#Hold me close to your heart. Touch me and give all your love to me ! To me ! ♗ SYLAS/VLADIMIR ♗

[nctsworld]

ooo this was amazing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! spectacular stunning well done oooo

firstly, the inciting incident of minnie sending the box to jaemin. ooo it was so goooooood

the elevator scene!!!! such a crucial scene to build-up their relationship and i love love love the dialogue!!!!

“your hair,” he repeated, nodding toward you. “looks good.”   your brows furrowed. “it’s the same as always,” you muttered, turning back to the lock that was absolutely refusing to cooperate.   “huh.” he tilted his head, as if he were genuinely surprised. “then i guess it’s just you.”  

you got me YELLING

“there’s no way i’m going out,” you said flatly. // you still ended up going out.

that cut scene made me laugh HAHAH your tone for this fic is so awesome!! it flows so well and it's so light

jaemin telling reader to not drink so much omgggg that's so him coded!!!!!

you froze.  oh. oh my god. if this were an anime, you’d have shot out a nosebleed so powerful it’d blast you into another dimension.  

KMFSKLDMFDLK loved this scene!!!

okay i'm about to share some of my favourite parts that got me crying:

“stop me,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. but stopping him didn’t even cross your mind. not when he was looking at you like that. not when his face inched closer, closer…

//

his gaze flicked back up to yours. like he was asking. like he was giving you one last out.   you didn’t take it.  

//

“i don't know how much longer i can hold back…” his voice was strained.   you blinked down at him, heart thudding hard against your ribs. every nerve in your body felt like it had been lit on fire, but somehow, you still managed to smile.   “who told you to hold back?”you said, voice soft but sure.  

//

“look at you,”  he breathed, voice rough and half-laughing. “getting this worked up over a little humping” you leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his. “i’m clearly not the only one,” you shot back breathlessly..  

//

“say that again,” he said, voice nothing but gravel and breath. his hands slid up your thighs, pushing them apart, the slow drag of his touch enough to make you squirm. “say it again so i know you mean it.” your chest rose and fell with each shallow breath, and you reached up, fingers threading through his hair.   “nobody,” you whispered, tugging his head down just enough to make sure he heard you, “asked you to be soft.”

//

“you look so pretty when you cum,” he says, voice low and husky, and you hate the way your heart lurches in your chest as if he’s just said something sweet.   “you’re crazy,” you mutter, still catching your breath, wiping the sweat from your forehead.   “crazy for you,” he fires back, grin widening like he knows how corny it is and says it anyway. 

ugh all of that..... this is an accurate depiction of me reading this

"that’s not the right size," you blurted out, half-laughing. "no way."   his eyebrows lifted, a challenge sparking in his eyes. "oh? wanna bet?"  then his boxers hit the floor.   oh.   your breath caught in your throat as your eyes dropped, taking in the sight of his dick. heat flooded your face. what the hell. “close your mouth, baby,” he said, smirking. “unless you’re planning to put it to use.”  

I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTEEEEEEE !!!! GAHHH

and the ending omggg chef's kiss!!! this was such a wonderful fic i loved it so so so much thank you for blessing us with this fic <3

dr dreamy | na jaemin

pairing: doctor!neighbor! na jaemin x fem.reader genre & wc: smut, fluff, crack (ish) | 18k summary: in which your infuriatingly hot neighbor ends up getting your box of sex toys delivered to his door by mistake content warning: explicit smut, breast play, oral sex (fem.receiving), brief mentions of sex toy usage, teasing, marking, dry humping, cowgirl (yeehaw), alcohol consumption, monster cawwwk jaemin (i didn’t make this up it’s real) a/n: hiiiii yes yes i know, it’s been forever and ive neglected you all so bad i’m so sorry ! i can’t even use the excuse of being too busy bc i was just in the worst writing slump of my life. but i hope i can make up for all those 10 months of radio silence with this long fic :) also it’s pretty different from what i’m used to writing. for once i wrote it all in lowercase bc i felt like this was lowkey a pretty unserious fic and that was the vibe it required lol it’s also my first time trying to write something “funny” but my humor is not that good still i tried lolz. also i'd like to add that i know as much about doctors as the next person so don't expect much accuracy in that regard. anyways hope you enjoy :)

your leg bounced anxiously as you stared at the photo the delivery guy sent, trying to figure out which door your package had ended up on. every single door in your building was the same plain white with no decoration, no plants, no quirky doormat to offer a clue. just a long, boring hallway of identical doors, and somewhere behind one of them was your package. 

"great," you muttered, already feeling the creeping frustration in your chest. 

your phone buzzed in your hand, and you barely had time to glance at the screen before answering. 

"sooo," came minnie's voice, far too chipper for this disaster, "did you like my gift?” 

“i’m gonna strangle you,” you hissed, rubbing your temples. 

“woah, you know i’m not into that freaky shit.” 

“i’m serious, minnie,” you groaned, dragging a hand through your hair. “the package got delivered to a different apartment. you must’ve put the wrong number on it.” 

“no way,” she gasped, already on the defensive. “i literally double-checked. triple-checked, even. it’s apartment 235.” 

"what?” you yelled, nearly dropping your phone.

this can’t be happening. out of all the apartments in your building… it had to be that one?

“minnie…” you took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay calm, "it’s 236. apartment 236.” 

she paused. “oh.” 

you heard her laugh nervously, and it took everything in you not to throw your phone across the room. 

“minnie…” you groaned, pressing your forehead against the wall. “i swear, if it’s what i think it is based on our last conversation…” your voice trailed off as a sinking feeling settled in your stomach. “my next-door neighbor, minnie. MINNIE. jaemin…oh my god.” 

“wait,” she said, voice sharp with interest. “is that the doctor you said is too hot for his own good?” 

“i did not say that.” 

“you did.” 

“no, i said he’s just… a nice sight for my eyes, okay? in a building full of old people, sue me for appreciating the view.” you rubbed at your face. “but i can’t face him if he saw what’s in that package. i just can’t.” 

“listen…” minnie drawled. “what if he’s into it, though? think about it.” 

“i’m hanging up.” 

“no, wait—” but you pressed the red button before she could finish.  

the most mortifying experience of your 24 years on this planet, and it hadn’t even fully happened yet. but you could see it clear as day: the box, him opening it innocently, and its contents—oh, god, the contents.  

the thing is, you and minnie had a dumb tradition. whenever life got a little too miserable or stressful, you’d send each other gifts. random, stupid stuff. a manga you’d been talking about, or a plushie of your favorite sanrio character. the catch was you could never reveal what it was until it was opened. it was supposed to be a surprise.  

except this time, you were sure minnie’s idea of a "surprise" was directly inspired by your recent rants about being, well… frustrated. as in, the sexual kind of frustration. you had a strong hunch about what she’d sent. 

you sank into the couch, letting out a long sigh. you had two choices: go over there and pray he hadn’t opened it, or stay here and hope the ground swallowed you whole. both seemed equally unlikely.  

as you stared at the ceiling, someone knocked on the door.  

three soft knocks. 

your heart stopped, your body jolting so hard you nearly rolled off the couch. no. no, no, no. not him. please not him. 

you tiptoed to the door like a cartoon burglar, eyes wide with panic. don’t answer. if you don’t answer, he’ll just leave it. you could grab it later. it’s fine. everything’s fine. 

but as you got closer, you heard the softest shuffle from the other side. he was still there. you peeked through the peephole and there he was indeed… jaemin. your very handsome, very distinguished doctor neighbor. standing there, holding your box.  

you backed away from the door like it was about to explode. no, nope, you’d just wait until he— 

you bumped into the side table. hard. and in a moment of unfiltered pain, you yelled, “FUCK!” loud enough to echo down the hall. 

a long pause. 

“hello?” his voice was clear through the door. smooth, polite. 

you shut your eyes so tight you saw stars. letting him think you weren’t home was six feet under now. 

"just get it over with," you muttered to yourself, quickly checking your appearance in the mirror to make sure you didn’t look at destroyed as you felt.

you opened the door with the kind of smile you'd give a police officer who just pulled you over. "oh! good morning, neighbor!" you practically chirped, voice too high, too fake. 

he smiled, sleepy but devastatingly handsome. his scrubs hung perfectly off his frame, and his hair was tousled like he'd just came from a long night shift…which he probably did. he had the kind of face that made you think life has favorites.

“morning,” he said, nodding his head. “sorry to bother you so early, but this…” he held up the box, fingers tapping the side of it. tap tap tap your eye twitched. “this got delivered to my place by mistake.” 

he was so calm. too calm. 

“oh,” you squeaked, your voice barely functional. “uh, yeah! no worries at all! my friend sent it, haha, she’s… forgetful like that. really bad with numbers. haha…” you trailed off. kill me now.

“right,” he said, eyes flicking to the box. “well, here you go.” he held it out to you. 

you reached for it but your hands, slick with nervous sweat, betrayed you. the box slipped.  

“oh no-”  

thud.

everything.  

everything spilled out.  

time slowed. your heart dropped straight into hell. 

boxes. bottles. wrappers.  

and then the pièce de résistance.  

a sex doll. 

a life-size, anatomically correct, male sex doll.

you didn’t know what kind of sound you made, but it was something between a gasp and a whimper. your knees hit the floor as you scrambled to grab everything wishing you could somehow erase the last five seconds of reality.  

“oh my god,” you whispered, cramming the boxes into your arms. “oh my god. oh my god.”  

“uhm,” he cleared his throat and you didn’t even have to look up to know what kind of face he was making. there were no words for this. none. zero.  

“thank you for bringing it to me! bye!” you choked out, voice cracking on the last syllable as you grabbed what you could and slammed the door shut with the force of a hurricane. 

you pressed your back to the door, sinking to the floor, arms full of colorful boxes of shame. you stared at them.  

a vibrator. a bottle of lube. a very, very anatomically correct doll still half in its box.  

"minnie." you said her name like a curse.  

your phone buzzed. it was a text from her. 

minnie (6:18am): how’d it go?  

“hell,” you muttered, tossing your phone across the room. 

you sat there for what felt like hours, the weight of embarrassment crushing down on you. moving out suddenly seemed like the only reasonable option. scratch that, you were moving countries. or planets. was mars habitable yet?

♡ ♡ ♡

for the next few days, life was nothing short of miserable. you called in sick to work because there was no way you could leave your apartment and risk running into jaemin. the idea of seeing him again made your stomach twist into knots. to anyone else, it might seem dramatic—after all, owning sex toys wasn’t some scandalous crime—but the sheer context of it all was unbearable. 

the cherry on top was that the box had clearly already been opened. jaemin had definitely seen what was inside before you’d even dropped it. and the fact that he just pretended everything was normal while standing there with a straight face? it was almost worse. no, it was worse. because now he probably pitied you for dropping it in front of him even after he tried to save you from the embarrassment. 

you groaned, burying your face into the couch cushions. where was the armageddon when you needed it?

you hadn’t left your spot in the couch days, and your body was starting to hate you for it. your back ached from the awkward angle you were lying in, and your stomach growled because you’d panic-eaten the last of your food last night. 

“this is pathetic,” you muttered, grabbing your phone. 

after scrolling aimlessly for a few minutes, you reluctantly opened your food delivery app. you ordered enough food for at least two days and prayed the delivery guy would bring it to your door. but of course, life hated you, so when you got the “can’t find parking” text, you sighed loudly. 

“naturally,” you mumbled, dragging yourself off the couch. 

you threw on the most disguising outfit you could find: a black beanie, your puffy winter coat, and oversized sunglasses. did you look like a wannabe celebrity trying to dodge the paparazzi? sure. but desperate times called for desperate measures. 

you texted the driver a quick be right down and bolted to the elevator, keeping your head low. 

when you reached the parking lot, you practically snatched the bag out of the driver’s hands and mumbled a quick thank you before rushing back inside. you were so close to safety now. 

you stepped into the elevator and leaned against the wall, finally letting out a sigh of relief. but, as fate would have it, you celebrated just a tad too soon. 

just before the doors closed, a hand shot through the gap. you froze. 

you smelled him first.

that cologne. you’d know it anywhere. 

your heart sank as jaemin stepped into the elevator, looking unfairly handsome as usual. you, on the other hand, looked like a fugitive. 

“good afternoon,” he said politely, his voice calm and smooth. 

“hi, uh…afternoon,” you mumbled, holding the bag of food up to your face like a shield. maybe if you hid behind it long enough, he wouldn’t notice it was you. 

“y/n?” 

shit. 

you glanced at him reluctantly, offering an awkward laugh. “oh, hey, jaemin… didn’t realize it was you.” you pushed your sunglasses up onto your head. “these things are so dark.” 

he chuckled, tilting his head slightly. “didn’t recognize you either. are you coming from an event or something?” 

you blinked at him, realizing how ridiculous your outfit must look. “oh, no, i—uh… i have a cold,” you stammered. “just trying to stay warm, you know?” 

“ah,” he nodded, his expression softening. “well, you should rest up. drink plenty of water and maybe some tea with honey, it helps soothe your throat. oh, and—” 

he started rattling off doctorly advice and you could only stare at him, dumbfounded. because, of course, not only was he handsome, but he was kind, too. unfair. completely unfair. 

“thanks,” you said, cutting him off before he could get too deep into his list of remedies. 

he smiled at you again, and for a moment, you swore your heart skipped a beat. “i was actually a little worried,” he admitted, leaning against the elevator wall casually. “i haven’t seen you around the past few days.” 

“oh. uh… yeah,” you said weakly, shifting the food bag in your hands. “just been laying low, don’t wanna get anyone sick.” 

“i see,” he said, his tone light but teasing. “you’re not hiding from me, are you?” 

your eyes widened, and your breath caught in your throat. was it that obvious?

“what? no! why would i be hiding from you?” you forced out a laugh, but it sounded fake even to your ears. 

he raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching like he was fighting a grin. “hmm. just checking.” 

“yeah, it’s because of the cold” you muttered, fidgeting with the handle of the food bag. “it’s nothing serious, though. i appreciate the concern.” you tried to sound nonchalant, but the tremor in your voice betrayed you. 

“good to hear,” he said, his eyes still on you. “but still, if it doesn’t get better in a few days, you should probably see a doctor.” 

“right. definitely,” you nodded quickly, eyes glued to the little numbers above the elevator door, silently willing them to move faster. 

but of course, the universe hated you lately. the elevator suddenly jerked to a stop, too soon for your floor. you flinched, and before you could even begin to hope it was just a regular stop, the overhead lights flickered once, then twice, and then… nothing. 

darkness. 

“oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” you groaned, tilting your head back against the cold elevator wall. 

“well,” jaemin’s voice came through the darkness, and you could hear the grin in it, “this is bad timing, huh?” 

“this is my villain origin story,” you muttered, crossing your arms as you slid down to sit on the floor. “this is how i finally snap and become one of those people who yell at customer service workers.” 

he laughed, and you hated how nice it sounded. like melted chocolate. warm, smooth, and way too easy to get addicted to. 

“guess we’re stuck for a bit,” he said, sitting across from you. you could only make out the faintest outline of him in the dim emergency lighting. “not a bad person to be stuck with, though.” 

“yeah, lucky you,” you deadpanned, cradling your bag of food. 

there was a pause. not an awkward one but it felt somewhat intimate and you didn’t like it. not because you felt uncomfortable but because you were scared of embarrassing yourself further.

“hey,” he spoke up again, softer this time. “about the other day…” 

no. absolutely not. this was not happening. 

“nope,” you cut him off, waving a hand like you could physically swat the topic away. “we don’t talk about that. ever.” 

“but i think we should—” 

“we don’t, jaemin,” you said firmly, pointing at him like a scolding parent. “it never happened. you never saw it. i never dropped it. in fact, none of it exists. it was a shared hallucination caused by gas leaks in the building. that’s my story, and i’m sticking to it.” 

he snorted, hiding a laugh behind his hand. “gas leaks?” 

“yep. toxic fumes. real health hazard,” you nodded, doubling down. “you should probably get management to check that out, doctor.” 

“i’m a neurosurgeon, not an HVAC technician,” he shot back, amused. 

“same difference,” you muttered. 

another pause. you could feel him looking at you, even in the dimness. 

“for what it’s worth,” he started slowly, like he was choosing his words carefully, “i wasn’t judging you.” 

“good,” you mumbled, picking at a loose thread on your coat. “because i’m not like ashamed of it, just… mortified, you know?” you finally glanced up at him, feeling a little braver in the low light. “there’s a difference.” 

he nodded, eyes warm and understanding in a way that made your chest ache. “there is.” 

you sighed, letting your head fall back against the wall. “i’m moving. i’ve decided.” 

he laughed, full and bright. “you’re not moving.” 

“i am, actually,” you insisted. “gonna change my name, get a new identity. maybe move to the mountains. live off the grid. it’s the only way.” 

“you’re ridiculous,” he said, still grinning. 

“you say that like it’s news.” 

silence settled over you both again, but this time it was lighter. less suffocating. you could hear him shift, stretching his legs out in front of him. he tapped his fingers against his knees like he was keeping time to a song only he could hear. 

“so,” he said after a beat, voice low and casual. “was that, uh… the first time you ordered something like that?” 

your whole face went hot.

“jaemin,” you warned. 

“what?” he asked, the picture of innocence. “just curious.” 

“don’t make me call those toxic fumes back in here,” you threatened, pointing a stern finger at him. 

he threw his head back laughing, and despite yourself, you smiled too.

"fine, i won’t bring it up anymore,” he said with a tired smile, rubbing the back of his neck. his fingers pressed into the muscle there, and he winced slightly. 

“you okay?” you asked, glancing at him with concern. 

“yeah, just a long day at work,” he replied, rolling his shoulder like it’d been bothering him for hours. 

“yeah, i can imagine. the life of a doctor must be pretty hectic,” you said, eyes flicking to his hands as they worked over the tense muscle. “but you gotta know your limits too… you’re not made of steel, you know.” there was a hint of worry in your voice, and you tried not to let it show too much, but judging by the way he glanced at you, he caught it. 

he looked at you for a moment, longer than usual, before nodding. “you’re right,” he let out a short breath. “i guess i’ve been burying myself in work lately. but it’s hard not to when it’s this time of the year… i’m a pediatric neurosurgeon and too many kids get sick and hurt during the summer.” 

“oh, definitely. i’m not even a kid and i always get sick in the summer,” you joked, hoping to lighten the mood. 

he laughed at that, his grin easy and genuine. “never too late to have fun during the summer,” he said, leaning back against the elevator wall. “just not too much fun. can’t party too hard with a cold.” 

“do i look like the kind of person who parties too hard?” you raised an eyebrow at him. 

“hmm,” he tilted his head with a slight (cute) pout. “i wouldn’t know. we don’t know each other that well.” he glanced at you, eyes flicking over you just once before smirking. “but you’re young and pretty, so why not?” 

your heart stumbled in your chest, and you fought to keep your face neutral. did he seriously just call you pretty so casually like it was a fact of life?  the dim lighting of the elevator became your saving grace, hiding the warmth that crept up your neck. 

"want a piece?" you asked, anxiously trying to change the subject, raising the bag of fried chicken in your hands. you shook it lightly to emphasize. "i have a feeling we're gonna be stuck here for a while, and it's still warm."

he raised an eyebrow, his grin widening into something a little playful. “don’t mind if i do.” 

he moved closer, close enough that your shoulders almost brushed, and you set the bag down in front of you both. “dig in,” you said gesturing with your hands toward the chicken.

“so… you’re a doctor…” you said after a couple minutes of eating in silence. 

“last time i checked, yeah,” he replied, glancing over at you with a faint smile. 

“so why’d you move into this shabby building with elevators that haven’t been serviced since the stone age?” you asked, pausing to tear into a chicken wing with zero grace or subtlety.

he stared at you, and you couldn’t tell if it was because of your question or the feral way in which you were eating. 

“i’m a resident, so i don’t make nearly as much as people think. plus, med school debt is no joke. this place fit the budget.” 

“oh,” you muttered, suddenly feeling a little awkward. “sorry if that sounded kinda judgy. people tell me i’ve got a chronic case of big mouth syndrome.” 

“it’s fine,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “at least you’re honest.” 

“what about you?” he asked, tilting his head toward you. 

“me? oh same story, different font. drowning in student debt, and this place was… available,” you said, popping another wing into your mouth. 

he nodded, and after that, the conversation picked up, flowing so naturally you forgot you’d technically only been speaking to him for a week. before that you had only shared neighborly greetings in the hallway.

you didn’t even realize how much time had passed until the elevator jolted suddenly, the lights flickering back on with a low, mechanical hum. 

by then, the bag of chicken was empty, and you knew more about jaemin than you ever expected to learn in one night.

♡ ♡ ♡

“i thought elevators had some kind of emergency backup power for blackouts,” minnie said, her face pixelated on your phone screen. 

“yeah but this building’s like 60 years old,” you muttered, adjusting the camera so she could see you better. you were sitting on the floor, painting your toenails a fresh shade of lavender. “the fact that it even has an elevator is a miracle.” 

“true, true,” minnie nodded, chewing on a piece of candy. her eyes lit up suddenly. “by the way, why does your sexy doctor live there? i thought doctors were supposed to be loaded.” she propped her chin on her hand. 

“he told me he just started his residency,” you explained, blowing gently on your freshly painted nails. “and he just started a new job at the hospital. they don’t get paid that well when they’re starting out.” 

“hmm,” she hummed knowingly. “so you spend a few hours stuck in an elevator with him, and suddenly you’re an expert on the medical field, huh?” 

you rolled your eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t get stuck. “it’s called having a normal conversation, you should try it”  

“i’m just saying,” minnie teased, tossing a gummy bear into her mouth. “you went in there hiding from him, and you ended up sharing chicken and life stories. i see you.”  

“there is nothing to see,” you shot back, tossing a pillow at your phone screen like she could actually feel it.  

“mm-hmm,” she hummed, leaning forward “so, did he mention it?”  

“mention what?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.  

“the box,” she said ominously, dragging out the word like it belonged in a horror movie trailer.  

you froze. “he tried to,” you admitted, tapping your fingers on the pillow in your lap. “but i shut him down real quick.”  

“oho, look at you,” she said, leaning back impressed. “miss assertive, didn’t think you had it in you.”  

“i have more pillows to throw, minnie. don’t test me.”  

“yeah, yeah, violent tendencies aside,” she waved you off, completely immune to your threats. “i hope this new confidence means you’re finally putting my gifts to use.” she tilted her head with the most innocent smile, which made it all the more sinister.  

your face went hot. so, so hot.

“i haven’t,” you lied, voice a little too high.  

“liar,” she sang, leaning closer to the camera. “i can see your shifty eyes. you definitely tried it.”  

“okay, fine, i did!” you snapped, throwing your hands up. “but it was a disaster.”  

minnie perked up with curiosity. “oh?”  

“yeah, oh,” you repeated, scratching your head. “it just… didn’t hit. it felt weird and i got frustrated, so i just gave up. plus i don’t know where you got that vibrator from but it almost burned my girlypop”  

“rookie mistake,” she sighed shaking her head dramatically. “that’s why you need someone with experience to help you out.”  

your brows furrowed. “what are you even saying right now?”  

“i’m saying,” she grinned like the devil himself, “that you have a perfectly qualified medical professional living right next door. i’m sure dr. mcdreamy wouldn’t mind giving you a consultation.”  

you blinked once. “minnie, you’re actually sick in the head.”  

“oh, please.” she tossed her hair over her shoulder, rolling her eyes. “he’s hot, he’s single, and you’ve already done half the work. you were sitting there eating fried chicken, and you’re telling me he kept throwing compliments at you? we all know you eat chicken like a truck driver, and he still thought you were pretty. use your resources, babe.”  

“he was hungry and stuck. he was probably grateful i offered him food. what else was he supposed to do?”  

“it’s so much more than that,” she said, holding up a hand, a clear signal for you to shut up and pay attention.  “i know when a man is laying the foundation and trust me, he’s building a whole mansion with your name on it.”

“you’re fully overreacting right now.”

one of minnie's strengths was that she wasn’t one to give up easily. but that also ended up being one of her flaws. you knew for a fact she wouldn’t drop this jaemin thing until she proved he had a thing for you.

“seriously, though,” she continued, leaning in so close her face was the whole screen. “he’s a doctor which means he’s like literally obligated to help people. it’s in the oath or something.”

“your point is..?”

“you know” she raised her brows suggestively “experienced hands, medical precision, and he owes you one for that chicken dinner. it’s the perfect setup.”

“you’re insane… like actually seek help.” you shook your head, trying to sound firm, but you were laughing too much to sell it.

“i’m serious,” she laughed along, “you literally blush whenever you talk about him. oh and you can’t even say his name without smiling.”

“that’s not true,” you said, shifting your position on the couch like that would somehow make your denial more convincing.

“mmhm,” she squinted her eyes, clearly not believing you.

“and for the record,” you added, jabbing your finger at the screen, “not every attractive man i meet is getting sexualized in my head. i’m not a beast.”

“no, you’re just a liar,” she shot back with a wide grin. “be real for like two seconds. i can see you smiling so hard right now.”  

“you can’t see anything,” you said, voice sharper now. “it’s the pixelation. your wifi is ass.”

“nice try,” she said, drawing out the words. “i know a bashful grin when i see one.”

“you stress me out,” you muttered, twisting the cap back on your nail polish with a little too much force.

“and yet, you call me every day.” she propped her chin on her palm, smile pure menace.

“i guess i’m a masochist,” you sighed, leaning back on the couch. “tragic, really.”

“mmhm, tragic is right,” she said, eyes narrowing into little crescents. “because now i’m gonna be your maid of honor at this wedding i didn’t even prepare for.”

“goodbye, minnie,” you deadpanned, reaching for the end call button.

“goodbye, future mrs. mcdreamy.” she winked at the camera, and before you could curse her out, she hung up.  

you sat there for a second, staring at your phone’s home screen, lips pressed tight.  

delusional.

she was delusional.

but that didn’t stop you from thinking about jaemin’s stupid grin. the way he’d looked at you while eating fried chicken, casual but present, like he was really there in the moment with you. the way his eyes lingered, just for a second too long.  

you shook your head, shoving the thought away like minnie’s words had wormed their way into your subconscious.  

nope.

you capped the nail polish, shoved your phone aside, and focused on literally anything else.  

♡ ♡ ♡

over the next few days, something shifted. not in a big, dramatic way but in a way you could feel.  

jaemin wasn’t just the polite neighbor you exchanged pleasantries with in the hall anymore. now, every time you saw him, there was this unspoken acknowledgment hanging in the air like: we shared fried chicken in a broken elevator for three hours.

 this new attitude towards you was giving you whiplash. he was… extra friendly now. he smiled more, spoke to you first, acted like you were both in on some kind of inside joke. it wasn’t bad… but it wasn’t normal either.  

“morning, y/n,” he’d say as you both waited for the elevator, eyes crinkling like he’d already thought of something funny.   

“morning,” you’d reply, your gaze locked firmly on the floor. the tiles were suddenly fascinating. 

but then you’d catch the faintest trace of his cologne—the same one you’d inhaled way too much of in the elevator—and suddenly, the tiles weren’t so interesting anymore. so you’d try to sneak a glance or two, and when he wore his doctor’s coat and glasses, you couldn’t help but ogle. he was so ridiculously handsome. everything about him practically begged for you to admire. his sharp jawline, his dark eyes framed by impossibly long lashes, his lips always pink and effortlessly moisturized, his hair neatly trimmed in the back but just a bit longer in the front, falling perfectly right above his thick brows.

and he had the most captivating smile, so white it almost blinded you, and despite thinking he was the serious type at first, you quickly realized he was incredibly expressive. he communicated so much with just his brows, and it seemed impossible for him to speak without a subtle smile tugging at the corners of his lips. like what was so funny? that you were crushing hard on him and it was kind of disrupting your life?

he was also too relaxed around you. way too relaxed. how was he so calm when he’d seen you in your most unhinged states? meanwhile, you could still feel the ghost of that moment hovering over you like a neon sign flashing "dildo girl spotted."

the third time you ran into him that week, you almost turned around to take the stairs, but you weren’t fast enough.  

“caught you,” jaemin said as soon as he spotted you, his grin sharp but not unkind. “thinking of bailing on me?”  

you paused like you were actually considering it. “don’t flatter yourself,” you said, walking forward like you’d planned to all along. “the stairs are just bad for my knees.”  

“oh, is that right?” he asked, stepping aside with a sweep of his hand. "good thing elevators exist, huh?”  

“lucky me,” you muttered, slipping inside. he followed right after, too close for comfort but not close enough to call him out on it.  

“lucky me,” he added, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, head tilted just so. "would’ve missed you otherwise."  

you had to bite back the cough that almost escaped when he said that, his lazy smile firmly in place like always.

you glanced at him, squinting. "what's with you lately?"  

“what do you mean?”  

“this,” you gestured at him vaguely. “all this… talking. you weren’t like this before.”  

“maybe i just needed an excuse,” he said with a nonchalant shrug “and three hours in an elevator with you was a pretty good one.”  

you blinked, momentarily at a loss. what were you even supposed to say to that?  

“did you rehearse that?,” you muttered, turning away before he could see the corner of your mouth twitch.  

“why, is it too corny? but you’re smiling,” he pointed out, you could hear his smile.

“no, i’m not.”  

“you are,” he said confidently, leaning in just a little like he was trying to see it up close. “it’s cute.”  

you flinched back, eyes wide. “don’t say that.”  

“why not?” he grinned wider, clearly pleased with himself. “it’s true.”  

“oh my god.” you turned so far away from him it was a miracle you didn’t phase through the wall. “stop talking.”  

“can’t,” he said, all too happy to keep going. “we’re closer now. shared chicken trauma and all that.”  

“that is not a thing.”  

“it is,” he nodded confidently. “you can’t just sit in a powerless elevator with someone for hours and pretend you’re strangers afterward. that’s, like, scientifically impossible.”  

“scientifically impossible?” you repeated, eyebrows raised. “you’re making things up.”  

“and here you are listening to all of it,” he shot back, tilting his head toward you, his gaze a little too sharp. 

checkmate.

you opened your mouth, ready to respond, but your brain was buffering.. 

"that’s what i thought," he said, his voice low and too satisfied, just as the elevator dinged.  

the doors opened. he didn’t move right away, gaze lingering on you as if he was waiting for something…or maybe just seeing how long you’d hold it.  

“you talk too much,” you muttered, stepping out with your head high like you had the upper hand.  

“I think you like it,” he called after you, the amusement in his voice so obvious you could practically hear the grin on his face.  

your heart did that annoying skip thing, and this time, you didn’t have an excuse for it.  

♡ ♡ ♡

things only got worse after that.  

jaemin, apparently, had decided that you were fun to mess with now.

he wasn’t over-the-top about it, though. no, he was too smooth for that. he played it cool, weaving little comments and actions into your interactions. a smile that lingered too long, leaning in just a little too close when he asked a question, throwing casual compliments like they didn’t mean anything.  

it was unfair, really. he’d gone from the quiet, polite neighbor, the one who worked long shifts at the hospital and mostly kept to himself,  to an actual menace in the span of three days. and somehow, you were the target of all of it.

the first time it happened, you brushed it off as coincidence. the second time, you thought maybe he was just being nice because you shared food with him so perhaps he thought that he owed you. by the third time, you realized: this man was having fun at your expense.

“new hair?” he asked casually one evening as you struggled with your keys outside your door.  

you froze, glancing up at him in confusion. “what?”  

“your hair,” he repeated, nodding toward you. “looks good.”  

your brows furrowed. “it’s the same as always,” you muttered, turning back to the lock that was absolutely refusing to cooperate.  

“huh.” he tilted his head, as if he were genuinely surprised. “then i guess it’s just you.”  

what does that even mean?!

your hands fumbled, and the key slipped from your fingers, clattering to the floor.  

jaemin’s laugh was soft but unmistakably amused. “you okay there?”  

“don’t you have patients to save or something?” you snapped, crouching down to snatch the key off the ground before he even had the chance to get it for you.

“off duty,” he shrugged, leaning against the wall next to you. his smile had that easy confidence you were beginning to associate with him now. “but i’ll step in if you need medical attention. emotional support counts too.”  

you groaned so loud it echoed in the hallway. “i swear, i liked you better when you were quiet.”  

“oh, you like me?” he asked, his grin widening just enough to make your stomach flip in protest.  

“past tense,” you shot back, finally shoving the key into the lock and turning it with more force than necessary.  

“if you say so,” he replied, drawing out the word like he didn’t believe you for a second.  

“you’re insufferable,” you muttered, turning around with your key in hand, gripping it like a weapon. “how do you live with yourself?”  

“one day at a time,” he replied, dead serious.

you shot him a glare as you finally shoved the key into the lock. it turned smoothly this time.  

“maybe you should try it,” he added, just as you opened the door.  

“try what?” you asked, already regretting engaging.  

“living with me,” he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world. he even had the audacity to wink.  

you nearly slammed the door in his face.  

“goodnight, jaemin,” you snapped, stepping inside.  

“sweet dreams, love,” he called after you, his voice warm and smug in a way that lingered.  

you closed the door, locked it, and leaned your head against it with a groan that could only be described as deep emotional fatigue.

“then i guess it’s just you.”

you stayed pressed against the door for a little too long, thinking about it.  

he’s the worst.

the absolute worst.

♡ ♡ ♡

then came the visiting.  

you heard a quiet, rhythmic knock knock knock on your door one night. not frantic, not loud just steady enough to make you pause in the middle of scrolling through your phone.  

you frowned. minnie wasn’t the “surprise visit” type, and you definitely hadn’t ordered food. so who…  

when you opened the door, he was right there. 

jaemin.

he leaned against the doorframe, one arm propped against it, the other tucked into his pocket. his posture was relaxed, but his eyes sparkled with that familiar glint of mischief.

“what do you want?” you asked, gripping the door like it was a shield between you and whatever ridiculousness he was about to say.  

“so rude,” he said, mock-offended, though the lazy grin on his face betrayed him. “you invite a guy to share fried chicken once, and suddenly you’re heartless?”  

“oh, please.” you stepped back slightly, but you didn’t close the door. “i offered it. don’t act like i saved you from a tragic famine.”  

“true,” he agreed, his gaze dropping for a split second, flickering over you like he was trying to catch you off guard. “but since you brought it up, i was thinking about how we never got dessert.”  

you blinked, thrown off by the randomness. “what?”  

“dessert,” he repeated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “fried chicken’s great and all, but it’s not a complete meal. we missed out.”  

“and what, you came to my door at 9 pm to tell me that?”  

“yep.” he rocked back on his heels, completely unbothered. “i figured you owed me by now.”  

“owed you?” you repeated, narrowing your eyes. “for what, exactly?”  

“emotional support,” he said, grinning like he’d been waiting for you to ask. “that elevator ride? life-changing experience. bonded for life. it’s only fair you buy me dessert.”  

you tried to fight it. you really did. but the laugh slipped out anyway, betraying you.  

his grin widened, the kind that wasn’t just smug… it was triumphant.  

“fine,” you sighed, grabbing your phone off the counter. “but you’re paying next time.”  

“next time?” he echoed, his voice tilting upward just slightly. he leaned forward, close enough that the space between you suddenly felt smaller. “so you’re already planning our next elevator date?”  

oh, this man.

“don’t push your luck,” you muttered, pointing a finger at him while you tapped through your food delivery app. “i might close the door on your face next time.”  

“you like me too much to do that,” he said softly, and this time his tone wasn’t teasing.  

it was smooth, confident, and just low enough to make you glance up without thinking.  

your thumb hovered over your screen for a second too long before you forced yourself to break eye contact. you picked the first dessert you saw just to escape the moment and right before you got to pay he snatched the phone from you and put in his card details.

“so annoying,” you muttered.  

“gentlemanly,” he replied easily.

“you’re lucky i’m too tired to throw you out,” you shot back, already regretting how much you were letting him get away with.  

“lucky?” he asked, smirking. “i’d say you’re the lucky one. who else brings dessert and great company?”  

you groaned, loudly, just to drown him out.  

♡ ♡ ♡

thirty minutes later, you were sitting side by side on your couch, barely an inch between you, sharing a container of chocolate lava cake like it was the most natural thing in the world.  

“don’t hog it,” you grumbled, jabbing at his hand with your spoon when he took an extra-large bite.  

“it’s called portion control,” he argued, entirely unapologetic as he went for another.  

“it’s called stealing,” you shot back, scooping up a bigger piece just to even the playing field.  

“maybe,” he said, glancing at you with that maddening grin. “but you’re letting me get away with it.”  

“only because i don’t want to waste food,” you countered, though your voice lacked the conviction you wanted it to have.  

he leaned back slightly, his shoulder brushing against yours in a way that felt too casual to be an accident.  

“you’re really bad at lying, you know that?” he said, his voice dropping just enough to make you pause.  

you turned to glare at him, spoon still in hand, but the words caught in your throat when you saw the way he was looking at you.  

he wasn’t grinning anymore. not exactly.  

it wasn’t a smirk or a joke or one of those teasing little quips he always threw your way. it was… softer. almost curious.  

your heart stuttered before you could stop it.  

“and you’re annoying,” you said again, but this time it came out quieter.  

his lips twitched, like he was holding back a laugh.  

“you already said that but i think it loses meaning when you let me hang out with you for this long,”  he murmured.  

you didn’t reply. you couldn’t. not when the air felt so… different.  

so instead, you turned back to the TV, grabbed another spoonful of lava cake, and shoved it into your mouth as an excuse to not say anything.  

he chuckled softly, the sound barely audible over the hum of the TV.  

♡ ♡ ♡

the next few days went by pretty much the same. whenever you bumped into jaemin in the hallway, the parking lot, or even at the local cafe, his eyes would lock on you like a heat-seeking missile, ready to tease you in a way that you hated to admit was starting to feel oddly enjoyable.

but everything escalated the day minnie came to visit you.

it had been a while since you two last saw each other, given that she lived in a different city. as soon as she arrived, you were buzzing with excitement. but you’d forgotten one crucial thing… minnie had a rare, borderline supernatural ability to drive you absolutely insane.

“i can't believe you had a second chicken date with him and still didn’t jump his bones… have i taught you nothing?” she said, exasperated as she popped a handful of popcorn into her mouth. dawson’s creek reruns were playing in the background, and as if that show didn’t depress you enough, minnie’s relentless criticism of your non-existent love life was making it worse.

“it wasn’t a chicken date,” you groaned. “we had cake. and why would i jump his bones when we’ve only just started speaking more than two words to each other like, last week?”

“you don’t get it,” minnie said, turning to face you with the gravity of someone about to lecture you. “a man doesn’t just knock on your door asking you to have dessert with him unless he has a different idea of what 'dessert' is.” she raised her eyebrows suggestively.

“ew, don’t make that face,” you winced. 

“i’m serious, y/n. if you keep shutting down every man that’s interested in you, the only dick you’ll get is that inflatable one i got you.”

“not even,” you sighed, slumping against the couch. “i haven’t taken it out of the box yet. and i won’t. that thing already embarrassed me enough for the next two lifetimes.”

“but if you think about it, if it weren’t for tom, you’d still be secretly crushing on dr. mcdreamy.”

“you did not just name the sex doll tom,” you said, eyes narrowing.

“i think we should at least go out tonight since you’re clearly not gonna put the moves on your sexy neighbor.”

“absolutely not,” you shook your head, pulling the blanket tighter around you. “ i’m not about to waste my night talking to any guy who thinks 'intellectual debate' means arguing about protein powder.”

“okay, harsh… no wonder you’re single,” she muttered as she got up and started tapping away on her phone.

“who’re you calling?” you asked, squinting at her suspiciously.

“there’s only one person who can drag you out of this apartment,” she muttered with a sly grin. "hold on—hello? jake? yeah, guess who i’m with right now?" she paused dramatically, glancing at you with a wicked smile. "your favorite girl, obviously!" she snickered, tilting her phone just enough to snap a photo of you mid-protest. 

“dude, c’mon, i’m in my grandma pjs right now,” you said, pointing at the flowery pajama top you were wearing.

“how about we meet up at the neo club? yeah? awesome, and bring one of your hot friends,” she added, grinning like a cat that just cornered a bird.

she hung up, looking triumphant, but you folded your arms with a scowl.

“there’s no way i’m going out,” you said flatly.

♡ ♡ ♡

you still ended up going out.

but only because they offered to pay for all your drinks, and who were you to refuse such a generous offer?

it didn’t take long to spot jake. he was already stirring up trouble at the bar, his charm dialed up to 100 as he leaned in close, tossing out some line that had the bartender blushing so hard she had to look away just to keep it together.

“ugh, casanovas make me sick,” you grumbled, scrunching your nose as you watched him.

“stop harassing the lady, jake,” minnie said, grabbing him by the collar and tugging him away from the bar. he turned around with a mock-offended gasp.

“excuse you, she was absolutely enjoying that,” he said with an infuriating level of confidence. he wasn’t even wrong—the bartender was still grinning.

“whatever, tiger. look who’s out of her cave!” minnie announced, shoving you forward slightly.

jake’s eyes lit up the second he saw you. he practically lunged forward, wrapping you in a bear hug and lifting you off the ground.

“no way! my y/n! it’s been, what, four years since i last saw you?” he spun you in a small circle before finally setting you down.

“please don’t be so dramatic. we saw each other last year on your birthday,” you laughed, shoving his chest.

“too long for me, babe. you know seeing you is always a treat,” he said, giving you one of those overly saccharine smiles he knew would make you roll your eyes.

“when are you ever not flirting? is that your default mode? is there any way to reset you?” you said, tapping his forehead like you were trying to reboot a broken phone.

“you know you love it,” he winked, and somehow it was both annoying and charming at the same time.

“anyways, where are the drinks i was promised?” you extended a hand expectantly.

“here you go, princess,” he said, handing you a tequila sunrise with a flourish. “and here you go, troll,” he added, handing minnie a margarita.

“i’ll kill you,” minnie slapped his arm hard enough to make him flinch.

“ow, abuse! abuse!” he cried dramatically, clutching his arm as if he’d been mortally wounded.

“you’ll live,” minnie muttered, taking a sip from her glass.

the night was already off to a wild start, and you had a sinking feeling it was only going to get worse.

♡ ♡ ♡

“so you’re telling me the box with all the freaky shit minnie sent ended up being delivered to your neighbor?” jake was practically doubled over, clutching his stomach from laughing so hard. “and he opened it?”

“yeah, laugh it up,” you said, unamused as you swirled the straw in your drink before taking a long sip. you’d lost count of how many drinks you’d had, but the warmth in your chest and the slight buzz in your head told you it was definitely more than a couple.

“if i were you, i would’ve moved,” he said, wiping at the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. “i’m trying to think of a time i’ve been that embarrassed and not even my drunkest moments come close.” he shook his head like he genuinely felt bad for you, though the grin on his face said otherwise.

“believe me, i tried to avoid him,” you said, gesturing with your drink in hand. “but somehow, after that, he started sticking to me like gum on a shoe.”

“i’m telling you, he wants you!” minnie slurred, her eyes barely staying focused as she swayed slightly in her seat. clearly, she was the drunkest one at the table, her words carrying that telltale wobble of too many cocktails.

“don’t start with that again,” you shot back, tossing a napkin in her direction. “he doesn’t want me. he just likes messing with me because he figured out i’m an easy target.”

“oh, really?” she said, eyes narrowing like she’d just come up with the most brilliant plan. “then call him right now. and if he answers, put him on speaker.”

“like hell i will,” you snorted, glancing at your phone. “it’s-” you checked the time “…literally 3am. why would i disturb him just to prove your silly little theories?”

“coward! coward!” minnie started chanting, slapping the table. jake immediately caught on and joined her, their voices syncing up in a way that only drunk friends could manage. “coward! y/n is a chicken!” they sang in unison, making sure to drag out the last word obnoxiously.

“ugh, why do i have friends like you two…” you muttered, covering your ears as their chanting grew louder. “okay! fine! stop that right now, i’ll text him. once.” you jabbed a finger in the air for emphasis, giving them both a stern glare that did absolutely nothing to dim their excitement.

“what do i even say…” you groaned, staring at your empty chat with jaemin.

“send him a picture,” jake suggested.

you thought about it for a second, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “fine,” you muttered, lifting your phone. fueled by alcohol and peer pressure, you decided on the classic "oops, wrong person" strategy. you snapped a quick selfie, pursing your lips into a kissy face for maximum effect. you didn’t even care that it was blurry or that you looked very obviously drunk. in fact, that made it funnier. you snickered to yourself as you hit send.

“he won’t reply, guys,” you said confidently, tossing your phone onto the table face-down. but barely ten seconds passed before you heard the unmistakable ping of a new message.

“you were saying?” minnie arched a brow, crossing her arms in mock satisfaction.

“it’s probably just some random notification,” you said with a shrug, but your voice wavered as you picked up your phone. you tapped the screen, eyes widening slightly at the name that appeared.

jaemin neighbor (3:02am): ‘thought you weren’t one to party hard?’ 

the message was punctuated with a little smirk emoji that somehow made it worse.

“what’d he say?” minnie asked, leaning in so far you thought she might topple over.

you barely had time to answer before another message popped up.

jaemin neighbor (3:03am): ‘don’t drink too much though, you’re still recovering from that cold. and don’t let strangers hold your drink.’

your eyes stayed glued to the screen, heart doing an odd little flip that you refused to acknowledge. 

“oh my god, he’s worried,” minnie gasped, hands flying to her face. “he’s literally whipped!” she squealed, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you back and forth with unhinged glee.

♡ ♡ ♡

after seeing jaemin's message, you decided you needed to get drunker to drown out the thoughts swirling in your head. by the time you got back to the apartment, your uber driver had to practically haul you out of the car. you were a complete mess, your feet barely cooperating with the ground beneath you. minnie ended up hitting it off with jake’s friend so she decided to leave with him to do god knows what dirty things.

“woah there!” you yelped as you stumbled, nearly falling backward.

“ma’am, what’s your apartment number?” the driver asked. all you could do was laugh and mumble some random string of numbers that didn’t come close to making sense.

“y/n?” a familiar voice cut through the fog in your mind, sharp and clear like a bell. it almost sobered you up on the spot. he was wearing his scrubs and his tired appearance told you that he was coming back from a long shift.

“mr. doctor is here!” you announced with unrestrained glee, throwing your arms up. the sudden movement made you lose balance, and you tilted sideways bumping into the driver.

“you know her, sir?” he asked, his forehead shiny with sweat, clearly desperate for an exit out of this.

“uhm, yeah, she’s my next-door neighbor. i’ll take it from here, thanks,” jaemin said, stepping in with the calm authority of someone who’s seen this exact scenario a dozen times before. with zero effort, he crouched down and hoisted you onto his back, his hands steady under your thighs to keep you secure.

“wheee!” you squealed, your cheek smushed against the back of his head.

“hold on tight, yeah?” he muttered, his tone dry but fond as he adjusted his grip on your legs.

inside the elevator, you got bold. maybe it was the tequila, maybe it was just you accepting your undeniable attraction to jaemin, but your hands found their way to his arms. you gave his biceps an experimental squeeze and then hummed, thoroughly impressed. “do all doctors got big, muscular arms or just you?” you asked, squeezing again as if conducting a very important scientific investigation.

jaemin’s lips twitched, like he was fighting back a smile. “do you always get this touchy when you’re drunk?” he replied, shifting you slightly higher on his back.

“oh wow, you smell so good,” you said, burying your nose in his hair. “like… like one of those fancy candles you’re not supposed to light cause they’re too expensive.” you giggled against his head, completely oblivious to the way his ears flushed pink at the compliment.

“i told you not to drink too much,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “this is dangerous, you know.”

“sorryyyyyy,” you whined, dragging out the word. “but you know what they say about alcohol… uh, ‘wine before whiskey, you’re feelin’ frisky’?” you squinted, clearly thinking very hard.

jaemin tilted his head, giving you a side-eye full of disbelief and amusement. “that’s absolutely not the saying,” he said, his voice low and warm with a hint of laughter.

“no?” you pouted. “then it’s… ‘drinks before thoughts, memories get lost!’” you declared with absolute confidence.

he let out a full, genuine laugh, his shoulders shaking under you as he carried you down the hallway. “close enough,” he muttered.

♡ ♡ ♡

in front of your door, you squinted at the digital lock like it had personally wronged you. you pressed one button, then another, and frowned when the screen blinked angrily. your brain felt like it had been stuffed with cotton, and trying to remember your code right was harder than trying to solve a riddle while underwater. 

“ugh, whatever,” you groaned, letting out an exaggerated sigh before plopping down on the floor, legs sprawled out.

“what are you doing?” jaemin's voice came from above, and when you tilted your head back, you saw him crouched in front of you, eyebrows raised.

“can’t remember the code, so m’ sleeping here. duh,” you replied with the kind of lazy confidence and lack of urgency only drunk people have. you reached out and booped him on the nose simply because he looked cute like a bunny in your inebriated mind.

he blinked, clearly thrown, before a grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “no, you’re not,” he said, shaking his head. he stood up, offering his hand. “come on.”

“ugh, fiiine,” you groaned, letting him pull you up, though you were basically dead weight. he slipped an arm around your waist to steady you, and the warmth of his hand pressed against the bare skin where your shirt had ridden up. the touch was casual but it sent a sharp jolt of awareness through you. 

you bit your lip to distract yourself from the sudden rush of heat. blame it on the alcohol. definitely the alcohol. 

“i never sleep in a guy’s apartment ‘til…” you held up your hand and started counting on your fingers, lips moving as you mumbled to yourself. “like the 6th date.” 

“that so?” jaemin glanced at you, his voice raspy in a way that made something flip in your stomach. 

“mmhm,” you hummed, leaning your weight against him. “gotta have rules, y’know? safety first.” 

“you’re not wrong,” he replied, guiding you toward his door with slow, careful steps. “but that logic’s got a flaw, don’t you think?” 

you squinted up at him, skeptical. “what flaw?” 

“you’re here with me, and we’re not even on date three,” he said simply, giving you a pointed look. 

you tried to ignore the fact that he considered the elevator and that night at your apartment as dates.

“that’s different,” you countered, waving a hand like that somehow made you right. 

he glanced down at you, eyes sharp but soft in the way they flickered across your face. “how?” 

you blinked, suddenly too aware of the space between you two — or the lack of it. his arm was firm around your waist, and you could feel the rise and fall of his breathing. 

“you tell me, doc,” you muttered, avoiding his eyes. 

there was a brief silence, just the quiet hum of the hallway lights and the soft shuffle of your feet. his fingers curled slightly against your hip, the pressure grounding but gentle. when he spoke again, his tone had shifted — quieter, steadier. 

“i’d never do anything to hurt you,” he said, voice sure like a promise. his eyes met yours, serious in a way that knocked the air right out of your lungs. 

you didn’t have a quick comeback for that one. 

he held your gaze for a moment longer before clearing his throat, eyes flicking away. “anyway,” he said, his voice back to its usual steady calm, “you can sit for a bit. i’ll get you some tea and food, sober you up.” 

“huh?” you blinked, your tipsy mind still trying to catch up after that intense moment you just shared. 

“sit,” he repeated, guiding you toward the couch like you were a stubborn cat. “tea. food. you’ll thank me later.” 

you flopped onto the couch with zero grace, still buzzing from everything.

your head was throbbing, but that wasn’t half as uncomfortable as the rapid thumping of your heart against your chest. it wasn’t normal. it couldn’t be normal. you pressed a hand to your chest like that might somehow slow it down.  

“what is this…” you muttered under your breath, tilting your head back against the couch. 

you were spiraling, no doubt about it. overthinking everything. it’s just jaemin, you reminded yourself. your neighbor. your kind neighbor. of course he’d say stuff like that. he’s a good person, and good people say things like "i’d never hurt you" all the time, right? it didn’t mean anything. didn’t mean a single thing. 

calm down, y/n.

you blew out a slow breath, trying to trick your heart into believing you were unbothered. 

jaemin came back moments later, a cup of tea in one hand and a small plate of buttered toast in the other. he’d ditched his jacket, now in just a fitted black t-shirt and scrub pants. you weren’t sure what was more distracting… the way the fabric clung to his chest and arms, or the way the veins in his forearms stood out as he set the plate down. you stared a little too long, gaze following the flex of his muscles.  

he’s just a guy, you thought, just a guy with arms that look like they were carved out of marble. 

“okay, drink this,” he said, nudging the tea toward you. his voice had slipped into his "doctor tone", soft but firm, like he fully expected to be obeyed. “you’ll feel better. if you feel dizzy or like you’re gonna throw up, let me know. i’ll go shower real quick, and you can shower after.”  

he disappeared into his room before you could respond

you sat there for a second, letting the silence settle around you. without him there, you finally took a proper look at his place. it was weirdly nice for a building as old and shabby as this one. sleek, modern furniture, spotless floors, a faint scent of something woodsy and clean. candles lined the windowsill, and he had an at-home gym tucked neatly in one corner. 

of course he does, you thought, he’s probably too busy saving lives to hit a real gym. 

you bit your lip, remembering the way his arms had felt around your waist. the heat of his skin seeping through the fabric of your shirt. and now, after seeing how built he actually was, it was starting to make a lot more sense. 

“ugh, stop it,” you muttered, shaking your head. it was just the alcohol messing with you. that, and the fact that you were definitely ovulating because there was no way you’d be acting like this otherwise. the combination was lethal. 

you reached for the tea, eager for something to snap you out of your head, but the second you took a sip— 

“ah—!” you yelped, dropping the cup. hot liquid splashed onto the floor, the mug clattering after it. thankfully, it missed your legs but your tongue throbbed like you’d just bitten into molten lava. 

“shit,” you hissed, sticking your tongue out like that might cool it down. 

“what happened?” jaemin’s voice came from the bathroom, sharp with concern.  

“‘s fine!” you tried to call back, but with your tongue still stinging, it came out garbled. “ihz ohkaay!” 

the sound of the shower stopped. you barely had a second to panic before jaemin burst into the living room, dripping wet, a loose towel slung dangerously low on his hips.  

you froze. 

oh.

oh my god.

if this were an anime, you’d have shot out a nosebleed so powerful it’d blast you into another dimension.  

“what happened?” he asked, eyes darting to the mess on the floor, then back to you. he crouched beside you, eyes scanning you likely looking for injuries. water dripped from his hair, trailing down the sharp planes of his face, his chest, his abs… 

his abs.

your gaze locked on the V-line that dipped beneath the edge of his towel, and your brain short-circuited. every coherent thought you’d ever had dissolved on the spot. you didn’t even realize you’d spoken aloud until you heard your own voice. 

“oh my god.”  

jaemin blinked, eyebrows drawing together in worry. “what?” 

“n-nothing!” you stammered, face heating faster than the tea had. you slapped a hand over your eyes like that might erase the image from your mind. it did not. it was burned in.

he frowned, his puppy-dog concern on full display. “i’m sorry, i should’ve warned you the tea was hot.” his gaze shifted to your tongue, still sticking out as you tried to cool it with air. his frown deepened. 

“izzokay,” you said, or at least tried to. with your tongue swollen and numb, it sounded more like “iz okeh, iz my fauwt.”  

“hold on,” he said, his tone dropping into doctor mode. “stay put. you might cut yourself on the glass.”  

he moved with quick precision, ducking into the kitchen and coming back with a towel and some paper towels to clean up. you, unfortunately, had nothing to do but sit there and watch him. and watch him you did.  

the way his muscles shifted under his skin with every movement. the flex of his back, the dip of his hips, the subtle pull of his abs as he crouched to pick up shards of glass. you sat there like a fool, cheeks blazing, unable to look away.  

he could model for anatomy textbooks, you thought, completely mesmerized. like, imagine turning to page 47 and seeing this man labeled as "muscular system: front view."

every part of him moved with that annoying grace certain people just had. the kind of grace that was only possible when you were stupidly, unfairly attractive.  

he wiped the floor clean and tossed the paper towels aside, giving one final glance at the spot to make sure there wasn’t a single shard left behind. then he turned to you.  

“all clear,” he said, standing to his full height. the towel on his hips slipped slightly lower, and your gaze shot to the ceiling so fast you almost got whiplash.  

“thanks,” you muttered, trying to keep your eyes anywhere but there. you still saw it in your peripheral vision. 

he tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “you sure you’re okay?” 

am i okay? absolutely not. your tongue was burnt, your pride was in pieces, and your brain was playing a slow-motion highlight reel of his abs. you were the furthest thing from okay.  

“yep,” you croaked, voice cracking at the end. 

“here you go,” he said, handing you a glass of cold water. “it should help your tongue.”

“thanks,” you mumbled, cradling the glass with both hands. you refused to look directly at him, eyes darting everywhere in the room. the slow drip of condensation on the glass suddenly became the most fascinating thing in the world.

“are you hot? you’re sweating,” he asked, leaning forward, his gaze landing on you with that soft concern he wore too easily.

you nearly spat the water back out. of course you were hot. this whole situation was hot. the room was hot. he was hot.

“it’s fine,” you blurted, shaking your head a little too quickly. “i’ll just shower.”

“yeah, sure. go ahead,” he said, nodding toward the hallway. “bathroom’s the door on the left.”

he glanced down at you, eyes flickering over your dress just briefly. instinctively, you tugged at the hem like that would magically make it longer. you should’ve known minnie was setting you up when she called this look “casually dangerous.”

“your clothes…” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. “they don’t look super comfortable to sleep in, so if you want, i can lend you something.”

there was no reason for your heart to leap into your throat the way it did. it was a normal offer. a completely normal, helpful offer. but your brain decided to be weird about it. suddenly, you were picturing yourself in one of his shirts, fabric hanging loose on you, the scent of detergent and him faintly clinging to it. god, you needed help.

“okay,” you said, trying to sound normal, but it came out too fast.

“i’ll grab them for you,” he said, already heading toward his room.

as soon as he disappeared, you collapsed against the couch, exhaling hard like you’d just survived a boss fight. you dragged your hands down your face, letting out a muffled groan.

“pull it together,” you hissed at yourself.

walking into the bathroom didn’t help. the warmth hit you instantly, soft steam curling in the air. it smelled like aftershave and clean skin, and if there was a single coherent thought left in your brain, it got drowned out by the sensory overload.

“seriously?” you muttered under your breath, tilting your head back with a groan. “what am i, thirteen?”

the mirror was fogged up, so you wiped at it with your sleeve, only to be faced with your own reflection staring back at you like girl, really? you pressed your hands to your cheeks, feeling the warmth that had nothing to do with the steam.

“i’m normal,” you announced firmly to no one but yourself.

except you weren’t, and you knew it. it wasn’t just the alcohol making your brain short-circuit anymore. you were sober now, and this was just you being ridiculous. the neatly folded clothes on the counter didn’t help. a plain white shirt and a pair of sweatpants sat there, fresh and clean.

you eyed the sweatpants, then glanced down at your legs, already knowing how this was gonna play out. still, you gave it a shot, pulling them up your legs after taking a (very) long shower. unsurprisingly, they swallowed you whole, the cuffs dragging behind you. yeah, no. you’d trip over yourself in less than a minute. sighing, you snatched up the shirt instead and pulled it over your head. it slipped down past your hips, the sleeves flopping well past your hands, turning them into little paw-like stubs.

“this will have to do,” you decided with a sharp nod to yourself.

when you finally stepped out of the bathroom, jaemin was lounging on the couch, scrolling on his phone. his gaze flickered up at you, and for a split second, he just blinked, eyes tracking down your frame before quickly darting back to his phone.

“where are the pants?” he asked, lips quirking up just slightly at the corner.

“too big,” you said. 

“hmm” he hummed, looking up and letting his gaze drag just a little slower this time, eyes sharp with mischief. his tongue pressed against his cheek, a lopsided grin threatening to break free. “i see”

if your heart was pounding before, it was in full percussion solo mode now. but you just flopped down beside him, acting like everything was cool, like you weren’t hyperaware of every inch of bare skin peeking out from under the too-big shirt.

you glanced at the clock on the wall — 4:30 a.m. blinked back at you in dim red light. too late to be awake but too early to call it morning. your eyes shifted to jaemin, and you could see the weight of exhaustion hanging on him. his blinks were slower, his body slouched deeper into the couch cushions.  

“jaem…” the nickname slipped out without warning, soft but certain. his eyes lifted to you immediately.

“you can go to sleep. i’m fine,” you said with a small smile, hoping it was convincing. “and… thank you. for everything. you’re too nice to me.”

his gaze lingered on you, steady and unguarded, like he was committing you to memory. then, his lips curved slowly into a smile. not his usual teasing grin but something gentler, sweeter. it hit you square in the chest, and you had to physically fight the urge to lean forward and kiss him.  

you did not win that fight.

instead, you moved on instinct… leaning in and wrapping your arms around him. the moment you did, you panicked. it felt stiff, clumsy, like you’d misread the whole situation. you were just about to pull away when his arms slid around your waist, slow but sure.  

he pulled you in, pulled you all the way in, until you were practically draped over him. your breath caught in your throat, heart thudding so hard you swore he could feel it.  

his head dipped down, face tucked into the curve of your neck. the warmth of his breath hit your skin in soft bursts, and his hold on you tightened just a little more.  

“it’s my pleasure,” he murmured, voice low and raspier than it had been all night. his lips brushed against your collarbone as he spoke, “always.”

good god, you nearly let out a sound you’d never be able to live down. every nerve in your body was on high alert. it had been so long since you’d been held like this.

his nose nudged against your neck lazily. you felt the butterflies in your stomach riot, wings frantic against your ribs.  

“jaem…” you said, but it came out too soft, too breathless to sound like an actual warning.  

“you smell good,” he muttered, voice all sleep and satisfaction. “you always smell good.” he breathed you in.

lord, have mercy.

“i think we should both sleep,” you murmured, but neither of you moved. neither of you even thought about moving.  

“yeah,” he said, voice low and uneven.  

“yeah,” you echoed, but it sounded less like agreement and more like an excuse for staying right where you were.  

he pulled back just enough to look at you, but his arms stayed firmly around your waist. his eyes flickered down to your lips. on reflex, you wet them with a quick swipe of your tongue, suddenly self-conscious. his gaze darkened and you swore you felt the shift in the air.  

“stop me,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

but stopping him didn’t even cross your mind. not when he was looking at you like that. not when his face inched closer, closer…

his lips met yours softly at first, hesitant, like he was waiting for you to decide. you decided quickly. your hands slipped into his hair, pulling him in as you kissed him back with everything you’d been holding in all night.  

he responded instantly. his hand cupped the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair to hold you in place, deepening the kiss until it wasn’t soft anymore.

his other hand found your hip, gripping you firmly as he shifted you on top of him, his touch guiding you like he knew exactly where he wanted you to be. dangerous. this was so, so dangerous. 

because you were only wearing that stupidly oversized shirt and the flimsy scrap of underwear underneath it. and when you settled fully onto his lap, you felt everything.

he must’ve felt it too, because his breath stuttered, and a needy groan escaped him, muffled against your lips. you felt it vibrate through your whole body, made you shiver as if he’d pressed his mouth to your spine instead.  

his hand on your hip squeezed, fingers digging in just a little harder. 

the kiss grew messier, wetter, breaths and tongues tangled together in a way that felt far past the point of no return. it didn’t help that his other hand left your neck, sliding down, fingertips trailing along your side before slipping under the hem of the shirt.  

his hand slid up and up until…

he froze the second he realized. his palm pressed against bare skin, no bra, no barrier. you felt his breath hitch at the same moment you heard it.  

“fuck,” he groaned into your mouth, his voice rougher now, heavier. his fingers spread wide, covering as much skin as he could reach, his palm warm and steady against your ribs.  

and when his thumb brushed up, grazing just barely under the curve of your breast, the sound you made was far too needy. his gaze flicked back up to yours. like he was asking. like he was giving you one last out.  

you didn’t take it.  

his hand moved again, bolder this time. his palm slid over the curve of your breast, warm and firm, fingers curling around it as if it belonged to him. you sighed at the contact, eyes fluttering closed as your head tipped forward. it wasn’t enough. you didn’t know what “enough” would be, but it wasn’t this.  

he must’ve felt it too, because his other hand rose to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin in slow, soothing circles. he tilted your face up, and for a moment, you thought he’d kiss you again. you tilted toward him, lips parting, but he had other plans.  

instead, he leaned in and pressed his lips just beneath your ear. the warmth of his mouth sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could even process that, he was moving lower. he kissed his way along your neck, slow and steady, with the kind of patience that made your heart feel like it was on a countdown. 

and then the kisses changed. his teeth grazed your skin, his lips sealed over the spot, and he sucked hard enough to make you gasp. your hands flew up, gripping at his shoulders as he trailed love bites down to your collarbones, marking you in a way that felt possessive, the kind you’d see after he was gone.  

“jaemin,” you whispered, your fingers digging into his shirt. his name barely sounded like a name anymore.  

his only answer was a low hum against your collarbone, his hand still working under your shirt. his fingers traced lazy lines along the sensitive skin beneath your breast, and just when you thought he was going to stay gentle, he pinched your nipple between his fingers.  

you gasped sharply, hips jolting forward on reflex. “oh—”

he didn’t stop. he rolled it slowly between his fingers, feeling out every little reaction you gave him, every twitch and shiver. your body betrayed you, arching into his touch, and the way he smiled against your neck told you he knew exactly what he was doing to you.  

instinct took over before you could think it through. your hips rocked forward against his lap — once, twice — chasing relief from the ache that had been building low in your stomach for too long. you felt the slickness between your thighs, hot and damp, soaking through the thin fabric of your underwear and seeping onto his sweatpants.  

he felt it too. you knew he did from the sharp intake of breath he took, from the way his hands squeezed tighter his fingers digging into your hip, his other hand cupping your breast with just a little more pressure.  

“fuck,” he groaned, head falling forward, his forehead pressing against your shoulder. his hips shifted beneath you, his arousal impossible to miss now. he was hard, and every roll of your hips dragged against him perfectly, making him curse under his breath.  

the heat of it all was unbearable, and you had no one to blame but yourself. but at this point, did it even matter?  

he lifted his head, jaw tight, eyes half-lidded. his gaze flickered from your face to where your hips met his lap, his tongue darting out to wet his lips 

“i don't know how much longer i can hold back…” his voice was strained.  

you blinked down at him, heart thudding hard against your ribs. every nerve in your body felt like it had been lit on fire, but somehow, you still managed to smile.  

“who told you to hold back?”you said, voice soft but sure.  

“shit…” he muttered, his voice low and wrecked. his fingers dug into your hips, guiding them down against him with a deliberate pressure that had your breath hitching in your throat.  

it wasn’t just you moving anymore. he was moving you, rocking you back and forth against him faster, tired of pretending you weren’t both desperate for it.  

your head tipped back as a broken moan spilled from your lips. the friction was too good, just the right amount of pressure to have your thighs trembling. the heat between you had gone from warm to blistering, every grind making you more sensitive, more aware of the damp mess you were both making between his sweatpants and your underwear.  

his eyes locked on you, not wanting to miss a single second of it… the arch of your back, the part of your lips, the way your breath caught every time you sank down a little harder. 

“look at you,”  he breathed, voice rough and half-laughing. “getting this worked up over a little humping”

you leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his. “i’m clearly not the only one,” you shot back breathlessly..  

his lips were back on you in an instant,  rougher than before, all teeth and tongue. his hands slid up your back, under his shirt you were wearing, fingers dragging against bare skin. his nails scratched lightly at your spine, sending chills down your whole body, and you gasped into his mouth.  

he didn’t let you pull away. his lips chased yours, like he’d been starving for this, like now that he’d had a taste, there was no way he was stopping. he tilted his head, deepening the kiss, and your body moved on instinct, hips rolling harder against him.  

“fuck, that’s it,” he groaned, head falling back against the couch as he sucked in a breath through his teeth. his hands slid down to your thighs, gripping them tight as if to ground himself, but all it did was spur you on.  

you leaned forward, trailing kisses down his jaw, his neck, biting just enough to feel him shudder beneath you. his pulse was wild under your lips, and when you grazed your teeth against it, his hips bucked up so hard it knocked the air out of your lungs.  

“you’re making it so hard to be soft right now,” he said through gritted teeth, head tipped back, neck bared for you like an invitation. his eyes flicked down to where you sat on him, where the line between you two had blurred so badly it didn’t seem to exist anymore.  

“then don’t be,” you whispered against his ear, biting down on the lobe just to hear him curse again. “nobody asked you to be soft.”

that was all it took. his grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your skin with purpose. his next move was fast—you were on your back before you could register it, his body hovering over you, his weight pressing you down in a way that made your heart race in your chest.  

his eyes met yours, pupils blown wide, hair falling into his face. he looked like a mess and it was perfect.

“say that again,” he said, voice nothing but gravel and breath. his hands slid up your thighs, pushing them apart, the slow drag of his touch enough to make you squirm. “say it again so i know you mean it.”

your chest rose and fell with each shallow breath, and you reached up, fingers threading through his hair.  

“nobody,” you whispered, tugging his head down just enough to make sure he heard you, “asked you to be soft.”

for a second, he didn’t move. just stared down at you like he’d never wanted anything more in his life than to eat you up.

then he leaned in, and when he kissed you this time, it wasn’t soft or tentative or testing the waters. it was raw, hungry, and so deep it knocked the air out of you. his hands moved with purpose, sliding up your thighs, pushing his shirt higher and higher until the air hit bare skin.  

everything was heat and pressure and need. he was all you could feel, all you could hear — his breath heavy and uneven, his name falling from your lips like it was the only word you knew.  

and when he finally pressed his forehead to yours, eyes squeezed shut like he was fighting to hold himself together, you knew you’d both already lost.

the next thing you know, his hands are tugging your shirt up and over your head, the fabric barely brushing past your arms before it’s gone. the cold air hits your skin for half a second before jaemin’s mouth replaces it, hot and relentless as he traces the curve of your collarbone, his lips dragging lower, slower.

when his mouth finally closes around your right breast, it’s warm and wet and just enough to have you mewling. his tongue flicks over your nipple before sucking it into his mouth, his teeth grazing it just lightly, sending a sharp jolt of heat straight down to your core.  

his free hand slides lower, fingers trailing down your stomach, over your hip, and slipping beneath the waistband of your lace underwear like it’s the most natural thing in the world. he moves without hesitation, fingers seeking out the slick mess waiting for him, and the second he finds it, he lets out a low, rough groan against your skin.  

“god, you’re so fucking wet,” he mutters, pulling off your breast with a slick pop, his breath fanning across your skin. he glances down between your legs, his gaze so heavy you feel it like a touch. his eyes darken, his tongue darting out to wet his lips like he’s hungry just looking at you.  

he hooks his fingers into the sides of your underwear, dragging them down in one slow pull, eyes locked on you like he’s scared to blink and miss it. the fabric barely makes it past your knee before he’s already looking back up at you, his pupils blown wide, lips parted with the kind of need that makes your chest feel too tight.  

“let me eat you out,” he says, and his voice is rough and desperate.

you bite your lip like you’re thinking it over, but you know you’re going to say yes. you just like seeing him like this — all unsteady and breathless, too far gone to hide it.  

“please,” he says again, this time more ragged, his voice cracking at the end like he might actually lose it if you make him wait any longer.  

“okay,” you say, and it’s all he needs.  

he’s on you in a heartbeat, sliding down your body so fast it’s dizzying. his hands are firm on your thighs, pulling them apart, spreading you wide until there’s nowhere left to hide. his gaze flicks up one last time, meeting yours like he’s checking, like he’s giving you one last chance to stop him.  

but you don’t. you won’t.

he presses his fingers to your folds, parting you slowly, exposing everything to him, and the breath he takes is deep, like he’s savoring the moment before the fall.  

then he leans in.  

his nose brushes against you first, just a soft nudge that has your hips twitching on instinct. then his tongue follows in one long, slow drag from bottom to top that has your breath stuttering in your chest. his grip on your thighs tightens, fingers digging into your skin like he’s steadying himself as much as you.  

he moans against you, a deep, satisfied sound that you feel as much as hear, and his tongue dives back in, licking at you like you’re his favorite thing to taste. the movements are slow at first, deliberate, his tongue exploring every part of you like he’s trying to figure out exactly what makes you fall apart.  

and you are falling apart.  

your head tilts back, eyes fluttering shut, lips parting as you let out a shaky, breathless moan. your hips twitch up, and his hands are right there to hold you down, keeping you still as his tongue moves with more certainty, more purpose, licking you with long, messy strokes that make you gasp.  

his mouth doesn’t slow, if anything, it grows more determined. his tongue moves with precision now, circling that sensitive spot before flicking against it in quick, teasing bursts that have your hips jumping despite his firm grip.  

“fuck, jaem—” your voice breaks on his name, your hands gripping the sides of the couch, searching for something, anything to ground yourself. but there’s nothing. nothing but him, his mouth, the obscene, wet sounds filling the air, and the heat building low in your stomach.

he groans again, the vibration shooting through you, his tongue flattening against you before he drags it up,

“taste so sweet,” he murmurs into you, his voice muffled, every word spoken straight into your skin. 

“could stay here all night.”

the heat in your belly twists tighter at that, something about the way he says it, like he means it, like he’d ruin himself for this… for you. you’re already too close, and he knows it. he can feel it in the way your thighs tense, in the way your breath catches and your hips press up into him like you’re chasing something you can’t quite reach.  

he hums in satisfaction, his lips wrapping around that sensitive bundle of nerves, sucking just once, just enough to make your whole body jolt.

“god, jaem, i’m—” you don’t even finish the sentence before it hits you, crashing over you in waves so intense you forget how to breathe. you squeeze your eyes shut, mouth falling open on a silent cry as the pleasure hits you all at once, white-hot and overwhelming. he doesn’t let up, his tongue flicking against you through it, coaxing every last tremor from your body.  

your fingers find his hair, tugging hard, half to ground yourself and half to make him stop because it’s all too much. he groans at the pull, but it only seems to spur him on, his hands tightening on your hips, keeping you pressed against his mouth.

“jaemin,” you say it firmer this time, tugging again, and finally, finally he pulls back, his lips and chin shiny with evidence of what he’s done.

“couldn’t help myself,” he says, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth like he’s savoring every last bit of you. his eyes are wild, pupils blown wide, his hair a mess from where you tugged at it.  

“you look so pretty when you cum,” he says, voice low and husky, and you hate the way your heart lurches in your chest as if he’s just said something sweet.  

“you’re crazy,” you mutter, still catching your breath, wiping the sweat from your forehead.  

“crazy for you,” he fires back, grin widening like he knows how corny it is and says it anyway.  

and for some reason, it makes you laugh. a soft, breathy thing you can’t hold back. 

in one smooth motion, he’s crawling back up your body, his hands framing your face as he settles his weight over you. his lips press to yours, soft at first, then deeper, hungrier. reminding you exactly where that mouth has just been. you taste yourself on him, and it sends a fresh wave of heat through you.  

“not done with you yet,”  he says against your lips, his hips pressing down against yours, and fuck, you feel how hard he is, the thick, solid pressure pressing right where you need it.  

“then don’t stop,” your fingers slide down his back, nails scraping lightly.

he flashed a wicked grin, and before you could process it, you let out a startled squeal as he hoisted you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. his arms were firm around your legs, his shoulder pressing into your stomach, and you could feel the strength in every stride as he carried you from the living room to his bedroom. 

"jaemin!" you protested, your fists lightly tapping his back, but it only made him chuckle.

"keep squirming, baby. see where that gets you," he teased.  

he laid you down on the bed with surprising gentleness. the cool, fresh scent of his sheets surrounded you, soft fabric meeting warm skin. it was a fleeting comfort, though. you both knew they wouldn’t stay this neat for long. 

jaemin peeled off his shirt with one smooth motion, revealing the sharp lines of his chest and the taut muscles of his stomach. you bit your lip as he kicked off his sweatpants, leaving him in just his boxers. his gaze was locked on you, dark eyes brimming with heat and amusement, as if he knew exactly what you were thinking.  

you watched mesmerized as he pulled open the drawer of his nightstand, fingers searching until they found a small foil packet. he ripped it open with practiced ease, and when the condom rolled out into his palm, your eyes widened. 

"that’s not the right size," you blurted out, half-laughing. "no way."  

his eyebrows lifted, a challenge sparking in his eyes. "oh? wanna bet?" 

then his boxers hit the floor.  

oh.  

your breath caught in your throat as your eyes dropped, taking in the sight of his dick. heat flooded your face. what the hell.

“close your mouth, baby,” he said, smirking. “unless you’re planning to put it to use.”  

"shut up," you muttered, glancing away, cheeks blazing. "are you gonna do it or not?"  

“do what?” he asked innocently, even as he climbed onto the bed, caging you in with his body. he hovered just above you, his grin infuriatingly smug.  

“you know what.”  

“hmm. don’t think i do,” he murmured, eyes dropping to your lips. “wanna say it for me, pretty girl?”  

you pressed your lips together, heart thudding in your chest harder every second. you could feel the weight of him, his warmth, the tension that hung in the air like a live wire.  

“fuck… me, jaem,” you muttered, voice barely above a whisper.  

he tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “louder, baby. i know you can be louder.”  

he wasn’t wrong. flashes of earlier moments filled your mind, the way you were moaning and whimpering definitely wasn’t quiet. you swallowed the last bit of your hesitation.  

“fuck me. please.”  

he hummed, satisfied, his grin softening as he hooked his hands behind your knees and tugged you down toward him. you let out a quiet gasp, suddenly flat on your back, with him positioned directly above you. his body hovered just close enough that every shift of movement made you feel him.  

your eyes flickered up to his face, and for a second, he wasn’t teasing anymore. his gaze was steady, searching, his eyes dark but kind. he reached out, fingertips tracing your jawline with such tenderness it made you ache in a different way.  

“you okay, baby?” he asked softly, letting you know he’d stop everything if you said no.  

your heart swelled at the care in his voice.  

you nodded, fingers curling around his shoulders.  

he leaned in, close enough for his breath to fan across your face. “need words, love.”  

“i’m okay, jaem,” you said more firmly, gazing up at him. 

his eyes lingered on yours a moment longer before he nodded. he took a pillow and carefully placed it behind your lower back 

"good girl," he murmured.  

he shifted, his hands steady on your hips, grounding you as he lined himself up. the anticipation coiled tightly in your stomach, a nervous, thrilling buzz. you felt him prodding at your entrance, he swiped his tip up and down, the action made you clench in anticipation. he eased in, inch by inch, the stretch stealing every ounce of air from your lungs.  

his head dropped, forehead pressed against yours, jaw tense as his eyes squeezed shut. a soft curse left his lips. “fuck, so… so tight,” he groaned, his voice wrecked. his fingers dug into your hips, holding you still.

the moans spilling from your lips mixed with his name, coming out soft and unrestrained. every inch of him felt like too much, the kind of stretch that made your breath catch and your nails press into his shoulders. it had been so long since you'd had sex that you'd almost forgotten what it felt like, and even back then, no one had ever filled you like this. jaemin was thicker, longer, and the difference was impossible to ignore. 

"baby, if you keep squeezing me like that…" he laughed breathlessly, his fingers drawing slow, steady circles on your hip like he was trying to soothe you. “i might not make it all the way in.” 

“s’rry, you’re… just too big,” you muttered, voice coming out more wrecked than you intended. 

he bit down on his lip, eyes flicking down to where you were connected. the sight alone was about to undo him. "yeah?" he breathed, a little too satisfied with himself. his hand slid up, fingers pressing into your waist just a bit harder, grounding you in place as he pushed in deeper. 

the pressure was overwhelming, every slow inch making you feel like you might fall apart right there beneath him. and the deeper he went, the more you swore you wouldn’t last long. the tight, aching pull in your stomach was already coiling up, twisting tighter with every second.  

“you okay?” his voice was softer this time, the restraint obvious in how still he stayed once he’d finally bottomed out. his forehead pressed lightly to yours, lips hovering just close enough to brush your skin.  

“mhm,” you nodded quickly, legs shaking around him. 

“words, baby,” he said, and his fingers tilted your chin so you’d look at him. 

“i’m okay, jaem. just…just move, please,” you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.  

"since you asked so nicely," he said with a grin that was all teeth and trouble. his hands gripped your thighs, pulling them higher against his sides. his hips pulled back, just enough for you to feel every inch of him drag out slowly, before he pushed back in.

the breath punched out of you. you didn’t even have time to recover before he was doing it again, sharper, testing just how much you could handle. 

"god, you’re taking me so well, princess," he groaned, eyes flicking down to where your bodies connected. his hands slid up your sides, the warmth of his touch a sharp contrast to the way he was slamming into you. "like you were made for me." 

“jaem-” his name was the only thing you could manage, high-pitched and broken. your head tipped back against the pillows, eyes squeezing shut, but that only made everything feel sharper. 

“what's that?” he asked, voice rough as he leaned in closer, his lips ghosting over the corner of your mouth. "love it this much, huh?" 

you didn’t answer, didn’t need to. he could hear it in every shaky breath, feel it in the way your body reacted to him. 

his mouth was on yours a second later, messy and hot, his teeth dragging over your bottom lip before his tongue slid past it. he didn’t kiss you so much as claim you, taking everything you gave and then some. your fingers knotted in his hair, desperate for something to hold on to. the sounds between you were wet, frantic, each one making the coil in your stomach twist tighter. 

you were close… so, so close.

 but then he pulled away again, leaving you gasping at the sudden loss. before you could even think to complain, he grabbed your hips, flipping you over like it was nothing. your cheek pressed into the pillow, hips lifted, and you barely had a second to brace yourself before he was back inside you.

the first thrust knocked the air out of your lungs. it was deeper now, sharper, because he’d found a whole new spot to ruin you from. your fingers dug into the pillow, muffling the sounds spilling from your mouth, but even that wasn’t enough. the angle had you seeing stars, the kind of pressure that made your legs shake with every thrust. 

“feel that?” his voice was right at your ear, low and rough. “feels different, doesn’t it?” 

you nodded frantically, too gone to answer, but that wasn’t good enough for him. his hand slipped up, tangling in your hair, gently tugging you up just enough so he could hear you.  

“talk to me, baby.” his voice was a rasp now, barely hanging on. "tell me how it feels." 

“s’good…so good, jaem,” you gasped, words rushed and jumbled but still clear enough. "i’m- i’m gonna…”  

“go ahead, baby," he said, lips brushing against your ear before he bit down softly on your earlobe, making you jolt. "want you to cum for me." 

your whole body shuddered as the release crashed into you, slow and unrelenting, like a wave that just wouldn’t let up. it didn’t hit and fade away like usual — it lingered, making your muscles seize and tremble with every pulse. you felt boneless, your limbs heavy as you sagged against the bed, head turned to the side, cheek pressed into the pillow. jaemin stayed inside you, his grip on your hips loosening just slightly but his eyes stayed locked on you, dark and intent. you could feel him watching every little twitch of your body. 

“look at you,” he murmured, his voice rough and low. “so pretty like this.” 

he eased out of you slowly, and the emptiness that followed had you sucking in a sharp breath. your thighs shook as you tried to press them together, but his were still on you, thumb brushing softly along your inner thighs admiring how your cum slid down your dripping core. 

you glanced down, lips parting at the sight. his cock was flushed, standing firm against his stomach, the condom showing nothing but a hint of precum mixed with the mess you’d left behind. a slow heat pooled in your belly again, your body already responding before your mind could catch up.  

“you didn’t—” you started, but the words dissolved in your throat, eyes flickering back up to meet his.  

you didn’t wait for him to say anything. your hand shot out, fingers curling around his wrist, and you tugged him forward. he followed easily, letting you pull him in close, his lips already parting like he was expecting a kiss. but just as he leaned in, you braced a hand on his chest and shoved him down flat on his back. 

“oh?” he breathed out a soft, surprised laugh, his eyes widening as his head hit the pillow. “what’s this, huh?”  

“shh,” you muttered, climbing over him, one leg swinging over his hips until you were straddling him. your palms flattened on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your hands. 

“bossy now, are we?” his grin stretched wider, his hands sliding up your thighs with a slow, deliberate touch. he squeezed just above your knees, fingertips pressing into your skin.  

“quiet,” you said leaning forward, your breath warm against his ear. “thought you’d like a girl who takes charge.” 

his head tipped back with a breathy laugh. “oh, i do,” he said, voice trailing off into a low hum as his eyes dipped to where your hips hovered just above him. “but i like it even more when she can keep up.” 

the corner of your mouth tugged up into a grin. “we’ll see,” you muttered, reaching between your bodies to wrap your hand around him. he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, his whole body going rigid beneath you. even with just the faintest pressure of your hand, you could feel him twitch, his hips bucking up slightly. 

“s-sensitive,” he hissed, jaw tightening as he pressed his head back into the pillow. but he didn’t stop you, didn’t even try. if anything, his fingers dug harder into your thighs, holding you steady like he was afraid you’d pull away. 

“thought you could keep up,” you shot back, glancing up at him. his brows furrowed, his eyes squeezing shut for a second before they flickered back open. the teasing look on his face was gone now, replaced with something hungrier, more focused.  

you lined him up with you, heart thudding hard against your ribs. you’d done this before, but it felt different now… the weight of his eyes on you, the way his hands gripped you just a little tighter as you slowly lowered yourself onto him. the stretch was slow, inch by inch until you felt him fill you completely. 

“f-f—” his curse broke off into a low groan, his chest rising sharply as his hands slid up to your waist. “god, you’re—” he didn’t finish. couldn’t finish. his eyes screwed shut, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip so hard you thought he might draw blood.  

you braced your hands on his chest, fingers curling just slightly as you adjusted to the feeling. the heat in your core burned brighter, the ache of it twisting into something sharper, more desperate. you shifted your hips just a little, testing it, and the friction hit you so perfectly you gasped, nails digging into his chest.  

“you okay?” his voice was strained, barely more than a whisper, but there was a thread of concern woven through it. his eyes cracked open, heavy-lidded but focused on you.  

“mhm,” you nodded, breathless as you lifted your hips slowly, feeling every inch of him slide out before sinking back down just as slow. his head tipped back, throat bobbing as he swallowed hard, a low groan rattling from his chest. 

“yeah, just like that,” he muttered, his grip on you loosening as he let you set the pace. “take your time, pretty girl.” his words slurred just a little, as if he wasn’t fully in control of them anymore. “feels so…” his breath hitched, head tilting back against the pillow. 

his hands never stopped moving, though. they roamed up your waist, across your ribs until they found your boobs, they played there for a minute before sliding down to grip your thighs again. every time you dropped your hips, you watched the way his face twisted — brows pulling together, lips parting, his eyes half-lidded and glassy. his fingers twitched, his grip faltering like he wanted to touch you everywhere at once. 

“harder,” he breathed, his voice so quiet you almost missed it. his eyes flicked up to yours, gaze locked, lips parted and shiny with spit. “don’t hold back.”  

you bit your lip, grinning through the burn in your legs as you shifted your pace and started going faster. the sound of it echoed in the room and you felt the warmth building low in your belly again, tighter and tighter with every roll of your hips. 

“y-yeah, just like that,” he gasped, voice cracking, his eyes fluttering shut again. he pressed his head back, the veins on his neck on full display, and you watched the way his adam’s apple bobbed with every uneven breath. his hands slid to your hips, guiding you in sync with his shallow thrusts upward. the movement was messy, desperate, his body seeking more even as he tried to hold on.  

“gonna—” he bit out, breath hitching sharply. his eyes flew open, wild and unfocused as he stared at you like he wasn’t even sure what he was about to say. “gonna— oh, fuck—” 

“yeah?” you gasped, leaning forward, your hands braced against his chest, fingers curling into his skin. “feels good, hm?” 

he didn’t answer with words. he answered with his body, hips snapping up to meet yours, his fingers dragging down your back, hard enough to leave little streaks of heat in their wake. his breathing grew choppy, his body locking up beneath you as his grip on your waist turned bruising. 

“don’t stop,” he panted, his voice rough, broken. “don’t— oh, fuck.” 

you didn’t. not until you felt every last bit of him give in. his whole body went taut, muscles straining beneath you, his grip locking you in place as he let himself go. he groaned so deeply it sounded more like a growl, his breath hot against your neck as he pulled you down to him, holding you close.

“what’s the verdict, doctor?” you asked, tracing circles on his chest, still sat on top of him.  

“hm,” he hummed with his eyes still closed, lips tugging up at the corners as if he was fighting off a grin. “patient shows signs of extreme confidence. possible cause: being too good at driving me crazy.”  

you snorted, tilting your head to look at him. “is that your professional diagnosis?”  

“oh, absolutely,” he said, cracking one eye open to meet yours. “might need to run some more tests, though. you know, for accuracy.”  

“yeah?” you leaned in, your lips ghosting over his jaw. “what kind of tests, doctor?”  

his hands slid up your back, fingers splayed wide as they pressed you closer. “thorough ones,” he muttered, his voice rasping against your ear. “real hands-on approach.”  

“sounds serious,” you teased, letting your nails drag lightly down his chest. “hope your credentials check out.”  

“i’m overqualified, baby,” he breathed, tipping his head back against the pillow with a lazy grin. “let me show you.”

my inbox is always open for any comments about the fic!! thank you<3

[kurooh]

PROFESSIONAL ( AT LOVIN’ ) !

⊹₊˚. HAWKS’ BDAY 2024 — after six months of being his press agent’s friend with all kinds of benefits, keigo struggles to find a way to tell you that he can’t keep up his side of the agreement any longer. / or, his heart’s been in it since the very beginning.

word count: 14.3K (um….please read🧎‍♀️)

warnings: 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, friends with benefits -> lovers, angst, unprotected sex, creampies, cunnilingus, drinking (everyone is mid twenties), dirty talk, squirting once, office sex.

xoxo, juno: happy LATE birthday to keigo <33 WOOO first fic of 2025 and it’s the longest one i’ve ever written.. inspired by the weeknd’s kissland! hope you enjoy, love you guys :,) 🩷

“this pussy of yours is pretty fuckin’ greedy, huh?”

“how could i not be when you always fuck me so g-good?” the filthy words rush out of your mouth in a surge of euphoria that has taken over your cognitive functions and renders you clinically cock drunk. in this state, things you’d normally never agree to are suddenly more alluring than a shiny trinket to a nesting bird. sex on the roof of the heroes’ safety commission is outlandish and obscene (you’d used those words when keigo had first brought it up in jest) — but here you are getting plowed by none other than the no. 2 hero of japan.

“aw, dovey,” keigo coos, gloved hand closing around the slope of your neck and tugging you back into his chest, “you’ve always got the best compliments, don’t ya?”

“ah, r-right there!” you gasp, eyes rolling back into your skull as your third orgasm of the half hour boils in your tummy like magma in an explosive volcano. “shit, kei, ‘m gonna cum again..”

“heh, go ahead ‘n let it out for me,” the heel of his other hand digs hard into the plush skin above your pubic bone and the crude slapping of skin against skin grows louder. “c’mon, baby, cum all over this cock. show me how good you feel, yeah?”

“yeah,” you whimper, desperately throwing your ass back onto his cock to get him even deeper, “oh my god, keigo, fuuuck—‘m cumming!”

it nearly sweeps you off your feet, the strength of your blissful orgasm leaving you shaking violently and clenching uncontrollably on keigo’s cock. his teeth sharply sink into his lower lip when he quickly pulls out of you, lamely stroking himself to completion above your ass and spraying strings of ivory onto your skin. your body is slick with sweat and now cum, but the messiness of the situation doesn’t hit you quite yet — you’re busy trying to catch your breath while he hangs his head lowly behind you.

keigo still holds you upright on legs of jelly, lightly beating his wings to help stabilize himself. watchful gold eyes sweep over your body, doing a once over and admiring every inch of you. he’s always considered you as the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, and has always felt lucky to touch you — so why does he feel so damn unfulfilled? it’s probably a form of karma; keigo hasn’t ever had a consistent relationship, all due to his own actions. so many of his old girlfriends had clashed with him over his neglectful habits — his inability to give them time, attention, and effort. all of his relationships began positively, then quickly deteriorated into toxicity he’d grown tired of dealing with.

he’d been single for a year, and went without sex for longer. if he didn’t always have the press looming over his shoulder and scrutinizing each of his damn movements, he would’ve been able to get his dick wet sooner! keigo would certainly never admit it, but the total deprivation has been a good thing, allowing him to reset and understand why those relationships had completely gone downhill. at the time, he’d pettily blamed his girlfriend or the new guy she’d moved on with.

you let out a tired puff of breath and break away from his hold too soon just to look at your phone, which is sitting on top of keigo’s jacket. “so, my lunch break isn’t over just yet. we can hit the sandwich place around the block if you’re up for it?”

god, you’ve got that lazy smile playing on your lips like it always does after he’s made you cum. how is it possible for someone to look so elegant even as she buttons her blouse and wipes cum off her ass with a spare napkin? his brain literally short circuits when you hand him his jacket, plush lips shaping around a word. words. didn’t you just say something? maybe his post nut clarity has faded into obscurity, or he’s lost his hearing from how hard he just came.

“keigo,” you sigh, snapping your fingers in front of his face and briefly contemplating slapping him out of his stupor, “is the light on upstairs?”

a shiver jolts through him despite the fact that the weather’s warm, and his disassociated eyes finally hone in on you, standing right in front of him. “yeah, sorry. what’d you say earlier?”

you shrug on your suit jacket and slip into your heels. “i’m still free. we can grab sandwiches around the block if you’d like.”

so thoughtful. his heart swells happily at the prospect of eating lunch with you. it always does, usually accompanied with a flip in his stomach, whenever he tags along on something you’re doing, whether it’s eating lunch or sorting through lengthy documents after the office closes.

“sounds good. are we walking or flying, dovey?” your favorite sex petname rolls off his tongue naturally, and after months of this arrangement, you’ve stopped correcting him.

“let’s just walk,” you say decisively, wrapping the used napkin in another, “it attracts less press, showbird.”

☆ ☆

still thrumming with the sensations of sex, keigo walks into the restaurant behind you, piping up to place his order and then to swipe his card for the lunch. he dutifully waits at the table while you stand at the counter, glancing at your phone every now and then to alleviate the impatient boredom that accompanies most edible purchases. keigo allows himself a moment of respite, and instead of looking at his phone, he looks at you — particularly the way your clothes hug the slopes and curves of your body, much like he does when he’s coming down from an orgasm.

it was exactly eight months ago when keigo had first laid eyes on you. he knew right then and there that under no circumstances would he allow his old persona to shine through or mess things up between the two of you. for the first two months out of those eight, keigo had befriended you (with much encouragement from his friend mirko, bless her) and spent time getting to know you as a person over friendly lunches and the occasional drink. he’d committed each of your stories to memory and marked your birthday down on the calendar, something he’d never done for anyone else before. the beginning of everything was after one of those rare drinks that had landed you in keigo’s apartment and sitting criss-crossed on his bed, discussing your unlucky love life.

he’d listened with rapture as you pored over the freaks you’d met and gone out with in detail, mistakenly trusting your friends to set you up with someone nice on a blind date. in their defense, you’d drunkenly mumbled, it’s not their fault that there’s so many people catfishing. one inebriated conversation led to another, and you’d happened upon the fact that neither of you hadn’t had any good sex in a very long time. in the morning, you came into work late and sore all over, but also newly enlightened. for the past six months, you’ve successfully maintained a friends with benefits relationship with keigo takami, the no. 2 hero of japan.

“this one’s yours. here’s the receipt,” you push him a tightly wrapped sub sandwich and his tab.

he catches the sandwich after letting it spin on the table like an arrow on a game spinner, then crumples the receipt. “why don’t you believe me when i say i enjoy paying for you, hm?”

you sigh after a bite. “it makes me feel like a sugar baby . . but also, i can pay for myself.”

“so you’re either saying i’m old or rich,” keigo chuckles when you roll your eyes dramatically, “i know you can, but just let me spoil you, dovey.”

you knew it was a losing game the moment you brought it up, cheeks heating a little at the implication of his words. maybe being his baby isn’t that bad. conversation comes to a comfortable standstill as you both dig into your sandwiches, crumbs falling to the table and making a small mess. when you look up to pause and wipe your mouth, a laugh tumbles out before you can stop it.

“what?” keigo asks confusedly, holding his sandwich tightly and going so far as to swivel around backwards in hopes of pinpointing whatever made you laugh. 

you wrap a napkin over your fingers and lean across the table. instinctually, keigo leans in for a kiss, only to be a little more than heartbroken when you swerve to the side and dodge it to instead dab at a streak of mustard across his chin. the sudden intimacy and close proximity cause the apples of his cheeks to turn rosy in embarrassment. “did you just lead me on?” he asks when he notices you giggling at him again, voice taking on a playful and petty tone. “because it totally feels like you did that on purpose.”

“no, keigo,” a wide smile spreads across your face at his usual antics, “you were the one eating so quickly you got mustard all over your face! someone had to clean you up.”

in an instant, his voice drops an octave, becoming low and sultry. “you keep talking like that and i’ll clean you up.”

“i— we’re in public!” you exclaim, a dull ache pulsing between your legs at the thought of him using his tongue on you. 

he shrugs noncommittally, feeling triumphant now that he’s briefly flustered you. “public or not, you know you love it. now eat your sandwich.”

“way ahead of you,” heat floods your cheeks as you pick up the sandwich, feeling dirty because of the slick pooling into your underwear. keigo doesn’t understand how easy it is to get you worked up, whether it’s with his words or the mischievous footsie he keeps playing under the table with you. “if i come across a headline about this conversation, i’m gonna kill you.”

☆ ☆

“late night?” keigo hums, shattering your concentration on the current task. startled and disheveled, you glance up just in time to catch his typical smirk. his gold eyes shamelessly rake up and down your body as if he’s spotted something he wants—no, needs—to claim. however, his raunchy ogling comes to a screeching halt when he hones in on the shadowy dark circles beneath your eyes.

“the latest,” you blow out a peeved breath through pursed lips, doing your utmost to avoid looking out the window. it’s completely dark outside, the sky an inky blanket of night and stars over the city. “i’m fucking swamped.”

it comes out bitterly, and keigo cautiously steps forward, wings twitching nervously behind him. that well-groomed mess of vermilion feathers at his back seems to have a mind of its own, constantly betraying their owner by displaying his emotions so openly. 

“what, you coming to rescue me?” absentmindedly, you swish around your empty coffee mug. not a single drop flies over the edge, the porcelain totally dry as if it was never used.

“c’monnnn, you know i’m always up to rescue you,” he teases playfully, gently tugging the mug out of your grip and setting a reassuring palm down on your hunched shoulders. “i’ll get us some coffee and help you out when i get back.”

“i highly doubt that you’re qualified to deal with PR work, keigo.” a small though rascally smile plays on your lips, corners flicking up as your sour demeanor starts to mellow out. 

he sticks out his tongue and steps out of your office, heading to the kitchen. as his feet quietly pad along the hard carpet, he considers your recent behavior — last week you were fucking around on the roof and then getting sandwiches like it was nobody’s business. keigo was seeing you around the office and outside of it, but the time he’d been spending with you had decreased dramatically over the past few days. the coordinated lunch breaks and escapades were no more, and keigo’s been caught up wondering why. now, the reason for this couldn’t be linked to anything he did or said — still, it’s impossible for him not to overthink.

“god, you’re a lifesaver!” you groan joyously as keigo sets down a full mug of coffee in front of you and away from your laptop and notepad. “thank you for this.”

“slow down, you haven’t even seen the things i can do outside of making coffee.”

you rotate your laptop once he finally takes a seat in front of you, insistently pointing a finger at the various tasks on your metaphorical plate. “if i give you some work, you’ll have to do a lot of proofreading.”

keigo nods, and his eyebrows suddenly pull downwards in a mix of playful confusion and surprise. “wait, is that a virtual shrine dedicated to me?”

“what?” you mutter, squinting your eyes as you frantically look over the computer screen to no avail. “oh, shut up. just start reading while i finish up the rest.”

there’s a pause and a beat of silence as you both settle into your respective assignments.

then, “i actually came to the office because i missed you a little.”

“you what?” you laugh increduously, licking a finger to aid you in flipping through paperclipped pages. his eyes follow you, from the moment your tongue darts out to wet your skin and then flicks through pages you skim to find what you’re looking for.

“well, i haven’t seen you outside of work in a while,” keigo sniffs, tearing his eyes away from you and refocusing on the words on the screen. at the risk of sounding too vulnerable, he throws in something disgustingly horny to save himself. “was just wondering about my fuck buddy.”

fuck. he’s really cringing now, throat instinctually closing up once he feels waves of nausea crashing over him. but you don’t even bat an eye, too busy setting papers aside in different stacks and barely paying attention to him. “oh, yeah. i’m sorry, it’s just that a ton of people have been dumping so much work on me.”

“so that’s why i’m reading a drafted article enshrining endeavor as number one?” he grins, briefly catching your eyes. you’re not quite sure if it’s the exhaustion finally catching up or something else, but your stomach flutters when you automatically meet his gaze. loose papers drift to the floor, falling right past you. 

“yep, that’s why,” you laugh nervously, snatching up the papers so forcefully that they crumple in your grasp. keigo’s always so damn charming, and it affects you more now that you’re so tired. right?

“you want some dinner, dovey?” the affectionate pet name lingers in your mind, echoing loudly until it finally fades into a memory from a while ago. the transition of his affectionate voice into one choked with unadulterated pleasure is seamless, leaving you breathless in an instant. a glance at his wings has you sloppily picturing them fanned out above you and frantically beating the air as keigo ruts his hips into yours . . god, what’s gotten into you? he certainly could.

“i want you,” it slips out before you can stop it or even control it, words laced with a silent desperation only he can detect. “uh, i mean—”

“bold words,” a wolf whistle trills out into the air, reminding you that you’ve now started something you won’t be getting out of easily. “sure you can handle what you’re askin’ for, baby?”

“don’t act like i haven’t countless times before,” you retort, voice a little weaker than you’d like. it’s frustrating, the influence he has over your body — he hasn’t even said anything meaningful and yet heat’s surging to your cheeks while a shiver of excitement ripples through you.

“riiiight. aren’t you the one always saying you can’t handle it? ‘oh, keigo, please! i can’t, i—’”

the endless teasing is just too much — it makes your blood boil, gets your pulse racing, and absolutely does what it was intended to do. your full mug of coffee tips off the edge of the table and spills when you slam the laptop shut, leaping forward to rapidly close the distance between you two. your lips, slightly sticky with coffee, crash onto keigo’s hard, causing your foreheads to knock together too.

it’s a palpable invitation, one that he eagerly accepts without hesitation. his strong hands settle firmly on your hips in an attempt to stop their slight tremble, fingertips pressing into the curve of your waist. he pulls you into his lap and you fall into sync with one another just like always: keigo slips his tongue into your mouth while you tug at his blonde curls. impatience curated by time apart and characterized by frustration has the air in the room sparking with white hot electricity that’s strong enough to cause a power outage — you’re so close to finally scratching that unbearable itch, at least until it comes back tomorrow with much more ferocity.

keigo draws back with a knowing smile, lips curling up. “we should stop, dovey.”

a thin, glossy string of saliva connects your lips to his. you’ve got this desperate, needy look written all over your face, which crumples petulantly as you consider the possibility of being left unsatisfied. something purely horny twists in his chest, alongside his still yearning heart — keigo fucking loves being in control, being the only one who can give you the satisfaction that you so desperately need, but the thought of being something more resurfaces in his mind again.

it always comes to him at the worst times: right now, during a sexual moment, or before he falls asleep and when he opens his eyes to daylight in the morning. it’s eating him up inside, and he’s already too far in to stop — or is he? no, he isn’t! not if he finds a way to extricate himself from the suffocating casualness of this mess and advance whatever’s left into a real relationship, one that’s abundant in love and adoration. the evolution of the relationship hinges on the timing of his love confession, so he’ll definitely plan to wait until you’re not holed up in the office and on his lap looking like you’re about to shed tears.

“i c-can’t,” you gasp breathlessly, heart pounding in your ears, “kei, please— i need you so badly, i’ve been waiting so damn long.” 

and who is he to deny you, when you’re begging so beautifully?

“so you missed me?” keigo murmurs, pressing kisses to the column of your throat and savoring the way you softly gasp. this is his moment. he’s going to slyly frame a question for you, and when you answer it correctly, he’ll spring his confession onto you and then give you what you’ve been dying for.

“god, yes,” a moan rushes out from between your lips, head tipping back to give him easier access. with his nose pressed into your skin, keigo blissfully inhales the faint wisps of your favorite perfume. eight months later and you’re still wearing that scent daily, ever since he complimented you the day he met you. “you know i did, keigo.”

“what’d you miss the most?” he smirks between open mouthed kisses, guiding you straight to the answer with his warm hands that slip under your shirt and languidly caress the small of your back. 

“your cock, t-the way you fuck me,” you groan, unintentionally shattering his plan into pieces; but he doesn’t let it show, chuckling into your neck as he rapidly snatches them up and off the floor. it’s okay, he’s okay. all he has to do is ask a few more questions and offer up some multiple choice answers — in doing so, he’ll have a chance to tell you how he really feels.

“mmmm, is that all?” 

your eyebrows furrow in confusion and you tug him back by the hair, scrutinizing him with eyes clouded by lust and nothing else. a carnation colored flush sits high on his cheekbones, and his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows down a pesky i love you. not now, not here — this isn’t the right moment.

“keigo, why are you questioning me like my boss does?” he blinks, averting his eyes to your glossy neck, shining with his saliva in the dim light. it smells like coffee now, and he’s wondering if it’ll ever get cleaned up, dark liquid overflowing and soaking through the carpet, straight into the floor. he doesn’t want to be like the coffee, forgotten about and lingering in the air since it had fallen off the desk without you having caught it.

keigo knows you — he always has, and it’s too easy to pick up on the unmistakable tension twisted in your question, along with undertones of discomfort and deflection. automatically, he slips back into his typical persona, lips curling into an impish smile while he waggles his eyebrows to emphasize his words. “heh, you’re so impatient. can you blame me for wanting to build things up?”

you visibly relax, plush mouth forming into a pout he wants to kiss away. “i think there’s been plenty of build up. don’t tease me again.”

“yes ma’am,” he replies coolly, lifting his hands into the air in a show of submission. you release his hair and he pulls you into his chest, holding you tightly as he stands up from the chair. it rolls away into a corner, plastic backing hitting the wall with a soft thud just as keigo slams you down on the desk, papers flying every which way. 

“keigo, hah, you haven’t even gotten me naked yet,” you sigh, heat rushing to your face as he sinks to his knees on the hard carpet, his eyes never leaving yours. dexterous, impatient fingers find the clasp of your pants, and he drags them down your legs, along with your sticky panties. 

“i know,” keigo breathes, pulling your thighs over his shoulders and pulling your hips close to his face, “and yet, you’re already fucking soaked for me. aren’t you, baby?”

“yeah, i am,” you whimper, feeling your cunt clench around nothing when he rewards you by spitting onto your clit. “all for you, kei.”

“you’re so cute.” 

you really are, all spread out on the desk, pretty and pliant just for him. there’s not a shred of resistance when he manuvers you closer or teases his fingertips around your quivering hole, ignoring your strained cries for more. dark pupils enlarge against gold irises, and keigo’s wings flutter eagerly as his arousal crashes over him in continuous, steady waves of heat. now that he’s between your legs and focused on his favorite late night snack, the scent of the coffee dissipates along with his thoughts. 

“keigo,” you keen, fingers threading through his tousled curls, “please, just—oh god, stop fuckin’ teasing me.”

a sportive smack! lands on the side of your bare ass, kicking up a few papers when you jolt forward in surprise. “easy, baby. easy,” there’s a low, warning pitch in his voice, and you settle down frustratedly, gnawing on your lower lip. keigo’s never been one to rush when it comes to eating your pussy, even during quickies—you’d be more aggravated if he didn’t always make you cum so damn hard. his face is flushed pink and shining with eagerness as he pushes two fingers inside you, fixated on the way they slide in so easily. 

he experimentally curls them, and a lick of heat washes over his whole body when he watches your face crumple, head tipping back weakly while you tug at his hair. the blond curls are soft between your fingers, giving you something to grab onto when you need to steady yourself. 

“fuckkk,” keigo groans, attaching his rosy lips to your clit and lightly sucking at the swollen, sensitive bud. clumsily, you grind your hips against his mouth, body sweltering as the small office fills with the impolite smacks of his lips and wet squelches of your sloppy cunt. “loosen up for me, baby, you’re too tight.”

a trembly breath leaves your lips as you obediently readjust for him, spreading your legs and trying to relax so he can tug his fingers back. for a moment, he pauses to appreciatively look over his glossy, creamy fingers—he sticks them into his mouth, moaning and squeezing his eyes shut as he puts on a show of swirling his tongue around them like some kind of slut. once he opens his eyes, those piercing gold hues meet your own and he plunges them back inside, making you whimper.

“listen to me, dovey,” keigo murmurs, breath fanning over your wet clit, “i want you cumming hard on my fingers in the next thirty seconds.”

“but—oh,” your voice cracks when he deeply curls his fingers, purposefully interrupting you, “what if it’s not enough? i don’t think i can—”

sharp, pearly teeth lightly graze your clit and make you mewl noisily, the action both a warning and a reward. “yes, you can, dovey,” he utters in a hushed voice, “c’mon, show me you’re a big girl. i’ll be counting for ya.”

with that, keigo dives back in, furiously licking your clit while he roughly curls his fingers into that sweet, spongy spot inside you. it’s probably not serious, but something in your stomach flutters at the thought of disobeying him—if he wants you to cum, you’ll do just that. your hips rock into his tongue, developing a messy rhythm that could possibly rival his own when he’s inside you—he smirks against you, clearly pleased with himself. papers lift into the air, swirling around in a flurry of white as if they’re caught up in a tornado. the source of the miniature storm is his wings, uncontrollably flapping about as he determinedly licks at your clit like a lollipop. 

twenty five. a thin sheen of sweat shines on your forehead, making the skin tacky. absentmindedly, you wonder if it could be possible for him to cum in his pants just from eating you out. he certainly enjoys it enough — whenever he says he’s feeling thirsty or hungry, he’ll end up eating you out for so long you pass out by your seventh orgasm.

twenty. keigo’s absorbed in the smell, sight, and taste of you. nothing’s better than watching you fall apart on him, dewy tears in your eyes as you fight back overstimulation or impatience. but this is new: he’s never demanded you to cum after setting a time limit in place. it occurs to him now that he didn’t think far enough ahead to answer the question you’ll probably end up asking afterwards, something along the lines of ‘what would’ve happened if i didn’t cum?’ . . 

fifteen. with your eyes rolling back into your head as your hips lurch off the desk, a bit of drool pours down your chin. covered in a mixture of sweat, spit, and slick, you’re at a loss for words as keigo’s damn tongue rolls over your clit again and again. perhaps you’re too dazed, but you swear you feel him etch the letters of his name into you with the tip of his tongue.

ten. keigo’s pussydrunk, soaking his boxers with precum as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. his eyes are dark with lust, and the rosy skin of his cheeks and chin is smeared with that sticky wetness he just can’t get enough of. all of your muscles pull taut like a bowstring, and you sob out his name, pushing his face into you as euphoria hits you from every direction and all at once.

“kei, oh my god, ‘m gonna fucking cum,” within seconds of your frantic gasps, you abruptly gush on his fingers, hard enough to push them out of you — cum squirts from your cunt, getting onto his face when he curiously leans in to lick it away.

you don’t get a second to come down from your high because keigo roughly licks you through it as if he’s severely dehydrated. “mmmph!” you squeal, hips immediately pulling away from him like he’s given you an electric shock. “wai—wait, keigo, it’s way too much!”

he relents, rolling his eyes as if he doesn’t believe you. “fine, fiiiiine. you win this one, dovey.”

“pants off.”

he quirks an eyebrow but starts to undo his belt, letting it fall to the floor with a soft bang. “you’re so fucking greedy, i swear.”

you throw him a glare, wiping sweat off of your forehead as you sit up, slowly hopping off of the desk. 

papers fall all around you, quietly crinkling as they hit the floor and surround the desk in a sloppy circle. your lips press into a thin line as you take the sight in, mildly exasperated by the mess you’ll force him to clean up. “on the desk, keigo. tuck your wings in too.”

he laughs in disbelief, used to calling the shots when it comes to sex, “so demanding, baby.”

you fix him with a serious look, crossing your arms over your chest while papers ride the dying currents of air made by his wings. keigo clears his throat and folds his wings close to his back, “yes ma’am.”

his flushed cock is rock hard, bobbing as he settles onto the desk; it’s fraught with veins and beautifully curved to one side, something you’re endlessly thankful for when he’s inside you. above him, you’re dripping wet and ready to take him deep — keigo shudders when you grip the base of his cock, carefully balancing yourself on the desk so that you can easily sit down on it.

“holy—oh, shit,” he curses, abs clenching beneath his clothing as he forces himself to keep his hips down. if you want to take control, he’ll give it to you — anything you could ever want is immediately yours. bleary gold eyes clear up and hone in on where you’re connected; your pussy swallows his cock whole like it’s nothing, leaving him breathless.

you swallow, gnawing at your lower lip, “i’ve fucking missed this, kei. been s-so long.”

memories from your most favorite escapades rush back to you so quickly your head spins, momentarily distracting you from the task at hand. there’s a beat of silence before keigo grips your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he borderline begs you, “baby, c’mon, fuck me already.”

“don’t tell me what to do,” you breathe, placing your hands in the center of his chest to hold yourself up, “you don’t get to do that right now, keigo.”

“god, you’re gonna kill me.”

maybe you won’t, but your hips will — they start to move until you’re bouncing roughly on his cock, letting his tip bully itself against your cervix. it’s the kind of kiss that only the two of you can understand, filled with affection and an hungry obsession for more.

for what seems to be the hundredth time, this mahogany desk is christened with more sex. skin claps against skin, filling the room with the same applause that echoes in a theater after a successful show; the whole building is empty, and it’s only your window that’s flooded with fluorescent light in the otherwise dark night.

“dovey,” keigo moans, voice cracking on the familiar pet name, “if you keep going like this, i’m—i’m not gonna last much longer.”

you don’t answer, eyes squeezing shut against the burn of exhaustion setting into your muscles. handsy as always, he grabs at your tits, pulling you further on top of him and taking a hardened nipple into your mouth.

the sharp edges of his pearly teeth drag against your skin as he sucks, golden eyes shutting once he hears your whiny moans grow louder. you’re fluid and all too smooth, riding his cock into oblivion while working in these little humps against his pelvis that don’t disturb the rhythm you’ve built up. your clit drags across his skin deliciously—shit, it’s possible that you could cum together.

“haah, baby,” keigo trembles beneath you, wings spreading out and quivering against his will. “i’m so damn close, i want—” it nearly sounds too intimate, but he ignores the voice in the back of his mind and focuses on his impending orgasm that’s fighting its way out of him. “shit, i just want you to cum with me.”

sensitivity creeps up your spine and makes your body ripple with a shudder, “r-rub my clit ‘n i will, kei.”

everything happens so damn fast; it doesn’t take long for your body to respond to his frenetic touch, and you completely fall apart on his cock, triggering his own high. while your cunt desperately grips him like a vice, he’s shooting endless ropes of cum deep against your cervix. ultimately, it was pointless for him to fold up his wings — they’ve fought against him like usual, strewing more papers around the room and knocking objects off of your desk.

“d-don’t move just yet,” he wheezes, holding your hips in place the moment you try to retreat, “just stay here for a second, dovey.”

a mixture of slick and cum is smeared in the wispy beige hair that adorns his pelvis, and he looks at you pleadingly, cheeks a blotchy pink. it’s cute, but not nearly convincing enough for you to stay much longer than half a minute. “c’mon, i’ve got some stuff to finish up.”

begrudgingly, keigo lets you go and winces as you pull off of his cock. it flops lamely against his stomach, cum dribbling down the sides and adding to the creamy ring around the base. he sighs, unsurprised by your eagerness to depart — his thighs are cooling now that you’re no longer sitting on top of them.

“that was good,” you say, voice layered with praise as you stand on the tips of your toes and peck an appreciative kiss to his cheek, “let’s get started on sorting papers, shall we?”

you’re already across the room before he can grab your waist and show you what a real kiss feels like, slipping through his fingers like fine grains of sand each and every time. 

☆ ☆

rules are the stitches in the seams of anything, always there to hold things tightly in place. it’s natural to break a few every now and then, but what if there are some that should be broken? perhaps they tend to hold things back rather than securely in place.

“okinawa’s just beautiful,” keigo says wistfully, reminiscing about white sand beaches and the bird’s eye view of colorful tourist umbrellas dotting the shoreline from above. there’s a small glitch in his memories that adds you to the scene in a bikini, sunbathing on a towel while he convinces you to come swim in the water with him. he hears himself say something impulsive, but he doesn’t regret it. “maybe we can go on a trip there together. i’ll fly us.”

you stir your drink with a straw, watching the alcohol whirl around ice. “ah, i think we should build up to that, keigo. you’re forgetting that i’ve never flown around that far with you before.”

“we could always change that,” he replies, voice suave. “nighttime is the best time to fly.”

“someday i might just take you up on it,” a laugh spills out of your mouth after a gulp of sweetened tequila, and keigo’s face softens. one of the things he loves most about you is the fact that you’re not afraid to be yourself around him, never once hiding a smile or laugh. “anyway, is there anywhere you haven’t traveled?”

“hmm, let me think,” he raises his fingers to his chin and ponders momentarily, although the answer had come to him the moment you’d started to ask the question. “well, there’s your house.”

you shake your head, nudging his wrist with your own. “noooo, i’m talking about other countries and cities. haven’t you flown out of japan?” 

“only to okinawa,” he supplies, wings twitching anxiously. whenever he brings up your home in the city or worse, him going to it, you always clam up or push him away. granted, it was a boundary line you’d marked in the sand when you’d gotten into this reciprocal relationship all those months ago. escapades have taken place everywhere but your home—he could count on one hand the amount of times he’d mentioned doing it at your place, only to end up on a random rooftop or in an empty alleyway. ever the quick learner, keigo learned not to bring it up. but now, when he’s considering all the variables involved when it comes to confessing to you, he can’t help but feel that it’s necessary to see your house at least once.

sweat rolls down his spine and he unconsciously tugs at his fitted shirt, feeling the heatwaves brought on from both the liquor and the crowded atmosphere of the bar. there’s so many people walking behind the two of you, so much noise, so many bodies all in one space — he feels a little trapped.

“i’ve never been,” you say, derailing his train of thought as you drain your third drink of the night and then flag down the bartender for another. “it’s supposed to be a great vacation spot, though.”

he wipes away the sweat from his forehead with his arm and finishes his drink before nodding your way, wings fidgeting behind him. “it really is, dovey. you wanna take off after another drink or two?”

two glasses slide on the counter, the sides dripping with condensation and cold to the touch. it’s nice to feel in his hands, and he feels his nerves calming after a few long sips. “sounds good,” you answer, feeling hot yourself. the edges of everything in the room seem to blur, thanks to the halos circling the dim bar lights. “you might have to carry me out of here, though.”

“oh, i don’t mind,” keigo answers with a smirk that you can hear in his voice before looking up at him, “but only if you promise you’ll hold on tightly.”

“yes, keigo,” you drawl, scooting your barstool a few inches closer to him. he follows your shameless eyes, tracing your weighted stare to the small gold chain around his neck. it makes a tinkling sound when keigo loops a finger beneath it, hazy eyes meeting your own.

“can’t stop staring, can you?”

you automatically roll your eyes and look away, although your heart starts to race with anticipation. it should be an innocent question, but keigo’s words roll off his tongue in a way that is loaded with his unique charm and flirtatiousness. in a matter of seconds, you’re overthinking the question and the certain innuendo behind it; your breaths come in shallow pants that are just barely audible, and a finger slips beneath your chin to tip your head up. 

keigo leans in, lips barely grazing the shell of your ear. “gettin’ all worked up and i haven’t even touched you? that’s a first for you, baby.”

just stop it, you think, yet you’re unable to turn away. damn, he’s got you right where he wants you, and he knows it — keigo shoots you a knowing smile when he notices your thighs unconsciously squeeze together. it’s so hot in this bar, and it only grows hotter in his presence; an uncontrollable shiver races up your spine and you shakily reach for your drink. “stop it, kei.”

your words are shaky, and his wings twitch triumphantly behind him, feathers slightly puffing up. the dewy glass slips right out of your hand and splashes all over your blouse, sticky tequila soaking all the way through to your bra and dampening your chest. keigo stifles a snicker and plucks the glass out of your lap, a little bit of liquid still sloshing around inside it.

“that—that was your fault,” you drop a loose ice cube into the remains of your drink and glare at him angrily as he dabs a handful of napkins against your chest, unabashedly looking over the shrinking fabric. now that it’s all wet, it clings to every inch of your chest and emphasizes the outline of your tits.

“oh, but i wasn’t holding the drink,” keigo clicks his tongue and sends you a wink, sweat shining on his forehead. 

“someone has to foot the bill,” you grouse, sourly blaming him for your now stained blouse and sticky chest. then, it hits you—neither of you are drunk enough to leave the bar. after flagging down the bartender and requesting six shots, you look at keigo competitively. “listen up. whoever finishes the shots first wins and doesn’t have to pay.”

“really, a drinking challenge?” keigo grumbles, knowing you have a better chance of winning. normally, he wouldn’t mind paying for you, but you’ve challenged him and might risk covering the bill you’ve both racked up. his head is fuzzy, but one thought is clear: he won’t let you.

“yes, really,” you shoot back, nose crinkling at the smell of the liquor all on its own in the shot glasses. it’s not sweet and there’s no chaser, but you’re determined to fight your gag reflex as it goes down. “ready?”

“i’m ready,” keigo sighs, lifting a shot glass. 

it ends faster than the alcohol was poured. you’re proud to have won, and keigo doesn’t let on the fact that he assisted you. despite the liquid fire burning your throat, you’re happy—too happy; this is the most drunk that keigo has ever seen you, and he’s in the same boat as you, looking for the oars.

he nearly forgets his card when he struggles to his feet and walks out of the bar with you, right into the not-so-dark nighttime of the city. all of the streetlights are fuzzy and the sounds of racing cars are muffled; this is a different area of the city and it takes a moment for you to register where you are in relation to keigo’s apartment.

“dovey,” he says, cheeks flushed a bright red, “do you wanna go to my place?”

strong, possessive hands find your waist and pull you close, pressing your damp chest against his. those gold eyes of his search your face carefully, as if he’s taking in your features and committing them to memory or looking for something he’s intent on finding. 

your hand settles on his cheek and you pull him forward for a kiss on the busy street, not caring about who sees or writes about it. you’re in your own world, thinking of nothing but keigo and his plush, yearning mouth—he’s got the sense to pull away before it goes further, vaguely gesturing for you to turn around. when you oblige, he wraps his arms around you and under your own, holding you securely against his chest.

“i’ll treat you to a little night flight.”

vermilion wings beat the air powerfully, kicking up dust and litter along the sidewalk as keigo lifts you off the ground and into the sky. you’re shocked and speechless as you look over the city from above, thousands of buildings endlessly illuminated with light and color from the entertainment district. “it’s beautiful up here,” you breathe, feeling a little less drunk now that chill air washes over your face and cools you down. “why didn’t you invite me up here sooner?”

keigo laughs, riding on the wind and becoming one with it. “i did, you just never took me up on it. as to why, i don’t know.”

everything’s so much clearer from up here. the view is impeccable, and the air is fresh, free of the different scents of the city — exhaust fumes, restaurants, cigarettes, the occasional incense store. you’re shivering, a little too cold from the breeze blowing through your damp blouse, but being pressed against keigo’s warm chest makes it more bearable. something prods at the back of your drunken mind, a thought you’ve pushed away each time it arrives.

keigo thinks he’s slick. he thinks you don’t notice his lingering gazes, the odd way he tries to snuggle up to you every time you finish having sex, or the acute tenderness written all over his face every now and then when he’s talking to you.

but you do. you notice it, each and every time—in fact, you know exactly what all of this behavior stems from, but you choose to ignore it. clearly, keigo is in love with you. it’s evident in his actions and body language, yet he hasn’t actually said anything. it’s so damn easy to notice and understand because you feel the same, you’re just better at hiding it. something about the idea of a relationship with the no. 2 pro hero of japan is daunting — not only because you’re his agent or you’ll constantly have to face the public, but because there’s a possibility that transitioning into something more from being friends with benefits may be too dramatic of a change. 

“oh, fuck,” keigo groans, getting lost in the myriad of lights and buildings below. he doesn’t know where the hell his apartment is and isn’t sure if he has the time to fly around for a half hour looking for it.

“what’s wrong?” you ask worriedly, suddenly aware of the fact that your legs are dangling in the air. in order to preserve his pride and sensitive ego, you don’t bring up anything about him dropping you, but your body tenses.

“it’s the shots,” he grouses, speaking quickly, “they’re gonna come back up.”

“where’s your apartment?”

“i don’t know,” keigo answers, and now you can hear him starting to gag as he forces the contents of his stomach back down. “i can’t keep flying around much longer . . sorry to cut this little flight short, baby.”

“it’s okay, just don’t get sick,” you reassure him slowly, trying to pinpoint your own apartment. surprisingly, the building is a minute or two away from you, if he flies fast enough. “keigo, we’ll head to my place. see that dark building right there, near the red billboard?”

he nods, and the waves of nausea evaporate instantly. after months, he’s finally going to see your apartment—he’s now leagues closer to successfully confessing his feelings to you. keigo’s heavy wings slice through the sky as he hurdles toward your apartment; while the speed is steady, the course is not. from below, people watch as something wobbles through the sky, shifting awkwardly from side to side in a way that isn’t at all graceful . . or intimidating.

you assume he really has to throw up, when it’s quite the opposite. “k-keigo, see that balcony with the potted plants? there’s only one pot of flowers.”

“is that yours?” he asks, struggling to control how giddy he is. “i see it.”

☆ ☆

with the solid, familiar ground of the balcony beneath your feet, things around you are a little steadier. still, the alcohol buzzes persistently in your head and makes you giggle over nothing. it’s warmer now that you’re out of the sky, standing close to keigo and surrounded by all of your potted plants. a pleasant tingling sensation courses through your limbs as your body wobbles, adjusting to being out of the air and the new thoughts that rush into your head.

everything’s still a little fuzzy at the edges, a reminder of your tipsiness and disorientation. keigo wraps a supportive arm around your waist when you nearly stumble to the ground, quietly giggling at your own actions and sighing contentedly in his grip. there’s a beat of silence as your body meshes into his, the kind that settles between two people who’ve just shared a long day, and it feels so natural that your mind absently drifts to two pairs of shoes beside one another and two cups of coffee in the mornings—perhaps you didn’t notice the routine you’ve slipped into, one so innate that it makes everything else feel a little less important.

“hey, did i mention how sexy you are when you’re drunk, dovey?” keigo hiccups, wings quivering as he leans on you for some support, struggling to balance just like you are. his knuckles nudge into your side gently, grin widening as if he’s waiting for a reaction from you. the playful edge to his voice falters momentarily, and you exhale through your nose, shaking your head in disbelief.

“ugh, you must’ve had much more than i thought,” you laugh, kicking the doormat up and retrieving the brass key from beneath it to unlock the door. it’s dark out here on the porch and the same inside, leading you to awkwardly jam the key into the lock.

“you always blow me off,” he sighs ruefully, smile dropping as he notices you using the key upside down. “what, do i embarrass you or something?”

“i-it’s not that,” you breathe, tensing the moment his chest presses against your back and his hand envelops yours to help you with the key. goosebumps rise on the tender flesh of your arms first, then all over your chest, beneath your damp blouse. you recover once the lock gives, sliding the heavy glass door open and catching your breath. “kei, you’ve always got something to say to me.”

“you, of all people, have the power to shut me up whenever you want,” keigo teases, following you into your quaint apartment. instead of appreciating the moment, his mind races to find an answer to the million-dollar question: why were you so intent on keeping him out of here? even in total darkness, the place is cozy, shelves adorned with knickknacks and décor that suits you. totally lost in concentration, keigo’s wings bristle and he accidentally knocks something off a shelf, but manages to catch it in his hand. you’re in the middle of saying something, but he doesn’t even notice, his eyes completely lighting up at the sight of the object.

“is this that glass bird i gave you all those months ago?” 

a nervous laugh rushes past your lips and you nod, hand falling away from the light switch. “yeah, i thought it looked nice up there. it’s pretty.”

“wow, baby,” he gingerly puts the figurine back in its place, elated by the possible significance that this little glass bird holds. “if i’d known you liked it that much, i would’ve showered you in gifts.”

in the middle of unbuttoning your blouse, you trip over your own foot, and keigo, ever the hero, catches you as gently as he did the figurine. his fingers splay across your bare side and you blink up at him, faced with another small gap that’s dying to be closed. “i know what i want as a gift,” you utter, voice low and sultry. the words seem to hang in the air like more of a promise than a request.

keigo can smell the liquor on your breath and the temptation that accompanies it—without a second thought, his lips are on yours and he’s pushing forward with alcohol buzzing in his veins. he’s so full of hope, believing the best over what he’s considered a sign of something more; it feels so right to kiss you like this, with his hands spanning your bare waist and tugging gently at your waistband. it doesn’t quite occur to him that he is inebriated and therefore may not be thinking as sharply as he would if he were sober in this situation. 

you shove forward, pushing him hard into a wall and nipping at his lips hungrily. despite being a little bothered by him being in your apartment, you can’t say you’re not interested in fucking on your own bed for once. a shaky gasp leaves you when you pull away for breath, stomach fluttering delightedly at the hardness of his cock pressing into your thigh.

his breath hitches in his throat, hazy mind racing a thousand miles an hour. the question leaves his lips with more urgency than intended. “i—shit, you really want me to take you right here?”

“in the hallway?” you laugh, astonished. “i’d much prefer my bed, it’s easier for you to fuck me as hard as you want.”

desire and lust conducts your actions, has you dropping your blouse to the floor and unclasping your bra next. each article of clothing falls to the floor in a heap, forming a trail leading to the bedroom door. keigo follows your lead, wings jittering with anticipation as he crosses the threshold. billowy curtains blow up and around the window, lifted by the night breeze, and your room is dark, the details barely visible: keigo notices the many pillows on your bed (so that’s why you were on his ass about buying more than just one) and the full length mirror off to the side.

keigo stops to glance at his reflection in the mirror, fraught with the sculpted curves of muscle—each line a testament to years of hard work and dedication. dark hickeys litter his tanned skin, all left behind from the heat of many moments. momentarily, his eyes shift from the glass to you, perched on the bed and waiting for him. his fingers subconsciously graze over one of the marks, just as he recalls one of your rules, a line that had been drawn in the sand early on—no marks, nowhere near your neck or anywhere at all, even if people couldn’t see them. 

it’s a curious little thing, isn’t it? you clearly have no qualms about marking up his body, but you never let him give you some in return—he hasn’t voiced it, not yet. he exhales softly, feeling the ache between his legs flare once you call his name expectantly. it’s like a switch flips, causing his mind to sharpen and his pulse to quicken when he steps toward you.

bathed in opalescent moonlight, you sit back against your makeshift throne of pillows, eyes raking over him shamelessly, as if you’re looking for something else to sink your teeth into. vermilion feathers puff up and shake themselves out as the bed dips beneath his weight. “come here,” he beckons you lowly, with every intention of making you his. “you’re mine, aren’t you?”

now mussed with abundant wrinkles, the bedspread shifts beneath your bodies as keigo slots himself on top of you and hastily kisses down your neck, lightly nipping at the tender skin, just enough to elicit soft moans from you. doubt melts into desire, lacing his ministrations with something more urgent. for six months, keigo has never seen or left a single mark on you, and tonight, that’s about to change—you’ve already broken the biggest rule you had by bringing him to your apartment, so how much further could this go? 

“yeah, ‘m all yours,” you whine, back arching off the bed when he bites at the soft skin of your tits, tongue lapping away the sticky tequila you spilled earlier. it’s so different—he can’t believe he went this long without making any objections. 

things are heating up fast, and that haziness from the liquor creeps up on both of you, blurring your thoughts just enough. his hips chase yours into the bed, and he eagerly grinds his hardened cock against your thighs, all over them. your voice cracks slightly when you try to moan his name, impatient as always. but keigo decides to take his time with you, kissing and biting longer than usual—he’s in no rush, not yet.

it’s intoxicating in every way possible, causing your body to swelter and thrash beneath his own. keigo’s moving fast, delighting in your pleasure and drinking in every reaction unapologetically. fuck, to think you’d denied him and yourself for so long—he should make it up to you somehow, shouldn’t he?

“dovey,” he pants, fingers slipping under the fabric of the panties appreciatively, “you wore my favorites?”

crimson fabric adorns your waistline, threaded with soft lace. for lingerie, it’s pretty comfortable: it doesn’t floss your asshole like a thong or g-string does, something you’d told keigo when you tried it on in the dressing room. he knew he’d be buying it the moment you stepped out with a bright smile on your face. seeing it on you now is surreal, and he nearly creams his boxers at the sight of it, wings conveying his thoughts for him through a tremble.

your hips rise up and off the bed so he can pull away the last bit of fabric that covers your body. “yeah, but it doesn’t matter now,” you titter cheekily, shockwaves of arousal shooting straight between your thighs.

unceremoniously, your legs are thrown open and keigo’s wings flutter in amusement, always the first thing to react to whatever you have to say. “it matters to them,” keigo comments, jerking a thumb back to point at his pesky wings, “fair warning, this place might be a mess by the end of this.”

“so long as you help me deal with it tomorrow, i don’t mind,” your fingers swipe his cooling spit off your chest, and you’re a little startled as you press at a fresh hickey. it’s sticky, skin now sensitive and tingling in a way that’s just right.

fierce as always, keigo doesn’t waste any time diving between your legs, eager to fuck but even more so to eat your pussy. glistening strings of slick stick to the tender skin of your inner thighs, connecting them to each other thinly until he licks it away. “mmm, dovey,” he moans adoringly, and your pulse quickens, “taste so goddamn sweet.”

keigo’s a proud pussy eater, the filthiest and best you’ve ever met. he could be gasping for air with his face covered in your cum and yet, he’d still have something utterly nasty to say. unapologetically nose deep, he slurps loudly at your soaking cunt and pins your antsy legs down over his shoulders. 

“ngh, keigo,” you thrash forward, thighs squeezing his head like a vice while your hips uncontrollably buck into his face. “please don’t stop, don’t fucking stop—”

“keep squirming around like that and i will,” he grunts, one hand pressing you down into the bed while the other pushes between your thighs. those tenacious gold eyes of his are hooded now, gleaming rapturously as he devours everything you have to give him like he’s been starving. loud, sloppy slurps soon fill the room, falling into cadence with your whiny moans; scarlet feathers ruffle in response to his most favorite sounds, and his hips rut carelessly into the mattress, desperately seeking friction.

your head falls back into the downy pillows, jaw dropping slackly as you unsteadily sneak a hand down to your clit, fingers seeking to rub a lustful itch away. keigo’s fingers wrap around your wrist and snatch it away from your pussy, instead guiding your hand to his head in a show of acquiescence. 

“don’t go doing that,” he groans, pulling up for air and pressing a thumb to your swollen clit hard enough to make your eyes roll back into your skull, “use your words instead, dovey.”

you weakly nod his way, and a sudden, swift slap is delivered right to your clit, the force behind it causing you to see stars. a twisted yelp tears from your throat, and you’re doe eyed when you tearfully glance down at him, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“gotta work on using your words, baby,” keigo coos, thumbing away a stray tear from your cheek. “jus’ trying to make you understand that i need you to tell me what you want.”

there’s a dark edge to his voice that makes the apologetic tone he’s taken on seem ingenuine, almost a little mocking. and yet, you let out a sweet moan, leaning into his touch with a hushed, “yeah, kei. i understand.”

still reeling from the tingling impact of the pussy slap, you guide his head back down between your legs and unsteadily grind into his mouth. he greedily drinks you in, smacking his lips like he can’t get enough of your honeyed taste, and unconsciously pulling you closer. his fingers rub tight circles into your throbbing clit, occasionally pinching the bud to elicit a scream or two before letting go.

keigo had always been taught not to play with his food—but when she’s quaking against his face and sobbing out his name over and over, he just can’t help himself. he’s had a perpetual  mean streak that he’s only ever unleashed during sex with you, taking an overwhelming satisfaction in fucking you dumb and then teasing you about it. he notices the way your thighs tense at either side of his head, the way your head falls back whenever he tenses his tongue.

your clammy fingers claw through blonde curls, saccharine moans spilling from your lips with each ravenous push of his tongue through your folds. it’s a push and pull rhythm that is nothing less than addictive, dragging out the air from your lungs and leaving you utterly breathless. 

“g-god, keigo,” you keen loudly, shoving him down without any regard for his ability to breathe, “need you to—i need you to fuck me with your tongue.”

he groans in response, shamelessly humping the bed now that the ache between his legs has become too prominent to ignore. it flares dangerously every time you say his name or look at him with that blissed out expression written all over your face . . fuck, now you’re telling him exactly what you want and pushing him around, something he’s always enjoyed. his tongue slips into your awaiting cunt and pushes deep, tasting even more of you once he finds that puffy, spongy spot inside of you that makes you clench up every damn time. 

your breaths come in rushed, frantic gasps that soften each word. “fuuuck, right there—yeah, t-that’s it,” your voice shakes involuntarily, tight with inevitable euphoria. “kei, you’re gonna make me cum, hah—‘m real close, don’t stop, don’t stop.”

you chant those last words religiously, and keigo’s offended that you’re thinking he’d ever want to. “on my fuckin’ tongue,” he half groans, half begs, not sure if you even hear him at all.

keigo doesn’t dare to stop until you finally come undone on his tongue, shuddering uncontrollably as he licks you through your high, nearly passing out from a severe lack of oxygen. you’ve got him in a beautiful leglock that he regrets breaking out of, but seeing the dazed, drunken look on your face when he comes up erases the thought from his mind. the entire half of his lower face is covered in your cum, and heat floods your face when his pink tongue darts out to clean up his lips, all while holding your lidded gaze.

a few sanguine feathers float around your face, falling from the air like snowflakes and lightly settling on the bed like rose petals. it seems to make the moment warmer, more romantic as if this is your first time with him—in hindsight, it would’ve been nicer to christen the relationship with a bed of rose petals and scented candles scattered around the room. instead, it was something that happened fast and right after conversations about ex partners.

you pout at him as he positions himself on top of you once again, pressing a wet kiss to your mouth. instinctively, you lick away the mixture of spit and slick he leaves on your lips, tasting yourself on your tongue momentarily. it’s bittersweet and a little syrupy . . maybe he really isn’t lying about you tasting like candy. your thoughts fade away when you catch a glimpse of his vibrant wings — you’ve always seen them, but not like this. this time, you’re up close to them, so close you can see the downy barbs and delicate vanes of each individual feather.

“are your wings . . sensitive?” you ask curiously, voice carrying the barest note of reverence as your hand tentatively inches over his shoulder. after each and every covert tryst of yours, you’ve seen keigo smooth out the feathers or greet you in the morning with stimulating news of his freshly scrubbed wings. but this—touching them—feels like crossing an unspoken threshold.

keigo doesn’t answer, his breath catching in his throat. he’d been in the middle of dazedly tugging his boxers down his body when you’d just dropped a miniature bomb on him. this is the first time that he’s been this astonished, features mellowing profoundly. soon, he finds his voice and uses it, words intertwined with an unexpected tenderness: “ . . it’s alright. they’re just a little sensitive, heh. nobody’s ever touched them before.”

as if they understand you’re talking about them, his wings shift toward your fingers, obviously inviting you to touch them. this is certainly new — for the first time, his defiant wings are actually yearning to be touched, even though they get a little choosy when it’s him who’s brushing his hands through the feathers. gingerly, you reach forward and your hand disappears into the mussed feathers, fingertips brushing lightly against the sensitive skin beneath. the apex of his wings is abundant with small, downy feathers that quiver at your touch.

his eyelids flutter shut and he emits a shy moan, swallowing a sudden heart-shaped lump in his throat. courage swells in your chest and you push further, awed by the all-encompassing softness that meets your fingers. you’d expected them to be coarse, rough from years of flying and smelling earthy or musky. the faint scent of mango wafts through the air, stirring up a sense of familiarity and comfort in your chest, reminding you of all the times he’d protectively wrap his wings around your body as if to steady you. 

“they feel so nice,” you murmur, feeling his cock throb against your thigh. it draws you back into the moment, where you’re naked beneath him with anticipatory legs sprawled open. “so . . soft.”

keigo’s buzzing when you experimentally stroke your fingers through the thin feathers, an intimate form of worship that is only understood between the two of you. “you, ah, didn’t expect them to be?”

a wind created by his flapping wings kick up your curtains and make the metal rings clatter on the bar they’re hanging on. “i thought they’d be a little rougher,” you purr, voice smooth and sultry as your legs lift, locking tightly around his waist. his v-line is visibly sharp and hard to the touch like cut marble against the pillowy skin of your thighs, muscles flexing as he guides his cock to your soaked pussy. 

“i’ll show you rough, dovey,” keigo huffs, smearing his cock with your slick and pulling your legs away from his sides. he’s going to fuck you up, and he can’t do it properly in this position—your feet are thrown haphazardly over his shoulders, thighs folded tightly against your chest. he’s painfully hard, leaking sticky precum all over and trembling by the time he pushes the tip of his cock between your folds. your response is immediate; an eager moan slips out of your mouth, hips bucking impatiently onto his cock.

“damn, baby,” his chest heaves tirelessly, skin flushed pink and covered in a thin sheen of sweat, “you’re ready f’me, aren’t you?”

you look up at him with dewy eyes, electricity shooting through your every nerve. “i-if i was made for—ah—anything, it was taking your cock.”

god, you can’t just say shit like that and cluelessly think he won’t actually fall in love with you—he was only asking for a simple ‘yes’, but now he’s got hearts in his eyes as he finally pushes inside you, swallowing down the sudden urge to blow his load this fast. pulsating, gummy walls wrap around him and seem to suck him deeper without him even moving; he weakly presses his head into your shoulder, gasping frantically as he tries to adjust to the grip you’ve got on him.

“f-fuckkk,” he stutters out, regaining his cool composure after a moment despite the room feeling like a sauna, “i’m gonna hold you to that, you better not forget it.”

he’s relentless, going from zero to sixty in a second with no thoughts of slowing down — he’s jackhammering his hips, curved cock ramming right into your sweet spot and french kissing your cervix. you’re dripping wet, slick pouring down your ass and making each thrust slip ‘n slide all the more smoothly; the bed creaks ceaselessly beneath the weight of your bodies, groaning so loudly it occurs to you that it might just break. but that isn’t even a problem, not with keigo, who’d drop a ton of money on something you could just express the slightest bit of interest in.

“h-holy fuck, keigo,” you gasp out, back arching off the bed, “i could—oh my god, i could cum just from this.”

“yeah, dovey?” he grins, voice tight as he quite literally plunges deeper into heaven. “jus’ from my cock?”

sweat beads on your forehead, making your body swelter with endless steam that seems to vaporize any inhibitions you still had after all the drinks. “nghh, w-wait, ‘m gonna cum—”

“wait?” keigo practically barks out a laugh, shaking his head ruefully at you, “there’s no waiting. i want you to cum right on my cock ‘n i’ll fuck you through it, dovey.” 

you nod with mascara infused tears streaming down your face, legs quaking uncontrollably. everything seems to happen at once — a twinge of pain takes root in the backs of your thighs just as the built-up tension inside you snaps into thousands of sparks, finally igniting your long awaited orgasm.

keigo forces himself to keep his eyes open despite the fact that he’s risking an early orgasm, balls clenching at the sight of you: your lips form an o shape as euphoria washes over you, making your body quiver frenetically. he swallows dryly, closely rocking his hips against yours so you don’t push him out. 

“kei,” is the first thing you sob out when you recover, struggling to catch your breath with every thrust fucking the air out of your lungs. you’re sensitive all over, skin prickling with heat that doesn’t cool even with his wings creating a draft. 

he’s straining tight at the seams, heart pounding in his ears as he thinks of nothing but you.

you, you, you.

with your sweet, glossy-lipped smile in the mornings and the voice of a vixen when you innocently call his name. you’re nothing less than beautiful beneath him, clawing at his shoulders and staring up at him with those glazed over, blissed out eyes while your body molds against his. it’s a shape he knows well, one he’s pictured in his head when he’s all alone, one he’s been dreaming about whenever his eyes close.

his breath catches in his throat. “haah, fuck—dovey, i can’t hold it anymore.”

“right fuckin’ there,” your voice cracks into a squeal, “mhm, jus’ cum inside me.”

“you mean it?” keigo asks dumbly, nearly melting at the wild look you throw him in response.

“yeah, kei—shit, ‘m gonna cum again,” the words rush past your lips, urgent as ever and spurring him on to keep going, “i want you to—i need you to fill me up.”

something sweet flashes behind his gold eyes and he tucks his face into your shoulder, breath coming in frantic pants while he gasps your name. you’re practically in your own world, moaning loudly and dragging his slim hips closer to your own. when his cock starts to twitch deep inside you, the heel of your palm digs into his lower back, forcing his tip right against your cervix. he’s burning hot, utterly lost in you with no way of finding his way out — cum spurts from his cock and the spasms wrack his body, each stripping away a layer of him until he’s left with only his heart in his hands. 

“i fucking love you,” it rushes out and he doesn’t regret it for a second, “god, baby. i love you so much.”

your eyes roll back as your body surrenders to the toe-curling sensation of your third orgasm of the night, euphoria hitting you from all directions and rendering you clinically cock drunk. you muster just enough strength to wipe the salty tears away from your eyes, teeth chattering just the slightest bit as you drag in a gasping breath. 

after a moment, you yawn, stretching out your folded body and nudging at his chest to get him to lay down beside you. “ooh, that was great, kei. there’s no fucking way i’m walking tomorrow.”

coming down is the hardest part.

keigo’s shaken to his core by your flippant response to his confession, but most of all, he’s deeply embarrassed to have said something—no, to have thought something this stupid. finally, he’s getting a taste of karma from all of his failed relationships; he wishes that he could allow himself enough pity to ask the abyss of the universe what he did to deserve this. the heat that had once been sexy dissipates immediately, leaving him as cold as a corpse. he rolls over to the side, letting go of you and staring up at the ceiling, laying on top of wings that don’t even have enough life to twitch. pathetic tears prick at the corners of his marked eyes, and for the first time, he’s happy that the lights are off.

“keigo? did you hear me?”

“sorry, i didn’t. what was it you were saying?” he drags a forearm across his sweaty forehead, overlooking the tender inflection in your voice.

“i just . . i don’t know. that was really good,” he may not hear it, but you do. quickly, you clear your throat and tug up the blankets, inviting him to crawl underneath with you. “goodnight, kei.”

he should bite his tongue, but he doesn’t; this is the last time. “goodnight, dovey.”

☆ ☆

after tossing and turning the whole night, keigo finally decides to end the torture at 5:20 am the next morning. it’s still dark out, and he figures that he can easily slip away under the cover of night. he’s got a mild hangover, but it won’t impair him, not when he’s determined to keep it together until he gets back home.

soberly, he absorbs his surroundings and recalls the memories that have been plaguing him for hours. his body tenses, thick cords of muscle pulling taut as if he’s bracing against the impact of a punch, and like it has countless times before, the scene replays in his head again. his emotional, devoted admission of love was something you’d completely ignored—again and again, you’ve only ever shown an interest in his body.

in his chest, he feels his heart clench horribly as he looks over your sleeping form. you’re curled up in yourself under the warm blankets, turned toward him with a serene look on your face that makes it all the more difficult to slip out from under the sheets and into the cold. like a cat, he silently pads into the hallway and collects his clothes as if he was never there. he’s inches away from the back door he’d been so excited to step through last night when he stops in his tracks, head hanging lowly as pangs of guilt hit him like fists. it’s not right to just leave you like this, not without making an effort to say some kind of goodbye.

keigo hesitates in the hallway, feet seemingly glued to the floor. all he can hear are loud alarm bells—every instinct is begging him to leave, to spare himself the imminent heartbreak of going back in that room to see you. against his better judgment, he eventually tiptoes into your room with every intention of giving you one final kiss. at your bedside, he bends forward and presses his lips to your forehead; the kiss is entirely chaste, the brief touch carrying a blend of quiet grief and the tenderness of a love that was bound to fall through.

like most things in his life, this kiss doesn’t go as planned. there’s a momentary flash of blue and white—he’s managed to give you a strong, accidental static shock with an innocent kiss at 5:22 in the morning. you blearily wake up, squinting up at him in confusion and making out the high collar of his hero jacket.

“good morning, keigo,” you stretch under the blankets and reach for his hand, “what—what time is it?”

“it’s early,” he answers unsurely, sitting down on the foot of the bed. his wings droop, vermilion plumes seemingly inanimate. “y’know what, don’t worry about it. go back to sleep, baby.”

“but where’re you going?” you sit up abruptly, eyes narrowing at his fully clothed body. a glance over the edge of the bed reveals that he’s even got his boots on! 

“i’ve got patrol, silly,” keigo picks the easiest excuse out of an array of choices, and you sniff it out immediately. “i’m a hero, remember?” silence hangs in the air for a moment before you slowly speak up, sounding more confused than anything else. “but saturdays and sundays are your off days.”

keigo pauses, tongue sliding over his teeth as he contemplates what to say now that he’s been caught in his lie. like an idiot, he’s managed to trap himself. you scoff, cognitive functions coming to back to life as the final vestiges of sleep fade away into the ruined morning. did he actually expect you to wake up naked and hungover, all by yourself?

“okay, you caught me. i’ve got some stuff to deal with.”

“this early? c’mon, why’re you in such a rush?”

ultimately, it’s best for the both of you if he pulls away.

keigo’s usual smile drops and he sighs, “i’ve got shit to do, okay?”

it’s this early in the morning, and your blood pressure is already spiking in a way that is most undesirable. “are you fucking kidding me, keigo?”

the way you say his name so angrily, so accusingly—it fucking irks him, causing the corners of his lips to pull downwards into a scowl. he’s not really angry at you, he’s angry at himself for causing this dilemma to begin with, but you don’t know that. how could you really know anything about him aside from the way he likes to fuck?

“why are you getting so damn pissy? i’m going to leave whether you want me to or not, okay?”

stark naked, you exit the safety of the bed and make a beeline to your dresser, where you yank open drawers in search of clothes. keigo stands, watching longingly as you pull on some panties and a bra.

“i’m getting pissy because you wanted to take off so i could wake up naked and alone! you didn’t even say goodbye.”

“i was trying to,” keigo argues back, jumping to his feet, “but you were the one who ruined that for yourself, didn’t you?”

“a kiss isn’t enough!” you snap, now covered in a loose t shirt and pajama shorts. “couldn’t you have just waited a few hours? maybe then you could’ve told me why you were leaving.”

“what the hell? so you’re saying i need a reason to go back to my own house?”

“i don’t see why you think you can lie to me!” your voice raises furiously, words sharp as daggers, “i’m not just your agent, keigo. i know you, i care about you! don’t you get that?”

it’s quickly evolved into a dangerous game of catch, the pressure to be the one to drop the ball growing heavier atop his shoulders with each passing moment. painfully, a vein in his forehead pulses from the headache brought on by the hangover and the memories that follow it. it’s been hours and he can’t seem to shake away the pain that gnaws away at him. he’s so stupid.

“yeah, i know you are,” keigo grits out bitterly, “all i wanted to do was leave.”

“so abruptly?” you press him for answers, flicking on a small lamp so you can see him clearly. deep wrinkles span the entirety of each article of clothing that hangs on his body, but it’s the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes that makes him look unusually sloppy, getting you to pause as you take the sight of him in. concerned for his wellbeing, you soften, body relaxing. “what—keigo, what’s wrong?”

“it’s just the hangover,” he squints defensively, backing away and into a corner, “anyway, you got your goodbye, didn’t you?”

your gentle, worried face falls away. it hurts more than any injury he’s ever gotten, but he has to keep the walls up to protect himself from the pain even though guilt slips in through the cracks like mustard gas. with a pinched sigh, keigo backs away from the wall, wings limply hanging behind him as he prepares to exit your bedroom with no intention of ever coming back.

he’s blindsiding you, lying to you out of nowhere and slipping through your fingers like steam, too elusive for his own good. without a second thought, you close the distance and grab firmly at his wrist, a gesture that would’ve worked once. “i can’t do this anymore,” he mutters without looking over his shoulder, snatching away from you as if he’s been burned. “i just . . i can’t.”

“what’re you—what do you mean, keigo?” he looks out into the distance of the hallway, focusing on a specific floor tile and tracing its grooves so he doesn’t have to see your face. just from your voice, he knows you must be absolutely crushed. for courage, he allows himself a steady inhale before stepping past the threshold and leaving you in the lurch.

“this,” keigo turns, gesturing wildly and spitting out the words as if everything that’s happened in this room is horribly filthy, “it’s bullshit, all of it. i’m done, got that?”

there’s a beat of silence, and keigo stays a second too long.

“keigo, you’re breaking my heart here.”

you’re probably referring to the sex, aren’t you? surely you’re disappointed by the fact that you’ll no longer be fucking the no. 2 hero, petting his wings and calling him by a name few are able to.

“oh, come on,” he looks over you sourly, shaking his head as his eyes span the entirety of your body, “you’re pretty. you’ll find yourself a new fuck buddy, it’s not that big of a deal.”

immediately, he regrets saying it, feeling a rush of nausea in his stomach—he doesn’t want you with anyone else.

you blink back tears, his stare suddenly invasive and hurtful. “i don’t want a new fuck buddy, i want you.”

“tough shit,” keigo grunts, wings drooping further down. the longest feathers now drag along the floor, picking up whatever there is to offer. “i’m done being friends with benefits.”

“i just—all this fucking time, i’ve been wasting my time wanting to be with you,” the words tumble out of you bitterly, filling up the space between you with everything you’ve ever wanted to say, and his ears prick, grasping at a possible implication beneath all of it, “god, to think i was afraid we wouldn’t be able to become something more—all of this was a mistake.”

keigo pauses, heart pounding in his ears and possibly affecting his ability to hear. “you’re . . in love with me?”

“i was,” the correction is swift and choked, reverberating straight to his core and making his body stiffen. it hurts more than anything to hear, carrying a horrible weight, the kind that makes him realize you’ve given up on him.

“then why didn’t you—that doesn’t make any sense,” he gasps, the newfound information hitting him like a freight train, “if you were in love with me, why didn’t you—how couldn’t you have said something?”

“what’re you talking about?” you hiss, harshly rubbing away the tears in your eyes with the back of your hand. keigo’s bewildered now, face devoid of anything but shock and some kind of adoration as he seems to process something inside his head.

he stares at you desperately, struggling for the right words, “fuck, dovey, why didn’t you say anything last night?”

“don’t call me that,” you snap, the petname far too fond for a moment like this one, “why would i possibly have said something last night?”

keigo falters, and his voice cracks as the words rush out like a torrent. “i told you that i—god, i fucking told you i loved you. didn’t you hear me?” 

oh.

oh.

his heart squeezes painfully in his chest when the realization washes over your face, making him realize the gravity of this misunderstanding—you didn’t hear him.

wearily, you take a seat on the edge of the bed. he sees the way your spine curves forward, and bites down hard on his lower lip once the first sob slips out of you. in an instant, keigo’s beside you and pulling you into his arms, shaking all over. he doesn’t know what to say, but his voice breaks with endless regret when he finally comes up with something. “i’m sorry, god, i’m so sorry,” tears race down his cheeks and into your hair as he murmurs despairingly, “i thought you didn’t care, i didn’t know—”

there’s nothing more to say. 

keigo tries anyway, brokenly whispering apologies that fade into the air like smoke. his arms are tight around your body, holding you closely — it’s an unspoken promise to never let you go again. for the very first time, he truly melts into you without the walls in the way or the burden of hidden feelings. when you slowly relax against him and your sobs become quieter, something shifts in the air. vermilion wings, once held down by the weight of everything they’ve been carrying, finally come back to life. wings that have had no other purpose but to protect keigo now extend outwards to protect you too, soft feathers cradling you tenderly in the quiet of the morning. just over the horizon, the sun begins to rise, bathing the city in the light of dawn and new beginnings.

[etherealmelodys]

Kang Dae-Ho

NSFW ALPHABET

A - Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Have yall seen how this man acted in the show? He’d definitely be a master at aftercare. Thanking you for allowing yourself to be at your most vulnerable with him, making sure you’re not in any pain, hot bath, whatever you wanted this man would do it for you asap. And trust when he’s done making sure you’re okay? Immediate cuddles and praise.

B - Body Part (Their favorite body part on you and themselves)

I feel like for Dae-Ho, his arms or hands would be his favorite body part. The arms he uses to cradle you in your most intimate and vulnerable moments, keeping you safe at all times. His hands are so much bigger than yours as well, always making you feel so so good. For his partner, I don’t think he’d have a specific body part he likes about you more than the others. Everything about you is perfect, so why should he have to choose one thing?

C - Cum (Anything to do with cum)

He’s definitely a big fan of cumming inside you. He sees it as a way to be more intimate and closer to you. If you’re not a fan of that, he’s always down to cum on your stomach and thighs. The way the milky substance coats your abdomen and thighs really gets him going.

D - Dirty Secret ( Self-explanatory)

He’s really into you taking the more dominant role in the bed room. It’s not that he himself doesn’t like to, but the thought of you bossing him around and using him for your pleasure really gets him hard.

E - Experience (How experienced are they?)

I think he’s relatively experienced, not as experienced as someone like Thanos, but he knows what he has to do to get you to cum as much as he’d like.

F - Favorite Position (What positions do they like the most?)

He’s definitely the type to love any position that gives him a good view of all of you, and welcomes as much eye contact as he can get. The best for these would be missionary, rocking horse, or the happy scissor.

G - Goofy (How serious are they in the moment? Do they tease you?)

Dae-Ho would try to be as serious as possible during the act. He sees it as one of the most intimate acts you can have with another person, and he wouldn’t want you to think he doesn’t take it seriously, or you serious. Now if his partner is more playful during the act? He’s all for it.

H - Hair (What’s the hair situation down there)

This might be me being bias, but I think he has quite a bit of hair down there. Now it’s not a jungle mind you, but he just doesn’t feel the need to go bald when nobody’s complained about it before. For his partner he does not care at all. You could be as bald as a Siamese or as hairy as a rainforest, he still gon eat!

I - intimacy (How romantic are they in the moment?)

I feel like regardless of his mood, he’s always going to bring that romantic energy. Whispering praises in your ear while he slowly thrusts up into you, holding you so close to him to the point you can feel each other’s heart beats.

J - Jack Off (How often do they touch themselves?)

If he’s with somebody, he definitely jacks off more than he would if he was single. Just the thought of you gets him so hard and whiny, he never feels the need to jerk off to porn or anything like that when he has you.

K - Kinks (What are their kinks?)

He definitely doesn’t have any crazy kinks, he’s pretty vanilla. Praise, overstimulation, and hair pulling, while be it lightly, are his major ones, he’s not a fan of anything that could harm you in any aspect.

L - Location (Where do they prefer to have sex?)

He’s not into anywhere public, he’s too nervous about potentially getting caught, most importantly anyone seeing you that vulnerable. The bedroom is where he’s the most comfortable at, but anywhere ranging the shower or couch is fair game too.

M - Motivation (What turns them on?)

Just seeing you in general gets him going. Whether you just got off of work, sweaty and exhausted from the days events, or if you just woke up in the morning, bed head and all groggy. He thinks you look sexy no matter what state you’re in.

N - No (What are some things they’ll never do?)

He would never do anything to intentionally hurt or degrade you. Being raised with sisters really instilled his respect for women. Degrading, choking, anything similar to that is out of the question.

O - Oral (How do they feel about oral? Do they prefer giving or receiving?)

He definitely prefers giving to receiving. While he loves the sight of you on your knees gagging on his dick, what he loves even more is the sight of your arched back and fucked out face as he licks and sucks at your clit for hours. He’s definitely a service top, putting your pleasure above his own.

P - Pace (How fast/slow are they?)

He definitely prefers a slow and sensual pace compared to a faster one. He just loves the face you make, one of pure bliss feeling him slowly fill you up and pull himself back out again, the way you look at him as if he hung the stars in the sky, and the way you thank him for making you feel so good.

Q - Quickie (How do they feel about quickies?)

He’s not the biggest fan of quickies, he prefers to take his time with you and wants to make sure you feel good to the fullest potential. But if you’re desperate and beg him for it? Who is he to deny you.

R - Risk (How willing are they to experiment? Do they take any risks?)

Like I said before, he’s not a big fan of taking risks, or anything that might get you caught. He is however game to experiment in the bed room, but he’ll never initiate it himself, you’ll have to do that.

S - Stamina (How many rounds can they do? How long can they go for?)

Due to him being an ex-marine, I think his stamina would be extremely good, at least above average. Expect him to do at most 2-3 rounds before he starts to get tired. But before he does, it’s always his top priority to make you cum as many times as you can handle.

T - Toys (Do they have any toys? Are they willing to use any?)

I don’t think he has any of his own toys, but he’d always be down to experiment with the ones you have. He wouldn’t go out of his way to purchase any, especially for himself seeing that he has you already, so what’s the point?

U - Unfair (Do they tease you? How unfair are they in the bedroom?)

Just a tad bit, he loves you too much to do it excessively, but that doesn’t mean he won’t do it at all. Just when you guys are in a more playful mood does he really get into the role of teasing.

V - Volume (How loud are they?)

He’s fairly loud, he doesn’t do a lot of grunting, mainly whining and moaning. He’s always encouraging you to be as loud as you want as well, telling you the sounds you make are so pretty, telling you how it makes him wanna fuck you for even longer just to hear more of you.

W - Weird Fact (Self-explanatory)

He’d definitely want to try pegging, just once to see if he really is into it. But only with a partner he’s been with for quite a while.

X - X Ray (What’s it looking like in those pants.)

Dae-Ho is around 5’11-6’0 tall, and he’s quite beefy. He’s definitely above average, but he’s not huge. I’d say he’s around 6.5 inches, considering the average size in Korea is 5.3 inches. His tip is definitely a reddish pink color, about #EE9B9D, with a slight curve to the left. He had a few veins running along his shaft, noticeably a thicker one on the underside of it.

Y - Yearning (How high is their sex drive? How often do they have sex?)

He doesn’t have a super high drive, it’s about average, about every other day. He’d prefer doing other intimate acts with you, such as cuddling, watching a movie together, or just being around you in general in a non-sexual context

Z - Zzz (How fast do they fall asleep after sex?)

He usually falls asleep after a little bit of pillow talk, and of course making sure you’re comfortable and content with his performance in bed. He’d only be able to rest after making sure you’re fulfilled

(Thank you guys sm for waiting on this, I lwk fell asleep due to being sick half way through but I pulled through! This will be my first fic on this app so enjoy😼)

[loverangels]

all mine

pairings: luke castellan x fem!reader

synopsis: luke won't hesitate to show anyone you're all his.

The clang of metal on metal echoed across the training grounds, mixing with the laughter and grunts of kids sparring under your watchful eye. You had been tasked with teaching the younger campers swordsmanship, and while you loved the challenge, it was more like wrangling a group of overly energetic kittens than training warriors.

Leaning against a wooden post, Ryan from the Apollo cabin stood nearby, his bow slung casually over one shoulder. He was in charge of teaching archery to the same group of kids, and your breaks often overlapped, giving you time to chat while the campers practiced—or in most cases, ran amok.

“Looks like someone’s been promoted to babysitter,” Ryan teased, his sun-kissed face breaking into an easy grin as he nodded toward a pair of kids wildly swinging their swords at each other. “Think they’re trying to joust or something.”

You sighed, shaking your head with a laugh. “It’s like herding cats with weapons. They’ve got more energy than sense.”

Ryan chuckled, his golden hair glinting in the sunlight as he leaned a little closer. “Well, if you ever want a break from that chaos, I can offer a much calmer lesson. How about trying archery? No wild sword flailing involved—just focus, patience, and a bow.”

You gave him a skeptical look, crossing your arms. “I think I’ll stick to swords, thanks.”

“Oh, come on,” he pressed, flashing a boyish grin that always seemed to get the younger campers giggling. “The kids won’t mind if we borrow a bow for a minute. It’ll be fun! Besides, you’re already teaching them something—why not learn a new skill yourself?”

Before you could protest, he was already grabbing a spare bow and quiver from the stand nearby. “Here,” he said, pressing the bow into your hands. “Let me show you.”

“Ryan, I don’t think—”

“Relax,” he interrupted, stepping behind you. “Just hold it like this.” His hands guided yours to grip the bow properly, his fingers brushing against yours. “Straighten your arms a little. Good.”

Your heart skipped slightly at the proximity. His voice was low and smooth, close enough that you could feel his breath on your ear as he adjusted your stance. “Now, draw the string back,” he said, his hand brushing your arm, then settling lightly on your waist to steady you.

Your face warmed as you tried to focus on his instructions, convincing yourself this was just part of the lesson. He was just being helpful, right?

“Okay, aim for the center,” Ryan continued, his voice encouraging. “And... release!”

The arrow soared through the air and hit the target dead center, earning a chorus of cheers from the kids nearby.

“Yes!” you shouted, throwing your arms up in triumph. Ryan grinned widely, his excitement mirroring yours. “I told you, you’d be great at this—”

Before he could move closer or even finish his sentence, a firm arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against a familiar chest.

“Luke?” you breathed, startled, recognizing the familiar warmth of his touch immediately.

You blinked, suddenly reminded of what he’d been doing not long ago—working with the kids in the Arts and Crafts cabin, helping them string beads for their camp necklaces. You’d passed by earlier, stealing a glance as he patiently worked with a group of little campers, his usual sharp edges softened by the way he guided their hands with practiced ease. Seeing him in that light had made your chest feel oddly tight, a mix of admiration and fondness that you couldn’t quite shake. And now, here he was, standing behind you, but with none of that softness in his stance.

Before you could say anything else, his lips crashed down on yours in a deep, possessive kiss that sent your thoughts scattering. His hand rested firmly on your hip as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss with a confidence that made your knees weak. The world around you seemed to blur until there was only him—his warmth, his touch, his undeniable presence.

When he finally pulled back, you stared at him, dazed and breathless. “What... what was that for?” you stammered, your cheeks burning.

Luke’s brown eyes burned with intensity as he glanced at Ryan, who stood a few feet away, frozen in awkward silence. “Just making sure there’s no confusion,” Luke said smoothly, his arm still wrapped securely around your waist.

Ryan cleared his throat, his expression tense as he gripped the bow tighter. “I, uh... I should check on the kids,” he muttered, his jaw tight as he turned on his heel.

“Yeah, you should,” Luke said sharply, his voice dripping with finality.

“Luke!” you hissed, glaring at him as Ryan stormed off, fists clenched at his sides. “Was that really necessary?”

Luke turned to you, his jaw still tight, though the fire in his eyes softened slightly. “Did you see the way he was looking at you?” he demanded. “And how close he was? His hands were all over you!”

You rolled your eyes, stepping closer to him. “He was just showing me how to shoot, Luke. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“It was to him,” Luke muttered darkly, his arm tightening around your waist as if to prove a point.

You sighed, shaking your head before grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him down into another kiss. This one was softer, slower, meant to reassure him as much as to silence him. When you pulled back, his lips lingered against yours, his brown eyes locked onto you.

“Luke,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the way your heart raced. “You don’t have to worry. I’m yours. Always.”

The tension in his shoulders eased as a slow, confident grin spread across his face. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice low and smug. “All mine, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes again, but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips as his grip on you remained firm, his eyes gleaming with pride. You might have been exasperated, but one thing was certain: Luke Castellan never left any doubt about how much he cared for you.

[seokmn]

POMEGRANATES ✴︎˚｡⋆

pairing: junhui x gn!reader wc: 0.4k words warning: pet names

“loving you once only wrong, i need you”

junhui placed a few containers with fruits inside on the towel you two were sitting and leaned back, his arms supporting his upper body weight. “what did you bring?”

you smiled and placed a container full of brownies on the towel, “ta-da!”. junhui’s smile turned into a grin, his eyes sparkling at the sight of your brownies.

“i love your brownies so much,” he took one and ate it, closing his eyes and humming when the sweetness of the brownie touched his tongue. “babe, it’s really good.”

“glad to know,” you sighed happily, “let’s see what fruits you brought.”

you started to open the containers, revealing basically all of your favorite fruits, all of them cut into heart or star shapes, but one in specific caught your attention. “are those pomegranate seeds?” you looked at him as he nodded, his mouth still full of brownie. “but... there’s a lot. did you buy it?”

“bought it de-seeded?” he asked as he finally swallowed the brownie, but he didnt give you time to answer his question. “no, i de-seed them myself. there are two de-seeded pomegranates there.”

“that much?” your eyes widened. “one pomegranate was enough, babe! one pomegranate itself has a lot of seeds.”

junhui shrugged his shoulders and reached out for the container, grabbing a few seeds with his hand and gently holding them closer to your mouth, waiting for you to open it so he could feed you. once you opened your mouth, he placed the seeds in it with a satisfied smile. “i remembered that one time you were scrolling through instagram and suddenly you told me how its been years since you had pomegranate. when i saw them at the grocery store, i thought ‘why not?’”

you grabbed a napkin to throw away the real seeds of the fruit before looking at him with a pout on your face. “babe,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, and he laughed while wrapping his arms around your waist. “when did you buy them?”

“yesterday, after practice.” you broke the hug and looked at him, “yesterday? then... when did you de-seed them? it takes time to do that.”

“right after i got home. its not a big deal, seriously." the pout kept it on your face when he said that, feeling loved by him for spending time doing something like that for you, but also a bit bad for him wasting his time de-seeding two entire pomegranates only for you. suddenly, your expression changed to a determined expression. “i will not let the time you spent turn into a waste of time.”

you started to put as much seeds as you could in your mouth in a small amount of time, which made him laugh and try to stop you. “hey!” he laughed once more, “eat slowly! i dont want you to have an upset stomach!”

[ri-writes-if]

What would the ROs reaction be if the first time the MC said I love you was when the MC was distractedly leaving to go somewhere. (Already dating.) Gives them a kiss on the cheek and starts to leave and winds up saying something like, "I love you, have a good day! Stay safe."

(Kind of imagining the MC being a little embarrassed but not trying to take it back.)

Cute scenario 🥺💛

Vez is surprised. They note it down in their mind with the intention of mentioning it later and returning the words back if they haven't said them yet. If they said it before, then they will show you how much your words pleased them. They keep thinking about it throughout the day and getting distracted from their work to the point it irritates them. They want to get revenge on you, so you can expect a bit of teasing.

Os grabs your hand and pulls you back to face them. They cup your cheek, looking into your eyes. "What did you just say?" If you refuse to repeat your words, they circle their arms around your waist, pressing you closer. "Are you ashamed of your feelings? Or do you want me to say it too? I love you. I just want to hear it one more time. Please?"

Laz lets you go and pretends everything is fine until you're left alone at the end of they day and they have you in their arms, in bed or just reclining together on the couch. They caress your back or your cheek, and when you grow relaxed, they speak quietly, "What you said today... I can't stop thinking about it. Were you serious? Do you regret it already? If you don't... Can you say it one more time?" If you do, they just hold you tightly, closing their eyes. They have many mixed feelings, but happiness is the strongest of them.

Ash's heart skips a beat. Your words put them in a daze for the entire day. When you meet again, they're flustered, unable to look into your eyes, their cheeks flushed. If you ask what's wrong, it takes them some time to choose the right words—and they still can't. They might just cry. Once they calm down, they say, "I'm so happy that it's overwhelming. That's all." They take your hand and smile at you. "I should've just said it right away. There's nothing better to say. I love you too."

Az hugs you from behind. They hold you for a bit, needing to feel your presence, to make sure this is real. "You'll make me lose my mind," they mutter, releasing you with a sigh. When you look at them, they grin. "I love you too. Have a good day." You should walk away because they won't be able to hold themselves back from touching you again. They'd just hang on you the whole day like a koala if they could, but they know they should give you space. Your words will put them in a happy mood for a long time.

[hotrod-and-ride]

Rest, my love- you have enough time

Optimus doesn't know how to take it easy, so you show him how.

TFP!Optimus x Human!Reader fluff A/N: This was originally a self-insert thingy I made for my own pleasures but then I thought of sharing it with everyone else as a reader insert cause why not :DD enjoy!

"Optimus, have you seen my-"

You stop halfway into the room., tail flicking at the sight in front of you as the doors hissed open. Despite the uneventful days, Optimus had made himself occupied with work, slouched on his desk with data pads scattered on its surface. While it wasn't an unusual scene, he had been at his desk since you had left your shared berthroom earlier in the day. It was now late afternoon, the sun about to set.

Optimus hadn't heard you, too ingrained in his task. He's tense, by the way his chest plates seem to be pressing into itself with the way his shoulders were compressed. Even from afar, your ears could hear the cooling fans in his vents work themselves despite not overheating.

Whatever it was you were going to ask him for was completely set aside, the hybrids focus now onto your working lover.

"Oh darling," you sigh, eyes softening. You walk over to his side, pronouncing each step loud enough telling him you’re here. You make an effort to climb him (and even then, barely takes notice of you). You put a soft hand on his left shoulder and another one by the back of his neck cables. Your touch is soft, thumb rubbing back and forth against his plating. Optimus eases into the touch. You place a kiss on the side of his face. 

"Have you been here all day at your desk? This isn't good for you." You ask, concerned. "Things have been idle lately, you shouldn't be working yourself over this much."

Optimus leans back back with an ex-vent from his intake. "That is exactly the problem. Megatron and his disciples' lack of activity raises suspicions of his actions. I'm afraid if I do ignore this idleness, the Deceptions may make a move further into their plans." 

Optimus' admission of his thoughts both makes your heart ache and frustrated. For a mecha who's been alive for millennia, he sure does not know the signs of when to step back and take certain things as blessings.

You sigh. Men-like mecha and their stubbornness when it comes to leadership can be disheartening.

Despite the struggle, you make your way down onto the desk, minding the data pads on the desk- and firmly grabs hold of his face close by the sides of his helm. His optics widen slightly and whir at the sudden grip on his helm.

"Beloved," you start, staring back into his optics with fond annoyance and love, "I know being a leader means being vigilant of your responsibilities and your duties with the best of your capabilities. But sometimes, you have to take a deep breath and step back, and realize when too much is too much." At this, Optimus puts his servos gently over her hands, about to reply, but you don’t give him a chance. 

"Give yourself some credit and listen to your body- I can tell you're tired enough as it is. You've acted when you need to, and now it is time for you to rest. You've been given the clearest signs to take a break and you refuse to do so. So I'm asking you to please, stop slaving over your desk or so help me God I will drag you by the finials over to our berth." You say the last phrase with a breathy laugh, stroking your thumbs over his face plate with earnestness. He leans in to the touch, and you can't help but be reminded of a cat nuzzling itself into its owner. Optimus gently holds your hands with his servos, putting them closer to his derma to plant kisses over them.

"I suppose, if my sweetspark wishes for me to rest, then I shall," Optimus says. You beam at the compliance.

"But only if she does so with me." 

A smile grows on his derma, as does on your lips. You lift yourself on the tip of your toes, bumping your forehead against his, before kissing him there.

You chuckle, "Of course, my love, I gladly will." 

You hold him by a digit, asking him to follow you to the berth. He stands so,holding out a servo for you to stand on as he takes two steps towards the berth and lowers you down. Optimus sits by the edge, and waits for whatever you has planned. 

He watches in amusement as you arrange the multitude of pillows and blankets you’ve managed to collected on his berth, your brows furrowed in concentration and little noncommital sounds that escape from your breath. It never ceases to amaze him just how expressive humans can be. Once you nod to yourself you look back up at him, a pleased smile at your own work.

“Get smaller so I cuddle you, Oppy.” You make grabby hands at him and whine, fangs glinting in the light.

Optimus only laughs at your neediness and in a blink, he's only 5 feet taller than you, but still big in size. He carries you by the back of your thighs, while you cling to him with arms around his neck, into his chassis.

“Needy little thing,” Optimus teases, “This was your plan all along, wasn't it?” One of his servos glides across her back up and down, a soothing gesture.

“Maybe,” you confess, hiding a grin forming on your lips. "I miss spending time with you."

Optimus falters, for a moment, a feeling of guilt rising at the back of his vocalizer. His optical ridges furrow. He hadn't meant to neglect his sparkmate of his time. 

He lays you down on the berth, right next to him in the nest of pillows and blankets. He brings you in close for a hug, kissing you long and tender on your lips.

"I did not mean to forget you, sweetspark, nor neglect your needs," the sorry in his voice is palpably obvious.

"It's okay, Op, I understand, and I accept your apology," you give him a reassuring smile. "Now come here and cuddle with me." 

You reposition yourself so that you lean on a few pillows against the headboard, slightly raised. You spread your legs open and gestures for Optimus to fill the space between them.

"Come here darling. Lay on my stomach. Let me take care of my sweet, hard working Prime.”

The honeyed pet names make him preen, EM field alight with love-care-affection-tenderness. Optimus obliged, eagerly crawling into your lap and planting himself there, arms wrapped around your waist and helm against the plush of your chest. Then, after a moment, he's enveloped by your arms, legs firmly against his side, one leg wrapped around his waist. All at once he's surrounded by warmth and relaxation starts to seep into his cables.

Once you put her hands over his helm, slowly and gently stroking back and forth— he’s a goner. His cables and piston hisses at the release of pressure and he ex-vents at the beautiful sensation of being engulfed by the presence of his sparkmate. He can feel your voice humming through your skin.

"... I love you, my inamorata. Thank you, for giving me so much care."

"I love you too, my dear Prime." A soft kiss on his helm. 

“My darling Orion."

[ihfmseatsoch]

Happy new year!!!!! I hope your new year is good!!! To start the new year off, would it be okay to request something softer with Jimmy? Dubcon of course with the reader topping and giving Jimmy soft praise to where he starts crying? Like he has a mommy kink and he unravels when he gets gentle sex?

-🥩

HAPPY NEW YEAR !!! 😁🎉 ermm i went a little crazy with this one. i love jimmy best when hes nice and pathetic

genre: smut, angst

word count: 3.6k

fem!reader

warnings/content: porn with a lot of feelings, heavy self deprecation, jimmy has mommy issues, mentions of parental abuse and drug addiction, mommy kink, sub jimmy, ooc maybe but IDC!!!!!

—

"Fuck are you doin'?"

Jimmy mutters, and you're unsure if he's confused, or upset. He makes the same expression for either emotion.

You're sat on his lap, straddling his hips while your fingers tenderly brush his hair back, raking them through the surprisingly soft strands. It's surprising, because he only uses that two-in-one shit from the dollar store.

"What do you mean?" You say, not really paying any attention to his usual snark.

He leans into your touch, almost like a cat; seeming to enjoy your attention, but there's a chance he may get sick of it in a split second and bite your hand. Still, he craves physical touch just as much as the next person, even if he'd never admit that to anyone, including himself. It's stupid, he thinks, to be that vulnerable. To crave something like a loving touch or a warm hug. It's corny.

He scoffs at your question, but it’s more lighthearted than anything. "I’m talking about you being all… lovey-dovey on me. You tryin' to butter me up for somethin'?"

You shake your head 'no', with a gentle smile. It's not like buttering him up would result in anything in the first place. Usually, if you really do want something, he'll complain and accuse you of being spoiled. Although, there's a 50% chance that if you give him a blowjob first, he'll be slightly more agreeable.

"Nope. Nothing like that. Am I not allowed to love you?" You press a kiss to his forehead, and you receive a quiet grumble from him in response. Jim's trying desperately to maintain his usual grumpy demeanor, but he's failing. He hates that you can get him like this, how you can make the all-consuming ache in his body dissipate with a squeeze of his hand or a kiss to his temple. Jimmy can never just accept that he wants your affection, but you can tell that he doesn't mind it one bit, even if he continuously acts like he wants you as far away from him as possible.

"Shut up…” He hesitates for a moment, clearly debating his next words. “I didn’t say you couldn’t… do that…” Jimmy mumbles, and his hand snakes around your waist, keeping you in place on his lap, giving your hip a tentative squeeze. "You don't have to be sappy about it."

"Being in love with you is sappy?"

You ask, holding both sides of his face in your hands, his coarse stubble scratching your thumbs as they caress his cheeks, feeling every groove of his protruding cheekbones. Every inch of him is sharp. Angular, and jagged. He tries his hardest to make his outward appearance match his heart. Unlucky for him, you're annoyingly determined to see him in a different light.

Jimmy's looking everywhere except your face, refusing to admit that he's quickly turning into a sniveling, needy boy who wants nothing more than to just be held. No one's ever loved him before. No one's ever said stuff like that to him, or ever made him as soft as he is now. He's not quite used to the idea of vulnerability yet. He can hear the voice in his head, telling him to pull back, to run and hide.

"Yeah," He reiterates, "It is."

You closely study the way his features soften. His brows, which have always seemed to be frozen in a permanent furrow, relax ever so subtly. Anyone would have to be as close as you are right now to notice the difference.

"Ah, I see." You nod in faux understanding. "My sincerest apologies."

He hates how much you know him. Hates how you pay attention to the smallest of details, to every bit of his body language. How you've cracked down his walls and managed to see him for the pathetic, touch-starved man he is right down to his very soul. It's embarrassing. Humiliating, even. But yet, he has no idea how to pull back. He's hooked. A nicotine addiction with even less ability to drop the habit.

"Don't be a smartass." He mutters in response to your sarcasm, looking like he's moments away from throwing you off his lap, but his hand on your waist hasn't moved since he absentmindedly placed it there.

You click your tongue at his ever present stubbornness. You'll have to take things a bit further to get him to quit being such an ass.

A subtle roll of your hips against his gets him to physically tense under you, his fingertips digging a little too painfully hard into your flesh, though it doesn't deter you. You trail a hand down his lean chest, purposefully tantalizing with how slow you move. "Don't be stubborn." You almost sound stern. Like you're scolding him.

Jimmy sucks in a breath at your obvious teasing, the sound devolving into a low, stifled noise. "I'm not being stubborn," His voice wavers embarrassingly, "And stop that."

"Stop what?" You bite back a grin at your feigned cluelessness, though it's not entirely meant to be all that convincing in the first place. You shift in his lap again. He's already getting worked up, and all you're doing is toying with him. Jimmy can't let you win that easily, right?

"Don't give me that shit, you know damn well what," He hisses, glaring at you with annoyance, "Stop... moving around like that." His voice betrays him a second time, cracking mid-sentence.

"Why?"

You tilt your head inquisitively, and before he can snap at you again, your palm presses down onto his groin, making all of his attitude fizzle out momentarily. Jimmy stiffens, his grip on you tightening. He doesn't respond to your question instantly, too distracted by how you're caressing his now apparent hard-on through his jeans, and a shaky exhale escapes him. The noise sounds so vulnerable, so uncharacteristic and unguarded for a man like him, and it takes him a couple moments before he's able to form a response.

"...You're a mean little brat, you know that?" He manages to get out through gritted teeth.

"Aww, don't be like that," You lean in to pepper a trail of sweet kisses starting at his cheek, down to his jaw, neck, and finally, at his collarbone. The way his breath hitches tells you everything you need to know. "Don't pretend like you hate this."

He makes a noise that rises from the back of his throat, between a whine and a growl, like a wounded animal in need of someone to soothe them Jimmy isn't used to having such a gentle and loving touch on his bruised, damaged body. You're treating him like he's something fragile, breakable, something to take care of.

He's not, he knows he's not.

Yet, he can't stop the way your kisses are burning his skin, heating him to the very core. Jimmy never thought he was someone worthy of being spoiled with soft, chaste kisses, being touched with gentle, adoring hands. And yet, here you are, doing that exact thing.

Jimmy tries to respond, he really does, but all he can do is let out a small, choked-up moan.

Noticing the way his adams apple bobs as he swallows down and contains his emotion, you pull back to look him directly in his eyes, pools of honey brown that only hold your reflection alone inside of them in this moment. "Hey," Your tone becomes more serious, less playful than before, "I love you, Jim. You never let me, but I still do."

That word. 'Love'. Jimmy hates it. Not because he's never heard it before, but because for some reason, it's never sounded real when directed towards him.

"Why?" Is all he manages to ask, not accustomed to this type of raw, vulnerable affection. Where's the screaming, the anger, the violence? Where's the toxicity?

"Why shouldn't I?"

You respond with a question of your own. There's a multitude of answers he could give you. He's been screwed up since birth, his own mom abandoning him at some junky trailer park with his father who found any reason to give him a black eye, or throw him out into the dirt. Quite literally, sometimes.

Or the fact that he's never made an effort to improve his own life, even after he made it out of that "home". Instead, he got addicted to heroin and sex and alcohol and destroyed himself for the thrill he got out of torturing himself.

Who would love someone like that?

Jimmy can't take your kind, loving gaze on him anymore, so he turns his head to the side, refusing to look at you. He wants to scream at you, to say something cruel and heartless, to tell you to knock off that 'doey-eyed' bullshit and give him the cold hard truth of the matter. That people like him aren't meant to be loved, that he's a disgusting, pathetic mess who doesn't deserve a single drop of your affection.

But all he can do is silently swallow down the lump in his throat, too emotional to muster up a reply.

You turn his head right back towards you, and kiss him on the corner of his mouth, right on an ugly scar that never fully healed properly. "Can I take care of you? Just once, will you let me?" You murmur against his skin, warm and flushed.

Jimmy's brain is wired to resist, to deny your advances and stubbornly hold onto any sort of 'authority' and masculinity he has left. To give in to you would be letting you win, surrendering to your kindness. That's what he keeps telling himself, anyway.

A long, shuddering exhale escapes his lungs.

"...Yeah," He whispers like it pains him to say it out loud, "Yeah, you can."

He's only semi-hard now, not exactly horny enough to get it up, but desperate enough for your attention in any form.

You take his cock out of his fly, holding him in your hand so delicately that he feels pitied. He doesn't want to feel so fragile. But, in your hands, it's not so terrible. His skin tingles with warmth, even deep inside of him burns with an aching desire to be wanted. Maybe that's why he agreed to this in the first place. Not because of sexual enticement, but instead, the intense yearning he's pushed down and ignored.

It's hard to wrap his mind around the fact that a woman like you actually seems to care about him at all. He's a parasite. He can't help but want more from you, to devour you whole and keep you in his clutches. Jimmy can't stand being touched like this, being treated like he's something valuable, something worthwhile. He wants to push you away and tell you to stop pampering him like he's a helpless baby, because he's not. He's a man, and men aren't supposed to melt and tremble at a loving touch.

But god, does it feel incredible when you begin to stroke him. Your hand is so soft, meticulously taken care of, while his are calloused, dry skin bitten and torn off, resulting in sore cuticles and rough palms. The rise and fall of Jimmy's chest gradually picks up speed, uncharacteristically subservient noises leaving his throat.

"I love you," You suckle a sensitive spot on his neck, mumbling praises between leaving a red hickey on his tanned skin, "I love you so much. I mean it."

Jimmy's mind is stuck in a haze of confusing emotions, every word you say goes straight to his head, fueling his self-destructive tendency to crave more, more, more. Why are you doing this? What do you gain from acting so sweet to him?

"You–" He shudders, "You're wasting your time with me."

Maybe he's right. You can't change him, not by a longshot. He'll never treat you the way you deserve, like a proper boyfriend. He'll always end up shouting at you out of frustration, he'll always break things and punch walls during arguments, he'll always slip horribly deep into his depression and self isolate, rotting alone in his room while you're worried sick about him.

But you're not trying to "fix" him. You're taking him as he is, flaws and all.

Jimmy's no longer sure if he can stomach the realization that maybe, just maybe, you genuinely love him.

The way you're pumping his cock, sending stinging jolts of burning hot pleasure that shoot straight through his abdomen, makes him react in a way neither of you expect.

He's crying.

It feels so good– you're so fucking infuriatingly good, all he can do is weep. Tears stream down his face as he whimpers, his breathing coming out as labored, choked gasps. A shaky breath comes from him, trying to compose himself before he speaks, "You should stop. Please. I don't deserve it."

You shake your head, persistent as ever when it comes to him. You wipe away a fresh tear as soon as it attempts to slip down his cheek.

"No," You say, "Don't push me away." The way you look at him, all love and tenderness; it makes him nauseous.

"Please..." He begs. He's not sure what for.

You shush him, a finger to his chapped lips, before you pull your pants down, underwear along with them. He's seen you bare more times than not, yet in this particular instance, it feels like your willingness to give yourself to him is an act of gracious mercy. He only takes, and yet, you give so freely.

"It's alright," You coo, melodic, "Just relax."

His heart is pounding in his chest as his eyes linger on your cunt, glistening and eager, just for him, and you can see the sheer need in his eyes. If he wasn't before, he's completely defenseless against you now, and it scares him how badly he loves and loathes it at the same time.

It takes everything inside him not to cry out as you guide him to your hole, sinking down slow so you don't overwhelm him all at once. Jimmy buries his face in your chest, his breathing labored and stuttering. "I'm right here, I've got you." You kiss the top of this head, petting his hair back, smoothing down every loose strand. Yhe way you're so gentle and attentive with him, handling him with care, it feels maternal. Motherly. Or, at least, what he imagines having a mother coddle you feels like.

You're warm. Comforting. Nurturing. Patient. All the adjectives that describe the parental figure he didn't have. You're what he's been missing, deprived of.

Jimmy holds onto you like a lifeline, helping you lift up, then sink back down onto him in a steady rhythm, your gummy insides pulsing to the beat of your heart around his aching cock. You're pulled flush against him, his lips lightly grazing the area around your collarbones, leaving an array of light hickeys.

"My perfect boy," You let out a satisfied sigh, lifting your bra up and over your body to reveal your chest to him, your tits bouncing at every movement, "Always so good to me."

Jimmy can't take it. The idea that he's perfect? It's so unbelievably rewarding to hear those words directed at him. He lets out a trembling whine at the sight of your newly exposed skin, before immediately burying his face into your tits, a hand moving to grope and squeeze one, his mouth latching onto the other, eagerly sucking and taking your piqued nipple between his teeth.

You let out a few moans of your own, gasping every time he nips you a little too hard. "F– Fuck, that's good, Jim." Your fingers grip the hair on the back of his head, tugging lightly, the way it makes his scalp sting slightly causing him to groan against you, the sound low and gutteral.

He can't think straight anymore, every single one of his senses completely overwhelmed. In the heat of the moment, he finds himself involuntarily crying out something that immediately makes him want to jump into a vat of acid.

"M– Mommy–"

You freeze for a moment, not from disgust or discomfort, just... surprise. Jimmy? Your Jimmy, calling you mommy of all things? You thought you'd entered another plane of existence. After forcing a quick recovery, you notice his own mortification.

"...What'd you say?" You ask, not intentionally trying to embarrass him further, you just wanted to double check that you actually heard what you thought you heard.

Jimmy is currently in a full blown panicked frenzy. He's never called anyone that in his life. Literally, he didn't even have a mother figure to give that title to. Trying to regain his bearings through the hot wash of shame coarsing through his body, his head feeling full of cotton, he stammers, "Fuck, I– I don't know where that came from, I–" he should just get up and go hang himself, he thinks.

"Hey, no, it's fine," You reassure him, even though it does nothing to alleviate his humiliation, "I don't mind, really."

He's expected you to call him disgusting, berate and mock him for being a creep; Anything but being so understanding and patient. "W– Why... Why are you so... you?" He asks, unable to wrap his head around how you haven't broken into a fit of laughter yet.

You shrug, chuckling a little at his impossible question, "Well, I don't exactly have the answer to that," Your hand moves to knead his shoulder, easing the tension away, "But... I do know that I wouldn't mind being your mommy. Not at all."

Jimmy hated how his cock twitched inside of you when you said that, the realization that he actually liked what he's hearing, that he wanted to call you mommy of all things, made him want to bang his head against the wall until it splits.

"...Just, don't– don't fuckin' make fun of me for this." He grumbles, burying his face back in between your soft tits to hide himself. He couldn't possibly maintain eye contact right now.

"Never." You shake your head, returning to riding his dick, slower and softer than you've both ever been in bed. It felt nice, to give up control. To let you take your time with him, whispering praises into his ear, leaving sugary sweet love bites on his neck.

This, he believes, is true bliss.

Being pampered like this... It's addictive, and he's not letting go of it now that he finally has a taste.

"Th– Thank you," He whines, low and needy, sounding choked up again, "Thank you."

It's rare to hear him show gratitude for something, especially in a way that's so deep, so genuine. "Thank you... what?" You decide to indulge yourself in this side of him while you have the chance.

Jimmy groans, knowing where you're going with this. He's too pathetic to deny himself what he wants at this point, and he whimpers pleadingly, "...Thank you..." He chokes the words out as if he's being forced against his will, but you can practically hear how eager he is to say the next word on his tongue, "...Mommy."

"There you go," You croon, "That's a good boy. You're mommy's good little boy, aren't you?"

He doesn't know why he feels like sobbing.

Everything you're saying is seared directly into his brain, scolding hot, like a brand. "Yeah," He breathes, "Yeah, I'm... I'm your good boy." Jimmy nestles his face into the side of your neck. He's a dog, rubbing against their owner, begging for attention.

As he nears his release, he gradually turns into even more of a mess, his salty tears falling onto your shoulder, arms wrapped so tight around your torso that you fear he'll snap your ribcage in two, babbling a broken, trembling string of "mommy, mommy, mommy–"

"Mommy's right here." You breathe, his cock hitting all the right angles deep inside you, and for once, you're setting the pace, which only enhances the experience for you.

Jimmy knows he'll regret this later. This entire experience will probably turn into something else his brain tortures him with at night, but, at the moment, he's too drunk off your cunt to care. His head is empty for once, fuzzy and blissfully silent. He can't even form a proper sentence anymore, the only words able to make it past his lips are desperate pleads.

"Are you close, honey?" You ask, and you receive a frantic nod from him in response, along with a strangled whimper. "I know, I know," You murmur with audible compassion, "You want to cum so bad, don't you?"

He's sure that this is his new form of worship, his religion. Not that he ever had one to begin with. "Y– Yeah," He whines, breathless, "Please... Please–"

"You don't have to beg," You tell him, even though, truthfully, you were getting off on his begging this entire time, "Go ahead and cum for mommy. Cum deep in mama's pussy, baby."

Jimmy throws his head back, jaw clenched, eyes screwed shut, and as if by your command, he releases inside of you with a drawn out, quivering mewl, hot spurts of his release coating your insides. You can feel him throb, twitch, and tremor, coming undone, all because of you.

He looks more beautiful to you than he ever has, with a tear stained face and red rimmed eyes.

You comfort him as he comes down from his high, leaving a trail of kisses down the slope of his neck, from his adams apple to the area between his collarbones. You're like a soothing balm to an old and rotten wound he's long since tried to forget.

For better or for worse, he's never letting you go.

—

[selene131]

Clarity

Sevika x reader

Summary: Sevika is at her lowest, but you are there to provide her with comfort.

Wc: 770

Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, vulnerable Sevika, self-criticism (Sevika), smoking

The darkness of the room is disturbed by the flame coming from the beautifully carved metal lighter. The metallic click of the lighter creates an enigmatic symphony that echoes throughout the space. With each flicker of the flame, you catch glimpses of her face.  The light kisses her face in an ethereal way, at the same time, emphasizing her strong, sharp features. Such a sublime antithesis: she is fragile, vulnerable; yet so untouchable and bold. She places the golden cigarette holder between her teeth as she lights the other end of the cigarette. She inhales the smoke deeply; letting it invade every part of her lungs, holding it for a few seconds before releasing it slowly.

She plays with the lighter one more time, allowing  the flame to burn freely. Now, you get a better view of her face. She studies her face in the mirror, her eyes gliding over every little detail of her face - her eyes, eyebrows, nose, her lips, the deepened bags, and the scars engraved into her skin. At that moment, she remains unaware that you have gotten up from your seat. You carefully approach her, standing right behind her. She is still focused on her reflection - she sees a broken person, shattered to pieces. Her mind is unclear as she looks at herself, consumed by her own thoughts and self-criticism. 

You watch her reflection in the mirror, and surprisingly, your eyes meet. Her gaze softens, and you catch her in a vulnerable moment. Your eyes don't leave hers. Slowly, you move closer, your chest pressed against her back. You rest your head on her shoulder, nuzzling your face into the crook of her neck, but your eyes never stray from hers.

“You are doing that again”, you say in a gentle tone. 

“I can't help it”, she responds.

There is a palpable tension; the intensity of your gaze weakens her, and she breaks eye contact. Gently, you raise your hand to her face, caressing it and guiding her gaze back to the mirror. The flame of the lighter illuminates her features, while the darkness of the room casts shadows over her visage - creating a captivating work of art, a baroque painting where the technique of chiaroscuro works its magic.

"You should try to see yourself the way I do", you break the silence.

She lets out a chuckle and shakes her head. 

“Don't give me this answer”, you disagree with her reaction.

You begin to trace every single feature of her face, telling her all the little things you love about them. You notice that her face feels warmer, likely due to her internal blushing, but you choose not to tease her about it. You pause your exploration at her eyes, where you give her a complete analysis.

“Those beautiful gray eyes - look at them. Those eyes that have seen horrors no simple man can imagine. Those eyes that shed tears countless times behind closed doors. Yet, those eyes can still sparkle with the joy of a little child. Those eyes offer kindness to those in need. Those eyes soften when they look at me.”

Her facade is breaking; her eyes are full of tears, but she still refuses to let them run over her face.  

You try your best to reassure her. 

"I don't deserve your softness and kindness," she utters with a trembling voice. 

It breaks your heart to see her this way. She is in the process of learning how to accept and love herself. It will take time to silence the voices in her head - her own and those who made her feel less.

“You deserve more”, you say as you delicately guide her head to face you.

“You need time and I am here to support you, no matter what”, you add with a genuine smile on your face. 

In return, her hand finds your face, stroking your cheek lovingly. She guides your face toward hers, holding the gaze. As your faces almost touch, she pauses - her eyes searching yours, attempting to communicate her love for you. With her lips near yours, you can feel her warm breath fanning over them. Her hand moves to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as her lips meet yours in a kiss filled with longing.

The flame of the lighter flickers and is burning low as the gas is slowly dying. Yet the fire of love in your heart and soul for one another continues to blaze brightly.

In the end, she pulls away from the kiss and says: “Darling, you bring me clarity. ”

[speaknow-sw]

THE POET AND THE ROSE

Content : battle, injuries, execution, death, graphic description of torture, graphic description of beheading someone, treason.

A/N : Okay guys it’s 7k of plot. Also there’s only two more chapters after this one 😭😭 pls i’m gonna cry. Also I cooked with Anakin speech 🔥🔥 So what do you think ? Happy or sad ending ?

꧁ Chapter 7 : Wolves Among Lions ꧂

From the Lays of General Anakin Skywalker, XIII century

Her breath is the dawn, her touch the sea,

Each glance, a star that calls to me.

No crown nor throne could ever compare,

To the quiet heaven we two share.

The news of Obi-Wan’s death had struck like a blade to the chest. The messenger’s words echoed in the silence of the garden, shattering the fragile peace they had shared only moments before. Anakin stood frozen by the fountain, the carved crib forgotten at his feet, his hands trembling at his sides. His gaze, usually so steady, darted to you in disbelief.

“No,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “No, not Obi-Wan…”

Your heart twisted painfully at the raw anguish on his face. You stepped toward him, placing a gentle hand on his arm, but he pulled away abruptly, pacing like a caged animal. His shoulders heaved with the weight of grief and fury.

“I have to go,” he said, almost to himself. His voice was distant, hollow. “I have to fight. I have to end this.”

The thought of him leaving—of riding into battle with that torment in his heart—was unbearable. “Anakin, wait.”

He stopped and turned to you, his eyes dark with desperation. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The world seemed to shrink until it was just the two of you, standing on the edge of a precipice. Then, with a sudden, frantic movement, he closed the distance between you and cupped your face in his hands.

“I don’t want to leave,” he murmured, his voice breaking. “I don’t want to go.”

His lips found yours, pressing with an urgency that spoke of fear and longing. He kissed you deeply, as though trying to imprint the memory of you into his soul before he had to tear himself away. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath ragged.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and kissed you again. His hands trembled against your skin. “I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. “Don’t say that.”

But he kissed you again, muttering apologies between each kiss. His lips trailed to your cheek, your temple, your jawline, desperate and reverent all at once.

“I’m sorry I brought you into this.” Another kiss. “I’m sorry I can’t give you peace.” Another kiss, softer this time. “I’m sorry I have to go.”

You gripped his tunic, holding him close as though you could anchor him to you, keep him from slipping away. “Anakin, please…”

“I’ll come back to you,” he vowed, his voice shaking. “I swear it. No battle, no enemy, no force in this world will keep me from you.”

He kissed you again, slower now, lingering. His hand moved to your belly, resting gently where your child grew. “I’ll come back to you both. I’ll see our child born.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks. “You have to.”

“I will,” he promised, his eyes fierce despite the sorrow in them. “I’ll survive every sword, every arrow, every betrayal. I will crawl through hell itself if it means coming back to you.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with truth and love. He kissed you once more, softly this time, as though savoring the taste of hope.

Then, with a reluctant step back, he released you. His gaze lingered on you for a long moment, as if memorizing every detail of your face.

“Wait for me,” he said quietly.

“I will,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the ache in your heart.

Anakin nodded, drawing in a shaky breath. He turned toward his waiting men, his posture straightening, his grief and despair buried beneath the mantle of the warrior he had to be.

But as he mounted his horse and glanced back at you one last time, you saw the truth in his eyes—he wasn’t just fighting for England or for duty.

He was fighting to come home. To you. To the life you were building together.

And as he rode away, the only sound was the distant echo of hooves, carrying him further from you, and the whispered promise that lingered between you both:

I will come back.

The field was a sea of chaos—steel clashing, men shouting, and the stench of blood thick in the air. Smoke curled into the gray sky, the horizon blurred by fire and ruin. Anakin rode through the fray with ruthless precision, his sword cutting down those who stood in his path. But amidst the cacophony of war, he saw him—a figure standing tall and defiant, sword in hand, a beacon of resistance. The field was a sea of chaos—steel clashing, men shouting, and the stench of blood thick in the air. Smoke curled into the gray sky, the horizon blurred by fire and ruin. Anakin rode through the fray with ruthless precision, his sword cutting down those who stood in his path. But amidst the cacophony of war, he saw him—a figure standing tall and defiant, sword in hand, a beacon of resistance.

"Wallace!" Anakin’s voice cut through the din, a furious call that carried across the battlefield. He spurred his horse forward, dismounting in one fluid motion as he closed the distance.

The Scottish rebel turned, his expression dark with sorrow and rage. His battle-worn face was streaked with sweat and dirt, yet his eyes burned with conviction. "Skywalker." Wallace’s voice was low, a storm beneath the calm. "Come to play the king’s hound again?"

Anakin ignored the taunt, his gaze unwavering. "What madness drives you to this? We had peace!"

Wallace let out a bitter laugh, stepping closer until they stood mere feet apart. His sword gleamed in the dim light, ready but not yet raised. "Peace?" he echoed. "There is no peace when men like you and I are pawns in the games of kings."

The words hung heavy between them, like a tragic truth neither could deny.

Without warning, Wallace lunged, and their swords met with a resounding clang. The force reverberated through Anakin’s arms, and he gritted his teeth, parrying the blow with practiced ease.

They fought like equals, their strikes measured and fierce. Anakin moved with precision, his blade seeking openings, but Wallace was relentless, each swing fueled by grief and fury.

"You fight for a crown that cares nothing for you," Wallace growled, their swords locked in a tense embrace. "Your king feasts while his people starve. You fight for the wrong master, Skywalker."

Anakin shoved him back, his jaw clenched. "And you think rebellion brings peace? You slaughter innocents, Wallace. Men, women, children—all caught in your war."

Wallace’s face twisted with pain, a flicker of regret in his eyes. "Innocents die because kings wage wars. But I will not kneel to men who see us as nothing more than cattle." He stepped back, lowering his sword for a brief moment. "And neither should you."

Anakin’s grip on his sword tightened, his mind reeling. Doubt crept in, a whisper beneath his loyalty. "What would you have me do?" he asked, voice quieter now. "Abandon my country? My people?"

"Protect them," Wallace said firmly. "But know who your true enemy is. It’s not me. It never was."

The battle raged on around them, but in that moment, it was as if the world stood still. Two men, both warriors, both bound by duty and pride, stood at a crossroads.

Anakin’s heart pounded in his chest, torn between duty and something deeper—a desire for truth, for justice beyond crowns and borders.

Wallace took a step back, his gaze steady. "When you see it," he said quietly, "when you realize what you’re fighting for—it’ll be too late."

Then he turned and vanished into the chaos, leaving Anakin standing in the heart of the battlefield, sword lowered, mind in turmoil.

The words echoed in his mind as the battle pressed on: Know who your true enemy is.

And for the first time, Anakin was sure who that was.

In his notebook that night, Anakin wrote one line:

"The lion may fall, but his roar will echo forever."

The betrayal had been planned in whispers, forged in darkened tents and sealed with French coin. The agents moved silently, weaving through the Scottish ranks like shadows—faces obscured, motives hidden. Their goal was clear: dismantle Wallace's rebellion not by force of arms, but by breaking the bonds of loyalty that held his men together.

Anakin stood at the edge of the battlefield, the scent of blood and smoke thick in the air. He had expected to face Wallace once more, steel against steel, their respect forged in the crucible of war. Instead, what he found was chaos—a rebellion unraveling from within.

Rumors of French interference had reached his ears, but the scope of their involvement was only now becoming clear. His brow furrowed as he watched the disorganized retreat of the Scots, their once-unified force now splintered into factions. The men weren’t just fleeing—they were abandoning their cause.

And somewhere in the distance, Wallace was losing his war.

In a quiet clearing near the Scottish border, Count Aulbry met with a handful of disillusioned Scottish leaders. His demeanor was calm, his words honeyed with promises of gold and clemency.

"Wallace is a dead man walking," Aulbry said, his voice smooth as silk. "The French crown has no interest in seeing this rebellion succeed. What they want is chaos—a distraction to keep the English preoccupied while their troops slip into England unnoticed."

The Scots exchanged uneasy glances. Some of them had fought beside Wallace for years, but the tides of war had shifted. The dream of freedom had become a nightmare of endless bloodshed.

"And what do we get in return?" one of them asked.

Aulbry smiled faintly. "Peace. Land. Titles. And most importantly, survival." He leaned forward, his gaze steely. "You think Wallace can lead you to freedom? No. He’ll lead you to your graves. But if you hand him over, your families will live. Your lands will be spared. And you’ll no longer be pawns in a war you cannot win."

It took less than a day for the betrayal to be set in motion.

Anakin was overseeing the wounded when a messenger arrived, breathless and pale.

"My lord!" the young man called out, his voice cutting through the din of the camp. "Urgent news from the north."

Anakin turned, his sharp gaze locking on the messenger. "Speak."

The messenger took a steadying breath. "Wallace has been captured."

The words hung in the air, heavy and unreal.

"By the English?" Anakin asked, though he already knew the answer.

The messenger shook his head. "No, my lord. By his own men."

Anakin's expression darkened, his jaw tightening. "Why?"

"French agents," the messenger continued, his voice trembling with the weight of the news. "They’ve paid off key figures in Wallace's army. Promised them land and wealth in exchange for his capture."

Anakin turned away, his hands clenched into fists. He felt the familiar sting of betrayal—not just for Wallace, but for himself. The rebellion that had cost countless lives, that had torn through the north like wildfire, had been orchestrated by men with no allegiance to Scotland or its freedom.

And now, as Wallace sat in chains, the true enemy was making its move.

The betrayal was swift and merciless.

Wallace's men, those he had trusted most, turned on him under cover of darkness. He had been tending to the wounded when they came for him—faces he knew, voices he recognized.

"Why?" Wallace asked, his voice heavy with sorrow as they bound his hands in rough ropes.

One of the men avoided his gaze. "We’ve no choice. The French will see us dead if we don’t comply. And the English..." He trailed off, shame flickering across his face.

Wallace shook his head. "We fought for freedom. You swore oaths to your people. To this land."

"And what has it brought us?" another man spat. "Death. Ruin. We’re fighting a war that can’t be won."

Wallace's eyes softened with understanding, but the pain of betrayal was etched deeply into his features.

"You think peace will come from surrender?" he asked quietly. "You think the French or the English will spare you once you’ve turned your back on your own?"

The men didn’t answer. They all knew. Once a traitor, forever a betrayer. 

As they dragged him toward the English camp, Wallace cast one last glance at the land he had fought for—a land now fractured by greed and fear.

Later that night, Wallace was bound in chains, and brought before Anakin. His once-proud figure was slumped, yet his eyes still burned with defiance. Anakin dismissed his soldiers, choosing to confront Wallace alone.

"I don’t understand," Anakin said, pacing the tent. "This isn’t you. Your men were paid off, weren’t they?"

Wallace’s laugh was bitter. "You think I would sell my soul for French coin? No, General. The French sought to divide England’s attention, and they found traitors among my ranks. They played us both. And now, here I am, a prisoner of the same crown I sought to defy."

Anakin clenched his fists, his respect for Wallace only deepening. "You’re an honorable man, Wallace. You don’t deserve this."

Wallace looked up, his voice soft but unyielding. "Honor doesn’t matter to kings, Skywalker. You should know that by now."

Anakin stood by the fire that night, staring into the flames as if searching for answers within them. He thought of Wallace—of their last meeting on the battlefield, swords clashing amidst the chaos of war.

Wallace had spoken of pawns and kings, of battles fought for causes neither of them truly controlled. And now, those words echoed in Anakin's mind like a haunting refrain.

"General," another messenger approached, his face pale with fear. "There’s more. Seven thousand French troops have landed at Dover. They’re marching inland."

Anakin’s heart sank. The betrayal ran deeper than he had feared.

The French had used the Scots as a distraction, turning the rebellion into a smokescreen for their invasion. And now, with Wallace captured and the north in disarray, England was vulnerable.

Anakin stood tall before his men—a force of 5,000 battle-hardened soldiers gathered on the windswept fields outside Coventry. The sky above them hung heavy with storm clouds, and the distant roar of the sea echoed in the air. His men stood in silence, waiting. Their eyes locked on him, not with fear, but with hope.

He looked across their ranks—these men who had followed him through blood and fire, who had given their lives for a kingdom that too often gave them nothing in return. His voice began low, steady, like the calm before a storm.

"Brothers," he called, his voice carrying across the field. "We stand here, not as pawns of kings, nor as servants to crowns. We stand here as men—free men. Free to choose our own fate. Free to defend what we love. Free to live… or die… with honor."

The soldiers stood still, listening intently. Anakin’s gaze swept over them, his expression grave.

"For years, we’ve fought on foreign soil. We’ve bled for England. We’ve buried our brothers in lands far from home. And what have we been given in return? Betrayal. Ignorance. Arrogance from men who sit on thrones and feast, while we starve in the mud!"

A murmur spread through the ranks. They knew the truth of his words.

Anakin stepped forward, his voice rising with passion.

"Today, I won’t ask you to fight for kings or crowns. I won’t speak of duty to men who don’t deserve your loyalty. No!" His voice sharpened, cutting through the air like a blade. "Today, I ask you to fight for yourselves! For your families. For your homes. For England—not the England of kings and lords, but the England we build with our own hands!"

The soldiers began to nod, their eyes hardening with resolve.

"The French are here," Anakin continued, his voice darkening. "Seven thousand of them. They march on our soil with treachery in their hearts and chains in their hands. They think us weak. They think us divided. They think we will fall." He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "But they do not know us. They do not know the strength of our hearts, the fire in our blood. They do not know that we are the lions of England, and we will never kneel !"

A roar began to build in the crowd, low and fierce.

Anakin’s expression hardened, his voice dropping into a dangerous growl.

"They bought traitors among the Scots to turn on their own. They sow chaos and fear, hoping to break us from within. They took Wallace—an honorable man—and cast him into chains! And now, they think we’ll cower before them. They think we’ll surrender. But hear me now—" His voice thundered across the field. "WE. WILL. NOT!"

The soldiers roared in agreement, their fists pounding their shields.

"They come to take our lands, to burn our villages, to kill our children. But we will meet them on the field. We will drive them into the sea! We will show them that England is not theirs to take. England belongs to us!"

The men cheered louder, their voices rising like the clash of swords.

Anakin raised his sword high, his eyes burning with fury and pride.

"Fight for your brothers! Fight for your wives and your children! Fight for your freedom! And fight, not because a king commands you—but because you are free men! Because this is our land, and no man, no king, no foreign army will ever take it from us!"

The crowd erupted in chants, his name echoing through the fields like a battle cry.

"ANAKIN! ANAKIN! ANAKIN!"

He lowered his sword, his chest heaving with emotion as he took them in. These were not just soldiers. They were men of England. Men who would fight to the last breath to protect what was theirs.

He stepped closer to the front ranks, his voice now softer but no less intense.

"Let them come," he said, his eyes gleaming with determination. "Let them bring their legions, their knights, their warhorses. We will meet them with iron and fire. And we will send them home—bloodied, broken, and beaten."

The soldiers’ chants grew louder, shaking the ground beneath their feet.

Anakin stood among them, not above them. He was their general, their leader, but most of all, he was one of them. A man fighting for his people.

With a final roar, he raised his sword to the sky.

"FOR ENGLAND!"

"FOR ENGLAND!" the men bellowed in unison, their voices carrying across the land like a storm breaking free.

As the chant of his name continued to rise, Anakin stood firm, the fire in his heart burning brighter than ever. The battle ahead would be brutal, but he knew one thing for certain.

They would fight. And they would win.

"We ride for Dover," Anakin roared, his voice resolute. "Now."

The men around him nodded, their faces fierce.

As they prepared to depart, Anakin glanced once more into the fire.

"We had peace," he whispered to himself and to the dry rose he had in his hand. But peace had never been within their grasp—not when kings and traitors played their games, and the price of freedom was paid in blood because… those who lived by the sword were forced to die by it.

In a dark chamber in France, Count Aulbry penned a letter to King Philip.

"The wolf of Scotland is in chains. The lion of England will soon be brought to heel. And with him, the kingdom will fall."

From the Lays of General Anakin Skywalker, XIII century

England, my heart, my blood, my fight,

In your fields I stand, your stars alight.

Through storm and strife, your lion roars,

Forever yours, on these sacred shores.

The sun hung low over the city of London, casting long shadows across the cobbled streets as the crowd gathered near Smithfield. The air was thick with tension, the kind that came before death. Anakin stood at the edge of the platform, his jaw clenched, his knuckles white as they gripped the pommel of his sword. His cloak fluttered in the breeze, but he felt no chill.

He felt only fury—and sorrow.

The wooden scaffold loomed in front of him, a grotesque stage for what was about to unfold. The man bound in chains, dragged before the jeering masses, was no common criminal. William Wallace walked with his head high, even as the guards forced him to his knees. His eyes—steely, defiant—locked briefly with Anakin’s.

In that moment, there was no war, no rebellion, no borders. There were only two men who had once fought side by side in mutual respect.

"Have you come to watch me die, Lord Jacob?" Wallace’s voice, though rough from days of torture, still held strength.

Anakin took a step closer. His voice was low, steady. "I came to bear witness."

A bitter smile twisted Wallace’s lips. "Aye, witness the cost of defying kings."

The executioner’s blade glinted in the fading light as he prepared his tools. The crowd murmured, hungry for blood, but Anakin heard nothing but the pounding of his own heart. He wanted to scream. To draw his sword and cut down every man who had brought Wallace to this moment.

But he stood still, his rage simmering beneath the surface. This was not his battle. Not today.

The execution began. First, they dragged Wallace to the rack, stretching his limbs until bones cracked. Wallace never screamed. He gritted his teeth, his eyes never leaving Anakin’s.

Each brutal act was a reminder of the cruelty of kings. Of how power twisted men into monsters.

When the executioner finally raised the axe for the final blow, Wallace turned his gaze to the sky, whispering something Anakin couldn’t hear. A prayer ? A curse ? 

Suddenly he arched his back and screamed one word. One tiny little word. Freedom… It didn’t matter for them. The axe came down with a sickening thud, and Wallace’s head rolled across the platform.

The crowd roared in approval.

Anakin stood frozen, his chest heaving, his hands trembling. His vision blurred, not from tears, but from sheer rage.

Anakin stood rigid in the dimly lit chamber, his heart still pounding from the execution of Wallace. The echo of the man's final breath seemed to reverberate in his mind as he faced the imposing figure of King Edward. The weight of the moment hung thick in the air, the finality of Wallace’s death adding fuel to the fire of Anakin’s fury. He had lost enough—his brothers, his friends, and now, a man he had once fought beside. The King had ordered it all, and Anakin was beginning to see just how far the rot went. The thought of what was to come next, the looming conflict with France, threatened to break him.

"Lord Skywalker," Edward began, his tone cold, unyielding. "I’ve been informed of your plans. You intend to march against the French, against their troops assembling on our shores."

Anakin’s eyes narrowed. His thoughts were still clouded with rage, but he knew this was the moment. He had to push forward, speak for the men who had no voice, who had bled on foreign soil for the ambitions of a king who seemed to forget their sacrifices.

"Yes," Anakin said firmly, his voice steady despite the anger rising within him. "I intend to protect this kingdom. We’ve been given no choice. The French have already begun to move against us—seven thousand troops now on our shores. They seek to destroy everything we have built."

Edward’s brow furrowed, and he gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "You will not march," he stated with a finality that made Anakin's blood run cold.

Anakin stared at the King, the words echoing in his mind. "I will not march?" he repeated slowly, the disbelief leaking into his tone. "My lord, you would have me stand idly by while our land is invaded? You would have me wait for your ‘diplomacy’ to work its magic?"

"Enough," Edward snapped. "You are a general, not a king. I’ve seen the reports. I have spoken with the ambassadors. This is not a moment for war, but for diplomacy. We must avoid needless bloodshed."

Anakin’s temper flared, and he took a step forward, his voice rising. "Diplomacy?" he repeated, each syllable dripping with contempt. "While they bring war to our doorstep, you speak of diplomacy? How many more men must die before you admit the truth?"

Edward’s face hardened, his eyes narrowing. "You speak out of turn, Skywalker. You forget your place."

"My place?" Anakin hissed, his fists clenching at his sides. "My place is to protect this kingdom. My place is to keep my people safe. I’ve bled for this crown, for England, and yet you stand here telling me to wait while they burn our villages, while they slaughter our people?"

"Enough!" Edward bellowed, his voice rising with fury. "You will obey my orders. You will not disobey me."

Anakin stepped even closer, his face inches from the King’s. His chest heaved with the weight of his frustration and anger. "You want me to follow your orders? You want me to stand down while France pulls the strings of this kingdom, while they use traitors like Count Aulbry to destroy us from within? No! I will not follow your orders."

Edward’s eyes blazed with fury, his jaw set like stone. "You dare defy me, Skywalker?"

"Defy you?" Anakin’s voice lowered, dangerously calm, as he stepped back, holding the King’s gaze with a fierce intensity. "Who is defying here ? You speak of loyalty to the crown, but it is you who are betraying this kingdom. It is you who would rather cling to diplomacy than protect the lives of your people."

"Watch your tongue," Edward warned, his voice cold.

"No," Anakin said, his eyes flashing with outrage. "I won’t. Who is wrong here, Your Majesty? The man who dares to fight for his people, or the one who sits idly by and lets our enemies walk all over us?"

The King’s face turned ashen with fury. "You have crossed a line, Anakin Skywalker. I declare you a traitor. A heretic."

Anakin stepped back, shaking his head, his lips curling into a bitter smile. "A heretic?" He barked out a laugh, his eyes filled with an unsettling rage. "Who’s the heretic right now, Your Majesty? The man who would rather see his country burn than admit the truth? The man who orders the death of his own for the sake of power and pride?"

The King stared at him, seething, his hand trembling with fury. "You will regret this defiance, Skywalker."

Anakin took a long, slow breath, his chest tightening with emotion. "I regret nothing. You’ve forgotten who we fight for, Edward. We fight for the people, not for your crown, not for your diplomacy. We fight for the ones who will bleed and die on these fields. And if that means defying you, then so be it."

There was a long silence, and for a moment, Anakin thought Edward might strike him. But the King simply turned on his heel, his face a mask of fury and contempt.

"You will pay for this," Edward spat, before storming out of the room.

Anakin stood there, his chest still heaving with the remnants of his rage. His fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white. The taste of betrayal and disillusionment lingered on his tongue.

He didn’t care about the title of traitor. He didn’t care about being labeled a heretic. He cared only about the lives of the men who followed him, the men who trusted him. And he knew, deep down, that he could not—would not—turn his back on them now.

The King had made his choice. And so had Anakin.

From History and Greatness of the Sacred England, XIII century

Upon the fields where England's heart doth beat, A lion stands with eyes of golden flame. Through trials fierce, he knows no quick defeat, For glory’s fire forever marks his name.

His claws have torn through ages' shifting dust, A sovereign force that none can dare to tame. With courage bold, and in his strength, we trust, As England rises from the ash and flame.

O lion, fierce in England’s noble name, His legacy is more than war’s brief flame.

Anakin stood alone in the small chapel, the cold stone walls of the sacred space a silent witness to his turmoil. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows on the floor as he dropped to his knees, his heart a storm of conflicting emotions. The news of the French march had sent his thoughts into a whirlpool of doubt and fear. But above all, it was the thought of you—of your safety, your unborn child—that held him captive, both his greatest hope and his deepest sorrow.

He clasped his hands tightly together, his knuckles white with the intensity of his grip. His breath came slow, measured, as though trying to steady himself in the face of everything that was to come. The distant hum of life outside seemed far away, as though it had no place in this moment of solitude.

"Lord," Anakin muttered, his voice barely a whisper. "Grant me strength in this trial. Grant me the courage to fight for what is right, even when the path ahead is shrouded in darkness. I ask for your guidance in this battle—for my men, for my kingdom, and for the one I hold dearer than my own life."

His thoughts drifted to you, the woman he had come to love more deeply than he had ever thought possible. The image of you, pregnant with his child, filled him with both longing and dread. He had promised you his heart, but now, as he stood on the precipice of war, he feared he might never return. The thought of leaving you behind, alone with the weight of carrying their child, crushed him.

"I do not know what lies ahead, Lord," Anakin continued, his voice trembling slightly. "I do not know if I will come back from this battle. But if it is my time, I ask for your mercy. Protect her. Protect my child. Let them know my love, even if I am not there to tell them."

A single tear fell from his eye as he bowed his head, the weight of his words pressing down on him like a heavy stone. His thoughts turned inward, to the visions he had of their child, the little girl he dreamed of. His heart ached at the thought of her growing up without him, of the moments he would miss. He could almost see her face in his mind, her dark eyes staring up at him, her small hand reaching for him.

"If she is a girl," Anakin whispered, "let her know that her father fought with honor. That I would have given my life to protect her, to protect her mother." He paused, feeling the depth of the vow. "And I would do it again, without question. For them."

Rising to his feet, Anakin took a final look around the chapel. The peacefulness of the place contrasted sharply with the war that raged outside. He closed his eyes, letting the silence wash over him for a moment, then turned toward the door, knowing his time in this sanctuary was limited.

His heart heavy, he made his way through the corridors, his steps echoing in the quiet. He had one last thing to do—one final thing before he marched into the storm.

When he found you, you were sitting by the fire, your hands resting gently on the curve of your belly, as though you could already feel the child inside, as though you could sense his presence, even in his absence. The sight of you—so calm, so serene despite everything—warmed him in a way nothing else could.

He approached quietly, standing at the threshold of the room, his eyes lingering on you for a long moment. He wished he could memorize every detail of your face, the way your eyes looked when they met his, the softness of your features that brought him such peace.

You looked up at him, a soft smile curving your lips. "Anakin," you murmured, sensing the heaviness in his posture. "What is it?"

He swallowed hard, stepping closer to you. His chest felt tight, his words stuck in his throat. He didn't want to say goodbye, not now, not like this. But there was no other choice. The world had already made its decision.

He knelt beside you, his hands reaching out to take yours in his, as though grounding himself in the love you had given him. "I’m going to fight," he said, his voice low, filled with emotion. "I don’t know if I’ll come back, but I need you to know this—no matter what happens, you are everything to me. You and our child."

Your eyes softened, a mixture of understanding and sadness in them. "Anakin, don’t say that," you whispered, your fingers brushing gently over his. "You will come back. You must."

"I hope you're right," he said, his voice hoarse. "But if I don't—if I don't make it back—promise me you’ll keep our child safe. Tell her who I was. Let her know how much I love her. How much I love you."

He paused, his forehead resting against yours, the weight of his feelings pressing down on him. "I dream of her, you know. I dream of our little girl. I know she’ll be everything I’m not, full of strength and grace, everything I want her to be. I will die knowing I fought for her—for you."

You squeezed his hands, your voice trembling as you spoke. "I promise, Anakin. She will know."

His lips hovered over yours, and for a moment, all the noise, all the chaos of the world disappeared. It was just the two of you, a fleeting moment of peace in a sea of uncertainty. And then, as if the weight of the world had finally caught up with him, Anakin kissed you—softly, gently, a kiss filled with all the love, all the regrets, and all the hopes he had for the future.

When he pulled away, his eyes were filled with unshed tears. "I love you," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Always."

“All men die one day…but few of them truly live. And I believe you made me belong in the second category, my rose” He kissed your knuckles and with that, he stood, his heart heavy with the knowledge that he might never see you again, but filled with the strength of knowing he had fought for something greater than himself.

From the Lays of General Anakin Skywalker, XIII century

My Dearest Child,

Though you have not yet entered this world, I already see you in my dreams—your laughter, your joy, the light you will bring to this land. I write to you now, though you can’t yet read my words, for they are the thoughts of a father who will love you fiercely, who will protect you with everything he is.

I want you to know, before anything else, that you are a treasure. You will grow up in a kingdom filled with both honor and strife, but know this: your name will echo through the halls of England with pride, for you will be the daughter of a man who fought not just for glory, but for the future.

I may not always be there to guide you, but I will leave you with my love, my courage, and my hope. You are my legacy, and though the battles ahead are many, I will ensure you stand on the shoulders of giants—those who fought for what was right, no matter the cost.

May your heart always know peace, my dear. And if ever you are lost or afraid, remember that your father is with you, in every victory, every struggle, every step you take.

Yours, with all my heart, Your Father, Anakin Skywalker

The winds of Coventry Castle howled against the stone walls, an unrelenting reminder of the storm brewing both outside and within the hearts of all who resided there. The echoes of war and betrayal seemed to linger in the halls, casting a shadow over everything, from the flickering candles in the corridors to the tapestry-lined chambers where you'd once shared moments of peace with Anakin.

But peace was now a distant memory.

You stood at the edge of a cold stone balcony, staring out at the horizon where the battle was brewing. Anakin was out there—leading his men, fighting with everything in him, caught in a war that seemed to have no end. And yet, you had been torn away from him. Not by your own will, but by the very man who had once held your respect—the King.

He had come to you days ago, an icy smile on his face as he ordered you away. "To Ashmore," he had said, "You’ll be safe there, away from the bloodshed. Stay there, and we will protect you. Your presence is no longer necessary here."

It had taken everything in you not to lash out at him, but his cold gaze, the finality in his words, had rendered you mute. He had sent you here for his own reasons—out of spite, out of jealousy, and out of pure revenge. Anakin’s refusal to bow before his wishes, his unwavering dedication to what was right, had only made the king’s hatred grow. And now, he sought to remove you from the battlefield—to weaken Anakin by taking you away.

Your heart had broken when the soldiers came for you, their hands rough and insistent, pushing you into a carriage with little explanation. You could barely even process what was happening before you found yourself in Ashmore Castle, a place as cold and impersonal as the walls around you. The men who occupied it, the soldiers preparing for war, barely spared you a glance.

It felt wrong—being here, away from Anakin. Every fiber of your being screamed to be by his side, to stand with him as he fought for what was right. But you had been silenced, forced to accept this new fate. Alone, in a strange castle, the sounds of war echoing closer each day.

Ashmore was in preparation for the battle that would decide the course of England’s future. The air was thick with tension, and the clatter of soldiers preparing their weapons filled the corridors. You tried to find solace in your paintings, setting them up in the cold, bare rooms of the castle. It wasn’t much, but it gave you something to hold onto—a connection to the life you once had. But each brushstroke only reminded you of what you had lost.

And now, after days of waiting, the time had come.

The armies were ready. The battle was imminent. You had no choice but to remain here, hidden behind these walls, as Anakin fought against the forces that sought to tear everything apart.

But as you stood in the courtyard, gazing at the horizon where the battle would unfold, you felt a sinking sensation in your chest. You knew Anakin would be there, fighting like he always did—fighting for you, for the kingdom, for the future of your child. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, that fate was conspiring against you both.

Suddenly, the gates of the castle creaked open, and you turned just in time to see a familiar figure approach from the distance. Your heart skipped a beat.

Anakin.

But no, it couldn’t be. He was supposed to be far away, at the front. Yet, as you blinked, your breath caught in your throat. It was him—his silhouette unmistakable against the fading light of the day. The realization hit you like a tidal wave. He had come for you.

Tears sprang to your eyes as you stepped forward, but before you could reach him, something heavy settled on your chest. The sound of heavy footsteps approaching from behind—soldiers—pulled your attention away from him. You turned just in time to see the king’s men rushing toward you, grabbing your arms.

“No,” you whispered, struggling against them. “I need to go to him. Please, let me go!”

But the soldiers, their faces impassive, only tightened their grip. One of them spoke in a low voice, their tone flat. “The king’s orders.”

You fought harder, but it was no use. They dragged you away, back toward the castle gates, where you could see Anakin’s figure growing smaller in the distance. His eyes were locked on you now, and you could feel the desperation in his gaze. He was coming closer, trying to reach you, to fight for you. But you were being torn from him, just as you had feared.

“Anakin!” you shouted, your voice breaking as the soldiers continued to pull you further away. But the noise of the battle, the urgency of the war, drowned out your voice.

You fought against the soldiers with everything you had, but the more you struggled, the further you were taken from him. You didn’t know how much time had passed before you were finally thrust into the castle, the doors slamming shut behind you. You could still see his face in your mind, his eyes—wide, terrified. He had seen you, he knew you were here. And you knew he would stop at nothing to reach you.

You stood there, heart breaking, helpless in the face of everything happening around you. Your only thought was of Anakin—his safety, his future, and the future of your child.

And then, from within the walls, you heard the battle begin. The sound of metal clashing, the roar of men at war.

Anakin was out there. And you were trapped here, with no way to help him.

But you couldn’t shake the image of his eyes—those terrified, desperate eyes—seeing you in the distance.

The battle had begun.

From the Lays of General Anakin Skywalker, XIII century

And though the storm may come and go,

In England’s name, I stand aglow.

For she, my land, my blood, my kin,

Shall rise again, through thick and thin.

[lezforsapphicwrites]

𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓯𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓲𝓷 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓶𝓮 𝓪𝓰𝓪𝓲𝓷?

pairing: elphaba thropp x glinda upland word count: 808 warnings: none summary: glinda sees her wife again after so long being apart but elphaba feels she doesn't deserve her love. (inspired by "would you fall in love with me again" from epic the musical)

Elphaba had changed in a way that she wouldn't want, Glinda thought.

The one she had known at Shiz was not the same as the Elphaba that was standing before her. Her eyes bore the horrors of the cruelty and harshness of their world. Shoulders slumped as the weight of her own expectations pulled her down to a void of neverending disappointments and losses.

And yet, she was still Elphie. Her Elphie.

The girl who cared about animals more than anyone would ever do. Who braved the mocking eyes of their peers as she moved to her own beat in the Ozdust Ballroom. Who fought against the true wicked of Oz, something she hadn't muster to do.

"You look different. You're eyes look tired." She tried to make it sound like teasing but her emotions betrayed her. Glinda took a deep breath. "Your frame is lighter. Your smile torn."

Elphaba looked away. Somehow that hurt more than the long period they had spent away from each other.

"Is it really you, my love?" Glinda reached out her hand, gently resting them on the girl's shoulder.

She thanked the heavens that Elphaba didn't flinch away from her touch. She didn't think she would survive that. Glinda needed her warmth, to wrap her arms around her and never let go. But Elphie needed space and she would give anything to her.

"I am not the woman you fell in love with. Not the girl you once adored," Elphaba muttered. "I am not your kind and gentle wife, and I am not the love you knew before."

Glinda felt her arms weakening at the loss of wamrth when Elphaba moved across the room. The light from the large, circular window had made the woman's tears sparkle as they fell. Needles pricked her heart at the sight of them. Elphie was hurting herself because of her, she thought. Fearing that her wife was burning her cheeks with her own tears.

Before she could rush to wipe them away, Elphaba spoke, "Would you fall in love with me again if you knew all I've done?"

Yes, she wanted to say. But Elphaba continued, "The things I cannot change. Would you love me all the same? I know that you've been waiting for love."

Nothing was ever going to be more true than the love she had for her. Not even the Wizard could find a spell to change that. In this room, where Elphaba was closer than she had ever been, she wasted no more time and walked to where the woman stood.

Glinda gently lifted her face and smiled. "Don't cause yourself pain over me," She said, wiping the tears away before they could burn her even more. "And don't cry. It blurs my view of your eyes."

For every night she longed for her Elphie to be beside her, to tangle her arms around her frame and feel her warmth, and for every time a fire ingnited in her chest when an Ozian would make a hurtful remark about her wife, she thought as she pressed her lips against Elphaba's. Every second of it engraved in her mind to look back on for years to come.

They pulled away, gasping for air that they didn't need when they were in each others arms. Elphaba was holding on to her, keeping her as close as their bodies would allow, and that was enough.

Glinda tucked a piece of hair behind the woman's ear. "I will fall in love with you, over and over again. I don't care how, where, or when. No matter how long it's been, you're mine." She confessed, blinking away the tears that blurred her vision. She needed to see the face of her love clearly.

"Don't tell me you're not the same person. You're always my wife and I've been waiting for you." Glinda cried, clutching the hem of Elphaba's dress tightly. Don't leave me, she thought. As long as you're here, I'll be fine.

For some reason, it felt like they were saying goodbye. Not like the one they shared at the tower of the Wizard's castle. This one felt final, like she was never seeing her again.

Glinda shook her head. No, it wasn't. They were going to make things right and tell the people the truth. Perhaps then, everyone would know that Elphaba wasn't the wicked one and they could be in each other's arms for all eternity. No more fleeing and hiding.

But even if Elphie were to flee once more, she would join her. Damn the consequences. Yes, she would not repeat the same mistake she had done in the Emerald City.

As she pulled Elphaba closer, she forgot about the farm girl that was trapped beneath them nor did she notice the bucket of water hidden at the edge of the room.

a/n: first post! this is pretty short cuz i worked on it too quickly. working on another one atm!

more of my works here: masterlist

[fairqves]

꒰ ˗ˋ HIDDEN LOVE ! ۟ ׅ ͡ ୨ৎ ˊ˗

(🐰) ──𝓝A JAEMIN﹙ 재민 ﹚ ꒰ 𝓰. oneshot ៸ fluff ៸ secret relationship ୨୧ㅤㅤ WARNiNGS : not proofread ៸ kiss ៸ petnames ❞ bf! 𝒿aemin x 𝑓! reader ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ꒰ WC : 0.8K ꒱ SYPNOSiS 𐙚 in which you and jaemin, secretly dating, share quiet dates at night and stolen moments, until one winter night, he proudly introduces you as his girlfriend, leaving you both flustered .ᐟ HEAVILY INSPIRED BY HIDDEN LOVE ── LiBRARY

THE CHILL OF THE CRISP WINTER AIR BITES AT YOUR CHEEKS as you tighten your scarf around you and slip your hand into jaemin’s pocket.

it’s something you’ve done a hundred times before—your hand fitting perfectly into his, warm and cozy.

the city is up with twinkling lights and the scent of freshly made hot chocolate from a nearby stand.

jaemin glances down at you, a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips. his fingers tighten around yours. “cold?” he asks, his voice soft but teasing.

you shake your head. “not when you’re with me.”

he chuckles, a deep, warm sound that makes you feel like you’re floating on clouds everytime you hear it. ── 𝖱𝖤𝖲𝖳 𝖡𝖤𝖫𝖮𝖶!

jaemin has always been like this—quietly attentive, ridiculously charming in his own ways.

he doesn’t have to try—just being around him feels like the sunlight touching your skin after a long, snowy night.

but there’s also a secret to your relationship.

after all, jeno’s your older brother, and your brother has always been overly protective of you—if he knew you were dating his best friend, he’d most definitely lose his mind.

so, for these past months, you and jaemin have kept this relationship just between the two of you.

it’s your little secret—a hidden love that makes every moment spent together feel like a treasure.

the two of you stroll along the glowing streets, your intertwined hands swinging back and forth between you.

the world feels cozy tonight, the streetlights colouring over the snowy sidewalks. jaemin slows his pace, matching you as he glances around the street.

it’s then when you notice someone approaching from the opposite direction—a familiar figure wrapped in a thick coat and scarf.

your heart skips a beat as jaemin stiffens beside you, his grip on your hand faltering for just a moment.

“jaemin!” the boy calls out, their voice bright and cheerful. it’s one of his acquaintances—a classmate, maybe? you’re not sure, but they definitely know him well enough to stop for a conversation.

you instinctively start to pull your hand away, but jaemin holds on tight. you glance up at him, your wide eyes questioning him, but he just gives you a reassuring smile.

“hey,” jaemin greets casually as the person comes to a stop in front of you. his tone is relaxed, but you can feel the subtle tension in his posture.

for a moment, you wonder if he’s going to make up an excuse or pretend you’re just a random friend. it wouldn’t be the first time.

but then, to your surprise, he shifts closer to you, his hand still firmly holding yours. “this is my girlfriend,” he says, his voice steady and confident.

your heart skips a beat. girlfriend. the word feels like a burst of fireworks in your chest, warm and bright.

the other person’s eyes widen slightly, but they quickly recover, offering you a polite smile and a nod.

“oh! nice to meet you,” they say, clearly caught off guard but polite nonetheless.

you manage a small, shy smile and a quiet “nice to meet you too,” but most of your focus is on jaemin.

his hand, his words, the way he’s standing so close to you—it all feels like a fever dream.

the conversation is brief, just a few pleasantries exchanged before the person waves goodbye and continues down the street. you watch them walk away, your mind still reeling from what just happened.

jaemin turns to you, his expression unreadable as he glances down at you. “are you okay?” he asks, his voice laced with concern at your blank expression.

you don’t answer—not with words, at least. instead, you stand up on your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing a quick, soft kiss to his lips.

it’s quick but full of warmth, a burst of affection you can’t hold back any longer.

when you pull away, jaemin is staring at you, his eyes wide and his cheeks dusted with pink. “w-what was that for?” he stammers, his usual confident composure completely shattered.

you grin, your heart swelling at how flustered he looks. “i’m your girlfriend,” you say simply, your tone playful. “so i can kiss you whenever i want, right?”

jaemin blinks at you, his lips parting as if to argue, but then he lets out a quiet laugh. he rubs the back of his neck, his free hand still holding yours.

“i guess you can,” he whispers , his voice tinged with amusement and shyness at your sudden demeanor. you beam up at him—for so long, you’ve been hiding your relationship, keeping it tucked away like a fragile secret.

but now, with jaemin calling you his girlfriend out loud, it feels like you’re finally stepping out into the light.

he tugs you closer, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as the two of you start walking again.

the night feels warmer now, the cold air no match for the happiness bubbling inside you.

and as you lean into jaemin’s side, you can’t help but think that this—being with him, holding his hand, hearing him call you his girlfriend—is the best feeling in the world.

© FAIRQVES 2025 do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

NOTE. jaemin being duan jiaxu just makes so much sense to me. neways can u tell i’m in my active era.. (for nct cuz fhe brainrot is so real) haechan ur next bae 😜🫰

୨୧ TAGLIST OPEN ‹𝟹 @mioons @nshmuras @suneng @pnghoon @shawnyle @laylasbunbunny @privareum @briefsaladfun @cyjzzl @sol3chu @txtlyn @d-dilemma @deezbin @iluvnikism @rikibwn @wonsprincess @niawonn @pockyyasii @kiss4noo @nineooooo @loves0ft @ancnymcnzjy @dazzlingjaeyun : COMMENT OR SEND AN ASK TBA.

[dracowars]

Can you please write Annatar braiding the reader's hair in an affection way.

peaceful | annatar

pairing: annatar x elf!reader

word count: 0,7k

summary: where annatar braids y/n's hair

a/n: first fic of this year!! and also my first ever request for rop?? thank you so much for requesting 🫶🏻 hope you enjoy a shorter & sweeter story of our man <3

warnings: sauron being soft lol

universe: the rings of power

It is late in the evening, the sun has already sunk below the horizon a few hours ago. Candlelight and the crackling fire in the fireplace illuminate the room you call home in a warm light. You have just stepped out onto the balcony and let your gaze wander over the beautiful city of Eregion when you hear the door slam shut.

With a smile, you turn around to greet your husband. Annatar steps out of the darkness of the door into the light, his long hair shimmering despite him only returning at this late hour of the day. His gaze is stoic at first, tense, but as soon as he meets your gaze, his features soften and a gentle smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he finds you there on the balcony in the moonlight. Waiting for him.

"I hope you didn't have to wait too long for me, my lady", he states elegantly, bowing his head with an amused look, before walking towards you with slow steps. Your body is wrapped in a white, soft dress, your long elvish hair falls smoothly over your shoulders and your neck is adorned by a filigree necklace.

"I would wait an eternity for you", you reply, and every word you say is filled with truth. Annatar knows that too so when he finally reaches you, his kiss is full of longing and passion. But also of affection.

There is noone else for him but you.

His hands hold you tightly at your waist while your own cup his face in an attempt to pull him even closer to you.

He literally takes your breath away, but it is he who breaks the kiss after several breathless moments, not you. Gently, he leans his forehead against yours and reaches for your hand, looking down at the shiny ring on your finger. The one ring that you will never take off ever again.

Then his hand wanders over your delicate skin, from your forearm to your shoulders, over your collarbone until he reaches your neck. His gaze is inspecting, as if he is looking for something. Something that he finally seems to find in your smooth hair. He gently pushes all your hair back over your shoulder so that your collarbone is fully exposed now.

"You are so beautiful", he whispers softly, but for some reason it looks as if this realization torments him deeply. In his blue eyes you see nothing than pure affection despite his torn expression, flames licking at his irises.

Although you are used to being touched and complimented by him, an immense heat burns up inside you. Even more so when he gently turns you around and runs his fingers through your hair.

"Tell me about your day, my love", he asks you, whispering closely to your ear as your gaze wanders over Eregion once more. As you begin to talk about your day, he continues to comb his fingers through your hair, leaving no strand unregarded. His touch, the whole gentleness and intimacy of it all, sends shivers down your whole body.

Carefully, Annatar starts braiding your hair, putting his entire focus to it. And you know everything he ever touches turns into pure perfection.

"Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve you", he suddenly interrupts your story and fixes your braided hairstyle with a clip drawn from his own hair. The bow that you carefully created out of his hair at the back of his head this morning falls apart, his hair falling into his face.

He steps in front of you now, the moon behind him giving him a halo from your point of view. All you see is him. All you feel is him.

With his fingertips, he finishes the hairstyle by pulling a few strands loose at the sides of your face. You watch him with a smile, not able to hold it back, as well as with a pounding heart. His finger slides from your temple to your chin, leaving warm spots on your skin on its wake, and lifts it, his face coming closer to yours.

"I often ask myself the same thing", you reply to his previous statement, playfully curling one of his long strands of hair around your own finger.

Annatar's eyes switch back and forth between yours, every now and then catching a glimpse at your lips. Then a genuine smile lights up his face before he leans down and unites your lips in another intense kiss.

It's peaceful moments like these that you will never forget. No matter what the future may hold. You know that Annatar will always be by your side and will love you just the way you are.

[misswynters]

Strapped up

Sevika x afab!reader / wc: ?

WARNINGS: 18+, smut again, riding, sevika with hexcore strap (i delivered), dom! sevika & switch!reader, BITING, rough rex, mating press, teasing, misspellings?

similar writings | Brothel

also on ao3 (not yet, under doorkiluv)

a/n: sipping on my ginger tea while i wait for yalls reactions, also pls give me feedback (and don’t only just like but also reblog and comment 🫶🏼)

You thought life couldn’t get any better. Standing in the same room with sevika, with whom you shared a special relationship with. You didn’t exactly know what kind of bond you guys had, but it was one filled with pleasure and love. Which brings you back to the current moment on had, sevika leaning against her bed frame. She looked amazing as always with her powerful build as a warm glow soften the edges of her place, which stood at the heart of Zaun. Her eyes followed you, a faint smirk on her lips as she watched you approach, her usual guarded expression giving way to something more inviting, almost hungry.

"Come here," she commanded softly, her voice smooth and warm, a note of challenge woven into her words. As you climbed onto her lap, Sevika's hands settled on your waist, her fingers strong and grounding as she held you close. The slight hum of her hextech prosthetic reminded you of the power she wielded over you. You couldn't help but shiver under her touch as her gaze slowly roamed over you.

As you settled, she adjusted the strap on her hexcore, its soft glow flickering against her skin as she tilted her head, a lazy grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. She looked up at you, her eyes flickering with amusement and something deeper, a silent confidence that made you feel like she knew every reaction she could pull from you before you did. You braced yourself, anticipation thrumming through your veins as her hands tightened on your hips. The strap was long, thick and had glowy blueish veins. Just by looking at it barely inches away made you feel wild, wondering how it the world it would fit.

Sevika guided you down onto her with a firm grip, setting the pace. She filled you slowly, letting you feel every inch of her as she watched your face. The sensation was overwhelming, and you couldn't hold back a moan as you sank down. You could feel the subtle hum of her strap resonate within you. Sevika's smirk widened at your reaction, a faint chuckle escaping her as she took in every flicker of response. "Good," she murmured, her voice low and approving, fingers pressing into your hips to draw you down harder, setting a steady, demanding rhythm. "That's what I like to see... you taking all of it."

Her words made your face flush, and her hands held you tight, grounding you against her hips as she gazed down towards you. The wet, squelching sounds that your folds made filled the room, mingling with your soft moans as she urged you to keep going. Every time you tried to pull back, Sevika's grip would tighten, her gaze holding you in place. “Not so fast," she whispered, a hint of a smirk pulling at her lips. "I'm not done with you yet, we are just starting."

The intensity of her hold and the firmness of her voice left you breathless, and each time you moved, she met your rhythm with an unwavering strength, amplifying the sensations that were already overwhelming. The roughness of her hands against your hips alongside the hum of the hextech strap as she bounced you on her cock, left you trembling as you tried to keep up with her.

"Look at you," Sevika murmured, her voice a mixture of admiration and amusement as she took in your flushed cheeks and parted lips. Her eyes traced over you slowly, savoring every detail as she adjusted her grip. She placed her hands around your waist as she laced her fingers together, guiding you to a deeper angle that made you gasp. "You're something else, aren't you? Never thought you'd be able to handle all of me."

With a firm grip on your waist, Sevika shifted beneath you, her strength effortlessly flipping you over so that you were now pinned beneath her. You felt a thrill at the way she moved confidently. She loomed over you, her eyes gleaming with that familiar intensity, a mixture of dominance and affection in her gaze as she took in your flushed expression.

"You trust me, don't you?" she murmured, her voice a low, tantalizing whisper as her hands found your thighs, pushing them up toward your chest. Her grip was steady, but there was an undeniable gentleness in the way she held you, ensuring you were comfortable even as she positioned you to her liking. You barely managed a nod, but that was enough for her. With a satisfied smirk, Sevika leaned forward, planting a brief, possessive kiss on your lips before she pulled back, her gaze flicking down to where your bodies met. Her strap glowed against your wet folds as she slid it between them, you were so wet that it was completely coated with your arousal.

She shifted her hips, the intensity start to build as she pushed in deeply, her pace starting slow and measured, as if she was trying to savor each thrust. But soon enough, she picked up speed, finding a pace that left you gasping, your hands clutching onto her thick biceps as she began to push into you with a force that sent shivers through you. The bed creaked beneath you, the sound punctuating each movement. However you hardly noticed, too lost in the sensation as she pushed you closer to the edge with each rapid thrust.

As Sevika held your legs pressed up to your chest, driving into you with that unrelenting rhythm, you felt yourself unraveling under her touch. The wet, slick noises filled the room, each thrust punctuated by the steady creaking of the bed. The overwhelming sensations left you clinging to her shoulders, your voice breaking into desperate, pleading gasps. "Sevika, please," you whispered, nearly breathless, your hands gripping her broad shoulders, digging in with every surge of pleasure. "Don't stop... please, just like that... harder."

A wicked smirk crossed her face as she caught the raw desperation in your voice. "So needy," she murmured, her tone thick with satisfaction. "Look at you, begging for more. You want me to ruin you, don't you?" Sevika's hands tightened on your thighs, spreading your thighs further open as she drove into you with powerful thrusts. Her gaze never leaving your face as she took in every reaction, every shiver and gasp.

You nodded, too caught up to feel anything but the sheer need flooding through you. "Yes... please," you gasped, almost incoherent as she picked up the pace, pushing deeper and harder. Your thighs shook under her iron grip, pinned against your chest, each thrust sending a surge of sensation that left you on the edge of surrender.

Driven by the intensity, you instinctively leaned forward and bit down on her shoulder, desperate to ground yourself through the torrent of pleasure. Sevika froze for a heartbeat, her breath catching, and then she let out a deep, approving growl, her gaze dark and delighted as she felt the imprint of your teeth. "Oh, you like it rough, huh?" she murmured, her voice a husky whisper as she gazed down at you. "Good. Hold on tight, then."

Instead of slowing, she surged forward, her pace turning rapid, unyielding, her thrusts deep and forceful, spurred on by the way you clung to her. "Bite me all you want," she encouraged, her voice sultry, almost daring. "I want to hear how much you need this."

"Sevika, please-don't stop," you begged, your voice breaking into soft cries as the bed protested under her relentless rhythm, creaking with each thrust that left you gasping. "I... I need more, please... harder."

She chuckled, her fingers gripping your thighs even tighter, pressing them to your chest as she drove into you with renewed fervor, clearly enjoying every sound that escaped your lips. "Oh, you're not getting off easy," she taunted, her voice rough with pleasure. "I'm not stopping until you're completely spent... until you're begging for mercy."

Each thrust sent shockwaves through your body, drawing helpless cries from your lips that only seemed to spur her on. Her gaze flicked down between you, and a wicked grin crept onto her face as she noticed the slick, glistening mess where you were connected, a white ring forming with each deep push. "Look at this," she murmured, her voice thick with pride. "Look at the mess you're making for me."

Her words sent a shiver through you, heightening the need coursing through your veins, and you clung to her even tighter, breathless, pleading. "Please, Sevika... I can't... I can't take much more."

"There you go," she whispered, her voice a mixture of praise and satisfaction as she watched you unravel beneath her. "Taking my cock so well... just like I knew you would." Her words sent a thrill through you, and you felt yourself clench around her, your breath hitching as she continued to move with unyielding precision. Her pace only grew, each thrust bringing a fresh wave of pleasure that left you breathless, your body arching up into her as you felt the pressure building to an overwhelming peak. She noticed, of course-she noticed everything-and her smirk widened as she leaned down, her mouth brushing against your ear as she murmured, "Relax."

The way she spoke, commanding yet tender, was enough to send you over the edge. You felt yourself shudder beneath her, your release leaving a mess between you both, soaking the sheets and intensifying the slick sounds with each movement. Sevika slowed only slightly, savoring the way you trembled beneath her, her gaze filled with a rare softness as she held you close, letting the softness of the moment sink in.

As the aftermath of the moment settled over you both, Sevika shifted back just enough to look down, a smirk slowly curling at the corners of her mouth. She took in the scene beneath her the sheets soaked and rumpled, your flushed face, and the way your body still trembled slightly from the intensity of it all.

"What a mess," she murmured, a teasing glint in her eyes as she caressed her thumb along your thigh, feeling the warmth that lingered there. "Didn't know you had it in you." Her tone was low, playful, and laced with that familiar, effortless confidence. "You really couldn't hold back, could you?"

"Maybe... maybe I wouldn't have made such a mess if you hadn't been so relentless," you shot back, meeting her gaze with a playful glint of your own, though the flush on your cheeks betrayed just how affected you still were. "Besides... I think you enjoyed it just as much."

Sevika let out a low, approving chuckle, her fingers still lazily tracing over your thigh. "Oh, I enjoyed every second," she replied, leaning down until her lips brushed against the shell of your ear.

"And don't think I didn't notice how you were clinging to me, begging for more." You bit your lip, her words making your heart race again. "You're the one who kept pushing me. I... I could barely keep up," you admitted, voice soft yet tinged with playful defiance. "You make it impossible to resist."

Sevika's smirk deepened, her thumb stroking along your jawline as she took in every detail of your expression. “Good," she teased. "I want you like this-completely undone, messy, all because of me."

You shivered under her gaze, but you found yourself smiling, a bit of daring creeping into your voice. "Then maybe... next time, you should try to keep up with me."

Her brows lifted, clearly intrigued by the challenge, and her smirk softened into something warmer, more intimate. "Oh, I'm looking forward to it."

to be continued…

taglist: @i02elss @diffusebread @tsukiroe @iamastar @angel4youu @fict1onallyobsessed @blckbny @littlyamadeus @sum0y @girln1ghtm4re @kissyslut @jayden-prentiss @poppyluvsworld @averysmallfox @cacston @indigospinels @bakugous-titties @yer-boiiii @sevikitty @marinayadayada @urnewghostfriend @sincerely-forest @thefulcrumfiles @srtctra @themostlesbianever @ittiwdwysylm @xxblairslairxx @invadergir45 @wokensiren @thesevi0lentdelights @fizzyypopp @k2-p @idk2anym @lucidtobio @mvistl @vampthrobbb @theresascove @trulycarini @her-gayness @savethegoddamturtles @isabelly7801 @atinytrashcan @abbyssgf @maneskinwh0re @lovebbpotato @morphids @missevillyn @sevyscoven @elsbunny

banner: @cafekitsune

[d3stinyist1red]

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄᴇʟᴇʙʀɪᴛʏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

yan celebrity who everyone likes and adores

yan celebrity who you texted for no reason at all, it wasnt even that bad it was just

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

Y/nis_daddysigma

wsg lil bro

nice clothes 🙏

-----------

yan celebrity who decided to check his insta messages that day, scrolling through the thousands of messages his fans sent him until he randomly picked one

yan celebrity who decided to respond to you

----------

Theyluvme

thanksss :3

---------

yan celebrity who immediately begins texting back and forth with you, you were SHOCKED ASF bc why is this random millionaire tryna keep convo with you..

yan celebrity who you managed to captivate within a small moment of time, immediately trying to text you every second of his day, kicking his feet back and forth when he texts you

yan celebrity who is hooked, waiting for your messages back, feeling so good when he hears that familiar buzz from his phone signalling that his wifey texted him

yan celebrity who thinks about you 24/7 now, thinking about who you were with, if they were a bad influence, if he should install more cameras in your house,

yan celebrity who literally fantasizes about your guys future, he decided that he WAS gonna carry your baby he does NOT care

Yan celebrity who can't handle it anymore, needing to be near you in real life, and not just him stalking you

yan celebrity who meets you the first time in real life after all those face time calls and texts messages, literally clinging onto you a koala, LITERALLY HIS BODYGAURD HAD TO PULL HIM OFF YOU😭😭

yan celebrity who gives you VIP tickets every time he has a concert, literally rambling about you to his bodyguard who wants to go home ( BODYGAURD does NOT get paid 😭🙏🙏)

yan celebrity who instantly notices you in the crowd, waving at you, heart pounding against his chest and performing his best at the concert to impress you

yan celebrity who escorts you backstage, and hovers WAYY too close to you, trying to find any and every excuse to touch you (he smacked your ass and told you that he saw a fly on it and he wanted to kill it, there was no fly 💀)

yan celebrity who anytime you try to put some distance between you both, pulls you even closer, giving you more attention, more of him

yan celebrity who literally cries when you finally decided to jerk him off, watching TikTok on your phone as he crumbles into a whimpering mess, arching his back and everything in front of you

Yan celebrity who buys you anything and everything you want, taking you to many country's every week saying that 'Dont worry about it, baby! I just feel like I should do this for my wifey!' (he thinks you guys were married as soon as you jerked him off, you've literally told him you only helped his problem bc he was about to perform and he wasn't gonna be able to perform with his full potential if he was 🧱)

Yan celebrity whose hands always lingers on your arms, loving to squeeze and hold them as a way to show his love and clingyness for you

Yan celebrity who texts you corny shit

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

Theyluvme

bae this is ur sign to breed me

Y/n_daddysigma

get the fuck out my dms bro

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

I_luvy/n_pls_eatmeout_n/n

Y/nis_daddysigma

bro just put the ketchup packets in the bag bruh

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

I_luvy/n_pls_eatmeout_n/n

pls eat me out

pls edge me

pls

pretty pls

im going to touch you so good tonight

Y/nis_daddysigma

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

GUYS I GOT LAZY ASF LMAOOO

[kokomyass]

skincare routine

thinking about doing skincare on your hubby nanamin...

"Baby… sit still… I'm almost finished," you murmur, your voice gentle as you pour a small amount of moisturizer into your hands. You rub your palms together, warming the lotion before you begin to delicately massage it into your husband's face.

Nanami sits patiently before you, his eyes closed in peaceful surrender. His strong chin rests against your abdomen as you stand between his legs, giving you full access to his perfectly sculpted features.

"Of course, my love. Take your time," Nanami’s deep, resonant voice rumbles, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

You continue to apply the moisturizer, your fingers moving tenderly across his face. His skin, smooth and radiant, glistens under the soft glow of the lights. You can't help but admire the way his freshly washed hair, still damp, clings to his forehead, with the occasional drop of water trailing down his neck.

Nanami is dressed in a loose-fitting dressing gown, the fabric parting just enough to offer you a tantalizing view of his muscular chest and broad shoulders. The sight makes your heart race, and you marvel at how incredibly lucky you are to have this Greek god of a man as your husband.

After lingering for a few moments, lost in admiration, you lean down to cup his face in your hands, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. Nanami responds instantly, his kiss warm and eager.

"All done, Nanamin," you say, a bright smile lighting up your face as you pull back slightly to meet his gaze.

He opens his eyes, looking up at you with a soft, affectionate smile. "Thank you, my wife," he murmurs, his voice filled with warmth and gratitude. His hands slide up to gently hold your waist, his touch firm yet comforting.

You chuckle softly, running your fingers through his damp hair as you feel his grip tighten slightly, pulling you closer. "Anything for you," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. His eyes never leave yours, the intensity of his gaze making your heart flutter.

Nanami leans forward, resting his forehead against your stomach, a contented sigh escaping his lips. "You spoil me, you know that?" he says, his voice muffled but rich with affection.

You brush a stray lock of hair from his face, your heart swelling with love. "You deserve it," you say simply, the sincerity in your voice clear.

He tilts his head up, capturing your lips in another kiss, this one deeper and more lingering. When he finally pulls away, there's a softness in his expression that takes your breath away. "I’m the luckiest man in the world to have you," he says, his voice filled with quiet conviction.

Your cheeks warm at his words, and you can’t help but smile even wider. "And I'm the luckiest to have you, Nanami," you whisper back, your heart overflowing with emotion.

The two of you stay like that for a moment longer, wrapped up in each other's presence, before he finally stands, pulling you into a warm embrace. As his arms envelop you, you realize that moments like this—simple, tender, and filled with love—are the ones you cherish most.

credit to artist ayushnz