#AND THEN he has to apologize in the rain and call him by his first name AND catch him in his arms

[chandralia]

trying to casually explain katsuki’s devotion to izuku is impossible because why does it go from helping him train to RISKING HIS LIFE FOR HIM in a split second

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Simon has a secret, one that is making him push you away. But after being given an assignment that will keep him away for months, he knows that if he doesn't tell you now, he will lose you. So, here he is, sitting outside your work, trying to work up the courage to get you to talk to him...just as a storm rolls in. Now it looks like he will have to make his confession in the rain.

Word Count: 4.7 k

Warnings:

Simon's lips are wrapped tightly around his cigarette, pulling long deep drags off of it to fill up his lungs and numb his mind while he fights with himself on what to do. Those golden eyes peering out through the gap in his folded up mask are fixated on the back door to the local bar as he sits on his bike at the back of the parking lot. He knows you're in there as it's your shift tonight and though he wants to go in, he can't. Not yet. 

Hes fucked up royally this time, more than the little bullshit misunderstandings you’ve both had over the time you’ve been together. No, this time it isn’t something a sincere apology and some sweet action can quickly fix; he had pushed you away out of fear when in truth all he really wanted to do was to bring you closer, and now he's running out of time to try and undo the damage. A long mission is looming over his head and if he doesn't act now the fragility of your relationship will crumble apart. 

That’s why he’s at the one place he knows you’ll be tonight, the one place he has a chance of getting you to talk to him because there’s something he needs to tell you…something he should have said a lot sooner.

But now that he’s here he realizes that he’s paralyzed by the uncertainty; what if it's already too late? Wouldn't it be better to stay in this limbo then know the truth? At least that type of pain he can compartmentalize, tuck neatly away so that a mild distraction will keep him from focusing on it. 

Yet...there’s still a flicker of hope that has him in a chokehold: what if there is a chance? 

Simon plucks the butt of his spent cig from his lips and flicks it to the ground, the third one he's finished sitting here working up the courage to go inside and find you. Maybe one more and he’ll finally be ready. Pulling the pack out of his jacket pocket he opens it and wrenches out another, but before he can even bring the stick to his lips he hears the click of the back door opening and immediately pulls down the lip of his mask back over his chin out of habit. His heart stops and forcefully restarts as the figure is revealed, illuminated under the spotlight attached to the outside of the building. 

You step out into the night with a yelled goodbye to your coworkers over your shoulder before the door closes behind you and latches shut. The air is cool and there's a rush of a breeze that blows through to tangle the loose strands from your ponytail, the first signs of a storm rolling in. 

Good thing you're off early tonight. 

Crossing the lot to your car you suddenly get that uneasy feeling from eyes being on you that causes you to survey your surroundings and sure enough you find the source dismounting his bike and heading straight for you. It’s Simon. Your heart is in your throat as you quickly dig for your keys in your purse; you don't know if you have the strength to deal with whatever this is tonight and need to get out of here. 

That hulking figure dressed in black from head to toe hasn't said a word to you yet, but you still call back to him in a warning. "Not now, Simon," you say through gritted teeth, keeping your head down to stare at your feet until you reach your car. The keys are in your hand ready to unlock the door as soon as you reach it so you can escape.

Simon finally finds his voice; it’s now or never.

"Just hang on a fuckin second and listen, will ya?" he tries to reason, but you aren't having it. Fuck, you’re picking up the pace and now he's desperate to stop you. He's certain that if you get in your car then he’ll never get his chance. 

"No," you say, shaking your head, still not facing him. "Why should I listen to you when you've been avoiding me for weeks now, leaving me on fucking read all the time, being flaky when I can get you to answer. You don't get to just pop back up and think I'm going to forget all that. You can be a bit thick at times, but this is too much."

He knows he deserves this, but hearing the pain in your voice stings in his chest. "I can explain, luv..."

"Save it," you interject as you make it to your car, stabbing in the key to get the door unlocked and opened.

That masked military man is desperate and before you can even react your grip on the handle slips as he slams the door closed right in your face and keeps his hand pressed to it. It takes you a second to recover, but you turn around on your heels to face him, anger and frustration welling up fast. "Move your hand so I can go. I’m tired."

Simon stands his ground, hand firmly in place with no sign of moving it. "No, I need ya ta listen ta me. Just for a minute."

You shove your way past him. "Fine, I'll walk."

Fast steps fueled by anger have you booking it across the parking lot just as another huge gust of wind pushes against your body while a distant roll of thunder sounds. Great, you’re gonna get drenched before you make it back to your place now, but you can’t turn around, you can’t let him break your heart even more by talking. You just need to keep walking.

“Come back,” he yells after you as he too takes off in your footsteps, but you aren’t listening.

You shake your head and he watches the back of it move. “No, no I won’t.”

Clouds overhead swirl in dark, threatening patterns with just barely enough moonlight to illuminate them as a low rumble sounds closer. The storm is approaching faster, but it’s nothing compared to the storm brewing inside you as you fear the worst, that everything is on the verge of tumbling down and there is no way for you to stop it. 

A few quickly jogged steps and he’s caught up to you; damn his long legs. His large hands wrap around your shoulders to force you to come to a stop so he can turn you around to face him again. “Why can’t ya jus’ listen a moment…” 

It’s hard to keep your gaze diverted, but you don’t want to meet his eyes, not until you can put a little more distance between your bodies so that he can’t see the emotion welling in the depths. If this is going to happen, he’s not going to see you breakdown. 

“Cause I think your actions have spoken enough,” you say as you squirm in his grasp until he is compelled to release your shoulders and you can move back from him. 

Simon’s brow furrows as you put space between you, space that he desperately doesn’t want, but at least he has you here and for the moment that is all he can ask. “Look, let me jus’ explain somethin’,” he starts, but before he can utter another word the sky opens up and suddenly releases a deluge down onto both of you so that the heavy droplets are already soaking through your clothes and Simon’s mask in seconds. He cannot stand the feeling of it clinging suffocatingly tight to his face and in an angered huff he rips it off his head and shoves it into the back pocket on his jeans.

“Fuck Simon, can we just call this what it is?” you blurt out over the sound of heavy drops splashing down around you, “I don’t want to stand here in the fucking rain and drag this out, okay? We both know why you’re here.”

A web of lightning rolls out across the heavens as Simon struggles to comprehend your words. “What the fuck are ya on bout?” he shouts.

You forcefully swipe back a few stray strands of hair that are sticking to your face. “You’ve been pulling away from me for weeks now. Do you know how fucking hard that is to just watch? I’ve tried to pretend that it was all in my head for long enough, but I don’t want to turn a blind eye to it anymore.”

The emotion grips his heart and he struggles to breathe. “Jus’ stop, god dammit. Tha’s not it…”

You stare at him through the droplets running off your eyelashes, mixing with the tears falling from your eyes so that you can’t tell which is which. It’s enough; you can’t change the feeling that you’ve already lost him, so you can only self preserve. “No, I’m not going to leave this. You already did that, so I’m done.”

“Done, you’re jus’ fuckin’ done? Jus’ like that?” he bellows the question over the rain. 

“What do you want me to say? That I’m fine with being shut out from whatever it is that’s in your head? Just admit that you want this thing we have to be over and we can both go our separate ways.”

He runs his fingers over his scalp through wet blonde locks, an irate smile on his lips. “Is that what ya think this is? God dammit, luv, is that what ya really fuckin’ think I want? After all this time? That I would just up an’ fuckin’ leave ya?”

“Then tell me, tell me why the fuck you’ve been so distant lately. Tell me right fucking now Simon or I’m walking away and we are finished for good.” You’re yelling so loud now you’re sure someone inside the loud, music-filled bar will be able to hear you two bickering, but you’re about to lose something precious to you and you don’t care.

And he matches your volume as he hates himself for letting it get this far, for pushing you to the brink of breaking up just because he is too afraid to admit the truth to the one person he trusts even more than himself. It might be too late, but if he doesn’t at least say it now he will hate himself for the rest of his life. You have to know.

“Because I fuckin’ love ya, tha’s why.”

The words slam into you full force, knocking the wind from your lungs as if you’ve been hit and you struggle to catch any bit of air again. You stand there, staring back silently into his face as you take in what he just said as your brain cannot seem to compute that this is what was causing him to be so detached lately. He loves you?

Simon takes a step in towards you, trying to bridge the gap that was caused by his actions as of late. “Didn’t know how ta say it cause I’m fuckin’ terrified ‘a this, that by sayin’ somethin’ as big as this it will ruin it all. I don’t ‘ave the best luck in this department. Do ya know what it’s like to fear somethin’ tha’s supposed ta make ya happy? I don’t wanna fuckin’ lose ya.”

You swallow down the lump in your throat to speak aloud the question that is burning on your tongue. Your voice wavers, but you get out the words. “Are you really telling me the truth?”

Another few steps, more space reduced so that he is nearly against you and now even through the raindrops dripping off his long eyelashes the parking lot spotlight still glints through the emotion burning in those dark eyes. Soundlessly he reaches for your hand and turning it palm side down he places it against the middle of his chest on his shirt. 

“Do ya feel how fast that’s fuckin’ goin’, sweetheart?” he asks as he presses down on the back of your hand. 

You can feel his pulse pounding hard against his ribcage even through his soaked t-shirt, its thunderous beat hitting back against the skin in rapid tempo. He takes a deep breath, trying to fill his lungs as best as he can, and it shudders through his torso. 

“Ya think that’s lyin’?” he asks and you shake your head as you stare back up into his eyes. “Christ, I shoulda said it so much sooner cause it’s fuckin’ killin’ me ta know I made ya think tha worst. So I’ll say it again: I love ya, sweetheart.”

You instantly forget that the rain is filling your shoes, that your hair is stuck to your head, that your cold, drenched clothes are clinging irritatingly to your body; all that’s left is you and him lost in this moment and suddenly all that distress that had been filling your heart dissipates into thin air.

The rise and fall of Simon’s chest counts the seconds as you both just stand in quiet of each other while the storm fills the space with static. He needs you to say something, anything; to break the silence that is now eating away at him after opening himself up raw like this. Maybe it’s still too late, maybe the damage is too severe, and he curses himself for squandering his one chance at something he so desperately wants.  

Yet you’re still here even though you could have already told him off and walked away. He has to hold on to that because the alternative he is sure will kill him. “Say that ya love me too,” he begs, an act that is just as rare as his confession. “Fuck, please…I know I’m a god damn idiot for waitin’ so fuckin’ long, but I can’t lose ya. I can’t. You’re the only fuckin’ thing ‘round here that I can’t live without.”

You get caught up in the intensity of his gaze like a snare and suddenly you can't think as you take in the emotion in his eyes and all you know like a feeling in your bones is that you need him. Only him. He really loves you. That desperation in his voice is palpable and though you want to say something, your body moves before your brain can catch up to its action and you quickly close the rest of the short distance between your wet bodies to lean up into him and with your hand wrapping around the back of his head you pull his face in to connect your mouths in a moistened, heated kiss. 

The raindrops run down between your bodies as your lips dance in feverish bursts. He wraps his arms around you, securing your slick bodies together in an embrace that feels like he’s afraid you’ll still leave, but not even the storm can pull you from him now because you don’t have to think about it… you love him too.

Breaking the connection for only a second, you inhale to have just enough breath to say what you need to. “I love you,” you whisper.   

The way he captures your mouth as the last syllable leaves your lips makes you dizzy from the intensity, each new embrace is another apology written on the flesh. He is trying to swallow down those words faster than you can draw in air to keep yourself from passing out. Your body is completely enveloped by the bulk of his, those bulging muscles along his abdomen pressing into you as his arms keep you locked tightly in his consuming embrace. His need overwhelms every sense and it’s like an electrical current is shared through your tangled, soaked limbs. 

But the closeness isn’t enough; Simon is still in agony and he needs more. Large, coarse hands cup around your face, rough thumbs stroking over the damp skin along your jaw as his tongue juts out from between his teeth and over his lips to prod against yours until you open your mouth and allow him to thrust it in. That thick muscle fills the cavity full as he explores, tasting you, devouring your kiss as if it is the only thing keeping him alive.

All you can do is cling to him as you lose yourself in the passion of each embrace, each one burying the sentiment of his confession further into your soul. You had missed his touch more than you thought and now that you have it back, you don’t want it to end. “Please…” you breathe through a break in the connection of his mouth.

Finally he pulls your face from his, but still keeps his lips close so that the heat from his breath makes yours tingle. “What do ya want, sweetheart?” he groans, his speech slurred as if he’s drunk off your kisses alone.

Words are a struggle, so you choose the most effective one that will make him understand that he can’t stop now. “You.” 

Placing another kiss to your swollen lips, he releases your face and grabs your hand securely in his. “C’mon.”

He guides you by the hand back the short distance to your car, gets the door open, and helps you into the back seat before climbing inside himself. You move to the opposite side of the car to give him room, but all that space is soon filled as he is close behind, moving in and pinning you against the door, his entire body weight pressing into you so that wet clothes and skin rub together as the rain outside beats against the car in tiny percussive hits. 

“God, I fuckin’ missed ya, luv,” he grunts as his hands move up under your shirt to get at the warm skin of your abdomen. 

Simon’s hands start to pry off wet clothing from both of you as fast as he can remove them, his mouth immediately finding the newly revealed bare bits of skin to adore with heated kisses that make your flesh prickle with goosebumps from the temperature. Each embrace of his mouth makes you more sensitive until he has you with eyes closed moaning into his ear.  

There is an electrical pulse that bursts over his flesh as your bodies connect skin to skin, still damp and cold from the rain, and he groans deeply into your mouth as he pulls you under him.

“Need ya so bad, luv,” he breathes over your shoulder before his lips kiss the heat deeper into your skin as he works on undoing your pants. “Need ta make up for all that fuckin’ time I wasted.”

His hand descends into the opening he's created and parts through the plushness of your thighs until he’s between them and inside your panties. 

“Fuck, ya feel so good,” he says in a desperate strain of his gruff voice as he cups his large, rough palm over the soft lips of your pussy to make you moan into the silence of the car. 

Those fingers of his know exactly what to do, parting through your lips as easily as butter to find your clit and then drawing tight circles over the bud with an expertise that can only come from someone who knows your body as intimately as he does. It’s muscle memory at this point and that allows him to enjoy the view as you fall apart to his touch.

Silently he gazes into your face with a newfound tenderness in those dark eyes, adoringly watching you as those emotions he’s tried to suppress out of fear come bubbling to the surface with each wave of pleasure that ripples across your features and he doesn’t hold them back. His heart burns with the intensity of his feelings almost as if it’s about to burst at the seams, but he wants to feel it all, every last bit of it. 

"I was a fucking fool to risk losin’ ya," he whispers amidst your whimpers as his fingers draw you ever closer to that pressurized release.

Your hand reaches out to run along the seam of his zipper until you find his bulge to rub it over and over. “I forgive you, Simon, I forgive you. Just…be here with me now,” you reassure and all that self-loathing he had built up dissipates with your words and the stroking of your hand. “I’ve…missed you Simon.”

“Missed ya too, sweetheart. So fuckin’ much.” 

Letting go of all that doubt and worry and fear, his body responds to your touch in need of more friction and he grinds his hips into you until his cock is straining the fabric of his jeans and he knows you can count his pulse from how hard it’s throbbing in your hand. His fingers are now coated in your honey as he keeps them buried in you and he plans to keep going until you cum on them.

That is until you start to plead. “Can’t wait, baby,” you murmur into his face. “Don’t want to wait. Need you now.” 

This is about you now and there is no way he is going to deny you tonight. “Anythin’ for you,” he returns and before you can speak again he’s already moving back off of you to take the waist of your jeans in his hands to rip them down as you lift your hips to help him. He takes everything, including your soaked panties, down and off so they are out of his way. Just as rapidly he undoes his own jeans and shoves them down over the curve of his ass towards his knees until his cock springs free of its cage.  

You open your legs wider as he adjusts himself back between them. The tip of his member is leaking a little precum, but it isn’t enough; he needs to be sure he’s good and lubricated before ever entering you and he has just the solution that he created himself. Simon holds onto the base and pushes himself through the lips of your pussy, thrusting through them in and out to coat himself in your slick until you can’t take another second of his unintentional torture. 

“Please baby,” you beg as his shaft stimulates your clit. “I need you inside me now. Please…please…”

Simon smirks. “Goddamn, ya sound so pretty,” he breathes the words against your raw lips as he steals them again, trying to drink your whimpers down like nectar as he aligns the head of his cock with your entrance. 

Those strong hands hold your hips steady as he clenches his abdominals and drives himself carefully up into you until your body gives way to his girth. The stretch causes your walls to expand quickly as you take him in all the way down to the base and you cry out at the delicious feeling of suddenly being so completely full of him as your head falls back against the now fogged up glass of the window. 

It doesn't last as a familiar touch at the back of your head guides it up. “Stay with me, sweet girl,” he says with a shudder as he struggles to calm himself now that he's wrapped in your warmth.

You give him a quick nod and wrap your arms around his neck to hold on and he rests his forehead against your own so that with each slow, deep thrust he can punctuate it with a gentle kiss. Your damp bodies slip against each other more now as the perspiration created from your copulation coats over all that exposed skin until you both sparkle in the soft overhead lights of the parking lot.

“Say it again,” you moan into the tight space between your lips. “I want to hear it again.”

Even in the haze of his ecstasy, Simon knows what you want and doesn’t hesitate anymore. “I love you,” he says, his hot breath pushing the words into your mouth. 

Is it the words and their sentiment or his cock that is overwhelming you so that your mind is left scrambling in a haze of pleasure? You aren’t sure; all you know is that you’ve never felt this sensitive before, like every nerve ending is being stimulated at the same time and it’s hard to hold onto your sanity. There is nothing left in your world, nothing but you and him and the euphoria you share between your writhing bodies. 

Simon is feeling it too as his hips roll into you with a sense of urgency; he’s getting close, but he has to be sure you come first. Reaching between your bodies into the gap created from this position, he guides his hand down the warm, glistening skin of your pelvis to slip his fingers back between your damp petals and up against your swollen clit. You mewl pitifully into his face with your mouth hung open as the pleasure radiates out from that tiny bead that his fingers rub over and you can’t help but try and push against his hand that is keeping your head locked to his as you desperately try to arch your back.   

“Fuck, I’m gonna… mmmm… I’m gonna…” You can’t get the words out as each time you try another wave of ecstasy rolls through you, stealing your breath along with what’s left of your sanity. 

Panting into your face, his hips keep the rhythm steady for each thrust so that nothing stalls your oncoming release. “Cum for me, sweetheart,” he groans against your bottom lip as his fingers slip through all that natural lubrication that begins to dribble down over the back of his hand towards his knuckles the longer he strokes. “I need ya ta fuckin’ come for me.”

Close so close, it’s right there and it only takes another minute to reach. With a cry, all that pressure finally explodes and you cum with a fury that has your thighs locking around him as the walls of your cunt clamp down and he can’t hang on a moment more.

Those raw lips of his catch yours as he lets go, moaning desperately into your mouth as his cum bursts up into you, your legs still locked so that he can’t pull out until he has given you all that he has. His thrusts rapidly slow with a few stray grunts until he comes to a stop and hangs over you completely spent and only able to pant as the faint sounds of the rain hitting the metal roof begin to slow. 

His limbs are trembling as he pulls back from you to collapse against the opposite door, pulling you over top of him to rest once he’s situated, and he’s able to play that quivering off as if it is the comedown from his release, but that isn’t the reason for his reaction. Never in his life has he shared such an intimate moment with someone. Sex is one thing, but this…this is so much more and his heart aches as it is allowed to truly feel for the first time.

You notice that tumultuous look in his eyes, feel that tremor that accentuated with shaky breath, and understand the weight of the connection you both have shared tonight. Reaching up, you stroke your fingertips over his temple and along his cheek, gazing up into his face through heavy breaths with a gentle smile on your lips and contented exhaustion in your eyes until he looks down at you securely in his embrace. 

“I love you.”

He smiles. “I love ya too.”

Minutes pass as you both drift back down from that high with your body wrapped in his arms and your head resting against his chest. Each strong heartbeat pounds against your ear and you count them one by one as they start to slow and you feel his touch against your face. 

“Ya know, never gave a damn ‘bout bein’ religious,” Simon says quietly as his fingertips stroke over the soft, delicate skin of your cheek, “but fuck, sometimes I think somethin’ divine must a made ya just for me. And I fuckin’ hate myself for nearly throwin’ it all away.”

He places his lips against your temple, a silent promise to never make that risk again. No matter what happens after tonight, his love is yours.

[gingerpines]

teen!caitvi AU drabble based on this art by me!

warning: i am not a writer! and english isn’t my first language! i hope this still makes sense :) its a bit messy its not very well explained sometimes but i hope i got the point across! enjoy!

Ekko was sent by benzo to deliver things at jayce’s workshop and vi and claggor join because ekko’s quite young to go on his own anyways, vi is like, acting as the bodyguard and shes looking all tough and mysterious making sure ekko is okay constantly

they knock and stand at the door, vi staying behind ekko to look around and jayce is like come in! bc they have quite a lot of things and while vi stands back still cautious, she completely drops her tough demeanor when she sees young cait tinkering with some of jayce’s stuff, goggles on. Vi tries to be discreet but her eyes keep darting back at Cait while ekko and jayce conclude business, claggor catches vi but doesnt say anything, and cait comes towards them, taking the goggles off, a big smile on her face.

"Nice to meet you all!" she goes in her thick british accent and she offers a handshake to Vi who doesnt know what to do with that so she kinda blushes and stares at cait, cait going "I’m Caitlyn!" and, embarrassed and flustered, vi just frowns and doesnt say anything, sorta turning around and caitlyn takes that VERY personally and from that point on she’s got beef with her and Vi kinda regrets how stupid she acted but tries not to think about it too much.

now everytime ekko has business in piltover, vi INSISTS on joining, saying its for safety but really its in the hopes she’ll run into caitlyn again. one time at a fair, benzo has a booth to sell things in piltover and ekko runs it, naturally, vi and the other kids join, Jayce and Caitlyn visit the booth and when cait sees Vi she just turns her head away with a frown, still upset at their last interaction and refusing to look at her, and Vi decides to tease her and ask about what theyre doing here. Cait kinda ignores her at first but ends up yapping about jayce’s and her’s latest experiments and shes talking sooo much and vi listens to all of it and when cait realized shes been talking too much they both kinda laughs and then jayce says they have to go so they leave and they smile at each other

throughout the fair Cait tries to “accidentally” walk in front of ekko’s booth again, and when she does, Vi is gone and she asks Ekko where she went and ekko shrugs, cait keeps walking around until she sees Vi walk around and cait joins her and they just kinda tease each other and argue the whole day but in a cute way but they both try to pretend they dont like the other bc they have such different lives and vi keeps calling cait entitled but she doesnt even mean it. From then on, Vi starts sneaking out to meet Cait outside her gate, but she has no idea how to get her attention, so she kinda sits there in the rain for a while until one of the dog starts barking, waking, thankfully, only Caitlyn up who looks out her bedroom window and goes outside to see little wet puppy vi standing at the gate and trying to make up an excuse as to why shes here like jayce forgot a tool from ekko and it was just easier to get it to her house instead and they end up talking until so late even tho its freezing outside, the gate still separating them, like the wall that socially separates them.

they start meeting up almost every week, like clockwork, outside of Cait’s house to talk, and for Cait to yap about things she likes while Vi listens. one day, Cassandra catches them and forbids Cait to see Vi again. They both cry themselves to sleep and Vander notices Vi’s change in mood after that, and asks her about it. she tells him everything and apologizes for lying and sneaking out but vander isnt upset, he hugs her and tells her theyre going to figure it out.

Vander decides to go talk to Cassandra at the next Piltover-Zaun event, Vi standing shyly behind Vander’s leg, Caitlyn standing straight next to Cassandra, both girls so excited to see each other again even tho its weird and awkward with their parents talking in front of them, Cassandra listens to Vander who’s putting on The Charm™️ and she eventually sighs and allows them to see each other bc she sees Vi isnt a menace

that day they both walk around Piltover, often almost holding hands but theyre too shy so they don’t, but Vi wants to show Cait she likes her but she doesnt know how to because they shouldnt and also because she doesnt know how to show love in a way that Caitlyn would understand. they walk around and its comfortably quiet this time, even tho theyre used to yapping and yapping for hours but this time they just want each other’s presence. at one point they walk through a tiny crowd and theres a small group of Zaunites laughing at them, at the contrast between their clothes and demeanors and they hear one of the boys call Caitlyn and a not-so-nice words like stuck up or worse, Vi isn’t even sure but she immediately knocks him down in one punch and Cait has absolutely no idea what to do or say but she then grabs Vi’s hand and they run away, when theyre safe away from that crowd, Caitlyn gets SOOO mad in her little british accent and Vi just sits, knuckles bloody, listening to Cait lecture her.

Eventually, cait calms down and looks down at Vi’s hands and sighs, starting to unwrap her bandages to check her wound muttering “You are such an idiot, Violet.” and Vi just smiles as Cait cleans her wounds.

bonus:

cait begging her mom to let her bring vi to one of the shooting tournaments and Vi joins and they have so much fun and cait lets vi try out her rifle and shes so bad and they laugh and caitlyn teaches her and theyre having a moment but cait’s parents interrupt and theyre blushing and being silly teenagers with a crush and they dont know how to deal with it. cait is definitely the one to fall first even tho she represses it bc vi is from zaun and thats not how she was raised, but she becomes closer with vi and vi realizes wayyyyy too late that she has a massive crush and also that cait is not being slick about it in the slightest. she talks about it with vander at the last drop she sits at the counter with her head in her hands like ughhhhhh i hate having a crush its so stupid and vander laughs

thank u for reading :))

[astro-stars]

Hear me out on this... TWST with a Southern! Reader.

Like, it's the first day of school, and obviously Reader can't remember the names of the two people they just met, so when Ace says one thing or another, complaining about someone called Riddle, they just go "Hm, yeah, sweetheart."

Ace drops his lunch.

Or when they step on Leona's tail by accident, immediately going, "Oh, darling, are you alright?"

Leona couldn't fall asleep for the first time in a while.

Or after Azul's overblot, how can he not cry more, especially when Reader is rubbing circles into his shoulders, cooing, "It's okay, love, let it all out."

The scammer, unfortunately, couldn't look Reader in the eyes for a while after that.

Or when Reader gets mad, like when they cook something for their friends and Grim eats it, their immediate instinct is to go "WITH ALL I DO FOR THIS HOUSE, YOUNG MAN, WHY DON'T YOU TRY YOUR HAND AT FEEDING THIS HOUSE?!"

By house, they mean the five other first years.

please ignore that theyre out of order😭 its just the order i came up with them!

Ace Trappola

During a Class Mishap Ace messes up a potion and it starts bubbling over, covering his face in soot. Reader chuckles softly and drawls, “Well, bless your heart, sugar, you tryin’ to invent fireworks in here?” Ace sputters, trying to explain himself, but the way Reader says “sugar” makes him forget what he was even going to say. He spends the rest of the class trying (and failing) to act unfazed.

Deuce Spade

When He Gets Into Trouble Deuce gets caught in yet another fight, his uniform a mess. Reader sighs, crossing their arms. “Now, darlin’, I know your momma raised you better than this. You think brawlin’ is gonna solve your problems?” Deuce blushes deeply, stammering out an apology, and promises to do better. He can’t decide if Reader’s scolding feels more like comfort or a proper lecture, but either way, it gets through to him.

Jack Howl

After a Long Run Jack comes back from a run, panting heavily. Reader hands him a water bottle and says, “There you go, honey. Can’t have you keelin’ over on me, now.” Jack pauses mid-sip, ears twitching. He mumbles a quiet “thanks” but spends the rest of the day wondering why being called “honey” makes his tail wag.

Ruggie Bucchi

When He Steals Food Ruggie swipes a bite of Reader’s lunch, thinking they won’t notice. Reader glares and slams their hand on the table. “Now, listen here, sugar. If you’re gonna steal from me, at least have the decency to leave a ‘thank you’ note!” Ruggie freezes, torn between laughing and apologizing. He scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “Sorry, I’ll leave a note next time, promise.”

Floyd Leech

During One of Floyd’s Moods Floyd is sulking in the lounge, glaring at anyone who comes near. Reader plops down beside him, ignoring the tension. “What’s got you in such a twist, darlin’? You look like a cat that’s been rained on.” Floyd blinks at them before breaking into a grin. “Heh, you’re funny. I like you.” He’s back to his usual chaotic self in no time, dragging Reader into whatever mischief he has planned.

Jamil Viper

When He’s Overworked Reader notices Jamil trying to juggle a million tasks at once. They gently take a tray from his hands and say, “Now, love, you can’t be doin’ everything yourself. Even the strongest trees need a little support.” Jamil hesitates but lets them help. Later, he finds himself thinking about how soft their voice was when they called him “love.”

Kalim Al-Asim

When He’s Overly Excited Kalim bursts into Reader’s room, talking a mile a minute about his latest idea for a party. Reader smiles fondly and says, “Alright, sugarcube, slow down. You’re buzzin’ around like a bee in a flower shop.” Kalim laughs, realizing he’s gotten carried away. “Sorry! I just get so excited talking to you!” Reader’s warm tone makes him feel even more enthusiastic.

Sebek Zigvolt

When He’s Loud (As Always) Sebek’s voice booms through the dorm, startling everyone nearby. Reader raises an eyebrow and says, “Well, darlin’, you sure do have a voice on you. Could probably wake the dead if you tried.” Sebek pauses, unsure if that was a compliment or not. He straightens up and replies, “Of course! A knight must always be heard!” But his face betrays the fact that he’s flustered.

Silver

When He Falls Asleep Reader finds Silver asleep under a tree and gently drapes a blanket over him. “Sleep tight, sugar. Even knights need their rest.” When Silver wakes up and sees the blanket, his heart skips a beat. He quietly resolves to thank them later, though he’s already blushing at the thought.

Vil Schoenheit

During a Self-Care Lesson Vil insists on giving Reader a skincare lesson. As he critiques their routine, Reader smirks and says, “Well, bless your heart, sweetpea. I didn’t realize I was sittin’ with the beauty queen of Twisted Wonderland.” Vil narrows his eyes, but the corners of his lips twitch upward. “Flattery will get you nowhere—though I appreciate the sentiment.”

Rook Hunt

When He’s Observing Them Rook starts waxing poetic about Reader’s charm and grace. They laugh and reply, “Oh, honey, you’re layin’ it on thicker than molasses on a pancake.” Rook places a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “But I only speak the truth, mon trésor!” Reader shakes their head, amused by his dramatics.

Epel Felmier

When He’s Feeling Insecure Epel complains about being underestimated because of his looks. Reader pats his shoulder and says, “Now, don’t you fret, darlin’. Even the prettiest apples can pack the strongest punch.” Epel grins, feeling a little more confident. “Thanks, Yuu. You’re real good at makin’ a guy feel better.”

Idia Shroud

When He’s Awkward Around Them Reader catches Idia muttering to himself about a game. They lean in with a warm smile. “Whatcha talkin’ about, sugar? Don’t keep me in suspense.” Idia jumps, his hair flaring pink. “N-nothing! It’s nothing!” But the way they said “sugar” replays in his head for days.

Malleus Draconia

During a Starlit Walk Reader invites Malleus to stargaze with them, saying, “Ain’t the night sky somethin’ else, darlin’? Makes all the troubles of the day seem so small.” Malleus gazes at them instead of the stars. “Indeed,” he murmurs, though he’s not talking about the sky.

not malleus all on his own

TAGLIST; @soramcduckahyucky

[bbystark]

♡ simon is a bad stalker part 1 ♡

bad!stalker!simon x reader series - pt two three

♡ masterlist ♡ request more! ♡

summary: simon being a stalker but really it's just him being sweet. price makes an appearance. mdni

a/n: as per usual this is way longer than it needs to be, enjoy

simon kind of sucks at being a stalker but it's because he doesn't really want to scare you, he just wants to be around you

he doesn't even really realize what he's doing at first, tells himself that he's only trailing you in his car as a random act of kindness, who knows what could happen to you in broad daylight walking 2 streets over to grab a coffee

he finds your number too easily, and even pays some sketchy site $20 after a pop-up promises to scrub your information from sites like the one he's on now. wouldn't want someone finding out all the information he did

you suddenly are getting way less spam calls/emails, and chalk it up to being lucky

it goes on for months, you have no idea who he is and that you're being stalked. the only inkling you have of anything weird going on is you're having terrific luck lately.

obviously, the luck is a huge war-torn man that can't seem to stop making your life easier

like one day it's raining hard after work, and you have prepared yourself to get soaked on your way to your car.

that is until you see an umbrella leaning against the building, a note with running ink that says "free" on it. talk about right place right time!

or the time your cat gets sick from eating a hair tie and you spend almost all your money on surgeries and medicine. you're starting to worry that you'll be short on rent when a literal child knocks on your door with an envelope full of money saying that he has a youtube channel and chose you randomly to give $5,000 to. what the fuck?

you're still standing motionless in your doorway with a stack of money in your hands when the kid rounds the corner, looking up at simon expectantly. "the lady took the money dude. where's my xbox?"

simon chuckles a little, handing the kid a bag from gamestop with the newest xbox in it. the little kid runs off, yelling thank you as he leaves.

then simon ramps it up a little, starts sneaking in at night to watch you sleep and go through your little trinkets. homeboy just wants to know every little thing there is to know about you

he starts showing up to the place you get coffee, where you grocery shop, etc

you start feeling like you're being watched, start hearing things at night that make you sleep a little lighter.

you figure out you're being stalked a few months later. you had started feeling so off that you began seeing a therapist, worried that some mystery mental illness is starting to creep in.

simon starts noticing that you're not sleeping as well, not smiling as much from the paranoia. so he does the next logical step of leaving you notes of reassurance

the first one is when he's watching you sleep one night, on his way out he trips over your cat who seemingly came out of nowhere. he catches himself on the wall, a dull thud echoing throughout your home.

the next morning you find a note, that simply states "sorry about the noise last night, i tripped on your cat. i'll try to be more quiet next time. yours, s."

you immediately start tweaking out. someone was in your house? and they left a fucking note? apologizing of all things?

then you realize that this has probably been going on for months

for some reason it calms you, you've been living in ignorance all this time and you always knew something was off, at least you knew what it was now

and as far as you knew your stalker hadn't done anything dangerous besides, you know, stalking you

so you stay quiet. mostly because you feel insane but a part of you also worries what would happen if you broke your stalker's routine. would he start becoming violent? would the police even have enough information to stop him?

simon takes that as acceptance and an invitation for more contact. so he starts calling you.

the first time is when you're about to leave for work. you answer with a bright "hello, this is y/n" and almost jump when a deep gravelly voice responds. "hi luv. take backroads to work today, there's an accident on the freeway, it'll probably make you late."

before you can respond you hear the "call ended" tone. you rapidly look around your street, seeing no one out of the ordinary. you say fuck it and take the freeway, not wanting to be lured into a trap or something. lo and behold, you're almost 20 minutes late to work.

the calls stop freaking you out when you realize one night, almost dazed, that whoever this man is actually helping you. like a lot.

just the other day after a girl's night out you had been struggling to find an uber around, cursing when the driver canceled on you after waiting for 15 minutes.

you're already about to cry when a black suv rolls up, a middle-aged man with impressive facial hair popping his head out of the window.

"y/n?" you hesitantly say "yes?" and take a step closer to the car.

"i'm your uber, stupid app canceled while i was on the way here. hop in." he opens his own door, tall frame making his way around to the door closest to you, opening it and waiting.

you're admittedly really drunk. and you realize that this might be a horrible idea, but for some reason the story makes sense, and you find yourself slipping into the back of the man's car.

"temp all right for you luv?" you freeze a little, the pet name feeling familiar somehow. you stay quiet, looking at him through the rearview mirror. he makes eye contact with you and suddenly you're blurting it out before you can stop yourself.

"you're not an uber driver, are you?"

he holds eye contact for a second, surprised when he doesn't see fear in your expression, just desperation for the truth. he sighs deeply and looks back at the road.

"nope" your heart leaps into your throat.

"are you..." you didn't even know what to say. "are you, him?"

price knows what you're asking. when ghost called and asked him to pick you up, he knew he shouldn't. the stupid fuck was stalking you for god's sake. but price has a soft spot for his broken LT.

"no. i'm not him."

"do you know him?"

price hesitates. "yeah. i know 'im."

you're quiet for a few minutes, briefly realizing that you're a few streets away from home. you didn't know what you expected, but actually being dropped off unharmed wasn't it.

price turns down your street and suddenly you have a million questions.

"does he hate me? does he want to hurt me? why me? what does he want?"

price puts the car and park, kind of irritated at ghost for putting him in this position and not being normal and just taking you out on a date.

"he's not gonna hurt you, y/n. he just wants to take care of you, make sure you're safe." you stare at him like he's an alien.

price decides that's all he's going to say and leans over the seat to unbuckle you. "time to get to bed youngin."

you slowly grab your purse, grabbing the car handle. you sit for a second, before turning back to the man. "thank you for the ride. and tell, him, thanks, i guess." you don't wait for a response, just get out of the car and walk up to your house.

you turn around and watch the man pull out of your driveway, speeding down your quiet street. you unlock your front door in a daze, still half expecting to be murdered at any second.

your phone rings and you answer without looking at the screen.

"y/n?" it's him. he had gotten a call from price, recapping his drive home with you and started panicking when price shared that you had clocked him not being an uber driver. he didn't know what else to do but call you and try to explain and not lose you.

"it's you."

"y/n, i-" you cut him off.

"i want to meet you."

simon realizes that he is so fucked.

[nightingale-prompts]

Energy Levels-Batboy AU-DCxDP

Previous | First | Next

Dealing with Danny's energy level has gotten 10 times worse. Dick remembered dealing with Beast's bursts of energy but even he got tired after a good wrestle with anyone willing to take on a bear. But Danny's new full transformations are smaller than Beast's transformations with twice the energy. If Dick wanted to get sleep he needed reinforcements.

So a trip to Titans Tower was needed. Before Dick could park Danny had rolled down a window and flew to the landing pad on the roof.

Batboy had certainly changed since his regeneration. The new wings have done a lot. Dick didn't get it when Danny described the process of blending dragon and bat muscle and bone formations. Dick didn't even know Danny had a dragon friend. Dick also didn't mention that sometimes Danny looked like a gargoyle when his wings rested on his back and not around him like normal.

Still, Danny was happy. Well...happier. Sometimes Danny would still blankly stare out at the city at night deep in thought. Like he was searching for something but knew he'd never find it.

Danny also didn't call him dad again. Dick never mentioned it. Danny did have mixed feelings about parents.

When Dick finally made it to the top floor Danny had already pounced on Gar. The two were in the middle of a tug-of-war as wolves. It wasn't a fair battle either as Beast was twice as big.

Wally almost felt bad for encouraging Danny. Almost. He took pictures of Beast being able to drag Danny around by the rope.

But there is a funny thing about wolf instincts. Adult wolves will always give in to pups. If a pup wants something the adult will let them have it. It's called puppy privilege. Like it or not Gar eventually surrendered the rope and let Danny fun off with it.

"Sorry, he's been like for a solid week." Dick immediately apologized.

"We are just glad he is alright. He's certainly more spirited than last time. Although his size-shifting last time left us confused." Starfire said patting Danny on the head.

The wolf dropped the rope before bounding back over to Gar and picking another fight.

Honestly, Garfield was thrilled to finally have another animal shapeshifting buddy. He considered asking Nightwing to let Batboy be his sidekick. Make him the new Beastboy.

After a few more rounds Batboy finally settled down after a race around the training course. The team managed to get some data on him after the other Titans arrived. Tim was the one to type out the data and send it out.

The others were just excited to have a potential new member like Supergirl. There was a debate however on whether Batboy was closer to being their generation's Beastboy or if he's technically a Robin.

All the while Dick took a long nap without Danny there to run or fly around the house to wake him.

*elsewhere in Gotham City*

A tiny dirty kitten trembled in the cold rain. Her sharp green eyes tried to see through the wet smog. A weak mew couldn't break through the sound of rain on the pavement.

"Oh, poor thing." A voice broke through the thundering force that pelted her.

A pair of chilled hands lifted her off the ground and tucked her into a jacket and carried her away.

[jhdyuiee]

unconditional

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ pairing: ex-bf!jaehyun x fem!reader

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ warnings/tags: smut!, angst (first day back & i’m breaking yall’s hearts, sorry!!!), unprotected sex, oral (f&m receiving), multiple positions, multiple orgasms, cum eating, marking/biting, smacking, tit/breast play, making out/kissing, fingering, name calling (good girl) and pet names (love), jaehyun is jealous type, rough jaehyun, cliffhanger/mysterious ending (also sad)

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ w.c: 2.7k

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ a.n: hi, jiji is back! hm, it’s been a while. in all honesty, this abrupt break i decided to take worked out in the end bcs school has been a big pain in the ass as of late & so writing has gotten hard. i also would like to apologize once more for honestly everything. however i am back now and yes, yes i know jaehyun leaves tomorrow… sigh, let’s just say that for now bcs if not i’ll start tearing up, lol. don’t forget to stay safe guys, i love you very dearly & thank you for waiting, i will be back with so much more! 🤍

the rain came pouring down hard and unexpectedly. you were not prepared for this at all, so you took shelter inside a cafe. you settled on waiting until the rain calmed down so you could go home.

staring at the gloomy weather made you rather gloomy as well. you never had fond memories of the rain, no dancing in the rain with your lover. instead, it was almost as if the rain brought your life some type of bad luck.

“y/n?” a male voice calls for you, causing you to turn.

your eyes widened, lips slightly parting at the person who stood in front of you.

“jaehyun?” you say lowly, low enough for the two of you to hear.

his face too changes, it’s almost like he’s trying to process it really was you who was in front of him. you took him in, noting how he hasn’t changed in the 5 years since you’d parted. in fact you’d say he got even more… hotter?

“it really is you,” he says breathlessly, to which you nod. “i-is the seat taken?” he asks as he points to the seat in front of you.

“n-no” you respond. he sits down, looking right at you.

“how have you been?” he starts off by asking.

“well… i-i suppose i’ve been fine. how about you?”

he thinks for a second before responding. “i could be better,” he says, chuckling. your heart nearly melting at the sight of his dimples, the very ones you used to adored.

he asks you more questions about how the past 5 years had gone, you too gaining insight on his past 5 years. there was never any mention if you or him were in a relationship during the past 5 years, it was almost like a forbidden topic.

you mindlessly turn to the window, noting how the rain had finally stopped but the clouds were still there. you didn’t know whether to leave mid-conversation or stay a while longer. it had been 5 years, 5 excruciating years without him… to leave him now was-

“are you going to leave?” his questions bring you back to him.

your mouth opens, then closes, and opens again but he interrupts. “don’t leave… not yet. instead, please stay with me for today y/n,” he asks.

you didn’t even hesitate, already settling on your answer before he even finished asking you. you two leave the cafe, you follow him walking alongside him under his umbrella. your head filled with the endless possibilities of how today could go and where the night would lead you.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

“y/n,” jaehyun whispers into your ear in a sultry tone.

your hot breath tickled his ear as your eyes interlocked with his lustful eyes. you wanted him, he wanted you. it had been so long since you’ve felt not only his touch, but a touch at all.

“can i?” he whispers as his eyes are on your lips. you nod, inviting him in.

his lips crash onto yours, melting together as they once used to. he started off gentle, almost as if he were testing the waters before involving the kiss into something more rough and filled with desire. it brought you back to the days of 5 years ago.

his hands traveled to the back of your head, tugging on your hair. his tongue fighting its way inside you until it began crashing with yours. you started feeling weak, legs almost giving out but he held you. he pressed you against the wall, body nearly melting into yours. you could feel his hardened member as it pressed against you.

you moaned into the kiss, trying to say his name. he tugged on your bottom lip, finally departing from your lips. your eyes watery, face feeling hot all over. your dazed gaze finding jaehyun’s lustful one. jaehyun groans before sinking onto his knees. you knew where this was going, so you helped him.

you began taking off your shirt, bra, and unbuttoning your jeans, taking them off. just as you were about to take off your panties, his hands stopped you. “just open your legs for me,” he says, to which you obliged.

jaehyun gives you one last look before disappearing in between your legs. you felt his lips nip and kiss on your inner thighs, making sure to mark you up. his wet tongue licks your already soaked panties, moaning when he gets a small taste of you. a taste he has been dying to have for 5 years.

sliding your panties to the side he licks your cunt up once, getting a full taste of you now. jaehyun almost swears he’s addicted to you again. “how i’ve missed this taste,” he moans, meeting your eyes again before diving back inside you.

his tongue swipes up your slit one more time before using his two thumbs to spread your pussy lips apart. he lets his tongue intrude inside your entrance, sliding against your gummy walls. you moaned rather loudly at the intrusion, tightening around his tongue. jaehyun could feel as your walls throbbed around his tongue, his cock hardening at the thought of how your cunt would feel wrapped nicely around him. jaehyun cursed himself, finding himself too impatient.

you began chanting his name, crying it out with every fucking of his tongue. he found your voice so sweet, so beautiful like a song he could hear on repeat and never get tired of. your fingers grabbed onto his soft locks of hair, grinding yourself on his face. your clit rubbing against his nose, you felt yourself reaching your end already. jaehyun knew you far too well too, knowing you were reaching your end as well. so he grips onto your thighs, fucking his tongue quicker and when he feels your walls clench around him he pulls his tongue out.

you were left on edge, whining at the loss of sensation of not being able to cum. jaehyun didn’t look up, busying himself with kitty licking your cunt. he kissed your sensitive clit, once, twice, three times. so lost you failed to notice his two digits that already worked their way along your slit.

“j-jaehyun?” you asked hazily, looking down at the male as he already stared straight at you. “wha- oh my god!” you moaned out the last part when you felt his two digits plunge inside your soaking cunt. the squelching sound echoing in the doorway, you didn’t even worry about if your neighbors heard. you were far too focused on the way his fingers fucked inside you over and over so quickly. already sensitive from his tongue, you were close to cumming again.

“i-i’m gonna c-cum!” you breathlessly groaned, biting down on your lips so as to not shout again. jaehyun had no intention of leaving you on edge again, so he fucked his fingers into you faster and deeper. he attached his lips onto your clit, toying with it. he remembered how much you loved it when he would teasingly dote on your clit. jaehyun knew your body as if it were his first language.

you let out a gasp before you finally came all over his hand and face. you hadn’t cum like that in a while, your fingers only being able to pleasure you so much. jaehyun licked you up one more time before kissing your clit. he got up, holding your body up before you could fall onto the ground. your legs were giving up already.

he shoved his soaked fingers into your mouth, your tongue licking them clean. “you did so good, love. was always such a good girl for me,” he whispers. his way of words, too, always turned you on.

when you finally licked him clean, he removed his hand from your mouth. in a split second his demeanor changes, his eyes turning more gentle. “as much as i wanna be inside you, i don’t have a condom. so-” you interrupt him. “i-it’s alright jae, please just… i wanna feel you.”

your words too turned him on, in a matter of seconds his pants and boxers were off. his aching cock standing proud. “jump,” he tells you.

you jumped, legs wrapping around his waist. your back still against the wall. his cock rubbed along your soaking slit before his leaking tip plunged into your entrance. 

“fuck- you’re so tight, no one fucked this pretty pussy while i was gone?” he groans. you didn’t respond, already drunk stupidly on his cock that was snugly wrapped around your gummy walls. it had been too long since you’d taken anything like his.

your eyes widened when you felt a smack against your ass cheek. “i asked you a question, or are you too drunk already to answer,” he says in a rough tone.

“uh, ye-yes b-but they don’t c-compare to y-you!” you moaned loudly when you felt him thrust into you rougher, deeper.

jaehyun was always the jealous type when it came to you, you were his and his alone is what he thought. in his world, no one was allowed to have you, it was the one thing he regretted when you two broke up. he couldn’t fathom the fact that some filthy bastard would be able to lay his hands on you, someone as tasteful as you.

“no one could leave you satisfied, right love?” he asks you, to which you just repeatedly say no. his mouth forms into a smile before his lips find themselves on your shoulder. his lips kiss along them, traveling to your neck, and jaw before coming down to your tits.

he pecks one of your tits before wrapping his mouth around your nipple. he accidently bites on your nipple when he feels you clench around his cock. jaehyun mutters a small curse as he kisses his way to your other breast. it receives the same attention as the previous one, only that this time he doesn’t accidentally bite your nipple.

“such perfect tits… were always my favorite,” jaehyun mutters, kissing your tit before parting from it. “now then, are you ready?” he asks you.

“y-yes please fuck me, be rough like you used to,” you said desperately as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

jaehyun’s hands grip onto the bottom of your ass where he lifts you up slightly before plunging you back down on his cock, chucking at your choked out moan. you truly were the cutest, he loved you so very much.

he slides his cock in and out, out and in, of you. he groaned against your exposed neck as you repeatedly clenched around him. you couldn’t help it, jaehyun fucked you so deeper, cock reaching your womb with every thrust. it wouldn’t be long before you’d cum again.

crushing you to the wall, he secures you against it so he could maneuver one of his hands to your clit. he used his thumb to rub the poor thing, “cum, cum on my cock like the good old days love.”

and so you do, erupting around his cock that still fucked into you. you knew he wouldn’t stop until he came, so you waited, encouraging him with filthy words to get him worked up. it was doing the trick, you felt him twitch inside you.

“whe-where do you w-want me to cum?” he asks you, thrusting into you quickly, nearly at his release.

“in mmh-me!” you moaned, clenching around him. “a-are you sure?” he questions you.

“y-yes, i’ll buy a pill tomorrow– please, just please i wanna feel your warmth inside me~”

“fuck,” jaehyun curses, filling you up with his seeds. his lips crashing onto yours as you milked him of his cum.

he parts from the steamy kiss you two just shared to carry you to your bedroom. he still remember the layout of your apartment. jaehyun drops you on your bed, and you watch as he takes off his shirt, sneakily glancing at his still hardened member. your mouth is nearly drooling all the more.

“turn around, on your hands and knees love,” jaehyun says, watching as you obliged to his every word. he watched as you arched your back, ass sticking out nicely, leaking with his cum. he couldn’t resist smacking your ass, left and right roughly. you moaned against your bed comforter, clenching it tightly as you got smacked from behind. you feel his warm cum dripping down your thigh, you try clenching your entrance– jaehyun taking notice.

“how cute, trying to make sure it doesn’t slip out?” he teasingly says before jerking his cock, bringing it to your slit. he rubs against your juices and his cum before stretching your gummy walls once more. it was incomprehensible how tight you always were, just right for him– just made for him.

“how is it love? you always loved it when i took you from behind, didn’t you?” he continues to tease you. “i love it! i love your cock so much j-jae, so good~”

he gripped your hips tighter, tight enough to leave prints the next day. you felt as his tip touched your g-spot so clearly, reaching your womb with every thrust in. jaehyun watches as you begin to wiggle underneath, shaking your ass against him. he smirks, smacking your ass which jiggled from his touch.

a white ring formed around his cock, a mixture of you both. it oddly enough ignited him, fucking into you in rapid, deeper strokes. your tears and drool adorning the comforter. your tight walls hugging his cock tightly, and with one smack to your ass you came for a third time. you gushed all over his pelvis.

“good girl,” jaehyun mutters, continuing his ministrations before he too came once again. only this time he didn’t part from your pussy, fucking you in slow, gentle thrust.

by the time he finished, he laid on your bed. jaehyun was exhausted, and you were too but… you still had something up your sleeve. crawling to him you stopped on his side. “wh-what are you doin-” jaehyun gets interrupted mid-sentence when he feels your lips kiss his tip. he didn’t stop you, in fact he wanted you to continue.

you spit on his cock, jerking it as to spread your saliva along his shaft. your eyes traveling back to jaehyun who hungrily looked at you. going back to his cock you lower your head, opening your mouth so you could finally take him inside. you shoved his cock inside until the tip reached your throat, you gagged and groaned against his cock when you felt him twitch inside. staying like that for a while longer, trying to get accommodated. once you did, you started bobbing your head on his cock, using your tongue to lick along his shaft. never forgetting to tease his slit, something he loved.

you felt as one of his hands tugged on your hair, helping you to better move yourself on his cock. jaehyun was a mess, he felt blessed– praised the lords above. he tried thinking of the nastiest atrocities known to mankind as to not bust so quickly, but that proved to be an impossible task. i mean, how could he when you so beautifully wrapped your sweet mouth around his cock.

and so it wasn’t long before he came inside your mouth, your mouth feeling his warmth before swallowing it down. you now felt so full, unable to take anymore. jaehyun too, you milked him dry, taking all of him in you.

you crawled to him, laying beside him. he engulfs you into his embrace, kissing you so tenderly. you two were exhausted but for what it was worth, it wasn’t regretful. his hand strokes your back, playing with your hair. it was peaceful, so peaceful that you secretly wished for your days to be like this. you were almost lulled to sleep by jaehyun before you opened your eyes when he whispered into the quiet room.

“we’re unconditionally timeless, and so is our love.”

far too exhausted to reply back, you just smile. you snuggled into his body, melting into him before you drifted off to dreamland. however, it wasn’t until you woke up the next day and felt the cold that you knew. 

jaehyun was gone, gone from your life once more. the intimate night you two shared last night, his parting gift.

there was no getting back together, no peaceful nights where the two of you lay in each other’s embrace. you cried and cried that entire morning, and silently prayed for a day where you two could reunite again. for fate to align you two again because after all…

jeong jaehyun was your first love and last love.

© jhdyuiee

2024. 11. 03

final a.n: AHHHHH, jae leaves tomorrow. i don’t know what to do guys, like my man is leaving for the next 2 years. like what do you mean my man who has served needs to serve more?! consider this story as my last jaehyun fic while he is still a free man, lol, and no this doesn’t mean i’ll stop writing abt him. instead, think of this as a new beginning (?) okay i think that’s enough… i’ma go now! i hope you all enjoyed this read (wrote it in one day, very proud of my dedication after all the chaos school has brought me) and i’ll be sure to upload lots this month! stay safe, may we jaehyun fans make it until may 2026!

p.s: the cover picture makes me go feral, i just had to include it!

[jmstoesblog]

It’s not over

Pairing: possessive! Ex-boyfriend! Jungkook x fem!reader

released: 15.03.24

Summary: Seems like the story with your ex was not over yet.

Warnings: smut, makeout, humping, fingering, dirty talk, little degradation, public sex, sex in the restroom, somebody hearing you two, he calls oc a bitch,

Wc: 2,200+

Note: this is my first time writing smut, let me know if I could do anything better. I wanna improve myself. Also the character “sehun” is not supposed to represent anybody. He’s just an imaginary character. I left the ending open cause I don’t know how to end it 😭 not proofread!!

Masterlist

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“Thank you.” You smile at the boy, sehun, as he pulls out the chair for you.

You’re on a date with him. He’s your work friend who’s had a crush on you for a looongg time.

When he got to know you broke up with your ex- boyfriend—Jungkook— he could finally ask you out but you rejected him because you weren’t ready to be in a new relationship yet. After a few months— 3 exactly— you decided to give in and have one date with sehun.

He’s not really your type but you’re giving it a chance because, why not? Jungkook wasn’t your type either and you two dated for two and a half year.

Jungkook knows what he wants, he’s bold, can be a asshole sometimes, is a pervert, only thinks with his dick… and the list goes on.

But on the other hand he is very sweet, caring, funny and cute!

But dating him was…. different.

He is really possessive and gets jealous easily which results in you two having angry sex.

But you still loved him…… until he got too much and you decided you two are better off alone.

Jungkook was heartbroken and tried getting back with you but you stood your ground. He would buy you gifts and flowers. Come to your work at lunchtime and try to take you out. You remember one time it was raining like crazy and he was outside of your house on his knees, begging you to take him back, and promised to be better.

You were stubborn and didn’t give in because you knew he wouldn’t change.

A month ago he stopped all of this and finally left you alone. You’re not going to lie you do miss him but it’s better this way.

“So, what do you want to order?” Sehun sweetly smiles at you and holds your hand which is on the table.

You smile back and hope he doesn’t notice you’re uncomfortable with him touching you like that, “The steak sounds good. I think I’ll order that.”

“I heard the steak here is the best!” He smiles, you smile back. He has a cute smile!

After he placed both orders, he tried to start a conversation with you as you were not trying to bother to start one.

It hurt him because he knows you’re not like that. You talk a lot but he just assumed you were in a bad mood.

“I’m sorry, I just feel weird.” You apologize noticing his uneasy state.

“Why? What’s wrong?” He’s so sweet, you feel bad for behaving like that.

“It’s nothing, just a weird feeling.” He nods, not questioning you further.

After the drinks arrived, you gulped down the water and almost spit it all out.

Jungkook was here.

He was smirking when you looked at him with shock and fear in your eyes. He was sitting a few tables away from you.

He head skinny jeans on, hugging his thick thighs. He is wearing his usual combat boots, a black shirt with a leather jacket. He is wearing many jewelry’s like rings, chains, bracelets and not to forget his piercings. Silver hoops adorn his ear on both sides, his hair is parted in the middle and don’t hide his eyebrow piercing. Looking down you notice two lip rings. Oh god.

His smirks widens at you checking him out like that. He still has that effect on you.

“I-I need to use the bathroom.” You cut him off and leave, not waiting for a response.

You enter the bathroom and enter a stall.

“Shit! What do I do!? Why is he here?? Ugh!” You groan in frustration.

After a month of leaving you and giving you hope he’s leaving you alone, he comes back?!

The bathroom door gets opened and from under the stall you see…. black combat boots….. he whistles noticing the restroom is completely empty, except you hiding somewhere.

He whistles louder and opens the first stall door. Empty. He slams it back shut and opens the next one. Empty. He slams it back shut and opens the next one. Empty again. He slams it shut. He keeps going until he is in front of the stall in which you are in.

He whistles even louder.

“Oh, baby.” He laughs. “Open the door. Wanna talk to you.”

“No, are you crazy? You can’t just come into the ladies room like that!”

“Calm down, nobody’s here… except us, so open the door while I’m asking nicely.”

You take a deep breath and open the door, “Look, you have to go, we’re over.” You try to make him understand.

“You decided that! You didn’t give me any chance to prove myself! You just told me that right of the bat and left without hearing me out first!”

He takes a step closer, standing in the doorway now.

“You just gave up on our relationship— our love— like that! You didn’t give us a chance. You didn’t give me a chance to prove myself, I’ve changed!”

He takes another step.

“Why don’t we give us another chance?” He now speaks in a softer voice, trying to convince you. “I will forget about that little boy waiting outside, yeah baby?”

“If you choose to come with me now, all is forgotten baby. I’ll treat you dinner after that we go to my place and I’ll fuck the daylights out of you, yeah?”

You roll your eyes at him. “You’re only thinking with your dick right now, Jungkook!” You push him back. “I have had enough! I don’t want to be with you! Why can’t you understand!?” You yell at him.

He clicks his tongue, “i have had enough too, you know? You’re acting like a bitch right now, you know that? I’m trying to save our relationship and you’re acting like some stupid bitch.” He takes a step closer and closes the stall door with his foot.

He pulls you closer by your waist. “Why can’t you understand? It’s simple, I want you, you want me.”

“It’s not that simple. You act like a possessive controlling freak. And I’ve had enough of it.”

“I don’t want to be with yo—“

He slams you against the wall and smashes his lips against yours, kissing the life out of you. You try pushing him but he’s too strong.

“What do you even see in him, huh?” Jungkook mumbles against your lips, “bet he can’t even satisfy you,” he chuckles darkly, “can’t even protect you, like I do.” He kisses you again, “can’t make you laugh like I do.”

Your lips and his lips are swollen from all the kissing, he smirks at the sight, “you look so pretty,” he smiles, “you even dressed up…. for him.” His smile drops.

“It’s a date, did you expect me to come in sweatpants and a torn shirt?” You state the obvious, in a duh tone.

“No, I expected you to not come to this date at all. We’re not finished, how can you start dating after 4 months? Did the two and a half years mean nothing to you?” You can tell he’s hurt by your actions.

You feel……guilty?

You do love him, but it was getting too much for you.

“I changed. I really did, baby. Give me a chance and I’ll prove myself to you.” He sounds sincere.

He closes the space between you two and gently kisses you, holding your head in his large hands. This time you kiss back, lost in the pleasure.

He moves his head down and starts sucking on your neck. Soon his gentle sucking turns into harsh biting, you moan at the feeling. He makes sure to mark your whole neck, so everyone knows who you belong to. Especially sehun.

“Fuck,” Jungkook mutters, “you smell so good.” Jungkook come back up and pecks your lips before telling you to jump which you do. You wrap your legs around his waist and give him a squeeze, “want you.” You whine, Jungkook clicks his tongue, “oh? Now you want me?”

“You wanted me to beg, baby? Is that it?”

Your core is right above his hard cock. You start humping and moan in delight, “feels good, baby?” He chuckles into your ear.

He presses his hand firmly on your clothed pussy, “I can already feel you drippin’ for me.”

He slaps your count making you wince. He torns your panties, you gasp, “they were expensive!”

“Don’t worry I’ll buy you hundreds of them.” He mumbles before leaning in to kiss you. In the kiss he slaps your bare pussy causing you to gasp and grip his shoulders tighter, your arousal is on his hand.

He uses the opportunity to slide his tongue in your mouth and explore it. He sucks on your tongue and moans.

He circles your hole and abruptly pushes a finger in. He knows you like being fingered while he is wearing rings, sometimes it hurts but that adds to the pleasure. The mix of pain and pleasure is just too good.

You hide your face in his neck, “s- so good!” You moan, “yeah? You like that?” He says in a husky voice.

“You like it hard, don’t you? You filthy slut.” You whine at his words, getting more turned on. He sinks another finger in.

His wrist flicks up, fingers going in and out of you at a fast pace, “want more,” you bite his neck to quieten your moans, “more?” He asks you, you nod, “please.” You beg.

Jungkook likes being in control and having you beg for him, turns him on and boosts his ego.

“Please, what baby? What do you want?”

“Want you in me,” he leaves little kisses on the side of your face, “Yeah? want my cock in you?” He whispers in your ear.

You nod, your mouth parting from the pleasure. Jungkook chuckles at your state.

Just as you’re about to come, he pulls away, “I was about to,” you don’t finish your sentence as you whine. Jungkook lazily smiles, “I’m gonna give you something better.”

You unwrap your legs around him and stand on your own legs. He pushes his pants down along with his underwear after unzipping his pants. You drool at the sight of his hard, thick, veiny cock.

You drop to your knees, ready to suck him off. But Jungkook stops you, “As much as I would like to have my cock in your mouth, I don’t have the patience to wait anymore.”

He pulls you up by your shoulder and slams his cock into you, he swallows your moans and screams by kissing you. He doesn’t move, letting you adjust to his size.

“Fuck, baby! You’re so tight.”

He starts moving slow, letting you feel all of him. “Faster,” you plead.

He starts going faster and smacks your asscheek before groping it and giving it a good squeeze.

Meanwhile, sehun is sitting at the table wondering why you’re taking so long. He decides to look for you, “maybe she needs help? or something happened!?” He gasps, standing up and making his way to the restroom.

“Should I go in? No, I can’t.” He talks with himself.

Meanwhile you’re having one of the best fucks ever, Jungkook grips your chin and leans forward, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Did she leave? No, no, her purse is still here.” Sehun talks with himself, earning glances from people but he doesn’t care, “is she taking a poop? That long?”

“Jungkook im sorry,” you apologize and he starts laughing, he throws his head back, “now you’re sorry? Once you get this cock your brain starts thinking? Aren’t you a pathetic little slut?”

You whine loud at his words. You know he doesn’t intend to hurt you with his words.

“Will you come back to me now?”

Tears start rolling down your tears, you nod. He smirks, “all it took was a fuck?” He laughs at you, mocking you.

“Y/n?” A gentle knock is heard.

You widen your eyes and jungkook doesn’t stop thrusting into you. He slowed down his pace tho.

“Y/n , are you in there? Are you okay? Did something happen?” Jungkook rolls his eyes at him and you shoot him a glare, before you’re able to speak Jungkook starts thrusting into you fast, skin clapping sounds resonating of the walls.

You moan loudly and sehun widens his eyes and quickly leaves. Not just the door but the restaurant.

He saw Jungkook earlier but thought it’s coincidence that your ex boyfriend is also here. But seeing him follow you after you went to the restroom was weird. He had a feeling something was fishy and he was right. Guess your story with your ex boyfriend didn’t end yet.

“That’s right, baby. Let him know who you belong to.” You moan louder, “good girl.” He praises you.

“Just like that. Good.” He grunts.

You’re too lost in all the pleasure, forgetting your ‘date’.

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Do NOT copy or translate

Thanks for reading 💕

Masterlist Next door

[kingsoowolves]

what comes after: no one | j.sc

part one | part two (w/ Anton)

pairing: college fwb!sungchan x fem!reader word count: 21.6k

author’s note: soooo, I’m back to writing after a long break. this is my first riize fic and Sungchan practically hauled this monster out of my insides until it became 21k. I wrote most of this while listening to sabrina carpenter’s new album and i think sharpest tool, juno and lie to girls fit really well with the theme of this work. english is not my first language, so please be kind if you're going to point out any mistakes. I hope you guys like this.

contents: smut. some fluff. angst, angst & angst (specially towards the end). switch!reader and switch!sungchan. sex with a condom, fingering, oral (f. and m. receiving). pet names. ass man!sungchan. reader has thoughts on family trauma and self-hatred. random idols mentioned for worldbuilding. sungchan is pretty much an asshole in the end. no HEA.

you can also read this work on my ao3, if you'd like

You feel pathetic. With a raincoat covered in water splatters and standing on your favorite white sneakers — now mud covered and wet — in front of your situationship’s apartment after ringing the doorbell, you truly feel like an idiot.

It’s been over two weeks since he last texted you and here you are, waiting for him to open his door after calling him on a whim, asking for permission to come and see him. But it was a rough day in a rough week in a rough month in a rough trimester and when you finished your last exam of the day and the rain started pouring down while you were on the bus on your way home, your heart made a last-minute decision to ring him up.

So now here you are, feeling pathetic.

Surprisingly, despite the radio silence for the last fortnight, the door opens quickly to reveal a worried Sungchan with a fresh and fluffy towel in his hands as he urges you inside, hand clasping over yours to pull you away from the cold and into the warmth of his home.

He closes the door with his free hand and his eyes instantly fall onto your body to inspect the damage caused by the storm, the dirt and the finals. You can’t help but feel heat under his gaze, your limbs already growing hot after being in his presence for two seconds. It’s your body's natural response to him since the day you met.

“Why didn’t you call me after you finished your exam?” are his first words to you as his hands take your bag and your raincoat off of your arms, both items falling on the floor around your ankles. “I would’ve picked you up.”

The way he says it almost makes you want to apologize for not doing it, but, in all honesty, you don’t quite believe he would’ve picked you up. Two weeks of not talking is a considerable amount of time, after all. So you bite your tongue and reply with the second thing that comes on your head instead.

“Didn’t even think about it. The rain started after I took the bus,” you say, feeling him wrap you in the towel he brought, hands pressing on your arms to make it absorb the rainwater covering you.

He stays silent as he dries you up, expertly and swiftly moving the towel over the areas of your body that were most affected by the downpour, his furrowed eyebrows showing his concentration. You have to actively stop yourself from reaching up to smooth them over, your hands itching to touch him. But in just fifteen seconds your upper half is dried and he squats down to inspect your legs.

He stops with his right hand on your left calf, looking up at you once he sees the mud covering your jeans.

“Shit, you’re a mess,” he sighs, a small chuckle coming out of his throat, too. “You’re gonna have to take a shower.”

“Oh,” you say, mind still understanding his request while your eyes focus on his. After a beat, you realize that you feel kind of insecure of showering in his place when you don’t know where you both stand on your relationship, so you shake your head. “I can go home to shower and come back later, if it’s okay with you.”

He shakes his head back at you. “No, it’s not. That’d be dumb,” he says, standing up in his full height and making you change your gaze from looking down to looking up at him. You feel a pang in your chest at the rejection, thinking he’s saying it would be stupid to come back to him after, but he smooths one hand over your shoulder and clarifies. “Why would you do that when there’s a perfectly good bathroom here you can use?”

You blink at him, your head again very slow in keeping up with his words. Maybe it’s because it’s been a rough day in a rough week in a rough month in a rough trimester. Maybe it’s because your last brain cell was burned while taking your international law exam. Maybe it’s being close with him again after some time, seeing his deep brown eyes, smelling his cologne and standing in his apartment that makes you so dull. Maybe it’s every one of those reasons. At this moment, you think you’re more pathetic than ever.

And you’re pretty sure Sungchan thinks you are, too, because his features crease again as he looks at you, taking a step back and tugging on your hand to come with him. “Come on. I’ll put your clothes in the washer while you shower.”

You quickly step on the heels of your shoes to take them off and follow him down the hallway to the small bathroom by the end of it. Sungchan fetches you a sealed bar of soap from the cabinet under the sink and a new fluffy towel from his dresser. Then, he waits outside of the bathroom for you to strip off your clothes and hand him every piece — hoodie, shirt, pants, undergarments and socks — through the half open door. He smiles at you for only a second before turning on his heels to take the clothes to the washer, saying you can take your time.

You leave the door leaning on its threshold, not quite closed, because, first of all, Sungchan has seen you naked multiple times and there’s no reason to be shy now, and second of all, you half expect him to come join you. So, you step in the shower, the white tiles cold against your toes as you turn the tap to burning hot just how you like it.

It’s relaxing having the heated water hitting your naked skin after being out in the cold with wet clothes for minutes that felt like years. You indulge yourself in it, sighing and letting your limbs loose, facing down and resting the top of your head against the tiles under the head of the shower, moving your body to fully stand under the water to feel it hit your shoulders as your mind travels back to Sungchan. It’s hard to over analyze his every move, touch and word when he’s just a few steps from you. But you’re an expert on doing that in every possible scenario by now. So, you recall every second of your five-minute interaction with him since you stepped inside his place, trying to look for signs of anything. You try to discover if he’s bothered by your presence or if he looked happy to see you, if he helped you out because of his affection or just general kindness, if he was worried because he cares about you in a special way or just because he cares. Still, you can’t come up with answers to your doubts because he was always pretty hard to read anyway.

You try to discover if he’s bothered by your presence or if he looked happy to see you, if he helped you out because of his affection or just general kindness, if he was worried because he cares about you in a special way or just because he cares. Still, you can’t come up with answers to your doubts because he was always pretty hard to read anyway.

Sungchan is a man of few actions and even lesser words. Although you’ve seen him being comfortable and goofy around friends, he often keeps to himself and can even be described as a shy person most of the days. Even though his playful side comes up occasionally when he’s with you, most of the time you are met with silence that makes you conjecture a million theories that are never proven.

Plus, you’re achingly jumbled today and the truth is you always feel foolish around him. Like your strong attraction to him makes you dim-witted, tongue-tied and incoherent. Just like the first time you ever saw him.

The first time you ever saw him was in your freshman year in the second semester at college, in your Ethics class. He’s a STEM major, which obviously meant he was taking it for an extra credit, but you didn’t know that yet when you walked into the east building expecting to see a class filled with law students and came across the tall and hot math nerd.

One moment, you are hurriedly walking up the steps to your seat as the lecture hall fills with scholars and your professor takes his place in front of the board. In the next one, you’re bumping into a desk and sending a collection of papers and one very pricey scientific calculator to fall on the ground with loud bangs and blasts. You’re desperate as you squat down and rest your books on the following step to search for the batteries and the hood of the calculator that flew around during your mishap. And as your hand finds the last battery missing, another hand clasps over it to retrieve the item and you glance up to meet Sungchan’s eyes. You both stand up at the same time, in which you notice how tall he is, your senses taking in his soft hair, strong grip and big eyes surrounded by his glasses’ frame. And then you flinch, taking your hand back from his and muttering a small hushed apology before walking the last steps to your desk and avoiding eye contact with him for the rest of the lesson.

When class is dismissed, despite feeling extremely embarrassed, you gather up your courage and walk down to his desk to apologize profusely, saying how deeply bad you’re feeling and asking if his calculator is still working or if you have to work out a plan to pay for a new one for him.

“Don’t worry. It’s working fine,” he says, the sound of his voice sending a crazy shiver up your spine you never felt before. The first one of many to come. “But if you’re feeling deeply bad about it, you can take me out for dinner.”

You blink at him. The first one of many dim-witted moments to come in his presence. And he chuckles, fingers brushing over your elbow as he steps back from his desk and maneuvers you fully in front of him. You feel your organs internally jolting, like you’ve been struck by an electric shock or like you were numb and dead until now and have suddenly been relieved by a crazy scientist. And it’s all because of his small touch.

“I’m kidding,” he announces after you fail to reply, removing his hand from you, his eyes looking down and the tips of his ears tinting red as he says it. “We’re fine. There’s no need to apologize anymore.”

“Thank you for being so understanding,” you reply, finally getting out of your head and finding your voice again after being revived by his fingertips. “Really. Most people wouldn’t be this chill.”

He walks around you with one hand on the strap of his backpack and steps down two levels of the stairs, becoming almost eye-level with you when he raises an eyebrow up and says, “Guess I’m not like most people.”

And then he turns his back on you, finishing the final steps of the lecture hall and getting out as you stupidly blink at his back.

It’s ridiculous how much you become obsessed with him after that.

Even though you consider yourself smart enough to not develop a crush on your first year of college, you walk head first into that booby trap. Very quickly and happily, too. 

It takes you a few days after your first meeting to learn that he’s actually a sophomore majoring in biological engineering, which didn’t help at all, because your social sciences brain couldn’t understand a thing about STEM. You also learn that he’s originally from another state and that, yes, he is in your Ethics class for an extra credit. From observing him in your shared class, you figure out he actually keeps to himself and likes to doodle on his textbook while the professor is talking. From a couple of shared acquaintances, you’re told that he’s shy, has never been seen with a partner before and doesn’t really attend parties. He’s a quiet one, they say. So much so that when you tell the person that he jokingly asked you out when you bumped into him, they don’t quite believe you.

As the weeks go by with no new interaction between you two except for the few stolen glances you throw his way during lessons, you start to think you imagined the whole thing. The electric buzz in your inner system when he touched you, the blush on his cheeks and ears, the way his eyes scanned you up and down and how his hand lingered a little too long on your arm… It could all just be a fleeting moment. Or only a natural response of your body from seeing and being close to such an attractive person. It certainly couldn’t mean anything special. You convince yourself that it meant nothing.

And then, the next day, you see him at a café close to campus. He’s there with a few close friends, chatting up and joking with each other, and you’re intrigued by how his smiles are easier to appear and how loud he can laugh in a candid and carefree moment. Also, you feel that same attraction again. That gut-punching-needing-to-be-closer magnetic pull between you two. It makes your nerves stand on end, goosebumps raise all over your body and your focus zero on him. It makes your skin prickle, like every atom of your body is buzzing in excitement and craving to be touched by him. And by the way Sungchan’s breath catches when his eyes meet yours and his posture changes, secretly eyeing you up and down every chance he gets, you can tell he feels it, too.

But it takes so long for you to be close to him. Being from strikingly different majors, you are almost never in the same parts of campus. Apart from the class you two met in and the programming class you took in your sophomore year — which you swore to your friends it was just because you were curious about it and not because of the student body attending to it — you mostly live different lives and stand out of each other's ways.

However, slowly and surely, your life becomes intertwined with his, like someone is playing puzzles with the pieces of you both. First, you become a TA to your environmental law Professor and end up tutoring one-on-one with his cousin Sungho. One day, while you are reviewing the paper he wrote for his class, Sungho tells you how Sungchan said “she’s super hot” when he told him you were his TA. You have to hide your smile behind the paper sheets in your hands to not give away that you’re attracted to him and scold Sungho for distracting you. That’s the first time you have actual evidence of Sungchan’s interest in you and it makes you smile for days.

Then, one of your friends starts hooking up with one of his friends and soon enough you are hanging out together in the same group. It helps you discover new things about him to obsess about. Like how he has the cutest mole on the corner of his upper lip you just need to drop a kiss on. And how his closest friends often call him Jinsu and how he always smiles when he hears it. You learn he’s a gym rat. And that he’s always down to help his peers whenever they have a problem and need a hand. It’s so freaking adorable.

And then, you both join in an extracurricular philosophy workshop you could’ve sworn you heard him ask Haneul, your friend, when was the final date of submission to in one of your hangouts. All these new opportunities to meet him frequently allow you to actually talk to him a few times, and soon enough you're sharing stories about your lives, joking and flirting with each other.

And that’s how, finally, in your junior year of college, your and Sungchan’s paths are unmistakably crossed and you become actual friends. So, when you surprisingly see him at a frat party, it’s natural for you to greet him while he plays Super Mario Bros with his friend Sohee. You strike a conversation about how you thought he didn’t like parties and Sungchan confirms it’s true and tells you how Sohee is a member of the fraternity and actually dragged him there. You laugh at his antics and then he jokes about something else so you smile again.

You want to sit next to him to keep your conversation going, but there’s a bunch of people littered across the room in various stages of drunkenness and practically no space left on the couch he’s on. Sungchan notices your eyes searching for a spot and makes as much room as he can, pulling you to sit on the arm of the sofa next to him. Then, he slings one arm around your body, keeping you steady and close to him, and rests his hand on your lap, his other hand joining from your opposite side with the video game controller. While he fixes his grip on the controller to keep playing, his knuckles graze your jeans clad thighs and you realize that you’re trapped around his arms for the time being.

It makes you instantly go rigid, his sudden closeness already making you dizzy and short of breath. And then, like it’s an afterthought of his, Sungchan leans on your side and looks up at you, his eyes carefully watching your reaction as he asks, “Is this okay?”

You purse your lips together and nod even though the thumping of your heart is so loud in your ears you’re not sure you heard him correctly. “Yeah.”

He nods back at you, a close-lipped smile appearing on his lips as he focuses back on the game playing on the TV. You have to concentrate on keeping your breaths steady as the side of his face brushes your arms, his hair soft and his stubble rough on your skin. You have to bite on your lower lip to keep yourself from sighing when his hands press on your thighs or on your lower stomach, controller lying in your lap as he waits for the game to load. Only after a while you feel comfortable enough to sit back against the cushions and let your hand wander to his shoulders, trembling fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt because your hormones are in a frenzy inside of you.

“You having fun?” He asks after they finish off a match on the game, hot breath falling over your arm and sending an electrical current on your body.

“Yeah. Until now, at least,” you reply, dangling your feet under you to give you something to focus on that it’s not him.

“Wanna have more fun?” He asks, and there’s an unmistakable glint in his eye that sends butterflies flying around in your stomach.

“Like what?” You reply, purposely leaning into the obvious sinful intentions laced in his words.

“We can get out of here,” he says then, fingers twitching the hem of your shirt and brushing on your skin, eyes scanning over your features and looking for any signs that you’re uncomfortable by his actions or words. He licks his lips when he notices how your eyes drop to his mouth and moves his hand to play with a strand of your hair before finishing off his proposition. “Have a drink somewhere more private… If you want.”

You know that the drink is an excuse for something else and that somewhere more private is actually his house. But you’ve been wanting this for so long that you have no desire to play it cool or pretend you don’t want this.

“Sure,” is all you reply, accepting whatever fate has in store for you now.

When Sungchan gets up from the couch and says goodbyes to his friends, he grabs your hand for you two to leave together, checking your eyes one last time to be sure you’re willing to do this just as much as him. You smile at him and that seems to be enough to placate his worries, because he smiles back and pushes you to follow through. You know you’ll kiss him as you make your way down the stairs of the frat house, one hand still gripping Sungchan’s and the other texting your friends to let them know you’re leaving with him. You know you’ll at least make out when he shields your side, protecting you from any unsteady drunk that may trip over you as you try to reach the door out of the house. And you’re pretty sure you’ll fuck as you both wait on the sidewalk for the Uber he asked for, his hand intertwined with yours as he hums along with the music from the party.

Still, you pretend like you’re naïve and clueless just for the mystery still hanging in the air.

Once the car pulls up on the curb, Sungchan leads you inside and enters after. He still holds your hand, resting it against his thigh as you take the left seat of the car and he sits back on the right one. The middle seat between you both is vacant and none of you make a move to sit closer to one another. You can cut the tension with a knife as soon as the car moves and the music from the party fades away. Slowly, he starts to play with your hand, rubbing and grabbing at your knuckles and you hold your breath. A moment later, your palm is up on his lap as he spreads your fingers open, his nails softly grazing the length of each and every one of them. He chuckles when the action makes you shiver and you hide your face with your free hand from embarrassment, turning away to look out the window. But then he changes places, splaying his fingers so you can rub your nails on the length of them now, and the same shudder that ran through you takes over Sungchan’s body, a cute blush appearing on his cheeks. Sungchan is a man of few actions and even lesser words. But in that moment, using just the palm of your hands, he chose to become vulnerable to you. His attitude says this is real and I feel it too. And you can’t be more grateful for him finally dropping the mysterious act and becoming transparent for once. At that, you smile and he intertwines his fingers with yours, clutching your hand fully.

You both stop watching your hands to finally look at one another. He sighs contentedly under your gaze and his free hand, the one that isn’t already attached to yours, finds its way on your face, his thumb caressing your cheekbone. His eyes slip to your lips and back to your eyes, searching for something. And only after you nod at him, he dives in, capturing your mouth on his and successfully filling the space in between your seats, leaning his body on yours.

You’ve never been kissed like this before, with so much energy you feel renewed. But you try not to think too much about it and instead feel it as you reciprocate the kiss, your lips and hands restless to show him just how much you felt for him for the past two years.

Sungchan keeps kissing you as the car stops its journey and the driver has to announce you arrived. He keeps kissing you while you walk up the steps of his building to find his apartment. He keeps kissing you whilst he punches the code on his door to get it open. He is still kissing you as you take off your shoes and coats by the hall and he’s leading you inside, whispering a breathless “this is my place” that drives you both into a fit of giggles. He kisses you inside his room, on his bed, as he takes off your clothes. He kisses you even when he puts on the condom and you jerk him off before he slides inside you. He keeps kissing you whilst you adjust to his size and ask him to move faster. When he’s fucking you, he kisses every part of you his lips can reach — your forehead, your cheek, the tip of your nose, your eyebrows, your neck, your ears, your shoulders, your clavicle and your boobs. You think his mouth never leaves your body, never fully at least, when he kisses your lips again whilst you tell him you’re so close. And as you cum, walls spasming and squeezing his cock to milk him dry from his own orgasm, he kisses you one more time.

After, when you’re lying in bed spent and he spoons you, he tells you how much he wanted to do this the first time you met. How you short-circuited his system and made him ask you out on that first moment and how serious he actually was about that. How he didn’t know what to do with himself when you didn’t reply. You chuckle at his confession and let the night wash away his words as you’re lulled to sleep by his warm skin on yours and his groggy soft voice. Before the slumber overtakes you, you swallow the words of your own confession that are burning on your tongue, thinking you’ll have the time to tell him later.

And that’s how you end up here, in a seven-month situationship with him, never quite speaking those words.

By now, it’s nuts the kind of power Sungchan holds over you. And you’re not sure he even knows it. Your relationship — if it even can be called that — is, for the most part, purely skin-on-skin raw sexual desire. Every time you are near Sungchan, you are energetic, your hormones kicking into high gear. For some time, you thought that after a few times sleeping together, you’d be able to get over it and get him out of your system. You hoped that your attraction to him would pass or that it would at least dim. That hooking up would get so common it’d turn boring, that you wouldn’t get the jitters around him anymore or that you’d run out of things to experience and new kinks to try out.

But every time you do it — every time, without fail — you finish it wanting more. You keep coming back to his arms and he keeps letting you in. The chemistry is still off the charts.

You love the way his calloused hands touch you and his soft lips kiss you. You’re crazy about how he has memorized all of your body parts and all of your ticks to make you scream with pleasure in bed. You’re obsessed with how he’s had your skin marked up with his fingers, teeth and scent. You’re captivated by his filthy words on your ear and his gentle hard thrusts against your hips. You’re fixated by how his dick fits perfectly inside you and how he knows how to make you cum in minutes. And you’re haunted by the fact that all of that combined might mean that you are in love with him.

Because sometimes, when you’re not fucking or going about all the stops that would lead you to fuck, you feel genuine deep attachment with him.

In a rare moment he laughs when you tell him how you argued with your crazy conservative forensics’ Professor in front of the Dean in a criminology symposium because he dared to assume asexual women are frigid. Or he lets you lay your head on his chest as he tells you how he and his roommate Shotaro became friends. Or he places a piece of your hair over your ear while you eat dinner together at the pizza place near your place. Or you belt out early 2000’s music together on his beat-up Kia Sephia 1993 while you drive around town. Or you tell him about wanting to change your major to Literature, that you never planned to take Law in the first place, and he encourages you to do what you really want. Or you both stay up late sharing your fears and uncertainties about life after college. Or he pulls you into his arms, holding you closer and tightly against him because your body drifted away from him while sleeping. Or he tells you how he loves your caresses as you pet his hair to lull him back to sleep while the rising sun infiltrates through his room curtains. Or he says he remembered you during the day because he saw your favorite flower blossoming near the building to his calculus class. Or he not so casually asks who was the guy you were talking too close with the last time he saw you on campus, jealousy shining in his eyes. Or he reads the latest philosophy book you recommended and gives you an in-depth review of all the points he found important. Or he buys you a cupcake when you meet up a day after your birthday and acts nonchalant, tips of his ear becoming red, as you ask him what it is for. Or he sends you a Spotify playlist of an artist he thinks you’d really like the sound. Or he asks how your grandmother is doing a few days after you came back from a quick trip home because she was sick.

In those rare moments, you hold yourself together to not bawl your eyes out because of his kind gestures. It’s hard not feeling sentimental being treated with the minimal tenderness when you grew up in a house with strict rules and no space for feelings. Of course, there were the frequent occasions where your parents would scream their lungs out at each other saying the nastiest stuff you ever heard, but, other than that, feelings were bottled up and could only come out in screeches if you were an adult. Your parents turned their maximum effort to make sure food was on the table and you and your siblings were upstanding citizens, and as much as you’re grateful for that, sometimes you resent them for never truly making you feel seen and appreciated.

Maybe that’s the reason why when Sungchan shows you care and desire, you mistake it for love. Because, in those sacred moments in the dead of the night when he shares a part of him with you, something he never told or showed before, you want to crawl out of your skin and into his to become a part of him. That’s when you think — you feel — like you love him. And you feel like maybe he loves you, too.

The fact that he speaks in a gentle and low tone as opposed to the wails you used to listen to as a child is just an added bonus.

After fifteen minutes, you finally close the water tap and the stream of your daydream about Sungchan to step out of the shower. As you dab your body up with a towel, you find out Sungchan has left a change of his clothes for you on the sink while your mind was far away. You quickly dry yourself off and put on the clothes, a pair of his boxers and a set of gray sweatpants and sweatshirt that retains the heat from the hot water on your body and makes you feel like a human again and not a dirty wet popsicle. Then you wipe a hand on the mirror over the sink to get rid of the steam on it and start brushing your hair back with your fingers to redo your ponytail. Once you’re satisfied, you put the towel up to dry and leave the bathroom, walking the small path to Sungchan’s room. You can’t help but notice that Shotaro’s room, that is right beside Sungchan’s, has its door open and lights out, with no signs of Shotaro inside, which means you and Sungchan have the house alone to yourselves. A wicked smile makes its way to your face as you think of all the noise you can make without a care in the world. But you soon tamper your wild thoughts and breath in before knocking on Sungchan’s closed door, only opening it after you hear his permission to come inside.

His bedroom is small and you’ve been in here so many times you already know it by heart. A twin bed by the window, some basic white curtains, a nightstand, a small desk with a chair by the foot of the bed, a dresser just in front of it and that’s it. It’s a tiny room in a tiny apartment, not much different than yours, and you suppose there’s not much else a college student can afford in a building off-campus.

When you come inside, Sungchan is sitting on his chair, laptop open as he types away. And as you close the door again, he turns on his seat to welcome you with a smile on his face.

“Hey,” he says, eyeing you up and down. “Did the clothes fit okay?”

You look down at the attire that so clearly belongs to him but fits you well enough because even though he’s taller than you, you’re more full-figured than him. “Yeah. Thanks for lending me them. And for letting me shower.”

“No problem. I already turned on the dryer for your clothes, they should be done in a minute. I also wiped down your raincoat, sneakers and your bag. Shoes are still in the hall. Raincoat and backpack are right there,” he tells you, pointing at a spot behind you where your belongings are gathered, right near his dresser.

Your eyes follow his direction to recognize where your things are and then you look back to him, feeling like a deer caught in headlights as you lean back on the wall with hands bound behind your back. Even though you wanted to meet him, you feel misplaced now that you’re here. Like the time apart has made you become strangers to one another. You don’t know what to expect anymore. Sungchan has been nothing but welcoming until now, but you keep fearfully anticipating his every move and word, waiting to be rejected, sure that your presence is annoying him and he’ll ask you to leave at any minute.

Contrarily to all of your fears, Sungchan puts you out of your misery as he extends a hand and beckons you to come closer. When you step in his general direction, he takes your hand in his and draws you in so you’re standing in between his legs. With him still seated in his chair, you’re taller than him, and you like the leverage of looking down on him that it gives you. But instead of meeting his eyes with confidence, you focus your gaze on a spot behind his head as you feel his hands wrapping around your waist and you place your own on his shoulders.

It's only when Sungchan moves one hand to your face and tips your chin back that you really look at him. He’s wearing a pair of gray sweatpants that match yours and a white t-shirt that hugs his form and shows his biceps, his fringe styled in a way that leaves a heart-shaped spot on his forehead that you want to drop a kiss on. His reading glasses frame his eyes, the lenses lightly scratched. It’s completely unfair how absolutely ravishing he looks in simple clothing and so little styling.

“Hi there,” he whispers when your eyes stop wandering over his features and finally focus on his face, the smile on his lips making you feel warm all over.

“Hey,” you reply, fingers picking at the fabric of his shirt over his chest for lack of something better to do. “Thank you for everything. You’re the best.”

“Of course, princess,” he says, hand moving to the nape of your neck to pull your face closer. He pecks your lips two times before pulling back. You instantly melt against him, containing the urge to follow his mouth with yours. “I wouldn’t be okay with you standing in those wet cold clothes. Plus, you look cute wearing mine, too.”

You smile shyly at him, your cheeks burning because of the compliment and he nuzzles his nose against yours, muttering a “So damn cute,” before pressing his lips on yours again.

You sigh against him, mouth parting to immediately receive his tongue. It’s slow and sweet, you both getting acquainted with each other again, one of his hands around your waist to press you against his front, and the other one rubbing circles on your nape. Your own hands wrap around his neck and pull at the strands of his hair, earning a soft groan from him. He tastes like mint toothpaste and heaven, and you’re embarrassed by how much you missed this. His closeness, his smell, his touch, his kiss. All of it. All of him. You want him all the time.

“Finals week has been treating you badly, doll?” He asks when you both pull back for air and you groan at his question, hanging your head low and resting your forehead on his right shoulder. He chuckles at you.

“Please, I don’t want to talk about it,” you whimper, the press of his lips on your neck making your voice airy.

He nods and softly pushes your head back so he can look at you again. “Fine, let’s not talk about it. But I still have an essay due tomorrow that I’m trying to finish today, so I don’t think I’ll be able to spend much time with you right now.”

“Oh, okay,” you reply. “You want me to go?”

He shakes his head and looks at you pointedly, muzzling another one of your attempts to flee. “Please stay. I’ll order some food if you’re hungry and you can eat while I work.”

You scrunch your nose at the offer with a hand over your stomach. “I actually feel nauseous after that exam.”

He laughs at you and starts humming, making the most adorable thinking face while he tries to come up with a plan that doesn’t involve you leaving.

“I can charge my phone and watch TikTok videos on your bed while you work? If the sound doesn’t bother you. I’ll make sure the volume is really low.” You suggest. “And after, I don’t know…” You trail off, feeling warm all over again because you actually know exactly what comes after. What comes after is you getting impaled by his dick and writhing in pleasure. And you hope that what comes after is you both finally confessing your feelings for each other, too. But that’s just a hope.

And also, it’s not even the time to think about that, so you shake your head to scare those thoughts away and give him another option, “I can go back home after a while. I actually need to sleep early because I have another exam in the third period tomorrow.”

“Okay, sounds like a plan,” he replies, nodding his head and pulling you in for another long and sweet kiss.

That is interrupted by the familiar pinging sound of a message coming through his laptop iMessage app and your eyes instinctively follow it to check what it is. But Sungchan is quicker than you, scrambling up and turning his torso to reach for the mouse and close the notification before you have the chance to see it. It’s a small moment that doesn’t quite alarm you because you know Sungchan is a private person and there’s no way he’d let you look through his texts. Still, as he turns back to drop a last kiss on your lips and you walk away to search for your phone in your bag, something about it nags at the back of your head.

With your phone and charger in hand and the TikTok app open, you make yourself comfortable on his bed. As your brain forgets all about international laws and politics and gets a serotonin boost from puppies and kittens’ videos, Sungchan pulls your feet from the bed to lay them on his lap as he remains seated on his chair. When he’s clicking away on the mouse or scrolling through his screen to read something, he rests his free hand on your ankles and starts massaging the soles of your feet. The domesticity of it all tugs on your heart and you can’t help but smile as you watch his back. Soon enough, the warmth of his room, his kneading on your feet and the comfy feeling get to you and you start to feel sleepy.

So, you connect your charger plug on the outlet behind Sungchan’s bedside table and hook it up on your phone, letting the device rest on the table as you promise Sungchan you’re just going to close your eyes for a few minutes. Then, you end up falling asleep in just a few seconds.

You feel the warmth first. A source of heat enveloping you in a strong and sturdy body. Then, you feel the gentleness, the soft touch on your hair, the slide of a thumb under your ear that pulls you from your slumber and into the arms of reality.

As you blink your eyes open, you’re met with Sungchan’s deep light brown eyes, illuminated by the lamp on his bedside table. The atmosphere is comfortable. You’re warm and cozy laying on Sungchan’s twin bed with his arms surrounding you. The rain is still falling outside, although now it has turned into a light drizzle. There’s flimsy wind coming in through the small opening of the window that cools the air and prevents everything from becoming too hot. But you like the heat and think you could be easily lured back to sleep because of it.

“Hi there,” Sungchan mutters before you have the chance to close your eyes again, his head resting on the same pillow as yours.

“Hi, Jinsu” you say groggily, rubbing a hand over your sleepy face. You notice how he smiles and his eyes glint at your use of his favorite nickname, and an emotion stirs deep inside you for seeing him so happy with something so simple. 

You get awkward for a moment thinking you must have mucus on your eyes and a bloated face right now, but Sungchan just keeps smiling at you and it’s enough to take your mind away from the embarrassment. His thumb rubs soothing circles on the nape of your neck as you adjust yourself over the sheets. “Sorry for waking you up. I was just getting comfortable to sleep,” he says. 

“S’okay.” You smile back at him, reaching over to caress his hair, your fingers threading through its strands. “For how long did I nap?”

“Two hours or so,” he says, sliding his hand down to your waist. “You snored, too.”

You give him a scoff, followed by a yawn that starts small and turns big. It makes you stretch your whole body, extending all of your limbs from your arms to your toes, cracking your knuckles and everything, and Sungchan gives you space to do so. When you’re finished, you turn on your back, getting comfortable again and closing your eyes briefly with a quiet hum.

“I should probably go, then,” you say with eyes still closed. It was about 7:30 p.m. when you settled in his bed, which means now it’s close to ten. If you want a quality sleep and to wake up on time tomorrow, you actually should get going. But Sungchan’s bed feels too comfy right now. Being in his arms is not bad either. 

You don’t see, but you can feel him scooting over to you, sheets rustling as he gets closer, his nose nuzzling yours and his hand fiddling with the bottom hem of your sweatshirt, your senses heightened by your drowsy mind and the lack of vision.

“You can stay a little while longer,” he replies with a playful tilt in his words, his fingers skimming over your belly button making you jump slightly, and you open your eyes to see the left side of his mouth popping up as he shamelessly presses his body on the side of yours. “I don’t mind.”

“Oh, you don’t?” you mumble, suddenly feeling the need to lower your voice with his lips so close to yours, eyes narrowing at his obvious naughty intentions. “That’s so nice of you.”

“Uh-huh, that’s me,” he finally leans in to give you a peck on the lips. “I’m sooo nice,” it’s the last thing he says before kissing you fully.

This kiss is heavy and intimate. His hand around your neck keeps you in place as he savors you, tongue entering your mouth. He strokes the back of your teeth, the roof of your mouth, the inside of your cheeks and your own tongue, groaning at whatever he finds there. His other hand grazes the skin of your waist tenderly in a way that may have made you think he’d treat you delicately if he wasn’t kissing you with so much fervor and energy. He takes whatever he wants from you until you pull away, already out of breath.

“I thought you were going to sleep,” you tease, lips ghosting over his, and he smirks at you.

He moves his lips to your ear and whispers, “Yeah, but I’m all woken up now,” as his hand moves up and down your stomach, faintly caressing your skin in a way that makes your insides burn. He presses his pelvis on the side of your thigh and you feel his dick hardening while still being constrained inside his pants. “Can’t you feel it?”

You reply a faint "yeah" before he’s all over you again, mouth desperate on yours as he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth and bites, hands gripping your waist and body crowding you against the sheets. He’s consuming you whole and he wants more. And you give it to him. All of you. Honestly, at this point you’d give him whatever he asked.

“You don’t have exams tomorrow?” You ask in between kisses, breathless and shaky, the still sane part of your mind trying to estimate how much time you have together and what you’d be able to do with it.

Sungchan shakes his head slightly and kisses the corner of your mouth, putting a strand of your hair that’s fallen free from your ponytail behind your ear. “I’m finished with exams,” he whispers and kisses your cheek, then moves his lips to your earlobe, kissing there, too. “I have all the time in the world for you right now, princess.”

You want to kiss him again, but his head moves up, his nose sinking into your hair and deeply inhaling before pressing his lips on your hairline. “I missed the smell of your shampoo so much,” he says, eyes focusing back on your face as he slides his lips to your temple.

You sigh against him, his words making your heart flutter. Still, you can’t help but tease him when his eyes meet yours again. “Well, if you contacted me earlier, you wouldn’t have missed it,” you say, pouting at him, your hand bawling at his shirt as you finally show how upset the two weeks of radio silence made you feel.

Sungchan laughs at you and cradles his hand on the side of your face, his thumb caressing over your cheekbone as he holds you close. “Oh, did you get mad I didn’t text you, princess?” He mutters, his eyes glinting while yours are sad. “You should’ve texted me, then.”

You keep pouting, making a dissatisfied noise with his reply. Then, you cast your eyes down to the collar of his shirt as you say, “I wanted you to talk to me first.”

Sungchan chuckles and closes his palm on your chin, tilting your head up so you have nowhere to look but into his eyes. “But you ended up calling me up either way, didn’t you?” He teases in a low gruff voice with dark eyes. His fingers press against the sides of your cheeks to pucker your lips for him and he drops four consecutives pecks on your mouth that have you sighing. “Sounded so cute on the phone, too, saying you needed to see me,” he finishes.

The mockery of his words falls hard on you, making you feel ashamed as he reminisces your exact words, directly pointing out the truth: that you were the one who pursued him and not the other way around. You whimper in discontent, your face contorting as you try to get away from his grip, but his hold on your chin tightens when you move. So you press your nails on his shoulders over his shirt, hoping the fabric gives away and your force is enough to draw blood, and look at him with hard eyes and anger on your face. “Sungchan, I don’t like—”

“Why don’t you just tell me you missed me, huh?” He asks, interrupting you and making you roll your eyes at him, a snappy reply on your tongue. “Because I missed you, princess. I really did.”

And just like that the anger fizzles out and the irritable words are gone from your brain. His confession makes you melt back against him, breath hitching and eyes going wide. You notice he’s still smirking, probably because he knows he got you right where he wanted. Teasing you nonstop for half a minute and then confessing he missed you just so he can get a reaction out of you. And you give it to him, falling on the trap just like he wanted. You always do.

“Did you really?” You ask, big eyes focusing on his lips and neck pushing forward, needing to hear his confirmation. If you were a pet, your ears would be up and alert, patiently waiting for your owner to assert his authority over you.

“I did,” he says, nodding his head and smoothing his hands over your features now, his tongue poking out to wet his lips. “And did you miss me, princess?”

You nod before he’s even finished speaking. Knowing he missed you just how much you missed him fills you with urgency and you’re sure you have eager and wanton eyes as you grip on the back of his head and pull his face closer, focusing your gaze back on his as you sheepishly confess back, “I missed you, Jinsu.”

Sungchan’s smile slowly spreads across his lips as he hears and sees your words coming out of your lips. He pats on the top of your head briefly, like you really are his pet, and coos at you. “There you go, pretty girl.”

And then he’s pulling you in for a kiss again, his mouth devouring you whole as he creeps one hand under your head to support it and slides his other one to grasp at your hip.

He shifts on the bed, leaning over you with a leg in between yours, his grip tightening as your tongues meet. In no time you’re both breathing heavily, lips red, swollen and covered in spit as your hands weave through his hair, trying to pull him impossibly closer. He moves his lips down to your neck, sucking and biting everywhere, and drives his hands up your stomach under your shirt, feeling the skin just under your boobs before his fingers enclose over one of them.

You sigh and crane your neck to the side as he keeps peppering kisses on your collar, his thumb now pressing against your nipple as it hardens over his ministrations, another moan flying free from your mouth. You try to match his pace, descending one hand to his stomach to pull up his t-shirt, your fingers grazing his abs.

He pulls away then, kneeling on the bed to remove his shirt and throw it on some corner of his room. You spend approximately two seconds kissing his lower stomach before he’s pulling your sweatshirt — his sweatshirt — over your head, too, and pouncing on you a minute later, his other knee also coming in between your legs as he latches his mouth around one boob, laying you back down.

“Fuck, Sungchan,” you groan, your hands clamping on his hair again because he’s sucking on your nipple at just the perfect angle whilst his thigh presses on your crotch with just the ideal amount of friction to make you dizzy. You’re sure you're wet already and it’s not even been over ten minutes since you woke up.

“Missed these tits so much too, princess,” he says over your damp nipple, eyes focusing on yours and raising goosebumps all over you. It’s an incredibly lewd image. His glossy and pretty lips, coated on your saliva, telling you over your areola how much he missed your boobs. Yeah, you’ll probably be thinking about it for a long time, keeping this memory to your mind to use it specifically when you masturbate in the near future. Or you’ll be putting a video representation of it as the cause of your death on your grave when you’re buried. One of these two options, for sure.

He presses kisses all over the valley of your chest before sucking around the skin of your other boob. His tongue peeks out of his mouth to kitten lick at your nipple at the same time his blunt nails graze against the skin just under your belly button on your right side, and you fidget under him. It’s a weak spot he had memorized as soon as you started sleeping together and he tortures you with it every damn time you two fuck just to see you squirm.

“Desperate already?” He says as he rubs the same place over and over, his eyes watching your stomach contract with each caress.

“You’re such a douchebag,” you tell him.

“Why?” he kisses your nipple and focuses his eyes back on yours, stupid smirk still plastered on his face. “Am I not making you feel good?”

“You fucking know why,” you respond, moving your hand to his wrist to stop his abuse of your weak spot and sliding his hand down to cup the place in between your thighs over your clothes. “And this is where your hand has to be to make me feel good.”

Sungchan laughs at that, pressing his hand harder on you and sucking on your boob one more time. His eyes and lips are glistening as he says, “So bossy. You’re lucky I like it.”

And then his mouth is claiming yours again while he sits up and his hands make quick work of yanking down your sweatpants and underwear — once again, his clothes — and throwing them away from you, making you lay back and bend your legs. Once he’s done, you move down the bed, sitting to grasp your fingers over the drawstring of his sweatpants, trying to loosen it so he can get just as naked as you are, but he moves his hips out of your reach just before you can finish it.

“I want to feel you, too,” you whine as he hovers over you, one hand pushing on your shoulder to reposition you the way he wants it, your back stretching against the covers again.

He smiles and drops a small peck on the corner of your mouth before moving his body down the bed, hands spreading open your thighs and lips pressing kisses on your belly and going down, down, down.

“In a minute, doll,” he says over your right knee, his hands now moving to the inside of your thighs, so close to where you most want him. “Have to make you feel good first, just like you asked.”

His mouth moves up now, lips sucking and bruising your thighs, tongue lavishing over your soft skin, one hand crossed on your waist to hold your body down and another pinching the supple flesh of your butt and thigh, pushing and pulling as he pleases and extending your torture so much more. You love it just as much as you hate it. It’s amazing how much he knows your body, how much he remembers all of your ticks just to use them against you. Or maybe it’s just the fact that it’s him. He makes you feel this way. Always has. Probably always will.

You are about to beg for something more, the first letter of a please making its way out of your now dry lips. And then he’s parting your folds and kissing up your crotch, becoming face to face with your glistening cunt. He buries his nose just on the outer part of it and breathes in deeply for a moment, quite literally inhaling your scent, and you think he just has to be mad. There’s no way in hell he’s a sane person.

“Fuck yeah,” he groans, his eyes meeting your wide ones when you press your elbows on the bedspread to support your upper body and watch what he’s doing. “Missed this sweet little pussy, too.” He slides his forefinger up your slit and rubs at your clit, making you shiver. “And she missed me, right, doll? Fucking dripping already. And all for me.”

“Holy shit, you’re crazy,” you moan, brushing his hair back as he keeps rubbing your clit, your hips wiggling with every complete circle he finishes, eyes never leaving his.

“And you love it,” he states and you can’t argue with that. And then he’s licking a wide strip up your pussy, his middle finger reaching down to find your entrance at the same time.

It would be ridiculous to get close to cumming just from that alone, but it’s been so long and you’ve been so pent up you already feel the characteristic churning deep in your stomach. Still, like always, Sungchan takes his time with you, massaging your entrance with his fingers, tongue finding that spot just under your clit that makes you see stars.

The seven months you’ve been doing this have been so full of sexual experiments that now he knows you prefer indirect stimulation rather than the direct on-the-nose approach. He knows you like to be eased into it, to slowly lose yourself to pleasure over getting quickly to your orgasm.

So, he keeps rubbing over your hole before putting his finger in, stroking your walls lazily as you moan softly, his tongue licking over the same spot over and over, oftentimes catching just the underside of your clit and making you swivel your hips trying to follow his lips.

“That’s it, doll. Doing so good for me,” he says as he speeds up his movements, joining another finger inside of your pussy and focusing on the image of your eyes closed, chest heaving and lips bitten. “Feels good?”

“Feels so good, Jinsu,” you reply, opening your glassy eyes to meet his, grabbing at his forearm that’s crossed over the front of your body. Sungchan is so focused on bringing you pleasure that the veins on his arms are popped up, so pretty you wish to run your tongue over each one. All of it just adds to the raw sexual tension lingering in the air.

“I love it when you call me that. You know just the way to drive me crazy, princess,” he groans, eyes never leaving yours as he moves his mouth to your clit again, now sucking harshly on it as his two fingers scissor you open.

Another thing you love about Sungchan is his dirty talk. You still don’t understand how he stays so silent and bashful most of the time and turns into another person in bed, becoming bold and forward. It’s not uncommon for him to be completely calm and collected when you’re in a friendly gather and then say the most obscene things while fucking you half an hour later, the shy persona thrown out the window. Sometimes he starts teasing you with texts, dirty looks or small touches even while you are out with friends. And the knowledge that he gets to be a completely different person just for you got you off one too many times.

You move your free hand to the back of his neck and push him more into your cunt. He gets the message and pulls your legs further apart, one hand going under your bum to support your lower half as you start bucking your hips into his face, sliding your elbows under you to arch your back while you’re searching for pleasure. He’s fucking you with his tongue so good right now you feel your sanity slipping away. The breeze coming from the window gives you goosebumps because of the contrast with the heat of your body, and your nipples stand hard as you whimper, hand pulling on the strands on Sungchan’s nape.

He groans against you, the vibration going straight to your heat and enveloping your whole body. When he pulls aways slightly, he keeps rubbing at your clit with his fingers.

“Gonna cum for me, princess?” He asks while resting his chin on your thigh and you moan, nodding desperately as you lift your head to look up into his glazed eyes. Words would fail you right now, so you do your best to convey your feelings through your actions, the hand on his forearm gripping him so hard he gives you his hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. “Do it, baby. You look so pretty when you cum.”

Over Sungchan’s eyes, you catch the way he’s rutting his hips on the bed, obviously looking for some kind of friction. The image shows that he’s just as turned on as you while eating you out and it makes you crazier. His shoulder blades and his back are tensed and you rest one foot over his shoulder just to feel the muscles moving under it, so fucking attractive. And when you focus back to his face, he’s panting, gaze never leaving yours as he dips his head again to suck hard on your clit, and that’s when you cum.

Your orgasm takes over your whole body and you shudder as Sungchan doesn’t stop, three of his fingers finding your hole again and pistoning inside you whilst you fall apart, his left cheek resting against your thigh and his eyes never leaving your pussy. You convulse around his hand and under his body, body going haywire while the intense pleasure overwhelms your senses.

You don’t know what to do with yourself. If you should keep your hands pressing against his nape and your hips lifting off in the air or if you should stop and take a breather. It all feels too fucking good it almost smothers you, but you don’t feel like stopping. Sungchan makes the decision for you then, choosing to keep his tongue out to taste you and his fingers curling on the spongy spot inside you that makes you writhe.

But suddenly it’s too much and you sit up to try to push him away with a hand on his forehead and clasp your other one over his wrist that is bended as he still guides his digits furiously inside you. Your legs try to close over his head, but he presses a hand firmly on the inside of your left thigh to keep them apart, his eyes determined as he meets yours again and pulls away slightly from your clit.

“Wait, I’m–“ You try to speak, but the word sensitive doesn’t come out as you feel your thighs trembling.

“I know, doll, I know,” he coos at you with pouty lips, still overstimulating you and enjoying every second of it, his eyes relaying fake empathy. “But you can give me one more, right?” You shake your head no with pleading eyes. Sungchan doesn’t budge. “Yes, you can. I believe in you. Gonna feel so good, too.”

You realize there’s no escaping this. You could use your safe word, but you don’t want to. Not when Sungchan is assertive and so good to you that it makes you feel obedient, keen to do everything in your power to make him feel good as well. So you bite your lip and nod your head at the same time you feel something change deep inside you. Your thighs that were trembling now spread open again and your pelvis starts chasing the feeling of his hand instead of avoiding it. Sungchan makes note of every new reaction, a sly smile appearing on his lips, and his eyes zero in on your cunt again. You relax your back enough to have your elbows hitting the sheets again, head falling back. Your hands weaken their grip on Sungchan’s wrist and head as he doubles down his efforts, fingers unwavering working to bring you to the edge. Soon enough, you feel the tightness in your belly, how it’s so steadfast you can’t help but let yourself fall into it. 

When you sob his name and curl your toes on his back, he looks at you with fierce eyes and one command on his moist lips.

“Cum,” he whispers, soft and yet harsh.

Just like that, the band snaps again and your walls spasm, gushing over Sungchan’s fingers. You arch your back off the bed, hips shooting up to feel everything he has left to give you, your mouth hanging open in a silent moan.

Like before, Sungchan keeps going, working you through it again and the lewd slippery sounds your cunt makes on his hand have you whimpering, nails scratching his wrist and eyes screwing shut to feel it all until it becomes too much again.

This time, when you weakly push at his forehead, Sungchan pulls back. His forearms support his body up as he hovers over you, lips trailing up your whole body as he kisses and sucks every part of you he can reach. “Such a good damn pussy,” he whispers just over the apex between your thighs. “And such a fucking pretty princess,” he says above your belly button. “Made you cum so good, right?” He questions after he sucks one of your nipples on his mouth again, and you paw at his head. “I could do this all night, doll,” he states before licking your other nipple. “And you’d let me, right?” He says before biting a mark on your clavicle.

When his lips come in contact with your own, you pant inside his mouth, trying to match his kisses even though you’re still gasping for air and with your heartbeat thrumming in your ears. You just loop your arms around his neck and let him kiss you, tasting yourself on his tongue and feeling the heat creeping on your cheeks because of the vulgarity of it all.

He bites your bottom lip when you don’t give him an immediate answer and withdraws with it still between his teeth, digging harshly on your plush and hypersensitive skin until you hiss in pain. Only then he releases it. “Right?” He demands.

Your mind is still hazy and you’re still out of breath post two mind blowing orgasms, but you know better than to deny Sungchan when he’s feeling dominating. “Right,” you mutter in your most docile tone.

He smiles and swipes your cheek with his knuckles, thumb stroking on your abused lip before he presses another kiss on it. “Good girl.”

The praise goes straight to your system and you buzz in excitement, like you’re reawakening because of his words. Suddenly, you feel the urge to show him just how good of a girl you can be, how you can make him feel so good he might even forget his name.

You kiss him again and slip your hands down his body to feel his pecs, then his abs, until finally your fingers wrap around the imprint of his dick on his sweatpants. Sungchan hisses, head resting on the crook of your neck and shoulder, hips thrusting down on your hand.

“I need to suck you off,” you say, pushing him with a hand on his chest to make him sit up as you keep working his erection through his pants with your other hand.

Sungchan follows your directions, pulling your upper half up with him but keeping his arms tight around you, constricting you from moving any further. “If you do that right now, I’m gonna cum,” his whispers with eyes boring into yours, a silent plea in them.

You drop a peck on his lips and look at him with the same intensity as you reply. “Great. Then cum in my mouth.”

Just like that he weakens his hold of you and you’re able to slip from his arms to kneel on the floor, pulling on his waist for him to be in the position you want. Sungchan becomes compliant to your whims, just following your moves. Even though you never assigned each other fixed roles in bed, you are usually the one being pliable and manhandled, so it is a nice change to get him to obey your orders. He drops his legs over the side of the bed where you’re located and gives you enough space to shimmy your body in between them. This time he lets you pull at the string of his sweatpants to slacken it and lifts his hips when you pull down on the waistband of it, your hands removing his briefs, too. Both pieces of fabric pool around his ankles as you hold your head up and pull his face down for another kiss. He lets you kiss him while he gets rid of the clothes surrounding his calves, becoming hyper aware of your hands roaming over his body as his dick remains untouched.

Only when you pull back you get a good look at his cock, red, angry and leaking with precum. You lick your lips and keep rubbing your hands at Sungchan’s skin, and his eyes follow the way your right hand tweaks his nipples and your lips close around the space over his left knee.

“Please don’t tease right now, doll,” he says, voice whiny and eyes urgent as your hands start going down his stomach, your nails slightly scratching his skin. 

“Oh yeah? But I thought you liked teasing,” you say with a smirk before kissing his thigh. He opens his legs some more, opening up more space, and shuffles his pelvis closer to the side of the bed, leaning back on one arm. “Or are you that desperate already?”

He sneers at you repeating his earlier words back to him, but when you finally wrap your hand around the base of his dick, the smile is gone and he opens his mouth in a silent groan, brows furrowing together. Sungchan is so thick and heavy in your hand the tips of your fingers don’t touch your thumb as you grip him. Although his size never fails to impress you, you’re used to it by now, and you’re particularly fond of how much pleasure it brings you.

You just find it unfair how even his dick is pretty. Long and thick, mushroom tip with the same pink tinge of his lips and nipples, standing up with a slight curve that always digs so good on that spongy place inside of you. You move your hand up and down his shaft to smear his slick all over him. Your mouth waters at the sight and soon enough you’re pressing a kiss to his tip and watching him purr, thrusting his hips up to follow the feel of your lips when you move back.

“Stay still,” you command and he purses his lips together and nods. His forehead is already beaded with sweat and you love the image of it. You smile softly at him before you kitten-lick his tip, watching his mouth open to deliver quiets aahs and oohs while you tongue at his slit and the underside of his head.

After a while, you finally take him inside your mouth. His tip prods on your cheek as you suck his dick forcefully and that’s enough to make Sungchan groan, head lolling back. You back away again and he whines, lifting his face to look in your eyes again.

“I know, baby boy. So sensitive, right?” You blow air over his head and he fidgets, wiggling his hips slightly. God, he looks gorgeous surrendering himself for you like this. You’ll have to do this more in the near future.

You smile and run your tongue all around his head, teasing him one last time before enveloping your lips around him again, tongue stroking the underside of his cock. Sungchan grips a hand on your hair, threading the strands of your now lopsided and messy ponytail in between his fingers. You hollow out your cheeks and bob your head up and down for him, hand stroking the rest of his dick where you’re not able to cover with your mouth. He moans at you and you put another hand on his thigh for balance, breathing in deep through your nose and preparing to take him deeper. A second later you’re relaxing your throat as his dick invades that space, too, concentrating on keeping your breath regulated while he thrusts his hips up.

“Just like that, princess,” he whimpers under you.

You hold out for the longest you can before you feel your gag reflex kicking in and then you retreat with a gasp, a string of saliva connecting your bottom lip to his dick, your eyes blurry from unshed tears as you make up for the loss of your mouth with your hand. Sungchan moves both of his hands to your cheeks, holding you tenderly as his thumbs press on your waterline to catch the tears clouding your vision.

When you blink, his face becomes clear to you again. His eyes are glassy and lust filled, his open mouth is panting and his chest, cheeks and neck are splotched. It fills you with pride that he’s gotten into such a fucked-up state just because of you.

“Feels good?” You ask in between deep breaths, trying to fill your lungs with air before preparing to take him in your mouth again whilst you keep pumping his cock.

“Yes. You’ve gotten so good at this, doll. Doing your best job yet,” he says and the pride swells in your chest, an instant ego boost cursing through your system.

Before you met Sungchan, you didn’t care enough about receiving or giving oral. You had a couple of boyfriends before, but you were still inexperienced and slightly disgusted of doing and experimenting certain things. And even though they had given you head before, and you’d tried your best to reciprocate, it was always a means to an end, never the primary goal of your sexual encounters.

But Sungchan was different. The first time he ate you out, he didn’t stop until you finished three times in sequence. It was so good it made you want to do the same for him. He made you feel seductive and bold enough to try new things. And he had the patience to teach you just the way he liked it. He didn’t become frustrated when your rhythm was shitty and you had to take long breaks to breathe before going back at it again. He didn’t push your head to take him all the way when you weren’t prepared. He waited for your affirmative response, leading and encouraging you, praising you whenever you achieved a new skill or did something different. He was good to you. And in turn, you became good for him.

“I like to pleasure you,” you say sincerely and trace your tongue on the vein that runs under his cock.

Sungchan jitters on the bed. “Yeah, and you trained so hard for that, right? Always sucking on my cock like you want to milk me dry, too.”

You nod, suckling and peppering small kisses all over his tip. “I do want to suck you dry.”

He smirks at that and moves his hand to the back of your neck again, tightening his grip. “Then why don’t you put it in your mouth again, baby?”

You smirk back at him and take your last big whiff of air before opening your lips to take him inside again. You hollow out your cheeks and bob your head up and down immediately, gripping at the base of his dick a hand and letting his moans, sighs and hums of approval guide your ministrations. You suction on the parts of his cock your mouth can reach and flatten your tongue on the underside of it, playing with his most sensitive parts while Sungchan keeps praising you.

“Shit. So good to me, doll. Keep doing that,” he grunts and you nod.

When his nails dig on your nape and his tip hits the back of your throat, you breathe through your nose and let him jerk his hips up until your forehead meets his stomach and your nose rubs on his pubic hair. You press both of your hands on his thighs and allow him to use your mouth until you can’t breathe and think straight anymore.

When you back out heaving, Sungchan moves his fingers to your face to catch the droll falling from your lips and clean the tears striking your cheeks. He waits for you to gather your surroundings again, still complimenting you and your work.

“Damn, you’re such a good girl,” he says tenderly, thumbs running over the apple of your cheeks. “Look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.”

The praise, of course, gets to you again. So, you tighten your grip on the root of his cock, starting to pump him faster, and take your other hand away from his thigh, pressing your fingers together and shaping your palm in a conch-like way to rub it on the tip of his dick, your thumb going under the head to rub at the sensitive spot located there. Sungchan moans loudly at that and you lean over to lick on his balls at the best of your ability giving the position you’re both in, not giving up even if the carpeted floor is digging on your skin.

Sungchan scrunches his eyes closed and slides one of his hands to the back of your neck and moves the other to grasp over yours on the head of his cock, pulling it away to rest them together at his thigh. “I’m close, princess.”

You catch his warning and wrap your lips on his cock again, instantly taking him in your throat as he desperately yanks his hips up in your mouth, fingers pressing on your nape and moans growing heavy and breathless. Your free hand fiddles with his balls, your nose presses on his lower stomach again and you swear you can feel him in your windpipe. And that’s when he releases, painting the inside of your mouth white with thick ropes of cum that only seize after a minute. When his body becomes loose and his hand on your neck turns weak, you pull away with a pop, watching his dick twitch and slap against his stomach.

You breathe deep and press your hands on the mattress on both of his sides to get up slowly, back and knees complaining about being in the same position for long minutes. Despite looking limp and still dazed, Sungchan pulls you to him so quickly you almost lose your balance. He peppers kisses on your belly and boobs while your hands press on his shoulders. And when you groan and move a hand to rub your left knee, he pulls your leg up to place your foot on the bed and hunches to close his lips on your skin, his tongue lavishing against the redness there. It tickles and you chuckle at him, but that doesn’t stop him from giving your right leg the same attention. He places your left foot on the ground and bends your right leg to press your toes on the mattress, repeating the same process. You smile fondly at him and caress his hair while he drops kisses on your right knee. And when he’s done, he slides your leg down so you’re now pressing your knee on the bed on the side of his thigh.

“You’re so good to me,” he whispers as he pulls you in for another kiss.

You press your body closer to his and feel the way his dick is hardening again, rubbing on your thigh, precum wetting it. But as you shuffle to straddle him completely, Sungchan stops you with a hand on your waist.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, voice hoarse from the blowjob. Sungchan doesn’t reply, scooting closer to his nightstand to open his drawer instead.

He pulls a foil packet from the already opened box of condoms and you look at him with confusion written all over your face. You guys have been doing it raw for three months now, ever since you told each other you were clean and not seeing anybody else and you started taking the pill. Sungchan loves finishing inside of you. So of course, you’re a little bit puzzled about why he’s choosing to wear a condom now, all of the sudden.

Well, maybe he’s afraid you met someone else during your time apart, but this possibility doesn’t even make sense. So you try to quash away his worries.

“I haven’t seen anyone else, Sungchan,” you tell him as he opens the foil packet and discards the trash on his night stand, right beside your cell phone.

“I know, doll,” he says back, eyes fleeting on yours for a moment before they focus on wrapping the condom around his dick. His voice sounds confident when he says it and it irks you how he’s so certain you won’t sleep with anyone else. “It’s just quicker to clean up this way.”

You tilt your head to the side and cross your arms. It doesn’t make sense. You can always shower after. That happened all the time. And it frequently led to you having round two in the bathroom, which you are not opposed to at all.

When Sungchan finishes securing the condom on his dick, he grabs your hand to drop a kiss on the back of it and pulls you closer. You budge just slightly and his eyes catch the way your stance is guarded and you’re not opening yourself up for him yet. He smiles, eyes crinkling with the motion. “Come on, princess. We have to be quick, right? Don’t you have to sleep early for that final on your third period tomorrow?”

His words are lovingly convincing and he’s technically right. But you still eye him suspiciously. Your finals are the last thing on your mind right now and you don’t believe Sungchan is worried about your sleep cycle after you just spent almost an hour pleasuring each other. It just doesn’t make sense, your mind screams at you.

You’re sure something is wrong, but when Sungchan starts kissing your clavicle and grabbing at the back of your thighs to pull you against his front, you fold, letting his lips and hands distract you from it. Then you straddle him, eager to have him inside you to pull away from the siren alarm ringing loud inside your head. He’s rock hard again and you take his cock in your hand, slapping it against your pussy lips to share your juices and the condom’s lubricant with each other. Sungchan rests his forehead against yours as you look down together at the scene.

When you move up enough for the head of his cock to catch on your hole, you both sigh, but it slips and hits your clit, so you scoot forward to get better leverage to put him inside you. Sungchan supports you with gripping hands on your back while you move your hips back up and finally his cock prods on your entrance. You’re both sighing together again when he enters you, and when Sungchan meets resistance half his way inside, he pulls you up slightly and rubs your hips, muttering about how good you’re taking him until you release more wetness, your walls fluttering and stretching to accommodate all of him.

Soon enough his thick cock is deep inside you and Sungchan bottoms out with a huff, watching as your pussy envelopes him whole. His mouth is slightly open and his two front teeth show behind his upper lip just like a bunny’s, sweat glistening on his forehead, that heart-shaped spot his hairline makes taunting you again. Your heart swells at the sight of it all, and you hate how cute he is whilst his cock is splitting you open. You place a kiss on the spot on his forehead just like you wanted before and then drop another one on the mole on the corner of his upper lip. Sungchan pulls your lips to his as you experimentally move up and down on him.

“You feel so good, princess,” he moans, breaking the kiss.

“Big,” you whimper out, scratching at his shoulders. “Feels so full, Jinsu.”

He chuckles and kisses on your temple. “I know, princess. But you like it, right?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, grabbing at his chest and gazing at his eyes again. “I like it so much.”

And you do. You like it so much that you start riding him with full energy, needing to show him how much you like him inside you, how much you like him. You try to convey with your body the words you haven’t been able to reveal, trying to show him and yourself how much this is right because of how good it feels. Because maybe if you bounce on his dick just right, suck on his pulse point the way he likes it and give him high pitched moans that compliment his performance he’ll start to like you back.

“You’re so perfect,” he says over your ear, his fringe tickling your cheek. “So fucking perfect.”

You want to scream at him that he’s right, that you are perfect, perfect for him. But instead, you purse your lips together and focus on rolling your hips against his until your thighs burn. Sungchan’s hands are splayed on your butt cheeks and he aids you, helping you by moving you up and down in a steady rhythm. He looks at your face as you scrunch up your nose and close your eyes to focus on keep riding him. You try to pick up your movements, needing a faster place to bounce back on him in a way that doesn’t tire you out as much. But Sungchan keeps slowing you down, distracting you by kissing on your pulse point, fondling your boobs, sucking on your nipples or pulling your face to kiss you. While he showers you with affection with his lips, his hand presses deeply and firmly on your back so you ride him languidly, almost stopping at times when the movements pull hoarse moans out of you both.

After a while, you start slacking because you’re actually becoming tired, trembling and losing your flow completely. Sungchan increases his efforts, trying to move you on him with only his hands, but you already surpassed the time you are usually able to ride him and your body is spent. You press your lips on his clavicle and slump against him, giving up completely.

You feel Sungchan lips on the nape of your neck and then his light chuckle. “Want me to take over?” He asks in a gentle tone.

“Yes please,” you breathe against his sternum.

He rubs the expanse of your legs and kisses your shoulder before pressing his hands on the back of your thighs and getting up with you on his lap. You think he’s going to lay you back on his sheets, but are surprised when he carries you over to his dresser, his hand knocking over and away some bottles of perfume and deodorant as he drops you on top of it. You jolt from how cold the wood feels on your heated skin and his cock slips out of you, making you both laugh a beat later.

“Why not the bed?” You ask breathless and still chuckling, wrapping your arms around his neck and legs around his middle as you shuffle to the edge of the dresser, watching Sungchan’s eyes turn into half-moons as he laughs with you.

“Just wanted to have you here, too,” he whispers, draping his arms tight around you and kissing you again.

He’s so playful and happy today, kissing you so much and complimenting you, slowing down and taking his time with you, his touches so careful and gentle you can’t help but start hoping. You hope that this, whatever this new side of him he’s showing you today, means something more. The feeling chews brutally on your heart, making you aware that you probably won’t come out of it alive.

Sungchan hooks one arm under your leg and pulls you to his body until half of your butt is hanging on the edge of the dresser, then grabs at his dick to guide it back to your hole, groaning when he’s fully inside of you again. You think he’s going to thrust his hips hard and fast, but he surprises you one more time by pulling back slowly, almost all the way out, before driving himself inside of you again just as gently. You sigh at the fullness and he does it again, his eyes fixated on where you two meet. This way you can feel every ridge and vein of his cock hitting all the right stops inside you, your toes curling and a moan boiling on your throat from how good it all feels. When he glides back one more time, you lift his head to look into his eyes, and he keeps your gaze as he leisurely fills you up one more time.

 “I love feeling every part of you like this,” he says when he’s bottomed out again, and you think you might die from heartache if he keeps treating you this way.

However, you don’t have the time – and you seriously don’t want to – dwell on it because in the next moment he’s thrusting inside you more forcefully and faster, making you pant and moan profusely again. You let your eyes roam over his form whilst he fucks you deep and hard. He’s so attractive it makes you a little crazy. Sturdy and toned body, a defined chest, six-pack glistening with sweat, biceps flexing as he keeps you in place, veins on his forearms bulging up, a muscular back and firm hips and long strong legs supporting all of it. So tall and strong. His face is ridiculously good-looking, too. Thick brows, wide eyes, a structured nose and pink full lips, his cupid’s bow so well designed you think it was handcrafted by God himself. You don’t know whether to thank him or Sungchan’s parents for putting him in the world. He’s perfect. And great at fucking. You kind of hate him.

Sungchan catches your wandering eyes over him and grins at you. “Like what you see?” He whispers, chest pressing on yours as he slows down his pace.

You roll your eyes. You also hate him for being so smug. “You’re handsome. What should I do? Look away?”

He chuckles and kisses your cheek. “No. You can look all you want, doll. Memorize it even.”

You pinch his shoulders and graze your teeth on his cheek for that and he shakes with laughter. “Such a cocky boy,” you whisper.

He holds your face in both of his hands as his hips keep meeting yours, going back to the slow measured thrusts inside you. “You’re so beautiful, too,” he mutters and kisses you again, halting all of his movements as his tongue darts inside your lips, tasting every crevice of your mouth. But you’re burning inside and you don’t care for slow and sweet anymore. You want him to ruin you, so you buck your hips forward for him to fill you up all over again.

He exhales and bites on your lower lip as you try working him inside of you the same way he was doing, but you fail. Your rhythm is shit and you’re still exhausted from riding him earlier, so you whine and grip his shoulders. “Sungchan, take me back to the bed so you can fuck me right,” you mumble, wiggling your body and trying to hop down the dresser as he keeps pressed against you, peppering kisses over your neck. “Please, Jinsu.”

He draws back from your neck, then, and quickly hooks his arms over your legs, hands splaying on your butt, to carry you back to the bed, remaining connected with you. You like how he makes you feel so small, as if you weigh nothing even though you have fat on your belly and plump thighs and arms. He never comments on it, too, and you’re so grateful for him never making you feel anything but desirable as your back meets his sheets and he hovers over you again. He's big in more ways than one.

You arch your back so his cock keeps filling you up, searching for that place inside you he always hits so good. But Sungchan has other plans, and his hands come to your wrists to stop your movements, holding your hands over your head as he presses all of his body on yours, your boobs squishing against him. His eyes bore into yours as he leisurely presses his cock inside you again and you bear your nails down on his knuckles. You desperately want to feel him with your hands. And you badly want him to stop looking at you with that intense gaze that makes you think – makes you feel – he cares about you the same way you care about him.

When he kisses you again, you can’t take it anymore, huffing at being constrained by your hands and urging him to look at you. “Can you flip me over?” You ask and Sungchan’s eyes shine bright at your sentence. He can never resist having you in doggy and you smile mischievously when you’re already laying on your stomach a second later, Sungchan manhandling you the way he wants.

“Hands and knees, baby,” he instructs and you fumble to obey his command, pushing yourself up and back on your knees and positioning your hands on the bed at the length of your shoulders to support your body.

Sungchan instantly corrects your form, one hand sneaking in between your thighs to spread them further apart and another pressing on your back for you to lean your upper body down, making you arch. You sigh from feeling his warm touch over your skin, wiggling your ass in the air for him. He chuckles at you and gives a soft slap at your right butt cheek and you laugh with him.

“You look so pretty in this position,” he says, now placing himself behind you and shimmying his knees in between your legs. “You know I love to fuck you like this, right?”

“Yes,” you whisper, anticipation building high as you feel him prepare to enter you again. “And I love when you fuck me like this.”

Sungchan hums at you, and you finally feel the warmth of his skin on yours as he slaps his dick over the curve of your ass, making you purr. “And I love this ass, too,” he mutters, resting his cock on your body as his hands grab at your ass. Then he gives it another hit, this time harder than the first one, his palm softly massaging the spot after. You stumble on the bed slightly from the shock, smothering a moan. “Love how it looks when I fuck you.”

You know by now that he’s enjoying his time teasing and playing with you, but you’re so desperate to feel him inside of you again that you don’t mind begging for it. “Jinsu, please. Can you please put it back in?”

He snickers at you and finally finishes rearranging himself, his knuckles brushing against the back of your thighs as he begins tugging on his dick again and guiding it inside you, the head of it pressing on your entrance. “Okay, doll, but just because I want it just as bad as you.”

He slides hard and fully inside you in one go, driving you forward on the mattress. You sigh contently, feeling full and complete. In this new angle, he feels even deeper. Sungchan groans as he feels your cunt spasming around him, one hand gripping your right hip and the other kneading your ass. He pulls back halfway and pushes in again, harder than before, and your eyes roll to the back of your head from how good it already feels.

“You good, princess?” He asks, stilling inside of you.

“Yeah. Feels so deep,” you whisper, leaning the side of your face on the sheets above you to try to look back to him. You only get a glimpse of his left ear and cheek and how his biceps look holding you down, the rest of your view being obstructed by your own body.

“Hmm, I know,” he muses, languidly moving in and out of you, now both of his hands landing on your ass cheeks to spread them apart. You’re pretty sure he’s indulging himself in feeling the plush of your skin spilling between his fingers and watching how your pussy swallows him whole from that angle. He’s addicted to the image and feel of you like this. “I always hit it so deep like this.”

“Uh-huh. And you can hit it harder and faster, too, right?” You tease, pushing yourself back on his cock to make him fuck you swiftly.

He laughs and moves one hand to your hip again, leaning further into you and pressing his hips against yours. “Sorry. Got distracted by your ass again”, he confesses and it’s your time to snicker at him. But soon he begins to drive his cock harder and faster inside you, just like you asked, and your laugh is replaced by moans. “Better now?”

“Fuck yes,” you groan, feeling his dick hit all the right places inside of you. “Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” he assures you, his hips kissing yours again and again, the sound of your skins smacking together echoing through the room.

He’s been driving you crazy the whole night with his slow and measured thrusts, his gentle and nice words and his overflowing affection, so it’s no wonder you’re already moaning loudly and fisting the sheets of his bed in very little time. Sungchan is no better than you, though. You can hear him grunting every time his hips kiss yours and feel his legs tensing beneath you. He probably planned to excessively and deliberately tease you until you were begging to cum, but he didn’t realize he’d also be overstimulating himself before getting to the finish line. It’s as annoying as it is adorable.

“Holy shit. You really look so good like this, princess,” he grunts, his eyes admiring how your ass jiggles against him with every forceful drive of his cock inside of you. “Wanna burn this image on my mind. I won’t ever forget it.”

Your chest expands at his admission, getting dizzy from the knowledge that he’s so transfixed by you that he says something like that in the heat of the moment. The feeling curls inside your chest and you smile. Maybe he does reciprocate your feelings for him. Who knows?

You open your mouth to say something teasing about his statement, but the words are long forgotten when he reaches his hand up your shoulder to wrap around it and tugs you back against him hard, moving you back to him as he continues driving himself forwards. Your loud moans of his name turn into broken whimpers of random words you don’t even remember thinking.

“So wet and warm for me, gripping me so tight,” he says above you and you wonder how he’s still capable of forming sentences when that ability is now so hard for you. “Fucking perfect.”

“Your dick is perfect,” you try to make out even though your brain is a mess. “You are perfect.”

He moans and grips you tighter, showing he understood you. “Thank you, doll. Now c'mere,” he says, moving his palm on your shoulder the other way around, hooking it under you. “Wanna feel your skin on mine when you cum.”

Again, he maneuvers you the way he wishes to. With his cock still inside you, he removes his legs from between yours to position them outside of you now, putting pressure so you have no choice but to drive your legs together. The movement makes your pussy snugger around his cock and he moans, halting for a beat to bask in the feeling of it. Then he pushes your upper half up, hauling you up with his grip on your shoulder, making you raise yourself again until your back meets his chest. You feel prickles on your arm at the close contact and sweat makes you both sticky, your skin gluing you to him as Sungchan now moves a hand to grab at one of your tits and the other one to cross over your whole waist, clinging your body to his.

You’re molded together. You won’t complain about it.

He rests his chin on your shoulder and grazes his thumbnail on your nipple, making you hiss. Then he starts moving again, his hips driving backwards and forwards with enough force to drive you away from him. Except his arms are still steady and firm around you, keeping you connected even through his hard thrusts inside of you, and you reach down to grip his thighs, your nails scratching him.

“That’s it, princess, taking me so well,” he rasps on your ear and you bite on your bottom lip to keep yourself from being too loud.

“Shit, Jinsu, I think I’m-" You try to stutter out, your voice becoming high and airy as the head of his cock rubs deliciously on your g-spot.

“Fuck yeah, I can feel you clenching around me,” he says and after his words you feel your cunt contracting even more, trying to keep him inside of you forever. “You’re going to cum for me one last time?”

“Yesyesyes.” You turn your head slightly back so you can rest your forehead on his temple. He turns his face to yours, too, and you watch as droplets of sweat fall from his hair to his face. You move your hand to his face to keep him there and Sungchan does the same with the hand that was gripping your waist, moving it to the side of your face to stroke over your cheekbone with his fingers. “I’m so close, Jinsu,” you murmur, lips ghosting over his.

“Me too, princess,” he replies and drops a kiss on the corner of your lips. “Let’s do it together, okay?”

You nod just as he slides his hand from your boob to your clit, rubbing it in quick little circles. The added stimulation on your clitoris makes you light-headed and you try to grip at the last shreds of your sanity to stay in the moment with him. Sungchan’s eyes shine against yours and you overwhelm your senses trying to concentrate on feeling everything at once. His hands and hold all over you, his fingers coaxing your orgasm out of you, his legs hitting on the back of your thighs, his hair brushing against your forehead, the smell of him and of sex — the smell of both of you together — invading your nostrils, his strength driving his hips against yours, his perfect dick hitting inside of you so good, his voice whispering dirty sweet nothings to you. And his lips that attach to yours the moment you’re on the edge of breaking apart, finally making you cum.

Sungchan kisses you while your pussy convulses on his cock and he thrusts inside you one, two, three more times until he’s spilling inside the condom. You keep clenching around him, trying to milk him until the last drop, and he keeps stroking your clit and kissing your lips. Only when your body starts twitching from the overstimulation and you grab at his forearm, he removes his hand from your cunt and detaches his lips from yours to kiss your cheek next. You sigh lazily, trembling on his arms as he pecks the same spot over and over, still muttering compliments and thank you’s. You can’t make out what he’s saying exactly because your blood is still ringing in your ears, your heart is beating rapidly, your thighs are sore and your body is starting to feel the first signs of exhaustion. So, you caress his forearm and hope it’s enough to return the sentiment.

His grip on you loosens just a little and you try to shift ahead. Sungchan, of course, notices your movement, and in no time he’s delicately laying both of you back on the bed, your heated chest rubbing against the cool sheets becoming a luxury as he keeps his rib cage connected to your back, being careful not to drop his full weight on you. He closes his lips over your shoulder blades and you indulge yourself in the attention and tenderness he’s still giving you while you catch your breath.

After some time of exchanging lazy caresses and quick kisses, he finally disconnects his body from yours, pulling out of you and getting up to tie off the end of the condom. You instantly miss his warmth and wrap a hand around his wrist, turning on your side to look at him. He smiles at you and bends over to kiss your forehead quickly.

“I have to drop this in the trash and clean myself a little. I’ll be back in a minute,” he states and gives you another kiss, this time on the lips. Then he tugs his briefs back on, turns and walks out of the bedroom in the direction of the bathroom.

You exhale deeply as you turn your head to the ceiling, watching the shadows casted on it by the small droplets of rain still falling randomly outside. Your mind starts to work right away, trying to recap everything you just lived with Sungchan to hunt for signs of his feelings for you. But you’re so tired you banish the thoughts to the back of your head, covering yourself with the bedding from your toes to your head in a feeble attempt to hide from your own mind.

Sungchan is back a minute later, laying on the bed and draping himself all over and around you. You pinch his ribs when he drops his full weight on your stomach and he laughs, pulling at the sheets to see your face and body again. Once your head is out, he threatens to tickle you in retaliation for the tweak in his chest and you lift your arms in surrender, laughing with him.

When you’re both done laughing, Sungchan takes your hands in his and pins them to the bed beside your head, then kisses you. You smile between the soft press of his lips, giddy in oxytocin and pleasure.

“You should probably use the bathroom, too,” he states when he pulls back and you know he’s right. You need to pee and freshen up. And find the courage to leave his house and go to yours. You still have an exam in the morning. “I’ll grab your clothes from the dryer while you’re at it.”

You sigh dramatically and pull yourself from the bed and Sungchan’s arms. He chuckles and hands you a sheet to cover your body before you make your way to the bathroom, murmuring about how “Shotaro could get home anytime”.

You nod and when you turn to walk away, he gives a pat at your bottom, making you yelp. You look over your shoulder to shoot daggers at him with your eyes, but the smile on your face lets him know it’s all in good fun.

Inside the restroom, you take your time peeing and stretching your limbs back to their places. You hope the soreness from being tense or in the same positions for too long will go away after a good night's sleep. Then you step into the shower to quickly rinse yourself of any bodily fluids and sweat, cleaning your hands methodically and letting some water fall into your messy hair. You wrap your body with the same towel you used earlier and move to stand in front of the mirror again to finger-comb your hair back in a ponytail. But the lilac polka dotted bow scrunchie you had on isn’t with you anymore, probably getting lost around Sungchan’s room in the midst of everything.

You come back from the bathroom and find Sungchan seated on his bed, waiting for you already dressed and with your dried clothes placed by his side, a pensive look in his face while he stares at the wall opposed to him.

“I think I lost my scrunchie,” you say to him, pouting both because your favorite hair accessory and because Sungchan is already clothed. You were hoping you’d ogle his body some more before going.

Sungchan’s head snaps up when you arrive, like you’ve caught him off guard while his mind was elsewhere, but he promptly shakes his reaction off with a smile. “We’ll search for it later.” He puts your clothes on his lap and invites you closer. “Here, I’ll help you dress.”

You saunter over to him and stand in between his legs, thinking he’s just going to hand you each piece of your clothing as you dress up. He surprises you when he picks up your panties, holding it with his two hands inside its waistband, and bends down, lowering the item so you can pass your legs through the openings.

You quirk an eyebrow up at him. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he replies with a smirk, staying very still as you analyze him, gaze unwavering on yours. You shrug and do as he pleases, standing on one foot and then on the other as you pass your legs through the loops successfully one at a time. He tugs the underwear up until it’s placed correctly around your hips, then pinches gingerly on the place where your right thigh becomes your right butt cheek, as he proudly says, “Atta girl.”

You roll your eyes at him. “I think you’re kinda obsessed with my ass.”

He smiles and preens his neck up to kiss on your clavicle. You fight the urge to search the contact of his lips again when he retreats. “You’re right, I kinda am.” Then he picks up your bra next and signals his forefinger up and in a circular motion for you to turn around.

You turn on your heels and Sungchan’s fingertips start caressing both of your arms, moving softly along your biceps until your forearms and then to your wrists, bra still on his right hand between his pinky and ring fingers. Once he gets to your hands, he hooks the straps of the undergarment over your arms and pulls it up until each one is located on your shoulders. His hands go to your back to close the clasp, and you feel the teeth in the clip nipping slightly at your skin as he fastens it. He drops a kiss on your scapula and goosebumps raise all over your body. You wonder if he’s doing this on purpose, if his plan is to tease you and ruin you again and, at least, if this is as hot to him as it is to you. If he keeps this up, you might only get out of his place in the morning.

He grabs at your hips and turns back to him again, then holds your jeans, scrunching up the fabric of the legs so you can see the openings from the waistband until the bottom hems. That’s when you break your silence. “Is this some type of kink of yours?”

He chortles at you and holds the pants down for you to put on. You comply, passing your legs through the openings just like you did with the panties, and letting him yank it up. You pay attention to his eyes as he does it. His gaze sparkles as he watches your skin disappearing between his fingers and behind the fabric. You think it’s kind of cute and it reminds you of when you were little and did the same with your toys, changing their outfits nearly every minute. He’s playing with you as if you really are his doll, dressing you up for him. But behind the glow on his eyes, you also catch a hint of longing. Something indescribable, that you can’t quite put your finger on.

Sungchan drums his fingers around the waistband of your jeans until they go around all the way to find the button on its front. “Not a kink,” he says sincerely, pressing the button through its loop and then moving his digits down the fly to feel around for the zipper. “Just doing something nice for you.”

“Why?” You question, suspicious eyes falling over his face as he focuses on tugging the zipper up and securing your fastened pants.

He shrugs. “Because I want to.” Then, he hooks his fingers on the belt loops in front of your pants and pulls on them, therefore also pulling you to him. “Because you deserve it,” he says simply with a smile.

You blush at his words, smiling back at him and leaning down to press a kiss on his lips. You want to get lost in his mouth again. You want to get rid of your clothes once more and lay down with him in this bed for a week, finals and chores and college responsibilities be damned. But Sungchan, ever the responsible one, withdraws and puts some distance between your bodies before you get too eager.

“There’s still some clothes left to put on,” he says, snickering when you sigh in response.

You cave in to his will, collaborating with him to put your shirt over your head and then your hoodie. When you’re completely dressed and you straighten the clothes on your body, Sungchan finishes his little game of dress up by tying the strings of your sweater together with a bow. “Pretty girl,” he says.

“Pretty boy,” you say back, moving to sit on his lap, your legs perpendicular to his, one arm going around his shoulders and the other one resting over his, your fingers poking on the collar of his shirt, nails scratching the skin underneath. “I just think it’s a little unfair that I didn’t get to help you dress.”

He chuckles and moves his hand to close around yours, turning it to press his lips on your knuckles. “Maybe another time.”

You scrunch your nose up, obviously not satisfied with his reply. “Another time, then. I should probably get going anyway.”

Sungchan nods, but instead of letting you go, he pulls you close once more, wrapping his arms around your middle, his hands rubbing your back and his face hiding between your neck and shoulder. You hug him back just as tight, running your fingers through his hair while he breathes in your scent and presses kisses into every part his lips can reach. You stay like this for what feels like hours. Every time you think he’s done, he fixes his hold to hug you even tighter, almost binding you two together. When he finally slackens his grip a little, it’s only to move his hand to the back of your head and coax your lips in his. His tongue enters your mouth hungry and yearning, and you kiss him back with all the energy you can muster up. Just like all the kisses before, this one leaves you breathless and dazzled. Your mind is already fogged up and numb by the time he finally pulls back and, with moist lips and a piercing gaze, presses his mouth to yours one final time.

“You should probably get going,” he repeats back to you. You have to blink your eyes open two times to understand what he’s saying and command your wobbly legs to remember how to stand up again. “I’ll give you a ride.”

You nod at him and when you get up from his lap, Sungchan slides his hands down your shoulders to your upper arms, then to your forearms and wrists. He squeezes your hands two times before letting you go. You move to his nightstand to retrieve your cell phone, now charged and full of notifications you still leave unopened, and put it in your pocket. Then you bend down to plug the charger out of the switch.

“Uh, I actually wanted to talk to you about something before you go,” Sungchan says the moment you take the charger out and you hear the uncertainty in his words, the fear.

Your heart skips a beat, your mind already whirring with a thousand possibilities of whatever he has to say. But you try to keep your expression emotionless and your eagerness at bay while you stand upright again. “Sure. What is it?” You roll up the charger’s wire and nod to him, encouraging him to keep going before turning on your heels to put your things away in your bag.

You’re already with your back turned to him, crouching down to your backpack and opening the zipper of its front pocket when he speaks again. “You remember the girl I partnered up with for my organic chemistry project?”

You pause when you hear him. The zipper’s slide is still as ever beneath your fingertips, the sound of the teeth getting dragged away completely stopping as you remain unmoving. You can sense something is wrong. You feel it in your bones. Whatever his next words are going to be, you’ll not like it one bit.

If Sungchan notices your momentary stillness, he doesn’t make any comment about it. You feel suspended in the air, on the edge of an information that’ll make you jump over the cliff. You wish you could go back to two minutes ago, when you didn’t know he had something to tell you. But your curiosity and the red flags you so carefully stepped around before now come to the forefront of your mind. And you take the bait, dragging the teeth of the zipper back until its stop to mask up for any agitation in your voice when you reply. “The sophomore majoring in biology? Yeah, what about her?”

“We’ve been hanging out for a while now,” he replies quickly this time while you’re putting your charger inside the bag and closing the pocket back. “It’s been working out pretty well.”

You stand up, then, and Sungchan pauses. He’s probably inspecting your reaction before letting the full truth out. You know exactly what he’s going to say. He’s about to reject you, to choose her over you. You wish you couldn’t be able to hear right now. But you need to listen to him so you can move on from whatever this fucked-up thing between you two is. And you decide you need to see it, too, turning around to watch him and crossing your arms over your chest, waiting for the impact.

“I actually really like her,” he says, eyes fixed on the spot behind you on the wall, not quite looking at you. His tone is heavy on the really. He probably just likes you. But her? He really likes her.

And there it is. The whole truth. All those things you ignored before had been there for a reason. The two weeks with no contact. The text on his laptop that he scurried to hide from you. His insistence on wearing a condom. The many kisses, the slow fucking, the compliments. His intense gaze. Even his fucking words.

“I love it when you call me that.”

“I love feeling every part of you like this.”

“Wanna burn this image on my mind. I won’t ever forget it.”

“You’re fucking perfect.”

“Wanna feel your skin on mine when you cum.”

“You’re going to cum for me one last time?”

All of those words weren’t because he’s in love with you. He didn’t really miss you, either. Maybe your body, sure. But not you, not really. Not at all.

He was not being gentle and kind and pampering you for you. He wasn’t gazing deeply into your eyes and showering you with kisses and beautiful words because he likes you. He was doing it to savor his last time fucking you before he turned another woman into his girlfriend. It was all because he’s discarding you.

He was saying goodbye. And you fell for it like a fool.

You have every right to be mad at Sungchan for taking advantage of your vulnerable self just to fuck you one last time. He likely planned to just keep ghosting you until you’d saw him around campus with his new bae and get the message, but then you called him and offered the perfect opportunity of a farewell shag on a silver platter. And he wasn’t going to reject it. He played his cards right, of course.

But you’re not mad at him. At least he gave you three earth-shattering orgasms before breaking your heart.

You’re really mad with yourself. Because you fucking knew it. The signs were everywhere. His silence about the status of your relationship wasn’t because he liked you too much to confess to you or because he was afraid you’d not like him back. It was a strategy. It was about keeping you on his side for as long as he wanted to have you. Good and easy pussy. He didn’t even have to make an effort to lie to you. You did it yourself, bending the truths so you could keep being with him, in whichever way he’d let you.

Plus, there’s no way a man like Sungchan would settle for someone like you. You just choose to push away all the hints he gave you just to feed on crumbs of his affection. A trauma response or some shit like that, no doubt. You’d have to ask your psychology student friend.

God, you really are pathetic.

“You’re not going to say anything?” Sungchan asks, and you notice you’ve been lost throwing a pity party on your own thoughts for a while.

To your merit, you shake it off like a champ, smiling at him and falling into your chill girl persona. “That’s great, Jinsu,” you say, smiling even though you’re dying inside. “I guess that means we should stop meeting up, right?”

Sungchan’s eyes widen. He obviously wasn’t expecting that reaction. You’ve probably shown your feelings for him a little too much and that made him real sure you’d have an outburst. But you’re a chill girl right now.

Chill girls don’t care about their flings liking someone else. Chill girls don’t want to know everything about it, too. They aren’t curious in the slightest about how long he’s been seeing her, how many times he’s fucked her, if he calls her princess and doll too and if she’s been on the same sheets they’ve just cummed all over in.

And chill girls particularly don’t mind when their friend with benefits for half a year is choosing someone he’s only known for two months over them.

He recovers quickly, looking sheepish while he nods, his cheeks blushing. “Yeah, would that be a problem? I’m actually planning to ask her to be my girlfriend this weekend.”

Shit, you didn’t need to know that. It hurts a little too much. Your smile falters for a beat, his words giving you whiplash. You feel dizzy and cold like you were dropped on icy water. If you kept walking outside in the rain, it wouldn’t feel as bitter as this.

Then you turn away from him, busying yourself with picking your backpack up to put it over your body. “No problem at all.”

But Sungchan plays with your feelings until the end, putting his hands on your shoulders to spin you back to face him. “Are you really okay with this?” He questions with his best puppy eyes.

He’s still cute while he does it. What a fucker. Now you hate him for real.

If he thinks you’re going to spill your heart out to him and ask him to choose you, pick you, love you in a rendition of Meredith Grey’s speech, he’s very wrong. You still have some pride left.

“Yes. I’m happy for you, Jinsu,” you reply through gritted teeth, the same frozen smile from earlier on your face. You can only be so chill about this and he’s pushing it.

“Oh!” He exclaims after your words, like a lightbulb went out in his head. He at least has the decency to stutter and seem embarrassed as he asks, “Uh… Would you mind going back to call me by my name, too?”

Of course. You just lost your privilege to his nickname. Jinsu is reserved for his close friends and his soon-to-be girlfriend. And, obviously, he can’t risk his new girl hearing another woman calling him such an intimate pet name. She’d have questions.

And you’re nothing for him anymore. You have to stick with his name now.

“Of course, Sungchan.”

“Thanks, princess,” he says, and you quirk an eyebrow up at him. If you can’t call him Jinsu, his nicknames for you are forbidden, too. He covers his mouth with a hand when he notices what he said. “Sorry. Y/N.”

After that, you both walk to the foyer to put on your sneakers so Sungchan can take you home. You don’t want to be in his presence anymore and you try to argue that you would be okay getting an Uber, but he blabbers on about how he insists about it and that’s the least he could do.

You agree just to get it over with. Sungchan picks his car key from the holder in the hall and opens the door for you. You get a last look at his place before stepping out. You feel weird once you’re out and the door closes behind you, realizing that you’ll never be inside his house again. The feeling churns in your heart and your eyes prickle, but you breathe deep and will it to go away.

You both are silent the whole two flights of stairs down his garage. And you stay like that while you get in his car and he turns the engine on, still not speaking a thing as he drives out of the small building complex and takes the path to your home. The only noise is the music coming out the radio and his old car sputtering up.

Luckily enough, your apartment is just a ten-minute drive from his. When he stops the car at your building’s curb, you gather your things from the carpet and say your goodbye. But Sungchan puts his hand over your, though, stopping you from opening the door.

“Can I have one last hug?” He has the audacity to ask.

That’s when you break your chill act.

You look over at him with raw and rough hatred. And he sees it, because he instantly retreats his fingers from you and flinches on his seat. “No, Sungchan,” you almost growl at him, venom dripping from your mouth. “I think your girlfriend wouldn’t like that.”

She probably will not like finding your favorite scrunchie inside the first drawer of his nightstand where you left it before getting out of his room, too. But that’s not your problem to deal with.

After your final words, you open the door and get out of his car, practically running inside your complex. You stay somber while you walk inside and wait for the elevator. You stay solemn while you ride the elevator, waiting for it to get to your floor. You even remain serious while you type your code in and finally get inside your house.

But when you take your shoes off and drop your bag on the floor, your entryway light flickers over your head for a few seconds until the bulb goes out, leaving you in complete darkness. You stare into the dark and are also met with the silent empty space of your apartment.

You move your hand to the bow on your hoodie, the last snippet of your encounter with Sungchan you still have on. You pull on the strings and it disappears. Then you break down, curling over yourself until you’re on your knees, releasing loud sobs with chunks of tears coming out of your eyes.

What comes after is… being utterly alone. 

author’s note: phew! thank you for reading this little monster. please consider letting me know what you think about it in the comments or my ask box. feel free to scream at me all you want, i welcome it! <3

[favefandomimagines]

blue eyes crying in the rain (a.b)

Summary: your marriage with Anthony was a dream; until it all went slightly sour.

AN: I love a good angsty Anthony fic

When you first met Anthony Bridgerton, it was like time stopped. You had heard the rumors that he was not searching for a marriage built of love but a marriage built on duty. But everything changed when Daphne introduced her friend and her brother. It was as if you were the only people in the room.

Everyone else simply did not exist. He was charming, intelligent, he made you feel as if you were the most beautiful woman in the world.

Anthony was enamored with you. You were the perfect woman physically but you were perfect just simply a person. You made him laugh, made him feel seen and loved. It was terrifying to him that one day the same fate that took his father would take you too.

But he could not care any less. The two of you wed at the end of June and everything was purse bliss. Until you returned from your honeymoon. It had not taken much for you to become with child and you were pregnant. Once you became pregnant, Anthony changed. He spent more and more time in his study or with his brothers.

You rarely saw him outside of going to bed and you felt isolated. You were going through this pregnancy alone. Had he regretted the marriage? Were you not desirable anymore now that you were with child? Too many intrusive thoughts clouded your brain and you had no one to talk to. You would rather not alert the rest of the family to the troubles that you and Anthony were facing. So you were handling that alone as well.

It was late one night, way past midnight by the time Anthony got home. Benedict was dragging him across the foyer of your home as you stood on the stairs in your robe.

“Y/N, what are you doing up? You shouldn’t be awake at this hour in your condition.” Benedict commented. “Well, I was waiting for my husband but that seemed futile two hours ago.” You replied. “My apologies, Y/N. I did not mean to keep him out so late.” Benedict replied.

“It was my idea, my darling Y/N. We had some business to attend to.” Anthony slurred. “You have been attending to business quite a bit.” You spoke. Both Bridgerton brothers could see that you were not pleased.

Benedict excused himself, giving you a smile before exiting the home. “Anthony, this has gotten out of hand.” You spoke. “What has?” He questioned. “You are gone all hours of the night, while I’m left alone.” You answered.

“It feels as though I'm facing this pregnancy alone. You're never here!” You added. “I have responsibilities, Y/N. You know that.” Anthony replied. “Responsibilities? Is that what you call it? Neglecting your wife and child?” You rebutted. “I provide for you, don’t I? Is that not enough?” Anthony argued back.

“No, Anthony, it is not! I need you here, with me, not off attending to your clubs and politics!” You yelled. This was the first time you had raised your voice with Anthony. It was a side to you he had never seen before.

"Those clubs and politics secure our future, Y/N. You think I do this for fun?" Anthony said back. “When you are gone every night, yes I think you do it for fun. I think you've forgotten what's truly important. I'm carrying your child!" You said. "And I'm doing everything I can to ensure our child's future!" Anthony yelled back.

"What about our present? What about me? Do I not deserve your time?" You asked him. "I don't have time to argue about this." Anthony said, rather than answering.

He walked around you back up the stairs, walking away from you and the argument. "That's your answer to everything, isn't it? Avoidance!" You called after him. "I can't be with you every moment. You knew this when we married." Your husband said.

“I am aware of that Anthony, but I didn't expect to feel so alone in my own marriage." You replied, following after him.. “You’re being unfair.” Anthony said, stopping to turn to you. "I'm being honest! I need you, Anthony. Our child needs you." You told him, standing face to face with him. “I’m doing the best I can!” Anthony yelled.

There was a rage in his eyes that scared you. This was not the man you had married, this was a completely different person. Where did the love he had for you go? Where had the kind, gentle man go?

“Your best isn’t good enough. Not anymore. Every time I look at you, I see a stranger. Where did the man I married go?” You responded, sadness lacing your voice.

You both fell silent, standing in the hallway. You moved to walk around him back to your bed chambers. “I need some time alone, please.” You said. “Y/N, wait-” Anthony started. “No, Anthony. Just let me be.” You interrupted, this time not returning his gaze.

Anthony watched you walk away and close the door behind you. He cursed himself as he walked to his study. He hadn’t realized just how badly he was hurting you. His pride and ego prevented him from seeing it. He was raised better than how he was behaving and he was hurting his wife.

He wanted to fix it, he needed to fix it. But you had made abundantly clear that you needed space. But how much space?

XX

The next morning, you and Anthony didn’t speak a word to each other at breakfast. Anthony was urging to hear your voice but you were steadfast in remaining silent. He watched as you finished your breakfast and moved to stand from your seat.

A look of discomfort crossed your features as you stood. You grabbed your stomach as you continued to stand fully.

“Are you alright?” Anthony asked. Your lady’s maid came to your side to help you stand fully. “Thank you, Gloria.” You said to her kindly. You took your leave to the garden, Anthony watching you as you left.

“Gloria, keep a watchful eye on her.” He instructed the maid. “Yes, my lord.” Gloria responded, walking after you.

Later that afternoon, as you were in the sitting room, you felt that sharp pain in your stomach again. You moved quickly and placed your hand on your stomach again. But as the pain increased, you winced and soon your winces became groans of pain.

“My lady, what is the matter?” Gloria asked you. “I do not know. I-I have some pain in my stomach.” You answered. Gloria instructed the other maid to go fetch the Viscount as she stayed by your side.

“I don’t want to worry him.” You spoke. “But what if something is wrong?” Gloria questioned. You were about to reply when the pain increased and felt like a dagger to your stomach.

You let out an even louder groan of pain as Anthony rushed into the room. “Y/N, darling, what’s wrong?” He asked, kneeling in front of you. “The pain started this morning and now it won’t stop.” You explained. “I-Is the baby coming?” He questioned. “No, this is different. Anthony, what if something’s wrong?” You replied.

Anthony looked at you for a moment, seeing your fear and your pain. “Call the doctor. Tell him it’s an emergency.” Anthony instructed his butler. “I-I don’t know what this could mean. What if I lose the baby?” You panicked.

“Y/N, look at me,” Anthony started. He grabbed her hands and you looked at him with watery eyes. “Our baby is going to be okay. You are going to be okay. I know I wasn’t here before but I am here now and I love you.” Your husband told you. “I love you too.” You replied.

When the doctor arrived, you were escorted to your chambers so you could be more comfortable while he was examining you. The doctor was quiet as he examined you, not saying much. That bothered Anthony. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Nothing to comfort you or reassure you that your baby was okay.

“The baby is alright, Lady Bridgerton. You experienced a rather normal part of pregnancy; contractions that don’t lead to labor. They are quite alarming, especially given that this is your first child, but the baby is okay.” He explained. “So she’s okay?” Anthony asked. “Yes. Both mother and child are healthy.” The doctor answered.

You let out a subtle sigh of relief as you rested your head against the bed frame. At the door, the butler escorted the doctor out and Anthony turned to look at you.The adrenaline from the fear he felt had finally worn off and now he was just terrified.

Anthony moved to sit next to you on the edge of the bed and took your hand in his. “I have been an awful husband.” He spoke. “Anthony,” You sighed.

“I have heard the risks of childbirth. Women die while birthing a child and I do not think I’ve ever been more terrified than I was at this moment. I thought I would lose you and our child. I caught a glimpse into what my mother felt when she lost my father and I never want to feel that. I’ve been wasting precious time with you just because I was scared.” Anthony continued.

You finally understood why he had distanced himself since you fell pregnant. He was afraid he was going to lose you during childbirth. You wished he would have come to you with his fears rather than pushing you away when you needed him most.

“Anthony, I do not plan on going anywhere. I wish you would have just told me what you were feeling. It’s alright to be vulnerable, especially with me. It doesn’t make you less of a man.” You finally said.

“I know that now. And I am so sorry for neglecting you the way I did. You needed me and I wasn’t there.” Anthony said. “I forgive you.” You told him.

Anthony looked at you with disbelief, fully convinced you wouldn’t forgive him for his behavior.

“I love you, Anthony. We have to forgive the ones we love for their mistakes. Besides, if the stress of being mad at you is what caused my condition, I’d rather not go through it again.” You teased.

Anthony gave you a tearful laugh before kissing you deeply.

Two months later, you welcome a healthy baby boy into the world. And he has his father wrapped around his finger.

[hivemuthur]

A Deer and a Man - Ch.6.

viktorxfemale!reader explicit - pure filth :v

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5.

word count: 7,6K

tag: #d&m

summary: You are the eldest daughter of a noble family, soon to be married to one of the most eligible bachelors in the region—Viktor, the adopted son of House Talis. The arrangement is simple: a marriage that secures your family’s wealth in exchange for access to Hextech. What could possibly go wrong?

author’s note: What's up Viktor Nation? First: @mithrava and @rennethen thank you for all your help with proof reading and helping me putting this into sort of historically accurate setting. Playlist on Spotify. I can't believe it's over!

also the artist behind art is here!

Cross-posted on AO3

—

For the first time in your life, you take your mother’s advice. And it is, to say the least, difficult. Maintaining a calm, composed façade while a tempest rages inside you is not unfamiliar, but the effort becomes infinitely harder when it is laced with longing—not for something, but for someone.

And Viktor is a worthy opponent. Neither of you plays this game out of spite; it is fear that guides you, the quiet worry that one wrong move will send the other bolting. From your perspective, your heart is already bare—it is his turn to pick up whatever you left on the library floor.

The days pass in a rhythm that neither of you dares disturb. Conversations are polite, words exchanged with careful precision—utterly unhostile, yet utterly empty. The thrilling tension that once crackled between you, charged with unspoken desire and sharp-witted challenges, has dulled into something else entirely. A tension of stress. Of careful treading.

Once in a while, he tries—you have to admit that. There are moments when he edges closer to something deeper, where his words hover on the cusp of meaning, where his eyes search yours as if waiting for permission to proceed. But each time, you falter. You do not know what to give him, what is safe to surrender. Your mother left you no further instructions.

Every day ends with you torn between giving up, knocking on his door, or screaming into the pillow of your own bed. You choose the latter and promise yourself that tomorrow, you will be braver. Until you see him—slouched over his coffee, exhausted by something beyond your reach.

Until one day, the wind howls against the windowpanes, rattling them like an impatient hand demanding entry. Inside, the house feels smaller than ever, every room suffocating with its stillness, its emptiness. Your notebooks lie abandoned, their pages filled with thoughts that have nowhere else to go. The piano holds no appeal. Eliza, dear Eliza, would offer kind words and warm company, but even that feels unbearable—words would make the frustration real, give it form, and you cannot afford that.

So, you take your mother’s advice more literally than she likely intended. You step through the door without a word, a book tucked under your arm, and let the wind take you.

In your mind, Viktor follows. He finds you before you reach the gate, seizes your wrist with a desperate sort of heat in his touch. He says your name like it is both an apology and a demand, like he has realised too late that he cannot let you go.

But there is no hand at your wrist. No voice calling you back. The wind is your only companion, and it cares nothing for your foolish fantasies.

You walk. Past the house, past the garden, beyond the familiar paths you have taken before. The land stretches wide, unbound by human hands, unfolding in an endless sprawl of untamed beauty. The hills roll like waves frozen in time, their slopes marked by patches of gnarled trees, black against the grey sky. Fields stretch beyond sight, the grass bending and thrashing beneath the force of the wind, caught between dance and struggle.

A river carves its way through the valley, its waters wild, swollen from recent rains. On the banks, delicate flowers cling to the earth beside jagged stones, their petals trembling with each gust. Above, the sky churns, clouds thick and restless, shifting between light and shadow, as if the heavens themselves cannot decide whether to bless the land or break it.

Here, beauty does not exist without violence. Here, softness and savagery do not contradict but coexist. And yet, for all its ferocity, the landscape does not rage against itself. It simply is.

You sit upon a smooth, flat rock, letting the world settle around you, pressing your palms to the cool surface as if to ground yourself in its vastness. The book opens in your lap, but for a long while, you do not read. You only breathe. And for the first time in days, your mind is quiet.

Back at the house, more than one mind is restless.

At first, your absence is barely noted. The house is vast, and you often take solace in its quieter corners, slipping away with a book or a blank sheet of music. But as the hours stretch and Eliza’s calls go unanswered, a ripple of concern spreads through the household.

It is Eliza who worries first, pressing her lips together as she checks the library, the sitting room, even the piano bench, expecting to find you lost in thought. When she does not, her steps quicken. The kitchen staff shake their heads at her inquiry. The drawing room is empty. Your bedchamber, undisturbed.

Then, the matter reaches Viktor.

He notices your absence in a far quieter way. A missed meal, an empty chair where you ought to have been. He is good at reading patterns, after all—seeing the way things are supposed to fit together. You have been in his periphery for days, a ghost of yourself, barely tethered to the present. Even when you sat across from him, you were elsewhere. And now, you are nowhere at all.

Viktor sets his fork down. The thought is irrational—this immediate coil of unease in his gut—but it does not loosen. He does not ask where you are yet. He only stands, slow and deliberate, as he leaves the otherwise empty dining room.

It is easier to look for you than to think about what he has not said.

He has tried. He swears he has tried. The words have reached the back of his throat, caught there, strangled before they could see daylight. You have let him speak before—really speak, about things beyond the polite nothings you trade now. But each time he has tried, something stops him.

Sometimes, it is you. A wary glance, a flicker of hesitation when he nears the subject too closely. Other times, it is himself—the heavy hand of caution gripping his shoulder, the fear that one wrong step will send you running.

And then there is the contract. A foolish thing now, a ghost in the air between you, binding him tighter than his own hesitation. What use is freedom when it tastes like regret? What use is it when, instead of granting him solace, it imprisons him—his thoughts spiralling in all the wrong directions? One particularly harrowing thought slices through his heart. He tries to chase it away, yet to no avail. What if?

Upon visiting room after room, he finally finds Eliza. She startles, her fingers tightening around the apron she’s wringing between them. She recovers quickly, smoothing her expression into one of careful neutrality, but Viktor catches the flicker of hesitation in her eyes.

“What can I do for you, sir?” she asks, voice light but not quite steady.

Viktor studies her, his grip tightening on the cane at his side. “Eliza.” His voice is firm, leaving no room for pretences. “Where is she?”

Eliza’s composure cracks for the briefest moment before she dips into a small curtsy. “I am so terribly sorry, but I do not know, my lord.”

It isn’t enough. His pulse beats hard in his throat, his mind filling the absence of answers with the worst possibilities. “Who is she with?” The words slip past his lips before he can stop them, sharp and urgent, betraying more than he wants to.

He knows the contract’s terms, remembers them too well. The very thing he once clung to as assurance that he would not hurt you, not cage you, is now a blade twisting in his gut. The notion that you might have given up—truly given up—and gone ahead with your initial deal, cuts deeper than he is willing to admit.

Whatever you please, with whomever you please. A term he regretted since the beginning.

Eliza’s brows draw together in something like surprise, as if she cannot believe he would even think it. “With no one, my lord.” Her voice is quieter now, something knowing and gentler lacing her words. “She left on her own.”

Before Viktor can react, before he can feel or say anything, a thunderclap splits the sky outside, shaking the very air around them. His head snaps toward the window, where the light has already dimmed, the once-placid sky now churning with bruised clouds.

Where you are, the storm is already raging.

You hadn’t noticed it at first—too lost in the hush of the hills, in the way the vastness of the land swallowed the smallness of your troubles. But then a thick drop of rain lands squarely on the open page of your book, the ink smudging beneath the sudden weight of water. Another follows. Then another.

Hastily, you snap the book shut and rise from your rock of solitude, a cold wind biting at your exposed skin. The first proper gust sends a shiver down your spine, but it is not until the rain comes in earnest—buckets of it, slanting and constant—that you realise how terribly unprepared you are.

You grip the book under your arm, shielding it as best you can, and start back toward the house. There is no avoiding it now; you will be soaked to the bone before you even reach the gates. The walk feels shorter on the way back, and whatever had calmed inside you now feels even softer, as if the tempest in your heart has poured out to be echoed by the storm raging around you.

Rain pours in relentless sheets, drenching you through and threatening to dissolve the book in your hands. You contemplate abandoning your shoes altogether—clogged with mud as they are—but the sheer absurdity of the thought makes you feel strangely light. Home looms on the horizon, and you almost laugh at yourself: a fully grown woman, trotting through the muck in a drenched dress, holding a book over her head as though parchment could shield her from the downpour.

A silhouette emerges in the distance, growing clearer with each step until you can make out Viktor approaching, his coat draped over his head. The mere thought of him sparks something sour in your chest at first, yet the fact that he came out after you—in the middle of a storm—warms you enough that your initial scowl evaporates.

“Thank God,” he exhales as he reaches you. He sticks his cane in the mud, hands grip your shoulders abruptly before pulling the coat from his head and draping it over you. It’s no use—the thing is already soaked through—but the gesture alone is enough.

“Now you’re a believer?” you laugh, swiping rain from your face to see him better.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, his fingers come up to brush wet strands from your forehead, and your heart stumbles when he murmurs, “You know what I mean. Are you hurt?”

Before you can reply, his cold hands cup your face, his thumbs ghosting over your cheeks. You wonder if he notices the heat blooming there.

For days, the feelings had been easier to hold at bay—kept at a careful distance, left to sit absently beside you at the table or dissolve into silence when you passed each other in the corridors. But now, with his touch grounding you in this moment, the illusion shatters. The ache rushes back, stronger than ever, no longer something you can pretend away. His hands, warm despite the chill, cradle you with a gentleness that weakens your resolve, his fingers steady despite the storm raging around you. And his eyes—full of worry, of something close to tenderness—search your face as if you are something fragile, something to be handled with care. The sheer attention of it, the way he truly sees you, steals whatever words you might have said.

“No,” is all that is able to leave you. His gaze burns into you, so intense that you have to look away. “Just wet,” you add softly.

The moment he is certain you are unharmed, Viktor can no longer suppress the tumult of emotions churning within him. Insecurity rages, jealousy—uninvited and fierce—surges to the forefront of his mind, raw and stinging. Without thinking, his hands grasp your shoulders with surprising intensity, his voice taut with restraint as he demands, "Where in God’s name have you been?"

“I—” You start, caught off guard, searching his face for the root of his frustration. But you tell the truth as it is. “I wandered. Too far to make it home before the rain.”

“Who were you with?” The accusation comes faster than his mind can stop it. It is vile—he knows that—you have given him no reason to doubt you, yet he must know. He has to.

Offence flashes across your face, your expression hardening as you straighten and tilt your chin in defiance. “Myself,” you say proudly.

“Do not lie to me, girl,” Viktor growls, his face inches from yours, his breath hot despite the chill of the storm. He swipes a hand through his dripping hair, water trickling into his eyes.

“I do not.” Anger rises in you now, sharp and indignant. You wrench your arms from his grasp. “And what business is it of yours, anyway?”

“You are my wife,” he says, and the words surprise even him. His tone surprises him—self-explanatory and wounded, as if you have done something wrong. His hands surprise him most of all, when, in desperation, they come to your waist, pleading for you not to go. Apology, guilt, need—everything tangled together, because Viktor has no idea how to say what he truly wants to.

“On paper,” you say quietly, one last attempt to hold your ground.

“No.” His grip tightens at your waist as he presses his forehead to yours. “You foolish girl,” he breathes, eyes squeezing shut as his lips barely graze yours. “You don’t know the first thing.” His voice is raw, his fingers digging into the damp fabric at your hips.

“How right you’ve been,” he murmurs at last—before sealing his mouth over yours.

The tension that has stretched between you for weeks—unspoken words, lingering touches, stolen glances—snaps all at once. Viktor moves. His mouth crashes against yours, not gently, not sweetly, but with hours, days, weeks of restraint unravelling in a single, desperate instant. He groans low in his throat as he tastes you—rain and warmth and home—and his hands pull you flush against him, fingers gripping at the small of your back as if he means to fuse you to him.

Water soaks through both of you, but neither of you care.

You gasp against his lips, and Viktor seizes the opportunity, deepening the kiss with a fervour that steals the air from your lungs. His tongue sweeps against yours, demanding, devouring, sending heat searing through your veins. His hands, once gripping you so tightly, soften—one slipping to cradle the back of your head, the other splaying wide against your lower back, keeping you pressed against the solid warmth of him.

Your fingers find purchase in his soaked curls, tugging, eliciting a sound from him that makes your knees weak. He groans against your lips, the sound guttural, wrecked, as though this—you—are the very thing holding him together. He kisses you like he is starving, like he has spent his whole life waiting for this moment and can finally, finally taste freedom.

When you break apart, it is only for air. He does not let you go—his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm against your rain-slicked lips, his fingers trembling where they cradle your spine. His eyes, dark and blown wide with want, search yours, as if trying to make sense of what he’s just done.

He takes your hand and places it on his chest, the rattling inside thunders through your fingers. "My heart aches for you," Viktor clamours, muffled by the rain pouring down upon you both, his voice raw and raspy.

Hot breath fans against your lips, trembling as he clings to you as though letting go would tear him apart. "All of me… aches for you," he says loudly, the words tumbling from him in a pained plea, as if the very act of speaking them is both agony and relief.

His hands come back to tighten around you, fingers dig into your flesh and fist your hair, as though he fears you might slip from his grasp. "I want to worship you, body and soul, as I vowed," he breathes, the words catching in his throat, his lips grazing yours between each shuddering syllable.

"From the moment your lips touched mine, I was undone." His voice falters, thick with longing, as though the very memory of it is too much to bear. He presses his forehead to yours once more, exhaling sharply, as if on the brink of breaking.

"From the moment I saw you playing that wretched sonata, I wanted you." The confession escapes him like a broken thing, something ripped from the depths of him, his need so raw it borders on torment. His mouth hovers over yours, trembling, his breath unsteady, waiting—begging—for you to close the unbearable distance once more. “From the moment I’ve met you I have been a deer, startled and scared of you capturing me but I am no longer.”

And you stand there, his lips on yours, speaking of an unbearable love that has tormented him since the very beginning of this journey. Your heart feels as though it might burst, and for the first time—perhaps ever—words fail you. Your mouth falls open, but nothing comes out. Instead, tears spill over, the weight of his confession striking deep, touching the very core of your being. He has bared his soul to you—here, of all places—in the mud, in the rain.

Before your mind can summon an answer, your arms wind around his neck, fingers tangling in his rain-soaked hair, pulling him closer—deeper—until nothing remains between you. In this kiss, you try to convey everything your heart drives through your veins. Your lips ache, swollen from the force of his devotion, and his tongue—hot, insistent, unrelenting—feels nothing short of sinful against yours. And you want to sin with him, more than you have ever wanted anything.

When the kiss breaks, Viktor breathes heavily, yet a calmness washes over him. As much as he would love to stay here, far from everyone, his practical mind takes over. “Let’s get you home,” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and retrieving his cane from the mud.

The journey back to the house is a clumsy one, filled with laughter and unspoken confessions lingering in the space between your bodies. The mud sucks at your shoes, threatens to steal them from your feet entirely, and more than once, Viktor nearly stumbles, caught between his cane and the treacherous ground. You reach for him instinctively, and when his arm slips around your waist in response, you smile and place your hands on his.

By the time the estate looms before you, the storm has softened into a steady downpour. Algernon rushes out to meet you, a look of pure horror crossing his face as he takes in your drenched and mud-splattered forms. Ever the devoted butler, he brandishes an umbrella as if it could somehow remedy the state you’ve both been reduced to.

“My lord, my lady—” He barely gets the words out before you both dissolve into laughter, Viktor’s hand swatting away the offered umbrella.

“I believe we are well beyond saving,” Viktor remarks, shaking water from his free hand.

You nod, wiping the rain from your brow. “It is a noble effort, Algernon, but I fear no umbrella could salvage us now.”

Surrendering with a put-upon sigh, Algernon steps aside as the two of you make your way inside. Mud trails behind you, streaking the floor, but neither of you care. Your shoes are discarded in the hallway, and you twist the water from your hair, watching the rivulets drip onto the stone.

Eliza appears a moment later, her face a mixture of worry and relief. She hesitates as though torn between embracing you and scolding you outright. Before she can decide, you reach for her, smoothing your hands over her shoulders.

“It’s all right,” you say gently, offering a tired smile. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

Eliza exhales, her tension easing, though the concern does not fully leave her. “Come, let me draw you a bath, my lady. I’ll have warm towels sent up and—”

“No need,” Viktor interjects. His arm finds its place around your shoulders once more, his hold neither forceful nor uncertain, but deliberate. His voice is steady, brooking no argument. “I will... take care of it.”

A hush falls over the room. The weight of eyes upon you is unmistakable, the quiet, watchful sort of curiosity that cannot be helped. But you do not care.

You keep your gaze on Viktor as he looks straight ahead, guiding you forward. Only when you reach the top of the stairs do you falter, stopping by habit at the threshold of your own door. He nearly keeps walking, and when your pause forces him to a halt, he turns to you, hesitation flickering across his face.

Then you take the first step. Without a word, you move forward, past the familiar safety of your room, and he follows. He leads you down the hall, through the dim glow of candlelight and the quiet of the house, until he reaches his door.

It opens with a soft creak, and you step inside together, fingers still intertwined. The air in Viktor’s chamber is warmer than the hallway, scented faintly of parchment and oil, but it does little to chase the chill clinging to your skin.

You stand there, neither of you moving, uncharted waters spreading before you. The rain outside has dulled to a gentle patter against the windows, the only sound between you save for your breaths—his, steady but heavy; yours, shallow with anticipation.

Viktor’s eyes search yours, his grip on your hand loosening only so he can reach up, his thumb skimming across your cheek. The gesture is tender, reverent. His lips part as if he means to say something, but instead, he lingers, his brow furrowing as though he cannot quite believe this moment is real.

Then he exhales, shaking his head slightly, as if clearing his thoughts. “I will draw you a bath,” he murmurs, his voice quiet. He turns, about to step away, but before he can, your fingers curl around his wrist, stopping him. He barely has time to register the shift before you pull him back to you, your lips capturing his in a kiss that is anything but hesitant. It is deep, insistent, brimming with a need that has long since stopped being bearable.

He makes a sound against your mouth—a sharp inhale, half surprise, half surrender. His hands find your waist, hesitant only for a second before they tighten, pulling you close.

You break away only long enough to whisper, breathless and sure, “I cannot wait any longer.” Your hands tangle in his hair, holding him there. Your forehead presses to his, your lips brushing as you give him your confession. “I want you now.”

It is all that Viktor needs. It is more than enough—beyond anything he could have hoped for. He exhales, long and deep, and takes your hands in his.

“My wife,” he murmurs, bringing your knuckles to his lips. In a voice meant for you and you alone, he whispers, “Ask anything of me, and I will give it to you.”

He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, and when he speaks again, it is as if his words are woven directly into the fabric of your being.

“You have bewitched me, body and soul, and—” His hands, still chilled from the rain but impossibly gentle, cup the base of your skull. His thumbs brush over your temples, reverent, trembling slightly as he breathes, “I love, I love, I love you.”

Heart, soul, and body seized, you let him guide you backward toward the bed. His fingers ghost along your back as he undoes each button—blindly, yet deftly, as though he has been preparing for this moment for the longest time. The ribbon at your waist slides free at his touch, and with steady hands, he eases the dress from your shoulders, baring the soaked chemise that clings to the contours of your body.

His lips find yours again, tender, slower, as the moment gets extended in time. Hands skim over your arms, then down, finding purchase at your waist before trailing higher. Through the damp fabric, his palms cup the curve under the hill of your breasts, thumbs grazing over the hardened peaks. His breath hitches, and a low, reverent sound escapes him as he squeezes gently.

“Forgive me for being such a fool,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead to yours for a fleeting moment before his lips begin their descent.

He kisses down the column of your throat, lingering at your pulse before trailing lower, tracing a heated path to the curve of your collarbone. His mouth moves with purpose, and the wet layer of second skin clinging to you catches on his lips with a pulling, teasing touch. Where his breath and lips travel, warmth spreads; where he moves away, cool air rushes in, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

When his tongue swipes over where he knows you must ache for more, you gasp, your fingers burying in his hair. The tug makes his breath stutter, his heart wonder whether it’s a hesitation or eagerness.

“I love you,” he reassures into your chest. “My wife, I love you.”

Time folds around you, warping in the face of the moment you have longed for, the one you never let yourself believe would come to pass. It still feels impossible, like grasping at fog in the dawn—slipping through your fingers, becoming real where he touches you. You are trembling, though not from cold. The weight of waiting and yearning presses into your ribs like the wind before a storm, swelling until it threatens to break you apart.

Your fingers slide from his hair to the nape of his neck, where it clings to his skin in dampness. You tug to make him look at you. His eyes, burning gold even in the dim light, find yours at once.

“Viktor, I have never—” The words come fragile, barely more than breath. An unnecessary confession meets his kind eyes, and you realise he knows.

A quiet understanding settles over him as he nods thoughtfully, his hand gliding over the curve of your stomach, a grounding touch. “You know I won’t hurt you,” he murmurs.

And he won’t. Because you are not prey beneath him, not something to be taken. Now you are the wild creature caught in a snare, and Viktor is not the hunter—he is a man who has found you bound and trembling, and with steady hands, he grants you freedom.

Those hands slide down your sides and his mouth follows, pressing into your stomach, hums fall between each kiss. A tremor passes through him as he sinks to one knee before you, steadying himself on the edge of the bed. His palm presses against the back of your thigh, urging you to part for him. And then, with an aching slowness, he leans in.

His face presses against the apex of your thighs, and he inhales deeply—a shuddering breath that seems all-consuming. Heat pools, not only from the warmth of his lips but from the want that boils over, spilling right where his mouth lingers.

“Let me have you,” he pleads. "I beg you.”

Mouth agape, you lift your chemise—a non-verbal answer. You grasp it around your hips and lift, inch by inch, revealing your skin to him. Where it goes, Viktor’s hands follow. With its lift he rises, palms tracing up your body in a scalding touch. You rid yourself of your last layer shielding you from his eyes and stand naked before him, waiting and nervous. The air kisses your bare flesh before he does.

Through the kiss, his hands find yours, guiding them to his neck. Fingers on fingers, he ushers your palms to his buttons. You undo them one by one, yet your pulse pounds like rainfall against glass, impossible to still. You don’t know when it happens, but at last, his damp shirt gapes open, revealing glimpses of pale skin beneath.

You slip it from his shoulders and pause. Valleys of alabaster stretched flat over his chest lay before your eyes, marked by dark points of freckles and birth marks. Below, his stomach is hidden by layers of leather and suddenly you feel guilty for ever complaining about your breasts being bound. You search for permission within his eyes, and once more, his hands answer. He guides your fingers to straps and buckles and mutters a calming, trustful, “It’s alright. Here—”

You are granted a secret map to his ribs, when your arms crowd his frame and work blindly at the back—the brace gives with a small hiss, ungluing itself from him, pulling on the skin as you take it off. Underneath his flesh is tender, dent and blushed where the leather clung to it.

A shuddery breath escapes your mouth when you seek purchase of your forehead against his, and your hands trying to convey the feeling of awe press flatly to his stomach. Belly button sucks in on instinct, startled by the touch, meeting his spine before he relaxes into a breath and presses his naked chest to yours. He shudders then, as the meeting of skin and soul ripples through him.

Emboldened, you lean in and press your lips to his collarbone, tasting salt and rain. He sighs, the sound low and unguarded, and his head lulls back, offering more. Like the earth drinking in the first warmth of spring, he yields to you, welcomes you, as though you are the sun breaking through his endless winter.

Your hands begin their journey lower, trembling around his waist. Slowly, you dip your fingers past the clasps of his slacks, easing them down. He exhales when you free him, his arms loosen at his sides, fingers twitching as he stops himself from threading them into your hair and pulling your face flush against him.

There is one more cage stopping you from having him bare. It hugs his leg tightly, an embrace of metal tempered by Jayce’s hammer. The eye of Viktor’s knee stares at you when you mirror your husband and lower yourself to kneel. He leans to help you, guiding your fingers to where they should unclasp and pull, set him free if only for a moment. The brace falls heavy around his ankle, and without hesitation, you offer your shoulder for him to steady himself as he steps out from the last remnants of metal and cloth.

Your eyes remain fixed ahead as you take him in—half-hard, resting in the crease of his thigh. And Viktor does not need to guide you anywhere. Because just as he did, you lean in, pressing your cheek to the side of him, inhaling deeply through your nose as your eyes flutter shut. The scent of earth, rain, and soft skin fills your lungs, warming you from the inside out. Only then does his hand find your hair—because he can’t help himself.

The thought—insistent—may have first invaded his mind the moment he laid eyes upon your lips, only to return, night after night, as a recurring vision in the solitude of his room, mere walls away from you. But another, more pressing thought eclipses the last when he finally beckons you upward and whispers, his voice taut with restraint, “Please, lay down for me.”

You obey as you vowed—the mattress gives beneath you as you settle, breath unsteady, fingers twitching where they rest above your heart. Viktor follows, bracing himself between your legs, and with a  slowness that has your breath stuttering, he lifts them over his shoulders, wrapping his arms around your hips. His fingers press into the soft flesh, and he yanks you closer, his belly pressing into the bed.

Light of the day has vanished, and the night air kisses your skin where the clothes no longer shield you. He is careful, so careful, and yet you still tremble when his breath ghosts over the curls at the meeting of your thigs. He presses a kiss to the inside of your leg, and when you flinch, a hum, slow and deep, comes to reassure you. “There is nothing you must hide from me.” His hands squeeze gently at your hips, lips trailing lower. “Let me love you as you are.”

He bows his head, and you exhale—a breath long held finally set free. To see him better you prop yourself on your elbows only to fall back down in a seizing cramp when warm lips come to your centre—soft at first, a mere press, a breath, as if testing what can be done. Then firmer, more certain when Viktor begins to chart the shape of you with his mouth. A shiver rolls through you, coiling low in your belly, curling like ivy around your ribs.

His tongue is your tormentor—seeking, learning and teasing, and when you give away a sharp gasp, a low chuckle rumbles across your skin. His arms tighten around your thighs, holding you open as he delves deeper. And above all things—eager and careful, Viktor is meticulous, as he always is. You are certain a map to your undoing is being crafted in his brain.

Heat spreads in molten waves, pulling you under, swallowing you whole and your breath starts coming in fractured syllables. Viktor hums against you, the vibration alone makes you whimper. He is enjoying this, you realise with a fresh wave of disbelief. The way he lingers, drags his tongue in long, lazy strokes only to pull away and watch the way you writhe and have you reach blindly for him.

When he parts from you, just barely, you whimper at the loss. But then—oh—he presses a kiss to the aching place he has abandoned and murmurs, voice hungry and adoring, “You are even lovelier like this.”

He does not wait for you to answer—does not give you the chance. Instead, he dips his head once more, lips sealing around you in a way that has your neck exposed, your hands flying to his hair, pulling him closer, though you hardly know whether you mean to push him away or drown beneath his touch.

You choose to drown. Finding purchase in his curls, your hips press down, moving of their own accord against his lips as the tide swells within you. Heat surges through your veins, pooling low, taut as an overripe fruit on the verge of bursting, an eggshell cracking under pressure, a kettle whistling furiously, its handle too hot to grasp.

Your restraint shatters as his name spills from your lips, followed by a sharp, helpless fuck. Viktor nearly smirks—he wants to tease, to remark on how sweetly filthy your mouth is and how much he’s missed hearing it—but he does not dare stop now.

His tongue delves deeper, coaxing you over the edge with aching precision. Pressure crests, then snaps—your body seizes, taut as a bowstring, before releasing all at once. You break beneath him, limbs trembling, thighs quivering against his shoulders. The aftershocks roll through you in shudders, little earthquakes that leave you breathless, utterly undone.

You clasp a hand to your forehead and inhale deeply, and before you can say a word your man is beside you, lips glistening with your slick, eyes happy and complete. Affection surges through you when you wrap yourself around him, straddle his lap and sink your tongue into his mouth, kissing him greedily, tasting yourself on his lips and whisper a breathy, “God, I love you.” Before his startled chuckle forms into an answer you cut his breath off again, licking into his mouth, mussing his hair and teasing his cock with your ass and Viktor groans, overwhelmed, helpless hands come to steady your hips.

With this, you calm yourself. His tongue moves in an unhurried, gentle rhythm, his eyelashes brushing against your warm cheek with every slow blink. Your hair, still curled and frizzled from the rain, falls around you both like a heavy curtain, shielding your faces from the world.

Curious, you reach behind yourself, where he is hard and aching for you. Wetness beads at the tip, spilling like tears of pleasure, and as you spread it across his flushed skin, his hips jerk instinctively, seeking more of your touch.

His hand wraps around yours, guiding you, fingers threading through your own as he strokes himself with your joined touch. The sensation is close to unbearable—too much, too soon, after too long. A groan breaks from his throat, and his jaw tenses as if he is trying to restrain himself, to keep from losing control and joining you in little death too soon.

He feels foolish at the way his body reacts, at how the simplest brush, a touch close to innocent almost ends him. He presses his forehead to yours, breath uneven, and when he finally guides your hips lower, his length standing proud at your entrance, he whispers, “Slow.”

You nod, eyes glazing over him, taking him in as you sit up. His chest hollows with each breath, a sheen of sweat clinging to him like a satin veil. Strands of damp hair plaster to his forehead, and his throat bobs with a swallow as he looks at you—eyes full of reverence, of adoration so boundless it takes away your fear. Never have you seen a man this pretty.

Your hips lower to take him, and an unfamiliar stretch unlocks your jaw, making your mouth hang agape. Your fingers had done Viktor no justice, just as his did none to you. He is real and hot and solid, filling you in a way that leaves you breathless, caught between hesitation and wonder. A whimper escapes you as your body adjusts, as he parts you, claiming space within you that had never been taken before.

And you want it to belong to Viktor. A long moment passes in breath-filled silence as you accept him whole. He throbs within your muscles but does not rush you, waiting—always waiting—for you to move first. And when you do—oh, his poor soul nearly leaves his body.

Hands tremble as they brace against your thighs, his grip unsteady, barely grounding himself in the reality of you. When your hips begin to roll, he watches, helpless, as he sees himself peeking from the darkness of your curls, only to lose the sight again when you drag yourself up along his navel.

Daring to test his fate, Viktor presses a hand to your stomach, urging you to lean back. You obey, arching for him, palms braced on his thighs. And there—there is his fantasy made flesh.

His breath stutters as he sees it: himself, deep inside you, pressing against the taut plane of your belly, bulging beneath your skin. A sight he barely dared to dream would feel this intoxicating. Fascinated, he smooths his fingers over it, tracing the outline solemnly. Just as in the confines of his mind, your hair spills back, teasing against his thighs, and you move—slow and torturous. A rhythm of your own making, agonising him, locking him in the perversion he has dreamt of countless nights.

And you—God, you are full. Claimed in a way you had never imagined, the sensation unlike anything your fingers could have ever prepared you for. Not pain—something richer, deeper, something that makes you feel shaped for this. For him. But this time, you are not merely taken. You are taking. You are the one in control, the one choosing how he claims you, deciding how deep, how slow, how much he will be lost inside you.

Viktor curses, voice rough, and the sound ignites something in you, a power that spurs you to move again, to ride him deeper. He groans, his grasp flexing against your belly, then lower, until his fingers find where your bodies join. And then—oh.

A brush of his thumb. Once. Twice. A slow, teasing circle over your clit, like a scientist he is, testing a theory. Your breath snags, thighs tensing. Encouraged, he presses again, firmer this time, his touch finding a rhythm, coaxing pleasure to coil deep and hot in your gut.

Viktor watches you through heavy-lidded eyes, mouth parted as if he means to speak but cannot find the words. His thumb moves in slow circles, in tandem with the languid rise and fall of your hips, as if guiding you to ruin at a pace you dictate. And you let him, lost in the sensation of being utterly filled, utterly known.

Then, voice hoarse, he finally breathes, “Had I not been here, feeling you—God, seeing you—I would never believe it to be true.” His free hand, the one not lost between your bodies, slides up your ribs, splaying over your sternum, as if to hold this moment inside you, as if to brand it into your very bones.

Your lashes flutter, and you cover his hand with your own, pressing it against your chest, against your heart that beats wildly beneath his palm. “It would not be true without you,” you whisper, and the honesty in it undoes him.

Viktor groans, something guttural and raw, his fingers flexing as if to grasp every part of you at once. His hips jolt beneath you, breaking the rhythm, and you cry out, the sudden force of it igniting something deeper. His thumb falters, then presses harder, more insistent, chasing your pleasure as his own unravels.

“You—” His voice fractures, shaking like his hands as they map over your body, overwhelmed by this. This heart given to him. “You are—” He does not finish, because his mouth captures yours instead, open, desperate, as if he could drink the words from your lips, as if you alone make them true.

Holding hands at the edge of the mountain, you step forward with your eyes closed. A yapping dog of reason tries to stop you, but you long lost your sight for anything else than each other. Your bodies fall into one another—fast and seizing. Muscles contract, and what Viktor gives, you take—you draw his hot seed into you with the quiver of your core, tightening, milking, binding you as one. Your souls—two fools at the beginning of their journey—find solid ground on the invisible bridge of faith.

It unravels into breaths, into mouths seeking each other again—no longer grasping, only wanting. And you fall once more, this time into a tight embrace, joined by hearts, by hips, by hands tangled in each other’s hair, sweat mingling with the scent of rain you carried in from the fields.

You dream of them—sunken into mist that twirls around the trees, resting heavily upon the grass. The valley stretches wide, endless, as quiet as breath. Somewhere within it, a stag stands, noble and still, his antlers a crown of patience. Near him, his mate, delicate but steadfast, her ears flicking at the whispers of the wind. They do not startle, nor flee, for there is no threat here. No snare, no hunter—only the hush of dawn and the hush of their existence, intertwined.

You sleep upon the flat of Viktor’s chest, your fingers resting in the gentle ditches of his ribs, rising and falling with the tide of his breath. Peace holds you both, in body and in dream, where nothing must be said to be known.

Dawn peeks through the window, pale and silver-edged, stirring you from slumber. Viktor does not wake yet. You turn your head, watching him. Angelic, spent, and weightless in rest, his lips curve at the corners with a smile that lingers even in sleep. It is the expression of a man at peace, and it tightens something deep within you.

Quietly, you slip from the bed and move to the window, drawing the curtain shut—but you pause. There, beyond the glass, in the hush of morning, you see it.

A stag. Proud and slow, he feeds upon the grass at the edge of the forest. His hide gleams faintly in the light, the soft bristle of his fur shifting with the breeze. Beside him, a doe—graceful, watchful. She moves with him, unhurried, as if they have all the time in the world. Together, they exist beyond any tether, any force that would claim them.

You watch, transfixed, until warmth curls around your belly—Viktor’s arms, pulling you gently against him. His chin settles in the crook of your shoulder, and for a long moment, he says nothing, seeing what you are seeing.

Then, at last, his voice, soft and knowing: “My beloved.” He exhales, his breath fanning over your skin, and you feel it—a quiet, smiling revelation settling into your bones. “If I were ever a man in this equation, I fear I was a foolish one.” You turn to nuzzle into him, your lips brushing his jaw as you whisper, “I’m afraid neither of us, at any point, has been a man, my husband.”

[twstfanblog]

Hello I have a request, if you aren't doing requests please ignore this! But anyways the request is that may I have the TWST characters (especially the housewardens) and how would they react see their s/o in like traditional clothing from their world (example: Chinese traditional clothing is like qipao) Thank you so much! Have a fabulous day 💝

Qipao (Traditional & Modern) Reactions

Housewardens x Reader

Riddle

Traditional

Thinks the dress is beautiful. Even though it's loose, it still carries an air of professionalism. A perfect garment for his lovely rose. Really likes the modest nature of them.

Asks you lots of questions on the history of the garment if you know it. Ask if he could wear one as well. Just so many questions, he's pulled out a notebook to take notes.

Matching rose patterned qipao/tang suit for walks in the garden together!

Modern

WHY IS THE SLIT SO HIGH!?

Still thinks it's a very pretty dress, but he can not stop looking at the thigh slit. It compels him. Good lord, you're not even wearing tights!

Struggling to remain polite, but the dress is form fitting and you have a very lovely ass- excuse him, he needs to...be...out of the public eye.

Leona

Traditional

Jokingly calls it your fancy potato sack. Apologizes if you get actually mad at him calling it that.

Lowkey, he really likes it and does enjoy that it's still comfortable enough for you to nap with him. Half serious asks if they're pajamas.

Will start wearing Dashikis when you wear your qipao. Cultural matching ❤️

Modern

AYO-

Goes dead silent, his eyes are watching your every move. The dress is tight, the slit is mid thigh. You look good and he's pissed you're not in grabbing distance.

Tells you you can't wear that qipao outside of his room. Not even Ramshackle. Now walk closer, he's gonna...grab ya.

Azul

Traditional

Fascinated and asking questions. Both about the cultural history and the manufacturing side.

Thinks it's a very lovely dress with high marketing potential; simple yet perfect for all class levels due to the fabric and embroidery you can make with it.

Lowkey wants to gift you some more because he just likes them so much and he thinks you look elegant in them (Be his spouse please).

Modern

Honestly, it took him a hot minute to really notice. Since modern qipaos are made to be so fancy, he first started picking it apart to discern value like he does all new things.

Really noticed the silhouette and how revealing it was once he looked at the chest area and saw how tight it was.

Compliments the dress but then says he has important business to do. No, he will NOT stand up-

Kalim

Traditional

OH! You look so pretty! You always look pretty, but the qipao just makes you look EXTRA pretty like every other thing you wear.

He's breaking down the outfit by the quality of fabric alone. He pouts it's not 100% some super rare silk that only grows in 4 parts of the world in Spring during the rain on a full moon.

Whining at you and Jamil to let him make so many qipaos. He will have a literal factory up and running by mid day just to make you more of these gorgeous slips so that you're always cozy.

Modern

Nearly ruins it doing a spit take at seeing you. The boy is too stunned to speak, mouth open and getting coconut juice all over his front.

Once he snaps out of it he's all smiles again and asking you to show it off. Do a spin! The fabic is so pretty when you twirl, can you dance in it!? Come dance with him!

Lowkey just way too excited about you being in them. Fills him with some kind of energy where he just wants to hold you and spin around with you. Keeps fighting himself to not get down on one knee.

Vil

Traditional

'Oh?'

Interested in them but has his complaints (as always). He doesn't like how they hang shapeless, but the positives manage to outweigh the negatives in its function and appearance. Over all thinks its a cute house dress design and that you look nice in them.

Ends up commissioning some silk qipaos to have as lounge wear. Being comfortable, yet ready to host is an amazing new option he's gained.

Modern

'OH!?'

More complaints but it's because the dress is so sexy. It's too tight, the slit shows too much thigh, the boob window is unnecessary. He won't stop complaining but lowkey is so FLUSTERED.

He keeps tugging and picking at the outfit like he isn't pulling you into his lap to mutter into your neck all his frustrations on having such an attractive partner.

Idia

Traditional

Almost didn't really notice because he was showing you something in his game. Once he does notice he remarks on how nice you look.

Honestly, doesn't say much about it but will take notice if you wear them a lot when you go see him. He'll ask about them, asks if you really like them. He can and will buy you a bunch of them in various colors and patterns.

He does get you matching ones of your mains in the current MMO he's dragged you into. Lazy cosplaying for the win.

Modern

He took one look and froze, only unfroze because he started dying in game.

How could you do this? Why have you come into his room looking SEXY and forced him to look at you? What do you think hes gonna do???? Rip your clothes off and throw you on the bed????

He keeps peeking at you then turning away with his hair giving away just how flustered he is. Still manages to stutter out how nice you look.

Malleus

Traditional

Oh look at this. His lovely child of man is in new clothing. Please give him the entire history on the garment.

Lowkey, I think he'd really like them. It's very simple but with the potential of being super fancy just with easy fabric choices and embroidery.

Compliments you all the time when he sees you wearing one. Asks if only certain people can wear them. Do you think he'd look good in one? Just really likes them.

Modern

"...So, would you like a Summer wedding?"

This a dangerous game. He loves you so much already, but now you show him how attractive you are in tight clothing that shows off your skin? He will marry you, he will marry you so fast.

Lowkey rips it on accident, and apologies for hours. God forbid if you got one with a dragon winding around you. He honeslty got a little territorial and that's why his claws got caught on the stitching...

[rae-writes]

Changes

multifandom || 0.6k || situationship to relationship

After you called off the arrangement, he. . .

Doesn’t last more than a few days without you — he wasn’t cut out for this ‘casual, no feelings’ kinda thing anyway; doesn’t know what to do with himself now that you aren’t around and is an absolute mess because he is hopelessly in love with you and has been for awhile. Knows he should’ve confessed sooner and spends an ungodly amount of time trying to figure out how to confess before ultimately just showing up at your door out of the blue and word vomiting everything that comes to mind. It’s frantic and jumbled, but he ends it with a firm- yet panicked- ‘I love you!’. After either laughing or tearing up a little, you [adoringly] shut him up with a kiss and let him really ask you out when he’s calmed down. 

↳ IZUKU MIDORIYA, Kirishima Eijiro, BACHIRA MEGURU, Yoichi Isagi, REO MIKAGE, SAKURA HARUKA, Umemiya Hajime, NIREI AKIHIKO, ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA, Edgar A. Poe, Chuuya Nakahara (hear me out), GENYA SHINAGUZAWA, Tanjiro Kamado, RENGOKU KYOJURO, NARUTO UZUMAKI, Itachi Uchiha

Doesn’t last more than a few weeks without you — he really tried to ignore the aching feelings that washed over him like a wave every time he remembered that he didn’t have you anymore: but he was stubborn. Stupidly stubborn and stupidly in love. As the weeks start to pile up, he can’t take it— he’s tried to move on, but he couldn’t even stand getting close to anyone, much less get past mindless flirting. It made him sick because it wasn’t you. Shows up at your door early in the morning one day, in the pouring rain, and gets on his knees, begging for you to forgive him and take him back and so many other rushed confessions that his voice ends up cracking by the time he says ‘I-I love you!’. He’s only placated when you cup his cheek, noting that he wasn’t usually like this and that you could talk it out, but he doesn’t miss the grin on your face.

↳ KATSUKI BAKUGO, Tomura Shigaraki, KEIGO TAKAMI, NAGI SEISHIRO, Shidou Ryusei, RIN ITOSHI, Endo Yamato, JO TOGAME,  DAZAI OSAMU, Tachihara Michizou, Ranpo Edogawa, SHIKAMARU NARA, KAKASHI HATAKE

Doesn’t last a year without you — He was blunt with his intentions from the start: physical, no feelings. It’s how he did things and he had a reputation to prove it. He didn’t bank on actually falling for you, though, so when you left, he took it in stride. His habits continued…but for some reason, it made him angry any time he heard your name. He wasn’t used to the pit in his chest, so naturally, he vented it out on other trysts. Months had passed and his friends kept pointing out how he didn’t really seem happy anymore— and then they dropped a bombshell. You were seen on a date with some other guy. He seethes for weeks, punching holes in his walls, driving way too fast down the freeways, and he still didn’t know why! But then he finds an old video in his snap memories of you laughing and lying over him half naked, pressing kisses all over his face. And that’s how he found himself meeting you outside your door after you’d gotten dropped off from your nth date and at first he didn’t know what to say, but then the apology came and the stinging of his eyes and a choked, gruff confession that he fucking loves you goddamnit, and he knows he was a dumb dick, but he’s ready to beg to start over with you. Do it right from the start. The hug you both share is ‘end of the world’ desperate, but it gives him hope. He’ll be a good man. For you. 

↳ SAE ITOSHI, Post!WildCard Kunigami Rensuke, TAKIISHI CHIKA, Dark Era/Beast!Dazai Osamu, SANEMI SHINAGUZAWA, SASUKE UCHIHA (or any of our other emotionally stunted boys, my mind was blanking <3)

[antimonyandthyme]

remember this?

Makeup’s directive was one word: wet. There’re rain towers going on, but they’re still spraying Carlos with UltraWet for added effect. Carlos ends up looking thoroughly soggy. A little like a dog left in the rain for too long, getting colder by the minute. Too sad for anyone to leave outside, really. Oscar’s standing close enough to see the goose pimples breaking out on his skin.

He’s still gamely smiling through his shivering though, smiling at everyone, including Oscar. Oscar looks away. On good days he can manage not to stare. Today Carlos happens to be half-naked.

There’re technically no stunts on the docket, but Oscar still needs to be here. Carlos is meant to throw himself to the ground in the scene, and the most innocuous of actions can somehow turn dangerous in Carlos’s hands. An exaggerated fall, a warm coffee cup, passed over in apology.

Everyone’s a little tense, on account of George barking at them to keep their mouths shut. Stop making this place sound like an office breakroom, there’s an intense scene today. If you need to chat, do it elsewhere. Better still, just don’t. As a result, costumes hasn’t come over to laugh at Oscar wearing the same hoodie for three days in a row, and Oscar, for lack of anyone to talk to, goes back to staring at Carlos.

Lighting has turned Carlos’s skin garish on purpose, highlighting the trauma makeup around his ribs and the jut of his hipbone. Purple vivid enough to make Oscar glare, ascertain for himself it isn’t real. Carlos has done scenes with a broken toe before. He fancies himself an artist, working through the pain. Oscar came the closest to anger when he’d found out. Took them days before they could look each other in the eye again, after Oscar had raised his voice on set for what seemed like the first time in his career.

James and Carlos are huddled together, running through the shots. Wide angle then medium close-up, and then it’s all Carlos from there. From past experience, Oscar knows it won’t take long to set up. Carlos might wink and charm and make small talk about the game on the weekend, but he’s never once come unprepared. When James calls for action, it’s deathly quiet, anticipatory-like.

Oscar’s spent so long being annoyed at Carlos’s face that he’d almost forgotten how many cracks can break its surface, like shifting sand on a dune. He’s been betrayed, left for dead by his blood brother he’d sworn allegiance to. Someone he’d take a bullet for. And he’s left with nothing, not even the shirt on his back. Reading the script the first time Oscar had skimmed through this portion. Emotional outburst, yeah, they’ve all seen it.

Except he wouldn’t call the shape of Carlos’s mouth an outburst. It’s moving in ripples, like it doesn’t know how to lay itself flat. And his eyes—his eyes. Oscar can’t seem to look too long, has to flick his gaze from the monitor and then to the man in front of him, shaking now, the rain finally pierced through, then back to the monitor again. Carlos isn’t crying, not yet. He may as well be.  

The smallest of movements, Carlos’s feet stuttering forward in the mud. Unconsciously, Oscar leans forward, like something in him is trying to crawl the distance between them. He can sense the tilt of Carlos’s centre of gravity before it’s happening, the call of the ground. The script supervisor has one hand over her mouth. James is so close to the monitor screen he might be kissing it. It could be rain on Carlos’s cheeks, but not a single person here would doubt his tears.

Oscar’s had his legs taken out from underneath him when he’d been part of action sequences back in the day. Hit so hard his breath is forced from him, had to lie inmoving for a long, long time before he could even think about getting up. It’s a difficult feeling to describe, the air leaving your lungs. When Carlos’s knees strike the ground, Oscar knows the exact sound punched out of Carlos’s throat like a memory.

It’s an age before James calls cut on the close up of Carlos’s broken expression. Oscar doesn’t understand his sudden impatience, the need to haul Carlos up himself. He roots his feet to the ground stubbornly and allows James to have the first few words, hears Carlos say, Let’s go again.

Only then, escaping urgently from behind his teeth, “Your knees?”

“Ay, Oscar,” Carlos says. “I did not break them like I broke my toe.”

A reminder Oscar definitely doesn’t need. He wants to shake this man, he wants to wipe his face clean. “Just making sure,” he says stiffly.

“You are worried, yes?” Carlos says, sounding oddly hopeful. “About me?”

“Sure,” Oscar says, because when it had seemed they had genuinely crossed a line with each other after the injury, it’d been a sickening time. Not being able to joke with Carlos, or groan out loud when he claimed he wanted to perform another stunt by himself, made Oscar awful uneasy. He’ll say what he must to appease Carlos, that’s always been the game. Never mind that his answer morphs Carlos’s expression into something bright and beautiful.

“Only because I know you’ll kneel until your knees bruise.”

“Oh ho,” Carlos says. “You’ll find out it takes more than that for my knees to stop working.”

Oscar blinks.

Carlos blinks back. “Uh,” he says. He gestures to somewhere behind him. “I have to, uh. We’re going again. I asked James—I want to do it another time, so we’ll. We’ll go again.”

“Uh huh,” Oscar says, voice embarrassingly high. “Okay. I’ll. Just be here.”

It must be his imagination, or. Or it must be makeup, adding a dash of warm blush on the palette of Carlos's face. No one notices, and then Carlos turns around and proceeds to cry on camera like he hadn’t just insinuated he’d get on his knees for—

Thud. Carlos hits the ground again, and goes and gives another Oscar-worthy performance, and all Oscar can think of is.

Red, wet cheeks. Purple knees.

[knifethevix]

gifts they leave you anonymously. gender neutral, reader is mentioned to wear perfume in phainon's part. TW // yandere. happy belated white day. :)

Anaxagoras

When you open your door one morning, you find a small bouquet of your favourite flower and a necklace in its box on your doorstep.

Anaxa watches you, hidden from all sight as you look up and down the street in confusion, then bring both the gifts inside. Good. The tension in his chest eases a little. At least you hadn't thrown them away.

When you meet him in the market (by chance, he says, though he knows that's a lie), he's delighted to see you wearing his gift. He'd picked it out specially for you, knowing that it was too pretty for you not to wear despite its unknown sender.

It brings out your eyes, he wants to tell you. You look wonderful.

"Anaxa? You're staring again."

He blinks. Yes, he'd been staring again, enraptured by your beauty - not just that, but the pendant around your throat, your voice, your curious, concerned expression...

He wets his lips. "My apologies. I had a late night."

"Oh, well." You take the arm he offers to you, the picture of the perfect gentleman. "You really should get more rest. You're always working."

"I'll be fine." Your warmth against his body is impossibly intoxicating. He pulls you a little closer into him. "As you were saying...?"

"Oh, yes!" You finger the pendant absently. "It was so strange. Someone left me flowers and this necklace at my door, but I have no clue who it is. Do you have any idea who it might be?"

He shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips. "No idea. None at all."

Mydei

A box of chocolates sits in your cubbyhole, nestled next to your bag.

"Did someone leave this here?" you ask. Your colleague simply shrugs.

You lock up for the night, nibbling on one of the chocolates. It's just the right amount of sweetness you prefer.

Well, good food is good food, no matter where it comes from.

"Mydei!" You give the former crown prince a cheerful wave. He's leaning on the wall across the store with his signature smouldering expression, the same way he'd been doing the past few weeks since you'd met him. "Look, someone left me chocolates!"

Mydei tenses. Who? Was there an admirer of yours that he wasn't aware about?

Until you wave his box around, and he relaxes. Of course. He was the only one left with his eye on you, obviously.

"Chocolates?" he scoffs. "They should have left something better."

"Come on now." You bump him with your shoulder, an act only you'd dare to pull off. "It's the thought that counts. I appreciate them... even if you won't."

You narrow your eyes playfully at him. Mydei shoves your face away as gently as he dares, and you reel away laughing.

This is all he'd dare to ask for - simple nights spent walking you home, relishing what little time he might have left with you.

Phainon

You almost miss the letter fluttering in the crack beneath your door.

You nearly step on it on your way out, then quickly lunge after it and snatch it out of the sky before it can fly away.

You turn it over in your hands. It hadn't even come with an envelope, a detail that makes you smile to yourself. What if it'd be raining? It reminded you of one of the people closest to you - Phainon, Chrysos Heir and absolute dork when not on the battlefield.

The paper is heavy and the writing neat and looping. Had the sender commissioned a professional to write this for you?

A call from down the road has you looking up. Speaking of the devil, Phainon was trotting down the street, looking about as cheery as anyone could in the mornings.

"Good morning!" He pulls you into a hug; something that'd been odd to you at first, but you'd gotten used to it eventually. Phainon was affectionate like that, you decided. "What's that?"

He gestures towards the letter in your hand.

"A letter for me, I think." You fold it back in half. "I'll read it later."

"Oh-" Phainon catches your hand. You look at him, startled. "Wh-why not you read it now?"

"What?" You snort with laughter. "You're being weird, but okay."

As you stroll along to your destination, peering at the words carefully, Phainon gazes (read: stares) down at you, taking in every detail of your focused expression, the way your hair catches the wind, relishing the scent of perfume on your skin, still fresh before the sun can sear it away.

What are you thinking about the words he spent so long trying to piece together? Nothing he could say could fully encompass everything he felt for you... but still, he'd had to try.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

golfing incident

words: 1.3k

warnings: reader gets hurt (but its not bad), established relationship, fighting/arguing (but its not bad)

“whats wrong y/n?” topper asks, placing a cautious hand on your shoulder as you are sat slumped down on the passenger side of the golf cart, a frown cemented onto your face.

“i don’t wanna be here.” you complain. you usually don't mind golfing with rafe. he drives you around and you get to watch and spend time with him, but when you agreed this morning to go, you didn’t realize that the day would turn dreary, sky a light gray with rain clouds threatening to spill at any second.

“baby, we will play a short game and then i’ll take you home.” rafe says, sliding into the driver side. 

topper hops in the back before rafe takes off, trying to tune out your conversation, not wanting to be part of whatever argument is going on.

“i wanna go home now.” you whine.

“don't be bratty, come here.” rafe holds his arm out, and you duck under it to press yourself into his side, burying your face in his shoulder as he navigates the cart with one hand. you are happy and warm against him, but too quickly rafe arrives to the first hole and gets out of the cart.

you cross your arms as you watch him, not cheering like you usually do.

“honey, if you keep frowning like that you are gonna give yourself a headache.” rafe says after topper takes his shot.

“i already have a headache.” you say. its only starting to develop, but you can feel the headache taking over. “and it's from you forcing me out here.”

rafe sighs, driving to toppers ball. once he’s off the cart and lining up his shot, rafe pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “i love you babygirl.”

“whatever.” you roll your eyes, but can’t resist rafe, even when you’re upset at him. “i love you too.”

“you gonna be good for the rest of the holes, yeah?” rafe asks.

“can i sit on your lap and drive?”

rafe sighs, but nods, willing to agree to anything to make you happy while he finishes the game.

you are satisfied with being able to steer the cart around while rafe has his arms wrapped around your center, but when it starts to drizzle, your attitude is officially back.

“this is miserable.” you whine.

“two more holes and then we are done. do you want me to make you a hot chocolate when we get home?” rafe asks, leaning in to you as he watches topper take his first swing of the hole.

“yeah, with whipped cream though.”

“and marshmallows.” rafe knows exactly how you like it, giving you a kiss on the cheek before going to take his swing. he curses when a sudden gust of wind blows his ball astray towards a patch of trees.

“thank you mother nature.” you call out, making rafe glare at you.

“its like you want me to do bad.” he rolls his eyes, still pulling you onto his knee to let you steer him to his ball, topper hopping onto the back just in time for you to take off, wishing he would have told rafe he had plans instead of having to sit awkwardly through your fighting.

“i do want you to do bad, then maybe you will stop playing this stupid game.” you don’t really mean your words, and rafe knows that too, the weather has just got you pissy, and once he gets you home and warmed up, you will coyly apologize and give him lots of kisses to make up for it. 

you slide off rafes lap as he gets out to hit his ball. you rest your chin against your fist, watching disinterestedly as he swings, his arms stretching back before hitting the ball forward, sending it right into a tree trunk he meant to miss, causing the ball to come right towards you.

“ow!” you let out a shriek when the ball hits you in the head, right in your hairline.

“fuck, baby!” rafe shouts, running quickly back over to the cart where you are holding your head, tears already pouring down your cheeks. “are you okay?”

“it hurts!” you whine, blinking as tears continue to fall.

“im so sorry.” rafe pulls you onto his lap, this time facing him so that your chest is pressed up against his. “im so fucking sorry, baby.”

you sob into rafes shirt, keeping your hand pressed to your head as you cry, rafe attempting to soothe you by rubbing your back, but when he sees its no use, he shuffles you so he can drive to golf cart with your curled up into him.

rafe doesn’t even acknowledge topper, but he’s glad to silently slip away as rafe quickly carries you inside the country club.

“mr. cameron! what’s wrong?” one of the staff asks. 

“can you get me a bag of ice? golfing incident.” rafe explains, and you try to quiet your cries, not wanting to embarrass yourself anymore than you already have, but it really does hurt as your forehead throbs. “we will be in the private dining room.”

rafe carries you further into the club while the employee gets you something for your head. you enter a room you have never been in before, with a grand table set up in the center, but rafe moves to the side of the room, sitting down on the sofa facing the window.

“here you go, sir.” the worker hands rafe a bag of ice as well as a towel. “can i get you anything else?”

rafe whispers something to the staff member that you can’t make out over your sniffling. he nods and then leaves with the door swinging shut behind him, just you and rafe in the room.

“sit back baby, let me see.” rafe says, and you manage to straighten out your back. you bring your hand away from your head, placing it on rafes chest to help balance yourself instead.

“is it bad?” you question.

“no, its not too bad. just a little red. might have a bump.” rafes eyes are soft and sad as he looks over you. he gets the ice wrapped in the towel before pressing it to your head. you instantly sigh at the relief. “i really am sorry.”

“its okay, you didn't do it on purpose.” you say. “you’re not that good at golf.”

“hey.” rafe complains, but he smiles, glad that you’re feeling well enough to make jokes.

“but” you continue on. “it wouldn’t have happened if you wouldn’t have dragged me out here in the first place.” you give him a pointed look.

“okay, you’re right.” rafe concedes, glancing over your shoulder out the window as the skies open up, rain now pouring down. “it is miserable out.”

you are about to respond when the same staff member walks in. you smile at him kindly before burying your head in rafes shoulder, too embarrassed to make eye contact, but you can hear him place something down on the table next to the couch.

“thank you.” rafe says, reaching under your thighs to his pocket, pulling out his wallet and tipping the man. 

“thank you, mr. cameron.”

once he is gone you look up, seeing that rafe had requested a hot chocolate to be brought. “oh, rafey.” you smile, before realizing that they also brought a blanket to cover up with.

“here.” rafe shuffles you around so you can rest your ice pack against his shoulder, then your head against it that way your hands could be free to drink the hot chocolate. he drapes the blanket over both of your knees as you snuggle into his side again.

“maybe the country club isn’t so bad afterall.” you chime as you sip the warm liquid, looking out onto the beautiful sprawling green golf course as raindrops fall from the sky.

rafe smiles at you, placing his hand on your thigh underneath the blanket. “i’m glad you think so baby.”

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