#EXC-F

[ladysbike]

KTMジャパンがキャッシュバックキャンペーンを実施中。

https://www.l-bike.com/topics/42369/

[valkyrieres]

They're here :3 (a bit too pink bc I forgot to convert the file into cmyk but welp, it is what it is TvT)

I WANNA EAT THEM

[saraw4ters]

[advpulse]

An ADV Rider’s first foray into enduro riding turns into a trial by fire. Follow the link for details!

[bd61i9fnw]

i will never get tired of this

[salsflore]

sorry guys I AM NORMAL NOW !! but anyways dendro keqing is so fight-able (i know i’d lose but)

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹｡ i'll stay on this drive for as long as you'd like | fushiguro megumi

wc: 3.2k

summary: megumi knows you a lot better than you think.

contains: f!reader in mind but can be read as gn!reader, non-curse!au, college!au, established relationship, hurt/comfort.

a/n: some songs for the vibe: streetcar - daniel caesar, the movies - nightly, night drive - red velvet.

part: 1 | 2 | 3 series m.list: by your passenger seat

part of the in's and out's new year/birthday event | request prompt: acting like it’s okay when you know it’s too much 

sponsored by @ceroseis and @itskilau for the @ficsforgaza initiative. please check it out and support if you can!

It’s on the drive back from one of your friends’ graduation afterparty that Megumi can tell something’s off. 

The trees whizzing past your window begin to dwindle, commercial buildings replacing them bit by bit—a clear sign of your trip drawing further away from the party venue and closer to the bustling streets of home. 

He looks over to you every now and then, your back pressed against the black leather seats of his sedan. That spot is yours, adjusted and fitted to your liking; on most days, you settle into it comfortably, but tonight, you sit with unease. 

There’s a tightness around your shoulders that extends all the way down to your clenched fists, and if it still isn’t any obvious from that, it’s one look at how you bite down tensely on your jaw that gives you away completely. 

Are you cold? He wonders, then checks the AC. 

Spring has brought in warmer days, but the nights are unpredictable—

His brows furrow, one hand tightening around the steering wheel as he uses the other to increase the temperature slightly. Just in case. 

—you’re still wearing the microfleece jacket he brought to the afterparty. 

Only a few words have been exchanged between you two so far—which is not unusual. Car rides with you are typically silent, comfortable in that either of you can speak whenever you want; there’s never any pressure to fill in empty pauses and long stretches of nothingness. 

It’s always a shared look, maybe a touch; a joint experience in enjoying each other's company despite not doing much.

But, this quiet is different. Tense. One that’s riddled with feelings you seem to be hiding. 

Megumi can tell. 

You pick your nails from his periphery, your lower lip caught between your teeth as you focus on the road straight ahead. On your lap rests your phone, filled with songs queued up for CarPlay—a task you’ve made your own since marking your permanence in his passenger seat. 

A slow reverb plays as the accompaniment to your silence, and the song is familiar, one he knows full well exists in some of your vaguely named mood playlists. 

“Sometimes you just want to feel something, y’know?”

And Megumi thinks that’s all fine and good; Kugisaki’s called him ‘moody’ more than a few times. But he watches you now and he can’t even tell what you’re feeling exactly, just that you don’t feel okay.

He hears you take in a breath. 

In the years you’ve known each other, Megumi’s learned that you tell him most things, but only when you’re ready. It’s not a problem with him, it’s just your way of processing things—is how you explained it. 

Still, something about the way you’d gradually curled in on yourself and avoided most of the night’s conversations makes him feel worried. It gives him the sinking feeling that if he doesn’t ask about it now, you’ll let tonight play out like nothing’s wrong; you’ll sweep it under the rug and when he asks about it next time, you’ll dust it off like it never happened to begin with. 

Then he’ll never know.

And, that doesn’t sit well with him at all. 

His eyes glance over at the directions on his CarPlay. The breath he takes is crucial, inhaled with contemplation before it’s released with his decision. 

At the end of the song’s chorus, right before it changes key for the bridge, Megumi takes a detour. His palm lays flat on the wheel as he turns it to the left abruptly. An excuse waits at the tip of his tongue, ready to spill out for when you say—

“I think we were supposed to go straight…” your voice trails off, equal parts unsure and fragile. 

“Gojo-sensei wants me to check out a property,” he lies, straight through his teeth. It doesn’t sound too far off from a real possibility. 

“Oh,” you mumble, more resigned than usual as your fingers reach for the screen. “Do you want me to pin it?” 

“No need,” he pauses, eyes momentarily flitting over to your hand. 

The thought simmers for only a second before he reaches for your fingers with his own, interlacing them together and stroking your knuckles with his thumb; back and forth, gently.

It’s a habit he’s developed in well over the year that you’ve been together; a grounding sign of his affection that no longer flusters him as much as it used to. It means many things, but he hopes you can tell what he’s trying to say right now—

“I want you to tell me what you’re thinking,” as he rests your interlaced hands on your thigh.

The warmth on your lap causes you to look up, your lips curling up into a tight smile. 

His grip on the steering wheel tightens. 

Maybe you think it does the job, but Megumi knows you; he knows how you breathe when you’re anxious, knows the way your eyelashes flutter when you’re on the brink of tears. He knows when your smile isn’t any bit genuine, when it fails to reach your eyes and you turn away quickly as if to hide that fact. 

He clasps your hands together and squeezes. 

You hold your breath, turning your head to watch the view: city buildings reverting back to trees. 

It runs down the side of the road in an endless stream, along with time, and the unease that settles in his stomach when you don’t respond to his squeeze with familiar grip. 

He looks on ahead. 

Megumi has no idea where the fuck he’s driving to; the directions on his CarPlay constantly reroute him back to your neighborhood, but he’s taking every wrong turn and crossing every road he isn’t supposed to just to buy some more time to stay in this ride with you. 

“This is that new artist you’ve been talking about lately, right?” he attempts.

You only hum. 

The car slows for a red on the stoplight ahead, and he tells himself he’ll give you this time and wait until it ends. If after this, you’re still quiet—

It turns green. 

—”Is everything okay?” he makes sure to look at you when he asks. 

When your eyes meet his, he can already tell what front you’re about to play up. It’s painful when he watches your face shift into something else, eyes forcibly widening as your smile pulls tightly at your cheeks.

“Yep! Why wouldn’t it be?” 

He hates it. 

How can you pretend to sound happy in front of him, of all people, too? 

He turns away, eyes focusing back on the road. Your hand remains clasped in his, still unmoving; Megumi doesn’t know you like this—you’ve only ever squeezed back just as tightly, if not more, holding onto him all the way home. 

The furrow between his brows deepens as his finger taps lightly on the wheel. Restless. 

He allows the silence to stretch on.

.

A few more minutes find him driving past missed turns and wrong roundabouts, the scenery around you transforming into empty fields of tall grass dimly lit by lampposts. The lights fade in and out on repeat, casting itself as hazy, muddled hues upon your face.

Megumi glances from time-to-time, catching your reflection on the window of his passenger seat. 

The expression on your face remains tight, pulled together in an effort to keep it together. And Megumi isn’t typically one to pry, nor is he the type to outright intervene with what others are going through—

But, he just wants you to tell him what’s wrong. 

The feeling scratches at him, a quiet torture as it turns him impatient. He can only grind his teeth. 

Your songs continue to play as he drives down empty roads, each one turning sadder than the last. And he wonders for a moment when it’ll end; if listening to these songs for long enough will make you feel any better—enough at least, for you to begin to open up. 

In the midst of his rumination, you move, angling yourself away from him ever so slightly as you reach up to run your fingers through your hair, microfleece sleeve brushing against your cheeks lightly. 

You don’t think he sees you, he’s sure, but he spots you on your reflection—

The window of his passenger seat is pitch black, already heavily tinted on its own, but exacerbated more by the darkness of the evening outside. It lends itself as the perfect blank slate to return any image that light casts upon it. Tonight, its subject happens to be you.

—with tears streaming down your face. 

And it makes his chest ache, heart sinking straight to his stomach. 

The breath you take is heartbreakingly still, a staggered inhale that is so careful and so considerate of the fact that you don’t want him to hear it hitch. Your lips are trembling, bitten down to keep in any sob that might spill out. 

Megumi hates this the most, he’s decided. 

He clenches his jaw. 

Just a few meters ahead is a clearing lit up by another lamppost. The road is vacant enough for him to pull the car over to the side, still leaving room for other cars to pass by. 

So he decides.

Pushing the hazard button and signaling to turn, Megumi slows the car down to a stop. You wipe at your face quickly when you notice, trying discreetly to fix yourself up before facing him. 

“Did something happen?”

Your sniffle slips. 

He doesn’t say anything, shifting the gear into park as he leans back on his seat. The leather squeaks under his movement, each noise amplified now that the car is completely still.

Megumi takes a deep breath.

“Nothing happened,” he starts, considering his next actions very carefully as he turns to face you. 

His fingers reach up slowly, gently wiping at the tips of your eyelashes; your tears glisten at its tips. 

Something in your expression shifts, the front you put up gradually turning into guilt. 

(He knows; he’s noticed you this entire night.) 

Time stops for Megumi in moments you never know: when you laugh, and your cheeks lift life to your eyes; when you hold him, by hand or by heart—he can’t tell the difference sometimes; when you tell him you love him, whether whispered against his collarbone or spoken through your lips locked in his.

You look pretty in all of them, you always do; even now, drowning in the fabric of his clothes with strands of your hair kissing your nose. 

It’s enough to already make his chest hurt. 

But then your tears begin to spill over, rushing down in streams over your cheeks, and he can’t put a name to this feeling—this immense pressure that sinks down to his stomach, twisting and aching. It’s worse than what he felt moments ago. 

His thumbs press themselves to the dampness under your eyes, wiping away where he can as he cradles the rest of your face. 

Megumi is the last person anyone would ever call to handle tears, but his body moves on its own when it leans towards you. It feels natural, right, when his lips rest softly against your forehead, fingers slotting themselves around your ears. 

Your hands hold onto his wrists firmly, as if grounding yourself. 

“Please tell me what’s wrong.” 

He adjusts himself, quickly releasing his seatbelt to lean over the center console. It’s awkward and uncomfortable, and—

(It’s hard, you want to tell him. Nothing ever seems enough sometimes.) 

You tuck your face in the crook of his neck, your arms hooking themselves around his back and onto his shoulders. 

“Did I–” he starts, unsure, as he brings a hand up to cradle the back of your head, “Is it it me?” 

You shake your head. 

(Of course, it isn’t. How can it be?)

“I don’t know what to do, Megumi,” you mumble, choked up as you inch away from him to rub at your eyes. 

He waits for you to continue.

“We just graduated,” your fingers grip at your pants, “I should be happy, and I am, but,” you hiccup, “everyone has all these plans and big dreams and,” a deep breath, “I don’t even know what I want to do.” 

(Your tears soak through your speech, punctuating them in drenched uncertainty.

Everything throbs, a heavy thumping beating in your head. The only thing that cuts through is the familiar ‘click’ of the door unlocking, Megumi’s hand on the handle as you turn towards him curiously.) 

“Let’s step outside,” he directs, his door already half-open. 

When you move to follow suit, he turns off the engine before stepping outside.

The crisp air of spring is sharper in the evening, littering goosebumps down the sides of his arms. A breeze picks up and brushes against his ears, but being near you, in any capacity, has always been enough to make his insides feel warm. 

He circles around the front of the car to get to your side, pausing a few steps in front of you, as if asking for permission. 

You take a step and then another, tears welling up as you inch closer for a hug. 

“I don’t know,” you admit, voice small as you slack in his hold. He tucks you under his chin, hand cradling the back of your head again. “I always thought I’d figure it out eventually,” you continue, “but we’re here and I haven’t, and…” 

Your grip on him tightens.

“Did anyone trigger this earlier?” he asks softly, his finger rubbing against the nape of your neck. 

(That’s the problem, though—there isn’t anyone in particular. You know Megumi is asking so he can steer you clear of any future interactions with said person, but that’s not the case; it’s all you and the things you’ve overheard. All you and the things you see on your social media feed—an insecurity that drowns out anything else around you. 

People often mean well when they ask what you’re up to, but your response always leaves a bitter, acrid aftertaste when you feel like you can never give them an honest answer.) 

You shake your head, digging your face deeper into his neck. Your lips tickle his skin when you speak, “Just overheard stuff.”

Megumi sighs, holding you closer. 

He blinks once, taking in the clear open fields and the endless road ahead. Up above, stars splatter white against the sky, and if he listens closely, he’ll hear the faintest hiss of the springtime breeze. 

“It’s all just… noise,” he mumbles, lips pressing on the crown of your head. “You always tell me…” in the depths of his mind he fishes for a memory as proof,  “everything else is just noise when you have me and good music with you.” 

He feels shy recounting it word-by-word, heat rising to his cheeks; but Megumi has never been good at comfort, and this is his honest attempt at that. 

You chuckle sadly, a little watery as you reply, “It’ll just be me and the music when you leave though.” 

And even though this is your honest attempt at taking the situation lightly, the statement hits him square in the chest with its gravity.  

He hums and chooses to linger with you in the quiet, the occasional wisps of wind whizzing in the background. 

There’s not a lot Megumi can say that’ll make any of his statements valid, because all his plans have been laid out since his third year in uni: work his way through his course (which he did, in flying colors, actually), bag an internship (which he also did, for an extended contract too), and eventually land a job offer (which he also just did, a few days ago for a company in Kyoto). 

But, there is one thing he knows he can say with utmost certainty:  

“We’ll figure it out together.” 

Your head whips up quickly, brows furrowing as you give him a look. 

(If it’s what you think he’s implying, you won’t allow it. He has to—)

“...’ll still go. You’ll kill me if I don’t.” he huffs, leaning back to get a better look at you.

You look confused. 

(Megumi staying behind in Tokyo isn’t even an option for you; not when he has an attractive offer waiting for him in Kyoto, and most especially not when the only reason he’d be staying is because of you.

You’d been the one who encouraged him to apply and you promised yourself that you’d continue to support him all the way through. The fact that he’s leaving is sad, but you’ll never forgive yourself if you end up being the reason he’s held back from something so good.)

“I’ll visit,” he tucks your hair behind your ear, “or you can stay with me whenever you want while we figure something out for you.” 

“You can lean on me.” 

(His eyes meet yours sincerely, deep blue speckled with street-lit hues. It’s honest, and he only means to reassure you, but something inside you is saying—)

“You’re not… you’re not a failure, or a disappointment, or whatever, just because you’re having a hard time figuring it out by yourself.” he continues to speak, finding the right words as his hands fall down to press on your waist. “It’s why I’m here.” 

(—you should still feel bad. Your life is your responsibility, and Megumi shouldn’t be the one holding onto all the pieces when you’re struggling to get it together. And yet—)

When you open your mouth to rebut, Megumi, somehow, already knows what you’re about to say. 

“It’s not baggage, and even if you insist it is,” he pauses, as if working a way to verbalize how he feels. His eyes hold yours in this moment, tears welling up along your lash line; there is a weight to what he’s about to reveal. 

He takes a breath, swallowing. 

“I want to take it on with you.” 

Your tears fall and Megumi catches them, his thumbs gently pressing against your cheeks. 

(There are a lot more thoughts racing through your mind, but for now you focus on the peace he offers you. Megumi is rarely verbal with his feelings, so hearing him be so open like this means more to you than anything.)

“Okay,” you rest your forehead against his collarbone. 

Megumi pulls you closer as you both stand by his car, his arms a steady stronghold that grounds you. He gives you a few more moments of quiet until he feels ready to ask, “Are you ready to head home?”

You lift your face from his chest, eyes puffed up and a little dry. Your hand searches for his, interlacing your fingers together when you find it resting against the small of your back. 

“Can we drive for a little bit longer?”

He nods and his lips curl up into a smile, small and knowing as he opens the car door. 

But before you go back in, his hands take hold of yours, rubbing them gently to heat them from the cold. He brings your fingertips up to his lips, the display of affection rendering him pink, still (to you, the look on his face never gets old); he kisses them lightly before he lets go, walking to his side of the car so he can stay on this drive for as long as you’d like, until you’re ready to go home. 

a/n: i hope you enjoyed! thank you so much for reading 🥺 writing this was deeply personal, and writing megs will always be one of my favourite things 🥺

thank you notes: @pastelle-rabbit for thinking about drive megs with me and sending me songs! 🥺 + @ceroseis @mieiri for everything always 🥺

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[aemondsbabe]

Ñuha Zaldrīzes

summary: future & facesitting || discussing wishes for your baby with your husband turns into something more

pairing: daemon targaryen x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, pregnant reader, oral sex (f receiving), allusions to piv sex, dirty talk, daemon being soft and loving we love to see it, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 1.8k

a/n: happy day eight of 12 days of smuff!!! surely this counts as future otherwise i'd have them fucking in a spaceship & that just didn't sit right with me

12 days of smuff masterlist!

gif creds to @pedropcl

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

A soft giggle bursts from your lips as Daemon’s hand skirts over your large belly yet again, his soft touches tickling your skin as his hand ghosts lovingly over your bump, the delicate lacy fabric of your nightgown bunched around his wrist. 

“Okay, okay, so,” you say breathily, finally calming down as his touch seems to settle on your hip, “If it’s a little girl, perhaps Vaenera? And for a little boy… Vaenor?” You suggest, your breath warm against the prince’s neck as you rest your cheek against his shoulder, tucked safely into his side atop your silk covered bed. 

“I still think we should name her Visenya,” the blond drawls, tracing soothing patterns into your hip as he holds you against him, “With a nice strong name like that, she will grow to greatness.” 

You stay silent for a moment, your eyes locked onto the fluid movements of the sheer curtains that lead out onto the balcony, watching as they blow in the breeze carried in by the Narrow Sea. Daemon can’t help but notice you still against him and he smiles softly when he sees that familiar, far off look in your eyes – always his dreamer.

“Where did you go?” He asks gently, all traces of the usual brash, cocky tone with which he speaks gone. 

“Nowhere,” you smile, tilting your head up to peer at him through your lashes, “I was merely thinking of what kind of person this little one will grow up to be.” You stroke a hand over your belly as you speak, your smile only growing as you feel a soft, barely there kick against your palm. 

“If they’re even half as kind and gentle as their mother, the world will be a much better place with them in it,” your husband whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. A pink blush blooms across the apples of your cheeks, as it always does when he speaks so tenderly. 

“And if they’re half as hard headed as their father, well… somehow, I will love them all the more,” you whisper, laughing yet again as Daemon trails his fingers over your side, tickling you purposefully this time.

“Me, hard headed?” He teases, laughing along with you, “I’m not the one that nearly sent the kitchens into a tailspin this evening when they demanded duck, now am I?” His violet eyes sparkled in the low light of the candles that flickered around the room, a teasing smirk etched across his face.

“That’s very unfair!” You giggle, leaning up to properly look at him. “You know how I am when I’m with child,” you huff, your blush only deepening when you see his eyes darken just slightly as his gaze flits over you, “Especially once it’s this far along; all I want is roast duck and–”

“And lemon cakes at every meal,” Daemon finishes for you, softly smiling, “Yes, sweetling, the entire castle is most aware.” He chuckles. 

“Then the kitchens should know to have duck, that’s all I’m saying…” You grumble, sinking back down into his embrace. The two of you relax into a comfortable silence for many minutes, your husband’s breathing so steady and calm that you assume he’s fallen asleep. When he speaks again, his soft voice almost startles you.

“The kitchens did particularly well with the lemon cakes this evening…”

Your eyebrows furrow together at the statement and you lift your head again, meaning to give him a confused stare. The cakes were exceptionally good this evening, but you can’t help but notice the teasing lilt in his voice.

You open your mouth to speak, but the darkness in Daemon’s eyes gives you pause, a breathy, barely audible whimper escaping your lips before you have a chance to stop it.

“However, I can’t help but be in the mood for a much different type of dessert, little wife.” He says lowly, gently pulling you up until your faces are level, careful to be ever conscious of your growing stomach. 

“Daemon –” You start, only to be cut off with a searing kiss as he presses his lips to yours. You whimper against his lips, your head already spinning in his embrace as his tongue toys with yours.

“It’s been so long,” he starts, trailing kisses down your jaw and neck, nibbling at one spot that always has you seeing stars, “Since you’ve let me have what I want.”

“H-Husband,” you gasp breathlessly, your nails digging helplessly into his chest as you cling to him, “You had me just this, Gods, this morning for breakfast, if you’ll recall.” You managed to say between whimpers and gasps as he practically feasted on the sensitive spot on your neck, his hands softly kneading and caressing your breasts. 

He makes a small, displeased hum before he pulls back to look at you, his dark eyes studying you carefully before a small smirk grows on his lips, “You know very well that’s not what I’m after.”

Your eyes widen just slightly as you finally catch his meaning; you shake your head with a small chuckle. “Surely you can’t be serious,” your smile fades as he holds your stare with a small, unchanging smirk, “Daemon, I’ll crush you!”

“And what an honorable death that would be, sweet wife,” he chuckles, his hands firmly grasping your hips as he lifts you up and onto his lap, your head spins as you feel his already hard length pressing against you through the thin linen breeches he has on, “I’ll be fine, it’s not as if this is exactly new territory for us…” He teases, gently skirting his hands over your belly. 

“We’ve never done it when I’ve been… like this, though,” you shyly point out, looking down at your bump. 

“Do you really not see how insatiable I become every time you’re with child?” Daemon asks, his voice soft and gentle, “I will only ever have you like this a scant few times. Please, sweetling, let me savor it.”

Biting your lip, you gaze down at him, eyes trailing across his bare chest and shoulders and up the strong column of his neck before they finally settle on his face – the look in his eyes nearly making you gasp. His violet eyes are fixed on you, roaming over your body with so much love and adoration that you feel as if you may melt from it. 

Before you even register the movement, you’re nodding. 

Daemon’s eyes instantly flick up to yours, sparkling with victory. His hands grip your hips again, gently guiding you up his muscular form as he silently thanks the Seven that you wear nothing beneath your Myrish lace nightgowns. A loud groan practically bursts from the prince’s chest once you’re positioned over his face; he loves being surrounded by you — loves the way your soft thighs bracket his head, the way you position your dripping center perfectly over his mouth, and the way the only thing he sees when he looks up is your belly, swollen with his seed, his child. 

If it were up to Daemon, he would happily spend the rest of his days here. 

Your chest heaves as you grip the headboard of the bed, your heart hammering in your chest from the anticipation of it. You whimper softly as his hands, rough from so many years of sword fighting and dragon riding, grab at your thighs and hips. 

He presses soft, sweet kisses to the inside of your thighs before licking a slow, steady line up your center; you can feel him smirk triumphantly against you as moans and whimpers spill from your lips. 

“Oh, Gods, Daemon!” You gasp, voice already ragged as you white-knuckle the headboard. Your thighs tremble with the effort of holding yourself even a fraction of an inch above your husband’s face, something he notices quite quickly. A displeased growl rumbles from his chest, making you pant as it vibrates against your core.

“Fucking sit,” Daemon rasps, tugging you against his mouth, his tongue roughly spearing into you as he grinds your pearl against his nose, hands moving your hips against his face. 

Your mind all but whites out as he rocks you against him, nose and tongue working in perfect tandem to send shivers down your spine. Your eyes squeeze shut, frantic moans pouring from your mouth as a fire steadily builds within you. 

“H-Husband,” you pant, walls clenching tightly around his tongue as he groans into your heat, “I— Fuck, I’m—!” You can hardly get the words out as Daemon seals his lips around your sensitive bud, suckling it at a maddening pace as his hands move down to cup your ass, kneading it roughly. 

Your face flushes at the slick sounds pouring from between your thighs as the prince growls against you, sounding as if he’s gaining as much satisfaction as you are. Your core clenches at the thought, pleasure threatening to consume you. 

“Daemon!” You cry urgently, shaking above him, a thin sheen of sweat covering your body. You want so badly to thread your fingers through his hair as you normally would, but you can’t even see his face around your protruding belly. 

He groans loudly beneath you once more and fucks his tongue back into you, causing the knot in your belly to pull tightly before finally unraveling. Sparks burst behind your eyelids, your back arching as your whole body tenses and relaxes in time with his movements. 

The prince moans appreciatively, messily drinking down your pleasure as you peak on top of him. You jump when one of his hands smacks against your ass, the tingling sting extending your release, the intensity of it nearly making you go mad. 

Finally, once your signs of relief have turned into whimpers of overstimulation, Daemon releases you with a pleased hum, helping you shuffle back down his body until you’re straddling his hips once again. 

You laugh softly at the sight of him — his cheeks flushed a light pink, hair sticking up at odd angles, and a pleased, self-satisfied grin on his face. 

“You look as if you were the one who was ravished, my dragon,” you tease, your heart rate slowly returning to normal as you trace over the muscular dips in his chest and stomach.

The prince chuckles lowly, his violet eyes still dark with lust as he takes in your curves. “Ravishing you is a pleasure in and of itself, sweet wife,” he drawls, smirking as you gasp at the feel of his cock against your sensitive core as he rolls his hips against you, “I trust you’ll allow me to feel it again?” He asks, that all too familiar cocky tone back, as if asking is merely a formality. 

Sighing happily, you bite your lip as you stare down at him, the knot in your belly beginning to tighten again as you feel his length pressing hotly to you. 

“I believe that can be arranged.”

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @alerisc @fan-goddess @wickedfrsgrl @moonriseoverkyoto @echos-muses @schniiipsel @avidreader73 @marvelescvpe @imawhorecrux

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[hanjisunglover]

pairing: boyfriend!Han Jisung x reader genre: smut warnings: oral receiving (f), pet names (sweetheart, good girl, love, pretty girl, exc..), eat cumming, biting kink, soft Dom!jisung, sub!reader.

from everything that jisung likes about you, your thighs are his favourite part. he doesn't care if they are thicker than his, or the way that they are just squeeze in your jeans, even better.

I know for sure that jisung was staring at them at the first date that you wear that jeans that just fit your waist perfectly but squeeze your thighs a little bit more than usual. but of course, he didn't say anything.

and then when the dates started to be sleepovers, it was about time. "may I ask you something y/n?" his voice arrive at your ears softly, like that inside him he's not ready to really ask you about this.

you move your gaze to his, finishing to fix your shirt, pulling it more down on your thighs, trying to cover them as much as possible, "you don't have to if you don't feel about that."

"shut - please. can, can I lay between your thighs?" You knew that was coming, the long stares at your legs during the dates, the casually caress on your thighs, that was pretty clear but you were too coward to ask for more. because you want more. "you want what?"

Jisung sigh. "can, can I lay between your thighs?" his eyes are on you, just looking carefully at your movements, the small change of position would make him go crazy, and then you just spread your thighs, to make room for him in the middle. You never had someone that loves your thighs as he does, never had a boyfriend to be honest, he was the first for everything.

With his brown doe eyes he just put himself between your thighs, his head on your stomach, your thighs on his shoulders and his hands start to massage it. That's it. you think, that's it.

You knows where this is gonna take, but you can't just stop yourself from stroking his black hair, his features relax under your touch, the whole room get quiet for a bit. But you can feel your cunt start to pulse for the feeling of having him this close of your pussy that makes you squeeze his head lightly. Jisung bite your inner thigh playfully, "what's wrong sweetheart?"

Moans leaves your mouth as he bites your thigh, the boy look up at you with his chubby red cheeks, "ugh, jisung it's hard when you are, right there."

"right where? — oh." As Jisung turn to look better at you his nose can smell your excitement, it's clear and strong, his arms slowly hugs your thighs, "do you want me to, do something for you love?"

You starts to whine, nodding and hoping that he's gonna do something and quick, because you can just can't keep it quiet. "yes please."

His big smile slowly get hide when his face get closer to your inner thigh, he start to leave slowly kisses, just some pecks in the area that he bites before, "fuck, saying please like a good girl, makes me hard."

You chuckles but then suddenly your breath catch your throat when his nose press against your panties, making your mind start to feel dizzy about it, "shit."

"na-ah babe, no bad words, you're too pure for that," jisung laugh quietly as he grab with his hands the sides of your panties, ready to take them off straight away. Your hand slowly reach down between your legs, moving aside your panties, showing your pussy to him, "I don't have enough patient for teasing Jisung, please."

Jisung cover his face a little with one hand as his cheeks get reddish, but he nod, moving your legs spread for him, "so impatient."

"yes I am, — just please."

"please what?" you groan feeling tears in your eyes for how badly you want him, and he notice, starting to stroke your thighs with his hands, leaving a light kiss on your clit, "I was just play around love, I'm gonna take good care of you." Jisung stick out his tongue, taking a slow taste of your excitement.

He moan softly of pleasure, he's not even touching himself, but your cunt it's making him already loosing it, "tasting amazing, amazing pussy for me," he murmurs as he close his eyes. He looks like a thirsty man, drinking from your hole as he never taste something that good.

Your hands between his hair, grabbing them and pulling them lightly when he touches the most sensitive spots around your clit, you can tell that the fact that he's a rapper and he can hold his breath for longer time that the others, works good on this. He just can't get enough, his tongue moves back and forward from your clit to your hole, his breath gets heavier.

"please cum in my tongue, wants everything you can give me," he mumble totally focus on his action, you gets shivers all over your body for his soft but firm licks. Jisung looks like he just want to do this for hours if you give him the chance to.

"fuck — sorry, baby, baby please I'm, 'm so close.." His tongue start to create circles around your clit, sucking it gently as he squeeze your thighs closer to his face, you follows his movements, squeezing your thighs around his face, making him moan against your cunt and you just can moan louder for the intensity.

Your legs start to shake a little, arching your back and all you can think it's jisung's skills in your pussy. Jisung suddenly open his eyes, for the first time since what feels for you hours of eating you out. He wants to see your expression when you cum on his face.

Closing your eyes, moving your head back as you give a last higher moan before cumming on his tongue, his mouth open as he's pulling your hips closer on his face, his eyes rolls at the taste of you. Too good to be true for him.

He move his tongue against your hole for the last time before moving back just enough to be away from your cunt, you're breathless as you look down at him, stroking his cheek with one of your hand, smiling weakly from the intense passion. "thank you ji." He let his head rest on your thigh, stroking your hips gently as he breath heavily.

"you're such a pretty girl, next time you're sitting in my face." Jisung says with such a cheeky smile, biting your inner thigh with a giggle, you moan contrary as you squeeze his head again with your thighs, "stop biting!"

"tasting too good to not do it."

author note: I just love jisung pussy drunk + thighs lover that was a need 🙏🏻🙏🏻

@imastraykidsfan

[ladysbike]

現在実施されている“TIME TO RIDE A KTM”キャンペーンは、対象モデルの新車成約時にクレジット金利0％(最大支払回数60回まで)とモデル別特別サポートが合わせて提供されるという新車購入を考えている人にはかなり魅力的な内容となっている。

https://www.l-bike.com/topics/42116/

[lunajay33]

Just Us🩶Part.5

Summary: In a world full of walkers y/n was able to escape with her best friend, but maybe that friendship turns into something more

Pairing: Carl Grimes x f!reader

A/n: This story starts when the group is on the road after Terminus but I’m gonna make y/n and Carl 18 just to speed along the story!! This is also my first Carl Grimes series! This story includes 18+ scenes, pregnancy and more

Part.4

•Masterlist•

After finding out I was pregnant yesterday I’ve been nothing but uneasy and a sense of panic, Carl on the other hand was rainbows and sunshine, last night he feel asleep with his head on my hip talking to my belly it was cute but that’s not where my head state was at

I was up in bed as Carl was out helping around the community as it was later in the day around noon, Carl had brought us breakfast in bed saying I should rest but I was glad because I didn’t have the motivation or mental energy to get up and face the others

There was a knock on my door and in came Daryl closing the door behind him as he leaned against it

“Hey, ya doin alright” he asked with his gruff voice

“I don’t know, I’m just worried but Carl is so excited, I’m scared I won’t be a good mother or that I won’t even be able to be a mother” I said as the panic grew stronger

He crossed the room and sat next to me

“Hey yer gonna be fine, I’m scared too but we’re safe now and I ain’t gonna let nothin happen to ya”

“Thanks Daryl” I said leaning my head on his shoulder

I was sitting on the porch as the sun was lowering in the sky, a plate of strawberries in my lap that Daryl got me before he left on a run, our little talk earlier had calmed my nerves a bit and now I just wanted to see Carl now

As if my thoughts were heard he rounded the street and once he saw me picked up his pace soon sitting right next to me

“Hey baby I missed you today” he said wrapping his arm around my waist, pulling me close and kissing my cheek

“I missed you too, what did you do today?” I asked looking at the bag he had in his hand

“Oh Maggie and I were cleaning up one of the houses and we found some things” he opened the bag pulling out a pink and blue stripped baby onesie, some baby bottles, a little yellow beanie and another onesie that matched

“Oh Carl I love them, they’re so cute, I love you Carl and this baby is so lucky to have you as their dad” I said taking his jaw and pulling him into a passionate kiss feeling my hormones work up again

“Woah baby calm down I don’t know if we should go there just yet, not until we know it’s safe from Denise” he said brushing my hair back

“Ugh fine but before that we need to come clean to Rick and Michonne I can’t keep this in much longer, maybe have Maggie and Glenn there too”

“Maggie said her and Glenn are coming over tonight for supper seems like the best time plus we will have Daryl there to help if dad gets crazy”

“Ya well let’s hope it doesn’t get to that”

Everyone was home now as we all worked on setting up the table, mixing the salad, Rick cooking steak from a cow we found, just waiting on Glenn and Maggie to walk through the door

“Hey you ready” Carl asked as he wrapped his arms around me from behind

“Yes as long as I have you by my side” he leaned my head back and gave me a gentle kiss when we heard the front door open and in they came

We all settled at the table, Rick at the head Michonne at the other, Carl was sat next to me with Daryl across from us, Maggie next to Carl and Glenn next to Daryl, we picked up our food and started eating when I felt Daryl nudge my leg under the table leaning his head towards Rick

I set my fork down and held carls hand as I cleared my throat catching everyone attention

“So ummmm…..me and Carl have something to tell you all” I said feeling my heart pound looking at Carl for him to continue for me

“We only found out yesterday and we know we’re young but, y/ns pregnant” the room was eerily quiet nobody said a thing and just looked at us except for Daryl

Rick dropped his fork hearing it cling against his plate

“Are you kidding me, what did I tell you both” he said with anger in his voice

“I’m sorry we didn’t mean to it just kind of…..happened”

“This is your fault y/n Carl was fine before you got together and now we’re gonna have to deal another baby and you might not even be there to help” my heart sank as he said all my fears

“Rick that’s enough” Michonne glared as Daryl was also

“We know it’s not ideal but I’m happy to have a baby with the girl I love most in this world” Carl said as he wiped my tears away that I didn’t even know had fallen

“I’m sorry” I said getting up and going down to my room

Carls POV

“Come on dad why would you be so hard on her it’s not her fault and we aren’t kids” I said feeling extremely angry and protective

“Rick she’s scared and you just confirmed her fears, she needs us, she ain’t got parents we’re all she’s got” Daryl said moving food around on his plate

Dad got up and left out the front door Michonne following quickly after him

“Congrats Carl, you’re going to be a great dad” Maggie said smiling from next to me

“Thanks Maggie”

“The best thing you can do for her is support her we know how much you both love eachother and it’s crazy to see you both grow having watch you be kids together but this kids gonna have the best parents” Glenn said lightening my mood

“Plus a baby between you and her it’s gonna be adorable” Maggie giggled obviously excited for us

Normal POV

I laid on the bed feeling my heart shrivel and the tears fall quickly

“Oh baby please don’t cry” I jumped sitting up not realizing Carl came in

“He’s right Carl I thought we could be okay but have I ruined us have I made your life worse?”

“What no never, I’ve told you baby you’re my world you’re the reason I wake up everyday and the reason I look forward to a better day and a happier life, you gave me a reason to love and this baby is gonna have such a strong,caring and beautiful mother, please don’t stop fighting” he said as his own tears fell as he rubbed my arms

“Okay Carl I’ll be stronger…….we’re gonna have a baby” I said finally feeling happy about it

“We’re gonna have a baby” Carl said smiling as he tackled me down to the bed and held me close

Taglist: @carlsdarling @eiirqgi

[saraw4ters]

[crowandmousewritingco]

Pairing: Frankie Morales x gn!reader

Word Count: 760

Rating: R (18+ MDNI)

Summary: Frankie gets frustrated. You give him motivation.

Author: Mod Mouse

Warnings: Cock warming, general horniness. This is a 18+ fics so MDNI.

“Benny you gotta watch my six!” Frankie yells as he weaves his way through the map. “Fuck!” The enemy shot the last squad member, sending them back to the loading screen. This was the third time that his group died before the loot drop, and you could tell Frankie was starting to get frustrated at his long time friend. The way he adjusted his hat with a little more force then more and his finger slammed against the keys made even your own fingers hurt.  

You look up from your shared bed at your boyfriend. This was your nightly routine. Frankie would play whatever video game with the boys and you would occupy yourself with whatever craft. Frankie tended to get a little passionate when it came to his video games to the point of sometimes working himself up. This was one of those times. 

A thought came into your head and you smirked. As silently as you could you slipped off the bed. Frankie was too enthralled with the trash talking as you shimmied off the sweatpants you were wearing letting them drop to the floor. With another swift movement, Frankie’s sweatshirt that you always stole joined the pile. 

“Okay this time you have to watch out for that tank,” Frankie added as the pregame selection popped up. 

As he was choosing his character you tapped his shoulder with an overexertion. “What is it–” He begins swiveling his chair to see you, but was then when he realized that you were naked. Chest scars and thick thighs graced his view and you gave him a small wave. 

“What did you say?” You could hear Benny ask as you pressed your finger to your lips indicating Frankie to not say a word. 

Frankie’s eyes widened when you sexily bent at the hips and gently slid your hand down his chest. Brown puppy dog eyes begged for an explanation, but you continued winking at him as your hand found its ways under the waistband of his pjs. 

He took a sharp intake as he felt your fingertips brush the top of his cock causing a sharp twitch inside his pants. You covered your mouth with the other hand to cover up your giggles as your fingers brushed the top of his dick tracing the soft veins that adorned it. 

“Hey Frankie, what are you doing?” Benny asked as the round started up. 

Frantically Frankie went back to his keyboard as he started playing again. But that didn’t deter you. Slowly you pulled his cock out pumping it up and down now that it was free from its confines. The movement sent Frankie’s shot wide and he cursed under his breath. A quick side eye from you indicated he was irritated, but the blush on his cheeks meant he wasn’t that mad. 

After a few more agonizingly slow pumps you let go of his now hard cock. He bit his lip to keep himself from whimpering, but a swift kiss to the cheek reassured him. “B-Benny on your left,” He called out as you gently straddled his gaming chair. 

He looked up at you briefly before watching his screen over your shoulder. You once again took his cock in your hands rubbing the head with your thumb. “F-Fuck,” He moaned but quickly shut up when he realized what happened. 

“Frankie, did you see them,” Benny asked after a pause. 

“Um ya they went that way,” Frankie answered as you aligned yourself and slowly lowered yourself down until he was fully inside you. 

“But they were just there,” Benny answered. Frankie quickly covered his mouth with his hand keeping his moan inside of his mouth. 

You leaned down and whispered into Frankie’s ear. “If you win this round, then you can take the real prize.” 

That was enough motivation for Frankie. As if a switch was flipped, Frankie started getting head shot after head shot, sending their team rocketing into first place where they stayed for the whole round. You could hear Benny celebrating in the background, and Frankie raised his hands into the air in excitement. 

Frankie celebrated for a bit before saying, “Okay Benny that’ll be it for me tonight.” His hands rested on your ass giving it a squeeze. You had to cover your mouth so your squeak wouldn’t come through. You glanced down at Frankie who smiled with the hint of lust in his eyes. 

“Okay catfish. Have fun taking your reward,” Benny teased as you both blushed at the realization. Tonight was definitely going to be something else.

```````

All Works Taglist

@for-a-longlongtime @romanarose

Pedro Character Taglist

@littlemisspascal @burntheedges

@carusolikey @thebeldroramscal

@morallyinept @lady-bess

@pedrostories @rivnedell

@pascalsanctuary @readingiskeepingmegoing

@jessthebaker

Credit: @inklore

[idolatrybarbie]

pairing: marcus pike x fem!reader

word count & rating: 5.4k | explicit - 18+ minor free zone!

summary: it's not stalking if it's a casual curiosity. you would never do anything...you're just nosey. lonely, too, maybe. but that isn't your fault. yes—this is fine. only stalking if he notices. so what exactly happens when he does?

warnings: social isolation, touch starvation, marcus pike is a virgin (there is no virgin-shaming here - do not fear), alcohol, themes of alienation, allusions to failed relationships, everyone in this story is very normal, smut - kissing, loss of virginity, vaginal fingering, handjob, protected penetrative vaginal sex(!!!), premature ejaculation, body worship (with mouth), exhibitionism, implied male masturbation, vaginal fingering, very enthusiastic oral sex (f receiving), cum eating, cuddling.

notes: i was depressed and am sick (again) but yesterday was a really good day, so you get a fic. @wannab-urs wanted to see virgin marcus - here he is. this slowly and subtly became a little more kinky than i intended it to lol? my own cat makes an appearance and yes he is really that old. this is also my 400th post to this blog. woohoo, enjoy! :)

He’s your neighbour. Kind of cute. Okay, lie—very cute. You don’t have much on him otherwise. He moved in about three months ago, right at summer’s end. At first, you thought he was a student. You see him around the house and the neighbourhood during weekdays, so that rules out a college schedule.

He likes to read books in the park. Thick novels with colourful covers and lengthy titles. You would think that he’s showing off, peacocking with the way that he’s got a new book in his hands every week. But no, the reading isn’t for show. He moulds them to his liking, dogears the pages and folds over paperbacks; things someone doesn’t do when they’ve got a book in their hands as a lure, a line.

Surprisingly, he seems to be single. You aren’t exactly sure why. There’s no short supply of wealthy single moms in the area, and the man himself is truly gorgeous. Maybe he’s recently divorced, or gay. Maybe it’s his mom’s old house and she’s passed, and he’s only here to settle things up before skipping town again.

You find yourself watching his windows at night, never able to catch a glimpse of him. The house glows orange with the lights still on inside—a welcoming lighthouse in the cold and murky sea of suburbia. When you start thinking like that, watching his house for more than too long, you send yourself to bed. The very last thing you want to be is the obsessed stalker across the street.

A part of you can’t help it. Your other neighbours, despite barely knowing them, don’t seem to like you very much. You have a feeling a certain washing-your-car-in-a-bikini-top incident at the end of this year’s boiling hot August might have something to do with it. With no friends to speak of in this cookie cutter county, you find yourself lonely. When you don’t think about it too hard, that’s justification enough.

This morning, you wake up before the sun. Sparing your eyes the bright glare of house lights, you use a near-dead flashlight to see down the hall. The cat in your care this week lives on a strict schedule. At fourteen human years—eighty in feline—Bender has grown accustomed to routine: breakfast at six-thirty, talk television at eight. Later mornings to early afternoons are a little less structured, leaving him to wander the house or settle in for a nap. Then he eats again at four, followed up by water and a monitored trip to the litter box. After that, he usually sits on the cushioned back of your couch to watch movies with you.

His owner is away in Florida with her grand kids. She’s been leaving him with you for the past six months whenever she needs time away from Virginia to let loose and explore. Bender isn’t really my cat, she’d told you the first time, but her daughter is in New York for school and couldn’t take him this year. You secretly hope that she never does. He’s excellent company.

Professional pet-sitting hadn’t ever been a career that you’d really considered. You’re still not sure if this is a forever thing or a temporary gig to pay the bills. Really, you’d like to put your degree to use in some capacity. But after being laid off so abruptly…well, you aren’t itching to get back out into the workforce quite yet. Especially not when sweet older women pay you a hundred dollars a day to revel in the company of cuddly creatures.

They aren’t all easy like the old man. Charlie, the St. Bernard you sat last month, is clingier than any ex you’ve ever had. The Fogelmans’ Dalmatian is nice to have for a day or two, but thirty minute runs twice each morning go from exhausting to borderline impossible by day three. Animals are exhausting. When you aren’t sitting, you’re sleeping.

Peeling back the tin lid on a can of wet food, you can already hear the light tap of Bender’s small paws on the floor. He joins you in the kitchen, waiting as he watches you spoon half of the can’s contents onto a dessert plate. You soften it, making it easier to chew before you slide the food over to him. He always takes a comically big first bite.

“If only they could all be like you, huh?”

Bender doesn’t answer, of course. He’s a cat.

Good Morning America rambles away on your flat-screen. You’re waiting for Bender’s owner, his travel carrier already baited with treats. The unopened food cans and his toys are packed away in a grocery bag by the door. When Anne-Marie sends you a text that she’s in the neighbourhood, you gently lead the cat into the carrier. The grated door clinks shut behind him.

Poking a finger through the slats, Bender meets you with his paw.

“Come visit me soon, alright?” you ask. “Maybe your mom can take a long trip to Canada or something.”

Anne-Marie doesn’t have to knock for you to know she’s there, her short shadow visible through the frosted glass beside the door. You stand and turn to open it, greeting her with a smile. She asks after you and tells you about her flight in.

“I hope he’s been a good boy,” she says.

“An angel, as usual,” you reply.

“He’s a little bit of a grump sometimes.”

“Perfectly fine with me. Bender’s always welcome back here.”

Anne-Marie takes the bag of food and toys first, tossing it into the front passenger seat before returning for the carrier. Handing it over, you watch as she walks down the steps and  loads him into the backseat of her SUV. She buckles Bender’s glorified plastic box securely in the back, getting in herself. Anne-Marie waves at you from behind the wheel. You wave back.

Watching the vehicle pull away with your furry friend in tow, you see your neighbour’s house for the first time today. The weather is cooling off as winter grows closer. You don’t see him out much anymore, except when he gets home from who-knows-where. Even then, it’s only a glimpse of his short walk to the front door. Today, he’s sitting on his porch. With a fleece sweater zipped to his chin and a vest hugging his torso, you watch as pulls on a pair of muddy boots.

Cold air breezes past you, the draft pulling you back to reality. Just as you’re about to close the door, he peers up. And looks…directly at you. Then your neighbour smiles in acknowledgment.

Making eye contact for a second too long, you shut the door quickly. Leaning against the surface, you replay the last thirty seconds in your head. The car pulled away, he was sat there…he pulled on his boots and saw—

Three sharp knocks land on the other side of your door. You’re too much of an optimist, hoping it’s Anne-Marie again. Glancing at the glass from here, you find the realistic answer. It’s him, up close and personal this time—for the first time. Suddenly, you’ve forgotten how to breathe.

He knocks once again, clearly waiting. There’s nowhere else for you to go. The man is standing at the only reasonable exit point. Caving, you take a breath and open the door. 

The first thing you notice is his smell. Earthy-sweetness lingers with him as the familiar stranger smiles at you. Again.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hello,” you return. “…Can I help you?”

“I figured that I’ve lived across the street for a while but never introduced myself,” the man says. He holds out a hand and you take it, his broad palm warming yours. “I’m Marcus.”

You tell him your name, still shaking his hand. When you let go, the smile falters.

“So Marcus, what can I do for you?”

“Well, I was wondering if I could borrow a cup of sugar,” he says.

You glance around the doorway, unsure how to respond. “Um—” 

“I’m joking.”

“Oh,” you nod. Shifting your weight from right to left, the tiniest of squeaker toys lands under your foot.

“You've got a dog, right?”

“Sort of,” you say. “I pet-sit sometimes. They aren’t really mine.”

“I was going to ask if you wanted to bring ‘em out for a walk, but I guess—”

“I could still go for a walk,” you say, the words rushing out.

The smile returns to Marcus’ face, strong as ever as he nods. “Sure. Great.”

“Just give me one second.”

You backtrack into the front hall, pulling open your coat closet for a jacket and your shoes. It only takes a minute before you’re joining Marcus on your porch. He leads you down the steps, taking a right onto the sidewalk. This is the direction he drives in from.

“So, pet-sitting,” he says. “Passion or hobby?”

“Well, I get paid for it. Not really a hobby.”

“Monetized hobby,” Marcus corrects himself. “Or is this what you do professionally?”

“In that case, hobby. I lost my job a couple of months ago. Still sort of figuring it out,” you say. Marcus nods. Then you ask, “What about you?”

“Why don’t you guess?”

You hum, thinking back on what you know about him. The car he drives is new, a dark SUV with tinted windows. Whatever he does must pay pretty well. He lives alone, fairly solitary; no kids, no spouse. You’ve seen him bring in a maximum of three grocery bags at once, and yet he hasn’t starved, so he probably doesn’t cook a lot. Sometimes it’s like he’s never home, and others he’s ever-present. That’s a pretty erratic schedule for a business professional.

Giving up on a real answer, you say, “Male stripper.”

He laughs and rolls his eyes. “I wish.” You and him both.

“A cop?” you ask.

“Warmer,” Marcus says. “FBI agent.”

“You’re joking, right? Are you even allowed to tell normal people those things?”

“I mean, sure. You’re not a terrorist, are you?” he asks.

“No,” you say.

“Then we’re fine,” Marcus says. He formally introduces himself. SSA Marcus Pike.

“So, Marcus the FBI agent. What draws you to Fairfax County?”

“The commute. And the house is nice, too.”

“You don’t strike me as a white picket fence kind of guy.” Looking out at the neighbourhood, that’s all there is.

“You don’t seem the type either,” he says. Touché. “When I first started planning the move, it wasn’t supposed to be just me. But uh…some things changed, and I’d already bought the house. Can’t let it go to waste.”

There’s something raw there. It softens his voice a little, taking away that clutch of confidence that seemingly brought him to your door.

You say, “I guess it’s better here than another shit-box apartment.”

“Right? That was my whole life back in Texas,” Marcus says.

“Texas?”

“Not born nor bred,” he says. “I worked in the Art Theft department at the bureau there.”

“Working on crafts for the kiddos?” you ask.

“More like nabbing art thieves, stopping criminal smugglers. Stuff like that.”

You hate to admit that this man probably has more courage in his pinky finger than you possess in your entire being, but at least now you can justify the curiosity.

“So you’re good at catching the bad guys, then,” you say.

“More so good at noticing things,” Marcus explains.

The air changes slightly, goosebumps rising along your skin. You ignore any potential implication. “Like what? Human behaviour?”

“Sure,” Marcus says. “Small stuff. Like if someone’s lying…or if I’m being watched.”

When Marcus doesn’t say anything else, you pause. A finely manicured lawn as your backdrop, you stare at him, disbelieving. You can’t imagine what you look like—the pictured definition of mortification.

“Look, I’m really sorry if I creeped you out. I just—I don’t get out a lot without a job and all, and I don’t really have any friends here. You seemed interesting, but none of that’s an excuse and I should’ve come over and said h—”

He says your name, stopping your rambling. “It’s fine,” Marcus says. “A little odd but…flattering?”

With your heart racing in your chest, you scrub a hand over your face. “Oh my god,” you sigh. “I really am sorry, Marcus. My life isn’t very…normal anymore. It makes you do some weird things.” 

You can’t remember the last time you were outside before today. Direct grocery delivery took away any need to get out to the store, and with it your last real connection to the outside world. Except the pets. They keep you from losing it entirely.

“We’ve all got our fair share,” Marcus says. Why is he being so cool about this? He should be calling the police, or in this case, himself.

So you ask, “Why are you trying to make me feel better?”

“Well, if I don’t then you might not want to come over for dinner later."

At seven o’clock, you make your way across the street to Marcus’ front door. You hesitate in knocking, checking the time on your phone again. He says it’s fine, but maybe this is a mistake. You’re not over the embarrassment from earlier. You really don’t know how to carry out social interactions anymore. Maybe it’s for the best if you turn around and quietly slip back into your house…

Before you get the chance, the door before you opens up. Marcus has changed. He’s wearing less layers this time, only a simple white Henley shirt and a dark pair of jeans. Cartoon sharks bite the ankles of his socked feet, and you find yourself smiling when you finally look at his face. God, this man is fucking gorgeous. It almost makes you mad.

“Hi,” you say.

“Hey, come on in.”

He stretches his arm to open the door wider, stepping aside to make room. You take your boots off at the door and note the details of his home. The walls are cherry red, different to the sage green of your place across the street. The wall space in the kitchen is filled with paintings where yours stay bare, all of them neatly hung—Frida Kahlo and Elmina Moisan are the artists you recognize. 

Marcus tells you that his mother is Chilean, that he was born over here once his American father could get her stateside. They moved down to Mexico when he finished high school. He’s visited every summer since, and each time he brings back a painting. There are only four here.

"You're missing a few," you say.

"The rest are upstairs," Marcus says.

Maybe you'll see them later.

Tonight, he's making fried rice and soy sauce chicken.

"Or See Yao Gai, if you want to get fancy with it," he says, concentrating on the pan.

Watching Marcus work over the stove is mesmerizing. He knows what to do and exactly when to do it, never letting anything burn or sit too long. You feel more like you're watching a professional chef than a guy that cooks "on occasion.” Even the way he washes rice has technique.

Jesus Christ, get it together.

Before plating the food, Marcus offers you a drink. He pours himself a small glass of something red.

"I'll have what you're having," you nod.

He sits across from you at the table. You imagine yourselves as your respective houses, the cloth runner that sits in the middle of the table acting as the paved street. They say people look like their pets, but homes take on characteristics of the people who live in them. Everything here is warm, like his hand. Vibrant and pleasant. The place smells like him too, all sweet and saffron.

The first bite of dinner explodes with flavour in your mouth.

"This is fucking delicious," you mumble, still chewing.

"Thank you."

"Of course." After a sip of wine, you say, "I mostly sustain myself off of hot pockets and spinach wraps. This is like, gourmet."

"You don't cook at all?" Marcus asks.

"Eh," you shrug. "I used to. A lot, actually. But it's not the same when—"

When what? When there's no love in it? Something like that. There's no one to feed, no one to come home to. So who fucking cares?

"When you're only cooking for yourself."

"I understand." They should sound like empty words, but something in Marcus' eyes tells you he really does.

"It's just…hard, I guess." Oh no, where are you taking this? "To keep caring? I’m sort of—"

"Going through the motions?" he asks.

"Yeah. Exactly," you say.

Marcus scoops another forkful of rice off his plate, chewing before he swallows. He says, "Well you know, I'm right across the street. Maybe twenty feet away? So if you need to, you can always go through the motions over here."

You don’t know exactly what he means, but it sounds nice. Someone to talk to. "One day I might just take you up on that."

When you're both finished, you help Marcus with the dishes and re-organising the table. You're showing yourself to the door with him in tow. You open it and cross over the threshold, the cold hitting you all at once. The sky is much darker than it was only an hour ago. A streetlamp behind you highlights Marcus’ face just so.

"Thanks for dinner. For all of it," you say. "It's been a long time."

"You're always welcome," Marcus says. And then he kisses you. Your hand moves over his shoulders, wrenching him forward to pull his body closer. You both stumble back into his house, the door closing behind you.

His hands remain respectfully north of the equator until you grab them, pulling them down to your hips. You break away from the kiss to say, "I don't usually…um. But do you want to—"

"Yes," he whispers. That's all the confirmation you need.

The combined stumble up to his bedroom has you bumping into walls, almost tripping on the landing. Marcus’ hands are hurried across your body. He can’t seem to make up his mind, palming your ass before he slides his hands over your ribs, squeezing your breast. Right outside his bedroom, he stops you.

“I’ve never done this before,” he says.

“Sex on the first date?”

“Sex…period.” You watch the way he cringes at himself, instinctively holding him closer.

Carefully, you say, “We don’t have to.”

“I want to. I just—it’s good to know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“It’s fine,” you say, giving him a kiss. “And we can take it slow.”

Marcus nods.

Inside the room, he lets you take the lead. You begin with your clothes, shedding your top, socks, and pants. Marcus mirrors you, leaving him shirtless in blue underwear. He’s already on his way to being fully hard, a bulge visible beneath the fabric.

Standing in front of his bed, you wave him over with a light come here. He’s drawn to you, a snake to its charmer, strong arms encircling you in his hold. You revel in the warmth of him. Marcus’ closeness has you leaning into his body, skin-to-skin. It has been so long since you’ve had this. You can’t remember the last time you’ve even had a hand to hold, an arm to brush by accident—so you take it. You revel in it, only god knowing the next time the opportunity will present itself.

“Are you okay?” Marcus asks, breath warm against your ear.

“Yeah, uh… I’m sorry,” you say. “It’s been a long time since I’ve touched somebody.”

The admission makes your stomach twist, Marcus’ face relaxing into a softer shape. Instead of the usual look of pity, he keeps his expression open. When he kisses you again, it’s long and slow; languid passes of his tongue against yours as the pair of you fall to the middle of the duvet. Marcus settles against you, assuring that his weight doesn’t crush yours before he peppers pecks across your mouth and forehead.

You can feel him hard against your thigh, steadily rocking himself into your skin with every smooch. He asks, “Can I touch you?” and you breathe a yes.

His right hand moves from its place on your torso to glide down the side of your body, cupping your ass before Marcus slides two fingers into the band of your panties. He smooths the pads of his fingers over the skin below your stomach, dipping below your pelvis to feel you.

Marcus brushes against your clit. You tilt your hips higher, chasing after the sensation.

“Here?” he asks.

“Little to the left?” you whisper. Adjusting accordingly, your breath catches when he finds it. “Yeah, there.”

Marcus rubs at it with his fingers, drawing tight circles around your clit as you wedge your face in between his shoulder and jaw.

“Can I kiss your neck?”

“Sure.”

Slowly, mindlessly, you peck at Marcus’ skin to ground yourself. Closer to his ear, he smells powdery, like vanilla. You’d like to know if it’s cologne or all him. You gasp when his fingers move to collect some of your wetness, returning to your clit and doubling down on the light pressure. Tongue darting past your lips, you lick him. He groans.

“Does that feel good?”

Gathering your thoughts takes a moment. “Yes, Marcus—don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

He watches you now, eyes closed as you’re worked closer to the edge. With Marcus’ free hand, he slides the strap of your bra off your shoulder, pulling the fabric away from your breast.

“Use your mouth,” you instruct him.

Marcus doesn’t need to be told twice, ducking low to take your nipple into his mouth. His lips and fingers working in tandem as your body narrows in on the edge of pleasure. You keep a hand at the back of his head as he licks and sucks your nipple. When he takes the sensitive bud between his teeth, you cry out and tug at Marcus’ hair. You push his mouth closer, closer—you wish he would eat you.

It doesn’t take very long for you to cum. A few more tugs of his teeth at your nipple and a harsher pass over your clit has you seizing against him, lips parted as a harsh noise leaves your mouth. Marcus slows his fingers to an eventual stop. When you look at him again, he’s eyeing the stickiness left between them.

You hold his wrist, pulling it to your mouth and slipping his fingers onto your tongue. Marcus watches you clean them intently, like he’s committing the sight to memory. When your done, he holds your face and kisses your nose. You laugh.

“What else do you want to do?” he asks.

You slide a hand down his stomach, lightly prodding his belly button just to see him flinch. The smile he gives you makes you ache.

Hand hovering close to his clothed cock, you say, “I wanna touch you.”

He nods. “Please.” The single word comes out high and whiny, stoking that fire in your belly once again.

Slipping a hand into his briefs, you feel the wetness at the head of his cock as it smears against the elastic. You start there, taking the sticky tip into your palm to gather some of Marcus’ precum. When you work your hand over the rest of him, the glide is easier, his skin like slick velvet underneath you. It’s your turn to watch as his eyes flutter closed, mouth twisted into a pout as Marcus breathes hard through his nose.

“You can make noise, baby. Let me hear you,” you say.

Marcus gives you a quick nod, eyes opening again when you squeeze him at the base of his shaft. He moans, long and low, lips parted beautifully. You speed up, watching the effects of the faster pace as he curls further into your body. The slope of his nose drags against the skin of your shoulder as he breathes you in.

“Fuck,” Marcus whispers. His curses are said softly into your skin. Suddenly, his upper half draws away from you. “Fuck, wait, wait—”

You don’t realize he’s cumming until the first stripe of spend lands across your hip. Marcus groans, a reluctant purr from the back of his throat that mixes in with another low, “Fuuuuck.” Your hand frozen around him, you wait until he’s done to move.

Immediately, Marcus withdraws from you entirely. His eyes are glued to the cum on your skin, face twisted with something unreadable.

“Hey,” you say, touching your clean hand to his. He looks up at you. “It’s fine. You’re fine.”

“I’m really sorry,” Marcus mutters.

“Why?” you ask. With the shake of your head, you join him closer to the end of the bed. You slide your fingers through the mess of his spend, bringing them to your lips. Again, he watches as you clean it up. “Totally natural. Normal. You felt good, right?”

“Yeah, but—”

“That’s all that matters. I felt good too.”

“Do you still want to…” he trails off.

“If you want to do more, I have no objections,” you say. “And if not.” With a shrug, you quirk your lips up. There’s no pressure here. You’re grateful to have him at all tonight.

“I have an idea,” Marcus says. He shakes off the funk, shoulders rolling back again easily.

“I’d love to hear it.”

Noses close enough to touch, your hands never leave his skin as Marcus confides in you his thoughts. When you say yes, he positions himself below you. Starting at your ankles, he nuzzles his face against your skin, slowly moving upwards as he presses kisses to your calves. Eye-level with your left knee, he readjusts your leg. He lightly slides his tongue over the slot of skin behind the joint, pulling giggles from you as you squirm at the feeling.

From here, Marcus makes sure to take his time. He alternates between soft, wet kisses and flat licks up your thighs. He noses along the sensitive skin, rocking into the mattress every once in a while.

“This is probably bad timing…” he trails off. You wait for Marcus to continue, but he’s too preoccupied licking at the skin of your mid-thigh. Running your hand through his hair, you try to capture his focus again.

“Marcus?”

He looks up at you, those beautiful brown eyes melting your heart and sending it dripping down to your cunt. “I’ve known the whole time. That you were watching me.” Then Marcus returns between your legs, nose at the crux of skin between your thigh and where you need him most.

You can barely map out your words. The anticipation is killing you. “You—you did?”

“Mhm,” he hums. He’s so close now.

“You never said anything.” The bridge of his nose presses directly against you, your hips stuttering against his face. “I would’ve…god, I couldn’t stop,” you confess.

“I kind of liked it,” he whispers to your pussy—a secret between them.

You groan when his nose brushes your clit again, breaking into a light pant when Marcus licks a fat stripe across the lips of your cunt. His words short-circuit your brain. You squeeze your eyes shut, imagining Marcus in this very room, touching himself as you unknowingly watch him in the dark. All those nights with the lights left on. Is that what he was doing?

Marcus slides his tongue directly over your pussy, prodding with care. Forcing yourself to look, your gaze falls from the ceiling to his lowered form. He’s already watching you, drinking in every bite of your lip and crease in your forehead. With your attention on him again, Marcus doubles down on his efforts, making out with your cunt as you whine.

“Please, please, please. Marcus—inside, can you use your fingers?”

“Anything,” he says, slipping two inside of you carefully. “Anything you want.”

They move in tandem with his tongue. Finally having something to grip and clench around has the heat of your second orgasm growing to a full forest fire. Picturing yourself now, you wonder if any of your other neighbours have taken an interest in the new guy in town. If they’re watching now, catching a glimpse of you through his window. The thought has you moaning again, picturing inches of soft, revealed skin and Marcus’ hands on you through the eyes of a stranger.

Marcus fucking you in the dark SUV that occupies the driveway, taking you against the translucent accent window of your front hall. Privacy with that hint of exposure. The delicious subtlety of risk.

Maybe you kind of like it too.

Marcus sucks on your clit and the sensation consumes you, flames licking up your spine. You cum with a shudder and a curse. He slows his hand down, removing his index and middle from you to share another kiss.

“I’d like you inside me,” you whisper.

Teeth gnaw at your insides. You crave the closeness, his warmth. Leaning to the side of the mattress, Marcus pulls open his bedside drawer. He fishes a condom from its depths.

“You’re prepared,” you say with a smile.

Marcus shrugs as he carefully tears the wrapper. “I was a boy scout.”

You sit up to help him put it on, spitting in your palm before you wrap it around his length. “Of course you were.”

He watches your movements, rolling the plastic on at the head before you remove your hand. Marcus slides the condom down the rest of him, keeping the end pinched.

“I was expecting brownie points for that presentation,” he says.

You lean up to meet him on your knees, teasing him with the promise of another kiss. You just miss his lips with your own, planting a peck at the corner of his mouth.

“You don’t get a prize for watching your hot English teacher roll one onto a banana.”

Leveraging his shoulders, you have him seated and straddled in one swift move. Marcus sucks in a gasp as you hover your cunt over him, slicking his cock with your body. He holds himself, lining up to let you sink down easily. The stretch is slight, feeling a pinch as he splits you open. Grasping your shoulders, Marcus moans into the plate of your chest.

Grinding on him slowly, you pet his hair and hold the heat of his face to your skin. “There you go,” you sigh. “How’re you feeling?”

You squeeze around him right as Marcus opens his mouth to answer, words replaced by stuttering breaths. "Good, good. So good,” he says. “Feeling you…fuck. You’re beautiful.” Marcus rocks his hips up into you, taking over the pace as he grows a little frantic. The friction of short hair at the base of him keeps you sated, enjoying the feel as he follows his release.

“Think of you all the time,” he continues. “See you out and—god, ah—you’re always so beautiful. Shit… Always alone. I just—”

Marcus grinds into you a few more times before he spills into the condom, moaning into the kiss you give him. You stay together like that for a minute, reveling in the feeling of him. Then you slide off his lap, Marcus’ limp dick slipping from you. He stands to take the condom off and disappears into the en suite bathroom. When he returns, the two of you bundle up under the covers.

He lets you be little spoon, his hands swiping softly over your stomach. Marcus traces little shapes beside your belly button, lips meeting the top notch of your spine.

“How was that?” you ask, breaking the soft silence.

“An excellent first time,” he says. “More…more than I imagined it could be. Thank you.”

“I’m glad.” You bring your own hand to the arm that wraps around you, feeling him. “It’s kind of a two-way street. I haven’t—I’m not really accustomed to closeness anymore.” His grasp on you has your head abuzz, high on his touch. Then you ask, “You said you saw me?”

“Oh, right,” Marcus says, remembering. “Saw you around the neighbourhood. I was mostly impressed you were able to keep a handle on that Dalmatian without turning into the evil coat lady.” His corny joke still makes you laugh, one more for the night, even as you shake your head. “And…I don’t know. I never saw you with anyone. I kept wanting to come over and say hello. Say anything, really.”

“I would’ve liked that,” you say. “Would still like that. If you came and talked to me.” Talking, fucking, going through the motions.

“I think we’re a little past that,” he says.

“You know what I mean.”

“I’ll always come talk to you.” A beat of silence. “Just you and me, like two lonely people.”

[winterchimez]

Eyes On Me | Lee Sangyeon

summary: Lee Sangyeon was determined that you were the right one for him, and he was going to make sure that you'll only have your eyes on him

pairing: ceo Sangyeon x employee f!reader

genre: suggestive

warnings: kissing, basically making out with your hot ceo 🤪

word count: 2,435

a/n: behold my very first fic for the loml ❤️ and yes this is written based on their jp track from their latest album! a huge shoutout to @sungbeam for helping me loads bcs ya gurl does not know how to write sexy 🧍🏻‍♀️ (ilysm beam 🩵)

It was a usual uneventful morning as the CEO of Lee Corporations sat in front of his desk, desperately trying his best to get to the hundreds of emails he had received for the day. 

Lee Sangyeon had been promoted to the head of the company, ever since his father retired from the industry 5 years ago. Frankly, it was never his choice to work in the business industry. 

Coming from a well-off family, it was difficult for the man himself to turn his back on his parents' high standards and expectations. Ever since his older sister was married off, he had no choice but to follow in the footsteps of his family’s business which has been passed down for generations. 

Adding insult to injury, that also meant that his parents were also in control of his love life. He has been set up multiple times in the past with a variety of different girls, from high school up to college, and eventually now in the work industry. None of them truly matched his values and desires and he always broke things off with them, the longest relationship only lasting about 2 years. 

Since he was already 27 years of age, his parents were desperately trying to get him to settle down for good. Hence, they found him yet another girl, who also came from yet another well-off family.

In fact, both families have been business partners for the past 2 decades. When their one and only daughter decided to work in Lee Corporations, eventually rising up to the ranks of being Sangyeon’s personal assistant, it was a win-win situation in both families’ eyes. 

A knock was heard on his front door, and he decided to shut down his computer screen, already knowing who it’ll be visiting at this hour.

“Come in.” 

Within seconds, the door swung open and a female dressed in a stylish, matching pencil skirt and blazer set brought in his favourite choice of coffee, iced americano, and placed it onto his desk.

Sangyeon stood up, and eventually made his way towards the female before both parties having their bodies pressed against one another, arms winding around each other’s bodies. 

“How was your day, babe?” 

“Just the usual, nothing much.”

The woman noticed how gaunt he looked. Clearly, he was pretty worn out due to the unending amount of crap he has to deal with being the CEO. 

Loosening his tie, she immediately threw it to the ground, before cupping both of Sangyeon’s cheeks as she decided to go in for a kiss.

“Let me take away all of your worries, babe.” 

As their lips met, the female snake both of her arms around his shoulder while Sangyeon wraps his around her waist. Both were having a passionate kiss, as one would like to say, tongues exploring each other’s mouth. 

As much as one would think that Sangyeon loves his fiancé, Rachel, who is also his personal assistant, what nobody knew was how he had his eyes on a completely different individual. 

Although physically occupied, Sangyeon happens to open up his eyes as he notices a familiar female employee that just made her way onto the floor to pass on some documents required to her superior. 

You began your journey here at Lee Corporations earlier this year when you were promoted from a small humble company on the outskirts of Seoul. Apparently, your superior in your former job had an acquaintance that informed him that the Lee Corporations were in dire need of more capable employees to join the team as they continue to expand their business.

Your former boss knew very well how you’ve always excelled at your job, and insisted that you applied. Hence, he immediately signed you up and you were packing your bags and leaving your home village for the heart of Seoul within the next couple of weeks. 

It was hard to leave everything behind, especially when you’ve lived almost your whole 25 years of life back in your quaint, little village. But you knew in order to support your family, you had to take on whatever job that had the best and highest pay. 

The first few months were tough, coming into a city filled with strangers. Hell, even joining one of the most prestigious companies in Seoul gave you little to no reassurance or confidence. But luckily, as time went on, you came to have found a comfortable place to be, as well as having the best co-workers surrounding you on a daily basis. 

In fact, it was you who caught the attention of the one and only, CEO of Lee Corporation.

There was something so intriguing about you, even the man himself couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. The way you’re always so focused on your job, the way you smiled and giggled whenever you were talking to your co-workers, even the way you munched on your favourite bagel that you always got from the local bakery down by the street. 

You had everything a man wants: long silk light brown hair that always seemed so perfect no matter how you styled it, a pretty smile that would melt the hearts of the people around you, and a perfect sculpture, both facial and body-wise, that captivates the CEO himself. 

Lee Sangyeon was strongly attracted to you. He himself would like to say that he’s practically drowned in love, like a sailor to a siren if you will. Ever since you introduced yourself to him on your first day at work, something had felt strange to him, to the point he constantly get these little butterflies in his stomach since that day, even until now whenever he laid his eyes upon you.

At this point, his entire universe might as well revolve around you, but it was definitely not easy to come clean to his and his fiancé's parents about this since wedding preparations were already on their way. And to think of how both businesses would suffer if there were to be a scandal that comes to light because of a third party that is involved.

But what they failed to note was how persistent Sangyeon can be. When he lays his eyes upon something he truly loves, he’s prepared, by all means, to do what he must to get what he wants, even if it meant using his status to do so. 

A party was going to be held tonight at the Swiss Grand Hotel, one of the most well-known luxury hotels in Seoul. A lightbulb dings in his mind, knowing how he is going to make full use of this entire event that was going to take place tonight.

He was determined to let the world know that you were his.

You arrived with a cocktail dress you somehow managed to borrow from one of your co-workers. There was no way you were going to buy a new dress in the heart of Seoul when you were already struggling to pay your monthly rent. 

But the dress you chose for the night was still elegant and appropriate, which painted you in a totally different light. The Y/N you knew of who grew up in the village would’ve never thought to be able to wear such fancy attire, let alone attend one of the most prominent figures in Seoul high society's party in the city. However, you thought it was good for a change, and you were definitely going to savour this whole night of finally being able to let loose and enjoy it to the fullest.

As you entered the venue, sure enough, the entire room was decorated to be as extravagantly as possible. Gold confetti balloons were scattered throughout the entire room, and an all-you-can-eat buffet and bar were stationed on the far side of the room for all employees of the company to devour as much as they would like. 

“Rich people things,” one of your co-workers whispered to you in the ear, and you couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. 

You tried your best to blend in as much as you could, clearly, you were still unfamiliar with this kind of environment. You had a bit of a bite and a drink down at the bar, before the lights in the room started to dim, indicating that it was time for a dance between employees.

You weren’t much of a party girl, so you decided to watch from afar, by the door, with a glass of champagne in hand. 

That was until you felt someone grab your wrists and pulled you out of the room, dragging you down the dimly lit hallways and eventually into a dark, empty room. 

You were terrified, to say the least. Were you about to get kidnapped while in the midst of a company party? Whoever this was and what their intentions may be, you definitely did not want to know.

Before you could let out a scream, a palm was placed over your mouth, followed by a hush sound coming from the individual himself. 

“Shhh.. Y/N. It’s all okay.”

Wait a minute. You recognised that voice. 

That deep husky voice could only belong to one person, and you were hoping that it wasn’t the person you had in mind. 

You opened up your eyes and sure enough, you found your boss leaning into you while your back was pressed up against the wall. 

Holy smokes, this is Mr. Lee! 

You were panicking, thinking of the multitude of things that you might have done wrong at work so far to trigger your boss enough to take you into a private room to talk things out. That is, until your boss was the one who broke the silence. 

“Listen, Y/N. I know this may seem crazy and all, but you have no idea how much I’ve waited for this day to come.”

Wait. What on earth? 

“I can’t tell you how much you make me go insane, and how desperately I have waited for this day to come to truly make you mine.” 

No. This has to be a mistake-

You begin to talk through your muffled voice, which caused the man to let go of his palm that was still covering your mouth. “I-Umm… with all due respect sir, I mean, Mr. Lee, this can’t be real… I mean you have your fiancé here tonight-”

“No, Y/N. You don’t understand.”

Now, he leans further into you, taking both of your arms and pinning them above your head. He leans his head down close to you as he whispers into your ear. “You are the one that I’ve always wanted all along. It has always been just you in my universe ever since you came into my life. And tonight, I will claim you and you will be mine, and mine only.” 

And then his lips are on yours as he begins to devour you like you’re his last meal. Your eyes widen at the sudden move, your entire body frozen.

You were desperately trying your best to rationalise this entire situation you were stuck in. Because, heck, for one, he was your boss for goodness sake! And two, you were unfortunately too weak to fight against his strong grip over you. And three, you were at war with yourself—you weren't supposed to encourage this behaviour, but why did it feel so good?

Oh my god. Sangyeon was completely in heaven at this point because you had the most luscious, soft and warm lips he has ever kissed. And now that he has tasted your lips, he wasn’t going to let go anytime soon.

Plus, the fact that you decided to spray on his favourite perfume, Mémoire d’une Odeur from Gucci. There was no doubt he recognised it right away for sure. The airy and musky scent that it produced, and how it always made him feel at ease. So every time you walked past the hallway, the scent seemed to linger and always made him anticipate your visits. Oh, how he enjoyed so much how the scent seeped into his lungs and suffocated him. 

He moved his lips down to your jaw and to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses all over your sensitive spots. In return, you elicit a soft, pleasurable moan, honey to his ears. 

“Y/N, baby. You sound so good," he groaned, lips inking the words into your skin.

Whimpering a little, you tried your best to mutter out the words that were stuck in your throat. “Ple-please… what do you want from me?”

“Oh, baby… I don’t even understand myself anymore at this point.”  

As he begins to suck on your earlobe, he frees one of your arms so that he is able to snake his hand under your dress, touching your soft and sensitive thighs. 

“I can’t control myself Y/N.” 

As you continued to whine as he begins to suck aggressively on your collarbone, you knew that this man was far from done with you.

“Oh my god. Mr. Lee… I-I can’t…”

“Sangyeon. Call me that, baby.” 

“S-sangyeon… please….” 

But your entanglement was interrupted when the doors burst open. An angry female voice boomed, and Sangyeon knew precisely who it was without having to turn his head back to take a look.

He quickly tucked your head down into his chest with his other hand, not wanting to expose your identity and to keep you safe. 

“How many times are you going to do this, Sangyeon. For God’s sake we have finally found you a suitable partner It’s about damn time you settle down and stop being stubborn!”

“No, Mother. For 27 years you and father have always been in full control of my life. Now that I have finally found the perfect partner for myself, I will not let you both rule over my life ever again. The wedding with Rachel is over.” 

Knowing how she is practically unable to win against her son, Sangyeon's mother huffed and stormed away down the hall to take care of the mess that was bound to happen now that the cat is out of the bag. 

Turning his attention back to you as he lifts up your head, he places another soft kiss right onto your lips again. 

“I want you to see me, Y/N. And in return, I will completely surrender myself to you. So have your eyes on me only, to the point of breaking.” 

Snaking his hand back into your thigh, he leans back down and whispers into your ear. 

“Next time, maybe consider wearing red lingerie instead. That would definitely turn me on even better.”  

a/n: ever since @sungbeam convinced me that sangyeon is most def into red lingerie it has been implanted deep in my mind i love hate you for that 😔

masterlist

taglist: @deoboyznet @kflixnet @flwoie @hokupi @zzoguri @kyusqult @tinkerbell460 (join my permanent taglist here!)

[b33-writesstuff]

Coffee and Changing Leaves (Pt.1??)

Summary:

After your friends leave you at a bar, you stumble into a coffee shop to meet a most handsome barista.

WARNINGS: Vomit mentions, generally being drunk, otc medication mentions

Pairing: Spencer Reid x f!reader

Tags: Fluff, Coffee shop AU, Reid is a student, use of Y/N

WC: 1.4k

A/N: I've never really written anything like this. Hope yall enjoy. Any feedback is appreciated! There may be a part 2 if this does well or if I feel like it

Your head pounded and your vision blurred. You staggered out onto the street, promptly puking on the sidewalk. Your friends had left you alone in some dinky bar after a so-called “girl’s night out”. It was 2, maybe 3 a.m.; either way, it was dark, with only the neon signs and streetlamps to light your way. You staggered through the streets, trying to find your apartment. You had walked here, living only 15 minutes away. But everything looked foreign now. You could have sworn that the old brick building was the coffee house you would always visit, but the face inside didn’t look like the one of your usual barista and there was no one inside. Like a moth to a flame though, you stumbled inside. 

The bell rang out with a small chime. It felt like the call of an angel. The bright lights hurt your eyes but the warmth was comforting. The smell of coffee grounds and floor cleaner wafted through the air. Soft music played through the speakers overhead. You just stood near the door, leaning against a table, trying to adjust. The barista came out from the back, already untying the apron from his waist. He had shaggy brown hair and slender hands. He wore glasses with a round frame and when he saw you he froze.

His voice was timid “Exc- excuse me but we’re closed.” You just looked up at him, at least best you could before covering your eyes again. Your voice was slightly raspy from all the off-tune and far too loud singing you had been doing,

“Look, I figured, just- if you could tell me what street I’m on, I’d really appreciate it.” He looked at you and pulled his apron over his head before walking towards you. Placing a soft hand on your shoulder he asked you “Are you ok?” “Yeah, just really, really drunk. And lost. Which is great.”

“Maybe I could walk you home, if that's alright. It’s like 3 a.m. right now. I’m Spencer by the way. Reid. Spencer Reid. What’s your name?” “Y/n” you answered curtly.

“Well y/n, let’s get you home, if it’s all good with you.” You don’t know why but you trusted him, and so you nodded and he walked close to you, letting you lean against him as he asked you a myriad of questions. “Where do you live? Why are you out alone? Why did your friends leave you behind?” Honestly, you didn’t have the guts to tell him they left you for a bunch of guys. You didn’t have the guts to tell him you were happy they left you alone at the bar. Spencer smelled like coffee and vanilla. You were sure you smelled like cheap margaritas and puke, but he didn’t seem to mind. As you walked the two blocks to your apartment he rambled about a thousand different things you didn’t quite understand. You found he was a student at the FBI academy and was learning to be a profiler. Then he explained what a  profiler was. He was far smarter than you were, and you were in awe, even in your drunken state. 

Finally,  you got to your apartment building. You insisted you were fine to walk in yourself, but as he saw your poor attempt at walking up the stairs, he grabbed your waist and helped you walk to your apartment door. His touch made your stomach flutter. You unlocked the door with a pronounced click and invited him in. He chuckled, saying that this was as far as his journey went, but that he’d love to see you around the coffeehouse. You apologized about a thousand times but he just placed a hand on your arm and told you it was fine and that you were drunk. You closed the door and slumped down, thinking that some coffee might just help with your upcoming hangover, or at least that seeing him would.

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The next morning you woke up on your couch, a half-finished bowl of cereal on the coffee table and the TV on Netflix’s ‘Are You Still Watching?’ screen. You sat up groggily. You had a killer headache and your feet hurt. You stretched as you grappled with what you could remember of last night’s events and cringed in embarrassment at the thought of you inviting a guy you just met into your apartment. You stood and dragged yourself to your bathroom, turning on the shower and letting the room steam up. You brushed your teeth and scrubbed the smell of last night’s drinking off of you. After wrapping yourself in your towel, you walked to your room. The curtains were closed and it was dark but you found your way to your nightstand lamp and then promptly laid down on your bed. You sank into the plush mattress and soft comforter. You sighed, happy you didn’t have work today before once again remembering Spencer. You remember he was tall and had longish, messy brown hair. You remembered that he was smart and kind but you mostly remembered his hands. They were strangely soft and yet strong. He had held you with an unusual kindness. He seemed shy but you also got the impression he knew exactly what to do in most any situation and would step up if needed. And as much as you hated to admit it, you had a crush on a man you barely talked to. You downed some aspirin you had on your nightstand and stood to get dressed. Picking out a cute outfit, perfect for the chilly fal weather, you collected your things and walked out of your apartment. You walked the two blocks and found yourself in front of the coffee shop you were at the night before. As you peeked inside, you saw a young blond woman, not the man you had met just 12 hours ago. You sighed in disappointment and with nowhere to go you found yourself walking aimlessly around your neighborhood. It was a crisp October day. The leaves were beginning to turn shades of gold and ruby. This part of the neighborhood was usually quiet, with only a few cars passing by every few minutes. You felt your phone buzz and saw a text from your boss asking about the recent project you had been working on. You never finished texting them back though before running headfirst into the body of none other than Spencer Reid. You looked up at him. He was dressed in a pair of jeans and a white hoodie. He looked… cute. Your internal fawning was interrupted by the sound of his voice. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Are you ok?” “Uh yeah, I’m fine,” you replied as you looked up to meet his eyes. “Hey, it’s you! How are you feeling?” He asked excitedly as he offered a hand to help you up.

You chuckled “Much better thanks to you. Thank you for walking me home by the way. I was lost as a bat with no ears.” “A bat with no ears! That’s a good one!” he said but then his smile faded a bit, “Hey I gotta get going to work, but I’ll see you around. Maybe you can come order a coffee one day.”

“It’s a date!” Spencer walked past you but you were just frozen staring at the ground. “It’s a date!”? Really? That's the word choice you used? You absolute idiot! Now he’s probably gonna think you’re some sort of- You took a deep breath and shook away the negative thoughts. You figured it’d be weird if you showed up just after you had seen him, but at least you know he gets there in the afternoon on Sundays. You couldn’t get the thought of him out of your head. You watched your breath turn into a white puff and made the walk back to your apartment. It was cozy, which you guessed was another way to say small, but it served you well. It was one bedroom, one bath, a small kitchen and of course, your lovely conjoined dining room and living room. You sat down on your couch and opened up your laptop. The rest of the afternoon was spent replying to emails and working on the graphic design piece for your job. You worked for a large design firm and the was your first big project. You were excited, mostly for the pay, but were mainly nervous about hitting all the necessary deadlines. Only once your head started hurting from the light of the computer did you get up to make dinner. The smell of leftover spaghetti filled your home and you sat down, feeling incredibly, inexplicably lonely.