waved back, alessia sending her a wink and recapturing mila's attention as you clicked your fingers to gain hers.

"come with me williamson." you patted her chest with a wink, nodding for her to follow you as you took off down the hall, leah following you slowly, feeling a little as though she was walking to her own funeral.

the older girl hung in the doorway, watching as you rummaged through the wardrobe in alessia's spare bedroom, which judging by the arsenal sheets and toys strung about anywhere was basically your daughters room, mila loving her 'big girl' sleepovers with her aunties, alessia most of all being her godmother and your closest friend.

"close the door please." you spoke with your back still to her, leah hesitantly stepping inside and doing so. "sit on the bed." you asked next, leah still highly suspicious but also quite scared to say no wasting no time following your instructions.

"eyes closed."

"if you're going to kill me i'd rather see it coming darling." leah sighed making you snort out in laughter, shooting her a look over your shoulder as your wife sighed but closed her eyes none the less.

she flinched a little feeling something touch her hands, making your eyes roll as you assured it wasn't a weapon. "open." you smiled, half the package in her grip as the other remained in yours.

it was rare the outspoken defender was speechless, however clearly the sight of the toy she'd just spent the last six hours hunting for in perfect mint condition, sat in her hands, had rendered her tongue and words void.

"but-but-but-" she eventually stammered out as you merely smirked and nodded. "yes, yes, yes." you countered, tugging it out of her hands and setting it carefully down on the floor, leah immediately sliding off the bed and dropping to her knees.

"the barbie deluxe dreamhouse. with the fridge, the swing sets, the slide, the pool, the-" "yep, everything, all the bells and whistles." you took her seat on the edge of the bed, leah giving you an incredulous look. "but how did you even..." she trailed off, eyebrows scrunched together in pure utter confusion.

"please. leah did you really think i wouldn't have everything organised?" you scoffed quirking an eyebrow as leahs mouth opened and closed and she shook her head back and forth.

"so you knew-" "that you were lying? yes." "and you already-" "bought it weeks ago? absolutely." "but then you-" "sent you on an impossible wild goose chase around london for something i knew you wouldn't find and i already had? i most certainly did." you confirmed with a confident nod as leah seemed to crumple into a heap.

"i'd encourage you choose your next words very very carefully my love, especially if you'd like to have a merry christmas." your tone sharpened as a scowl set into your wifes features, wiped away as soon as it appeared.

"oh leah, get off me!" you huffed as within seconds she'd pounced, pinning you to the bed and kissing all over your face mumbling her thank you's. "i'm still mad at you! you lied to me, and i gave you the chance to be honest." you warned, leah stopping with lips puckered hovering just over yours, wincing and sitting up.

"oh really leah!" you groaned as again she flopped down on top of you, now mumbling how sorry she was as again her lips rained down kisses on every inch of your skin she could reach.

"get off me you dickhead and put the dreamhouse away before mila see's it!" you warned with a roll of your eyes, pushing her off of you as the blonde hurried to do just that, slotting it back on top of the cupboard where it was well out of sight or reach of your overtly inquisitive five year old.

"i really am sorry. so so so so so sorry my girl!" leah winced as she stood in between your legs where you'd sat up. "oh you will be. you're on clean up duty, today, tomorrow, tonight, boxing day, new years eve, new years day-" you rattled off, words swallowed by your wife leaning down and pressing her mouth against yours.

"done. i love you." leah pulled away and promised, shuffling back a little to allow you to stand up as you hummed. "i love you too, even if you are hopelessly disorganized." you sighed with a small smile.

"well thats why i married you." "don't push it williamson." you warned as she grinned, stealing another kiss as a crash was heard and both of you looked to the closed door.

"we should probably go sort that out." leah sighed, starting to head for the door as you tugged her back, hand slipping up her hoodie and fingers playing with the waistband of her jeans.

"let less tire her out for a bit baby, the earlier she crashes tonight after some movies and the cookies you'll sneak her when you both think i'm not looking, the better." you smiled as leah chuckled, unable to argue the fact.

"more time to play santa." leah agreed with a wink, pecking your lips and tensing a little as your fingers poked into her abs and you leaned up to speak into her ear a little more.

"mm and once the presents are sorted, i'd quite like to sit in santas lap, maybe give her sleigh a ride if she's earned it." you whispered, leah jolting as your hand smacked against her ass and with a cheeky grin you were sauntering off leaving the door open after you and your wifes cheeks flushed red.

"dear god i love christmas."

[cutebat]

You know what, fuck it. I'm going to write my own neglectful yandere batfamily cause everyone else is doing it, but I'm going to do it in a different way.

Yandere Batfam x Neglected, but Defiant Reader

Prologue (Diary Entry)

Warning(s): Mentions of yandere themes, neglect, emotional abuse, mentions of physical abuse, forcing to drop out, attempted guilt tripping, reader is just venting out her feelings

(I made this in the reader's POV to make the whole 'diary entry' thing more sense.)

~~~~~

July 22, 2024

It's funny when someone tells their story.

Only to be told back that it's unrealistic.

Almost as if they're afraid to believe it's real...

Oh, God, that sounded dark.

~~~~~

For everyone who doesn't know,

Bruce is a billionaire who's also a shitty dad

Dick is a dick, like actually

Jason uses his trauma to let all his frustrations on me

Tim is a delusional bitch

Cass was okay until she knocked me to the ground

Damian is just a thing who you want to burn to ashes

Alfred... I guess is just Alfred

~~~~~

I was basically raised as what people would call a 'black sheep'. Kind of like... actually, I don't need to explain all that.

Basically, I was adopted by the infamous Bruce Wayne when I was ten for whatever reason. After the first day of living with him and the family and giving me the new role of Batgirl, everyone just pretended as if I didn't exist.

I tried to interact with every one of them and all I got were "sorry, can't talk right now" and "can you shut up".

Like, WHAT THE FUCK DID I DO TO THEM?!

Is it because I'm prettier than all of them and had barely any trauma in my past? Seriously, why are people so jealous about these kinds of things?

Bruce really signed all that paperwork for nothing.

Of course, my little ten year old brain would think that if I tried to impress all of them with what I could do, maybe I could gain their attention.

So by the time I was twelve with my ten year old mindset goal in my head, I did nine different after school activities, won over fifteen awards for my achievements, and went out to patrol at least six nights a week.

And none of that worked! Those fuckers wouldn't even spare me a glance!

~~~~~

After a while, you don't see a point in trying your best.

I dropped out of most of the clubs I regret joining, I just laid back in my classes, and most of all...

I quit being Batgirl.

I didn't want to, but like I said, where's the point in that?

So with that, I just gave up on everything and just... stopped trying.

~~~~~

But then one year all of that almost changed?

For the first time ever, I found myself suddenly really pretty, and after a month I entered eighth grade, I was suddenly asked out by one guy, then two, and all the way up to ten!

It was like really cool!

The popular girls became my best friends, more guys would ask me out, and the teachers started pointing out that I was their favorite student, even the ones who weren't my teachers.

It felt like I was on top of everything. That I was special. The world is revolving around me.

Finally, I was in a place to build a great reputation.

And then life was like FUCK THAT!

~~~~~

After the first semester of eighth grade, Bruce was weirdly in my room and he said wanted to have a 'talk' with me.

So, during this talk, he was basically talking about the last three years of me being neglected by him and his family. To be honest, I forgot everything he told me, but honestly, I don't really care.

He also told the others about all this and now they suddenly feel bad which I don't give a shit about. But, I knew he was doing all this to guilt trip me, which was honestly so stupid.

Now, after he dropped that bomb, he told me that I had to drop out of school to do some "bonding time" with the others along with him and the people who actually cared about me didn't really matter at all!

I JUST GOT SETTLED IN!

All I said was "FUCK YOU" and just stormed out of my room with the only thing that I took was my diary that I had for quite a while that I never used before.

~~~~~

So, yeah. I'm currently in the attic, venting my feelings all out on this stupid glitter diary with a random pen that I found on the ground.

But whatever.

It doesn't matter.

Nothing matters...

My life is just a game.

A sick, hopeless game.

[s-brant]

Three’s Company

When Patrick visits his best friend at Stanford University, Art’s new fling finds herself stuck between two very attractive men.

9k (18+)

Warnings: smut, threesome, unprotected p in v, double penetration, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, they’re all pervs, and strong language.

-

The room is stiflingly hot.

There is no air conditioning in her study/fuck buddy's dorm to keep up with the late April heat that has descended upon Stanford's campus so quickly. Three different fans are plugged into outlets around the cramped living space, yet it does little to keep her body cool enough to feel comfortable.

Sleeping with Art was an impulsive decision. The first time was merely weeks ago after he politely asked if she would share her notes from a class he was absent from. They exchanged numbers to organize the meeting, and she ended up talking to him for the better part of an hour in the dining hall. Although she did not recognize it as flirting—the oblivious little thing she is—he shyly commented on seeing her at one of her gymnastics competitions and refused to let her get dinner with her meal credits. Looking back, his intentions should have been obvious to her, yet she does not think badly of him over it. If anything, she likes how wanted he made her feel. He knew what he wanted and ensured that he got it.

They came back to his room to study—only to study, he claimed with his hands held up to proclaim his innocence—for their approaching final exams.

"Good," she said with a teasing lilt to her voice, slinging her bag onto her shoulder and turning to walk in the direction of his dorm building. "Cause it's way too hot to be doing anything else."

They were both laughing as he set down his racquet bag to unlock the door. It was muffled through the wall, but Patrick heard it just fine from where he was perched on the foot of Art's bed with Tears for Fears playing on the unlabeled CD he dug through desk drawers to find. The sound of a distinctly feminine giggle made his mouth turn up at the corners in a smirk. This will be fun to tease his closest friend over until his cheeks flush pink and he has to hide his face in his shirt.

When the door swung open, the laughter died out as soon as they realized they weren't alone, but it was quickly replaced with wide smiles and warm greetings.

Patrick tried not to look her up and down so blatantly. Instead, he chuckled and said, "Art, you conveniently left out that you had a girlfriend on our last call."

To this, Art set down his bag and tackled him onto the bed, starting a minute-long wrestling match that only ended when they began to sweat from the heat and physical activity. It was then that Art remembered to have manners and introduced her. He scrambled to sit upright on the mattress and met her curious gaze.

"Y/N, this is Patrick. I'm sorry, I forgot what day he was coming."

She smiled.

"It's nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you." A pause, and then she turned her attention to Art. "Do you wanna study another time? I don't wanna intrude or anything."

Before Art could open his mouth to tell her to stay, Patrick aimed one of his charming grins at her, then said, "No, please intrude. I'll just hang out. You won't even know I'm here."

The last sentence caused a disbelieving scoff to leave Art’s lips.

As of right now, as she sits on the chair in front of the desk and the boys share the bed, they have gotten halfway through the study guide they meticulously constructed after one of the two classes they share, but it grew boring once an hour and a half passed. They typically end up getting distracted and make out by now, but with Patrick here, neither of them considers that an option. So, she suggests they take a half-hour break to sit, drink, and talk to allow their brains to decompress from the constant stimulation.

He already had a few beers inside the mini fridge beneath his desk, along with a hard seltzer for her seeing that she finds the taste of beer disgusting but quite enjoys being drunk with him. Also kept in the freezer section of the fridge is a pack of ice pops she bought a few days ago when the heat wave began. They prove to be very useful right now as the midday sun bakes the building alive despite the closed curtains and blowing fans.

The CD has moved onto Nine Inch Nails, and she remains quiet to hear it over the sound of the fans as she holds a red ice pop to the side of her neck to cool herself off. Sometime along the way, both of them had stripped down to their underwear after asking her if it was alright because it was so hot. Patrick joked that he was alright with her taking her clothes off too, which she laughed at while Art playfully shoved him over it. Yet now she isn't laughing. Her small exercise shorts are as forgiving as any item of clothing could be in these circumstances, but the long-sleeve shirt she wore because it was the only clean one left is sticking to her skin.

"So, how did you and Art meet?"

Her eyes open to find Patrick glancing back and forth between them.

"It's a boring story, actually," she says. "He asked if I took notes for a class he missed, and now he's stuck with me all the time."

"No, no, okay, maybe it was boring from her perspective, but I was trying to work up the nerve to talk to her for at least a week before then. I went to one of her competitions and recognized her from class," Art explains. "She won, which wasn't surprising at all."

Although she already knew this, this is the first time he has admitted to it out loud, and her stomach flutters at the idea of him becoming so enamored with her from one glance. The popsicle is sweet on her tastebuds when she raises it to her lips and sucks with her eyes looking between them both. As she expected, Patrick shifts a little in place and looks away for reasons not at all related to how she was looking at them while sucking her popsicle.

She chuckles.

"So, you were just interested in befriending me 'cause I win a lot?"

Her tone of voice is taunting, but they know it's all in good fun. Art is quick to play along, shrugging his shoulders to feign aloofness and taking a quick swig of his beer before responding. Their eye contact grows intense in the seconds before he speaks.

"Well, there were some other contributing factors."

"Mm," Patrick hums in agreement. "I've never seen you compete, but you are really hot, so Art's right about that."

This makes her pause for a second, her gaze shifting to find Art's to see if his friend crossed any lines, but he appears strangely calm about it. What she doesn't know is that he has never had any problem sharing, at least, not with Patrick. They shared a room in boarding school, jerked off together to the same girl, and shared the court together—what was his would always be Patrick's, and what was Patrick's would always be his.

"You're flirting with me right in front of him?"

Art interjects, "I'd be shocked if he didn't."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he's standing up from the bed to get another beer. The dorm room is small, so it only takes a few strides for him to meet her where she sits before the desk and kneels down to open the mini fridge. His left hand braces itself on one of her thighs while the right swings open the fridge door only to find there is no beer left. Rather than complain, he simply grabs one of her least favorite hard seltzer flavors and gives her thigh a firm squeeze before standing up.

The bed creaks beneath his weight when he sits back down on it.

He settles into a comfortable position with his back against the wall and legs spread, balancing the seltzer can on his bent knee. Patrick sits close to him, and she finds it difficult to peel her eyes off the pair of them in their current state of undress. Her gaze mostly lingers on Patrick seeing that she has already explored every inch of Art's lean body in the plentiful amount of times they've hooked up over the past few weeks. But, that being said, she cannot resist looking at Art either. Having two beautiful men laid out before her in their underwear is a treat she never expected to indulge in today. They each have the strong, masculine figures of athletes—showing mostly in their shoulders, biceps, abdomen, and thighs.

When Patrick notices her staring, she turns her gaze to the floor to avoid the embarrassment of being caught. If he did catch her, though, he doesn't call her out for it. Not yet, at least.

With one last bite of her popsicle, she stands from the desk chair to toss it into the small trash can beside his nightstand. It isn't until she lets it go that she realizes how close she now stands to the two of them. Only a foot or so from the bed, her heart begins to hammer in her chest at the proximity.

The way she sees it, she has two options. The first would be to retreat to the desk to let her long-sleeved shirt give her heatstroke while the men get to sit in front of the oscillating fans with their shirts off, or she can strip down to her undergarments and join them on the bed. Needless to say, she opts for the latter of the two.

Y/N lets out an exaggerated groan at the heat and fans herself with her hands for the sake of appearing somewhat innocent in what she's about to do, then reaches down for the hem of her shirt with a huff.

Art and Patrick can do nothing but watch with rapt attention side by side as she pulls the fabric up her torso and over her head. The shirt ends up falling to the floor beside her feet alongside their discarded t-shirts and pants. This leaves her in her most comfortable bra—which is Art's favorite since her nipples can be seen through the mesh material—and a pair of tiny spandex shorts.

Patrick's tongue darts out to wet his lips at the sight of her—almost angelic in her beauty—and tries to burn the image into his mind to hold onto forever. Definitely going in the spank bank, he thinks to himself as his cock begins to harden in his boxers. Beside him, Art has been stunned to silence. Even though they've fucked like rabbits since the first time, he isn't sure if he'll ever get used to seeing her like this. Those shorts hug the delicate curve of her hips, as well as that lovely ass that has been sculpted from years of training as a gymnast, and all he can think of is how badly he wants to take them off.

They sit there, dumbfounded, with their mouths hanging open just enough for her to notice and suppress an arrogant smirk. But to allow herself to smirk would be to reveal her cards, and she doesn't want them to see this as anything other than her innocently trying to cool down. Truth be told, she hasn't thought this through. It's not as though she planned this as she was sitting at the desk. It's more of an impulsive, irresistible urge. And if they will tease her so blatantly with their half-naked bodies, she is entitled to do the same.

"You," she says, jutting her chin in Patrick's direction. "Scoot. I wanna sit in front of the fans too."

Underneath it all, she's thankful that she took the time to do her hair the way that makes her feel the most confident and put a little makeup on. Not that either of them is focused on her damned makeup. No, they're far too busy ogling her figure to notice anything north of her collarbones.

After a delayed second of staring, what she said seems to register within him and spark him into action. He's quick to scoot closer to the end of the bed if it means she'll be inhabiting the small space between them. 

She offers a quiet, "Thank you," and crawls onto the bed, turning around and settling into place with her back against the wall. The cool air generated by the fans blows faintly against the front of her sweat-slick chest, and she can't help but shut her eyes and hum in appreciation of it.

With her eyes shut, Art and Patrick are both scrambling to quietly conceal their growing erections. If they don't, it'll be glaringly obvious when she opens her eyes and sees a tent in their underwear on either side of her. Although the life-long friends don't speak, there's an understanding formed between the two of them. Whatever she allows them to have of her tonight, if she allows anything, they'll share nicely. Patrick knows that if anything happens, he is to assume it is a one-time thing unless she or Art expresses a desire for an arrangement of some sort to be made.

Her eyes open again a few seconds later to find them staring at her.

Breaking the silence, she asks, turning her head left to right to address each of them, "Did your mothers never tell you it's rude to stare?"

Patrick doesn't miss a beat.

"Did you know it's rude to be a tease?"

The sound of Art sucking in a deep breath meets her ears, but she doesn't look away from Patrick. Their eyes are locked, and she can see the mischief present in his. It's almost as if he dares her to do something...like he knows that she wants him just as badly as he wants her. Part of her feels guilty, feeling like she should remain loyal to Art even though they aren't exclusive, but a much more dominant part of her desires it too much to resist the temptation.

"Patrick, don't pressure her. If she doesn't want to—"

Her head turning to look at him halts him in his tracks. The look she's giving him...

Much to his shock, she was a virgin when they met a few weeks ago. He questioned her relentlessly, claiming there was no way someone as beautiful, smart, and talented as her could've gone so long without doing it, but she held firm. It was the truth, he realized after she sheepishly relayed the story of how she made out with a basketball player on Halloween and wimped out before it could go further. That first night, she was a bashful, blushing little thing. He treated her with the tenderness and reverence she deserved, first making her come with his tongue and fingers before fucking her. It was so...intimate. Her nails dug into his shoulders when he made that first, breathtaking thrust into her. Just the thought of it was enough to get him hard the next day, but he knew not to expect anything after how shy she was the previous night. Little did he know, he awakened something within her, and from then on, she would be insatiable.

He almost got whiplash from how quickly she changed from a nervous, flushed-faced girl asking him, "Am I doing this right?" when she got on top to a cock-hungry temptress ready to jump onto him at any moment. Truth be told, he found it so fucking hot. To think that he was the catalyst for this behavior was beyond comprehension. Though Art did well enough in his dating life, Patrick was the one that the girls they liked gravitated toward when they were in school together. But she was his, and he thinks, even now, that he'll always have the satisfaction of having gotten to her first no matter what happens tonight.

Y/N shifts around on the mattress so that she's sitting on the side of the bed opposite the wall, facing them with her hands on her knees and legs tucked beneath her ass. Both boys perk up a little at this, and they watch every minute movement she makes and listen to every breath she breathes with unwavering focus.

She meets Art's gaze first before doing anything. Her brows raise in question, and, in answer, he gives her a slight nod. Those pretty, cherry-stained lips of hers curve into a smirk she doesn't even bother to hide in response to this.

"Have you ever fucked the same girl before?" she asks out of pure curiosity, her tone calm and even. Her hands leave her knees to grab one of their thighs each, slowly rubbing up and down to allow her fingertips to brush the edge of their boxers. "Two guys at the same time is a first for me..."

To say that they are in a state of shock would be a gross understatement. Surprisingly, their mouths are not hanging open, and they aren't drooling at the mere thought of what she's proposing.

Somehow, Patrick finds his voice and says, "No." A second of pause, then—"Is this for real? Like you're not just fucking with us?"

The silence that follows is ripe with tension. All that can be heard is the sound of voices passing in the hallway outside of the dorm room and fans blowing on their highest setting. The hands on their thighs come to a halt at the edge of their boxers, and the softened expression on her face shifts into one of unabashed lust as she looks at Patrick.

In answer to his question, she starts to crawl over to him. Seeing that the mattress is a twin, it doesn't take too long for her to reach him and settle into place on top of him. Her hands slide up to cup his face, forcing him to only look at her when she lowers herself onto his lap. The spandex shorts hugging every inch of her figure do little to keep him from feeling the warmth of her cunt against the bulge that formed the second she took her top off.

That first brush of her lips against his is gentle, as though she has him under a trance, but it doesn't take longer than a few seconds for him to snap out of it. Patrick's hands grasp her hips first to keep her from moving away, then they slide down to knead the soft, supple flesh of her ass as he begins to kiss her back hungrily. The kiss quickly begins to descend from her lips to her jaw until he reaches the soft skin of her neck.

While he nips and sucks at the sensitive spot along the side of her neck, Y/N opens her eyes to find Art staring, unblinking, at the pornographic display before him. The sight of him alone—between his messy blonde hair, piercing eyes, and masterfully structured face—is enough to pull a breathy moan from the back of her throat. One would think that she would get used to the way he makes her feel when he looks at her like that, but she never does.

One of the arms wrapped around Patrick's neck uncurls itself to reach for Art, fingers wiggling to beckon him to her. 

He's already invading her space by the time she whispers, "C'mere, baby."

Art practically melts into the two writhing bodies he kneels beside at the casual use of a pet name from her. The word echoes in the farthest reaches of his brain until it is all he can hear on a loop. Even as she grips the back of his neck and pulls him until their mouths collide, his cock twitches from the memory of her calling him baby.

Patrick continues to suck, lick, nip, and kiss his way down her neck as she slips her tongue into Art's mouth with a groan. He leaves marks behind everywhere he goes with the thought of his friend finding them on her for the next week and a half in mind. It only makes it more thrilling for him to imagine the strange mixture of frustration and arousal that will arise within Art when he rediscovers them the next time they hook up.

Slowly, she is guided onto her back by his mouth slipping down to take one of her nipples into it and his callused hands peeling her shorts, along with her soaked cotton thong, down over the swell of her ass. The freshly washed sheets are soft against her bare back as she lays back and watches Patrick worship her breasts with both his mouth and hands. In the midst of their repositioning, Art took it upon himself to squeeze into the cramped space next to Patrick, slotting himself between him and the wall the bed is pressed against. Without a word of warning, he dips his face down to kiss the breast Patrick is cupping in his hand.

She feels hands everywhere, unsure of which belongs to who. Hands grapple for purchase on her hips, her waist, her breasts, her thighs, and her ass—always moving in search of new territory to claim. Although they have no way of coordinating their actions, they seem to move in sync with one another. The second Art's mouth lowers to kiss down her stomach, which flinches inward at the feeling, Patrick follows. If she weren't so overwhelmed with everything right now, she'd likely laugh at how eager they are to race each other down the length of her body.

Their heads bump every few seconds by the time they reach her parted thighs, but they are too focused on getting a taste of her to care at first. They work with the same synchronized harmony they once had as doubles partners, Art tugging her left leg over his shoulder while Patrick shoves her right up and out until her thigh is flush with her chest. She can't help but silently thank her parents for enrolling her in gymnastics lessons years ago. If they hadn't, this would be a tad uncomfortable.

Finally, Patrick tries to shove Art to the side a little, complaining, "Come on, man, you're with her all the time."

To her surprise, it works for the first moment or so. Art places hot, open-mouthed kisses on her inner thigh as Patrick's tongue makes a broad stroke through her, but it isn't long before he grows dissatisfied with his current role in this impromptu threesome and decides to fight back. He doesn't shove or push like Patrick had, instead, he gently nudges his head against Patrick's until they can share her.

Having Art go down on her alone always feels pleasurable, but having both of their mouths on her at the same time is another sensation entirely. It's indescribable. Spit drools from their lips as they kiss her sodden cunt, taking turns flicking the tips of their tongues against her clit for the sake of hearing her moan over and over. From where she looks down at them, they're nearly kissing each other as they eat her out, and she has to tip her head back onto her shoulders to keep them from seeing her smirk.

When she looks back down, she makes a breathy, gasping sound at the sight of them. Patrick is looking up at her with an intensity no man has ever had when looking at her, not even Art, and there is no ignoring the feeling it stirs in the pit of her abdomen.

"Fuck," she whines and pushes herself harder against their faces, but it's never enough. "More—I need more. Please."

Neither one hesitates. In fact, they seem to form a plan without speaking it aloud. As Art's free hand raises from where it palmed his cock through his boxers, Patrick's lips close around her sensitive, puffy clit and start to suck. The tips of Art's middle and ring fingers brush tentatively against her hole, then, teasingly slow, push inside until they're buried knuckle deep.

The contrast of the men as lovers—Patrick being unforgiving and passionate, Art being tender and desperate—threatens to dizzy her. But Art cannot control himself for too long. He often starts slow and gentle, his eyes flooded with genuine affection for whoever is pinned under his body, then loses his composure the farther things go. By the time he's inside of her, he's almost brutal in how hard he fucks her, and it isn't out of malice, it's out of animalistic lust.

So, as per usual, the pace Art sets to begin with shifts into something harder and faster.

Over the sounds of the fans and music playing on the CD player across the room, a symphony of panting breaths, whines, and wet noises can be heard. It wouldn't surprise any of them if the people who were talking in the hallway could hear it, but it's not like they care right now. 

When she closes her eyes and tries to fall back against the mattress, Patrick stops for a second to murmur, "Don't look away," before getting back to work. Something about the way his voice sounds forces her to submit to his demand without hesitation. There's an edge to it. An underlying promise that he will stop and leave her here to suffer if she doesn't listen, so she does. She watches with a slack-jawed expression at how they work diligently to get her off.

The combined sensations of the fingers pumping into her at a steady, rushed pace and the lips enclosed around her sensitive bud push her closer and closer to the edge of oblivion. Art slips a third finger in and licks between her sticky folds as Patrick sucks her clit relentlessly. Everything they do is motivated by a dire need to take as much of her as they can, as though they can't quite believe what's happening and want to savor it before they wake from the dream. Seeing their desperation only fuels the fire roaring to life inside of her.

They feast on her the way starving men would if presented with food—humming and groaning in satisfaction at the taste of her on their tongues. Through the haze she's fallen under as a result of the present situation, her gaze lifts from where both of their faces are smushed together between her parted thighs to find that they're both humping the mattress. It seems like they don't even realize they're doing it, which, of course, only makes it hotter for her. To think that she wields enough power over them, that she renders them so useless and needy...

Her brows pinch together at the feeling of Art's fingertips finding the sweet spot inside of her.

"Right there," she breathes out in a shaky voice, hand shooting down to grasp anything she can find for support.

It ends up being Patrick's dark hair that is weaved between her fingers and used as her lifeline, tugging nearly every time Art's fingertips find the spot inside of her that makes her throw her head back on the bed and cry out for them. If they didn't have her pinned down, her hips would be lifting to meet every thrust, but she cannot do anything other than take it. Every breath she takes turns rapid, her chest rising and falling dramatically, as the familiar feeling of her impending release grows nearer by the second.

She says, half warning and half pleading with them, "I'm"—The sentence is cut off before it can be said by a high-pitched moan that makes Patrick moan and Art whimper into her—"Please"—What she's pleading for, none of them know, herself included, but she continues to babble nonsensically anyway—"Ah!"

The hand that isn't pulling on Patrick's hair reaches down instinctively for the hand Art grips her thigh with, and she doesn't even need to ask him for it. He entwines their fingers and allows her to squeeze his hand until circulation is lost as she finally feels the wave that was building within her begin to crest.

It hits her harder than she ever knew it could. 

Everything explodes into a sensation of bliss so strong, she loses herself in it. The only thing tying her body down to the earth is the feeling of the hands on her—touching her, fingering her, caressing her, and holding her hand—yet even that is not enough to keep her from floating away into another world entirely for the first few seconds of her orgasm. The muscles in her legs, so exhausted from being forced into a position like this, shake violently with every wave of pleasure rushing through her, and her walls clamp down around the fingers thrusting into her.

If she could live forever in these fifteen seconds, she would, but it soon becomes obvious to her that there's no chance of that happening. Gradually, the intense sensation starts to recede like the tides, and they are both there to help her ride it out to the very end. But once it fully fades, she wriggles beneath them in sensitivity.

Using the hand wrapped up in his hair, Y/N pulls Patrick's mouth away from her clit with a strength he didn't know to expect despite her obvious athletic background, and when Art notices this, he too slows the rhythmic pumping of his fingers inside of her throbbing heat to a stop. Wary of hurting her, he waits another five seconds before slowly pulling them out.

She has gone boneless where she lays on her back with her eyes shut and chest heaving for air.

Knowing she cannot see them, Patrick cuts his best friend a look and jerks his chin in her direction in a silent urging to check on her. Both men start to move at the same time, crawling over her until they reach her face. While Patrick lies beside her and trails his hand up and down her naked, sweat-soaked torso to occupy himself in the time it takes her to recover, Art licks her arousal from his fingers before grabbing her by the chin.

He asks with a teasing inflection, "You still with us?"

Her eyes slowly open to find them both staring at her, and she cannot help the slight smile that comes to her face at this.

"You guys almost killed me," she murmurs. "I think my vision got spotty for a second there."

They allow her another moment to catch her breath and recuperate in the aftermath of what she endured. She takes turns looking at them as she pants for air, laying with her arms above her head and thighs squeezed together due to her current state of sensitivity.

Patrick is the first to break the silence.

"We're not done with you," he says softly, the hand on her chest climbing up until it cradles the side of her neck. "But you know that, don't you?"

"I'd be a little bummed if you were," she replies.

Her head is whipping around at the sound of Art's voice.

"Only a little?"

She pushes herself up from where she's lying supine on the bed, which is now a mess of tangled sheets and sweat, to smack him on the arm. It's all in good fun, of course, and Art is hardly hurt by the playful blow she landed on him. Giggles escape her mouth as they begin to play fight, swatting and trying to pin one another down with Patrick there to spectate. He encourages Y/N to fight dirty, telling her where to strike, which causes Art to curse under his breath and declare him a traitor.

It ultimately ends with her on top, her legs straddling his hips and hands pinning his wrists to the bed. Based on the faraway, longing gleam in his eyes as he looks up at her, Patrick can tell immediately that she only won because Art allowed her to. Because there is something about being pinned to the bed underneath her that turns him on. And she knows it. It's easy to tell by how his erection presses up against her naked center through the fabric of his boxers.

Suddenly, she comes up onto her knees and moves back until she's hovering over his thighs. Her next words are a soft-spoked explanation for why she's reaching for the waistband of his boxers.

"Too much clothes."

But, to her surprise, another pair of hands comes to her aid in shimmying Art's underwear down his hips and legs. The way Patrick sees it, the sooner he helps her get them off, the sooner she'll take his off. And he isn't wrong. As soon as they get the boxers free from Art's body, the garment is tossed to the side without a care in the world. Neither of them looks to see where they landed, they're far too busy leaning in to kiss each other than keep track of their discarded clothing.

Her left hand is wrapped around Art's cock, pumping at a torturously slow pace, as she pulls away from Patrick with a string of saliva connecting their lips.

"Take those off," she says with a pointed look at his crotch.

To say he is sent scrambling to take off his underwear at her command would be an understatement. If this scenario itself wasn't hot enough to make her cunt throb with a desperate need to be fucked, she'd be giggling at his eagerness. But it's hard to find anything funny when she's faced with Patrick standing, one foot on the floor and his other leg braced against the bed at the knee, with nothing to conceal him from her anymore.

It must inflate his ego to heights it has never reached before to see her tongue dart out to wet her lips at the sight of him. The hand stroking Art falters as she admires Patrick's cock. It's about an inch longer than Art's yet equal in girth, curving up a little toward his hair-speckled, defined abdomen. A drop of precome has dripped from his tip, and she has to dip her head forward to get a quick taste. Those pretty lips wrap around him, not pushing down to take the rest of his shaft into her mouth but remaining where she is, flicking her tongue against the slit where the drops of sticky, pearlescent fluid secrete.

A taste is all she allows herself, though.

Her lips pull off of him with a soft popping sound, and she makes sure to maintain eye contact with him as she licks a drop of pre-come off of her top lip.

She turns to look at Art, then Patrick, then back at Art, asking, "How do you want me?"

Seeing that she was a virgin before she started seeing Art, she figures she isn't qualified to direct this in a way that'll be comfortable for everyone involved. No, if she had to bet, Patrick has the most experience between the three of them—with Art following closely behind—and he will have no problem taking control from here based on how he has acted thus far.

To their surprise, it's Art who answers first. 

Patrick was still in a faraway daze from having her mouth around his cock only to be kicked when he was down by the question she asked. How do you want me? God, it's like she's trying to kill them.

"On my lap."

Art pushes himself up from the mattress and repositions so he sits on his knees in front of them, reaching for her hips to pull her closer without a second of hesitation. Her arms instantly reach for his shoulders to steady herself as she maneuvers into the exact position he had in mind. Buried beneath the music that has become white noise to them and the fans running on their highest setting, he thinks he hears her breath hitch in her throat once she's straddling his lap, the tip of his cock nudging against her clit.

Absentmindedly, she starts to grind against him, coating him in the slick arousal that seeps from her, but it's slow. A tease compared to what's coming next.

"Patrick," he says, his voice unwavering despite the excitement that makes his stomach churn. His hand slides down from her neck, caressing her breast as it passes by at a lazy speed, until he takes hold of himself and pumps a few times—as if he isn't hard as a fucking rock already. Over her shoulder, he meets his friend's intense stare. "If you wanna fuck her, you should probably get on the bed."

And while he would usually fire back something equally witty or taunting, Patrick cannot manage to do anything but nod. There's something about seeing Art this way that subdues him. He would like to think that the sole reason he's standing naked in front of his best friend is because there's a girl involved, but that isn't true. Not completely. Although Art would never admit to himself that he feels the same way, there's something familiar about this. Comfortable. Right.

The mattress dips with Patrick's shifting weight, squeaking a little beneath his knees until he settles into place behind her. His chest presses against her back, and his hand reaches up to grab her jaw, guiding her head to tilt so he can kiss her neck while Art lines himself up with her. She feels Patrick's cock pressing against her ass as the broad tip of Art's sinks inside of her.

Having Patrick's face buried in her neck, her shoulder, and back to her neck again provided her and Art a rare second of private intimacy. Her eyes, glazed over with lust, lock into his and refuse to look away. The intensity present in his gaze does not frighten her. If anything, it sends a rush of adrenaline through her body, and she takes a second to admire his soft, wide eyes. She's never mentioned it aloud before, but she has always been fascinated with making eye contact with him due to his right eye. Half of the iris is a striking, clear shade of blue while the other is a warm brown hue.

"Fuck," he says under his breath at the feeling of her squeezing down around him, her tight cunt resisting a little until she relaxes and sinks down until there's nothing left to take.

There's nothing that compares to the feeling of the first thrust he makes.

Every time, it makes her bite her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. To feel him so deep is almost undoing in itself. Then she feels another hand slide between her legs, and her mind goes utterly blank. Everything outside of this room falls away the second Patrick starts to rub her clit in gentle, languid circles to help her adjust to the stretch of Art inside of her. Patrick's lips lavish every accessible inch of her bare skin with kisses as his friend, with a hand on each of her hips, starts to lift her up and down at an unhurried pace.

Their noses and lips brush without completely touching. When she pushes her face closer to Art's, hoping to lock lips with him, he pulls away for the sake of seeing her grow hot in the face from embarrassment. The mouth worshipping the back of her neck curves up into a smirk in reaction to the games Art plays with her. Who knew he's just as fun in bed as he is out of it? Certainly not Patrick.

She mutters, voice breathy and weak, "Feels so good..."

"Yeah?" Patrick murmurs into her skin and presses his fingers hard against her clit. "Tell me how he feels."

If he could see her the way Art can right now, he'd have to suppress a chuckle at how her brows pinch together at the command. Regardless of her sudden shyness, the words he says only make her ride Art harder. Over her shoulder, Patrick searches for those pale blue eyes only to find them staring through him already. Every smooth rocking motion of her hips pushes her ass against his neglected erection, providing him with a brushing touch before pivoting away again.

"He feels"—she says, chest rising and falling faster—"He's so hard." Her sentences are hardly coherent. "Perfect—mmm—fucking me so deep." One of her hands reaches to tug his down to press it against the southernmost part of her abdomen. "Feel."

With her palm molded over the back of his hand and forcing him to push down on her belly, Patrick can hardly keep from groaning at the subtle bulge of Art's cock moving in and out of her. It's strangely intimate for the three of them to share this experience, but for him to feel every thrust through her is more than he anticipated.

Unable to fight what instinct drives him to, Patrick shifts his hips until the angle of her grinding against him allows his tip to brush up against the hole she and Art have yet to touch. He doesn't do anything more, not without her asking for it, but it's clear to both Art and Y/N that he desperately wants to. All of this physical affection shared between the two of them has made Patrick needy and jealous, so she decides to grant him mercy.

She reaches behind herself blindly to guide him elsewhere, nudging him against the hole Art is already filling. It takes them a couple of seconds to understand what she means in doing this, but, once it clicks, they start to go a little crazy. For the moment, she has stopped bouncing on Art's cock for the sake of allowing Patrick to push in beside him, and he has to surge forward to kiss her. If he doesn't distract himself with a kiss, he'll be too tempted to move.

As Art kisses her deeply, his tongue invading her mouth and caressing her own, Patrick's hand wraps around her throat for leverage with his teeth nipping at her earlobe. His hand wraps around where hers grips his cock to guide it to her entrance, and with his help, they manage to squeeze the tip in.

Her jaw drops at the overwhelming sensation, and the sloppy kiss is interrupted when her head rolls back onto Patrick's shoulder. Art doesn't seem to care, though. Now that her head is tipped back, her neck is exposed for him to mark, and he takes advantage of the opportunity as soon as it presents itself. His lips brush against Patrick's fingers a few times as he kisses her fervently, sucking hard on the delicate skin that has already been bruised by his dear friend.

"You're beautiful," Art whispers into her neck between kisses. "So, so beautiful."

Taking it slow for her sake, Patrick has to force himself into her inch by inch, stretching her little cunt to take far more than she's accustomed to. But, as hard as it is, it works. After another few moments of him pushing in and pausing to let her adjust, he finally bottoms out with his cock flush against Art's. Her walls clamp down around them tightly. They both share a nervous look at this, wondering if they'll manage to last longer than thirty seconds if it already feels this good.

Slowly, she raises her head from where it slumped against Patrick's shoulder and meets Art's intense stare with one of her own. His hand raises to cup the side of her face, his fingers grazing against Patrick's, and he brushes his thumb over her kiss-swollen bottom lip. Every breath taken between the three of them is labored.

Pulling her lip down with his thumb, he asks, "Feeling okay?"

A half-second later, Patrick chimes in.

"If it's too much, you have to tell us."

Not a question, not a request, but a demand. The way he said it left no room for debate, so she nods in compliance and responds with an eagerness that neither man can miss, "M'fine, please, just fuck me..."

Patrick does not need to be told twice.

Having been sidelined for too long and forced to watch them fuck without him, he pulls out slowly, then cants his hips back against her ass with a force that takes her breath away. Amidst this, Art cannot do anything but let his face fall forward into her chest and whine in ecstasy. Just the movement of Patrick's cock rubbing against his with every thrust renders him useless. He knew it would feel better than any sex he'd had before, but this...He'll likely spend the rest of his life chasing the hedonism they are experiencing tonight.

One of her arms reaches behind her to grab Patrick's hip and dig her nails in hard while the other closes around Art's neck to pull both of them as close as can be. And now that he has forced himself back from the edge of a premature release, Art begins to move too, searching for a rhythm that feels right. Soon enough, he manages to find it. Both of their heads lift to look at each other, faces inches apart with their chins pressing on her shoulder, and they work with the same synchronicity they had while eating her out not even fifteen minutes ago.

She turns her head to the side to watch their stare-down as they rut into her like feral animals—utterly insatiable and overcome by their baser instincts. And it's only now that it occurs to her that, underneath it all, they want each other as desperately and pathetically as they want her. Patrick's gaze relentlessly bounces back and forth between Art's eyes and lips, and it makes her smirk to herself. The pleasure of fucking her as one, their pulsing cocks rubbing together in the warm walls of her cunt, has lowered their inhibitions, and the idea of being intimate with one another isn't as daunting as it would be if they were fully aware.

Leaning in to brush her cherry-flavored lips against Art's ear, she whispers, "I want you to kiss him."

The arm looped around the back of his neck pulls tighter in encouragement, bringing his body so close to hers that she can feel his ribs expanding with every breath. His only reaction to her request is a quick glance at her face once she pulls away from his ear with a sensuous lick as a parting gift. It's almost as though he doesn't believe what she's saying, but the reassuring expression she wears tells him that it is real. She truly wants him to see him kiss his best friend, not only for their enjoyment but hers as well.

One second, he's looking at her, and the next, he's slotting his lips against Patrick's with a passion previously only reserved for her. Their hands both grapple for purchase on her sweat-slick body, Art aggressively kneading her breasts and Patrick squeezing her hips for dear life, as they moan into each other's mouths.

As they kiss each other hungrily, Y/N has nothing left to do but bask in the tension swelling inside of her. There's something about how wrong this situation feels to her that makes it so much more arousing. Girls are always raised with the idea that promiscuity lessens their value, and she was not an exception. Having been raised in a family of devout believers, she hadn't kissed a boy until she was seventeen years old. The next person she kissed was Art, and in the time since their first kiss, he has thoroughly corrupted her.

And even as distracted as he is by the all-consuming, wet kiss he's engaged in, Art feels her cunt start to squeeze around their cocks and immediately drops one of the hands on her breasts between her splayed thighs. His finger rubs in tight circles on her clit in hopes that she will reach her end before he and Patrick come pathetically soon.

Her body jerks where it's trapped between them when his fingers make contact, pulling their focus away from each other for the first time since their lips touched. Patrick reaches up to hold her neck in one hand and forces her face to the side so both of them can look at every subtle expression she makes. 

"Don't stop," she pleads, eyes glazed over. "M'so close, Art"—Every merciless thrust elicits a high-pitched whine from her—"Patrick, please!"

The body trapped between them has gone boneless and twitchy, utterly useless at holding herself up or aiding them in any way. But they wear it like a badge of honor. With her face falling forward into Art's neck, she loses her grasp on all that is around her and lets them prop her up to fuck her like a toy existing solely for their gratification.

With one hand cradling the back of her head and the other between her thighs, still dutifully rubbing her clit, Art asks under his breath, "Isn't she fucking perfect?"

Although it was a question meant for Patrick, she can't help how she moans and clenches her walls around them when she hears it. Panting breaths from the three of them flood the sweltering dorm room, but they are too far gone to notice or care how much sweat drips off of their bodies onto one another. It's almost hard to get a firm grip on her as a result of it, but they manage to keep her in place by smushing their bodies as close as physically possible on both sides of her.

Patrick bucks his hips up into her with a recklessness that gives away how close he is to his climax.

He says, "Oh, God, yeah." The hand still collaring her delicate neck squeezes just enough to take her breath away for a second. However, once he released his hold on her, that hand moved to wrap itself up the roots of her hair. "Best pussy I've ever had. So fucking tight, it's like she wants us to come inside her." A pause, then, "Is that what you want?"

A second passes of silence from her, and he sharply tugs back on her hair until her face is no longer hidden in Art's neck. This allows them to drink in the sight of her—face twisted up in pleasure and mouth gaping open.

He asks again, "Is that what you want?"

Her response is immediate.

"Yes, yes, yes," she murmurs incoherently and takes quick turns to look between their faces. If the expressions they wear are any indication, it won't be long before her wish is fulfilled. "I'm—mmm-gonna come! I need you to fill me up, please, please!"

To this, Art rubs her clit faster while maintaining eye contact with her and finally lets go of whatever remaining scraps of self-control he has left. Knowing how close she is pushes them closer themselves, and they start to pound her hard. Hard enough that even they, as soon-to-be professional athletes, have difficulty sustaining this intense degree of exertion.

The arm that she looped around his shoulders is still there, but now her hand is sliding down from the back of Art's neck to explore the toned musculature of his upper back. Under her searching palm, she can feel his muscles contracting and relaxing beneath his pale skin.

To both her and Art's surprise, the world begins to shift in their peripheral vision until he falls flat against the mattress on his back with his length still sheathed inside of her. It takes a second for their brains to catch up with what happened and deem Patrick responsible for the position change. He laid his hands flat on her back and pushed with just the right amount of force to pin Art to the mattress beneath them.

Art says, breathless, "I can feel you squeezing us, baby, just let go."

Hearing those words sets fire to her blood, and that, paired with the toe-curling sensation of them pressing deep inside of her, hitting that spot over and over and over, is what tips her over the edge.

Patrick keeps pulling on her hair to force her head up so that they can feel and watch her come, and what a beautiful sight it is. Art, the lucky bastard, is face to face with her as she tenses up with the onslaught of her climax. But he can see the side of her pretty, flushed face and drink up every little sound she makes, so he doesn't feel left out in any way. No, he is experiencing this right beside Art. They're both trapped inside of her, pumping into her throbbing heat and letting themselves be swept away into oblivion by the feeling of her coming undone.

She digs her nails into Art's skin hard enough to hurt as she whines and writhes between them with each pulse of pleasure that runs through her, and it isn't until she's starting to come down, riding out the high, that she feels them spill into her at the same time. Every sensation attached to it prolongs her orgasm—the throbbing, the spreading warmth, and the dying undulations of their hips that grind their cocks together within her. And beyond the physicality of the act, just knowing that they're filling her to the brim with their come makes her head spin from how fucking hot she finds it.

It isn't long before their thrusts slow into a sensuous grinding as they come down from it together, then come to a full stop to keep from overstimulating themselves. They both are starting to go soft, panting and leaning against her limp body in exhaustion, and know they wouldn't be able to continue even if they wanted to.

Her head is laid on Art’s shoulder with Patrick’s nose nuzzling her neck. There's nothing they can do except remain still and try to recover from the euphoria that has rendered them useless, so that is precisely what they do. With their bodies nearly melting together from the heat, the three of them hold onto each other for support until they manage to return to full consciousness after what they went through.

It isn't until another couple of moments have elapsed that Patrick and Art start murmuring to one another while she remains slumped between them. A second later, both pairs of hands are squeezing her hips; lifting her off of their softening cocks, slowly, gently, and minding her sensitivity.

The three of them collapse side by side on the twin bed, bodies squeezed together like sardines, and she finally comes back down from the clouds her head floated into at the feeling of them touching her. It isn't sexual. No, they wouldn't dream of putting her through anything more than she could handle right now. Both touches are tender and featherlight—Art's hand molds over her breast simply to cup it as they cuddle while Patrick brings her hand up from her side to brush a kiss over her knuckles.

The silence continues to stretch on, then—

"We're definitely gonna have to do that again," she says, turning her head to look at each of them before laying her cheek against Art's shoulder. "That is, if you don't mind sharing me."

His gaze softens, the hand cupping her breast ghosting up over her skin until it finds her and Patrick's entwined hands.

"I don't mind one bit."

-

Thank you for reading this! I probably won’t write any more Challengers fics but I saw the movie like five times in theaters and needed to crank this out to satisfy the part of me that is obsessed with the hotel scene. I would really appreciate a comment to let me know what you thought if you’re open to that 🫶🏻 The oral part of this fic was inspired by these two (1) (2) I read, so def give them a read cause they're great!

[channiesbakery]

tiger plushies —

prompt / request — “oh my god if you buy one more plush to occupy my spot on the bed i'm kicking you out to sleep on the couch.”

pairing — reader + boyfriend!hoshi

word count — 594

genre — fluff, suggestive

author’s note — no bc i have way too many hoshi plushies (honestly just too many plushies in general) 😭

as soon as he arrived back home from tour, soonyoung went straight to your place, not bothering to go to his.

he hadn’t seen you in weeks so the only thing on his mind right now was seeing you.

the minute you open your door, he’s basically on you. his hands cup your cheeks, kissing you like he hadn’t seen you in years.

you can’t help but giggle against the kiss, finally able to pull away when soonyoung needed a breath.

“someone’s eager today,” you tease. “can you blame me? i haven’t seen you in weeks, honey,” he says, a slight whine in his voice as he kisses you again.

you make out on the couch for a bit before you pull away, leaning your forehead against his. “upstairs?” you ask. “upstairs,” he nods, automatically agreeing with you.

soonyoung is ready to push you into your bed when you step in until he sees what’s on your bed.

“babe,” he whines when he takes a look at your bed, seeing his half of it covered with plushies of various sizes.

“what?” you furrow your eyebrows at his whiny tone. “there’s no space for me,” he gives you an exaggerated pout. “i leave for two weeks and you replace me? giving my space away already?” he asks.

“well you were gone, they kept me company,” you tease. “I can’t believe you replaced me with plushies,” he sighs dramatically.

“babe, half of these came from you,” you remind him, watching as he grabs the dolls. “hey what are you doing?” you ask.

“taking back my space,” soonyoung grumbles, moving them to the top of a dresser. “okay fine, but leave tamtam. he’s my favorite,” you say and he just gapes at you.

“i’m right here! and you prefer tamtam?” he gasps and you just laugh at your boyfriend’s over dramatic reactions.

“don’t laugh,” he whines as you open your arms for him to join you on your now empty bed. “sorry baby, will a kiss make it better?” you tease, giving him a quick peck.

“gotta do better than that,” he says before quickly changing your positions, with his back against the headboard while you’re straddling his lap.

soonyoung wastes no time connecting your lips again, his kiss much more needy and hungry compared to your quick peck.

soonyoung breaks the kiss for a second but before you can complain, his lips are back on yours.

but when he breaks the kiss for the third time and you groan. “soonyoung what is it?” you ask, opening your eyes to see him peering over your shoulder to look at your counter.

“I can feel them staring,” he says, referring to the plush animals. “are you– babe, they’re stuffed toys,” you give him a look.

“tamtam is staring,” he says and you just sigh as he got out of bed, turning all the plushies to face the wall.

“can we get back to it now?” you ask as he climbs back into bed with you. “gladly,” he grins.

but it doesn’t last long before he stops kissing you again. “what now?” you groan. “nothing. just forgot to tell you something since i got here,” he says and you raise an eyebrow for him to continue.

“i love you. even though you replaced me with plushies while i was gone,” he huffs a little at the last part. “i love you too, soonie. but i may just love tamtam more,” you tease.

“okay that’s it. I’m taking tamtam back with me when i leave. i’m supposed to be your favorite tiger!”

[kaysungshine]

Redamancy: Part II ['red-a-man-sE] noun ;a love returned in full

(If you haven't read part one, you definitely should!)

{ Pairing } - idol!bangchan x staff!afab.reader (bestie!jisung)

{ Genre } - NSFW; s/a/f trifecta, now friends to enemies to lovers, pining

{ Synopsis } - Things are awkward now, you're avoiding each other. In fact you distanced yourself from the entire group. What happens when Ji confronts you? What happens when Chan does a 180 and tries to befriend you? And what happens when Chan finally has you alone in his room?

{ WC } - 14.3k (I am so sorry 🥺) + 2 screenshots

{ Warnings & Tags } - 18+ MDNI, lowkey POV switch , lots and lots of angst, eventual smut & fluff, swearing, use of babygirl, multiple nicknames for members, choking, drinking, bestie jisung crying, hyunjin being a logical romantic, y/n being a little toxic but learning from it, they're honestly both a lotta stupid, oral(f. receiving), dry humping, hickeys and bruising, questionable breath play (please research if you plan on doing this, do it safely), chans nipples are sensitive, he's just sensitive in general with y/n, fingering, needy chan, members teasing, talk of edging, talk of bdsm, these two are VOCAL as hell, so lots of moaning, groaning, whining, whimpering, mewling, and dirty talk during sex, unprotected sex (piv), pull out method (again don't do this, practise safe sex), much cringe, much awkward, but they overcome it (LMK if I forgot any, I'm sorry)

{ Disclaimer } - This work is in no way associated or depicting the actual life of the members of SKZ. It is a fictional piece of work, and I do not own Stray Kids. All works of fiction are loosely inspired by SKZ, and in no way am I saying it is true to their character.

{ A/N } - Alright almost a month later, and I finally finished part two!! Please don't hate meeee, I beg your forgiveness, please. It took me a while because I just couldn't stop writing and adding things. Editing also took FOREVER, because I wasn't confident that it would satisfy you guys. I'm still not sure. So I apologize if this didn't live up to your expectations, again, please be gentle with me ♡. Understand that this is only my 2nd SKZ fic, so I'm still learning about how to portray each character, and how to piece things together seamlessly!

Chan was starting to worry. It had been almost two weeks and he still hadn't seen you, nor heard from you. It wasn't like you two really spoke outside of questioning the other about Jisungs' whereabouts. There were the occasional texts, again about Jisung. He didn't know what to say to you to begin with. Apologize? He already did that, and it only seemed to make you more upset. But that was in the moment, and both your emotions were on overdrive. 

The other members were starting to notice your absence, questioning Han about it. Asking if you were okay. You'd even started avoiding all the public areas at the building. No one was even sure if you were eating during the day, or there at all. You didn't go to the cafeteria, break rooms, or practise rooms. No one caught you in the lounge areas, elevator, or the stairwell. No one even saw you coming into or leaving the building. It was to the point where Hyunjin was nearly planning steakout missions with Jisung. And poor Ji. He only got to see you twice since that night. A drastic decrease in comparison to how often he usually spends time with you. Chan only knew that because he overheard him talking to Minho about it. That was all he heard before Han noticed him standing there, and left for his room, sending him a spine chilling glare along the way. 

And Chan knew it really was all his fault when Minho just gave him a curiously sad look, and patted him on the shoulder. You obviously said something to Han, who said something to Minho. He wonders who else knows how bad he messed up. 

He was racking his brain trying to figure out how to fix this. Never in a million years had he thought he'd actually get a chance to experience such a quintessential moment with you. He'd liked you for so long, it was starting to turn into more than that. Ever since he'd seen you helping a new trainee navigate the building, he grew interested in your kind heart first and foremost. He's sure he's been through all the emotions. Excitement, because you started hanging around with them and you fell right into the dynamic so easily. Anxiety, because he didn't know how to approach you at first. Jealousy, when Han got all of the attention from you. Anger, when he thought you and Han started dating secretly. Embarrassment, when he realized how wrong he was. Hope, when you two shared a hug, even though it was a very awkward hug. Despondent, when he still couldn't figure out how to act around you, letting whatever growing friendship you two had begun, stall. And now regretful. But not regret for kissing you, touching you, or nearly fucking you. No, regret that he had stopped. 

Such a beautiful moment, where he was truly lost in bliss. And he halted it. He let his anxiety get to him, his internal conflict wouldn't shut up.

He truly was worried about the technicality of it all. The rules, the company, the media, the fans. Worst of all, you would receive the brunt of it. He didn't know how to protect you from it all. He was constantly going back and forth in his head. How could he make it work? Would you even want to make it work? Did you even like him? What did you think about him exactly? 

He wasn't blind. Every once in a while he'd catch your eyes on him for a little too long. Any 'accidental' physical contact you had with him would linger. And he knew there was a certain smile you'd reserved just for him. Not to mention, you were always the first to reach out directly, and make conversation with him. He was always too afraid to. He felt like a coward. And when he finally had the courage to make a move, a bold move, a ravenous move... His ego suddenly deflated when he realized his actions could be taken the wrong way.

He panicked.

He doesn't want you to think that he just wants sex from you. That you're just a fling. A one night stand. A hookup. No he wanted to do it the right way. He wanted to take you on a date, he wanted to learn more about you, to meet your friends. He wanted you to meet his family, to meet Berry. He even fantasized about planning a special date to ask you to be his girlfriend. He fantasized about anniversaries, about holidays spent together, a life spent together. He wanted to give you the world. He fell for you hard. And in that moment, he felt like he was doing it all backwards. So he stopped. It nearly killed him, but he stopped. And he should've done anything, quite literally anything else but stop.

When he saw the spark in your eyes dimming, only to be replaced with apprehension. He immediately apologized, and spat out a quick blurb about being inappropriate. 

Your entire face just sunk, and he shut down. There was nothing more he could say about it, not in that moment. And he felt even worse when you said you understood, but he didn't let it show. You didn't understand, not really. There was no way in hell you could, and he desperately wanted to just spill everything that second. But he wanted to be sober, wanted you to be sober, so instead he told you to drink water. And go to bed. 

What the hell was wrong with him. 

He even made sure to wake up early the next morning, anticipating to somehow get the chance to talk to you. When you came running down the hall, he was sure that it was fate. The chance that you two had alone time this early was perfect. He had hoped that this would all be sorted out. If he confessed, maybe you would too. Then he could explain last night, and you two could talk about it. And if it didn't work out like that, at the very least he could try to preserve your friendship. It would be painful to remain just friends, but he didn't want you out of his life. He couldn't imagine that. He doesn’t think he could handle that. After he greeted you, he noticed your eyes had tears in them. You were starting to hyperventilate, and tremble. 

Then you were leaving. 

Even though he's come up with world class lyrics, he seemed to be failing with his words lately. He didn't ask if you were okay, or what was wrong, or breach the topic that was clearly needing clarification. No, instead, he followed up with asking if you wanted breakfast. 

You didn't even look at him. The tone of your voice was glacial, freezing him right to the spot. He'd never heard you sound like that. He just stood there, watching the door close. Listening to your car start, listening to you drive off. And then he stood there more, afraid to move. 

When Jisung came running out 15 minutes later, he was still standing there. Han saw your things were gone, and knew that you left. Chan only decided to move when Han uttered five angry words to him. 

'You really fucked up, Chan.'

He knew he did. And he didn't know where to begin to fix it...

"--Channie-hyung!" 

He whipped his head up, and found Jeongin snapping his fingers in front of face, trying to get his attention. 

They'd been at dance practice, taking a break. He only then realized that he'd zoned out the entire time, not eating, not grabbing water, not even sitting down. Just recounting his mistakes, and dwelling on them. Now it was time to get back to work. 

Jeongin was giving him a strange look, but he didn't dare question him. In addition to messing things up with you, he'd been too on edge. Snapping at one too many people. He didn't want to risk Chan blowing up on him next.

"Where's Hannie and Hyune?" Chan questions.

"Probably still in the cafeteria..." Minho responds, giving him a knowing look. 

Minho was the one keeping both him and Han in check at the moment. He felt bad for forcing him into a position like that, considering he was Chan's younger member. Even if it's just one year. Having to be a mediator daily between his two brothers, he knew it must've taken a toll on him. But he never complained, and Chan was grateful nonetheless. 

Chan nodded, and went to grab water from his bag. As he was chugging it, Jisung came into the room and went straight to Minho. Furiously whispering at him, pushing his hair back. Hyunjin trailed in not long after, his eyes darted to Chan, but looked away quickly. 

"What's going on?" Seungmin asked.

Minho just put his hand up to him, and the younger one scoffed. He turned to Felix, "The hyungs are acting fucking weird lately." 

Felix hummed in agreement, as he continued massaging Changbin. 

"Aye, I don't know what's going on either, don't group me in." Changbin grunted.

Chan hesitantly approached the bickering pair, and the look Minho now gave him was one of warning. But it was too late. 

"It's all your fault." Han spat at him. 

"Excuse me?" He bit back, not expecting such an outburst from him.

Hyunjin quickly jumped up to try and get between them and explain, "We saw y/n in the cafeteria toda-"

"She isn't coming over this weekend again. And she's not letting me over to hers either. She wants to be alone. I wonder why." Han interrupts, crossing his arms.

The room was eerily quiet. Everyone knew something was up, that much was obvious. The fact that Han was slightly vague though, it gives Chan the idea that the exact details remain relatively private. 

"Is she still here?" Chan whispers through clenched teeth, holding fierce eye contact with Han, but he's getting more daring.

"She's about to leave. YOU," Han pointed to Chan, poking his finger right into his chest, "need to figure your shit out, and stop playing around. Fix. It."

"HAN JISUNG." Minho yells sternly, "You need to stop being so disrespectful. No matter the situation, remember who you're talking to. Let's take a walk." 

He drags Han out of the room, and down the hall.

Chan was left standing there, ears burning and fists trembling at his sides. It was safe to say practice was done early for the day. So he quickly dismissed everyone, and was the first to leave.

He found himself searching for you throughout the building, with no luck. Until the elevator doors opened, he stepped on with his head hung down. So consumed in his own thoughts again, he didn't realize the other person at first. 

When he lifted his head to finally greet them, he was faced with you. You refused to even look at his way, choosing to face straight forward at the exit. 

"Y/n..." He managed to croak out, weakly. 

Silence, still. As soon as the doors opened, you rushed out. He was stuck standing there again. 

It was early Friday night, and you were already wrapped in the blankets on your bed. Aimlessly scrolling and tapping on tiktok, not even really paying attention to any of the videos. 

You weren't used to spending this much time alone, not anymore. You wanted to go see the people who you realized felt like home to you, especially in this foreign country. But you didn't want to deal with the fallout of the oldest. Jiji did beg to come over... You'd been missing him so much. You'd been missing everyone so much, even your co-workers.

Most of the work you do can be done from home, on your personal pc or work laptop. The majority of your co-workers had periods of time where they wouldn't set foot into the building for weeks at a time. You knew it wouldn't be weird to them if you worked from home for a while. So you've been opting to do that, only going into the building if you absolutely needed to.

Until today that is. At nearly 4 in the morning you were cc'd on multiple emails. The constant dinging woke you up. There was a huge issue with a group's new M/V. Footage was corrupted, drafts were deleted, and it had already passed the deadline. They needed all hands on deck. You were in such a rush to come in, you didn't bring any food or drinks with you. You had arrived about an hour after receiving the email, so by the time afternoon rolled around, you needed to get something in your system. Thankfully the major issues had been solved, but now came the fine tuning. You could finish up at home, but truthfully you missed being out and about. Even if it was just at work.

You reluctantly made your way down to the cafeteria, thinking you'd be safe because you know SKZ's schedule for today. You knew they'd be in dance practice. Oh how surprised you were when Jisung nearly tackled you to the ground. He was on you as soon as you came down the stairs to the main level. Your heart hurts when you see the glossy look in his eyes, paired with sadness. Hyunjin was right next to him, trying to pry him off of you and avoid a scene. Instead you pulled him into a group hug, which he eventually accepted, wrapping his arms around the both of you. 

They both badgered you with questions. Asking where you'd been, what happened, if you were mad at them. You were honest with them, and nearly broke down again. You weren't okay. You were hurt, and angry. But you assured them that you weren't angry with any of them, besides one obviously. And even though Jiji didn't bring up Chan exactly, or that night, you did. You started ranting about how stupid you felt for what happened. You've been holding it all in for the longest time, the words were rolling off your tongue effortlessly. 

You could see that at first, Hyunjin was a little shocked and confused. Possibly embarrassed judging by his pink tinted cheeks. But he held your other hand, that Ji wasn't holding, supporting you either way. You couldn't begin to express your appreciation. You'd half expected all the members to know exactly what happened. You also figured they'd side with Chan, and be upset at you for cutting off all contact basically. Considering Hyunjin didn't know what happened, you knew that wasn't the case. Relief washed over you slightly. 

It would be better if less people knew, less people to pick sides. In the grand scheme of things, this was only really between two people. There was no need to involve anyone else directly. On top of that, you'd never ask any of them to pick your side, not only because you know where you'd stand compared to their leader. You also wanted to avoid negative drama, and any arguments that might start with them.

Jisung begged you to come over tonight. Said that they would figure it out, that he would take you to his room even. He tried to make you laugh saying he'd even hang a sign saying 'no Chan's allowed' on his door. But you refused, not wanting to create uneasy tension, or make anyone feel uncomfortable in their own home. 

He then offered to come over and have a night just the two of you, and as tempting as it was, you found yourself wanting to be alone. Your go to method for self soothing was always solitude, even if it wasn't always healthy. 

You could see him deflating the more you denied his offers to spend time together. The anxiety was growing in his eyes. Knowing him, he was fearing that this was the end of your friendship. That simply could never happen.

'Give me just a few more days, and I'll be over it all. I'll be back to normal.'

That's what you told him, but you didn't even know if that was true. Regardless, you refused to lose your best friend over a situation like this.

One thing's for sure, you need to stop isolating. It wasn't helping as much as you convinced yourself it would. Just as you were debating texting Ji that you changed your mind, and to come over. Your phone chimed, and it was Jiji, he texted you first.

You threw the blankets off, opting to keep on your pajama shorts instead of changing. You slid a hoodie on over your cami though, because you refused to put a bra on. 

They're your friends and you know they'd never judge you or your home. Still you tidied up the take out containers, cups, and cans left in your kitchen and living room. You folded your throw blankets, and fluffed up the pillows on your couch. You quickly picked up the clothes strewn across your apartment, and threw them into your room. You'd deal with the laundry later. Lastly, you went to take the garbage out, and as you turned to go back inside, a car drove up and Ji hopped out. He was in a hoodie, with the hood pulled up. He also wore sunglasses, and a black mask. 

"Y/nie!" Ji said and ran up to hug you.

"Long time no see." You joke, wrapping your arms around him. 

Hyunjin was also semi disguising himself, also in a hoodie. He had a baseball cap on, with his hood also up. He covered his eyes with the visor, and wore a black mask as well. He sent off the driver with a thank you and wave.

"Don't tease. It's been an excruciating amount of time. I need to recharge." He said squeezing you tighter.

"Hey y/n." Hyunjin walked up next, carrying bags full of goodies. 

"Hey! Come on, give me those, let's get inside." 

After you lead them in, you guys get comfy in the living room. They brought drinks, and loads of snacks and candy. In no time, you fell into that familiar and comfortable groove of your usual weekend shenanigans. Just a smaller circle this time.

"So," Ji started with his cheeks full of cheesecake, "I got in trouble with Minho." 

"How?!" You giggled. 

"I think Minho saved you actually, the way Chan was looking at you? He needed to get you out of there, you were NOT giving it up." Hyune said. 

"Wait, what happened?" You sat up more, worried now. 

"Tchh, he wouldn't have laid a finger on me." He tried to act confidently, but the way he rubbed his hands together told a different story.

"You guys fought?!" You gasped.

When Ji said nothing, and avoided your eyes, Hyune decided to speak up.

"They've been fighting. Mostly silently. You know, avoiding each other, sending the other looks and glares. But some days Hannie can't keep his mouth shut."

You gave Ji a stern look, and he just swallowed his cake.

"Anyways," Ji said, clearly trying to get the subject off of Chan, "Minho was so angry with me. I got scolded so much, I nearly cried."

"Well, yelling at Chan in front of the entire group probably wasn't the smartest thing to do..." Hyune mumbled.

Suddenly, concern washed over you. Surprisingly for Chan. You couldn't help it when the words just slipped out.

"So... how is Chan?" You attempted to sound nonchalant, stuffing your mouth with a brownie immediately afterwards.

They were both staring at you, unsure of how to answer. 

"He's... tense. I get something clearly happened between you two, but I don't know exactly what's up. He seems angry, and lashes out at people verbally... But he's sad too, he's been attempting to hide away from everyone too." Hyune says. 

"He has no reason to be angry." Ji snaps.

"Ji..." You say, "You should stop being so hostile to him. He didn't do anything to you..." 

Damn that soft spot in your heart, even when you've been completely devastated by him, you're sitting here defending him. 

He gave you the stern look now, "No. But he did something to hurt you. He's acting like a god damn fuck boy, and I always knew him to be better than that. I've never seen you like this! He made you stop visiting us, you even stopped talking to me throughout the day. He created a divide. And I'm sorry to be selfish, but whether or not it was done to me, it still affected me too!"

The anguish in his voice shot through your chest, creating that god awful sinking feeling. He was right, but still... it wasn't only Chan that held the blame. You were guilty of your own actions. You never should've pushed any of them away, especially Hanji.

"Okay, I have to ask. What the hell happened, it seems like he did something really bad." Hyunjin finally asked, worry written all over his face.

Ji refused to look up from his cheesecake, he was now just mashing it up angrily on his plate. 

"I like Chan." You blurted out, "Well, I liked him. I still like him? I'm trying to get over him though. But it's proving to be more difficult than I thought, so maybe it's more than me just having a crush. I don't know. It feels ridiculous to have such big emotions towards him, considering we struggle to even hold a conversation. I know nothing substantial about him, and I'm sure it's vice-versa. But the last time I was over... We ended up... halfway hooking up in the hall? But he stopped. And he looked at me like I was crazy. Like he forgot who I was, and like... like he was disgusted that it was me he was touching." You started rambling now. 

"And I mean I get it. I'm me, nothing special. We were drunk, and I'm sure with the way we were feeling, it could've just been chalked up to hormones on overdrive. But... I really thought he was reciprocating my feelings. I feel so stupid, to put that much value into sex. It's just sex. And it didn't even happen! I don't know. It just hurt, it still hurts. The regret in his eyes, that stung so bad. Because I didn't regret it, fuck, I don't regret it... I'm just so angry. I can't seem to move on from this."

They both sat listening to you, as tears began to well in your eyes. Ji pulled you into him, your head resting on his chest. Your arm rested on top of his stomach, the other sliding between his back and the couch. He was carding his fingers through your hair, and scratching your scalp lightly, like he knew you liked.

"Stop talking down on yourself. I don't like seeing you tear yourself down with lies." Ji mumbled.

"I'm sorry you're going through this... Have you two... talked at all?" Hyunjin asked.

"No. I'm trying to avoid that. I already got my heart ripped out once, I don't want to go through it again." You nearly sobbed, thinking back to how he approached you in the elevator. All he said was your name, but his voice was filled with such strong emotions that you couldn't decipher. You'd just assumed it was still regret, and ran out of there as fast as you could. 

Hyunjin rubbed your knee comfortingly, "But maybe talking would help... I'm not trying to make excuses for him. He should've spoken up at that point, offered some sort of explanation or reassurance, something. That's on him for not opening his mouth, you'd obviously be confused about the whole thing. I don't know if you're interested in fixing things and talking it out, or even remaining friends with him. Regardless, I feel like some sort of closure would help you and help him. And unfortunately that does involve talking it out."

You nodded your head, "It probably would, but I don't feel like I'm ready. You didn't see his eyes. I can't handle it if he looks at me like that again." You whispered the next sentence, "I don't want anyone to look at me that way again. "

"I don't think Chan would ever be disgusted by you, I mean judging by the looks some of us have caught him giving you. He definitely finds you attractive, as he should." He smirked, making you give a breathy laugh through the tears, "Frankly, I'm shocked that you were even interested in him. I mean have you seen me?" He gestured to his face dramatically, turning from side to side and gave a few poses.

You and Ji both chuckled at him.

 "Or Felix? Even Innie lately is growing more into his features! Why not one of us?!" He nudged your leg with a laugh.

"HEY! If anyone gets to date my Jagi, it's obviously me. We'll be two hot, married best friends who suffer in abstinence, because we can't bring ourselves to consummate the marriage." Ji suddenly slurs, holding onto you tighter. 

Yeah, he was a little too quiet there for too long, the alcohol must've hit him.

You burst out laughing, and shove him away from you, "Gross Jiji!" 

"And thank you Hyune, but I feel like that can't be true. Even if he has checked me out, that's superficial. I mean we're human, we can feel a basic level of attraction to someone we see for only 2 seconds, and never get to see them again. When I say I like him, it's more than just a physical relationship. I know it's illogical, for so many reasons. Like I said, I barely even know him. There's been no attempt to even get on the same level, like how I know the rest of you. We barely talked, we had that huge argument, and he's always kept some distance from me... there's always been a detachment. So for me to want to be with him, even after all the signs of him wanting nothing to do with me? It's insane. He could never want that, could never want me. Not beyond a quick fuck apparently. And he couldn't even go through with that..."

You know you're starting to sound repetitive and bitter, and a little pathetic. But damn it, this hurts. And these thoughts were consuming your mind in a vicious continual cycle. 

Hyunjin just hummed, neither agreeing or disagreeing, "You know you can't help emotions y/n, they're borderline instinctual. Especially love, and I'm not saying you're in love with him, but to care for someone? That passion? It's got to count for some kind of love. It's such a powerful feeling, we have no control over it, it's humorlessly funny like that." 

You were listening to him talk intently, he was so poetic. Maybe it was the fact you were a little tipsy, but you were thinking that he should write more songs. More love songs specifically. 

"If we could control it, there'd be much less heartbreak in the world I think. Unrequited love wouldn't exist... With that in mind though, there'd be a lot less love overall. I mean think about it, love almost always comes with some sort of eventual pain. There'd be many people who'd just opt out altogether..." He paused for a moment before continuing, "And never discount things as impossible, everything is possible. I'm not saying this to try to give you hope or destroy your hope. I'm not saying this to persuade you either. I'm just saying sometimes things aren't so black and white. Grey exists too, and it's a pretty beautiful shade if you ask me. I think you should talk to him about it." He finished

You nodded and offered a smile, "Maybe I should, and thank you."

You gestured for him to join you and Ji on the couch, and he rested against you. His head on your shoulder, creating a momentary cuddle pile, with you sandwiched in the middle.

You were so grateful to these boys, helping to piece you back together when you felt so broken. And over something seemingly insignificant to most. Ji was physically comforting you, and Hyune was comforting you mentally and emotionally. He just seemed to understand the world on a different level, able to see perspectives that might not always be clear to most. His mind was a beautiful place, and you felt honored that he let you in. You both formed a special bond tonight, similar yet completely different to you and Ji.

And, oh Ji... he wasn't getting off scot free.

"And you," You looked up to Ji, who was looking down at you wide eyed, "You need to apologize for your behavior with Chan. I understand you want to protect me, and I love you for that. Immensely. But he's your leader. He's done and sacrificed so much for you and your members. I'm sure no one knows what's going through his head. Stop giving him such a hard time... I'll figure out a solution with him eventually... even if it's just practicing being civil with each other. For now, try not to take things out on him. I'm sorry I stopped coming around. That fault lies completely on me, and it was petty. I won't avoid anyone anymore, so promise me you'll apologize. And that means as soon as you see him!"

He looked at you, processing your words before answering, "...fine. But seriously... don't go dark on me again, Jagiya." He said quietly. 

You smiled, and snuggled up closer to him, "I won't, my poor baby."

The three of you continued chatting, catching up on all the crazy things you missed out on. Apparently a lot can happen in two weeks. You were angry you missed out on a weekend camping trip. Apparently they all had gotten so drunk, except Chan. And I.N. kept threatening to hit people with his shoe. They informed you that Chan was very quiet on the trip. He kept to himself mostly, and binge ate ice cream instead of sharing a drink with the rest. 

You couldn't get your mind off Hyunjin's words. Chan has been watching you? The amount of time you spent checking him out, you'd figured if that were true you would have noticed. Maybe he was sneakier than you thought. Then again, that night your eyes did meet more than once or twice... You kept catching him looking at you. Maybe what Hyune said was true.

You were stuffed, full of candy and sweets. And also a little tipsy. It was getting late. Close to an hour later, you sent them home in a rideshare, telling them both to text you when they get home. Then you made sure to text Minho, alerting him of exactly how drunk Han was, and apologizing. You knew he'd be the one stuck taking care of him, if there's anyone who loves Ji as much as you, it's Minho. He might love him even more, having known him for much longer than you did. If the boys didn't have such a busy schedule this week, you'd be able to have Ji and Jinnie spend the night and take care of them yourself. 

A weight was lifted off your shoulders, and you silently cursed yourself for hiding yourself away for so long. You always did that, and it never ended well. You really were thankful to Ji, you don't know what you'd do without him.

That night, you felt yourself drifting off to sleep quicker, easier. But even as slumber was pulling you in, Chan was still on your mind. 

Chan was sitting on the couch with Minho, having been forced out of his room and pushed to socialize. He hadn't done much, he was in his thoughts again. Occasionally entertaining the others with curt responses and short conversations here and there. They seemed to just be happy with his presence, and he was thankful for that.

Jisung and Hyunjin had gone to your house, and the unknown made him feel uneasy. He was happy though, because that meant you weren't cutting everyone off, you weren't done with the entire group, you were staying in their lives.

Everyone but the man that fucked up it would seem. Still, he felt relief. He wouldn't forgive himself if he was the cause of a valuable friendship lost for everyone.

The rest of the members had gone to sleep by now, but he and Minho were waiting for the two younger members to arrive home. You had texted Minho saying they were on their way back, and to take care of them as they were drunk. Jisung especially. 

He was wondering what was taking them so long, and he could tell Minho had some worry too. His leg shaking up and down. Then, as if on cue, Hyunjin bursts through the door. He has Hannie in his grasp, pulling him along as he tries to resist entering the dorm.

Hyune mumbled, "C'mon. You promised her." 

He started to feel flushed, and hot. What does that mean?

He gave Hannie a push towards Chan, and Minho gave a worried look to both of them. He was expecting the worst. Jisung was staring at his feet, playing with his fingers and biting his lip. 

Chan didn't think he could feel more disheartened than he already was, but it was apparently possible. Staring at Hannie in front of him, he looked so defeated. What had happened at your house?

Finally he looked up to Chan. And Chan was sure his face mirrored the younger ones anxiety. 

Then Han started tearing up, "I'm sorry Channie-hyung!" He wailed, and collapsed into Chan's arms. 

Chan was shocked, but he just held him close, and softly shushed him, trying to comfort him. He was trying to offer understanding and his own apologies. But Jisung ignored it babbled on, recanting his negative actions and harsh words. Chan respected the fact that he was apologizing, but he already knew why he had said the things he said. Why he had done the things he did. In fact, he held a sense of pride towards Hanji for it. It wasn't easy for him to stand up to Chan. And while, yes, he was being inappropriate from a certain viewpoint, he expected nothing less from the boy trying to protect his best friend. He couldn't be angry with him about that fact.

If anything he just felt more guilty that he had to protect you from Chan at all.

He continued slurring, stuttering, and sniffling in between talking. His words were barely coherent at this point, but Chan did catch one sentence.

"I thought I was losing her forever because of that night..."

Chan never felt more disappointed in himself, his entire being crumpled. Not only did he hurt you, he hurt Han. He's hurt the other members who grew to care for you just as much as he did. He never intended to hurt anyone, and instead he hurt many. It was all his fault.

With the help of Minho, they dragged Han to bed. Minho stayed with him, tucking him in, then getting him water and paracetamol for the morning. Minho stated he'd be spending the night in Han's room, just in case he was going to be sick. So Chan went out to check on Hyunjin, hoping he wasn't as inebriated but expecting as much. He found him in the kitchen, a bottle of water in one hand and a chip bag in the other.

"You feeling okay, Hyunjin?"

"Yeah, I didn't have as much as Han did..." He trailed off, "Neither did y/n." He was eyeing Chan as he continued, a glint in his eye while he said it.

Chan just nodded and kept silent, knowing he was trying to get at something. And it didn't feel like it was anything but teasing. Hyunjin wasn't having that though, he never did when people ignored what he had to say.

"Y/n made Han apologize you know," He started as he opened his chips, "I mean we both know he would've eventually. But she made him promise he would apologize as soon as he saw you."

That piqued his interest somewhat. He didn't view you as a mean person, but he figured you wouldn't mind seeing him distressed due to Han. In fact when he was standing in front of him, he was sure that he was about to get cussed out. By order of you, maybe. Considering Hyune said that Han promised you something. He wouldn't blame you, he deserved it after all.

But no. You were continuing to be your kind and sweet self. Even towards the person who upset you. He was confused.

"Why?" Chan finally whispered, more to himself than Hyune. 

"I believe her words were, 'he's done and sacrificed so much for you' and 'no one knows what's going through his head'. So she suggested that he, well more like intimidated him, to apologize." He said while dipping his hand into the bag of chips, "It was cute, really. She was almost... protective." 

With that he popped a chip in his mouth, and went off to bed, leaving Chan dumbstruck in the kitchen yet again.

His heart was thumping in his ears, unsure of how to interpret those words. But they meant something, right? Hyunjin was a tease, sure, but he must know what happened. He wasn't just teasing about this? Surely he wouldn’t go to that extent.

'No one knows what's going through his head.' 

You were right. No one knows. You don't know. He needed to talk to you, he needed to let you know. He needed to let you in, even if it was hard.

Suddenly he felt hope again. It was small and shriveled, but alive. He was sure with enough care and nourishment, something precious could bloom from it. 

The week flew by, and now it was nearing the weekend again. Things almost felt normal. You had returned to the office regularly, no longer working from home. Your time with Ji had gone back to normal, Jinnie often tagging along now. And the other members were glad you had started showing up again too. Everyone was excited to recommence the late night antics at their dorm tonight.

You couldn't help but notice Chan seemed relieved too, a little too relieved. Even though you clearly gave him the cold shoulder. It didn't seem to bother him. You obviously have an idea of why his attitude towards you changed drastically, but what you don't have an idea of is what his goal is. You can't necessarily say he's acting as if nothing had happened anymore, because of his new demeanors. But he still hasn't mentioned anything to you directly. His gall was starting to irritate you. His mixed signals were angering you. 

If you were to think logically and assume, maybe in his head, he had been attempting some sort of effort to 'fix' things. But you tried to shut it down every single time, still unsure of his reasoning. Because he still never brought up that night, and was acting as if nothing happened at all. As if his reasoning for trying to be more friendly didn't exist. It was ridiculous. 

Before that night, it was always you making sure to greet him first, you striking up small talk, you trying to crack jokes with him. All small and simple gestures, but gestures nonetheless. If only to keep things polite and civil. The tables seemed to have turned, and now he was initiating it all. In front of others you were short with him, but made sure to still be polite. There was a deeper detachment than before, and it didn't go unnoticed by the others either. Though they kept their mouths shut, only eyeing the interactions between you two. 

In your head you figured that he'd get the hint and stop trying so hard at whatever it was he was trying at. You hoped it would trigger a conversation about that night finally. It got to the point where it started to create an awkward vibe in the presence of the others. But no, he still wouldn't stop. He just amped it up, and now the dynamic was once again changing. 

He'd figured out the exact times you would take your breaks, and would manage to catch you before anyone else could. When you stepped off the elevator, he'd be waiting for you with a smile, and offer to buy you a snack. You'd decline, instead opting to take a small walk and stretch your legs. When you get back to your desk you'd find your favorite cookies on them, or your favorite candy bar, or your favorite drink from the vending machine. They were always wrapped nicely or bagged with a bow, with a note attached. It usually reads something like, 'don't forget to eat today! --Channie'. 

You would always hand them out to your co-workers, or offer the singular items to your office bestie, before crumpling the note and throwing it out. 

He'd taken to somehow always being there to hold a door open for you. Or trying to hold your bags when he caught you using the stairs instead of the elevator, actively trying to avoid him. Or when you were helping staff move the camera equipment from room to room, he'd try to take the load off your hands. It always ended in you snapping at him in a whisper. And him furrowing his brows like he didn't understand what he did wrong.

It's not that his actions were wrong, actually. They were the opposite, but why? Why was he doing all this, when he never did before. He was putting all this effort into acts of service, when all you wanted to do was talk. It was hard for you to bring it up, especially when he was acting so sweet yet pissing you off at the same time. 

You should've realized it'd be hard for him to bring it up too, but you didn't. Because of that, there was the Wednesday incident. 

You were heading home for the day, not having had a run in with Chan all day, and unsure how to feel about it. You were almost out the door when you heard heavy footsteps coming towards you from across the lobby, and your stomach twisted. 

Chan.

"Hey! Wait!" He said with a smile, "I'll walk you to your car." 

You'd had enough at that point. You rolled your eyes, and continued out the door. But you knew he'd catch up anyways. 

As his pace aligned with yours, he kept talking, "Sorry I couldn't catch you at all today, it was a busy one. It still is, I think I'll be stuck in the studio all night. Han too, we finally figured out the ho--"

"Chan!" You cut him off, "Really? What makes you think I'm in the mood to talk to you? What makes you think I was waiting for your presence at all? You don't need to apologize for being busy. We're at work. We're working. It's what we do." You spat out, more abrasive than you've ever been to him. 

He looked at you wide eyed, and you felt something akin to guilt pang in your chest. Immediately you ignored it, and kept walking. Only for him to latch onto your arm gently. 

"I don't understand." He said, discouragement lacing his voice. "I'm trying to... trying to--" 

"Trying to what? What exactly is it that you're trying to do? Because I can't figure it out. You're being so hot and cold, you went from one extreme to the other. I don't know how to decipher that."

"I just want things to go back to being okay again! I want us to be normal again." He said exasperated. 

"Okay?!" You chuckled, "Normal? Our normal was borderline avoiding each other, which I am keeping up with very well, thank you. Our normal was talking to each other out of necessity. Our normal was little to no interaction, unless we're in a group. Whatever you're trying at, it's not our normal!" You shouted.

"No, what I mean is-" but you cut him off again, too heated to think logically.

"Our normal definitely didn't include me against a wall, and your fingers inside me and around my throat. THAT is not our normal. And I know it made things uncomfortable. And I know you regret it. But how can you expect things to go back to being whatever you think 'okay' is, if we haven't even talked about it?" You took a second to suck air into your lungs that seemed to be burning with rage. 

"Instead you talk to me like that night never happened, and then you behave as if we've been best friends forever. You act as if that behavior, whatever your reason for it, isn't influenced by that night. You talk to me about things we never talked about before. We never caught up on how each other's day was, we never checked in with each other to make sure the other ate, we never took breaks together to get coffee or a snack and chat. You're expecting me to be the same as you, and ignore what happened. But I can't Chan, I can't do it. All I want is closure, instead it feels almost like I'm being led on. Before that happened, I was insignificant to your life. Our only connection being Ji! Then... then in an instant everything changed and then it changed again. It's confusing Chan. I'm lost here." 

The tears were brimming in your eyes, and his ears were the brightest red you've ever seen. The flush went to his cheeks, and down his neck, and the grip he had on your arm was trembling. He started to open his mouth again, but you were quick to stop him. You felt like all he would give you right now is excuses, and you weren't ready to hear that.

"Please, Chan. I'm the one who's trying. I'm trying to move past it, like you seem to want to. But it's harder for me. When I feel like this, all I want to do is go home and hide. I can't do that though, not again. I'm trying to be civil. I'm trying to be polite, for the sake of everyone in our lives. But you keep pushing for some sort of friendship we never had..." You felt the dampness on your cheeks now, and before you knew it, your last sentence slipped through, "And did it ever occur to you that I wanted more than a simple friendship?" 

At that he let your arm fall, and he took in a shaky breath. You figured now was the time he would say something, but he seemed frozen. Then he spoke in a soft tone.

"I'm so sorry y/n, I promise I can explain..."

That was it, your heart started to ache at the thought of his words. You weren't ready to be rejected again. So you rubbed your cheeks, one at a time, swiping the tears away and sniffling. He reached towards you again, stepping closer, but you stepped back. 

"I need to go."

And you left. You got in your car, and you held it all in. The whole drive home, you refused to let yourself process any of the conversation. Which in reality was less of a conversation, and more you blowing up on Chan. 

It wasn't until you stepped through your door that you sunk to the floor, back against your front door and started sobbing. You let it all out. The guilt for yelling at him. The despair over the rejection, that never left your heart. The embarrassment over the entire situation and how you were acting. Your unjust, pure anger. It all just came out in tears. You couldn't stop them, your only focus was on breathing when you could. 

You didn't know how long you stayed like that, hugging your knees and bawling your eyes out. But the sound of keys jingling, and the pressure of the door pushing against your back, is what snapped you out of that grief stricken daze.

"Oh, Jagiya..." You registered Hans voice as you stood up to move, you forgot you gave him keys to your place.

He scooped you into his chest, squeezing you tight. You held onto him, just as firm. 

"Wait..." You were confused, Chan said they both would be late in the studio, "What are you doing here?"

He pulled back and scanned your face as you sniffled. He sighs, and leads you into your kitchen, wetting a towel and dabbing at your puffy eyes and cheeks before drying them. Once you seemed to be in a pacified state, he continued. 

"An unintelligent kangaroo I happen to know, told me I should head home early and check on you. He seems to be more intelligent than I thought." He tried to make light of the situation, but guilt bubbled up in you once again. 

"Wanna talk about what happened?" He offered. 

And so you word vomited at him. Retelling the whole scene word for word, since the words were mostly your own. He listened, nodding when necessary, and humming in agreement to some parts. When you were done, you looked at him and waited. 

He was looking down with his arms crossed, leaning against your kitchen counter. He looked deep in thought. 

"Well?" You said desperately. 

"Well, I think it's good one of you finally broke the ice on it. You got it off your chest, you said what you needed to. Yeah, maybe you were rude. But now the door to talk about it finally was opened. However, maybe you should've heard him out. Seems like he could barely get a word in edgewise. If I know you when you're angry, which I do, I know you never planned on letting him speak. You always have to have the last word, my little attack chihuahua."

Then he poked your forehead, "Stubborn. Defensive. Both of you." 

You groaned, "I know, I know. I'm already beating myself up over it." 

"When will either of you learn? You don't need to beat yourself up over it, you just need to communicate. You missed your opportunity today, but that doesn't mean all hope is lost. I know he really wants to talk to you."

"Talk again?" You scrunch your face at the idea, even while knowing it had to happen.

"Apologize, is more like it." He retorted. 

Your face dropped, but you knew he was right. 

"Hey, you made me do it. And it was the right thing to do. Like you said, no matter how angry I am, I needed to apologize. The same rules apply to you... Plus I've been hesitant to say this but..."

"What?"

"If he wanted to stop in the middle of it all, he had every right to. I know it hurts but, no means no, you know?" 

Guilt flooded your veins yet again, are you really coming across as some sort of hostile person after facing a rejection? You suppose it was half right, which made you feel disappointed in yourself. You were no better than the men who throw tantrums when women reject them. In your mind though, you were more upset at ignoring it all. 

"I know that, and currently I'm not angry because sex didn't happen. I'm angry because I don't understand why it almost happened, and I want an explanation. I just want to know why he was so cold to me the entire time before it happened, and why he tried to act like nothing happened and was friendlier to me afterwards. If he wanted to stop because he changed his mind and wasn't feeling it, that's fine. But he could've said that, I'd be hurt because I like him so much, but I'd get over it. Why I'm upset now is because I don't like the mixed signals. I don't like the unknown. I want closure."

"To get closure you have to talk to him y/n, you avoid him just as much as he used to avoid you. Now that he's stopped, you're still avoiding him. And acting kind of rude to him, we've all seen it. The fake smiles don't really hide the contempt in your eyes. You're always valid in your emotions always, but I've recently learned that it's the reaction that you are held responsible for. That goes for him too, even though his reactions may not be as hostile as yours. His reaction of ignoring it, is just as hurtful to you. But... I have a feeling if you hear him out, you'll get your closure." 

Again, you knew he was right about it all. You knew you had been bitter and immature about the entire situation. You paced for a moment, thinking about how you could even apologize to him. He'd been trying to fix things, and talk just like you wanted. Why have you held on to all that anger for so long? You were in the wrong too, more so than he was. You needed to apologize quickly.

"Just take the night to process and decompress. You'll have plenty of opportunities to talk with him, especially since his mission in life lately is just that. Again, we've all noticed it, he can't seem to leave you alone."

"Do you know what he's up to?" You squint your eyes at Ji suspiciously. 

"He won't tell anyone exactly why he's doing what he's doing. But I have my own speculations, which I won't be sharing because I'm not trying to meddle and put ideas in your head. After talking with him a bit tonight, I don't think he's aiming to hurt you, that's for sure." 

You sighed again, and nodded. 

"Now. Dinner and comfort anime? I'm thinking.... Nana?" 

"God, yes please. I need a distraction from realizing how much of an asshole I was. That I was actually the one starting issues." You groan, and you both plop down the couch and start to order food. 

Ji went home half an hour ago, and you're now staring at your phone. Debating the text you typed up to Chan. Your finger was hovering over the send button. It would be better to apologize in person, but you weren't sure you could face him without some sort of emotional outburst anymore. It was something you needed to work on. So maybe smoothing things over through text before you spoke with him would help.  

You read it over one last time... God you sounded too professional, like you were talking to your boss. You hit send anyway, you weren't going to come up with anything better to say. You put your phone down, only for it to buzz a minute later.

Good... things are starting to get better. Or so you thought. 

You didn't see him at all on Thursday, nor spoke to him. You didn't see Jiji either, but he confirmed through text that Chan had been cooped up with him in the studio. You felt bad, knowing you probably added more stress to their jobs. Especially considering Ji ditched work yesterday to comfort you. 

Now it was Friday, and they were back at work in the studio again. Hyunjin was over yours because he finished up early, the both of you were just hanging out. Waiting for everyone else to get out. The nine of you were recommencing weekend get togethers.

"You should bring them food." Hyunjin, who was currently laying across your couch suggested.

He could sense your anxiety, constantly checking your phone for the time. He knew you wanted to talk to Chan, finally.

"I don't want to interrupt them, I already did that yesterday." You mumbled.

"Tch, like either of them would really view you as an interruption. They'd be elated."

"Ji? Yes, yes he would. You know things are weird between me and Chan though." You whined.

"Mmm, but this could be your chance to fix it." He suggested in a sing-song voice. 

You actually debated it, but you didn't want to prolong his work tonight by stealing time for a conversation. A most likely lengthy conversation. 

You looked at the clock, still debating and wondering if you had time. When you saw the time you realized it was much later than you thought. 

"Shit, forget food. We're going to be late." 

Hyunjin glanced at the time and nodded, "Alright, let's head to mine."

You grabbed your keys and headed for the door, Hyunjin followed and soon you both were in the car on the way to the dorm. 

Once you got there, and Hyunjin let you in, you realized everyone was already here, judging by the pile of shoes. It seemed, the majority were getting cleaned up and changed into fresh clothes. 

"I'm going to change too! I need to get out these jeans and into something comfier. Just make yourself at home!" He said while heading to his bedroom. 

You sat on the couch and started scrolling on your phone. You were laughing at a funny video when you heard someone walking down the hall. Of course Chan is the first to finish, and he decides to join you on the couch. He takes the seat next to you, like right next to you. 

"Um... Do you have to sit so close?" You say in the softest voice you could manage.

Remember. Stay level headed, no snapping, no meltdown, no blow ups. Don't yell. 

He looks at you a bit defeated, and moves to the other end of the couch. 

You sigh. Things were still touchy. It can't keep continuing on like this, it's too uncomfortable for you both. You have to apologize and make amends. It's now or never, but he speaks before you the chance. 

"Y/n. Is now a good time to talk?" He says in a serious tone, with a stern look on his face. 

You tense under his gaze, and your stomach feels like it's sinking. Was he that mad at you? You kind of understand why though. 

"S-sure." You stuttered.

His eyes darkened, tongue poking his cheek. He's getting shifty now, and glancing down the hallway.

 "Do you mind if we talk in private?" 

You suppose it would be even more uncomfortable if someone else happened across you two discussing this. So when he stands up and heads towards his room, you follow him into it. 

His room was neat. You'd never been in it before, and sure, you've seen the live streams. But it was a very different feeling, seeing it through a screen versus being inside it. 

He sits on his bed, and pats the spot next to him for you to sit. You opt for leaning against the door, arms crossed in front of you. You were feeling defensive still, and didn't want to push your limits. It was his turn to sigh now, as he hung his head.

"Y/n I meant it when I said I'm really tryi--"

"Can I say something first... and then I promised I won't interrupt you again."

He just nods, with his tongue poking his cheek again. You know you're pushing his buttons, but you felt you needed to apologize before anything. Now you decided to sit next to him, twisting your torso to face him. And he did the same to face you. 

"I'm sorry for the way I acted. It was incredibly childish." You sighed, "I know you had every right to change your mind, and I shouldn't have gotten so angry over it. I never meant to act so toxic towards you. I should've just accepted the fact that you wanted to stop and moved on. But the truth is... I've liked you for a while now. So when that happened, in my head, I took it as you reciprocating my feelings. Which doesn't make any sense, because you never knew of my feelings.”

Chan snorted a bit, trying to conceal a laugh.

“Then when you stopped, paired with the look on your face, it felt like you realized you made a mistake doing that with me. You looked like you were disgusted. Which I promise you, I now totally understand if that's the case. But it still hurt me... regardless, I shouldn't have reacted the way I did. So again, I'm sorry. I truly am. I hope you can forgive me." You managed to get it all out clearly, with a steady tone. 

He was staring at you with a thoughtful look on his face, soaking in your words, processing. Then he smirked, and that was the last thing you expected. 

"I guess you were acting a little bratty." He chuckled a bit. 

Then he reached for your hand, putting his on top of yours. You felt the fluttering in your stomach at his simple action. But you flipped your hand over anyways, palm up and letting him hold it.

"But y/n, you've got it all wrong, and it's partly my fault." He started, and your eyebrows furrowed, a look of confusion falling on your face.

"I like you too," he squeezed your hand gently, and it was oddly comforting, "The reason I stopped is because I didn't want you to think that all I wanted from you was sex. Because I want so much more." 

Were you dreaming? Is he really confessing right now? Even after how horrible you were towards him?

"I know the way I acted before doesn't exactly translate to me having feelings for you." He continued, "The truth is I was too scared to confess, until that night. The liquor gave me that extra boost of confidence, and you just... looked so beautiful. And the game we played, and catching you look my way multiple times. It almost confirmed to me that you wanted me too. Because I wanted you then and there. So when I saw you in the hallway, I thought it was my chance. But I let the lust take over."

Heat started to spread in your lower stomach at his words, and he kept going. 

"I wanted to do things the proper way. I wanted to confess, and ensure that you knew I was serious about you, and not a fling. I wanted to take you out on dates, and properly ask you to be mine. I should have just said it all that night. I got scared again though, and just froze. And I know the way I was acting right after was confusing, I didn't mean to give you mixed signals."

Your head was spinning with all the information he was sharing, it truly felt like you were in a daydream. Then you found your voice again.

"It felt like you were disgusted with me." You whispered, "And then you were acting so nonchalant about the whole thing, as if it never happened. I guess I was assuming things."

He cupped your cheek, and comfortingly rubbed his thumb against it

"I could never be disgusted by you, love."

You had to resist a shiver at him calling you that pet name.

"I wanted us both to be sober too. That's why I idiotically told you to drink water, and rest. And the next morning, I was so nervous because you were rushing to leave. You had tears in your eyes, I said the first thing to pop into my head. I was hoping to talk about everything that morning. But then you walked out the door, and I felt like I had no right to stop you.  Then Hannie was so mad at me, you stopped coming around. I felt like I fucked everything up and I lost all hope for a while." He sounded distraught.

“Until Hannie argued with me, yelling at me to fix things. He outright put the entire blame on me, and he did this in front of everyone. So that experience paired with your disappearance from our lives, especially Hannies life. He was so lost without you, I knew I had to try and fix it right away. I had been wanting to, I was just so unsure how to go about it. But Han's words pushed me to just go for it."

You took the opportunity to scoot closer to him, side by side now. He threw his arm around your waist. 

"The elevator... ugh. I was just so hurt, I was so sure that you were going to come up with excuses, try to let me down easy. I was terrified of the rejection. I had no idea, I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing, we were both a little clueless about everything."

"I guess we were just a little stupid, huh?" You laughed.

He chuckled, "Just a bit."

"Then when Hyunjin happened to mention something, that's when I fully had hope again. So I tried to approach you, and be friendly, and get you snacks. I tried to help you out at work when I could. I was still unsure of how to bring it up to you." He admitted.

You felt so ashamed, "And then I went and yelled at you. I didn't even let you speak, ugh. I'm so sorry." 

"Again with the apologizing," He chuckled, "I told you, we were just confused about it. There was a lot of miscommunication... when we did talk anyways."

"I know, I was feeling and throwing mixed signals. All I wanted the entire time was to talk about it. Yet, I tried to avoid you at all costs. It doesn't exactly make sense. God, I was so... so childish."

"You were feisty is what you were. And I'm sure you still are." He joked.

You giggled. It was unbelievable how understanding he was. It was more shocking how wrong you were about his feelings. You had completely misconstrued everything. Assuming the worst. You couldn't be happier about being so wrong.

Nuzzling into his chest, and wrapping your arm around his torso, had him humming contently. But then you thought of what he said earlier. 

"What did Hyunjin say...?"

He cleared his throat, "When you made Hannie apologize to me, Jin said that you were acting almost protective over me. It made me think that I had a chance of proving my feelings for you."

"So that's the true reason why you were so friendly, and constantly getting me things and trying to help me out. You were lowkey trying to confess.” You looked up to him smiling.

He was blushing now, "Yeah, but I realize I was still doing things a little out of order. I'm terrible at communicating I guess." 

"Channie..." you said for the first time, and his blush got deeper, "I know it means a lot to you to do things traditionally. And I appreciate the effort you put in to accomplish that. But to me, it doesn't matter as much. We could've figured everything out afterwards." You said softly, and he was smiling down at you. 

"I guess I should catch up to the modern age." He joked. 

"Never! You prove that chivalry isn't dead. I love that you're a romanticist. Don't change." You laughed, "And... the communication problems? That's something we can both work on. I need to fix that in me too."

You felt him tense, and he caught your chin between his fingers, pushing you to look up at him further. You felt the warmth of his breathing spread across your face, he had that same look on his face as when he leant in to kiss you that night. Wetness was now pooling in your panties, and you had to resist clenching your thighs together. He was so in tune with your body language, and he caught it last time. You're sure he would notice again. You didn't want him to think you were rushing him into sex.

"So... does that mean you want to give us a go?" He was so serious when he said it, you could see the glint of excitement in his eyes though. 

"Of course, it's a dream come true." You smiled at him.

He was quick to bring his lips to yours, kissing you sweetly, softly. You sighed into the kiss, and felt like you were melting into him as you turned your body towards him more. You brought your hands up, one resting on the side of his neck, the other on his shoulder. He brought his other hand to the back of your head, and combed his fingers into your curls. 

He pulled you closer, deepening the kiss, licking your bottom lip. Your tongue met his, and soon you were wrestling against his for dominance. He started leaning you back against his bed, adjusting himself on top of you, knees on either side of your thighs. His hands roamed your body and he never broke away from your lips. You were nearly panting into his mouth, giving up and allowing him to explore your mouth. Your hands clutching his shirt like it would save you. The kiss was messy, downright sloppy, and you loved it. You were both desperate for this.

You wanted to imprint his touch into your mind. Every area he grazed made you feel tingly all over. Your entire body was oversensitive for him. You'd never felt like this with anyone else. 

Then he was playing with the hem of your shirt, his fingers grazing your stomach. You mewled at that, and he groaned. It was so high pitched it nearly sounded like a whimper. 

"Please... I still want you." He whispered against your lips. 

You were breathing heavy, chest heaving. You couldn't help it when your hips bucked up, letting yourself get consumed by lust, "Yes, god yes. I need you."

He re-positioned himself, lowering his body onto yours and letting his hips grind into you. You could feel his length against you through his shorts, and you whined. Even this felt like ecstasy, he almost made you cum last time from dry humping. He was so skilled at making sure you got friction exactly where you needed it. It was driving you feral. 

His lips attached to your neck, kissing, sucking, and biting his way down to your chest. His hand groped your breast, kneading it. Then he rolled over, flipping your position, so you were on top of him. It was your turn to grind your hips, your core rubbing directly on his erection. He threw his head back, mouth hanging open. His hands gripped your waist, helping you move against him. 

Things felt less rushed this time around. It felt like all time stopped, and the only thing that existed in the world was you and him. You wanted to be lost in this passion with him forever. The high he made you feel, made your head all hazy with desire. 

"Fuck..." He whispered as he looked up at you, seeing how fucked out you looked already. 

His hands slipped underneath your shirt, pulling it up. You took the hint and ripped it off, unclasping your bra afterwards. 

You had to admit, you felt your face flush again, at being exposed to him. But he soon wiped the thought from your mind, leaning up and placing soft kisses all over your chest. He kissed up to your collar bones, he kissed each mound, kissed in between them, he even kissed your nipples so gently. 

You were learning he was a tease.

One hand was kneading your breast again, the other braced against your back. Then his lips closed around one of your nipples, and his hot tongue swirled around it. His hand now playing with the other. Pinching, flicking, and rubbing. He braced the hand against your back, pushing you into him more, while he sucked your nipple harshly. You whimpered, and your hips started rolling against him again.

He pulled off with a pop, and mumbled "I could worship these tits love, all of you is so gorgeous."

His words made you blush, and then he pushed you onto your back again. He clearly wasn't scared to manhandle you at all. He was quickly unbuttoning and unzipping your jeans.

"Need to tase you..." He mumbled again.

You liked needy Chan, somehow he kept the perfect balance of dominant yet deprived for you. He positioned himself between your legs, kissing and licking every inch of them. He held your inner thigh, pushing your legs apart to expose your panties. He placed a kiss on your clothed center, and groaned at the wet spot that was already there. His tongue peeked out, and he licked a slow stripe up, making your underwear wetter. Your eyes rolled back and you sighed, craving more.

And did you mention that you loved how vocal he was? 

He licked his lips as he glanced up at you, mumbling "Taste so good, 'M gonna be addicted. Wanna be between your thighs all the time."

Then he spoke more clearly, with a smirk on his face "You're going to sit on my face one day. I want you to ride it."

You whined at the thought, and pushed your hips up, searching for friction. He took the opportunity to slide your panties to the side, and his tongue slid between your folds immediately. 

You moaned loudly as his tongue flicked against your clit. You felt like you were on fire, yet shivering at the goosebumps spreading all over your body. Your hand reached down to his hair, and he groaned again, making his lips vibrate against you. 

"Mmm... fuck." You moaned as you rocked your hips against his face. 

He has no objections, but he momentarily paused to rip your panties off. Then he wraps his arms around each thigh, forcing you to open wider for him. He buried his face in you, letting his tongue dip into your entrance. 

You gasped at the intrusion, your hand squeezing tighter into his hair. It had you nearly wailing. You'd never felt that before, and you think you could cum from it.

When his lips closed around your clit, he sucked. You were panting, feeling that familiar pleasure slowly coil in your lower abdomen. 

He wasn't shy at all about devouring you, making slurping and squelching sounds. He brought his hand to your entrance, and slipped two fingers inside. You moaned, and he let you adjust before curling his fingers and pumping into you. Your orgasm is building faster now. 

Writhing on the bed, and clutching his sheets, he did his best to keep you still. You were a moaning and whining mess. You couldn't help but be loud. His hand moved faster, as the tip of his tongue flicked at your clit. It was all too much as you felt your climax wash over your. You let out a desperate groan, your legs quivering as his hand squeezed your thigh tighter, preventing you from squeezing your legs shut.

Once you whimpered at the overstimulation, he stopped. Giving your clit one last kiss, sending one last shiver up your spine. Your chest was heaving, you were out of breath. He climbed up your body, wiping your juices and his saliva off his chin with the back of his hand. When he kissed you again, you could taste yourself on him, and you hummed as you licked against his tongue.

He kept kissing you, and you tugged at his shirt, "No fair, I'm completely naked and you're fully dressed."

He chuckled and sat up, pulling his shirt off. You reached up to feel his abs, fingers tracing between each muscle. You moved up to his pecks, and when your palm grazed against his nipple, he hissed. Picking up on it, it was your turn to kiss his chest, making sure to pay special attention to his nipples. Your tongue lapping at them, and then sucking them. 

He quickly turned into a whining mess. His voice making you grow wetter, and clenching around nothing. 

You really loved how vocal he was.

He made quick work of pulling his pants and boxers off, and leaned back down to kiss you. The pressure of his weight on top of you was comforting, and you placed your arms on his shoulders. His cock twitched against your core, and you were mewling again. 

He smiled against your lips and whispered, "Is my love needy right now?"

Then his fingers wrapped around your neck, and you bit your lip. Your hand was now on top of his, making him squeeze lightly, and you whined.

"Does my baby girl want to be choked right now?”

"Chan if you don't fuck me right now, I swear I'll--"

Before you could finish, he was gripping the base of his member. Sliding into you at a steady pace, and you gasped. He lets you adjust again. The length surprised you, and his girth stretched you deliciously. You always knew this man was hung. 

His hand never left your throat, and he did add more pressure around it. But you still desperately needed more.

He must've read your mind, or at least your face, "You're really into breathplay huh? Need it harder?"

Your mind was clouded in pleasure, you felt so full having him inside you. His hand on your throat only heightens it. So you nodded as best you could. 

"Remember, I need the words baby girl." 

"Yes, yes, fuck yes." You moaned.

He nearly growled as he pulled out and snapped his hips into you sharply. He kept pumping into you. Rolling his hips into you roughly, skin slapping against skin. His hand squeezed your throat tightly, cutting off all oxygen and then easing up, so you could get a proper breath in. Everything felt blissful, consumed by need. 

Your hips started rolling, meeting each of his thrusts. You were focused on making sure you both got off.

He had his eyes closed, face scrunched in concentration and panting, "Shit, you're so wet love. So tight, gonna cum too fast."

You clenched around him hearing that, and let out another whimper. You felt it building up in you again. His pace became uneven, and you knew he was nearing his climax. 

"Please..." he begged with a strangled whine, "Cum with me, can't hold on much longer."

"Channie... so close, just a little more." You panted back.

He removed his hand from around your neck and down to your clit, rubbing quickly in little circles. That was all you needed to let go, becoming a moaning and quivering mess. Your walls were clenching around him again, as you rode out your orgasm. 

He groans, hips stuttering before he pulls out of you. Giving himself a few pumps, he let out a loud and strangled cry as he finished. He was spurting ropes of cum all over your stomach, only slowing when the last of it was dripping down his cock and onto his fingers.

It was so sensual, you grabbed his hand and sucked them into your mouth. Making sure to lick them clean, keeping eye contact with him. His lips parted and he was looking at you so affectionately. When you finally popped them out of your mouth, he immediately caressed your face.

"How are you so perfect?" He murmured. 

He bent down and pressed a gentle kiss against your lips, and you slowly moved yours with his. This kiss was different, less desperate and more so savoring the moment. You felt lost in him. Nothing else mattered right now but you and him, the rest of the world melted away. You two were in your own bubble, and you couldn't be happier. 

When he pulled away, he spoke "That was amazing, my love." 

"It was." You giggled.

"I'm sorry it was a little rushed, I was craving you so bad." He said as he rested his head in the crook of your neck, a little embarrassed. 

Your fingers brushed through his hair. He was right, it was rushed on both ends. You both were a little clumsy, figuring out each other's bodies for the first time. But that doesn't mean the sex was horrible, he made you cum twice. 

"We'll have plenty of chances to take our time with each other. I think after everything, we were both hopelessly desperate for each other, and like you said. It was amazing Channie."

"I like hearing Channie coming from you, as different as it is." 

"Mmmm, I have to think of another pet name. You claimed 'love' already." 

He just chuckled, "You can call me whatever you want, Channie, love, Jagi. I don't mind."

"I think Ji would keel over if I called you Jagi instead of him." You giggled.

"Hannie can deal with it, he's not the only man in your life that's close to you anymore." 

Chan got up to get you a towel, and cleaned you up.

You felt satisfied, laying down facing each other, and still embracing. 

"So, about the other chances you mentioned. Maybe we can try out the edging you like so much. And all it takes for me to truly dom you is flipping a switch in my head and not holding back. I'm just not sure you can handle it."

"I can handle it, I'll be your perfect little sub." You snuggle closer to him.

"Hmmm, why do I doubt that for some reason. We already know how bratty you are."

"That just means more punishments for me, which I'm sure we'll both love."

"Is that so?" He started leaning in to kiss you.

Suddenly there was banging on the door. 

"Are you two finished? I'm assuming your finished since all the noise stopped." Hanji yelled.

You looked wide eyed at Chan and he had a smug smile on his face.

"We'd like you to join us, we're playing cards against humanity tonight. Besides it's my time with my Jagi again, I'd like to be able to see you." Jiji shouted through the door. 

You both scrambled to dress yourselves. He gave you his t-shirt, and some sweats. Slipping on nearly the same outfit, you opened the door to a pouting Ji. His face slowly transformed into a smirk as he looked you up and down. 

"Better fix your sex hair babes, although I guess there’s no hiding your hickies and bruises though." He leaned in and whispered, "I didn't know you liked it that rough, his fingers are clear as day on your neck. You nympho." He poked your tummy repeatedly. 

You nudged him and rolled your eyes, "Shut up." 

Channie came up behind you, and wrapped his arms around your waist, giving you a back hug. Just like that, Ji was back to pouting. 

"This means I have to share my cuddle time, ugh." He whined.

Chan just patted the top of his head, laughing, "You'll get used to it." 

"Hmph. I'm not going to stop calling her Jagi or babe or any other pet names. I was here first!" He stated.

Chan just chuckled, "I wouldn't expect you to Hannie."

He just turned around, still pouting, and headed back to the living room. You and Channie followed behind him, hand in hand. Eyes glued to each other, and smiling. 

"Oh great, we have to deal with this now, on top of you and Han overdosing us with PDA?" Seungmin complained. 

"I just knew something was up with you two, it's about time you fixed it." Innie commented. 

"Yeah, and by the sound of it. Making up went really well." Changbin jokes, then his eyes wander to your neck, "You know, for as much noise you two were making, I'd never expect you'd be choking her in there."

You blushed intensely, and Channie cleared his throat, smiling, and scratching the back of his head. The group laughed, and you and Chan took your seats. Which was him sitting in the chair as usual, and you sitting in his lap. 

"God, this is going to take getting used to." Hyunjin said with a smirk. 

"You act like you didn't partially help orchestrate this whole thing." Jiji teased. 

"What?!" Felix snapped, "And you didn't tell me?" Now he was pouting. 

"It wasn't my business to tell. Besides, I only nudged them a little bit to communicate. They both seriously lack in that area." Hyune responded. 

"Mmhm, I have to agree with that." Minho chimed in with a smug smile. 

"Alright, alright. Enough poking fun at us. All that matters is that things can go back to normal." Chan said. 

You faced him, "I still don't think this was our normal before, but it definitely can be our new normal now." 

He smiled and gave you a peck on the lips, to which the entire room started gagging, and acting disgusted. They got distracted while setting up the card game, Chan whispered something in your ear. 

"I know we've been doing things abnormally, and this might be a little fast. And we also have a lot more to talk about, but... Will you be mine?" 

You break out into a huge smile, and press your lips to his ear, "Of course Channie. I'd love nothing more than to be your girlfriend."

He turned his head to kiss you again, except this time it wasn't a peck. Your lips moved in sync for a few seconds, and everyone once again noticed. 

"Yeah, you were right Hyune. This is going to take A LOT of getting used to." Felix agreed.

"I don't think I've ever seen Chan-hyung like this before... It's a little weird." Innie chimed in.

"That's because he hasn't done anything like this before. Outright claiming someone? That's new territory for him." Minho said.

"No wonder it was so hard for him to pursue y/n." Seungmin said, "Although I really did have a feeling it was going to be Hannie that ended up with her."

Ji made a face, "Never. Our love isn't romantic, even though we both love skinship."

They were interrupted by the wet sounds of you both still making out. 

 Ji started pouting again, shouting, "Yah! Are we going to play or what? Surely you can both hold off until later, sheesh." 

You pulled away and you and Channie laughed.

"Alright, let's play!" You said excitedly. 

Maybe this was new territory for you, but you felt comfortable in it already. You were so glad that you and Channie were able to find solace in each other. Maybe you guys weren't quite in love yet, but you were elated that he returned your feelings fully.  

This is the normal that Chan was talking about, and you wouldn't dream of having it any other way.

Tag List: @jeonginsleftcheek @solandiszale @schniti-is-in-the-house @helloimacalumgirl @jagibangbangchan

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@bubblepop-stay @ohhlittlegirl @ang4lheart @spnwinchestersd

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But again, please be gentle in your criticism

[bananayuyu]

All in Black

Pairing: Yunho x f reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 7.0k

Summary: Who knew grad school would bring you the hottest man you'd ever met?

Warnings: MDNI, smut, fingering, anal fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (oops), alcohol consumption, I think that's all

A/n: That damn black tank does things to me... this was severe self indulgence, I hope y'all enjoy <3 (I didn't edit this one so sorry for mistakes)

Read it on ao3

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The first month of grad school, it hit you like a train.

Maybe you had partied a lot in college.

It really would depend who you asked. It was what everyone around you did, as far as you could tell. At least you avoided the worst of it, the blackouts or harder drugs or strange off campus house parties where no one knew anyone. At least you stuck to your friends, the dorms, the familiar safety of campus. You'd had fun; you were young, in need of time, exploration, a chance to see the world and all it had to offer. Maybe that meant a few too many shots, sometimes, or a regrettable hookup or two. Maybe it meant hauling your best friend away from that stupid boy she was hung up on, stumbling back to your dorm in a fit of giggles and tears.

Maybe you thought you were over it, by the time senior year came. The summer after graduation you spent working, and with so many of your close friends already off to their new lives, you'd gone out less and less, staying in instead and preparing for your future.

Maybe this was growing up, you thought.

But the new city had you questioning everything. It had you missing those messy nights, those tight dresses and uncomfortable heels, those looks you shot your bestie when you knew someone was coming on to you. You miss indulging in it all, missed talking in hushed tones to the tall, gorgeous history major and asking him every possible question you could till his eyes had scanned every inch of you. You missed giggling at night in the dorm, keeping each other up with replays of your messy make-outs in the halls, an RA sternly barking at you to get your 'obviously drunk asses' out of there. And you missed hands on your hips, lips on your neck, that feeling of being so lost in someone you forgot every single thing you'd studied that day...

Why had he been on your mind so much the last three weeks?

Maybe it wasn't just the new city, that had caught you in your head and spun you for a ride.

"Hey, are you busy tonight?" your best friend called across the living room as you stood by the stove, mending your stir fry. Her face was buried in her phone, legs crossed over each other as she lounged on the purple couch, your shared apartment the epitome of colorful and girly.

"No, I don't think so, why?" you asked, adding noodles to the pan, a sharp hiss following as they hit the sizzling surface.

"Well, Mingi just texted me..." she trailed off, and you knew her face was scrunched up in an adorable smile, even though you couldn't see her.

"Oh really? He did?" you responded, laughter filling the air between you.

"He said they're having a little party at their house tonight," she continued, sitting herself up and finally looking your way.

"And?" you asked, making eye contact with her, your eyebrows slightly raised.

"He said he hopes to see me there," she laughed, brushing her long hair out of her face.

"And you need me to come for moral support?" you joked, turning off the heat on the stove and moving to grab plates from the cabinet.

"Well, yeah, that, and also, he said-" she paused a moment, grabbing her phone again and opening it. "He said, and bring that little friend of yours, Yunho wants to see her again."

"Hannah," you sighed, eyes shooting her way. "Don't fuck with me, I'll go with you to wing-woman, I don't mind."

"I'm not fucking with you, seriously! Come look!" She held out her phone, and instantly the plates were forgotten as you walked over. Leaning down and squinting at her phone, you peered at the texts on the screen in front of you.

S.M.G: We're having a little party at our house tonight, I hope to see you there S.M.G: Oh and Han, bring that little friend of yours, Yunho wants to see her again

And as you stared at the screen, another text came through, followed by another.

S.M.G: Sorry if calling her your little friend sounds mean S.M.G: That's just what Yunho called her, so, yeah. And she is quite little

"Oh my god," you laughed, shaking your head and standing. You feigned disinterest, more to yourself that your best friend, but you couldn't deny that seeing his name made something in you flip with excitement.

"What?" Hannah asked, but her question was answered as soon as she peered at the new texts herself. Then she laughed again, prompting you to ask the same question.

"What?"

She just turned her phone to you, and you squinted again.

S.M.G: You're both quite little. A pair of little chicks S.M.G: Sorry, idk what tf that was S.M.G: We'd love to see you both

"Girl, he's so obsessed with you," you chuckle as you stand, making your way back to kitchen.

"He's so weird," she says behind you, but you hear the adoration in her voice, hear the way she can't fight the smile that's forming.

"Don't pretend you don't love it," you responded, finally grabbing the plates now, grabbing some noodles from the pan for each of you.

"Ah, shit, I burnt it a bit on the bottom," you said, the slightly bitter smell wafting up to your nose.

"How will I ever survive," Hannah cried, a hand coming to her forehead as she swooned into the couch again.

"It's your fault for distracting me with those damn texts, missy," you shot back, fighting off laughter.

"My bad," she sang out behind you, and when your faces met she was pouting.

<><><><><><><><><>

"I know you're not really into partying anymore," Hannah said, as you both stood at the sink, washing and drying your dirty dishes.

"I guess not," you replied, looking over to her.

"What I mean is, if you don't want to come tonight, you don't have to. I just always invite you to everything, you know. Cause I love to have you there. But it doesn't mean you have to come." The sappiness wasn't surprising from her; you'd never expected to become best friends with your randomly-assigned freshmen roommate, but every since the day you'd met you'd learned what being best friends with someone could really feel like. The unending support, the companionship. She almost felt like more than you deserved, sometimes.

"Does it seem like I don't want to come?" you asked.

"I just, I don't know if Yunho did anything weird last time we were there, or anything, and I don't want you to feel pressured to go there if he did."

"Oh, Han, no. Nothing weird happened."

"You just hadn't said anything about him, so I wondered if, I don't know, he made you feel weird."

"You're too sweet for this world," you replied, shaking your head at her worry and sincerity.

"So you just don't really like him?" she asked.

"No, I-" you stopped yourself, remembering that night from three weeks ago. "I've just been busy as hell since then, we haven't really had a chance to just sit down and talk. And-" you hesitated again, a thought suddenly bubbling up quickly within you. "He also only talked to me for like ten minutes that night, I'm surprised he's telling Mingi he wants to see me."

"It sounds like he's obsessed, too," she replied, giggling.

"I don't know about that," you sighed, but you couldn't help the slight color that rose in your cheeks.

"Oh, girl, please. Of course he is," she replied, nudging your hip with hers.

"We'll see, I guess," you chuckled, drying the last of your dishes, placing the hand towel back on the handle of the oven. "I hope he likes black dresses," you laughed, and your best friend gave you a knowing smirk, making her way to her room to grab her outfit and makeup for the evening.

You'd both noticed it immediately when you'd met, how you were literally exactly the same size. The clothes sharing started pretty much immediately, and it was convenient at first, as laundry days were hard to come by freshman year. The first time you went out you both laughed as you realized you owned the exact same little black dress; and maybe it was surprising, maybe it wasn't, but you both loved it. You hit the party that night dressed almost identical, your matching brunette waves flowing in the breeze behind you as you made your way to the frat house. You looked so similar, everyone that night had trouble telling you apart. So you kept doing it; every time you went out, you matched your outfits in some way, even if it was minor.

Then during sophomore year you both gained just a little bit of weight at almost the same time, and it really felt like the universe telling you something. You both went out to shop for new dresses together. Those old ones from high school just didn't fit your now twenty year old bodies, and it was time for a change, anyway.

It had been a while since you'd been out, so you both knew. It was those matching scrappy black dresses you'd be wearing, those ones that hugged your curves so perfectly and made you feel like a perfect little barbie doll. You'd pair yours with your plat form Mary Janes; Hannah would be in her favorite black strappy heels, the ones that made her a few inches taller than you.

It was a joyful hour, getting ready. You hadn't sat down to do a full face of makeup in so long; you couldn't even recall the last time, which must have been nearly a year ago, at this point. You were almost certain you'd both show up overdressed, but you were having too much fun. You added heavy liner to your eyes, a glittery highlight to your cheeks. Hannah drew a tiny heart on your cheek with her gel liner, and you put a pink kiss on her cheek, reapplying your lipstick after you did.

"Do you wanna pregame at all?" she asked you as you both finally pulled on your shoes, the final touch to your outfits.

"Honestly, I don't even feel like drinking tonight," you laughed, looking up at her.

"Dude, me neither. My stomach's been all sensitive today," she said, grabbing your black purse from the hook it rested on.

"Your period is coming, then," you said, laughing at the way her faced scrunched up.

"You read my body better than I do," she pouted, reaching inside your bag to check in the inner pocket. "I'm gonna go get some tampons to put in here, just in case. Then we'll go, yeah?"

"Yeah, I'll put your phone and keys in here," you said, grabbing the purse from her, as she walked to the bathroom to grab the tampons.

<><><><><><><><><>

You both knocked on their front door, the wood sounding dull and flimsy under your fists.

The graduate student housing wasn't exactly brand new, but the boys had made a good effort of making the inside of their place nicer than most. You'd only been over a few times, but you'd seen everything the bottom floor had to offer: their kitchen, living room, and Mingi's bedroom, and the bathroom that sat right beside it, just past the stair case.

The three bedrooms upstairs were a mystery to you, but judging by how clean they kept the bottom floor, you'd bet it wasn't as much of a disaster up there as one may expect.

It certainly surprised you the first time you were here. You and Hannah both walked in apprehensive that day.

"Hey! Come on in," Mingi answered the door, his wide smile flashing with a hint of mischief as he eyed Hannah up and down, the two of you walking in underneath his outstretched arm. "Glad you guys could make it," he said, nodding in your direction, an arm reaching out to take your purse.

"Can you put it in your room? It has my stuff in it," Hannah said to him, flashing doe eyes up in his direction for just a second, her lips in the whisper of a pout.

You almost couldn't contain the laughter, at watching Mingi fight off the smile on his face, how he looked so entranced by her already and it'd only been a few seconds.

"Of course, Han," he replied, stepping past you to put it where she'd asked.

With him out of sight you both finally took in your surroundings; a small party might have been an understatement, though it wasn't a rager by any means. There were more people in here than you expected, though, and you definitely realized you hadn't overdressed. Now you were very thankful you'd decided to go full out tonight; there must have been some special occasion being celebrated, because almost everyone was dressed to the nines.

"It's on my bed, if you need it," Mingi said as he returned, a hand sliding around Hannah's waist as he moved next to her. The two got lost in easy conversation immediately, but your eyes continued to trail across the space, across the living room full of people, peaking into the side of the kitchen that you could still see.

"Yunho's in the kitchen, y/n," Mingi said, and Hannah giggled, making you realize he'd had to say it twice.

"Oh, thanks," you nearly blushed, chuckling at your own lost thoughts. It had been a long, long time you'd been to a party with more than thirty people in attendance, and suddenly you realized you did miss this, even if you felt like you shouldn't anymore.

You squeezed Hannah's hand, then started snaking your way through the house, through the throng of people chatting and dancing in the living room. You had to bump past two tight groups of friends, all dancing and laughing and nearly spilling their drinks on each other, and the last time you did the girl turned around, eyes wide with apology.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry!" she said, grabbing onto your forearm briefly to steady herself. "I didn't see you there, you're so short!" Her words slightly slurred together, and her cheeks were the pinkish red that always accompanied a pale girl with one too many shots in her. It wasn't even that late yet; but you'd met this girl before, had a thousand conversations with her. You held back your laughter, as you always did, but couldn't help finding the whole thing adorably hilarious.

"You're good, it's fine," you said, making to talk past her again, but her arm didn't leave yours.

"You're so pretty by the way! And adorable! I meant you're short in a good way!"

There it was. The thing you missed most about running into random girls at parties, the way they shamelessly complimented you within an inch of your life if they'd had enough to drink.

"Oh, stop, you're so sweet!" you called back, leaning in to give her a quick hug. "Your dress looks stunning on you, by the way." Her hips were hugged by a dark blue satin number, which balanced against her pale hair and pale skin so beautifully.

"You should come dance with us once you get a drink!" she said, a huge smile breaking across her face as her friends all agreed, more of them shooting compliments your way.

"Definitely, I will!" you called, but just then the music swelled, and you couldn't hear each other as well, and maybe you were a little thankful for it. You bid her and her group goodbye, finally making it across to the kitchen. You peaked your head back a moment, catching Hannah's eye, Mingi's face low and next to her's as he obviously whispered something in her ear. You could see her cheeks redden even from across the room, and she winked at you quickly, before turning back around to him to respond.

Already you felt drawn into it all, and you hadn't seen him yet. You might go and dance with those girls later, you might not. You had no idea where this night would take you. R&B played through the speakers in their living room, and your hips swung on their own accord, the beat too groovy to ignore. You watched on for a moment as Mingi and Hannah got lost in each other, then turned towards the kitchen again, getting lost in a sight of your own.

There he was, just as Mingi said. In the kitchen, an arm outstretched above his head as he grabbed a stack of glasses from the highest shelf of their cabinets. His black tank left the muscles in his arm exposed; you could see his shoulder flex as he reached high, his bicep bulge as he brought the glasses down, balancing the heavy stack. There were two guys behind him, and one by one he poured them glasses of wine, each of them taking two as they exited the kitchen.

He still hadn't seen you, but you couldn't stop staring. As he leaned down into the open door of the fridge you caught the muscles in his back flex, and now you saw the tight black jeans he was wearing, his thighs on full display for your hungry eyes. On his feet were his black sneakers, ones you'd seen plenty of times, his favorite shoes. And just then as he stood up he caught sight of you finally, doing a subtle double take as he set down the beer he'd just grabbed on the counter.

"Hannah's little friend is here," you said as you finally walked closer, coming to rest your hip against the counter he was standing at, a few feet down from him. He raised his eyebrows in amusement, a tiny smile forming on his full lips, as he looked you up and down.

"Hey stranger," he said, cracking open his beer sharply, tossing the bottle cap in the sink. He stood and took a big swig, his opposite hand sliding in his pocket as he leaned back, the bubbles in the bottle fighting for escape. You watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, watched the way he wiped an extra drop from his lip once the bottle hit the counter again. His skin was almost shiny in the yellow light of the kitchen, and you could swear you could smell the sweat on him, the slightly musky smell making your insides flip more than once. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Got anything non-alcoholic?" you asked, already laughing at the question. His face screwed up in hesitance for a second, but then he turned to open the fridge again, peering through the shelves of beer and seltzers and random leftovers.

"Water?" he asked as he stood and closed the door, looking at you incredulously.

"That's fine, that sounds good," you chuckled.

"You want ice?" he asked, peering at you sideways, taking another quick swig of his beer.

"Sure, thanks," you breathed, so caught up in the sight of him, in his broad shoulders and chest just feet from you. You got to see his beautiful left arm again as he reached up for a glass, and he noticed every bit of you staring; he looked back over his shoulder as he filled your glass from the fridge door, catching your wide eyed gaze and making you feel caught out.

"So why haven't I seen you in three weeks?" he asked as he handed you the glass, your fingers brushing over each other for a moment. Against the ice-cold glass his fingers felt electric, your whole arm coming alive under his touch.

"What do you mean?" you responded, looking up at him as you took a sip, eyes trained on him.

"Hannah's been over every weekend," he answered, and you tilted your head again, your question still unanswered. "I though you two were kind of a package deal."

"We don't go everywhere together," you answered, rolling your eyes at him. "We're not that co-dependent. Plus, you know, her and Mingi..." You gestured with your hands, as if they could speak for you.

"Her and Mingi what?"

"They're dating, of course she's over here every weekend," you said. He just hummed in response, giving you an unreadable look. "What?" you asked, narrowing your eyes playfully.

"I told you to come with her, whenever you felt like it," he continued, taking another long drag of his beer.

"I've been busy," you shot back, not sure why it felt like he was probing, but enjoying the chance to play fight a little, if that's what he wanted.

"Oh really?" he eyed you, eyebrows raised. A mischievous glint ran through the deep brown of his irises, and it made you shiver in your tiny dress.

"I am studying literature, I do have to actually read a lot," you said, drawing out the syllables in the word.

"Ah, I see, I had no idea," he drawled back, rolling his eyes at you.

"I thought you might relate to that, mister," you answered, looking up at him with innocent sincerity.

"Of course I do, history is basically all reading," he responded, eyeing you. "But Saturday nights are my time off, to relax."

"How responsible of you," you joked.

"You should try it sometime."

"What, relaxing?" you asked, and he nodded his head. "Do I not seem relaxed?"

"Tonight you do," he chuckled, eyeing you up and down again.

"What's that supposed to mean?" you asked, arms crossing over your chest. You could see his eyes dart down for a moment, knowing the position was pushing your tits up even higher and making them nearly fall out of your tiny ensemble.

"Last time you didn't seem, you know, like this," he said, eyes coming back up to meet yours.

"Why, cause my dress didn't leave nothing to the imagination?"

He nearly spit out his drink, laughing at that. "No, cause you left so early."

"Cause I had work to do. And you just walked away, so..." you trailed off, now eyeing him with confusion.

"I told you I'd talk to you later, I had to help Jongho with something," he said.

"Yeah, and that doesn't at all sound like an excuse to walk away," you retorted, rolling your eyes again.

"Woah," he said, a soft look of genuine shock on your face. Maybe that last sentence had come out a little harsher than you'd meant it to, but you couldn't deny that it was disappointing when he'd done that. You'd told yourself that day it was just how things go. You wouldn't always get the person, even if they seemed definitely, totally into you.

As your thoughts wandered, Yunho kept his eye contact, even as a fellow partier stumbled through the kitchen to grab a seltzer form the fridge, nearly bumping into the two of you. You watched as they left the kitchen, a short sigh escaping your lips without you meaning for it to. As you met Yunho's eyes again he was still staring, still fixed on you so sharply.

"What?" you asked.

"You look really good in black," he said, smirk hitting his lips as he took another sip from his drink.

"Oh my god," you chuckled, shaking your head, but deep down all you could think was so do you.

"Let's stop arguing and go dance," he said, lifting up your glass of water to you, gently turning your shoulders with his hands and pushing you in the direction of the living room. You resisted, a little; you could't help it, and it made him laugh, that deep, sweet sound echoing in your ear as he pushed you just slightly harder.

<><><><><><><><><>

It had been too long since you were squeezed in the middle of too many dancing bodies, smashed between people you barely knew.

As the night turned darker the boys turned up the music, the playlist changing to more hip hop and pop, the whole room lighting up with singing and rapping and cheers. You were smashed between Yunho and Hannah, and another girl whose name you couldn't hear over the music, even as she screamed it at you. It didn't take long for Yunho's hands to find your hips, or your hands to find his arms, his chest, his stomach.

You couldn't keep them off of him. Not when you were pressed together and you really had no other choice. You were thankful for your water then; the room was hot and sweaty with so many bodies in close quarters, and the heat of Yunho's body against yours was doing nothing to help the sheen forming on every inch of your skin.

It was magical, just what you needed. You had missed this, you really had. You kept reaching out to your best friend, singing and dancing and screaming with her, hoping she understood that really what you were saying was thank you, thank you, thank you so freaking much.

It was intoxicating, but there was something missing; you hated to admit it, but thrashing about in a group of people just wasn't the same without a little buzz. You didn't need much, but the slight light headedness and warmth in your chest that always accompanied a drink or two was just the thing to take a night like this from great to amazing. You knew you'd need to sneak out of the sea of bodies soon, and head back to the kitchen to find something good. But you'd wait till this song was over, wait until the bodies weren't so chaotic in their movement.

But then you stared up, at the high cheeks in front of you, at the deep chocolate eyes and dirty blonde hair, and had another idea. As he raised his beer to his lips you reached up to grab it, and in the shock of the moment you were able to snatch it away too easily. You brought it down to your level, taking a deep swig of it, the taste more bitter and sharp than you were expecting. But it was not unpleasant; if you had to guess it was a nice beer of some kind, not something cheap and flimsy.

"Hey, I thought you didn't want any alcohol!" Yunho called down to you, trying to reach for it.

"I do now!" you yelled back, smirk on your lips as you took another long sip.

"Hey, hey, that's the last bottle of the nice German beer my uncle got for me, y/n-"

But you cut him off, spinning in an instant and making a run for it, wanting nothing more than to finish this precious beer right in front of his eyes, and see what he'd do about it. It was a challenge pushing through the crowd, but you were at an advantage; you were quite small, and could duck under raised arms and flailing drinks. Behind you Yunho didn't fare so well, his height a massive disadvantage in this moment.

Once you broke free of the crowd you found yourself near the front door again, and with nowhere else to run you made for the stairs. Your platform shoes weighed heavy on your feet as you climbed, but the adrenaline coursing through you did wonders to propel you up the stairs, your breath barely affected as you crested the top. You could hear heavy footsteps behind you now, and you shrieked in terror, a deep laugh drifting up through the air behind you. Suddenly you found yourself somewhere you'd never been before, and unsure of where to go next you just kept running, a bit down the hallway stretching out in front of you.

He was closing in now, you could feel it, but you were having too much fun with the chase to let this go. A door to your left was ajar, and on a whim you decided to run through it, knowing full well it was probably a dead end. As you busted in you realized it was the upstairs bathroom, your hand met with the cold tile countertop by the sink. You spun and braced for impact, taking the beer again to your lips to try to finish it all, savor every last bit of it.

"Fuck you," Yunho grumbled as he stumbled in after you, shaking his head and grabbing the beer from you with ease, this time. You hadn't managed to finish it; instead he was the one to do so, with a long and drawn out swig and multiple glugs, his gorgeous neck out in full display for you. A nightlight sat in the corner and bathed you both in a soft purple light, and in the shadows you could see every crease and line in his shoulders, his muscles looking even more defined. With a final glug he slammed the beer on the counter beside you, suddenly caging you in with his arms, his face now only inches from yours.

And even though a part of you was nervous, trembling under his gaze, you couldn't help but smile and giggle up at him, the frustration in his eyes doing nothing but turning you on further.

"Did you want to fight, tonight?" he laughed, eyes boring into yours as he refused to move, even though you squirmed beneath him.

"I don't think so," you laughed, giving him your best innocent eyes, biting your lip between your teeth.

"You're so weird," he chuckled, finally breaking, stepping back up and away from you with a shake of his head.

"I'm not the one who wore a black tank top to a fancy party," you shot back, eyes snaking down the entirety of his form in front of you.

"Oh, you think I look bad?" he joked, his tone thick with sarcasm.

"I didn't say that. Just a surprising choice," you responded, raising your shoulders ever so slightly.

"I just got back from the gym and people were already showing up, I didn't really have time to change much," he shot back, arms crossing over his chest this time.

"Oh wow, the gym," your responded, mouth opening as you feigned amazement.

"You should come with me sometime," he said, adjusting his stance.

"Why, so you can stare at my ass while I do squats?" you asked, raising your eyebrows.

"You..." he trailed off, shaking his head as his hands came up to his hair, running through them quickly.

"What?" you asked, anchoring your hands behind you on the counter, staring up hard at the tall man in front of you.

"What do you want?" he asked, head cocked to the side, his tone dropping some.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you want me to kiss you? Or are you mad at me?" he asked.

"Can you really not tell?" you responded, batting your eyelashes up at him and pushing your chest out, your back arching off the counter slightly.

"Fuck," he muttered, and in an instant the door to the bathroom was closed tight, and he was stalking over to you with a harshness in his gaze that you weren't expecting.

You couldn't have prepared yourself for how it would feel, his soft, full lips on yours, his huge hands digging into the soft flesh of your waist. Immediately you were arching into him, pulling hard at his arms and abdomen, begging him to come closer and smother you with all the lust and warmth he had. His breath was hot in your mouth, making the rest of you feel cold and needy, and your body trembled beneath him, your movements growing more deperate. He deepened the kiss, his tongue swiping through your mouth as his hands lowered, digging now into the flesh of your hips and ass, his own hips now flush with your center as you shameless ground around one of his legs. He reached down and pulled you up, sitting you not he counter in front of him, your back flush with the cold mirror behind. HIs hand came to cradle the back of your head, his mouth devouring yours as he nipped at your lower lip, pulling back to start sucking marks into your neck and leaving you a panting mess.

You raked your hands through his soft hair, the salt on your skin tasting wonderful as he worked his way down, brushing his tongue along your collar bone and making you moan in response. You could already feel yourself soaking your dress; you had no thought of the consequences now, his thumbs brushing over your already erect nipples that now pushed against the thin material of your dress.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he groaned as he pulled back front you, watching your body writhe underneath his touch, his hips humping into yours to try to relieve some of the strain in his pants. "You promise me you'll tell me if you don't like anything?" he asked, nearly panting out the words.

"Of course," you managed beneath him, blinking open your heavy eyes to meet his. "Do everything to me, please?" you begged, already so lust filled you couldn't think straight.

"You sure, baby?" he chuckled in response, watching a small bashful smile form on your lips, the sealing indication that you truly meant what you just said.

"Come here," he said, pulling back his hands from your chest, your body nearly limp from all the stimulation. He pulled you down from the counter again, and just when you thought he would kiss you again, he turned you around, pressing on your lower back to make you arch, forcing you to place your forearms on the counter. You were now face to face with yourself, and could see everything; your eyeliner was smudged, your lipstick smeared from the kiss, and your hair was even curlier than you'd remembered it being when you left your place a few hours ago.

You looked a mess, that was certain. Like someone about to get fucked in the bathroom of a house she barely knew. And that turned you on even more, seeing the greedy, selfish look in your eye, knowing you were finally getting what you'd really wanted these last three weeks.

"Of course, no panties," Yunho chuckled from behind you, using his hands to hike up the bottom of your dress and pull your ass into view.

"Oops," you laughed below him, finally looking up from your own face to watch him in the mirror, his eyes locked down and full of an intensity you'd never seen before. God, you fucking loved that black tank on him, loved seeing his shoulders flex while kneaded the flesh of your ass, his face hard and focused. And then he finally moved his right hand lower, tracing his fingers around your slit before pushing one in you, the pleasure crashing through you in an instant.

"Fuck," you moaned, eyes rolling back as you tried to keep holding yourself up.

"You like that?" Yunho asked, his eyes now trained on your face in the mirror, the pure bliss emanating from your open mouth.

"Yeah, fuck, yeah," you moaned again, his finger now moving in and out slowly, his other hand still anchored on your back and keeping you in place.

"You want more?" he asked, and you nodded furiously, your breath so deep and fast now that you could barely answer him. He slid in another finger, and then another; you could feel the stretch, your cunt swallowing his long fingers with a hunger you couldn't explain. You just knew when you'd first seen those hands that they'd feel good buried inside you, but now that you were here you couldn't believe what you were feeling. He was better than anyone you'd ever been with, his fingers curling inside you in just the right way to have you trembling and coming in just minutes.

You moaned loudly, pussy clenching hard around him, and Yunho watched with near disbelief as he saw the muscles of your cunt fluttering, your tight hole above it staring him in the face. "Did you come already?" he asked, and you could only whisper a quick yeah in response, the aftershocks still wracking through you. "Fuck, you're so sensitive," he groaned, hips bucking into your leg as his cock grew more and more painfully erect in his tight pants.

As the fluttering in your cunt slowed he pulled his fingers out, now drenched in your juices and glistening in the soft light of the bathroom. He couldn't keep himself from running them over the tight ring of muscle above, your body immediately nearly folding at the contact. It felt too good, your ass getting rubbed just after you'd come so hard, and you nearly collapsed onto the counter in front of you, your head hanging lax as you moaned.

"You like getting your ass touched?" Yunho said behind you, watching the way the muscles of your ass and thighs clenched as he kept rubbing in small circled, smearing your slick all over you.

"Yes, more, please," you begged beneath him, shoving your lower half further in his direction, arching your back even more. "Please, both, ahh," you moaned, as he tested the waters with one finger, pushing it into the tight ring of muscle.

"You want me to fuck both your holes?" he asked, and again you could barely get out an emphatic and breathy yeah, your moaning increasing again as he pushed the finger in, your ass having to stretch to accommodate it.

"Fuck, you're so dirty," he groaned, using the slick from your cunt to fuck his finger in your ass, slowly picking up his pace again. He experimentally added another finger, and the stretch was excruciating; the pleasure and pain swirled around each other, making you cry out, your body trying to reject the added pressure. "You can take baby, I know you can," Yunho chided behind you, his free hand coming to unbotton and unzip his pants, pulling his boxers down just enough to pull out his hard and leaking cock, it's weight hot in his hand.

Finally your body relented, letting the two fingers split open your tight hole, and your wails turned more towards just moans. You felt a tug on your hair; Yunho pulled your head back, making you face the mirror again, your face even more flushed and messy than it was all those minutes ago.

"I want you to watch yourself while I fuck you, okay?" he asked you, but you knew it was more of a command than anything. Yes, you answered him, the pain and pleasure from your asshole clouding your brain entirely and making you pliant underneath his touch. Then he sheathed himself, his huge cock bottoming out inside your still soaking cunt, and you just about blacked out from the pleasure, your mind flying high off into space.

"God, fuck, you feel so good," Yunho groaned behind you, pumping his hips hard and fast, his fingers matching his pace. He'd waited three long weeks to see you again, and couldn't force himself to wait any longer to chase his pleasure. He fucked you hard, the slapping of skin filling the room as he pounded into you, watching your cunt and your asshole getting filled over and over. You did as you were told, keeping your head up, but you couldn't have seen a thing if you tried, your brain so utterly fucked that your eyes could do nothing but hang heavy and low. The whole room was a haze; Yunho could see it, how you'd gone to a whole different plane of pleasure, how you were loving how rough and domineering he was being. The fucked out look on your face was almost too much for him to handle; and then when your cunt starting clenching down on him again, he couldn't stop himself. He came hard, just as you did, the two of you trembling together in your immense pleasure. Slowly you felt his hot cum filling you up, his fingers slipping out of your ass so he could grip onto your hips with both hands, burying his cock as deep as it could go.

<><><><><><><><><>

As you finally stumbled your way back down the stairs, you knew you looked crazy.

You'd tried what you could to fix your hair and makeup, but even with Yunho's help you looked an obvious mess. Maybe it should have bothered you, but you couldn't help not caring as you walked back down to the party, Yunho's hand on your low back as he walked beside you.

"There you are!" Hannah called to you, snaking her way through the now thinner crowd of people. "I thought I might have lost you," she said, draping arms around you, the smell of something sweet on her breath.

"Just upstairs," you responded, fighting the smile forming on your lips.

"Hey, guess what?" she asked, pulling away, still keeping an arm around you.

"Hmm?"

"My period started," she sighed dramatically, head hitting your shoulder.

"Oh my god, I knew it," you laughed in response, falling into her.

"Thank god I brought those tampons," she laughed, head lolling back up to it's normal position.

"Hey, guess what?" you now said, eyes wide.

"What?"

You leaned in close, hand coming up to cover your mouth. "We just fucked," you whispered, the two of you falling into giggles immediately.

"Oh my god, yayyyyyy!!" your best friend responded, jumping up and dancing in a circle, grabbing your hands to pull you into her dance, too.

It wasn't long until you all cleared out, the night growing very dark and late and your bodies growing tired. You'd had everything you'd missed tonight; the partying, the fun, the sex. But most of all you had the best night cap ever with your bestie, recapping everything to her, minute by minute, till you both could barely speak anymore and fell asleep on the living room floor.