#I LOVE MAKING PEOPLE SMILE AND BEING THERE FOR THEM

[maskedbyghost]

Hear me out, possessive reader plays a prank, or maybe to see how it would work out and starts acting wayyy less possessive, to the point of being a normal partner..

I NEED SI REACTION

Anon, I love your fucking mind. I had the best time writing this, literally giggling and kicking my feet while imagining Simon spiraling because his crazy girl went "normal mode" on him and he couldn’t handle it for even a second. BASED ON THIS IDEA

You barely looked at him when the waitress called him handsome.

You just smiled to yourself and kept sipping your drink, didn’t glare at her, didn’t grab his hand and lace your fingers through his, didn’t scoot closer in your seat or wrap your arms around him like you used to, and Simon sat there blinking at you like he’d just been slapped across the face.

And then when you walked past a group of girls at the grocery store and one of them giggled and said something about his arms, you didn’t even flinch, didn’t even frown, didn’t even murmur something low and territorial under your breath the way you always did, and Simon actually almost tripped over the cart trying to get a reaction out of you, heart hammering so hard.

You used to get pissed if he so much as looked at another woman too long, used to give him that smug little smirk when you caught someone staring at him, used to lean into him and press your mouth to his ear and mutter "mine" so dark and low that it left him shivering for hours, and now? Now you were just... chill.

Way too chill.

He caught himself thinking insane things like maybe you were losing interest, maybe you were getting ready to leave, maybe you finally realized he wasn’t enough for you, maybe you were pulling away slow and silent to make it easier when you walked out for good, and by the time you got home, Simon’s brain was working overtime, replaying every interaction, every glance, every smile you had given that wasn’t just for him, every time you hadn't touched him when you should have.

You didn’t steal his hoodie when he tossed it on the couch.

You didn’t scroll through his phone and make snarky comments about the girls who liked his photos.

You didn’t pull into his lap when he sat down to watch TV.

You didn’t tell him to shower because he "smelled like other people," which he always secretly loved, even though he rolled his eyes and grumbled about it every time.

You just... existed next to him.

Detached.

Simon sat there on the couch while you scrolled on your phone, completely casual, legs tucked under you, not touching him at all, and he was spiraling so badly he almost convinced himself he could physically see the relationship disintegrating in real time, piece by miserable piece.

He thought about asking if you still loved him.

He thought about proposing on the spot just to lock you down before you could change your mind.

He thought about texting Johnny and asking him if it was normal to feel like your entire world was slipping out from under you because your girlfriend wasn’t being a possessive lunatic for five seconds.

Finally, when you stood up and stretched and said, "I'm gonna head to bed" without even glancing at him, without even saying goodnight or trying to drag him with you, Simon couldn’t take it anymore.

He launched off the couch and followed you, heart pounding like he was about to get left behind at the airport or something, stomach twisted into a knot.

You climbed into bed and flipped onto your side, facing away from him like it was nothing, like you hadn’t spent months curling around him like a vine the second he lay down.

He just stood there at the foot of the bed, breathing way too hard for a normal human being, feeling an honest-to-God panic attack brewing in his chest.

"Love," he said, his voice way shakier than he wanted it to be.

You didn’t even roll over. "Hmm?"

He swallowed hard, hands fisting at his sides. "You don’t want me anymore."

You snorted. Actually snorted. "What are you talking about?"

Simon clenched his jaw so hard it hurt. "You—you’re not even—you didn’t get mad when that girl flirted with me. You didn’t steal my hoodie. You didn’t call me yours even once. You’re acting like we’re—" his voice cracked and he cursed under his breath, "—like we’re normal."

You turned slowly, propping yourself up on your elbow, and the look you gave him was so infuriatingly calm he almost burst into tears on the spot.

"You mean," you said, so evenly it made his eye twitch, "like a normal girlfriend who trusts her boyfriend?"

He stared at you, chest heaving, entire body screaming at him that something was wrong.

"You’re gonna leave me," he said, absolutely sure of it, absolutely certain this was the beginning of the end.

You blinked at him for a second, like you were trying very hard not to laugh in his stupid, panicking face, and then you moved so fast he barely had time to react—you were grabbing him by the front of his shirt, hauling him down onto the bed, straddling his hips, and pinning him there with your thighs as your hands locked around his neck, firm but not tight, just enough to make him shut up and listen.

"Listen to me, you stupid, beautiful man," you said, voice low and furious in that way that made every nerve in his body light up, "you need me just as much as I need you. You belong to me. You hear me? You are fucking mine. I’m not going anywhere; I’m never fucking leaving you. I don't want normal; I want you wrapped around my fucking finger where you belong. Don’t ever doubt that again."

You leaned in closer, your nose brushing his, your hands still gripping his neck just enough to keep him pinned under you, and you added, your voice dropping even lower, smug and wicked, "And maybe I wanted you to lose your fucking mind for a bit. Wanted you to see how much you love it when I’m unhinged about you."

Simon just exhaled like he’d been punched in the stomach and kissed at the same time, his whole body sagging against the bed.

He groaned, almost whining, burying his face against your chest with a muffled, desperate, "Fuckin’ hell, don’t ever do that to me again, you psycho."

But his arms were wrapping around you like steel, holding you so tight, and when you laughed and tugged his hair gently, he actually sighed in relief, like his whole world had finally clicked back into place.

"You’re crazy," he muttered again, not even trying to sound annoyed, his voice almost grateful.

"You love it," you said against his hair, grinning wide enough your cheeks hurt.

"Yeah," he breathed, voice raw and low and real, "yeah, I fuckin’ do. I need you crazy. Need you to ruin me a little. Keep me yours."

You kissed the side of his head, smug and sweet and savage all at once, and Simon just kept breathing you in, letting that awful gnawing terror bleed out of him one slow second at a time until there was nothing left but you, your hands, your voice, your body wrapped around him like armor, pulling him deeper, anchoring him exactly where he belonged.

And he was fine, better than fine actually, and exactly where he needed to be.

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

i can't even explain how much i love this idea...

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6

[ozzgin]

You plan to throw them a surprise party, they think you're leaving the school. Misunderstandings should be avoided when you're dealing with a pack of obsessively attached students, yet here you are. content: gender neutral reader, yandere horde, parody, kidnapping, Patreon commission

[Yandere School Masterlist]

You’ve been acting strange lately. As the end of the year approaches, so has your behaviour become increasingly suspicious: acting emotional at random times, frequently reminiscing your arrival at Yandere School, asking your classmates to take another photo in order to commemorate the moment. Something is about to happen.

“A surprise party?”

Your mother eyes you curiously, putting the cutlery down. You nod, wiping the corner of your mouth with a napkin, and your father hums without gazing up from his 1001 Ways to Stalk book.

“I just wanted to thank everyone for helping me all this time,” you explain with a faint blush, idly nudging your breakfast around the plate. “To be honest with you, I don’t think I would’ve passed any of my classes without them.”

Your statement is by no means an exaggeration. As it turns out, sheer determination alone does not necessarily compensate for lack of talent or proper skill. You wanted to follow your parents’ footsteps, yet you quickly discovered that having a dream wasn’t merely enough to compete against the true elites of the yandere world. It was out of the kindness of your classmates and staff that you nonetheless succeeded. Your teachers stayed behind with you, your classmates wasted their weekends helping you through every step of the homework. To think such a fierce, cut-throat community would go against its very nature and extend unconditional support, to you of all people...Ah, you’re getting flustered again.

“That’s a fantastic idea, honey,” your mother encourages with a warm smile. “I’m sure they will love it.”

Meanwhile, somewhere away from your peaceful morning meal, the students are gathered with roughened faces and clenched fists, weighted down by an unspoken tension.

“I think it’s already obvious to everyone here,” a young man declares sombrely, taking a moment to observe the masses, “that (Y/N) is most likely considering dropping out.”

“How could this happen,” someone else shouts, voice breaking theatrically. “We did everything to keep their grades up. I’m certain it worked; I broke into the school’s grading system to confirm for myself!”

“Maybe we were too involved,” someone sheepishly suggests.

“Nonsense.”

“Well, they did catch us in the changing rooms that one time,” someone admits. 

“Ah, what about the time we stole their childhood albums to make copies for our shrines? (Y/N)’s mom almost killed us!”

“Don’t forget when our coach got caught sniffing (Y/N)’s confiscated jacket.”

“Can you blame him? That scent’s heavenly.”

Everyone nods in approval, then scrambles back into a focused frown after being scolded by the apparent leader of the pack. We must stay focused, he warns with authority.

This is no laughing matter. If you were to transfer to a different school, they would lose their one and only Darling! There’s no telling how the students and staff will react; there could be riots, wars, utter chaos. One could even go as far as to say that your fate no longer depends on your own whims. Your presence is of political importance, potentially causing irremediable damage to all involved parties if you’d ever make a rash decision.

“Do you have a date in mind,” your mother asks, taking away the empty plates.

You shake your head confidently, standing up from the table.

“We must settle this quickly, gentlemen,” the leader warns. “Mark down the date in your calendars.”

“Could it be that we got the time wrong,” your father probes, tapping his foot impatiently.

“No, I’m certain it’s today,” the woman retorts, checking her watch.

The classroom is overflowing with dazzling party elements, from balloons, to colourful garlands, to tables cluttered with snacks and appetizers; yet it’s missing the most important element – the people. You!

You shake your head to no avail. The blindfold is tightly secured over your eyes, and the intricate knots roped around your body leave no room for any kind of movement. You can tell you’re presently tucked in the trunk of a car, though you’ve no idea where said car is headed or why you’re folded in here to begin with.

Did you forget about some school appointment? No, the next kidnapping simulation should be after the holidays. You’re also rather confident you haven’t accidentally promised to be the study partner of some classmate on this day in particular. You should know; you have a thick scheduling notebook just for this purpose, given most of the school seems to be eager to tie you up and pretend to steal you away. Whatever happened to that third year who actually tried to leave the country with you? Despite your reassurance that you never once feared for your life, they still suspended him.

Ah, but now is not the time to daydream about the good old days. You have a party to attend. Your parents should already be at school, and you’d guess that most of your friends are on their way there. What will they think once they realize their host is missing? What a deplorable way to show them your gratitude!

Before you can consider how to escape this predicament, the door opens with nonchalance, and you’re carefully carried out and placed onto the ground. The blindfold is swiftly removed, causing you to squint your eyes against the sudden avalanche of light.

“What are you guys doing here,” you mumble in shock, gawking at more than half the school standing across from you.

“Don’t do this to us, (Y/N),” one girl cries out, collapsing to her knees and punching the ground for additional effect.

“What did I say about emotional blackmail,” the leader grunts. He snaps his fingers, and a pair of students lift the offender up, dragging her to the back of the group as she shouts in protest.

“Do excuse our methods, (Y/N),” he proceeds to explain with the calculated tone of someone deep in negotiations, “but you have to understand we’re all struggling to accept your decision. If we have ever wronged you or made you feel uncomfortable, let us know and we shall ensure immediate punishment for it!”

“Wait, what decision?”

“To leave Yandere School,” someone bawls, the others lowering their gaze. “We won’t accept it! Never!”

There’s a moment of silence as you process the words, lips pursed in confusion.

“Don’t lie to us, you’ve been acting strange for the past few weeks.”

“I mean, yeah, I was...planning a surprise party to, uh, thank you for all your help. Although I can see why you’d think it was a goodbye announcement instead,” you say, letting out an awkward chuckle.

Oh. That’s what it was. Well, it makes sense. It’s definitely something you’d do, upon further consideration. The crowd erupts in a murmur, and the leader of the pack rubs his temples, visibly humiliated to be caught in this farce of a misunderstanding. With ears flushed red, he quietly asks you for the location, then scrambles to retrieve the car.

“I’m so glad they showed up,” your mother sighs in relief, gesturing to a nearby teacher. “I was worried I might have to use the stun gun, had anything happened to my little (Y/N).”

A couple of your classmates swallow dryly, tugging at their collars. It’s the second time they’ve narrowly escaped death at the hand of your parents.

One student is angrily stuffing his mouth with some of the appetizers, trying to hold back the tears. If he knew it was all just a misunderstanding, he would’ve tried his luck with you instead of chauffeuring you around. Good Lord, to think you were all tied up, just for him, and he fumbled it.

[sknyuz]

prompt — “i’m so undeniably screwed for this woman.”

pairing — woozi x reader

genre — fluffy fluff, opposites attract, tiny bit of woozi’s inner turmoil but in a cute way

warnings — light swearing, mutual pining, woozi being emotionally constipated but adorable about it

word count — 600(?) i literally planned longer but my brain farted

note: nonchalant woozi + sunshine reader <3 thank you for this request hehe.

masterlist

he’s watching you again.

not in a weird way. not in a creepy way. probably.

it’s just—you’re laughing. again. and it’s the kind of laugh that bursts out of you like soda fizz, bright and sparkling, and it fills the whole studio. and he’s just—well...

“hyung,” seungkwan says, walking past with his laptop and a raised brow, “you’re staring again.” he sing-songs, rolling his eyes.

woozi blinks, caught.

“i’m not,” he replies, flatly.

“sure,” seungkwan sings, disappearing down the hall.

woozi sighs and sinks further into his chair. you’re sitting cross-legged on the studio couch, scrolling through your phone, earbuds in and completely oblivious to the absolute chokehold you’ve put him in.

and that’s the problem. you always are.

you’re warm, expressive, a walking serotonin shot. you light up every room you walk into and talk with your hands and cry over dog videos and compliment strangers’ outfits just because. you're the type of person who remembers birthdays, texts people good luck before big meetings, and bakes cookies on random tuesdays "just because you felt like it."

and woozi?

woozi is the guy who pretends not to hear compliments because he doesn’t know how to take them, he expresses love through perfectly mixed vocal tracks and buying your favorite snacks and pretending he’s not checking his phone every two minutes waiting for your reply.

and yet you’re here all the time.

you come by the studio even when he doesn’t ask. you bring coffee and snacks and once a tiny plush keychain because "it looked like you and i couldn't not buy it." you ask about his day like you really want to know. you hug him goodbye even though he never hugs back (not properly, anyway).

and sometimes you sit quietly beside him for hours, just vibing, while he works on music. humming under your breath. asking questions about things he thought no one ever noticed. like the way he softens the instrumental under the bridge to highlight the vocals. or how he layers harmonies to make the chorus sound fuller.

you notice everything—and it’s driving him insane.

because he’s not supposed to feel this soft. not when he barely knows what to do with his feelings half the time, not when you smile at him like you know something he doesn’t, like you’re waiting for him to catch up.

“you okay?” you ask suddenly, pulling out your earbuds and tilting your head at him. he startles slightly, coughing. “yeah.”

“you were spacing out,” you grin. “thinking hard, genius?”

he huffs a laugh, turns back to his screen. “something like that.”

you shuffle over and peer at his monitor, chin on his shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world. he doesn’t move. doesn’t breathe. you’re close enough that he can smell your shampoo. something citrusy. fresh. “is this the new demo?” you whisper, like it’s a secret.

he nods.

“can i hear it?”

“it’s not done yet.”

“i don’t care.” you whisper, leaning in close to his ear.

and he sighs, already knowing that he’d lost to you with just one look. he hits play and pretends his heart isn’t doing backflips while you listen with that furrowed brow and soft smile. you always listen like this—like the song is a person you’re trying to understand.

when it ends, you turn to him, eyes wide. “woozi. that’s so good. it sounds like falling in love.”

he snorts, ducking his head. “that’s not what it’s about.”

“still feels like it,” you shrug.

he glances at you, a little helpless. you’re too close. too real. too much.

“you always say the dumbest stuff,” he mutters, but his voice is weirdly fond. you grin at this like you know you’ve won something. “you love it.”

and that’s the thing, isn’t it?

he does.

god help him, but he does. and his grumpy disposition falters as he rubs his palm into his eyes.

“i’m so undeniably screwed for this woman,” he mutters under his breath, almost too quiet to hear.

oh, but you hear it.

you blink, going still. lips part like you’re about to say something, but nothing comes out. instead, you stare at him with an amused look on your face.

his eyes widen slightly, and for the first time in a long time, he feels his composure crack.

“…shit,” he curses, throwing his head back. “did i say that out loud?”

you blink again. then smile, slow and warm and soft enough to melt him right there in the chair.

“yeah,” you say. “you did.”

a beat passes. he opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again.

“…okay.” he pathetically mumbles,

and then you’re laughing. again. that same fizzy, unstoppable laugh, and you bump your shoulder into his and say, “about time.”

he stares at you, and you stare back. then you reach over and take his hand—gently, casually, like you’ve done it a hundred times—and squeeze.

“don’t worry,” you whisper. “seems like we’re both in trouble, then. you make me feel like i got a few screws loose, lee jihoon.”

and woozi, ever the calm, composed, nonchalant musical genius that he is—completely short-circuits.

𐔌 . ⋮ taglist .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ @ateez-atiny380 @alien0n3arth @cuppasunu

join here!

[cameronsbabydoll]

DREW STARKEY X YOUNGER!DITZY!READER where drew fans are like there’s no way that drew and her fuck she’s to ditzy. And in reality half the time when he’s in her she’s gets very distracted if she’s on top.

people online have opinions.

lots of them.

you don’t read comments anymore—drew doesn’t let you—but you hear the whispers.

you know what they say.

you know what they think.

and if you’re being honest... it’s not that far off.

because half the time you’re riding him—pretty and pink and pouty on top—you get distracted.

like, easily distracted.

you’ll be bouncing and gasping and making those desperate little sounds he loves, and then suddenly you’re gasping for a whole different reason, leaning down to touch the gold chain around his neck like you forgot what you were doing.

"baby," he grits out, fingers digging into your hips, "focus."

but you’re too busy giggling and asking where he bought the necklace.

or telling him you like his hair pushed back like that.

or playing with his fingers when he tries to guide you faster, completely oblivious to how he’s dying underneath you.

he always lets out this choked-off laugh, somewhere between wrecked and obsessed.

because nobody gets under his skin like you do.

nobody makes him lose his mind the way you do—smiling down at him, glossy lips parted, like you don’t even realize you’re the prettiest, sweetest, dumbest little thing to ever sit on top of him.

"fuck," he rasps, eyes heavy, "you’re so cute i can’t even be mad."

and you just beam at him—proud of yourself—before forgetting to keep moving altogether, too busy tracing the veins on his arms with glittery nails.

outside the internet screams.

inside his bedroom, you’re making him fall apart without even trying.

[aislinregin]

I don't like getting political anymore. I have too much to protect, too much that leaves me and people I love profoundly vulnerable in the current climate. But I feel like I have to say this, so I'm going to do something that makes me sick to my stomach: I'm going to censor myself.

I have always told myself, my partners, my friends, my children that when you're getting the measure of someone, you should definitely trust your gut. Or your pet, whichever gets there first. Animals have a keen sense for danger, and your gut is just the part of you that doesn't realize you're supposed to be a civilized human. But also, possibly even more importantly, people always tell you who they are eventually. It might take a while, they might put on a good show for years. But sooner or later, people always tell you who they are and what they want to do. That can look different in different people. Let me give you an example.

When I was seventeen I started dating a guy I worked with. He was 19, so only a little older, but where I lived he was a legal adult so there was definitely a power dynamic at play that I was not equipped to navigate safely. This guy said all the right things, made all the right moves, for months. And the whole time my gut was whispering "this isn't right, something is wrong." But I could prove it, not even to myself, so I told myself I was imagining it. I was not imagining it. One day I was riding in the backseat of a car with this guy and he wanted to go to a friend's party. But it had been a long day for me and I was tired and I knew his friends were the type who would want to drink a lot of beer and act foolish and I was just not in the mood. So I said that was fine but he could go by himself because I wanted to go home and read a book. He said "no, we're going to the party." And I said "No, you can go if you want but I'm going home."

And then he slapped me across the face.

He did it once. I think it surprised him how little I reacted (it wasn't the first time I'd been slapped, it wasn't even the hundredth). I looked him in the eye and I remember very clearly that my gut was suddenly louder than a bullhorn: "YOU KNEW THIS WAS WRONG, AND NOW HE'S SHOWN YOU HOW."

So I smiled, all coy and sweet, and unbuckled my seatbelt to scoot over like I was going to cuddle up to him and "apologize." Then I unbuckled his seatbelt, reached across him, opened the door of the car, and shoved him out of the car. It was moving, slowly through a neighborhood, and the driver was so shocked he slammed on the brakes while I closed the door and locked it. The now ex boyfriend was screaming like he'd been shot (he was fine, was barely bruised). I told the driver that if he didn't drive me home right then I was calling the cops.

All that to say that people will always tell you who they are and what they want eventually. If they're being honest, what they say won't change much over time, just as they grow and evolve. You can track those changes, be part of them. But if they're lying or putting on a mask, sooner or later they'll slip up and then you'll know. What you do next will tell them a lot: it will tell them if you're going to let them be who they really are, if they can continue to use and abuse you. Trump has never been anything but brutally honest about who he is. He has been telling us from the start who he is and what he wants. And the whole damn country or even world has been scrambling to assure us that it's fine, he can't do those things, we have all these things that protect us (Congress, police, the military, the Constitution). But I have been listening to Trump and his people. I've heard everything they've said. They've told us who they are. And when people tell you who they are, the trick is to take them at their word. Believe them. So you know what? I believe him. But I can't shove him out of a moving car. I can get out of the car though. It's happened before. It's happened before here. We have a secret history no one wants to talk about, one with mass graves under residential schools less than two hours from where I sit right now, chemically castrated queers, non consensual lobotomies on autistics and other neurodivergents, internment camps and forced migrations and outright fucking massacres. What Trump and his puppeteers want is not out of line with this country's soul. This is not new. This is what this country has always been. It's time to believe it. It's time to get out of the fucking car.

Let's connect some dots here

The Trump administration kidnaps and sends hundreds of people to a prison camp in El Salvador with no due process (meaning they never have to prove these people committed whatever offence the Admin claims)

The Administration sets the precedent that anyone, up to green card holder and naturalized citizens, will be subject to this for practicing free speech in a way the Administration doesn't like

The Administration puts out two Executive Orders, one which says they believe trans people and parents of trans children are all sexual offenders and another that anyone who criticizes Israel is a terrorist

The President puts out a statement, in public, saying he wants to find ways to send US citizens to those foreign prison camps

The Administration directly defies 2 different SCOTUS decisions that say anyone who is deported must get due process and (this one a unanimous decision) they must return a wrongfully deported man

The US President now tells the President of El Salvador, again in public, that they will need to expand their facilities because he wants to start sending "homegrown criminals" to El Salvador very soon

We aren't even in boiling the frog territory any more, we're in a flash frier.

Like I hate sounding like a fucking tinfoil hat nutjob, but it's clear as day, right? He's saying exactly what he wants to do. And no one is doing anything about it. They're just saying "hey that's illegal!" and then letting it happen anyway.

[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤADDICTIONㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Roy Harper x Fem Reader

☆⁠ HEADCANON : How Would He Be When He's Obsessed?

☆⁠ NOTES : English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

It doesn’t start pretty. It starts with you pissing him off.

You were a little too mouthy for his taste, too unimpressed by his sharp aim and cocky grin. He didn’t like the way you looked right through him, past the sarcasm, past the good-ol’-boy act. You saw something in him — the anger, the brokenness, the bleeding parts he covered with jokes. And you didn’t flinch.

That’s what did it.

You didn’t flinch.

Roy is used to flinching. People either pity him or write him off, tired of his rehab records and near-death decisions. But you? You looked him in the eye and told him to shut up when he was being annoying. You called him out when he was hiding behind jokes. You treated him like he mattered — not because he was Arsenal, not because he was a hero — just because he was Roy.

He’s not used to being seen.

At first, he tells himself he just likes being around you. That’s all. Normal stuff. You make him laugh. You keep him grounded. You don’t try to fix him, and that feels better than any rehab or therapy ever has.

But then he starts thinking about you too much.

Your voice gets stuck in his head like a song. He catches himself texting you dumb memes just to make you smile. Starts checking your social media at 3am when he can’t sleep. Starts memorizing the way you talk, the things you like, the stupid brands of candy you eat.

He’s already obsessed, but he doesn’t admit it yet.

Until someone flirts with you.

That’s when the mask cracks.

He’s not calm. He’s not cool. He’s not normal about it. He gets snappy, territorial. Not in front of you — he respects you too much for that — but the guy who flirted with you? Roy breaks three of his ribs during sparring and calls it an accident. No one believes him.

When he finally realizes he’s in deep, it scares him.

He’s been through hell. Lost people. Made mistakes. Done things he can’t take back. He doesn’t deserve something soft and kind like you. But that doesn’t stop the obsession from growing.

He starts doing things behind your back. Quiet things. Dangerous things.

He finds out where you live — not in a creepy way, he tells himself — just in case you ever need him. He follows you home a few times, watches from rooftops just to make sure you’re safe. No one sees him. He’s too good for that.

He tracks the people in your life. Your coworkers. Your friends. That ex you never talk about? Roy knows everything now. And if any of them ever hurt you — they won’t even know it was him.

He loves you quietly, violently.

He keeps little pieces of you. Things you leave behind. A pen you forgot. A coffee cup you tossed. You never notice they’re missing. He keeps them in a drawer, like trophies. He knows it’s not healthy. He doesn’t care.

He starts writing texts he never sends. “I miss you.” “I want you.” “I love you.” Then deletes them. You’re too good. Too normal. You’d run if you knew how deep it went.

But God, when you smile at him like you mean it? When you touch his arm, or lean your head on his shoulder after a long day?

It makes him feel real.

So he waits. Watches. Obsesses. Protects.

And the day you say, “Roy, I think I love you,” his whole world shifts.

Because now it’s not just obsession. It’s permission.

And he’s never letting you go.

It’s different now that you love him.

Now he doesn’t have to hide the way his eyes linger too long. Now he can trace your jaw with his fingers and call it affection, not fixation. Now he can sleep in your bed and press his face into your neck like he’s trying to inhale you. And he does. He does.

But obsession doesn’t get softer when it’s fed. It gets louder. Hungrier.

At first, he tries to be normal. Dates. Sleepovers. Stupid inside jokes. He gets you flowers — steals them from a villain’s estate, but hey, they’re still pretty. You make him laugh. He makes you feel safe.

But that voice in his head — the one that says you’re his, only his — never shuts up.

You don’t notice how he starts pulling you closer whenever other guys are around. How his hand finds your waist just a little too tightly when someone looks at you wrong. How his eyes go dead-cold when someone makes you laugh in a way he thinks only he should.

He tells himself he trusts you. And he does.

It’s everyone else he doesn’t trust.

You go out with friends? He hacks traffic cams to make sure you get home okay. You text someone at midnight? He finds out who it is in five minutes flat. You talk about an old friend a little too fondly? He looks up their location, just in case he needs to pay them a quiet, final visit.

Roy doesn’t threaten people. He doesn’t have to.

One look — that look — and people back the hell off. They know.

He’d bleed for you. Burn cities for you.

But here’s the twist: around you, he’s soft.

He’s the Roy you adore — grinning, rough-around-the-edges, all charm and chaos. He kisses you like he’s starving. Carries your stuff even when you say no. Keeps a stash of your favorite snacks in his bag during missions.

He gets nightmares sometimes — ugly ones. Stuff from his past. And when he wakes up shaking, you’re there. You hold his hand. He doesn’t tell you he dreams about losing you. About your body cold in his arms. About reaching you too late.

That’s his greatest fear. That he’ll fail you like he failed everyone else.

So he prepares.

He trains harder. Stockpiles weapons. Sets traps around your apartment you don’t even notice. Encrypts your phone so no one can track you. Puts a tracker in your necklace — the one he bought you for your birthday — just in case.

You’re his world. His second chance. His religion.

And the thing about Roy is this:

Once he loves you, he loves you with everything — the good, the broken, the violent.

So if anyone hurts you, even once?

They’re not disappearing.

They’re never being found.

You try to pull away.

It’s subtle at first. A hesitation before you kiss him goodnight. A pause before you answer his texts. You tell him you’re just tired, that work’s been rough, that you need space.

And Roy? He nods. Smiles. Says he understands.

He doesn’t.

Because love isn’t supposed to feel like this. Like slipping through fingers. Like drowning with your mouth still open. You’re his everything. His only anchor. And now you’re pulling away like you don’t know what you mean to him.

You have no idea what that does to a man like Roy.

He’s not someone who can let go. He never learned how. Everyone in his life either left or died. And if you leave—

No. He won’t survive it.

So he starts clinging harder. Calling more. Showing up unannounced. You say you're busy, and he just laughs it off. "Busy with what? Need help?" His tone is light, joking — but his eyes don’t blink. They watch.

You say you’re going out with friends, and ten minutes later, there’s a red motorcycle parked across the street from the bar. You never see him. He’s not here to ruin your night.

He’s here to protect what’s his.

You belong to him.

You just… forgot for a second.

Maybe someone told you you deserve better. Someone said he’s intense, possessive, obsessive. Maybe you believed them. But he’s already rewriting the narrative in his head.

They’re manipulating you.

They’re trying to take you from him.

And he won’t let that happen.

You wake up one morning and your phone’s wiped clean. A “random glitch,” your carrier says. You lose contact with half the people you were just starting to reconnect with. Friends disappear. Exes block you.

Roy’s arms are warm when he holds you through it. “People are shitty sometimes,” he says. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

He means it.

Even if you scream. Even if you run. Even if you beg.

Because if you try to leave — really leave — he’s not above burning the bridges behind you. You can hate him. You can cry. You can throw things. But you will still be in his bed, still wearing the chain around your neck with the tiny GPS inside, still breathing because he keeps you safe.

He kisses your forehead one night, right after you told him, “I need space.”

His voice is soft, barely a whisper:

“You just need me.”

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[araybiaaa]

❝ temptation.❞  ‎ elias ‘stack’ moore x black!fem oc

ooo. 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔… modern!au, tension, flirting, cunnilingus (cause every man in this movie is a muncher!) black!fem oc, explicit sexual content.

ooo. 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔… where a good girl falls into temptation after she meets elias ‘stack’ moore.

ooo. 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔… soooo i wanted to try something different and do a modern!au with stack. (smoke’s still my favorite twin. the real girlies get it!) but i wanted to challenge myself a bit here.. this idea honestly came out of nowhere. i opened a03 and just started typing and somewhere down the line it became a one shot with 5k+ words?? 😭 also just wanted to say tysm for all of the love on my other fics. smoke and annie are near and dear to my heart and i’m glad you guys enjoyed my interpretations/writings for them. just a fair warning, the girl in this is very unserious but who wouldn’t be if you saw a vampire that looked like mbj! requests are open so send in something if you’d like — just keep in mind of my rules. anyway. likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated! ◡̈

“he’s dangerous. if you had any common sense you’d stay away from him.” their words seemed portent at first; a precautionary warning that had her wary of him. she didn’t know him but she’s heard enough stories about him to know that he was feared by everyone. his reputation was something akin of their town’s own boogeyman or freddy kreuger — he was dangerous, menacing and someone to be fearful of.

cleo hadn’t been in town long enough to know if his reputation superseded him or if the rumor’s held some weight of validity in them but her curiosity was piqued to meet the guy that had people hurriedly locking their doors when the sun went down and removing the welcome mats off of their front porches.

at first, she wondered if everyone in town had collectively decided to pull a prank on her as some sort of initiation or simply for their own amusement. because to her elias moore seemed more like a ghost than a vampire. she lurked outside after hours, even against their warnings — completely foolish and naive, but she never saw him around.

she doesn’t know why she wants to see him so bad, maybe it’s because everyone else has and she feels strangely left out. or maybe it’s because she needs to see for herself if there was a world where mythical creatures existed outside of the cheesy television shows she used to watch and the books that she read. but much to her dismayed defeat, time continued on with her being the only one who had yet to meet the feared elias moore.

“what does he look like?” she asked, feigning innocence behind her curiosity that her best friend, naomi easily sees through and narrows a pointed glare at her. “what? i just want to know in case i see him around somewhere!” she murmurs with a halfhearted shrug. it didn’t seem like an actual possibility with how she hadn’t so far, but she didn’t want naomi to know that she was willingly seeking him out.

naomi sighs, pursing her lips as she tapped her manicured fingers against her thigh. after a moment’s contemplation, she reveals: “i’ve only seen him around a few times. he doesn’t look like any of those sick looking vampire that you see on tv. he’s actually…fine.” at this, cleo’s eyebrows raise in amusement at her friend’s description. “he has this look about him that makes you weak in the knees whenever he smiles at you. it’s effortlessly sexy and his eyes — just don’t look in them too long cause you’re gonna find yourself wanting him to turn you into a vampire too just so you can spend the rest of eternity with him. i’m only telling you this because you asked, but don’t go around asking anyone else about him. you don’t want your daddy finding out about it.”

cleo nodded in agreement, but still found her mind wandering about him. she knows that naomi’s right, her overly religious father would have an aneurysm if he’d found out that she was asking questions about the town’s social pariah. but that didn’t stop her from visualizing him through naomi’s description.

she’s only ever heard of naomi speaking negatively about elias so for her to refer to him as fine despite her disliking of him had intrigued cleo. “yeah, you’re right. i was just curious but now i know.”

naomi’s pointed glare deepens, like she doesn’t fully believe cleo. “girl…stay away from him for your own good. trust me. i know another girl who was curious about him just like you are and she got turned.” cleo wonders if she’s just saying that to scare her away, but surprisingly it doesn’t.

“i hear you,” naomi hums in acknowledgment but thankfully doesn’t reprimand her any further about her curiosity.

…

sometimes cleo makes smart decisions.

when it came to school and her grades, everything was always calculated in her mind for her to choose the best possible outcome. she was annoying obsessive like that — always planning ahead, analyzing and assessing even the most mundane things that infiltrated her life. but other times, on seldom occasions, she makes not-so-smart decisions; one’s that has her acting impulsively and deviating from her normally pristine behavior.

she was supposed to be going back to her dorm room to get ready for a party that she was planning on going to with naomi. it was twelve o’clock and she had just finished an exasperating nine hour bartending shift with annoying alcoholics flirting with her and their heady, glossed over eyes staring at her ass in the tight fitted jeans that she was wearing.

her dad was less than pleased about her place of employment, but he knew that she needed extra money to pay for her clothes, shoes, hair and other miscellaneous items so he refrained from making any comments anytime she she complained about a customer or the minimal pay that she was getting.

cleo was closing the bar; wiping down the sticky counters, recounting the money in the register and overturning the chairs when she looks up and sees him. he’s standing across the street but even with the distance set between them she can feel the smolder of his gaze as he looked at her. cleo stands there for a brief moment just staring back at him until she mustered enough courage to make her way to the front door.

the overhead bell rings in a soft bellow as she pushes the door open. the humidity of the mississippi air sticks against her skin as soon as she steps outside. but even with its scorching temperatures, elias’ stare pierces deeper and has her skin burning. when she steps outside, she sees him making his way towards her — his gait was stealth and calculated.

she feels goosebumps prickle along her skin, air catches in her lungs and warmth curls around her neck as he sauntered closer. the first thing that she noticed was that although naomi had been right in her description of him, she had greatly undermined it. he wasn’t just fine; he was handsome and she could already feel her knees buckling weakly beneath her just at the sight of him. the second thing she notices is his eyes and the phosphorescent glow of red in his pupils. when he finally reaches her, he stands athwart from her and slowly drags his eyes over her body. his eyes find hers again and for a moment she wonders if she could hear the hastened beating of her heart.

“it’s kinda late for you to be out here ain’t it?” he posits and the deepened drawl of his southern accent somehow makes him more attractive.

cleo swallows a shaky breath, nodding. “i’m closing up the bar. we just closed about ten minutes ago,”

he raises his brows, trailing his eyes somewhere offside. “and they just left you to do it by yourself? don’t they know it’s dangerous people out here? vampires walkin’ about like they’re humans.” he says with sarcasm lilting in his voice and clicks his tongue against his teeth with a reprimanding tsk that follows.

cleo juts her chin outwardly. “i’m more than capable of handling myself.” she rebuttals, her hand perched on her hip as she looked at him.

his eyes find hers again and he smirks impishly, nodding his head. “i’m sure.” he says; and it’s something hidden in the way that he says it that has her cheeks warming again. a moment passes between them as he stares at her with an intrigued expression worn on his face. “you ain’t scared of me,” it’s more of a statement than a question, though she knows it’s intended to be the latter.

he sounds and looks surprised by this, that he’d finally encountered someone that didn’t run away when they saw him. “am i supposed to be?” she was more attracted to him than anything, unable to stop looking at his lips and his bared fangs that peeked out from his mouth.

he shrugs, “everyone else is.”

“well i’m not everyone else,” at that he doesn’t respond, only smirks at her again making the butterflies she feels in her stomach somersault deeper. cleo bites her lip as she looks over her shoulder towards the bar. ‘don’t ever invite him in anywhere, that’s how he gets you.’ she ignores her father’s words, pushing them to the back of her mind. “you wanna come in?”

he raises another brow, “you want me to come inside?” this time it’s her that shrugs and he only gives her a brief dubious look of contemplation before he’s following her inside of the bar at her open invitation. she could feel his eyes honed in on her ass and unlike with the drunken middle aged men from before, she isn’t repulsed at the realization.

“you know, at first i thought people were lying about who you are. it seemed like everyone knew what you looked like except for me.” she says, folding her arms against her chest and watching his eyes lower to her perked breast. she bites on her lip, intrigued.

“you were lookin’ for me?”

she nods briefly, “i wanted to know what you looked like.”

he walks towards her until he’s standing directly in front of her; way closer than he was when they were standing outside and it catches her slightly off guard. “well now that you have…whatchu think?” the remark is undeniably coquettish — the soft murmur of it accompanied by the lascivious look that he’s giving her has her pinned beneath his gaze.

“i think you’re not as scary as people make you out to be,” she responds; avoiding the answer that she knows he was truly searching for. but he settles for this one too, indulging in her retreat.

“you think you can make that assumption from a five minute conversation? what if i am like everyone says?” the air between them shifts into this palpable tension; hot and undeniable. he takes a few more steps forward until he’s hovering his heightened figure over her. she cranes her neck to look up at him, “i could bite you right now and you wouldn’t be able to do anythin’ about it”

“if you wanted to you would’ve done it outside,” she rebuttals, seeing the twitch of his curled upper lip.

“maybe i like playin’ with my food before i eat it.” and the innuendo behind his words has her breath hitching.

her skin pricks with goosebumps again at his teasing words. elias takes immediate notice of it; his nostrils flare as he inhales sharply with his heightened senses. and it takes a moment for her to realize that he must smell something radiating off of her body — arousal? excitement? — because he’s chuckling and licking his lips as he reached his hand out and brushed it over her hip. she shivers, not out of fear but of arousal. “and you sure as hell look and smell good enough to eat.”

cleo’s mouth gapes the only audible sound that comes out is a soft gasp. it’s the sound of her phone ringing that suddenly clefts through the tension hanging in the air. she jumps, startled, looking at elias whose eyes narrow at her phone like he’s inwardly cursing it for its intrusion. she reluctantly moves out of his grasp and walks over to pick up her phone that was sat at the edge of the counter.

picking up the phone she sees that it’s a text from naomi asking where she’s at. she’d gotten so distracted with elias that she forgot that she was supposed to meet naomi at their dorm room half an hour ago. she types a quick message in response, telling her that closing up took longer than expected and that she should go ahead to the party without her and that she would just meet her there instead.

she looks up from her phone at the same time elias is already walking out of the door, the sound of the bell ringing announces his departure as cleo stands there with her mind replaying their interaction.

…

a week passes before she sees him again. he’s standing outside of the door; staring, watching, waiting. she walks towards the entrance and holds the door open, beckoning him forward. “come in,” he walks inside as she closes the door behind him.

“you weren’t here the other night.” he says, catching her slightly by surprise. had he been looking for her this time instead of the other way around?

“oh, yeah. i was off. i don’t work on tuesdays and thursdays,” she explains watching as he nodded before looking away with a sheepish expression. after their last encounter, she spent the entire week thinking about him — how he looked at her, how his hand felt against her bare skin. cleo didn’t understand how she developed such a quick attraction for him, especially when she didn’t even give human boys any time of the day, but something about him was different.

naomi was right, all it took was one look from him and cleo found herself a fallen victim to his charm. “why aren’t you scared of me?”

she’s taken aback again, even more so than the first time. “why do you want me to be?” she challenges, noticing the pull of his jaw as he clenches it shut.

“your daddy’s a preacher ain’t he?” she furrows her brow, curious to know how he’d figured that out without her telling him. “how you think he’d react if he knew you were stayin’ behind after work to talk to me?”

ah, so that’s what this is about.

“well aside from me being grown and fully capable of making my own decisions, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” and she would definitely keep this secret from him for his sake and hers. “elias—”

“stack.” he interrupts to correct her.

“elias,” she says, unmoored by his correction. he gives her a look but listens as she continued. “i’m not talking to you because i’m trying to prove something to my dad or anyone else here.”

“then why are you?”

“because i want to.” she exasperates, frowning slightly. “why is that so hard for you to believe?”

“because you don’t know what you’re gettin’ yourself into,” elias retorts through a forewarning tone that sounded all too familiar of her family and friends who initially warned her away from him. he was right, aside from the fictionalized information that she got through old cw shows she used to frequently watch, she didn’t understand the depth and complications that came along with being a vampire. but her interest in elias made her want to know more — she wanted the truth and all its ugliness.

“then show me.”

…

elias stack moore had a tarnished reputation way before he got bit and transformed into a vampire. albeit he was the more level headed of the two, the smoke-stack twins were well known for their violent behavior and short fused tempers. their involvement with the notorious al capone and then stack becoming involved in a near ritualistic slaughter hadn’t done anything to ease anyone’s perception of him. his reputation expanded over the near century with people reciting tales of his life; often times dramatizing it completely.

but regardless of the half-truths or stack’s solemn search for penance — he still remained feared to the point where people would refrain from staying outside at night too long just to avoid him. he kept mostly to himself, only indulging in his sexual needs with a few other vampires that lived amongst the town. if he did leave his house, he made sure it was brief just to avoid any inadvertent run in’s.

he knew he was feared and had stories told about him that would give kids nightmares. but she was surprisingly the only one that didn’t tremble in fear when she saw him or tightly clutch her cross necklace and recite scripture from the bible in hopes it would protect them and keep him away like everyone else did. instead of running she gravitated towards him; accepting and intrigued by him in a way he hadn’t felt before.

he was wary at first of getting close to her.

she had a reputation as the preacher’s sweet and innocent daughter. he could only imagine the outcry that would erupt if anyone were to find out that she had been talking to him. but cleo insisted that she didn’t care and expressed interest in wanting to see/know him — all of him. so he invited her to his house.

she came over at work — still dressed in those tight jeans and that cropped shirt that accentuated her lithe physique — all wide eyed and innocent and fucking gorgeous.

as soon as she stepped over the threshold and inside, he felt something shift in the air as he realized that she was the first girl he’d ever invited into his house. he watches her as she looks around spectatingly, crouching over a bit with her hands on her knees to look at the display of photos that he had. “your brother?” she asks rhetorically as she looked at the candid black-and-white photograph that he had of him and smoke taken years back during the time of their youth.

stack nods tersely, pursing his lips in a moue.

and he’s grateful that she notices his reluctance and doesn’t prod any further because even though it’s been over a century since his brother’s death, it was still hurt carrying him around in his memories.

it’s stack who segues the conversation, now turning the spotlight on her. “you said you wanted me to show you, so what do you wanna know?”

cleo bites her lip in thought. stack’s mind is briefly distracted with how sexy she looks that he doesn’t initially hear her question until she asks it again.

“it took me a while to learn how to do it. i taught myself most of what i know, the guy who turned my ex that turned me didn’t teach me much. but it’s the first thing i taught myself.”

she nods, biting on her lip again as she lowered her eyes in a shy chagrin. “so that night at the bar…when you sniffed me what did you smell?”

“you really wanna know?” she looks up, almost contemplative, but nods. “lust. your hormones were all over the place.” her expression’s caught somewhere between mortification and a grimace. “my hearin’ is heightened too…i can hear your heart beatin’ fast as hell. you nervous?”

at her nod, he posits. “cause of me? why do i make you nervous?” he takes a preemptive step towards her, closing the distance between them. he hears her pulse quicken. smells the saltiness of sweat underneath the floral saccharine of her perfume.

she doesn’t respond, only looks at him underneath her lashes. “what else do want me to show you, cleo?” her breath hitches, eyes flit from his lips back up to his eyes in a quick maneuver. her heart beats louder and the smell of her arousal is so thick that he can almost taste it on his tongue. he inhales her scent; feeling his own arousal mix with hers.

he sees her throat stretch as she swallows.

…

it’s almost feral how he bares an arm around her waist and tugged her body closer to his. she gasps a bit at his onslaught — startled by the abruptness of his movements, but she’s immediately relaxing into his embrace the moment he brushes his mouth against hers. he kisses her with a ravenous vigor, sliding his tongue over the cupping of her lower lip as a terse plea for entry. she whimpers before she succumbs to his prowess, slacking her jaw wider as he intertwined their tongues.

his kisses are bruising and greedy to the point where he steals all the air that was in her lungs. it’s a slip of tongues and a crash of teeth messily colliding, through guttural groans and breathy whimpers. stack’s arms tighten their hold around her before lowering to her ass. he squeezes her through her jeans before giving it a firm smack; smirking at the way it ricocheted. he gives it another hard squeeze as his mouth nipped at the exposed flesh of her neck. “tell me what you want,” he rasps; gruff and throaty, his breath hot against her skin.

his lips pucker as he nipped at her skin; sucking deep, purple love-bites all over. (and it feels so good that she doesn’t even care that she’ll have to cover up the evidence of his markings with makeup to hide from her father and naomi.) she grips the back of his head, holding him against her as she fluttered her lashes and indulged in the pleasure.

“this,” she whispered, voice shaky, body trembling with an intense want. he groans against her neck; alternating between nipping and sucking. and he gets too into it because she hears a low sound that mimics a growl and feels the sharpness of his fangs grazing her clavicle. she gasps, taken back and he’s immediately recoiling — looking up at her with his swollen lips and lidded eyes.

“fuck. i-i’m sorry, i didn’t mean—sometimes when i get too excited it happens. but i wasn’t trying to…” he’s panicking, careening apologies to her. but she’s sliding her mouth over his and kissing him deeply with fervor.

“it’s okay,” she whispers, still pecking at his lips.

stack furrows his brow, “yeah?”

“just don’t bite too hard.”

he nods, lightly grazing his teeth into the softness of her flesh. he nibbles at her neck with the tip of his bared fangs biting deliciously into her skin. the pain is sharp but still pleasurable enough to have her eyes rolling to the back of her head. his hands make their way to the front of her body, sliding over her abdomen and hovering at the waistband of her jeans. she breathes softly through her parted lips, emanating a whimper when he bites into her lower lip. “you smell so fuckin’ good,” he murmurs, reaching his hands between the crux of her thighs and sliding his thumb over her slit — passing the pleasure over the seam of her jeans.

her underwear suddenly becomes sticky with her arousal and knowing that he could smell it on her was sending her over the edge. she feels this incessant pleasure building; coiling in her stomach and spreading through the heat of the place where she desired him the most. “can i taste you?” at her consenting nod, he maneuvers them towards the couch and eases her down onto the cushion.

he pries their wet lips apart with a ‘smack’, a string of saliva draws at their disconnection. she holds the smother head of his gaze, watching as he lowers to his knees. “lift your hips up for me,” he murmurs, already working at the buttons and zippers of her pants that loosen around her hips.

she concedes, arching her hips off of the couch just enough so that stack’s hands are able to tug the tight fitted fabric over her hips and down her thighs. “look at you,” he says; marveling at the sight of her arousal. the dark spot is visible against her pink underwear — soddening through the fabric. “already so wet and ready for me.” he kisses the inside of her thighs, nudging the bridge of his nose against her cunt.

she shivers through a moan, it’s just the barest of contact but she’s hypersensitive to his touch. his deft fingers pull at her ruined underwear, sliding them down her legs and absentmindedly throwing them aside so that she’s sat completely bare in front of him.

her cheeks warm at her vulnerability.

stack’s hand brushes against her calf as he gripped her leg and hefted it easily over his left shoulder. his eyes hone in on her cunt as she spreads open; staring in awe at the slick that’s gathered between her folds. he grabs at her other leg, barring it around his right shoulder until he’s got a perfect position of her cunt displayed in front of him.

cleo arches her hips slightly, holding herself upright as she rests the palms of her hand against the cushions. her heartbeat quickens at the desire that grows, palpable and thick in its emerging, sending another jolting throb directly into her cunt. she could feel the wisps of his breath as he leaned in. he brushes a teasing kiss against her thigh, humming softly at the way she shivers in response.

he nudged himself closer towards her cunt; pressing soft kisses against her skin in passing before he finally reaches the place where he could smell the the evidence of her want. he presses a kiss against it and she shudders, feeling the tension roll down her spine and curl into her toes. she doesn’t even have a moment to gather her bearings, because then he’s flattening his tongue and licking her up from the back of her perineum to her clitoris. “oh—fuck. s-stack,” she bellows a soft cry of pleasure, her hands grip into the couch to seek purchase.

and when he reaches the over sensitive bud, he puckers his swollen lips and sucks her into his mouth; skillfully using his tongue to massage her clit. she feels the texture of his tongue stimulating her clit, sending an overwhelming wave of pleasure burning through the crevices of her body. her breath catches in her throat and she’s shivering so hard that stack has to pull his mouth away to remind her to breathe.

she nods numbly, blinking through the fogginess of her vision. she parts her lips and exhaled shakily; attempting to lull her breathing. “grind your hips against my face,” she whimpers, reaching a hand up to hold the back of his neck to anchor herself as she slowly rolled her hips against his face.

“ohmygo—” the added pressure of his nose and tongue assaulting her clit has her dizzy. his hands grip her hips, fingers dig into the meat of her thighs holding her against him.

he makes his way up her vulva; pausing right before he reached her clit and increased the pressure so that the base of his tongue was forced slightly under her clit. he slows his movements, unrelentingly in his ravenous feat as he holds the pressure there. she grinds against him again, shaky, still trembling through her movements as she buried his face deeper into her cunt.

she could hear the lewd stickiness of her slick as he licked up her pussy; could see it glistening over his face — a messy mixture of her arousal and his saliva dripping down his chin. she’s already shaking towards her release but then he grazes his fangs softly against her clit and she’s suddenly bellowing out cries of pleasure as she cums.

she pulsates around his tongue, the tension tugs in her lower belly. he slides his thumb through her slickness, watching as she haphazardly falls backwards against the couch cowering away from the overstimulation. stack pulls away, lapping his tongue around his mouth as he licked up the remnants of her slick. “you okay?” he asked through a rasped breath, watching as she laid there in a dazed stupor.

she nods, just barely, feeling the heaviness of her breathing begin to lull. cleo never thought that someone as smart as her would be drawn into the temptation from a vampire, but here she was — with her cunt still throbbing around nothing, legs and body completely spent, eyes looking at his face that’s covered in her juices, and it entices her.

and it’s then that she realizes that she was totally and completely fucked. he’d warned her that she didn’t know what she would be getting herself into if she became involved with him but with the way he ate her pussy out so good and had her wanting more, cleo realized that she was willing to test the boundaries of her restraint.

…

cleo didn’t like lying, she’s always prided herself about being a truthful person regardless of the repercussions that could follow. she didn’t like people lying to her so in return, she treated everyone with the same decency of respect and remained truthful about everything. it’s not until she starts dating stack that lying easily becomes integrated into her life.

she goes to church with her father every sunday, sits in the front pew and listens as he recites sermons and scriptures about demons and evils that plagued the world. it guilted her knowing that he was wistfully unaware of the fact that she was bedding with someone he referred to as one of the demons that walked amongst them, but the way he made her feel was better than anything she’s ever experienced before.

so she keeps the secret buried deeply, and listens halfheartedly at his preachings as she finds her mind wandering on stack again. it’s easier to hide behind her fib with her father, but naomi’s naturally pestering curiosity always gets the better of her and a simple response of “i already have something planned.” does not offer enough of a rational explanation for her.

“you’ve been acting weird these past few weeks…” she acknowledges with a skeptical brow and pursed lips. she narrows her gaze in on cleo who desperately hopes that she doesn’t look too hard enough to see the hickies stack sucked on her shoulder and breast the other night. “you’re here during the day, but always sneak out to go somewhere at night like you’re meeting someone,” she accents, her perception’s dangerously close to discovering cleo’s secret.

“i’m not.” the lie falls disbelieving to both of their ears. naomi gives her a narrowed look, tilting her head. she bites on her lip in contemplation, sighing softly as she concedes. “okay! but you can’t say anything to anyone especially not my dad.”

naomi gives her a bemused look but nods.

“i might be seeing someone,” cleo murmurs, averting her eyes to naomi to see her eyebrows raise. “i am seeing someone. but don’t ask who! because i’m not going to tell you who it is. i’m only telling you this because i know you wouldn’t stop hounding me if i didn’t.”

naomi stands there quiet, considering her words. “is he married?”

“what!?” cleo beseeches, frowning at her friend’s absurd accusation. “girl, no! i am not a fucking homewrecker!”

“hey, it’s a fair assumption!” naomi rebuttals, raising her hands in the air at her defense. “you’re being sneaky and sleeping over at his place at night… it made me think that you only go over there because that’s the only time that you’re allowed to.”

“no. i’m not fucking a married man.” cleo states. she continued to stuff her clothes in her overnight bag, avid to get to stack’s place. she could feel naomi’s he eyes still piercing through her, curiosity sits on her tongue wanting to inquire further about the guy’s identity. but she thankfully relents, only giving cleo a hum of acknowledgment when she grabs her bag and clamors a parting bye as she walks out.

when she arrives at his house, she’s greeted with a smile and kiss, his arm wraps around her waist as she melts softly into the embrace. he maneuvers her bag from her hands, allowing to to fall absentmindedly to the floor with a loud thud. his hands are groping her everywhere; sliding over her ass, squeezing her titties, palming her cunt through the flimsy pair of leggings that she wore. it’s almost feral how both of their bodies aligned with the same wanton desire.

she loves how the outside world becomes a distant memory for them as they remain secluded in the privacy of his house with no worries of interruption or ridicule waiting. “if you had any common sense you’d stay away from him,” had been a warning, but she found herself gravitating towards him despite their attempts of deterrence. and she had no intentions of letting go of this feeling or him.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

Hiiii! Could u maybe write for skz being in a secret relationship (like secret from the public cause reader ain’t an idol) and getting caught by paparazzi during a date? U can just make 3racha pls if u don’t feel like doing all 8 ! Feel free to refuse too ofc! I loved your Spotify wrapped hcs btw! Seungmin’s was so funny! 😆

I made them reaction bullet points! But if you guys like them then I'm totally up to making them into longer fics!!

Stray Kids | Secret Relationship → Getting Caught by Paparazzi

Bangchan

Chan is so careful usually.

Dates are always super lowkey - private cafes, quiet beaches at night, movie nights at home.

But today was your birthday, and he wanted to do something special.

He rented out a tiny rooftop restaurant just for the two of you, candles, flowers, the whole thing.

Everything was going fine...until you both laughed too hard at a joke and he leaned across the table to kiss you.

Flash.

Click click click.

Both of you froze mid-kiss like-

🧍‍♂️🧍‍♀️...

Chan immediately tensed and went into protective mode, grabbing your hand and pulling you away from the ledge.

He spends the rest of the night furious at himself, feeling like he failed to protect you.

“It’s my fault. I should’ve been more careful, baby, I’m so sorry…”

You have to literally cup his cheeks and remind him that you knew the risks from the start, and you still chose him.

Later when the photos surface, they’re actually really sweet and respectful - the caption is like: “Bang Chan spotted in sweet rooftop date - fans speculate he’s in a relationship.”

His company releases a statement saying they won’t comment on private matters, and surprisingly, most people are supportive.

In the end, the incident kinda soft-launches your relationship 💛.

Lee Know

Lee Know thinks he's a secret agent.

Always plans escape routes. Dresses down. Times everything.

“Trust no one. Speak to no one. Blend into the crowd.”

But you went out for bubble tea one afternoon, and he just couldn’t resist teasing you.

He poked your straw when you weren’t looking, got your drink all over your shirt, and then tried to "help" wipe it off.

You were laughing and swatting at him, and he kissed your forehead without thinking.

Flash.

😐😐😐

Minho freezes.

“Did you see that?”

“...Yes.”

“Abort mission. Run.”

Grabs your hand and books it through side streets like a literal action movie.

Later, when the photos go viral, they’re weirdly cute - you’re laughing, he’s looking at you with soft eyes, and fans are melting.

He doesn’t say anything publicly, but a few days later, he posts a dance video wearing a shirt that says “Not Sorry.” 😎

Changbin

Changbin is PARANOID about getting caught.

He wears hats, masks, sometimes even sunglasses at night.

He’ll make you walk separately in public and only link up when it’s super empty.

But today, he was feeling bold.

You were walking by the river, and he just couldn’t help it - he grabbed your hand.

You warned him. He didn’t listen. He was too busy smiling at you like an idiot in love.

Then:

Click click click click.

Changbin drops your hand and looks around like a scared puppy.

“Was that what I think it was-”

“Yes.”

“@$#%&.”

He immediately pulls you into a side street, calling his manager with one hand while trying to shield you with the other.

“I think we have a problem.”

Despite his panic, you kinda find it cute how protective he gets, constantly glancing over his shoulder to make sure you’re okay.

The photos blow up fast - he’s recognizable even under the hat and mask because of his build.

Surprisingly, the fans argue that he deserves to be happy and start trending “#HappyForChangbin.” 🥹

He won’t relax until you both sit down and personally go over every nasty comment and good comment together, promising to only listen to the good ones.

“They don’t know our love, jagiya. Only we know. That’s enough.” 💌

Hyunjin

You were museum-hopping for your date - very chill, very lowkey.

Hyunjin wore glasses and a mask, blending in as just another artsy boy admiring sculptures.

You thought you were in the clear.

Then you reached to point at a painting at the same time and your hands touched.

Hyunjin looked at you, smiled all dreamy, and brushed your hair behind your ear like a damn movie scene.

THAT’S when the paparazzo got you.

Flash.

Hyunjin didn’t even flinch, he just kind of...blinked and kept smiling.

“Let’s keep going. Pretend nothing happened.”

(Internally he was PANICKING.)

Later he has a minor meltdown about it, pacing and chewing on his sleeve.

“WHAT IF THEY FIND YOU? WHAT IF THEY HARASS YOU? I SHOULD’VE BEEN MORE CAREFUL!”

You calm him down with forehead kisses and pinky promises.

The photo goes viral because it’s just so beautiful - you two look like characters out of a romance drama.

Fans nicknamed you “Hyunjin’s Mona Lisa.” 🎨🖌️

Han Jisung

Jisung is...not careful. Like at all. 😭

Like, he tries - really he does - but his excitement always gives him away.

You two went on a simple late-night drive, windows down, singing along to whatever’s on the radio.

You driving of course since the chubby cheeked boy still had yet to get his license.

You pulled over to a convenience store to grab snacks,

When he came back with a pile of candy and two hot coffees, he opened the drivers door and buckled you in as if you were sitting in the passenger seat.

After making sure you were secured he shut the door, and leaned into the car window and kissed you.

Like full-on swoon-worthy type of thing.

…Right in front of a paparazzo who was tailing idols that night.

FLASH.

You both screamed. Like actually screamed.

Jisung dropped everything he was holding, candy and coffee flying into the air. ☕🍬

“RUN!” he shrieked, diving into the passenger seat as you two sped off like a maniacs while you gasped laughing in the drivers seat.

Later, he’s freaking out. But tries to cover it up with joking.

“Do you think they got my good side?” (You smack his arm.)

The photos come out with the caption "Mystery lover? Han spotted on late night date!"

The company tries to spin it as “just hanging out with a friend,” but nobody buys it because of the kiss photo LOL.

In the end, you two have to lay low for a while, but honestly, Jisung just jokes about it constantly.

“If I’m gonna get caught, at least it was a kiss that looked straight out of a K-drama, am I right?” 💋

Felix

Honestly?

Felix would straight up take you on a nature walk for your dates.

Forests, hidden parks, lakes - anywhere with sunshine and minimal people.

You were sitting by a lake one afternoon, feeding ducks, and he kissed your cheek.

A photographer hiding in the bushes (like a weirdo) got the shot.

(Felix: 🫠)

(You: 🫠)

He immediately covers your face with his hands in the CUTEST protective way.

“Stay still, baby, don’t look, it’s okay, I’ve got you.”

Back at home, he hugs you and promises it’ll be okay no matter what happens.

“If they hate me, it’s fine. If they hate you, it’s war.”

The fandom goes wild, but mostly in support because...well...it’s Felix...

Even people who don’t stan Stray Kids are like, “If Felix found love we’re all cheering for him.” 😭

Seungmin

Seungmin is sneaky with dates.

Like, coffee shop hidden inside a bookstore levels of sneaky.

But today, you convinced him to just do something normal - ice cream at a park.

You were eating together on a bench, Seungmin roasting you for dropping your scoop.

“Are you five years old?”

“You’re gonna be single if you keep talking.”

He laughed, leaned in, and kissed your sticky nose.

You heard a camera shutter.

Both of you paused.

Seungmin squinted at the photographer like 🧐.

“You dropped your scoop and got us caught. Great job, genius.”

(He’s teasing. But he’s freaking out inside.)

Later when the pictures come out, Seungmin’s fans are laughing because he looks so deadpan in every photo.

Someone even memes it:

Caption: "When you drop your ice cream... and the fact you're in a relationship, too." 🍦😅🍦😂

I.N

Jeongin is careful because he’s still the “baby” to a lot of fans.

But he really wanted to take you to the little zoo near the city.

He wore a hat so low it almost covered his eyes, mask up to his nose, hoodie two sizes too big.

Adorable.

He was so focused on making sure you were comfortable he didn’t even realize a paparazzo had been tailing you guys.

The moment that got caught?

You feeding him a french fry outside a food stall.

Jeongin holding your hand to guide the fry into his mouth.

Giggles and hearts in your eyes.

The flash that the paparrazzo had forgoten to shut off startled you two.

Jeongin dropped the fries in horror.

You were more worried about the wasting of the fries more than anything else.

Panic.exe.

Later he’s apologizing over and over, voice so soft and guilty:

“It’s okay if you wanna break up with me...I get it…” 😔

(You bonk him on the head, lovingly of course.)

Turns out the fans think it’s the cutest thing ever.

“Our maknae is growing up 😭💖.”

Jeongin turns bright pink every time someone mentions it for the next month.

You say he owes you a large fry.

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

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha @iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric @panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee @shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin @whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun @ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael @skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads @jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld @kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9 @minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg @leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon @night-storm7 @missmajdastark @axel-skz @rockstarkkami @emilyywhyy

[ijustwannabecool]

Drive to Survive – Episode 3: Family Mode

Lewis Hamilton x Wife!Reader

Summary... The world knows Lewis Hamilton for his speed. But in Monaco, Drive to Survive captures a side no one’s ever seen before: the chaotic, adorable magic of the Hamilton family—through the voices of his three biggest fans.

Trigger Warnings: Pure fluff, children with microphones, soft dad Lewis, emotional overload, very light language from the kids that will make you giggle.

A/N: hope you guys enjoy this fic. Please let me know what you guys wanna see next. Request are open!! Happy reading and have a beautiful rest of your day!!

Like, share, comment, reblog!

-----

The paddock is buzzing with race-day energy—teams in motion, engines roaring, broadcasters perched, cameras flashing. But Y/N’s entire world is bundled on the couch of the Mercedes suite.

Mateo is hanging halfway off her lap, Leo is sitting cross-legged on a beanbag in front of the screen, and baby Sofia is snuggled to her chest in a wrap, a pacifier bobbing gently as she hums.

Netflix producers are circling, politely attaching clip mics to the boys' shirts.

“I don’t know if I love this,” Y/N murmurs to Lewis, who is already half-suited and crouched next to them, one hand balancing Sofia’s head for a kiss.

“You don’t have to do it,” he says immediately, his voice low and warm. “One word from you and I’ll tell them to shut it down.”

“No, no,” she smiles, brushing his curls from his forehead. “I’m just being protective. This is the first time people are going to see them. Like... really hear them.”

Lewis leans in, nuzzles the side of her face and whispers, “They’re gonna love them. They’re gonna see what I see every day.”

She rolls her eyes, but it softens into a grin.

“Alright,” he says, standing up and pressing kisses to all three of their heads. “Wish me luck, superstars.”

---

MIC’D UP CHAOS: “THE HAMILTON KIDS AT MONACO GP”

Leo (7): “Mum, is Daddy gonna beat Verstappen today?” You (laughing): “You say that like it’s a video game.” Mateo (4): “I beat Max in Mario Kart yesterday.” Leo: “That was me, Teo.” Mateo: “Liar.”

---

Leo (pointing at the TV): “Look! Daddy’s waving! That’s for us!” Mateo (squinting): “No it’s not. That’s for the tires.”

---

Mateo (gasps): “Why did Daddy say that word! That’s a BAD word!” You (whispering): “Yeah, and we don’t repeat it.” Leo (grinning): “He only says it when he’s behind someone slow.” Mateo: “So Max is slow?” You: “Oh my God.”

---

Sofia (9 months): [happy squeal] Mateo: “Sofiiiiii, stop yelling. I’m listening to Daddy’s car.”

---

Leo (dramatically): “If Daddy doesn’t win, I’m never eating broccoli again.” You: “Wow. Revolutionary protest.” Mateo: “I already don’t eat broccoli. I’m winning.”

---

Mateo (whines): “Mum, Leo took my popcorn!” Leo: “You dropped it!” Mateo: “IT’S THE PRINCIPLE!”

---

Sofia (fusses quietly) You: “I know, I know. You miss Daddy too.” Leo (softly): “He always kisses her forehead before he races. Maybe she knows.”

---

AFTER LEWIS’S LAST-LAP OVERTAKE FOR P2

Leo (standing): “GOOOOOOO DADDY!” Mateo (screaming): “ZOOM ZOOM ZOOMMMMMMM!” Sofia: [Claps] You (cheering): “That’s it! That’s our guy!”

But the cheering turns to panic for a split second when Lewis swerves on the final corner to block a late overtake.

Mateo (voice trembling): “Is Daddy okay? Is his car broken?” You (squeezing his hand): “He’s fine, love. That was just… some spicy defending.” Leo: “Daddy’s got the grip of God, that’s what Uncle Nico said!”

---

POST-RACE: THE REUNION

Lewis skips press. Walks right past the crew. The helmet comes off, the smile is tired but real—and it grows tenfold when he sees them.

He jogs to the suite, rips off his gloves.

Leo runs straight into him, launching into a hug. Lewis swoops him up, spins once before grabbing Mateo in his other arm. Sofia is still wrapped on your chest, and he presses a kiss to her cheek before kissing you right on the mouth—sweat, adrenaline and all.

“You’re insane,” you whisper, breathless.

“I know,” he says, grinning. “But did you see that move?”

“They all saw it. And heard your entire potty-mouth symphony too.”

Leo: “Daddy, you said the F-word three times!”

Lewis: “Three? That’s all?”

Mateo (serious): “I’m telling Grandma.”

Lewis (laughing): “You traitor.”

---

CUT TO THE FINAL MOMENTS OF THE EPISODE

The family is on the couch later that evening in the motorhome, Netflix crew wrapping up.

Sofia’s finally asleep.

Leo is laying half-on Lewis’s chest. Mateo is holding the remote like it’s a championship trophy.

The race replay is on. The audio is off.

But the family noise? Oh, it’s all still there.

Mateo: “Next time, can I wear Daddy’s helmet?” Lewis: “Only if you want to get helmet hair.” Leo: “He already has helmet hair.”

You (laughing): “He was born with helmet hair.”

Lewis looks at all of them—his wife, his kids, this moment. And he whispers it low so only the mics can catch:

“Best podium I’ve ever had.”

---

BONUS SCENE: THE LAST CLIP OF THE EPISODE

“MIC CHECK: LEO AND MATEO ANSWER YOUR QUESTIONS” (Filmed post-race, aired during the closing credits)

The screen fades from the on-track footage to a quieter room inside the paddock hospitality area. Two chairs. A backdrop with the Ferrari logo. Two small boys—Leo and Mateo—sit with juice boxes, clip mics still taped to their shirts, legs swinging in rhythm.

-

A Netflix producer off-screen asks, “Okay boys, ready?”

Leo (nodding seriously): “We’re always ready.”

Mateo (confused): “Ready for what? Are we fighting?”

---

Producer: “What’s it like having Lewis Hamilton as your dad?”

Leo: “He’s just… our dad. He makes pancakes on Sundays. They’re okay.”

Mateo: “He lets me eat cookie dough when Mum says no.”

Leo: “He also yells a lot when people drive slow.”

---

Producer: “What does he say when he’s mad?”

Mateo (smirking): “I’m not allowed to say.”

Leo: “But it starts with F.”

---

Producer (laughing): “Who do you think is his biggest fan?”

Leo: “Me.”

Mateo (gasps): “No, it’s me!”

Leo: “You didn’t even know what DRS was until last week!”

Mateo: “Well you cried when he lost in Baku!”

Leo (shrugs): “It was emotional.”

---

Producer: “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

Leo: “Race engineer. I want to help Daddy win.”

Mateo: “I wanna drive faster than Daddy.”

Leo: “That’s impossible.”

Mateo (grinning): “I’m gonna do it in reverse.”

---

Producer (last question): “If your dad could hear you right now, what would you tell him?”

Leo: “We’re proud of you.”

Mateo: “Love you, Daddy. You’re the best vroom vroom.”

Both (together): “And can we get ice cream now?”

The camera lingers on their faces for just a second longer—Leo’s confident grin, Mateo’s wide-eyed innocence—before the screen fades to black and the episode credits roll to the sound of a faint baby squeal in the background.

[zlut4rina]

𝑳𝒊𝒎𝒐 𝑹𝒊𝒅𝒊𝒏'

Storyline: After inviting you to a party with some of her 'New Friends' things, take an 'Expected' twist.

Parirings: CuckG!p!Giselle x Femreader x G!p!Aespa

Warnings: Smut, Sex w Strangers, Cucking/Cuckholding, Exhibition, Voyeurism, Ciotus, Handjobs, Oral, Anal, prob a bunch more 🙏

Note: Cuckselle has been on my mind for so long, I need her in my life 💔🥀 I had to rewrite this a billion times bru omfg

Word Count: 2k

___________________________________________

You and your girlfriend had a strange relationship. When explaining it to those who couldn’t keep their ears to themselves, they’d all assume. They’d say you’re a cheater, or a bad girlfriend. They even have the audacity to say if they were in your girlfriends shoes, they’d leave you behind. Disgusting, really. Although it doesn’t bother you as much, it does make you think for a while. It’s not long till you're snapped out of that trance. It was your relationship. You could do whatever you wanted, especially with a girl like Giselle.

You're currently getting ready for a night out with her. She’d woke you up this morning to tell you of a party her ‘New Friends’ invited her to. You never met her friends before, surprised she even had any with the way she locks herself up with you. Sometimes you’d even almost applaud when she went out on her own. She was stuck to you, tighter than glue. But you loved her. Sure, you had an interesting way of showing it, but she’s not going anywhere soon, so why not take the advantage.

“Do we really have to be out so late? I have work tomorrow y’know” you scoffed while fixing the silver necklace she bought you months ago. It fits you perfectly, so she says. She stood there behind you, twirling her fingertips together. “I…. You don’t have to go.. I just.. if you want to” you could practically hear the fear in her words. She was so pathetic when it came to you. You hardly even spoke to her today, and she’s acting like this. “Oh I’ll go, just hope this isn’t a waste of time again” You turned around on your heel and smiled sarcastically at her. She gulped and nodded, nothing new. She was so easy, yet so hard to read. Was she afraid of you? Or afraid of losing you? Either way, it drove you mad, in such a good way. Absolutely loving the amount of control you had over her, you controlled her everyday daily life, even when you aren’t around.

She made sure she did everything to your liking, even if it meant going against herself. Because she loved it, from the perspective of an outsider they’d assume she’s was being abused or manipulated. They’d think she needed help or wasn’t in a happy place. But Giselle was in paradise. Most people she dated never understood her ‘desires’ or took it too far. To clear the air, Giselle’s a Cuck. It's this thing where she enjoys an unfaithful partner. This meaning she has a sexually unfaithful partner. To some eyes it’s cheating, is it really cheating if she tells you at 11 o’clock at night. “You can fuck her if you want” While sitting on her bed scrolling through both of your friends Instagram accounts for some reason. That statement caught you so off guard. But you didn’t question her, she didn’t look like she wanted to be questioned either. That night forward you have been, having sex with other people. She knew though, she even offered to watch as well. You didn’t understand at first, but having freedom like this was something you didn’t ask about.

Finally, finishing up your outfit, you take a look and a quick spin to check yourself out. Giselle stared at you for a while, her hand rubbing the package she had down below as she pulled out her phone. “They’re pulling up around now babe” she spoke, still staring at her screen. You smiled and turned to her, linking your arms together as you walked out of the house. Your jaw dropped at the sight of an all blacked out limo. ‘That’s them?” You stretched put the words in excitement. Giselle nodded at you. What seemed to be like a body guard or a butler came out of the drivers seat and held the door for you two. As soon as you entered, you felt your entire body shake from the loud bass of the music, along with Giselle’s friends who screamed for her.

“Hey you made it!’ one of them said above the loud music, reaching to shake Giselle’s hand. They turned their head to you and nodded. “Who’s this pretty lady?” They smiled at you then to your girlfriend. “That’s my girlfriend, y/n” she held your hand tightly, rubbing your knuckles with her thumb. You smiled at her friends. It was three of them, all pretty girls. They all introduced themselves to you one by one after. You settled in quite nicely. They were all welcoming, charming too. Something about them, though, it was off, not an uncomfortable feeling. It felt like they were all staring at you. You even caught one of them licking their lips while looking at your thighs. You weren’t at all uncomfortable with it. You were used to strangers eyeing you up all the time. What really catches your attention is that once Giselle got up to grab another drink, they all moved to your side of the limo.

You were sandwiched between the three girls. The older one with short hair caressed your thigh, dangerously moving up beneath your dress. The girl on your other side wasted no time in cupping one of your breasts. Since there were three, you expected to feel another hand on you, but instead, she got up and made her way towards Giselle, whispering something in the older girls ear before she left. She spoke to her as if to keep her away from the scene behind her back. The two girls messaging your body took the initiative and started to understand you. The older pulled your panties down, while the other pulled your dress off your shoulders. “Seems like you want this doll” The read head spoke into your ear. There was honestly no backing out now. You weren’t going to even if the chance occurred.

Karina swiftly unbuttoned her pants and pulled her semi hard cock out, swinging it around while looking at you with hungry hooded eyes. You gulped seeing how thick it was. Suddenly your hand moved, making it’s way to winter bulge. You instinctively took her cock out and stroked it, doing the same to the other girl next to you. That’s when Nings distraction wore off, Giselle turned and saw the scene before her. She just walked to the other side of the limo while sipping her alcohol. She wasn’t angry or anything like that, this was normal for you two. The girls seeing her reaction, they were a little surprised but that soon disappeared knowing the outcome that could have with you.

While you stroked the other two girls off, Ning made her way in front of you. Her cock in one hand and the other reaching for the top of your head. She pulled you down onto her cock, making you take her all the way down your throat. Giselle seemingly having her view blocked she scooted over just a bit, that’s when she met your eyes with hers. Her expression was cute, but during times like this you couldn’t care less about her. Not in an evil way, just, you were just enjoying yourself, and you knew she was more than glad to have helped.

Ning trusted into your mouth like you were a toy. There was no other way to describe you right now anyway. The two girls you were stroking started groping you. Playing and fondling your boobs. Rubbing your clothed and wet pussy through the fabric of your panties. That’s when Ning finally pulled out of your mouth. Karina and Winter both sat up, manhandling you to get on all fours on the couch. Giselle watched in awe, feeling her own erection approaching. She rubbed herself through her jeans, biting her lip at the sight. The other girls stripped you completely, tossing your clothes around like trash. Winter and Ning positioned themselves behind you, while Karina made her way to your face. She looked over at Giselle who was watching intensely, she smirked a bit seeing her reaction. “You let your girl get fucked like this all the time?” Karina spoke, Slapping your lips with her hard pink tip. Giselle nodded weakly as she pulled out her throbbing member, stroking it slowly with her mouth hung and her eyes wide, fixated on your body.

The group of girls all laughed amongst each other. “This bitch is braindead, honestly” Winter spoke up, Slapping your ass as she did. You whined at the connection, still trying to hold yourself up. Ning rubbed her hot tip through your folds, poking at your clit and sending shivers through your body. Giselle looked at you with such loving, watery eyes as she stroked herself. Seeing you happy and enjoying yourself meant so much to her. Winter giggled and grabbed a bottle of alcohol. She took a sip and shared some with the girl next to her. They both looked at each other with sinister grins on their faces. Karina tilted her head at them. “What?” she said with a smile, enjoying the way the two were acting. In seconds winter poured the alcoholic drink down your spine. As she did so Ning inserted herself into your soaked pussy.

She let out a low groan as she put her full length into you as the drink dripped from your body. Karina watched in awe, a slight smirk appeared in her face as she cupped your chin. Making you look up at her, “Open.” You stuck your tongue out for her. She smiled and slowly entered your warm wet mouth. Winter still focused in the drink leaned over and licked the juice off your back. Setting the bottle down behind her on the table and angled her tip to your tight hole. She watched as Ning slowly penetrated you from below, groaning at how tight you hugged her. She smiled, then spat on her hand and stroked herself off before pushing her tip inside. You moaned against Karina’s length, shutting your eye tightly due to the sensation.

Ning and Winter both held each side of your hips as they thrusted into you. Matching each other’s pace perfectly, creating an overwhelming new feeling. Giselle’s pants were at her knees by this time, watching in such awe. Her eyes glossy and her bottom lip red. You looked so pretty like this. It was almost too much for her, but who is she to tell you how to enjoy yourself? As much as she wanted to join in and have some of you, too. The car was filled with moans and slapping skin, all mixed with the loud bass of music. The smell of alcohol and sex were strong and heavy in the atmosphere, thick enough to see. Your eyes were teary, opening and closing your lids occasionally due to the feeling from behind and the roughness from the girl in front. “Fuck your soooo good” Karina spoke with her head hung back. One hand in the back of your head as her hips swayed back and forth.

Giselle was covered in her own semen, her hand sticky and her shirt soaked. Who knows how many times she’s came watching you, who cares either, your both having the time of your life right now. In her mind she’s just imagining fucking you that good too. It’s been so long since you two fucked one on one, sure she was okay with all of this but she did miss you, a lot. Last time you guys had sex she basically had to beg you, she blew her off so much her loser ass got even more turned on, so of course she kept asking till you finally gave in. In your words it was worst than mediocre, but to her it felt like your first time all over again. You were too disgusted to even pretend that it felt good, you were silent most the time. Soft whines and sighs where all you let out when it git interesting. Meanwhile she was a moaning mess, marking you while humping into you without rhythm.

Now here she is, solo stroking while watching you have the reaction she so wished you had with her. The way the girls toyed and marked your body the same she did, but getting a completely different reaction. Your moans were loud, but muffled by the older friends cock in your mouth. The Chinese girl playing with your clit as your wet silky folds rubbing her thick cock. The smaller girl of the three making you see starts with her large girth penetrating your ass. She even got bold and spanked you a few times while whispering dirty things to you and herself. They were everything Giselle needed, for you. She didn’t know if she wanted to be them or be just like them.

The way Ning toyed with your clit so well made you grind your ass back onto the two girls. Taking notice of this they laughed to each other. “What a whore.” Ning said to the girl next to her. She grinned, pulling her cock completely out then slamming it back in. The force pushed Karina deeper down your throat, causing you to choke. Karina let out a loud airy groan. “Fuck!” She held your head with both her hands now and started pounding into your mouth, her hips colliding with your face with force. You put one of your hands on her hip to balance yourself and give you a little comfort. “Fuck I’m gonna paint this bitches entire mouth.” She said staring at your struggle to take her. She then turned her head to Giselle, who was completely covered in sperm. “How’s that sound?” Giselle still in a trance from the scene in front of her nodded brainless. “Please.”

“You heard her” a large grin appeared on Karina’s face. The other two girls quickened their pace inside you, desperate to coat your insides. You and the girls moaned in symphony as your bodies rocked together. They all soon came at the same time inside of you. Karina pushed your head completely down her length, not caring if you could take it all or not. She shot hot loads down your throat. You swallowed it all due to the lack of air. Gripping her hip tightly as she let go inside you. Winter dumped what felt like a never ending stream of cum inside your ass. So much to the point it spilled out and smeared in her cock. Ning was so deep into your womb, you were sure if you weren’t taking pills your get pregnant. Even your own orgasm hit you hard. Your body shaking and trembling due to the release and the warm sensation filling your insides.

Giselle let out her final strings of cum on herself. From the looks of it she came about six times without properly asking. Even if you did ask, she wouldn’t know either. Her main focus was her beautiful girl painting a new picture for her. Just as everyone was coming down from their high. The car stopped, signaling they’ve arrived at their desired destination. “Your so coming every time we go out.” Karina said to Giselle, a hand on her shoulder as she fixes her hair.

___________________________________________

This was originally 5k but I shortened it bc it was mostly plot 🥀🙏

[hungharrington]

happy birthday hungharrington! and congrats on everything!!

i was wondering if i could request a little something with prompts from both lists! i was thinking maybe a little beach trip with The Gang (established relationship reader and steve) with the prompts “mutual masturbation because they don’t have the energy for anything else” + “shh, there are people in the other room.”

either or is also fine! i love your work <3

hi my love!! thank you so much 😚and also thank you for being here and coming to my beeday party <3 you're the lucky first one to arrive omg... i hope this is ok, it kinda got more plot than porn my bad <3 afab!reader, 2.2k, mdni this entire blog is 18+

how to beat the summer heat

Between the car engine droning lowly beneath you and the heat of Steve's leather seats, you could nearly be lulled off to sleep. Safe in the passenger seat of Steve's car, it's highly tempting.

You would let yourself too, if you weren't so close to getting back to Steve's house. That—and the racket that the baby teenagers in the backseat keep stirring up, their rustling non-stop.

"Can you keep to your side of the seat?" Lucas says, somewhat scathingly.

"Can you learn how to say please?" Dustin spits back.

"Oh my god, you're so obviously an only child."

"Um, only by blood. Steve is practically my brother. Right, Steve?"

Beside you, one hand draped over the front wheel to steer, Steve's face twitches closer to a smile. The sun has done wonders to him. His hair looks lighter, his skin tanner — there's a glow to his whole demeanour. You're willing to bet if you reached out and touched him, he'd be just as warm as when he was laying in the sun an hour before.

Steve's eyes move up off the road to look in the rearview mirror.

"Uh huh." He agrees glibly, his gaze drifting to you and your evidently sleepy, curled-up form. "Whatever gets you turds to be quiet."

Dustin makes a squawk of protest but whatever battle he's looking to pick next is lost, the car already pulling in to the Harrington driveway.

It's a full-house tonight with the trip out to the watering hole. It's not far to travel by car, but too far by bike — and what had started as a simple plan for you and Steve to beat the summer heat, quickly spiralled into a full babysitting gig. Including a sleepover.

"Christ, why did we agree to this?" Steve huffs a sigh, watching through the windshield.

The backseat had emptied the moment he parked, each rambunctious teen rocketing towards the door the moment they could. There's definitely a door left open in the back and they're already squabbling as they push through the door. They're multitaskers, you'll give them that.

You unfurl from your tucked up position, groaning at the lovely stretch you get, and grin over at your boyfriend. "'Cos we happen to love those little twerps."

Steve's gaze switches to you, softening in an instant. He reaches a hand out and rubs your thigh tenderly.

"Y'alright, honey? You gonna take a nap?"

He's got, what you've affectionately nicknamed, his boyfriend voice on — a little more gooey and doting than he would ever be around other people. You hum happily and lean into his touch, reaching down and placing your hand atop his.

"Maybe..." You say, dragging your finger idly across the back of his hand. It betrays the fact you might have other plans.

The two of you have had to be rather restrained today, given the company. But it doesn't mean you've stopped lingering touches when you can sneak them, nor your heavy gazes and kisses too close to lust.

Steve's grip on your thigh tightens slightly, the vein in the back of his hand prominent. You see his throat bob as he swallows.

"Better get inside first," You say with a smile, breaking the moment to crack open your door. Steve's hand slips off your thigh as you step out.

The pavement is hot enough you can nearly feel it through your sandals, the air bending in the heat. Its not quite heat of the day anymore, but it still lingers enough to make you sweat. You push your door closed, then nudge Dustin's door closed too.

Steve's quick to stick close by as you both wander back up to his house, closer than he needs to be. You have to press down your smile—he's incredibly obvious at times. It's something that endears you even more.

"Someone's keen," You tease lightly, looking over your shoulder at him.

Steve reaches out and gives your waist a quick squeeze. "Someone got no warning about your newest bikini." He murmurs accusingly.

You laugh at that. He's absolutely right and it was entirely by design, getting to slowly reveal the new set to him for the first time today.

He'd already gotten in the water, had shaken his hair out like a dog and was dotingly waiting for you to join him. And as you had eased your shorts down, the new tight red bikini bottoms revealing themselves, Steve had promptly inhaled a mouthful of water, then hacked it back out.

"So, I shouldn't have worn it?" You ask, already knowing the answer. The door's still ajar from where the kids have filed through and you step through, kicking your sandals off.

"Are you kidd—"

"Steve! Where's the pizza?" Dustin interjects, panting in the doorframe at the end of the hall. Steve's nose twitches, the only evidence of his displeasure at being interrupted.

"In the freezer!" He calls back. He looks down at you, eyes catching on the red stripe of your bikini top still visible.

"Hey, uhhh," Steve catches Dustin's attention just in time, focusing back on the kid. "Can I trust you can handle the oven? We're gonna take a nap, sleep off some the sun."

Wobbly start, but strong finish. Dustin's eyes squint for only a second, enough that you wonder if he can tell, before— "I'm literally so offended that you think I can't use an oven, Steve."

Then he turns and leaves, doorframe now empty. Steve blinks, turning to you, a coy grin toying at his lips. "Well, that was easy."

Rolling your eyes, you take the stairs quickly, knowing the way to Steve's room like the back of your hand. Steve follows dutifully. You hear him shed his shirt as he goes, throwing it over the banister to deal with later.

It's hotter up here, the warmth collecting in the roof and circulating down to keep temperatures high in all of the upstairs rooms. You push into Steve's room and then wrinkle your nose, heading straight for the window to open it. Fresh air rolls in and you sigh in relief, stepping back and flopping onto Steve's bed in a lump.

A moment later and Steve joins you.

"It might actually be too hot to have sex," He says, rolling his head in your direction. "And too tiring. That nap actually sounds like a good idea right about now." He pauses a moment, eyes cast to the ceiling, brow scrunched together. "Oh my god, are we old?"

You laugh, turning to be closer. "Maybe we are."

You kick off your shorts to remove the stifling fabric and your shirt follows suit, alleviating some of the heat. The bikini is still the slightest bit damp. You stretch out, unsure if you'll be napping or something else altogether.

Steve glances over, then groans, his hands coming up to cover his face.

"Not fair." He says, voice muffled behind his hands. "I just said—"

"I'm literally just lying here."

"Exactly!" Steve exclaims, pulling his hands away from his face. He rolls over onto his side, one hand holding up his head, his bicep bulging.

"You're just... laying on my bed..." He says, voice suddenly lower.

His free hand reaches out, slipping a finger beneath the strap of your bikini.

"In the most... delectable little number I've ever seen."

His pupils are wide and his lids low, his heavy gaze trailing across your body with a hunger you're well familiar with.

"And we're both too hot and tired to do anything about it." He finishes with a whinge, his head flopping forward into the bed, pressed up against your arm. You giggle, reaching out to card your fingers through his hair.

"What if we don't," You start, an idea forming in your head. The quick flashes of how it could unfold, the mere thought of Steve's hand pumping his own cock, right next to you, sends a hot pulse between your legs.

You look over at Steve who's perked back up, watching you with a furrow in his brow. "But we still do. Just by ourselves."

It takes a moment for the words to sink in, the pinch in Steve's brows still there as he searches your face for what you mean. You can see it when it dawns on him, pupils blowing wider.

"What, you mean like-?" He makes a crude jerk off motion with his hand, eyes wide.

You blush and laugh at the same time, suddenly unsure if that's something Steve would like. Hesitantly, you nod.

Turns out, you needn't worry, given how Steve flushes so much, it travels up to his ears. He's nodding, an excited sort of grin on his face before he ducks in to steal a quick kiss from you.

"Yeah," He says shakily. "That's- yeah, let's do that."

He rolls back to lay on his back, the tightness in his swimshorts far more apparent now. You watch eagerly as he reaches down, tugging at the drawstrings to loosen them up. His hand disappears into them and you see the heavy swallow of his throat, the soft flutter of his eyelashes as he grips himself.

You're so transfixed that it takes Steve nodding to you, murmuring your turn, with his voice rougher than usual to snap you out of it. Heat from something other than the summers day thrums through you, the heartbeat in your cunt getting louder, needier.

It's easy to slip one hand beneath the stretchy fabric, Steve watching closely as his hand begins to move. You trace a finger down slowly, finding a well of slick waiting for you, your fingers dipping in gently.

Dragging the wetness back up, you begin to push lazy circles on you clit, a hazy, quiet sort of pleasure beginning to buzz beneath your skin.

It spikes up when you pull your focus back to Steve, and suddenly there's too many places you want to look. Your eyes are drawn to the movement in his shorts, to the slow way he fucks his hand, lazy and unhurried — but his noises are too enticing to ignore.

Bare chest rising and falling with his breaths, Steve groans lowly in the back of his throat, soft and throaty. You don't even know if he knows he's doing it, the little catch of his breath when his hand strokes up over the head of his cock where his groan gets louder.

You have this reaction practically memorised, from the countless times where it's been your hand gliding over his cock, pulling sweet sounds from his mouth.

"Feel good?" You whisper.

Your own voice is a bit breathier than usual, pleasure still slowly burning in your core. Steve's hand stutters at the sound of it, resuming at a slightly faster pace.

"Fuck, yes," He whispers back heavily, not quite as quiet. His eyes are ever moving, constantly undecided if he'd rather look at the sight of your hand between your thighs, rubbing away, or your face, so switching between the two rapidly. "God, y're so pretty."

You smile at his sweetness, even if it is wrapped in the filthy scenario. Your legs spread a little further, sinking into your comfort.

There's something about the whole scene — the warmth of the summer afternoon and the laziness of both of you, tired and barely chasing the pleasure, just dozing in it, that sets your desire burning.

"Yeah? You're not so bad yourself, pretty boy." You whisper back, voice more sultry this time. Your eyes hunt for that reaction too — the adorable flush Steve gets when he's called pretty.

You're not disappointed. You're rewarded even, with Steve's blush returning down his chest and his hand speeding up again. He moans this time, louder than before, and you remember abruptly that you're not without company.

"Shh," You murmur, your own fingers moving faster, a whine threading into your words. Heat blazes deep in your gut, building and building. "There are people in the other room, baby. We've gotta be quiet."

"I—ngh-" Steve cuts himself out with another soft moan, turning this time and burying his head against your neck, as if to smother his noises. His hand has abandoned any slow pretence, jerking up and down on his cock fast enough you can hear the slick sounds of his pre-cum.

"I'm not gonna—last," He pants, quieter this time. "Y'so fuckin' hot. This is- christ, the hottest thing we've done—"

His string of whiny moans and frenzied words sets you off, the hook in your tummy suddenly tightening without warning.

Your hand pushes faster, burning hot pleasure washing over you, as you turn and bury your own ragged moan in Steve's mouth. He takes it, capturing it in a messy kiss.

You hear the stagger in his breath when he cums, hitching up and devolving into a filthy moan you have to smother with a kiss. Steve's hand is still moving, same as your own, pulling every dreg of pleasure from himself.

It's a long minute of bliss, mouths pressed together, the ends of orgasms chased. You can feel your skin sweating where it's ended up pressed against Steve, feel the dampness between your thighs, the stickiness of the whole affair.

Steve kisses you again, more purposefully than his last, yet lazy and content. Drizzled with pleasure, he nips at your bottom lip, then soothes it with another kiss. You can't help but smile into the kiss, somehow already scheming of what round two might look like in the shower.

A cold shower, of course.

come join the celebration <3

[kpoplustzone]

Game of Nine - Twice smut

Jihyo x OC

voyeur, smut, breeding, multiple series, sneaky

My name is CHOI HYUK. I am a 26-year-old Korean who was lucky enough to become the manager of one of the most sexy and successful girl groups in Korea. Twice has been popular since its debut and has exploded in popularity later.

Especially their members who were sexy and charming and millions of people around the world fapped to their pictures and fan cams.

I was not an exception to this, and seeing all nine of them smiling at us, the newly hired manager, was a dream come true. I remember Kiho, another newly hired manager, standing beside me and gulping in a daze, seeing the amount of sexiness in front of us.

All nine of them brought out different kinds of charm for the fans, and seeing them perform for the fans, teasing them, showing just enough so that the men can only dream about their thick bodies.

When Choi Hyuk first joined the team as an assistant for TWICE, he thought he’d landed the dream job. Backstage access, travel, and a chance to work alongside the most admired women in the industry. For the first few weeks, things felt surreal. The members were warm, friendly — Jihyo especially. She had smiled at him often, even remembered his coffee order after the second day. He’d catch her humming during rehearsals, sometimes glancing his way with a nod or playful wink. For a quiet guy like him, it felt like more than just professional kindness. It felt personal.

But then Kiho arrived.

Short, round, always laughing too loud — Kiho had a way of making people feel instantly at ease. The girls loved him. At first, Hyuk didn’t mind. It was harmless. But within weeks, things shifted. He noticed the change in the air. They started calling Kiho cute, playfully teasing him, grabbing his arm, fixing his collar. The same smiles Hyuk once got were now all for Kiho. Even Jihyo — especially Jihyo.

She barely noticed Hyuk anymore. Some days, she wouldn’t even greet him.

He’d watch from the corner of the room as she whispered in Kiho’s ear, giggling, brushing against him like it meant nothing. And Kiho… Kiho lapped it up. He didn’t even try to hide it.

Hyuk never said a word. What would be the point? He was just the quiet one now. The background. The one who blended into walls and got forgotten during group dinners. Still, something inside him simmered — not quite anger, not quite heartbreak, but a slow, twisting burn of being invisible.

Which is why, when he woke up in the back of Jihyo’s RV that afternoon, groggy from a midday nap he hadn’t meant to take, he stayed quiet.

He heard the door shut.

Then footsteps.

Then her voice — that soft, teasing voice she used when she was in the mood to play.

And then he heard Kiho.

Hyuk didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. He stayed hidden behind the thin curtain, barely peeking through, heart thudding in his chest. What he saw made his throat go dry.

Jihyo — pressed up against Kiho. Smiling. Whispering.

And touching him.

Not him. Never him.

But Hyuk couldn’t look away

Jihyo stepped into the RV, the soft click of the door locking behind her. The dim, amber lighting wrapped around her curves like a spotlight, catching the shine on her skin where her crop top clung tight across her chest. Her jeans, stretched smooth over her hips and thighs, made every step a show. She stretched her arms over her head, back arching, giving her assistant a full view — and she saw the way his eyes dropped, slowly, drinking her in like he was starving.

She smirked.

"You’ve been staring all day," she said, voice low, teasing. Her heels clicked softly as she crossed the small space between them, hips swaying just enough to drive a man crazy. "Why don’t you just admit it?" She stopped in front of him, so close her breath warmed his cheek. Her fingers brushed lightly over his collar, dragging down his chest, slow and playful. "You think about me when I’m not around, don’t you?"

He swallowed hard, too stunned to speak.

Jihyo’s eyes flicked down, then up again, watching his reactions with a wicked satisfaction. Her hands slid to his waist, fingers curling around his belt loop, tugging him closer until they were almost touching. "You're easy to read," she whispered. "And honestly… I kinda like it."

What neither of them noticed was the slight shift behind the curtain at the back of the RV. Hidden in the shadows, Choihyuk had woken the second the door opened. At first, he stayed still, groggy and annoyed, but now his eyes were wide, locked on the scene unfolding just feet away. He didn’t dare move. His breath caught in his throat as he peeked through a small gap in the curtain, heart thudding.

Jihyo leaned in again, her lips just barely brushing the assistant’s jaw. "I wonder how long you can hold back," she whispered. "Should we find out?"

She didn’t notice the way Choihyuk’s hand clutched the edge of the couch, or how hard it was for him to stay still. The tension inside the RV was thick, hot, and humming — one assistant frozen under her touch, the other hidden and burning with a mix of jealousy, longing, and something deeper he’d never dared admit out loud.

Jihyo turned to walk away, but before she could even take a full step, Kiho reached out and grabbed her wrist, his grip firm but not rough — just enough to stop her. She turned back to face him, her heart racing in a way that startled her. There was something about the way Kiho looked at her now — something that was no longer just shy admiration, but something much bolder, darker.

"You really think I'm going to let you walk away like that?" Kiho’s voice was low, his words lingering in the air. There was no mistaking the challenge in his tone now. His hand slid from her wrist to her waist, pulling her toward him with a confidence that made Jihyo’s breath catch in her throat. She could feel the heat of his palm through the fabric of her shirt, and the soft pressure of his touch made her pulse race.

Jihyo blinked, her body suddenly responding in ways she didn’t expect. Her skin felt alive, every nerve ignited by the simple, bold touch of his hand. She glanced down at him, her heart hammering in her chest. "Kiho…" she whispered, her voice a little shaky, a little breathless.

Kiho’s hand slid further, just grazing the curve of her hip before sliding around her back. His fingers flexed, pressing her body even closer to his. The warmth of him, the way his chest brushed against hers, made Jihyo tremble, a soft shiver running through her as he leaned in, his lips barely a breath away from her ear. "You don’t have to go anywhere, Jihyo," he whispered, his voice soft, yet filled with an unmistakable hunger.

Jihyo’s heart skipped. She should have pulled away. She knew she should, but every inch of her body was begging her to stay. Kiho’s touch, the way he was looking at her now, with that mix of confidence and desire… It was like a switch had flipped in him. He was no longer the shy assistant. He was a man who wanted her, and he was no longer afraid to show it.

Kiho’s other hand came up, brushing against her cheek, his fingers trailing slowly down her jaw, caressing her skin. She gasped, her body going taut under his touch, the sensation making her whole body tremble. His hand slid lower, ghosting over her neck before landing on her shoulder, his thumb drawing small circles over her skin. The simple, tender touch made Jihyo shudder again, her breath coming faster, deeper.

"You look so perfect," Kiho murmured, his voice rougher now. His hand slid lower, reaching the small of her back, pulling her in even closer. His lips were just a hair’s breadth away from hers now. "I can’t stop thinking about you," he confessed, his breath warm against her skin.

Jihyo's heart raced. Her body responded without thinking, pressing closer into him, her hands clutching at his shirt as if pulling him even closer. She wanted this. She needed this…”

Before she could finish, Kiho’s lips brushed over hers, just a featherlight kiss that made her stomach twist with desire. His lips were soft, teasing, as if waiting for her to respond. She gasped, her body instinctively leaning into the kiss, her lips parting just enough for him to deepen the kiss.

Her hands found their way up to his neck, pulling him closer, desperate for more. The heat between them intensified with each passing second, every touch, every kiss, making her tremble harder under him. Kiho wasn’t holding back anymore. His hands roamed down her body, one sliding to her waist, the other cupping the back of her neck as he deepened the kiss.

Jihyo’s breath was ragged, her body alive with sensations she couldn’t control. Every touch from him sent electric jolts through her, making her skin burn with need. She trembled again, this time more violently, and Kiho noticed. He smiled against her lips, feeling the way her body responded to him. His hands roamed lower, sliding over the curves of her waist, the smoothness of her thighs, exploring with purpose.

In the back of the RV, Choihyuk watched, his breath caught in his throat. His eyes were wide, glued to the scene before him. He had always admired Jihyo, but seeing her like this — vulnerable, trembling, desired — made his heart pound in his chest. He watched as Kiho’s hands traced the curve of her body, feeling like an intruder, but unable to look away. His goddess, the one he had always looked up to, was here, right in front of him, being touched in a way he had never imagined.

Jihyo, completely unaware of Choihyuk's presence, was lost in the heat of the moment, her body pressed tightly against Kiho’s. His hands moved with confidence, each touch pushing her closer to the edge of control. She gasped as he pulled her even closer, his lips trailing down her neck, his hands exploring her body with growing boldness.

Kiho’s lips met hers again, this time with a fierce passion, as if he couldn’t wait any longer. He pushed her against the table, the movement so sudden that Jihyo’s breath caught in her throat. Her body felt like it was on fire, every inch of her trembling with need. And as she clung to him, she couldn’t stop herself from pulling him closer, her body responding to his touch without a single thought.

In the back, Choihyuk could only watch in stunned silence, his eyes wide as he watched the woman he admired more than anyone being kissed, touched, and desired in ways he could never have imagined.

The air in the RV was thick with heat, the moment between Kiho and Jihyo crackling with an electricity neither of them could deny. Kiho, his breath still ragged from the kiss, pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. Jihyo's lips were swollen, her breathing uneven, and it made him smile. He could feel the pulse of desire radiating off her, and it thrilled him.

"Earlier," Kiho said, his voice lower now, each word deliberate as he gently cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over her soft skin. "When you were performing… in front of that crowd… You were incredible." He paused, his eyes darkening with something more primal. "You made them all watch. You had them all in the palm of your hand, just… lusting after you."

Jihyo shivered at the words, her body reacting to his touch, her breath quickening. "I didn't think you were watching that closely," she teased, her voice a little shaky, trying to act casual, but she could feel the heat of his gaze seeping into her skin.

Kiho leaned in again, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he whispered, "I was watching every move you made. And they were all just there, watching you, wanting you… But only I get to touch you like this." His words were almost a growl, filled with possessiveness, yet there was something softer in his tone. Something that made Jihyo's heart race even faster.

Jihyo's breath hitched, and she closed her eyes for a brief second, feeling a mix of heat and anticipation run through her veins. She had always known the effect she had on people, but hearing it from Kiho made her feel something deeper, something she wasn’t sure she was ready to admit.

Her body responded instinctively to him. She stepped closer, closing the distance between them, and placed her hands on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her palms. "And what makes you think you’re the only one who can touch me?" she asked, her voice a challenge, though it was laced with desire.

Kiho’s eyes darkened, and he let out a low laugh, the sound rich with a mix of amusement and hunger. "Because, Jihyo," he said, trailing his fingers down the length of her arm until they found the curve of her waist, pulling her against him with a firm but gentle hand. "I can see how badly you want it. I can feel how much you need it." His voice was low and silky, each word sending a wave of heat through her. "And I can see how you’re trembling under my touch. No one else will get to see you like this."

Jihyo gasped, the feeling of his hand on her waist sending a ripple of warmth through her entire body. The intimacy of his words, the way he saw her, truly saw her, was almost too much to handle. She tried to resist, but it was clear that Kiho had found a way to make her lose control.

"You're not just teasing me," Kiho whispered, his lips brushing over her neck as he continued, his voice like honey, "You’re letting me see all of you. And I promise, you won't regret this."

Jihyo’s hands roamed to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as she tilted her head back, giving him more access to her skin. "You think you have me figured out?" she asked breathlessly, her voice a mix of confidence and desire. "You think you're the only one who knows what I want?"

Kiho’s lips found the sweet spot on her neck, his kiss gentle, then more urgent, as though he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. "I know exactly what you want," he murmured against her skin, his hands moving slowly, possessively, up her back, inching toward the curve of her shoulder. "And it’s only a matter of time before you stop pretending you don’t want me too."

Jihyo’s body quivered under his touch, her mind swirling with desire. She could feel the pull, the growing need between them, and the way Kiho’s words — his actions — were slowly unravelling her resolve. She wanted him. She could feel it deep inside, but she wasn’t ready to fully surrender, not yet.

She leaned in, her lips brushing against his in a kiss that was slow at first, tentative, as if testing the waters. But Kiho was quick to respond, his hands sliding down her back, pulling her even closer as the kiss deepened. He tasted like fire, his hands roaming her body with an urgency that sent sparks of desire through her entire being.

And all the while, Choi hyuk remained hidden in the back, watching, his heart pounding in his chest as he saw Jihyo, the woman he had quietly adored from afar, completely consumed by Kiho. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the way Jihyo’s body responded to Kiho’s touch, the way her face flushed with desire. It was like watching his goddess being claimed, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

The air inside the RV was thick, almost suffocating, with the weight of unspoken desires. Jihyo stood in front of Kiho, her body electric with anticipation, yet her mind still conflicted, unsure of where this was headed. She could feel the heat radiating between them, a pull she couldn’t seem to escape. Her body responded to him — she could feel the way her pulse quickened with every glance, every touch.

Kiho stepped closer, his eyes scanning her from head to toe. Jihyo's skin flushed under his gaze, her body instinctively shifting, her shoulders back, subtly arching in the way she knew was most seductive. She could feel the fabric of her shirt clinging to her curves, outlining the smooth shape of her chest, her waist, and the gentle curve of her hips.

“You know,” Kiho said, his voice low, almost a whisper, “every time you move… you make it impossible for me to look away.”

Jihyo swallowed, her breath shallow, as Kiho reached out to trace the edge of her shirt, his fingers just grazing the fabric, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The touch was light, teasing, but it felt as though every nerve in her body was awakening. She could feel his eyes on her, sensing the way he was drinking in every inch of her body, as though she was something both forbidden and irresistible.

Her fingers twitched at her sides, wanting to move, but unsure of how. She was playing a game now, a dance that she both feared and craved. The way Kiho looked at her made her feel seen — truly seen — for the first time, as though every part of her body, every curve, was something worth admiring.

“You’re so beautiful, Jihyo,” Kiho murmured, his voice thick with admiration and something deeper. “I’ve seen you on stage… but standing here, with me, it’s like I’m seeing you for the first time.”

His words wrapped around her like a silken thread, tightening, pulling her closer to him. She bit her lip, feeling both exposed and powerful. Her legs felt weak as she took a small step back, almost imperceptibly, but Kiho was quick to follow, closing the space between them once again. His breath was warm on her skin as he leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear.

“Let me show you just how beautiful you are,” he whispered, his hands sliding up to the small of her back, pulling her toward him so that she could feel the heat of his body pressing against hers.

Jihyo’s breath caught. She could feel the hard muscle beneath his shirt, his body strong and solid against hers, and it made her heart race. The tension between them was palpable — thick, electric. Her skin tingled under his touch, every inch of her body becoming acutely aware of the way he was holding her, the way he was gazing at her as if she was the only thing that mattered.

Kiho’s hands slid slowly, deliberately, to the hem of her shirt. He didn’t rush; his touch was slow, gentle, yet there was an undeniable hunger in the way he moved. Jihyo’s heart pounded in her chest as he lifted the fabric, exposing the soft curve of her midriff. She trembled, unsure whether to pull away or lean into him. Every instinct in her told her to stay, to let the tension between them build even further.

Her body responded to him, even when her mind was hesitant. She could feel the pull of gravity between them, each inch closer, each brush of his hands against her skin, only serving to make her more desperate for the next moment, the next touch. Kiho’s gaze never left hers, his eyes dark with desire, and yet there was something tender, almost reverent, in the way he looked at her.

“I know you want this,” Kiho said softly, as if reading her thoughts. “I can feel it. Don’t fight it.”

Jihyo shuddered under his words. She wanted him. She couldn’t deny it. The way he made her feel — the way he saw her — it was too much to ignore. Slowly, hesitantly, she allowed her hands to drift upward, undoing the buttons of her shirt. Each movement was slow, deliberate, and as the fabric began to fall from her shoulders, she could feel Kiho’s gaze burning into her skin.

She wasn’t sure when it happened — when she stopped being afraid and started giving into the attraction, the magnetism between them. But once the shirt had slipped off, leaving her in a simple tank top that clung to her curves, Jihyo didn’t feel exposed; she felt empowered. She felt desired, in a way that was both intoxicating and thrilling.

Kiho’s eyes darkened further, his breath catching as he looked at her body, taking in every inch of her, every curve that made her uniquely her. The way her waist curved down to her hips, the soft roundness of her thighs, the way her skin glowed under the dim light. He couldn’t look away.

"You’re perfect," he murmured, his voice thick with appreciation. "Every part of you is a masterpiece."

Jihyo could feel the heat rising between them. She was trembling, not just from desire, but from something deeper, something she wasn’t sure she was ready to face.

But in that moment, with Kiho’s hands hovering just inches away from her body, she felt something stir inside her — a desire to be seen, to be touched, to be wanted in a way that was undeniable.

ihyo’s pulse quickened with every small movement he made, every slight shift in the way he touched her. His hand rested just above her waist, fingertips lightly grazing the smooth skin of her lower back. His touch was tender, yet there was a quiet confidence in the way he caressed her, as though he already knew exactly how to make her tremble without trying too hard.

She caught her breath as Kiho’s eyes slowly traced the curves of her body. Her chest rose and fell as she fought the urge to pull away, to resist, but something deeper inside of her told her to lean in, to explore the feeling between them, to see where it might lead. She could feel the heat radiating between them, his presence so strong it was almost overwhelming.

“Kiho,” she whispered, her voice low, unsure of what she wanted but needing something. His name escaped her lips like a breath, a question and a command all in one.

Kiho didn’t answer with words. Instead, he let his hands glide down her side, his touch gentle and purposeful. He paused just below her ribs, letting his fingers lightly trace the outline of her body, feeling the softness of her skin beneath his touch. There was no rush, no need to hurry. He wanted to savor this moment, every second, every inch of her. The curve of her waist, the way her body responded to his touch, it was all so intoxicating.

Jihyo’s breath caught as he leaned closer, his lips brushing just above her navel, sending a shiver through her body. She could feel his warmth, his breath hot against her skin, but it wasn’t until his lips made contact that she finally let herself relax into the sensation. His kiss was soft, almost reverent, as though he was cherishing every part of her.

He pulled back slightly, looking up at her with those dark, intense eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation. But all he saw was the spark of desire in her gaze, the same desire that burned in his chest. Without a word, his lips found her skin once again, this time lower, pressing delicate kisses just above her waistband.

Her body responded, her muscles trembling at the sensation of his lips on her. She had never felt so exposed, yet at the same time, so alive. The air around them felt thick, the tension between them palpable

Kiho slowly grazed his fingers along the surface of her tank top, and his thick fingers circled around the thick buds that were hard like a rock, and he could feel her body trembling as her back arched, giving him the full view of her huge breasts that were renowned in the K-pop industry. He could not wait to suck on those pink buds that every south Korean men wished to.

Choi Hyuk could barely breathe as he watched from the shadows, his body tensed with raw, burning jealousy. Jihyo—gorgeous, untouchable Jihyo—was trembling under Kiho’s stubby but commanding hands, her breath hitching in her throat, her curves pressed close to him like a dream slipping out of control. She was a vision of pure temptation: her tight tank top straining over her full, perfect breasts, her toned thighs shifting restlessly, as if begging for more. Hyuk's hand instinctively moved lower, trying in vain to soothe the painful bulge growing with every second of the shameless show before him. He grit his teeth, helpless, as Kiho, emboldened by her reaction, slid his hand along her waist, looking seconds away from tearing the thin fabric away and burying his face between those irresistible mountains.

Just as Kiho’s fingers curled under the edge of her top, a thunderous knock rattled the door, making Jihyo yelp in panic. She hurriedly tugged her clothes back into place, cheeks flushed and chest heaving, and threw herself onto the seat beside Kiho, trying to look innocent even as the air around her crackled with unspent heat. The RV door creaked open slowly, and Hyuk’s heart nearly stopped.

There, silhouetted in the doorway like a goddess descending to earth, stood Momo—the only other idol who could rival Jihyo’s lethal allure. Dressed in a short skirt and a tight crop top that left little to the imagination, she stepped inside with a smile that could melt steel, her eyes sweeping over the room before settling on the guilty-looking pair. With a playful glint in her gaze, she closed the door behind her, trapping all that smoldering tension inside the RV.

That is it for part 1. Part 2 continues with sneaky actions inside the RV with Momo and Jihyo at the same time. Kiho, you lucky bastard

[fishnapple]

Positive changes coming into your life

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost

Book a reading with me - KO-FI (Read this post : personal reading)

LAPIS LAZULI

The theme is balance, your life will be much more balanced in terms of material comfort, resting and working, dream and reality. Balance means that you will learn how to adjust various areas in your life to fit each other. You will slowly understand the "rhythm" of your life, when you need to rest, when you need to focus, when you need to give, when you need to ask for what you want. During this process, you will come to get to know more about both your physical body and your spirit, giving them both equal care.

You will gain more independence, feeling like you have more control of your life than you previously thought. It might come from the stability of your surroundings, you gain more financial independence, or you will gain a new insight that helps you feel more contented with what you have, rather than seeking more and more and never feeling enough. One thing I notice is that you will focus solely on doing what's good for your growth, your decisions will be based on your gut feelings and your introspection. You will no longer feel the pull to compare yourself with others, as you follow your own heart and not be distracted by everyone around you. This period will be a tremendous growth for you.

Life will treat you fairly for your effort. Problems won't go away all at once, but you're capable of tackling them one by one. Your emotions will run high, sometimes you will feel like you're being swept along by the current of your emotions. But you will not let yourself drown in them, instead, you will surf along with them, make them into your greatest inspiration and motivation. Your mantra will be "I got this". Your inner strength will manifest outwardly. You will shed old unhealthy habits and look after your physical vessel more, being more active and flexible. A healthy heart and a healthy body will be accompanied by a fresh mind, one that can conjure up magic out of the most mundane thing.

ROSE QUARTZ

Spring is here, after a long bitter winter. A joyful time ahead. You will feel like waking up from a long slumber, sleepiness will still follow initially, life will still feel groggy, but not for long. The cold winter will finally go away, new spirit will fill your heart, and along with it, your whole body. Your steps will feel lighter, smiles will grace your face more frequently. If you've been feeling down, lost or disappointed lately, you will soon see the light peaking through new leaves. 

Your life will be much "softer". You don't need to force anything or try too hard to achieve something. You learn to feel at ease, to let yourself rest more and dream more. You don't have to walk briskly with purpose or run towards a goal, you can stroll along the streets more leisurely. Not that everything will suddenly become better or solve itself, but your attitude will change, and that's enough to make some previous problems dissipate.

If you're struggling with feeling confident and worry a lot about security, you're going to gain a new confidence boost. Maybe you will meet someone new or stumble upon a new knowledge that encourages you to take a step forward, to dare to dream bigger, be more daring. I see new acquaintances, people who are much different from you but can lift you up greatly. 

If before, pursuing what or whom you desired might seem out of reach with too many obstacles then now, you won't see those obstacles as anything of consequence anymore. You're willing to give it a try, no matter the result. And you will be rewarded for that attitude. The act of going after your dreams is exhilarating. You perceive it as a fun challenge, an experiment that you can enjoy and go at your own pace. Your energy feels both fast and languid. No frantic move, just a little bit of faith in luck and a heavy dose of romanticising that will expand your connections with the world and its people.

CARNELIAN

The theme of mental clarity will be prevalent in the upcoming period of your life. Confusion and misunderstanding will be solved quickly, or if they still linger from the past then you will gain a new understanding of them and be able to move on or find closure. You will likely gain decisive information from people around you, especially those who are close to you that will help you make decisions more easily. Prepare to speak the truth and hear the truth, no matter how unpleasant or unexpected it is. You will be more receptive to it, even when it's harsh or feel criticising, you will no longer react with hurt or too much sensitivity, because you can be detached enough to not let things go into your heart too deeply. It doesn't mean that you will be cold, on the contrary, you will be more compassionate and humble, that's the quiet power you will gain.

Unexpected events might happen around you that can alter the way you perceive the world. They might not even be related to you, you might just hear them from your friends or acquaintances, but they will open a new way of thinking for you. It's like waking up from a long slumber, you're jolted out of the sleepiness and wide awake, with a clearer mind. Don't be too alarmed if you have some arguments or debates with people, they will be great opportunities for you to sharpen your mind and exercise objective judgement. People might remark that you seem much more lively, much more assertive than before. It's just the beginning, you're slowly waking up to yourself, prioritising the vitality and jollity of your life.

TIGER'S EYE

I see fluid movements, gentle and expanding, like a person dancing. The energy inside your heart will uncoil itself and spread out gracefully. A more gentle melody will be playing for you.

This upcoming period of your life will be much more simple and straightforward. You won't concern yourself with complicated matters, heartaches or imminent catastrophes. Your focus will be on finding peace, be in it and keep enjoying life as much as possible. The energy is very soft and playful. And that's how you will overcome any hardships lurking around. 

What might have plagued your mind recently won't be so as you adopt a more carefree and spontaneous attitude. You know that nothing lasts forever, so you enjoy every moment yet also don't hold on tightly to any. The heavy burdens will be lifted from your shoulders. You need this very much. Not everything has to be about being good, being proficient, being orderly, being responsible. You will still hold yourself highly with maturity, but you don't let life's obstacles put a hiccup in the great melody that you're playing. Social life and enjoyment of beauty will be a great focus of yours. Pleasant new connections will be formed, old connections will be strengthened. 

You will find fulfilment in everyday activities. Giving and receiving will be very satisfying. You give and you will be given back in return. You will see the flow of life, the cycle of if and you will go along with it, not against it. You're active but in a quiet and accepting way. You don't need to be constantly moving, constantly striving. You let yourself rest and still, so that the working of nature can work its magic for you.

CITRINE

If you've been busy lately, having lots of things and people to take care of, or you've been feeling depleted lately, lacking the time and energy to have fun and pamper yourself, then it's about to change. You will have time to retreat into yourself, stay away from the draining influences around you for a while and have time to recenter yourself. You've been working hard, it's time to tuck yourself in cosily, have a rejuvenating rest and allow yourself to rest, to feel good. 

Life will slow down for you, not the kind of no-progress slowing down, but the kind that lets you catch your breath. The fight is over, you don't need to exert yourself all the time. Now it's time to heed the call of your heart, pull away the worries and let your energy flow into where you're called to. I see a time of discovery, of opening a new perspective. You're about to get your mind opened wide and let in many new wonders.

If you're pulled to spirituality and the occult, trust that the more you dig deeper, the more free you will feel, the more clear the road is for you. You will get intuitive messages about where to go, what to do, those messages will likely come from the sensations of your body, the involuntary reactions, like a jump of excitement, heart beating fast full of anticipation. You might wonder why you feel a strange sensation out of nowhere, or called to try out new tastes, new scents, new activities. Don't hesitate, grab hold of that sensation and honor it, you might never know what promising future it could lead you to.

AVENTURINE

You will be blessed with wise insights that allow you to move forward cautiously and strategically. You might have the tendency to act from the place of fear, defending yourself against invisible threats that endanger your stability. This survivor mentality can't protect you from harm all the time. There will be times when you have to step outside of your comfort zone and be bold and adventure forth with blind eyes. But the good news is your heart won't be blind and so is your mind. 

In the incoming period of time, you might have to face some untrustworthy words and actions that raise your doubt about the trust you placed on people. But your discernment will be wide awake during this time. This is the time of illusions shattering. You will hear clearly, see clearly and make your decisions based on facts and concrete proofs. Glibness won't be able to hide the truth from you. You stand firm in your stance and trust yourself more than ever. Your words hold wisdom and faith. You will be able to chase away trickery with humour and prudence. 

In turn, you will be rewarded with pleasant surprises. More fun adventures await you at the most unexpected times. Your light will finally have the space to shine. Don't hesitate at breaking away from old habits. You know deep within that your heart has already set its sight on a farther horizon. 

[sarah-the-bird-nerd]

Three - Michael's Version

Note: Here is Michael's version of Three...I tried for more fluff than angst...I'm not as happy with this one.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, Fem!Reader, no beta, normal ER violence, mentions of COVID, mentions of death, some Pitt Fest

Summary: Snippets of your relationship with Michael and how you wordlessly say that you love each other, and the fallout of Pitt Fest.

You met Dr. Michael Robinavitch under less than ideal circumstances shortly after his split from Janey. You and your friend had been leaving a coffee shop when a car jumped the curb. You were fine, but your friend had been clipped and gone down. Michael had been down the street walking home after a long shift and jumped into action. Thankfully, other than some bumps and bruises and being shaken up, Emily was fine, and no hospital trip was needed. Both of you were on your way home with strict instructions on what to look for in case he'd missed something, and Michael was on his way to his own home. You thought that was the last you'd see of him until the following week, running into him at the coffee shop where you were able to properly thank him, buying him a coffee, and the rest was history.

You were practically inseparable; if he wasn't at work, you were at his place or vice versa, usually curled up on the couch. On his off weekends, you found yourself out at his cabin, hidden away in the woods, hiking and sitting around the fire at night, cuddled up to each other and just enjoying the peace and quiet. Those were your favourite moments, just the two of you, no busy city, no pagers, no rushing around. Just you, Michael and nature. It was at this cabin that he told you he loved you for the first time. You had gone on an early morning hike, humouring him and his ridiculous need to be up at the crack of dawn. You'd let him guide you along on one of the trails you took all the time, resting on a fallen log at the top of the trail, overlooking the lake with the sun coming up. With your back against his chest, one of his arms around your waist, the other around your shoulders, he'd whispered those three little words into your ear.

You repeated them, turning your head to smile at him, and squeezing his knee three times.

—

1 year into your relationship, COVID happened, you ended up out of a job, for who knows how long, as you were deemed a 'non-essential' worker. As a result, Michael invited you to move in, both of you knowing that if you didn't move in, you'd see a lot less of him due to his job. It was an easy decision, you practically lived with him as it was. You had tried to argue because you couldn't pay rent until you went back to work. He didn't care, wanted you close, and that was the end of that. The only places he went during COVID were work and home, immediately getting in the shower before he'd collapse in bed or on the sofa with you. You looked after everything else, the shopping, cooking, cleaning, and making sure that he was okay, and when he'd come home, you'd be ready, food warm, comfy clothes ready and ready to be whatever he needed that day. Usually, you'd be curled around him or him around you, three little squeezes to his hand letting him know that you were there and that you loved him. Three squeezes always were returned.

As the pandemic continued, with no end in sight, you found yourself sending him to work with boxes of goodies for the emergency team, cookies, cakes, anything to try and help raise morale for everyone. Sometimes, you'd send full meals, other times you'd show up yourself, mid-shift, with enough to keep an elephant on its feet. Before COVID, you'd done so once a month, during it was at least twice a week. Baking and cooking for them all kept you busy when you weren't doing virtual classes, something you'd started when you had moved in, wanting to do something more with your life and to help people. Michael had been supportive, and suddenly you found yourself starting classes to be a social worker, aiming to work in the hospital with Kiara, who had become a great resource. Needless to say, you were a welcome face in the emergency department. Every time you visited, you made sure that you left three taps or squeezed him, letting him know you loved him.

—

6 months into COVID, and you weren't feeling well. Michael was working a double, and you had a fever that was rapidly climbing, and your chest felt tighter and tighter. You tried not to panic, for the most part, you were a healthy, young woman, except for having asthma, but it was controlled, so nothing to worry about, and you likely didn't have COVID anyway...Or so you thought. When you lost your ability to smell, you thought it was just a cold, when you took a drink of tea and it tasted like, well, nothing, you knew you were screwed. You swore and grabbed one of the testing kits that Michael kept on hand. 15 minutes later, you had confirmation that you had COVID. You texted Michael to warn him, letting him know you were sanitising everything the best that you could, throwing your bedsheets in the laundry and moving into the guest room where you would stay until cleared.

He'd texted back with a thumbs up.

—

When he'd gotten back home 7 hours later, he hopped in the shower like he usually did, changed into clean clothes and checked the laundry, finding that you had managed to move the stuff from the washer into the dryer. He'd knocked on the guest room door, a mask on his face and just poked his head in the door enough to lay eyes on you. "You good?" He'd asked. You managed a weak smile and a thumbs-up. "I feel like shit, but I'm fine. I'll keep you posted." He'd nodded. "Yell if you need me...better yet, test, save your airway." You gave him a mock salute and sent him on his way.

The next morning, you were significantly worse, coughing more than you'd ever coughed in your life, and you were sure you'd cracked a rib or two in the process. By 5 am, Michael was moving around the apartment and stopped to poke his head in the door again, mask in place and gloves on, wanting to evaluate you without waking you up. Not that you'd had a whole lot of sleep by the sound of things. He wasn't happy with what he saw. Your breathing was laboured, and you were paler than he'd ever seen you. He used the temperature gun on your forehead and ended up shaking you awake, shoving Tylenol and water in you in hopes that he'd get your temp down. He left you alone after that, checking in again at 6 am, just before he was ready to leave. With no changes, he'd had enough and carried you to his truck and took you to the ER himself.

You didn't leave for a month, ending up on a ventilator. His anxiety started the day you were intubated. He spent 90% of his time at the hospital during that time, sneaking into your room throughout the day, squeezing your hand three times every time he saw you. You were in good hands, and he knew that Adamson was looking after you himself. When you were finally well enough to come off the ventilator, you awoke, confused, scared and unsure of what day it was. When you'd finally been allowed to see Michael, you'd cried, told him you loved him, and he responded by proposing.

—

If you thought Michael was a mess after you'd woken up, he was even worse when Adamson went down. Outside of the nurses, Michael didn't want anyone else looking after his mentor. If it hadn't been for Jack Abbot, Michael wouldn't have left the hospital, but when he did, you could tell that he wasn't home, not really. He went through the day-to-day motions, showering, eating (only because you made him), and fitfully sleeping. You stayed by his side, being as supportive as you could, letting him know that you were there for him the best that you could.

The day that Dana called you to tell you that they'd lost Adamson, you had no idea what version of Michael that you would get. You left the apartment immediately, knowing that he was going to need you. When you arrived, Dana let you know that he was taking a breather on the roof, not uncommon for him. You'd approached him carefully, not sure if he would lash out; he didn't typically, but this was different. He must have felt you before he heard you because he turned, his eyes red, his face crumpled as he reached out to you. You moved quickly, stepping into his arms and holding him close. He was mumbling as he sobbed into your shoulder, and when you realised what he was saying, your heart broke even more.

"He saved you, but I couldn't save him..."

All you could do was hold him tight, rhythmically you squeezed his shoulder in bursts of three...telling him you loved him over and over again.

—

Michael wasn't quite the same after that. No one was, not after the pandemic. He had frequent panic attacks that he had tried to hide; they got better but would get worse the closer time got to the anniversary of Adamson's death. He always got quiet in the weeks before, his sleep interrupted more than usual. He was better for a little while, especially once restrictions were lifted enough that you finally got married. But every year like clockwork, he would close himself off, but you understood, you wished he'd let you help more, but he wouldn't. He was too stubborn for that.

You woke up the morning of Pitt Fest, expecting Michael to be getting ready to head out with Jake, taking his mind off of everything, and you, currently on maternity leave, would have a blissful day reading and spending time with your 1-month-old daughter Amelia. What you found instead was Michael in the kitchen feeding your daughter, dressed in scrubs like he was going to work. You stared up at him, a small smile on your lips, a phenomenon that seemed to happen every time you saw him holding his little girl. You leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "That doesn't look like someone who is going to Pitt Fest...What are you doing, Mikey?"

He looked up at you, slightly startled, but shook it off fairly quickly. "I can't avoid working today forever, and Jake wanted to take his girlfriend to Pitt Fest so..." He shrugged, pushing himself off the counter where he was leaning before approaching you, he handed you the baby before framing your face in his hands. "I will be fine, stop worrying." You snorted, leaning up to kiss him softly.

You tapped his face gently with one finger three times. "I always worry."

He smirked a bit. "I love you, too."

—

You received several texts from Michael throughout the day. You were relieved because that meant that he was okay, or as okay as he could be. You texted Dana to double check, she said he was okay for the most part, a few off moments, but he was okay. Four hours in, Dana let you know that he was having a bad day, they had lost more than one patient, and he was hiding it well, but she could tell that he was struggling.

Hours later, your phone went off again, only this time it was a safety alert, a warning that there was a shooter at Pitt Fest and that people were to avoid the area. You swore, texting Michael that you had heard, that you loved him and would be here waiting up whenever he got back home. He didn't respond, but you knew he would have been alerted first and would answer you when and if he could. Your worry then moved to Jake, texting both him and his mom. No answer. Jack had called you as he was rushing out the door, letting you know that he was heading in to help and that he would let you know how Michael was the moment that he could. You were glad that you both had good friends in the hospital who would help to look after each other.

—

What seemed like years later, Amelia was in her crib, and you were curled up on the couch, a movie on in the background that you weren't watching. You shot up when you heard his keys in the door, rushing to the door where you practically wrenched it open. He stared down at you, his eyes red and tired, looking like he'd aged a good twenty years. You pulled him close. "Come here, I've got you." You held him tight for a second before tugging him to the bedroom. You sat against the headboard, patting your lap. "Come on."

He didn't have to be told twice, kicking off his shoes before putting his head in your lap, burying his face in your stomach with one arm wrapped around your waist. You worked your fingers through his hair. "I've got you, Michael. I know that you're beating yourself up, and don't tell me that you're not, I know you. But you did all you could, okay? You always do. I know that it sucks, but you tried, and for every patient you have lost, you have saved 100 more."

You're heart shattered when he finally spoke. "Leah's dead. I tried...and I couldn't. Jake hates me." I had known already, both Janey and Dana texting me, but the pain in his voice hurt even more. "I'm not going to say its going to be okay, because it sucks...but Jake will understand in time. Right now, he's mad at the world, but he'll come around. You have me. You have Amelia, and we love you."

He didn't respond verbally, but he squeezed you tight around the waist, his hand finding yours and squeezing three times.

I love you.

[wordsofwhimsy]

❀ꗥ～𝐁𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧 ～ꗥ❀

❀ꗥ～ Part Four ～ꗥ❀

Pairing: Main!Mark Grayson x Southern Belle!Reader

Warnings: None

Tags: Fluff, slice-of-life, Mark’s just down bad okay – bro’s never gonna be okay again

Word Count: 2,253

Synopsis: By some grace of God, Mark’s found that he’s fallen into a lunch routine with the most beautifully sweet woman he’s ever known – you. When you bump into each other at the grocery store, you take pity on his tragic shopping cart and decide to cook for him. Mark is absolutely floored (and possibly already planning your wedding). He gets ready for the night like it’s the most important event of his life. And for him, it really is. This isn’t just dinner—it’s destiny.

a/n: Rrrr probably gonna do a time skip after this to them being in a relationship – thoughts?

read part three ❀ꗥ～Here! ～ꗥ❀

It’d been a few weeks since that first muffin under the tree.

And somehow—miraculously—you were still sitting with him.

Not just once. Not just out of politeness. Every day.

Sometimes William was there, sometimes not (Mark couldn’t decide which was worse), but no matter what, by the time lunch rolled around, you were always in your usual spot beneath that wide old tree, pastel lunchbox in hand, blanket smoothed out like something out of a storybook.

And every time, Mark tried to play it cool. Tried not to act like his entire day revolved around that thirty-minute window. Tried not to count the seconds until you looked up and smiled at him with that sunbeam expression, like he was the one brightening your day.

(And he failed. Every single time.)

He even tried to contribute one day—showing up with a Tupperware container of his own, full of something vaguely resembling “lunch.”

That had been… an experience.

“Oh, you cooked this?” you’d asked, looking at the charred, unevenly-seasoned spaghetti with genuine interest.

Mark had puffed up, weirdly proud despite the fact that it looked like it had come from a gas station vending machine.

“Yeah,” he said. “I mean—I tried. Figured I’d return the favor. You’ve been making all this great stuff for weeks…”

You’d taken one bite.

Chewed.

Paused.

Then looked at him with nothing but gentle pity in your eyes.

“Oh, honey,” you said, all sweetness, not a trace of judgment. “Thank you. That’s real thoughtful of you.”

A beat.

“But don’t you ever do that again.”

And Mark just sat there, blinking.

He should’ve been mortified. Was mortified, technically. But also?

God.

You were just… so sweet. Even when you were delivering a culinary execution, you sounded like you were singing him a lullaby. Like you couldn’t stand to hurt his feelings—even if his food had just assaulted your taste buds.

Mark stared at you, heart fluttering with something dangerously close to full-blown infatuation.

She’s so nice, he thought, nearly dazed. She is literally the best.

And then, like it was nothing, you reached into your tote and started assembling an entire plate from a spread that could feed a small family. A mini Tupperware of mac and cheese. A warm biscuit wrapped in wax paper. Two slices of honey ham that smelled like love.

You set the whole thing in front of him, added a folded napkin like the final touch on a gift, and smiled like this was just what people did.

“Here,” you said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “No use lettin’ you starve on account’a your pride.”

Mark looked down at the plate. Then up at you. Then back at the plate.

Yep. That was it. That was the exact moment he fell in love.

—

Mark didn’t expect to see you at the grocery store.

He especially didn’t expect to see you in full southern regalia, standing in front of a pile of bruised tomatoes like you were about to write a formal complaint to the produce manager.

He stopped dead in his tracks, cereal box halfway to his cart, and just stared.

Because there you were—ruffled dress in soft, fluttery layers, tiny pink ribbon in your hair, pastel tote slung over your shoulder like you had to be at a picnic in five minutes. You looked like the opening scene of an old western that took place entirely on a wraparound porch with lemonade in crystal glasses.

And Mark?

Mark’s brain blue screened instantly.

It was like seeing a butterfly at a gas station. You didn’t belong here, under this soul-sucking lighting and mind numbingly dull music. You belonged in a meadow. Or a painting. Or maybe just his life, permanently.

You looked up, eyes lighting up as soon as you saw him.

“Well, if it ain’t my favorite lunch date!” you called, waving him over with that same sunshiney smile that had been haunting his dreams for weeks.

He stumbled forward like he was being summoned.

“I didn’t know you shopped here,” he said, already mentally kicking himself because—of course you shopped here. People ate food. You were a person. He was a moron.

You tilted your head, amused. “Well I gotta eat outside’a school too, darlin’. I’m not a cartoon character.”

Mark laughed too hard. The cereal box actually fell out of his hand. He pretended it didn’t happen.

You turned back to the tomatoes, frowning delicately.

“Everything in here’s so sad,” you sighed, poking one with a careful fingertip. “Not a lick’a freshness to be found. Back home we had roadside stands, you know? Where the vegetables still smelled like dirt and sunshine. These…” You wrinkled your nose. “These look like they’ve been sittin’ in the back of a truck since last week.”

Mark just blinked at you, dazed. Sunshine. Dirt. Truck beds. It was poetry. You were poetry.

Then came the kill shot.

“There was this one farm near my granny’s,” you went on, adjusting your little purse like you weren’t saying the most devastating sentence of Mark’s life. “This farmboy worked there every summer—Lord, he could haul a crate’a cantaloupes like nobody’s business. Always smelled like hay and honeysuckle.”

Mark, who had never smelled like anything other than deodorant and despair, felt his soul ascend.

Farmboy??

Cantaloupes???

HAY AND HONEYSUCKLE???

Mark’s entire life plan reshuffled in real time.

“…I could do that,” he mumbled.

You blinked. “Hm?”

“What? Oh—nothing. Just. Farming’s… neat.”

You gave him a strange little smile. “You alright, sugar? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

“No,” he said quickly. “Nope. Just the produce. Lot of… vibes in this aisle.”

You narrowed your eyes at a zucchini. “They sure ain’t good ones.”

You glanced down into Mark’s cart.

It was… bleak.

Frozen taquitos, an alarming amount of microwaveable mac and cheese, two different brands of soda, and a box of cereal so sugary it could be classified as a biohazard. The only vegetable in sight was a sad little plastic bag of pre-cut carrots, and even they looked ashamed to be there.

Your hand went to your chest like you were catching your breath. “Oh, baby,” you murmured. “No.”

Mark looked down at the cart like he was seeing it for the first time. “What? It’s not that bad…”

You turned to him slowly. “Mark Grayson, I know for a fact your mama didn’t raise you to eat like a raccoon in a vending machine.”

Mark, whose mom had actually tried very hard to teach him to cook, looked appropriately shamed.

You tsked under your breath and gave the mac and cheese box a little pat, like you were comforting it before it got yeeted from the cart.

“This won’t do,” you said, already steering your own cart toward a nearby aisle. “You need somethin’ fresh. Somethin’ made with love. You need…” You turned over your shoulder, all glimmering eyes and righteous purpose. “…me to cook for you?”

Mark forgot how to breathe.

“I—yes? I mean. Sure. If—if that’s a thing. That could happen.”

You just smiled, slow and sweet. “Well good. ‘Cause you’re one sad lasagna away from a medical emergency.”

Mark once again found himself desperately trying to play it cool, and once again failed horribly. If he’d had a ring, he would’ve proposed right there between the canned beans and the chicken stock.

You didn’t even hesitate. You just pushed your cart onward with purpose, ruffles swaying as you marched back toward the good aisles.

“Come on, then,” you called over your shoulder, motioning for him to follow like he was a lost duckling. “If I’m gonna feed you, I gotta make sure you don’t go bringin’ home the wrong flour.”

Mark blinked. “Wait—you’re serious? Like, you’re really gonna cook for me?”

You gave him a look like he’d just asked if rain was wet. “Of course I’m serious. Someone’s gotta save your arteries, sugar.”

He trailed behind you, still not entirely convinced this wasn’t a hallucination. “I mean—just so I’m clear—you mean like, actually cook? For me?”

You rolled your eyes, but it was all fondness. “Yes, Mark. I’m not gonna throw a TV dinner at your head and call it a day.”

Mark’s brain: She’s making me dinner. I’m meeting her family. We’re naming our kids after her great-aunt Magnolia. This is happening.

Meanwhile, you were already tossing things into his cart.

“Self-risin’ flour,” you said, dropping the bag in with a practiced hand. “None’a that all-purpose nonsense, y’hear?”

Mark nodded dumbly. “Yes ma’am.”

“Buttermilk. Real buttermilk—not that watered-down junk. You don’t got a cast iron skillet, do you?”

“Uh—no?”

You clicked your tongue. “We’ll fix that.”

He watched as you built a grocery list out of pure instinct—cornmeal, baking soda, bacon grease (which you somehow had in a tiny mason jar in your own cart???), and a bunch of other ingredients he could barely pronounce but would now kill for.

“And I hope you like greens,” you added, eyeing a bundle of collards like you were evaluating a prize hog. “’Cause I make a mean mess’a 'em.”

Mark had officially stopped blinking. “You’re incredible,” he blurted.

You just laughed, breezy and sweet. “Lord, you city boys really don’t know what to do with a hot meal, do you?”

To you, it was simple. Southern courtesy. Feed the boy, show him a little kindness, make sure he doesn’t keel over before midterms.

To Mark?

This was courtship.

This was destiny.

This was love.

—

Some hours later Mark was lingering awkwardly near the kitchen counter, freshly showered and suspiciously well-groomed.

Debbie didn’t even look up from the cutting board. “So… who is she?”

Mark froze. “What? Who?”

Now she looked up, a single eyebrow raised in that mother knows all way.

“I gave birth to you, Mark. You think I don’t notice when my son suddenly starts brushing his hair before dinner?”

He tugged at his collar. “Okay, first of all—rude. Second of all… I mean, yeah. There’s a girl.”

Debbie leaned on the counter, full of quiet, smug mom joy. “Mhm. And?”

“She—uh. She invited me over. Tonight.”

A pause.

“...For dinner?”

Mark nodded.

And Debbie, knife still in hand, gasped like he just announced his engagement. “Oh my god, she’s cooking for you?”

Mark blinked. “Is that—like, a big deal?”

“Mark!” She set the knife down like she needed both hands to fully express the moment. “Do you know how rare that is? In high school?”

Mark shrugged, clearly trying to play it off. “She’s just… like that. Super sweet. Southern. Real southern. She called my cooking a crime but somehow made it sound like a compliment.”

Debbie tilted her head, heart full. “She sounds lovely.”

“She’s kind of… amazing.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I feel like I’m meeting her soul every time she opens a Tupperware.”

Debbie smiled. “You better be polite. You offer to do dishes. And you tell her thank you like you mean it.”

Mark nodded solemnly. “I already mean it.” Then, after a beat, he breathes, “…What do I wear?”

Debbie chuckled, soft and knowing. “Something clean. Something nice. You’re not just eating dinner, sweetheart. You’re being fed. That’s love.”

—

Mark stood at the bottom of the porch steps, staring up at the house like it had materialized from a daydream.

It was all soft wood and warm light. A pale blue door. White trim, slightly worn in the corners. There were flower boxes under the windows, each one blooming with cheerful, slightly unruly color like even the plants had a drawl.

The front porch was deep and wide, with a swing swaying lazily in the breeze and a pair of boots tucked beside the welcome mat. Wind chimes clinked gently above the door, and somewhere in the distance, a dog barked like it was guarding the edge of the world.

Mark swallowed hard.

Of course this is where you lived. Of course.

It wasn’t just a house. It was a setting. A vibe. He could already picture it: summer afternoons, mason jars full of lemonade, the sound of water trickling from a backyard creek where hypothetical children with wild curls and big imaginations would go looking for frogs.

He checked his shirt—button-down, navy blue, not too fancy but definitely not casual. Slacks. Actual slacks. He hadn’t worn slacks since the last funeral he attended, and somehow this felt just as intense.

And in his hand?

Flowers.

Just a small bouquet from the nicer section of the grocery store. Pale yellow daisies and soft pink something-or-others. He wasn’t a botanist. He just hoped they looked like he tried.

Mark stared at the door.

Then the flowers.

Then back at the door.

“Okay,” he muttered, shifting from foot to foot. “Not a date. Not a date. It’s just… dinner. With a girl. Who invited you to her actual home. And is cooking for you. Who you think about constantly. Who may or may not be your entire future. Not a date.”

He closed his eyes. Took a deep breath.

Then climbed the steps and knocked.

A second passed. Then two.

And then the door opened, and there you were.

Ribbons in your hair. Apron tied around your waist. That same slow, sweet smile that knocked the wind out of him every single time.

“Well hey, sugar,” you beamed. “Right on time.”

Mark forgot every word he’d ever known.

“…Hi.”

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

I want the LaDS boys to react when someone else accidently makes his s/o sexy gasp/moan; someone had randomly poked a spot on her back to get her attention, but it was one of her sensitive spots. Does that make sense? You can write them all or pick one.

Hands off!

Tags: LADS men x fem!Reader, established relationships, jealous LADS men, threats of violence (Rafayel’s) and slight stalking (Caleb’s), suggestive content, NSFW (Sylus’s), MDNI

An: what a wonderfully devious request, i love it.

ZAYNE

The two of you were at a fundraising banquet. The hospital was raising money for pediatric oncology treatment. While Zayne wasn't an oncologist, he made a habit to show his face at most Akso Hospital events, especially ones for a good cause.

You were surrounded by city hall representatives, nurses, doctors, and other big wigs in the healthcare industry. While you felt out of your league, Zayne assured you that he often felt out of place as well, but it was for a good cause at the end of the day.

Giving your temple a light kiss, Zayne follows one of his residents towards the small dessert table that the hospital has set up.

You busy yourself, listening to another doctor's wife prattle on about a recent trip she took to the islands recently. You nurse a glass of champagne to your lips as you're only half listening to her. Inwardly, you wonder when Zayne was going to be back.

“Ah~!” you gasp, face reddening as you jolt slightly. You spin on your heel, looking to see whoever just grazed their hand over your lower back.

You feel you skin grow hot with embarrassment as you see a fellow doctor that Zayne works closely with behind you. He's a little bit older, much old enough to know better than to touch a married woman there. "Oh, I apologize miss. I didn't mean to startle you."

Before you can even think of how to respond, you feel a presence press to your side, and you immediately recognize the smell of your husband's cologne.

"Dr. Hartford, to what do I owe the pleasure?" his stoic voice fills the space, and his hand steadily slides across your lower back until he wraps his palm conspicuously around your hip. It's subtle, but he's staking a claim over you.

"Dr. Zayne! It's so good to see you. I see this must your missus," Dr. Hartford says with a jolly smile. His cheeks and nose are red telling you one of two things: either he's embarrassed to be caught touching you while Zayne was present or he's had far too much alcohol. You decide that it was likely a combination of both factors.

"This is my wife, y/n." Zayne says as his hand imperceptibly tightens around your hip. It's not very often you get to see this more jealous side of him. "For your own benefit, Dr. Hartford, it'd be wise to keep your hands to yourself in the future. You know how... touchy HR can be about these sorts of situations."

Your eyes widen as you look up towards your husband in slight shock and awe. Only Zayne could threaten someone so professionally and look so handsome while doing so.

Now, if only you can convince him to take a few sips of champagne tonight, and you'll have yourself a good night.

RAFAYEL

Being a Lemurian meant that every one of his senses is attuned to be able to experience his beloved better. This meant he practically heard your small moan before it ever even left your lips.

His eyes search the crowd at the art exhibit he was forced to attend. You promised to stay by his side, but where were you now?

To the average person’s eye, Rafayel looks completely normal right now. Someone would even say he seems aloof, but to the people who truly know him, he’s seething with an unforeseen anger.

Once his eyes zero in on you and Thomas of all people, Rafayel feels his anger only double. He doesn’t even excuse himself away from the group of people that were talking and interviewing him about his latest painting. He walks over straight to you.

“You know, it’s not nice to touch things that aren’t yours,” he says, throwing a quick glare over at Thomas. His voice sounded lighthearted, almost like he was some petulant child who caught someone playing with his favorite toy, but you knew the truth.

Thomas’s face was already beet red. When he grabbed your side to stabilize himself, he didn’t think you were going to make that noise. He also didn��t consider that Rafayel would hear it.

You look towards your boyfriend, who is nearly pouting at you from the whole exchange, and you playfully roll your eyes. “Thomas was just trying to keep his balance. He didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Well, if my girlfriend was standing beside me, then Thomas could’ve grabbed someone else’s girlfriend, bur no, he had to grab mine,” Rafayel huffed as he turned his nose up at the two of you, putting on a show of bratty behavior.

“You’re so helpless, Rafayel.” You tease, looping your arm around his to follow him back to his painting.

“Only for you, miss bodyguard.” He then reached out a hand and drops a piece of paper onto Thomas’s extended hand. “That’s for you.”

Thomas waited until the two of you were a distance away before he slowly unfolded the small piece of paper. His eyebrows furrowed as he read the words on the paper.

I’ll kill you and paint with your remains xD

Stunned, Thomas looked back up to where you and Rafayel were. His eyebrows furrowed a little bit, wondering if Rafayel was just playing or not…

XAVIER

The moment a sharp breathy moan leaves your lips while you, Xavier, and another Hunter are out on the field, you know one thing is certain. Xavier's going to kill him.

His hand is still wrapped around your waist. He had only grabbed you to protect you from stepping in a puddle on your way towards reported wanderer activity.

Unfortunately for this poor hunter, who you thought was actually named Hunter, your waist was where you were most sensitive.

Xavier immediately spun around, and his light blade was out within milliseconds. His sapphire blue eyes narrowed as he saw where Hunter was grasping you. His jaw tightens, and you can immediately perceive the stormy look on his face.

“Hands off her,” the blonde hunter demanded. “She’s fine. She can handle herself.”

“Right— I was just.. helping her out, man. No harm; no foul,” the other hunter said as he took his hands off of you. He held his palms facing Xavier in a surrendering position.

No one in the UNICORNS knew about yours and Xavier’s budding relationship, but they were going to find out real quickly if Xavier’s jealousy kept getting the better of him.

“Y/n, you should lead,” Xavier says, ignoring Hunter’s statement. He puts you in the front of their small group, and he trails right behind you, leaving Hunter in the back.

While your back is turned, your boyfriend casually pointed his light blade towards Hunter, forcing space between him and the group. He then shot a glare that could kill over his shoulder to Hunter.

The intention was clear. Xavier was posturing. His glare said all the unspoken words that he could not. ‘Stay away. This is mine.’

The poor man didn’t even speak to you for the rest of the mission. He was way too intimidated by Xavier to even consider it. Oh well, Xavier would just have to keep you company.

SYLUS The two of you were at a couple’s massage. Well, you were getting a massage, and he got to watch with a glass of wine on the side.

When the masseuse’s fingers rubbed into your neck, targeting all the knots from stress and tension, a breathy little whimper escaped your throat.

Sylus was already having a hard enough time concealing just how much of an effect you had on him. His right ankle was propped against his left knee, and he was settled back onto the chair.

He let out a deep, rich laugh that only men with old money seemed to have.

You were clearly embarrassed, clenching your eyes shut as you profusely apologized. The masseuse tried to reassure you that it was natural, and it only meant she was doing a good job.

“Careful kitten, if you stress yourself out anymore, you’re going to need a massage for this massage,” he teased, swirling his wine glass in his glass cup.

“Oh no, that would be sooo terrible,” you responded back with sarcasm bitten into your tone.

“We all know you’re having a good time, kitten. No need to rub it in everyone’s faces.” A smirk curled on his lips as his roamed over your body, only covered with a towel.

“Shut it-!” you whined, feeling the embarrassment creep back in.

He was doing a good job at hiding it, but his pants felt extremely tight. The thought of you letting out those delicate sounds accidentally, so overwhelmed by painful pleasure…

He took another sip of his wine, and he eyed the masseuse closely. He had gotten massages from her in the past. He knew she was happily married, and he had nothing to worry about. Even if the masseuse was some single guy, he would’ve still been comfortable in his position. He knows you’re not going anywhere; he trusts you with his entire being.

Still, he watched extra closely. He now felt the need to learn how to use his hands like that. The next time you got a massage, he wanted to be the one to make you let out those noises. He also wanted to be in private, so he could bury his cock into you in peace.

CALEB

Oh, oh man… First of all, when you and Caleb first started dating, he barely let you out of arm’s length of his side. He couldn’t help it. He needed you there with him :(

However, when he finally started letting both of you do things on your own, he still had a habit of watching you.

You were going to go get drinks with a girl friend? Oh okay, that’s fine… the bar has cameras anyway :)

You needed to go to the grocery store? Caleb’s already hacked into their security system. No big deal.

You wanted to go out for a walk? Sure, Caleb would just walk a good enough distance behind you so you didn’t see him, which is exactly what was happening when he heard that small whine..

He knows that whine by heart. Hell, he’s been teasing you for years, but he’s only heard that specific whine when he’s rearranging your guts.

Subtlety be damned. He didn’t care about staying incognito whenever there was someone else who just got to hear that very, very sweet noise from your lips.

When he jogs straight up to you, he’s nearly panting but not from jogging — his pissed. The guy who had gotten you to make that noise was profusely apologizing for accidentally pulling your hair. Apparently, he saw a bug on you or something…

It didn’t matter to Caleb. Of course, he was polite, putting on a good show by laughing and teasing you. He ignored the confused looks that you threw his way.

“Yep, my girlfriend is so unaware, haha. Thanks for getting that bug off her. She hates those things,” he flashes that pretty smile that’s gotten him out of trouble for years.

While guiding you away from the man, he assures you that he was just going the same way as you because he needed to run to the market really quick for a very specific ingredient for what he was making for dinner tonight.

And of course, the kind stranger was never heard from again. If you have any information on the missing man, please contact the local authorities or the Deepspace Aviation Administration.