#I just realized the name is a deep pull to that question that was like

[everythingseasoning]

Curses and Lifts.

Rafayel x Reader. // angst, fluff. abandonment issues, relief.

Rafayel has just finished telling you the story about his ��friend” who’d gotten himself stranded on the surface, 800 or so years ago. Surviving only because of a woman who noticed and cared, his friend went on to live, saved in the same way you rescued that fish a minute ago. But Rafayel called it a tragedy.

“Because he fell in love with the girl who saved him?” You ask him. The night surrounds the two of you, a smooth midnight blue. It’s like the two of you are underneath the deep ocean itself, the air cool against your skin.

“Love?” Rafayel asks, confusion flitting across his face as he stares at the ground. It’s as if he’s taken aback slightly by the word.

Rafayel’s gaze suddenly locks onto your face, his violet eyes glimmering like stars in the lamplight.

“…Yeah,” he says, the weight of his gaze pulling you in like the tide. He looks at you like you’re his world, like he needs you, like you’re the oyster and he’s the pearl seeking refuge. It’s tinged with hurt.

Rafayel turns back to focus on the fountain in front of him, a thoughtful expression creased onto his features. “Love,” he repeats, the word solid as it leaves his mouth.

“Now do you see how dangerous the world can be?”

It’s suddenly silent. Rafayel has entered his mind space again. He’s lost in thought as you study him in all his quiet, the urge to know what he’s thinking growing stronger by the second.

Love is the most twisted curse of all. Be careful who you save. You might end up cursing them with tragedy instead.

Your soft, “Hey,” brings Rafayel out from his thoughts. His eyes have always been so expressive.

“What’s wrong?” You ask gently, your smaller hand reaching out to touch Rafayel’s cold one. He jumps slightly before looking wide-eyed at where your skin touches his.

His hand moves on top of yours in a flash, his grip surprisingly firm as his face closes the distance between you two.

“You can’t leave me again, okay?” Desperation and insistence lace his words.

“Promise me— promise me you’ll never disappear again,” Rafayel breathes, his violet eyes boring into yours. You blink rapidly.

“Rafayel— You…” you start, before swallowing. “That wasn’t really your friend in the story, was it?” You ask, believing now that he had woven fiction into his personal anecdote, making it up that his friend was a merman, that it was centuries ago. He had probably been left by a woman he took great interest in, instead. Your heart aches for him. You always knew he hadn’t been loved properly in his life; The signs were there. His clinginess, his immaturity, his urge to be cared for— they had all made it clear.

Rafayel ignores your question, imploring you again.

“Promise me.”

Your other hand moves to clasp his, both of your hands cupping Rafayel’s now. You swear you saw tears glimmering for a quick, fleeting moment.

“I promise, Rafayel,” you say, your gaze firm and gentle all at once.

Something passes in Rafayel’s eyes. You can’t name it yet. You can’t study it either— Rafayel has engulfed you in a hug before you can blink, taut muscle and warmth pressing against you.

“Good. Thank you,” he whispers before his voice comes back strong, “Don’t ever leave me.” Rafayel’s breath is soft against your ear, the little tickle contrasting the hard desperation in his voice. His arms squeeze you tighter. Tears spring to your eyes. Rafayel… you must have been through so much.

“You’ll never be alone again, Rafayel.” You breathe the promise into the night air.

You feel a sudden pressure against your jawline—

The warmth pulls away slightly. Rafayel stares into your eyes, your faces inches away, his strong arms still wrapped around you. The proximity makes your heart race, and you’re sure he can feel it too. His breath is hot, the sounds of breathing drowning out the nearby bubbling of the water fountain. As Rafayel gazes into your eyes, you realize he had kissed your neck.

His chest rises and falls rapidly, and he’s looking at you like he needs more— needs to be closer— needs to have you, needs to know you’re his, not just by words.

You respond in kind, cupping his face gently, pressing your thumb into his cheek, tenderly swiping his skin. He nuzzles into your touch, pressing another soft kiss onto your hand.

Your breath hitches in your throat. Rafayel looks at you, leaning forward more as his hands find your cheeks, holding your face in his hands. He stares down at you, murmuring into the small space between you two.

“You were the one who cursed me in the first place. It’s only fair that you lift it.”

…

To be continued?

…AN below:

my heart, I’m so sorry

You were just an unloved soul who didn’t know what love was until you were unexpectedly rescued, then abandoned.

No wonder you’re so fucking clingy and immature. No wonder you need constant communication. You never once tasted a stable love. Rafayel, you are so afraid of being left alone forever again. (I will never abandon him.)

[sincerelybubbles]

I wrote a continuation to this forever ago and never posted it, but I want you to have it finally <3 warnings: none pairing: hotch x shy!reader after the Rossi dinner party

||||

The ride home is quiet, save for the low hum of the car’s engine and the occasional flick of the windshield wipers. The rain isn’t heavy, just a soft drizzle, enough to blur the streetlights into golden smears across the windshield. It matches the warmth in your chest, the soft buzz of wine lingering pleasantly in your veins.

Aaron had insisted on driving you home, his voice leaving no room for argument but full of something gentler than authority—concern. You hadn’t argued. Not really. There’s something reassuring about letting him take care of you, about trusting him in a way that doesn’t need to be spoken aloud. You hadn't had enough wine for it to truly affect you, but the sentiment of keeping you safe was worth the headache of doubling back to get your car tomorrow.

You steal a glance at him from the passenger seat, watching how the passing streetlights paint warm golds and deep shadows over his profile. Strong, steady hands grip the wheel, fingers flexing occasionally as if he needs to remind himself to loosen his hold. His brows are slightly furrowed, his lips pressed together in thought.

He’s always thinking. Always watching. Always carrying the weight of something.

“You’re quiet,” you say softly, voice just above a whisper.

He glances at you briefly before returning his focus to the road. “So are you.”

You smile a little. “I don’t mind the quiet.”

“I know,” he replies, and something in the way he says it makes your stomach flutter. He knows. He understands. He sees you in a way few people do.

You shift slightly in your seat, curling into yourself but keeping your gaze on him. “Thank you for driving me.”

His grip tightens on the wheel again, just for a second. “I wanted to.”

And you believe him.

The rain patters softly against the windshield. It feels safe here, in the dim light, wrapped in the quiet.

“You don’t usually drink much,” he says after a moment, a statement rather than a question. "Not that you especially splurged tonight, but I was surprised when you went for a second and third glass."

You hum. “I like wine, but I don’t like feeling out of control.”

He nods, his profile unreadable. You wonder if he’s thinking about control in the way you are, about the way the two of you hold onto it like armor. The way it protects and isolates all at once.

“But I feel safe with you,” you add, voice quieter, almost like an afterthought.

He turns to look at you at a red light, just for a second. It’s enough. His eyes are soft, deep, searching. You can’t hold his gaze for long without feeling like he might see too much, so you turn your head, watching the droplets race down the window.

“Good,” he finally murmurs. “You should.”

You don’t know how to explain that it’s not just about logic, about knowing you’re physically safe in his presence. It’s the way he watches over you, the way he notices things without needing to be told, the way his presence feels like something solid in a world that so often shifts beneath your feet.

You don’t say anything else for the rest of the drive, and neither does he. But it’s not a silence that begs to be filled. It’s comfortable, natural, something that settles between you both with a kind of certainty.

When he pulls up in front of your place, he puts the car in park but doesn’t make any move to leave. His fingers drum lightly against the steering wheel before stilling. He’s hesitating.

You turn to him, the dim glow of the dashboard illuminating the contemplative lines on his face. “Hotch?”

He doesn’t correct you to call him Aaron. He almost never does, though he wishes you would say his name more often. He swallows, trying to organize the thoughts colliding in his mind.

He loves you.

The realization crashes into him like a rogue wave, all at once and without mercy. He loves you. He loves the way you observe before you speak, the way you care without demanding attention, the way you make space for others without shrinking yourself. He loves the sound of your voice, the soft weight of your presence, the way you look at him like you see the man beneath the badge, beneath the title, and still choose to stay close.

It terrifies him.

For years, he told himself love like this wasn’t meant for him anymore. That he’d had his time, that losing Haley had carved something irreparable into him. That he could live a life of purpose without expecting a life of warmth.

But then you had come along, patient and kind, with your quiet strength and steady presence. And without him realizing, you had become home.

His breath catches slightly, an ache settling in his chest—not a painful one, but the kind that comes with longing, with the fear of having something precious and being terrified to lose it.

You’re watching him now, concern laced in your expression. “Aaron?” You taste his first name on your lips, hoping it shocks him into an answer. Hoping it drags him into revealing his thoughts.

The sound of his name from your lips grounds him. He turns to face you fully, his hands curling into loose fists against his thighs. There’s something vulnerable in his expression, something raw and unguarded that he isn’t used to showing.

“Get inside safe,” he says, voice low, steady. “Text me when you’re in.”

You study him for a second longer before nodding. “I will.”

You hesitate before reaching out, your fingers brushing lightly over his where they rest on his leg. It’s fleeting, but he feels it everywhere.

“Goodnight, Aaron,” you say softly, and the warmth in your voice is enough to unravel him further. You decide to not push him further, savoring the devotion swimming in his eyes without commenting on it.

“Goodnight,” he murmurs, watching as you step out and disappear inside.

He exhales slowly, running a hand down his face as he leans back against the headrest. He should be afraid of this, of what it means, of what it could cost him.

But for the first time in years, love doesn’t feel like something he’s doomed to lose.

It feels like something he’s finally allowed to have.

[kaira-diaries]

Teacher's Pet:

⚠️: smut || age gap (18+) || teacher’s pet trope

pairing: professor!in-ho x fem!reader (no games)

wc: 1.2k

a/n: now that I’ve watched LBH’s entire filmography I’m obsessed with his teacher roles…don’t know if should do more drabbles for this story? Kinda like the idea of continuing their relationship.

summary: I feel like the name of this drabble is self explanatory :)

-> Masterlist <-

It wasn’t like you meant to fall in love.

If you could even call it that.

Infatuation seemed more fitting—an unshakable pull, a slow-burning ache that settled deep in your bones. Perhaps even obsession, the kind that took root beneath your skin and refused to let go.

You weren’t some naive teenager.

You were a junior in college, fully grown, well past the age of consent, old enough to know better. And yet, nothing had prepared you for him.

Your Literature Professor.

Older, impossibly refined, with a presence that commanded attention without effort. His voice was rich, deliberate—each syllable a slow caress against your ears. His eyes, dark and unreadable, held the kind of secrets that made you want to drown in them. And when he spoke, quoting poetry and prose with an intimacy that felt illicit, you could do nothing but sit there, enthralled, burning beneath the weight of his words.

It wasn’t supposed to happen that one night.

But it did.

You sank into the plush cushions of his living room sofa, the scent of aged paper and faint traces of espresso lingering in the air. The space around you was a sanctuary of words, lined wall to wall with books that carried the weight of centuries, their spines cracked and well-loved, whispering stories from every corner of the world.

Your gaze drifted across the towering shelves, fingers itching to trace the gilded titles. Then, one book in particular caught your eye—its cover worn, edges softened from years of handling. Curiosity pulled you to your feet. You stepped forward, the floor creaking beneath you as you reached for the novel, its leather binding cool beneath your fingertips.

Flipping it open, your breath hitched. Nearly every page was marked with notes, the margins filled with hurried scrawls in a familiar, precise hand. Observations, questions, underlined passages—traces of a mind that dissected literature with an almost obsessive devotion.

Of course.

Dr. Hwang had always been relentless about annotating. He preached the importance of engaging with the text and of leaving a mark on the page as proof of understanding. And now, seeing it for yourself, you realized he didn’t just teach this—he lived it.

A strange warmth curled in your chest, a quiet thrill at witnessing something so intimately him.

"Snooping?" His voice cut through the quiet, low and smooth, pulling your attention instantly.

You turned toward him, pulse-quickening as your eyes took him in. His usual reading glasses were absent, allowing the warm glow of his deep brown eyes to shine unfiltered beneath the dim lighting. His black hair, normally neatly combed, had fallen into an effortlessly tousled state, strands curling slightly at his temples. And his shirt—half unbuttoned, revealing a sliver of collarbone and the faintest hint of his chest—was enough to send a rush of heat straight through you.

The sight of him relaxed and undone in the privacy of his home, nearly made you come apart.

You swallowed, grounding yourself by pressing the book closed against your palm. Your eyes flickered to the title before glancing back up at him.

"You have quite the collection, Dr. Hwang—"

"In-ho," he interrupted gently, his gaze holding yours with quiet insistence.

A small smile tugged at your lips. "In-ho," you repeated, the name rolling off your tongue with a newfound intimacy as if speaking it aloud changed something between you.

You placed the book back, walking across the living room to him. God he was beautiful..so strong, yet gentle. You nearly shuttered as his hands curved around your waist pulling you into him.

He sighed as his long fingers caressed the skin of your neck, just over your pulse. "This is shameful."

Your lips parted, breath hitching as his hovered just a hair’s breadth away—so close, yet not close enough. The anticipation was electric, a charged silence stretching between you for a fraction of a second before he closed the distance.

The kiss was deep, slow, devastatingly experienced. He didn’t rush—he knew exactly what he was doing, how to unravel you with the way his lips moved against yours, how to make you sigh into him as his tongue teased yours, coaxing rather than demanding. Every motion, every flick, and stroke was deliberate, leaving you dizzy and clinging to him as if he were the only thing tethering you to reality.

Your friends knew you were seeing someone, but you’d been careful—strategic, even—about the details. You never mentioned who he was, never let slip the little things that might give him away. And, of course, you’d completely omitted the one fact that would send them into a frenzy.

His age.

Forty-five. Nearly twice yours.

Twenty-one and forty-five isn’t that bad… right?

The thought alone made you cackle every time you tried to defend it in your mind. Maybe you should feel conflicted. Maybe you should care about the whispers, the judgment, the moral grayness of it all.

But then his tongue brushed against yours again, expertly, wickedly, pulling a soft whimper from your throat, and just like that—any lingering doubt, any concern for right or wrong—simply ceased to exist.

Another hand found its way to the back of your head, taking a fist full of your hair.

You’re probably wondering how the two of you ended up here.

Let’s just say it might have had something to do with your insufferable class participation—the way you challenged him just enough to be intriguing, how you always had an argument ready, your voice laced with just the right amount of defiance to make him smirk.

Or maybe it was the way you chewed on the ends of your pens, absentmindedly biting down as you listened to him lecture, completely unaware of how his eyes would flicker toward you, his train of thought stalling for just a second too long. You had no idea, at first, that he noticed—the way you stared at him a little too intently, lashes fluttering as if you weren’t hanging onto his every word.

And then there were your visits.

The ones that started out innocently enough—stopping by during office hours, armed with questions about literary theory, with scribbled notes and highlighted passages. But then the conversations started to stretch beyond the curriculum, turning into something softer, something dangerous. You’d linger too long, leaning just a little too close, your laughter filling the dimly lit space of his office.

Flirting was inevitable.

Touching came next.

But never kissing..at least not until tonight.

You remembered the first time the air between you changed.

It had been subtle(kinda, not really)—a shift so delicate(You'd beg to differ) it could have been ignored if not for the way it made your pulse stutter(yeah, right). A moment suspended in time, when his gaze held yours for a second too long, when his hand brushed your thigh beneath his desk his fingers lingering, making heat bloom under your skin and warmth pool between your legs.

He was so close, and you hadn't remembered what the two of you were talking about, but did it really matter?

Once his fingers had skimmed the material of your underwear you blinked, licking your lips. "Is this okay?" he had asked. He wanted permission. And while you didn't give it verbally, you embraced his hand pushing it beneath your lace underwear. Wanting his fingers to dig deep into you.

That was a week ago.  

Tonight, he'd invited you over.

And you'd never been so quick to accept an invite. (yikes)

His lips broke from yours, teeth scraping against your cheek as he sucked at your neck, "always so good for me in class," he practically breathed into you. Your hands grabbed at his neck, pulling him in more...if that was even physically possible.

"Always so stunning for me."

Right..did you forget to mention your dress code? And how it drastically got more..dangerous.

It wasn't like this was breaking any rules. Was it unethical? Hell yeah, it was, but what was college without a little drama? You're only young once right?

Time must have warped...or you somehow teleported to his bedroom, and the time read 3 am.

Hell, you couldn't tell which way was up or down as he dragged you into your fourth orgasm of the night, pulling you from your hands and knees to collide with his chest from behind. His moans filled your ears as he nudged into your neck, arms wrapped around your torso, hands tangling with yours.

You knew you were in trouble as he whimpered your name.

But the best part?

He knew he was in trouble, too.

Because no matter how much restraint he tried to summon, no matter how often he reminded himself of the lines he shouldn’t cross, you had an unshakable grip on him. It was maddening—this pull, this undeniable force that wrapped around him like a vice, refusing to let go.

You were young. Too young for him.

Beautiful, in a way that was effortless, in a way that made it impossible not to look.

And smart—so fucking smart.

It was your intelligence that ruined him the most.

He had noticed you the moment you walked in on syllabus day, slipping into your seat like you belonged there, like you were meant to be seen. There had been something about the way you carried yourself—self-assured, observant, a quiet confidence laced with just enough mischief.

Then you spoke.

And that was it.

Sharp, articulate, never hesitating to challenge an idea or poke holes in an argument. You were fearless in the way you debated, your mind quick, your words calculated. He told himself it was admiration—professional, appropriate. But admiration shouldn’t make his chest tighten when you look at him like that. It shouldn’t make his thoughts wander to places they had no business being.

And yet, from the moment you took that seat, he was doomed.

[poemgyu]

ㅡ stumbling back to you ( 한동민 )

ㅡ PAIRING: ex!taesan x fem!reader

ㅡ SYNOPSIS: ୨ৎ in which you show up at your ex's doorstep drunk

ㅡ GENRE: fluff, college au, getting you back trope

ㅡ WARNINGS: none??? mentions of drinking and alcohol, kisses and cuddling but nothing more than that

ㅡ A/N: this ended up being longer than i expected oopsies!!! anyways hope u guys enjoy this ᡣ𐭩

taesan has just gotten out of the shower, his previously wet hair now dry as he sets the towel down on the bathroom counter. he’s about to go lay in bed when he hears the doorbell ring. and another. and once more.

taesan looks at the digital clock on his nightstand and frowns. 12:30 AM. why would anyone show up here this late? he’s deep in thought when he hears a loud knock, and someone’s voice. a voice he recognizes particularly well. his eyes widen a bit, but then go back to normal. no it couldn’t be. 

he shakes down his suspicions and calmly walks to the door. the person on the other side is still knocking. he sighs before opening the door and the surprise on his face is evident. “y/n?” 

“taesannnnn!!!!” you say, stretching out the end of his name. taesan stares at your face. the face of his ex that he knows all too well, the face of the girl he’d broken up with just three months ago.

it’s obvious to him that you’re drunk. your pink cheeks, the way you just hiccuped, how you keep closing your eyes because you can’t keep them open, and the fact that you’re leaning on the person beside you for support—wait who’s the guy beside you? 

the guy taesan had been eyeing with nothing but sheer hatred finally gets the hint and speaks up, “hey man, y/n wouldn’t tell me where she lives and this is where she told me to take her… sorry about this haha…” taesan looks at him with an unexplainable emotion in his dark eyes. 

“who are you?” he asks although it sounds more like a demand.

“i’m eunseok! we’re in the same club and we had a welcome party today! y/n got a little drunk and i was trying to drop her home but we ended up here…” eunseok says, a bit taken aback by taesan. 

without saying anything, taesan grabs your arm and pulls you towards him, forcing eunseok’s hand to fall back next to his side. “hm?” you look up at him with squinted eyes. 

“thanks for taking care of her, i’ll take it from here,” taesan gives him a stiff smile that eunseok reciprocates, trying not to make the moment even more awkward for himself. taesan pulls you inside his apartment and closes the door behind you. 

once the door shuts you can immediately feel the warmth of his hands on your back, it engulfs your whole body. you smell the familiar scents of his body wash and shampoo and you take in a deep breath. taesan pulls you out of thought as he moves back to look at your face. he’s frowning. 

“what were you thinking?” taesan sighs as he gets a look at what you’re wearing. a black dress that leaves most of your legs bare and a thin leather jacket, which is mainly just for style and does nothing to keep you warm. 

“it’s so late and you’re dressed so lightly, and you let a random guy who sounds like he barely knows you walk you home while you’re drunk! do you realize how dangerous that is? what if something had happened, what if some weirdo did something to you—” he’s cut off by a giggle from you and the expression on his face changes when he sees your face. 

“are you worried dongminie?” you look up at him and his heart softens at the name you call him. you are the only person, aside from his very close friends and family who calls him by his real name. 

he ignores your question and looks away. you slightly stumble without taesan’s grip around your body and his gaze comes back on you as quickly as it left. his hands come around your shoulders and back to support you as he walks you over to the couch. he steps into the kitchen and comes back to hand you a glass of warm water. 

“you usually get sick during this time of year, you shouldn’t be drinking cold water. and especially with that outfit you’ve been in all night.” he says the last sentence while glaring at you. you pout while drinking the water. 

“mean dongminie,” you mumble and you swear you heard taesan let out a quiet laugh. 

“dongminieeee!!!” you whine. taesan looks down at you, “what is it?” he says while moving a strand of hair away from your face. “y/n is tired.” you pout. taesan chuckles at how you can barely keep your eyes open as you talk to him. “alright. i’ll give you some clothes to wear and then you can go to sleep, okay?” his tone is so soft that it’s lulling you to sleep right then and there. 

“don’t wanna. alwready coezy” you say, slurring your words as taesan bites a smile back. “come on, if you sleep in uncomfy clothes you’ll wake up really sore tomorrow.” you’re too tired to fight with him so you just give in, “carry me.” taesan sighs as his hand secure themselves under your thighs and back. he carries you to his bedroom and gently places you down. 

taesan rummages through his closet to find clothes that’ll keep you warm while your arms are wrapped around his waist as you lean all of your body weight on him. once taesan finds something, he turns around to gently pat your back making you look up at him. “go on and change,” he hands you his clothes and walks your wobbly figure to the bathroom. 

as he closes the door he shouts, “don’t fall, alright!” he’s worried because he’s seen you stumble over yourself way too many times tonight. “you’ve always been clumsy while drunk,” he says to himself before he hears you shout, “okie dokie!” 

you step out of the bathroom and are about to trip once more over the fabric of the sweatpants taesan gave you. “dongminie too big,” you put your arms up to show him how the hoodie arm exceeds at least 5 inches over your hands.

taesan can’t help the smile from creeping up his face as he takes your appearance in. you’re wearing a matching grey sweatpant and hoodie set that got too small on taesan since he’d grown out of it. he laughed to himself at how even his smallest clothing looked humongous on you. 

“i’ve missed seeing you in my clothes” he mumbles to himself. “huuuuuh?” you look at him, blinking your eyes with flushed cheeks, due to your intoxicated state and taesan just thinks you looked so cute that he could—he clears his throat. 

“your ears are rwed dongminie” you point out, pointing to his red ears. taesan’s eyes widen as he quickly covers his ears. “y-you should go to sleep, you must be tired,” he point to his nicely made bed. 

you nod and hold your arms up, waiting to be carried like a baby. taesan throws his head back and closes his eyes as he lets out a soft laugh, amused by your antics. 

in a swift motion he pulls you up to wrap your legs around his waist and you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck. your face is buried into his neck and taesan can feel your breath on him. his grip on you is firm as he walks you over to his bed and gently lays you down.

he makes sure to pull the blanket all the way up until it reaches your chin and once again moves your hair away from your face. he looks at you with so much tenderness as his gaze lingers for a couple more moments, as if he’s trying to memorize your face like he’s never going to see you again.

“goodnight,” he finally says as he turns off the lamp on his nightstand and stands up to walk away when he feels a tug on his sleeve. he turns around to be met by your eyes which he can’t refuse, “stay please,” you mumble and taesan can’t say no to you. how could he when you look so precious. 

he slowly nods as he crawls into the other side of the bed, pulling the blanket on him as he lays there stiffly. you turn to face him and he feels obliged to do the same. he looks so pretty that your drunken self can’t help but blurt out, “why’d you leave me dongminie. you’re a bad dongminie.” taesan’s eyes soften at your small voice and the hurt look on your face.  

“i’m sorry,” he lets out a soft sigh, “it’s my fault.” “what do you mean? tell me,” you ask taesan, wondering what he means. the way taesan broke up with you was so abrupt. there had been no fights, no arguing, no nothing prior to the breakup. he had met up with you at the park and told you that you guys couldn’t be together anymore. you were so shocked because you guys were so happy. he was your most favorite person and without him nothing was the same. 

you look back at taesan, it’s like he’s thinking carefully on if it’s okay for him to tell you. “it’s just that saemi, she—she was planning on framing you for plagiarism that she did. it would expel you out of university and she even had all the evidence and everything and wanted to ruin your whole life if I didn’t break up with you and i—i was just so scared. i didn’t want you to be ruined because of me so i—i had to,” he raked a hand through his raven hair and you could hear his voice shaking. 

you remember saemi. back in highschool she had the biggest crush on taesan and everyone knew. so when you and taesan started dating you’d became her biggest enemy. she would play childish pranks on you like tripping you and slowly it got worse. she once locked you inside the janior’s closet for 3 hours and when taesan found you he was so furious that he got saemi suspended from school. you thought you’d never see her again after highschool but you never expected her to come back into your life and threaten your boyfriend.

“i’ve missed you like crazy. it was so hard for me to try to erase you from my life and i still can’t do it. every time i saw you walking with a guy my stomach would feel like it’s being ripped out but i couldn’t do anything about it.” there had been so many nights that kept taesan awake. he’d worry about if you were doing okay, if you were safe, if you had moved on and he would feel so empty. as you watched taesan you could tell how hard it’s been for him. 

“you probably won’t remember this but i love you and i always will love you, even though i can’t be with you," he looked into your eyes with nothing but sincerity. you suddenly shifted your body close to him and the alcohol in your system made you spontaneously bold. you leaned even closer and caught his soft lips in yours. it was only for a moment but as you pulled away you could see the shock on taesan’s face even through the darkness of the room. 

you sleepily giggle as you hold his hand underneath the blanket, “i’ll make sure i remember this at least,” you say, the last part becoming almost incoherent as you’re on the brink of falling asleep. taesan has always had this effect on you which instantly relaxes you.

your eyes are closed as you feel taesan bring you impossibly closer to him, as if you’ll disappear in an instant. your face is buried in his chest and the soft scent of his shampoo is intoxicating the air around you, even more than the soju you drank earlier. the last thing you feel before going off into dreamland is the softness of taesan’s lips on your head, pressing a kiss and mumbling a small “sleep well y/n.”

ㅡ ౨ৎ ㅡ

as soon as you open your eyes, you’re met with the view of a white t-shirt, likely someone’s chest as you’re snuggled in it. you look up to see who the owner is and your eyes land on taesan’s peaceful sleeping face. your heart softens and the memories of last night come flooding back. you smile to yourself before taking in taesan’s face. you haven’t had a good look of it in what feels like forever. 

his lashes are long, you notice, not one sign of discomfort on his face as he sleeps soundly. his lips are slightly parted and the sound of his breathing fills the room. your gaze drops to his lips once again and you remember how you briefly kissed him last night. you gasp at your boldness, maybe a little too loud because taesan’s eyebrows furrow and he begins to shuffle. he softly groans before his eyes sleepily, open and they meet yours instantly. 

“morning, baby,” he says lazily as his hands snake around your waist to pull you closer and his head buries in your neck. he did it so naturally that even he realizes and suddenly moves away and sits up. he looks a bit surprised but his expression changes and he looks shy. 

“i swear i didn’t kidnap you!” he abruptly says and you have to force a giggle back as you sit up as well. “you probably don’t remember but you came here last night and you were drunk and—” “i remember,” you cut him off and his expression goes back to being surprised. 

“you—you remember? everything?” “everything.” you assure him. he looks taken aback like he doesn’t know what to say. he shyly looks around the room figuring out his words, “so will you… take me back?”  

taesan is scared of what you’ll say and it’s visible on his face. you both are looking into each other’s eyes and he looks so pretty right now that you could cry. you’ve so badly missed the morning face of his that you're looking at, his nagging habits, his smile, everything about him. 

“of course i will, i’ve missed you so much dongminie,” you giggle sheepishly and taesan’s expression finally calms. “thank—thank god, i was scared you wouldn’t want me,” taesan finally exhales out the breath he’s been holding in. 

“but you’ll have to promise me something,” taesan looks at you expectantly. “if there’s ever a problem we’ll tell each other and work through it together.” taesan aggressively nods at your words, “i’ve learnt my lesson.” 

you laugh, “okay!” taesan once again looks at you expectantly while fiddling with his fingers. “so… does that mean i’m your boyfriend now?” you let out a hearty laugh again and taesan swears his heart does backflips.

 “yes taesan you’re my boyfriend and i’m your girlfriend,” you say smiling and taesan can’t control himself as his hands reach out to cup your face and his lips meet yours. 

he kisses you with so much softness and love that you can feel it emitting out of him. he savors you like it’s the first time he’s kissing you, his lips moving tenderly against yours. you feel him smile against your lips and that’s when you realize that he’d been longing for you as much as you had been longing for him.

a/n: if you enjoyed please reblog ! thanks so much ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა

[aquarius-johnny]

The Sweetest Hello | Jeong Jaehyun

genre: fluff, smut | word count: 5.1k | deadly sins series | master list navi warnings: nonidol!jaehyun, tatted!reader, afab!reader, pet names (baby, my girl), pornographic ideas, unestablished relationship (but there’s a lot of love between the two), unprotected sex, oral (f! and m! receiving), praising, squirting, p in v, pull out method, fluffy, smutty summary: after meeting him over a year ago on a dating app, you finally see him in person. | deadly sin: lust a/n: part two of promise? promise. cr. border by @dollywons, seven deadly sins prompts by @joelsmochi

⌞ pinterest board ⌝ ≫ concept photos

“Are you sure you still want me to come?” You ask Jaehyun as you zip up your suitcase for your trip. “Let me know if you’re having second thoughts.”

Jaehyun pauses the video game he’s playing, giving you his undivided attention. He cocks his head to the left, trying to read your expression. “Do you still want to come?” He questions, grabbing the phone into his hand, pacing his apartment before setting his phone on his kitchen counter. He leans forward onto his marbled counter top, waiting for your response. 

Grabbing your phone, you fall into your mattress before letting out a sigh. Holding your phone at arm's length, you begin to feel a nervous bubble form in the pit of your stomach. “Yeah, I still want to but I’m a little nervous,” you let out a disappointed sigh. “Like what if you suddenly realize that you don’t like me anymore?” You force a playful tone, but you sense that Jaehyun reads right through it. 

“Is that what you’re really scared of?” Jaehyun reaches above his phone, grabbing a glass in his upper cupboards before filling it up with water. 

You turn to your side, watching Jaehyun’s actions. “Yeah, a little.” You let out. “I know it sounds dumb, but like what if -“ you sit up from your position, still holding your phone out at arm’s length. “What if we fuck and then you realize your imagination was so much better?” You let out a small giggle, clearly pulling his leg with that line. 

Jaehyun shakes his head with a small smile dancing on his lips. “I can assure you,” he takes a sip of his drink. “That will not happen.” He makes his way back to his couch, placing his phone on the coffee table in front of him. His elbows rest on his knees, thinking about what to say next. “As for your real concern,” he clears his throat. “We’ve been talking to each other for over a year. If I didn’t like you as much as I do, then I wouldn’t want you anywhere near me. I honestly think you don’t have to worry about me not liking you, I think I have to worry about you not liking me.” 

You playfully roll your eyes, giving him a small pout because you know that he's right. He’s mentioned wanting to see you, as early as six months into first meeting you. You’ve shared things that would probably make him leave you in the dust, but he didn’t. Deep in your heart, you knew Jaehyun is also a good friend — a friend who just so happens to also be sexually attracted to you. 

“Don’t worry your pretty little head too much,” he lets out, pulling you away from your deep thoughts. “I have a strong feeling that my crush on you will probably deepen after seeing you in person.” 

“You have a crush on me?” You playfully and dramatically gasp before sticking your tongue out to tease the man through your phone screen. He’s told you many, many times before of this brewing crush he has on you and every single time he does, you act surprise as if it’s your first time hearing it. 

An amused smile appears on his face as he shakes his head. “You play too much,” he shyly retorts before taking another sip of his water. “Still having second thoughts about coming?” 

You give him a relaxed smile. “No second thoughts. I think I’ll still be nervous, but more of an excited nervous.” You pause, looking at Jaehyun. “Thank you for calming my anxiety.”

“Thank you for keeping your promise,” he cheekily grins before returning to his video game.

You scan the crowd to find the man you’ve spent your entire flight thinking about. Every nerve in your body works overtime, silently cursing yourself for drinking a caffeinated drink during your flight. 

A familiar tone rings and you frantically search your purse for your phone. Your favorite person’s picture pops up on your screen, causing you to smile. 

“Hey,” you let out, a lot shakier than intended, but you blame the caffeine that has you jittery.

“Hey, I think I see you. You’re wearing a white top, right?” You look down at your shirt, double checking that his description is correct. 

“Yeah, where are you?” Your eyes search the busy airport. 

“On your left.”

You turn to your left and find a man smiling as he makes his way toward you, his dimpled smile something you’ve seen almost every night for over a year. Your heart swells with excitement and your stomach fills with nervous butterflies. He slowly brings his phone down from his ear before engulfing you in a warm hug. His hand pets the back of your head and you bury your cheek into his chest. Jaehyun’s chin rests on top of your head, his position lingering longer than expected.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he mumbles before giving the top of your head a soft kiss, then pulling back and looking down at you. “You’re a lot smaller than I imagined.” 

You playfully hit his chest, your cheesy smile never leaving your lips. “I’m glad I’m finally here, it’s good to see you.” You take another opportunity to give him a hug, wrapping your arms around his waist. All he does is let out a chuckle, squeezing your body into his, not wanting to let you go. 

You pull back, smiling up at him, almost forgetting how to speak. 

“Here, let me help you.” Before you could object, he grabs the handle of your suitcase with one hand and your fingers in his other hand. Your hand looks even daintier in comparison to his, making you feel smaller than you actually are. He pulls you towards the exit and you happily trail behind him. An older man helps put your suitcases in the trunk of what looks like a taxi while Jaehyun opens the car door for you, gesturing you to step inside before he slides in right next to you. He lets the driver know where he’s headed and soon enough, you’re on the road to his place. 

You snake your arm under his bicep, holding on to it during the car ride while laying your head on his broad shoulder. 

“How was the flight here?” He asks, resting his hand on your knee, circling your skin with his thumb. While you would always choose a more comfortable outfit on long flights like the one you endured, you wanted to look presentable for Jaehyun — hence the short skirt you opted for instead of comfortable leggings you would’ve worn otherwise. 

“Hm, it was nice,” you smile up at him. “It was my first time in first class. The legroom is to die for.” 

“That’s good,” he chuckles. “I’m glad you got to experience it. I remember you saying you’ve never been, so I thought it would be a nice experience for you.” He moves the arm you’re holding onto behind your back, leaning into the leather seat of the car. His hand squeezes the side of your hip before he guides your body to lean into his side again. 

“Thank you for that,” you let out. “You really didn’t have to consider that you paid for everything else on this trip.” 

Jaehyun lets out a tiny hum, bringing his lips to your forehead. “Anything for my girl,” he mutters before placing a soft kiss against your skin. Heat rushes to your cheeks and you feel yourself melt under his touch.

The car comes to a stop and the driver steps out, indicating you’ve arrived at your destination. Jaehyun opens the door, steps out and you follow behind him, your hand not letting go of his. The driver pulls your suitcases out of the trunk of the car and you both thank him before heading into the building that leads to the apartment you’ve only seen through the phone screen. 

Upon entering his apartment, you both take your shoes off and you find yourself idly grabbing Jaehyun’s hand as your eyes wander through his place. You didn’t want to let him go, already feeling a slight sting in your heart thinking about the pain you’ll feel leaving him to go back home. 

“Can I get a tour?” You ask, turning to Jaehyun who is already looking at you. He flashes an endearing smile.

“Yes, but first,“ he pauses, bringing his hand to your jaw. “I've been waiting far too long to finally do this.” He tilts your chin up, ever so slightly, to look up at him. His lips press against yours — so soft, so intimate, and everything you wanted. You let go of his hand, opting to sling your arms over his shoulders and his hand finding their way to your hips. He pulls you closer into him as your lips move in sync with his, your hands playing with the hairs on the base of his nape. He scoops you up, interlocking his fingers together under you, as each of your knees place themselves on either side of his waist. Your lips never leave his and he begins moving around his apartment. 

“Kitchen,” he says between kisses. “Living room,” he lets out again as you peek at his furniture through your lashes before giving him your undivided attention once more. He pushes the bathroom door open with his foot, placing you on the bathroom counter before pulling away from your lips. 

A dizzy feeling overwhelms you; his presence so intoxicating. The fact you’re physically feeling him after so long send you into euphoria. 

“Bathroom?” You breathe out, taking a look around the room before your eyes falling back on the man in front of you. 

He hums, placing a soft kiss on your neck while his hands squeeze your hips. His lips trail kisses against your neck, leading up to your jaw, before hovering over your lips. You lean forward to kiss him only for him to playfully pull back, teasing you. You whimper leaves your lips, impatient with the game he’s playing.

“Go ahead and shower, we have dinner reservations in two hours and I know how you take pride in taking your time whenever you get ready.” He playfully pokes your nose before placing a soft kiss on the tip of it, openly sharing in the past how it’s one of his favorite features on you. 

“But what about your bedroom?” You ask before he walks toward the door, causing you to hop off the counter.

“You can see it after your shower. I’ll bring your things there. Want me to start putting things away?” He asks, leaning his left shoulder against the door frame, slightly crossing his ankle over the other.

“You just want to see what I brought, don’t you?” You sassily remark, playfully scrunching your brows together. 

Jaehyun softly giggles to himself before closing the gap between the two of you. He places another soft kiss against your forehead, before leaving you alone in the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

In defeat, you strip off the clothes you’re wearing and throw it into the laundry basket behind the door. You’re completely naked, feeling utterly vulnerable knowing that the man you’ve been talking to for over a year is in the room next to you rummaging through your belongings. Setting the shower’s temperature to your liking, you step in, enjoying the water pressure against your skin. The heat of the shower fills the room and fogs the shower doors and the mirrors. You hear the bathroom door open slightly before quickly closing again. You peek out of the shower to see that Jaehyun left a towel for you on the bathroom counter. 

After your shower, you tightly wrap the white towel around your body and step out of the room. You walk over to the bedroom, slightly opening the door to find Jaehyun’s tall figure refolding your shirts and creating a pile of it on his bed. You take a look around his room, taking note of how minimal it is — no personal photos or art on his walls. 

“I set up your makeup bag on my desk,” he says, pointing in the direction of where his desk is — the same place where he booked your flight right after having phone sex with you. “You’re sweet, thank you,” you smile, giving his arm a little squeeze as you make your way to the table. 

You do your hair and makeup all while Jaehyun puts your things away before he decides to get ready himself. “Oh, by the way,” he lets out as he throws his towel over his shoulder. “I think you should wear that dress tonight.” He points to the short red dress laying on his bed and you turn to look at it, smiling to yourself — as you packed that dress, knowing Jaehyun would love it. 

“Okay,” you smile. “I trust you.”

Jaehyun lovingly pets the back of your head before heading out of the room and into the bathroom. You both finish up getting ready and head out for the night.

“Dinner was great,” you smile as you watch Jaehyun push his key into the lock of his front door. His jacket looks huge on you, but you didn’t mind and neither did he. In fact, he adores the way you look in his clothes, mentally noting to sneak some of his clothes into your luggage before you leave. 

“I’m glad you liked it.” He pushes the door open, letting you in first before he trails behind you. 

You begin to take off your heels, using the wall to help you balance as you lift a leg, letting out soft 'dammit' when you nearly fall over. Jaehyun places a hand on your lower back, helping you keep your balance. As soon as you throw your heels to the side, the height difference between the two of you is fairly significant. 

“So, how’re you feeling?” Jaehyun asks, helping you take off his jacket. “Still nervous around me?”

You bite down on your bottom lip, shyly avoiding eye contact. Jaehyun tries to meet your eyes, smiling from ear to ear. While dinner was amazing, you have to admit he did make you nervous; something so foreign compared to other partners you had previously. Every time he touches you, even a touch as innocent as a hand hold or a graze of a finger, your heart flutters in excitement. 

“There’s something about you that always makes me nervous, but not like I’m scared, kind of nervous,” you pause, your eyes flickering between his eyes. “More like butterflies in my tummy, kind of nervous.”

“You know,” he lets out, his hands sliding up your thighs before stopping right below your ass. “There’s something about your honesty that drives me crazy.” 

His hands push up into you, causing you to yelp in surprise, followed by a loud squeal and a giggle. His hands move up your dress, pulling it over your head and throwing it near the front door. In nothing but your matching undergarments, Jaehyun throws you over his shoulder in one swift move and carries you into the bedroom, tossing you onto his soft mattress. 

He hovers over your body, his thigh placed between your knees. Pushing your baby hairs away from your forehead, he places tender kisses against your skin, trailing down to your neck. “Is it okay if we-“ he breathes against your collarbone. 

“Mhm,” you reassure, finishing his sentence. Tugging on his shirt, you urge him to take it off. His hot breath against your skin causes this visceral response to move your hips against his thigh, the fabric of his pants roughly pressing against your clothed core. Your perfectly manicured nails run up and down through the back of his head as he presses his lips against yours. Your pretty lipstick is messily smearing against your lips and his at the same time, but neither of you care.

Pulling his shirt over his head, he tosses it onto his bedroom floor. His thumb runs against your bottom lip, slightly tugging on it to see your inner lip tattoo in person. The typewriter font peaks through as he gently pulls your lip down, exposing the word 'kiss.' Smirking at the sight, he does exactly that. His hand cups your jaw before hungrily attacking your lips. 

“I can’t believe you’re actually here,” he breathes. He sucks on the base of your neck, occasionally biting down on your skin, sending waves of excitement through your body. “I can finally touch you, kiss you, fuck you.” 

You smile at his words. Your hand makes its way to the waistband of his pants, slithering your hand into it, squeezing his semi hard cock in your hand. “Does that feel good?” You ask when his forehead presses against your collarbone and a satisfied sigh leaves his lips. 

“You have no idea,” he groans, roughly pulling down your bra. You hear the strap around your shoulders snap. 

“Jaehyun!” You squealed. 

He smiles at your reaction, licking his lips at the sight of your breasts spilling out of the cups holding them together. “I’ll take you to buy another one,” he quietly lets out before he begins to nip the skin around your chest, licking and sucking it greedily. “I promise.”

You roll your eyes at him, squeezing his shaft harder before stroking it over his underwear. 

His lips trails wet kisses down your chest and abdomen before stopping at the waistband of your cute laced underwear. A mischievous smirk lifts in the corner of Jaehyun’s mouth before you hear your fabric rip, exposing your aroused heat although the waistband stays intact. 

“Oops,” Jaehyun chuckles, insincerity dripping from his words. “I guess we need to buy a new set altogether, huh?”

You prop yourself with your elbows, narrowing your eyes at the man between your thighs. “You’re a menace,” you grin.

“Can I?” He whispers, lips centimeters away from your core. “I’ve been dying to taste you.” His eyes widen innocently, silently begging for your approval. 

You nod before throwing your head back from the pleasure. The tip of his tongue laps over your clit, moving down to your hole, before moving back up and repeating the process. His tongue so steady and smooth, a string of profanities escape your lips. There’s something about seeing Jaehyun’s face buried between your thighs after so many nights of dreaming of it is pure ecstasy. He moves slowly, taking his time and enjoying the taste you have to offer. His eyes peek through his lashes, watching you as you watch him — your lips part, letting out quiet moans as he laps over your nub over and over again. He spits a pool of saliva onto your clit, using his fingers to spread it against your folds, spreading them apart before sucking on your clit. Your moans grow louder and louder while your body jerks under him, almost trying to squirm away from his mouth only for his arms to pin your waist against the mattress. Your fingers messily tug on his hair, causing him to groan against your soaking heat. 

“Jaehyun,” you moan. “Keep going, I’m so close.” 

Jaehyun hums against you and he does as you ask; sucking on your clit in a rhythmic pattern while enjoying your fingers as they tug on his messy hair. His fingers digging into your thighs in an attempt to keep you close to him. 

The sight of him causes your jaw to fall open from the pleasure he’s giving you. Jaehyun’s eyes darken, his sole purpose is to make you feel good. 

“Fuck,” you gasp. “I’m coming!” You cry, throwing your head back and allowing your body to fall on your back as Jaehyun slows his movements after using his tongue to catch your high. Jaehyun gives you a soothing kiss against your inner thighs, before using the back of his hand to wipe your arousal from his lips. 

Feverishly grabbing him by the back of his neck, you pull Jaehyun down to your lips, using your other hand to cup his jaw as you kiss him. Your mind is hazy and your body moves on autopilot as your lips move with Jaehyun’s lips. Slightly pulling away, you feel him smile against your cheek. 

“I wanna taste you,” you blush. Your heart thumps against your chest at the thought of finally seeing his length in person.

Jaehyun quickly nods before standing and pulling down the fabric around his waist. You sink to your knees in front of him, petting his shaft through his underwear. 

“Can I film you?” Jaehyun sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. “I just-“ he stammers. “I wanna make sure I can look back on it when I miss you.”

“Of course,” you smile as he fumbles to grab his phone. You continue to stroke his length over his underwear until the flash of his phone camera appears.

You pull down the waistband of his underwear down to his ankles, his erection springing up excitedly. It's definitely a lot lengthier in person and you’ll be the first to admit that the custom dildo you have of him doesn’t compare to the real thing.

You kitten lick his leaking tip. Your mouth wrapping around his head before sinking him into your mouth, letting it hit the back of your throat. He lets out a low groan, entangling his knuckles with your hair. The gagging noises you’re making is enough to send Jaehyun over the edge. Pulling your lips back, you glide them up and down his shaft before pumping his veiny cock with your hands. 

“Just like that,” he coos. “You’re so good at this.”

You smile against his shaft before sticking your tongue out and slapping his heavy length against it. 

“Shit,” he whimpers loudly before throwing his head back in pleasure. He grabs the base of his cock to mimic your actions, slapping his tip against your tongue before sliding himself down your throat. “Look at me, baby.” He orders and you do, eyes locked directly at the camera lens as you move your head back and forth. His hand guides your head with the movements, pushing your head against the base of his shaft and causing tears to prickle out of the outer corner of your eyes. You could feel your mascara run down your face and you were sure your eyeliner is a complete mess with how deep he’s shoving his cock down your throat. 

“God, you’re so fucking pretty.” He wipes under your eyes, smearing your mascara and eye liner even more. “You looked all fucked out and we haven’t even started yet.” You see a smirk tug on the corner of his lip, clearly enjoying the view.

His hand grabs the roots of your hair, holding you in place before thrusting his hips into you. Slow and steady at first before he picks up the pace, fucking your mouth until the sounds of you chocking on his cock fills the room. 

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He asks, his words so lustful, you feel sheer embarrassment as you nod your head. “Use your words, baby. Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Y-yes, please,” you attempt to answer as his cock is stuffed in your mouth, only for your words to be muffled against him. 

“That’s my girl,” he smiles before putting his phone down for a second. “C’mere.” 

Pulling himself out of your mouth, he helps you up from the floor before bringing your lips to his. He turns you, your bare back pressed against his warm chest. His hands grip your upper arms and he guides you back on the mattress. You’re pushed on all fours and he traces your lower back tattoo with his thumb. Lifting your hips to align your needy hole with his tip, you watch him through the mirror that's strategically placed parallel to his bed. He holds his phone in his hand, pointing it towards your entrance. 

“I’ve been thinking about this more than I should,” he shares, slowly sinking himself into you.

Your fingers grab the sheets under you, groaning at the stretch as your pretty hole adjusts to Jaehyun’s size. After gently pumping into you, the sting is replaced with pleasure and Jaehyun bottoms out inside of you, your selfish cunt swallowing him. 

“Harder,” you mutter as you use your hands to hold your body up. You lift your head, watching him fuck you from behind through his full length mirror. His hand is placed on your lower back, helping you arch it as he thrusts into you. He does as you ask, penetrating you slow and hard while snaking his hand against your throat and pulling you to his chest. 

“Look how pretty you are,” he whispers in your ear, his hold on your jaw forces you to look at yourself in the mirror. Your nails digging into his forearm. “Look at my pretty girl, god, you take me so well. I could do this all night.” 

“Jaehyun,” you whimper. “Feels too good.” 

Jaehyun throws his phone to the side after he stops his recording, already deciding he’s gotten enough footage for the night. Gathering your hair behind your shoulders, he buries his face into your neck as both arms hold you up to his chest. You’re trapped in his arms and all you could feel is his thrusts speeding up — the noise of his pelvis slapping your skin fills the room. Your jaw falls open and your eyes roll back as you feel his tip grazing against your sensitive spot inside of you — something you didn’t know you had. 

You fall onto your stomach, stars appearing in your line of vision as your body is flipped over, placing you on your back. Your thighs are spread apart while Jaehyun realigns himself to your hole, again. You move your hips upwards, helping him fill you up. Tiny and soft cries fill his room as he pulls your hips closer to him before brutally fucking you, your walls clenching around his hard length. 

As he hovers over you, he holds himself up with a hand on either side of your face. Beads of sweat form on Jaehyun’s forehead, his brows furrowing as he tries his best not to release too quickly. The sight of you moving up and down as he penetrates into you makes his cock harder than it already is. You pull him down to your lips, kissing him as he fucks you, moaning and groaning into his mouth letting him know exactly who is making you feel good. Your tongue rolls over his before tugging on his bottom lip.

Jaehyun lets out a frustrated grunt before he pushes your knees to your chest, practically folding your body in half and making you smaller under him than you already are. 

“You feel too good,” Jaehyun laughs, realigning himself before shoving his hard cock into you. He begins to pull out before quickly and roughly sinking himself into you over and over again.

“Please,” you beg. “Your cock feels so good inside of me.”

Jaehyun smiles down at you, his dimples prominent and causing your heart to swell with a dangerous mixture of love and lust. He slams his hips into you, causing you to yelp in surprise. His tip kisses your sweet spot inside of you, inching you closer and closer to your orgasm. His movements don’t let up and you begin to feel an urge that’s so unfamiliar to you, you weren’t sure what's happening but you know it feels good. 

“D-don’t stop!” You cry out, practically begging him. 

Jaehyun’s dick accidentally slips out of your slippery cunt and liquid begins to squirt out of you, soaking the sheets under you and spraying onto Jaehyun’s pelvis. Your body trembles after your release and Jaehyun’s eyes widen in disbelief.

“D-did you just -” He smiles, amazed. 

You cover your face with your hands, embarrassed by your actions. Jaehyun lovingly moves your hands from your face before interlocking your fingers with his. 

“You’re okay,” he coos, fluttering your cheeks with sweet kisses.

You nod your head, helping him align his tip with your sensitive hole before interlocking your fingers with his once again. His movements are sensual and deep, genuinely making love with you.  

“I’m gonna cum,” he breathes. Right before his release, he pulls his long length out of you and strokes himself over your stomach. Hot, thick, white ropes paint over your soft skin. 

Jaehyun falls onto his back next to you. You scoop a bit of his release onto your finger before placing your finger into your mouth, tasting him. 

“Wait, hold on,” he lets out quickly searching for his phone. Once he finds it, he stands above you, taking pictures of your naked body with nothing but his release covering you. You repeat what you did, tasting him again as Jaehyun takes photos of you. “I know I say this a lot, but damn, you’re so hot.” He lets out before grabbing tissue off his desk and wiping his release off you. “Are you okay?” He asks, lying next to you, pulling you into him.

You throw a leg over his bare thigh, cuddling into his chest. Jaehyun’s thumb rubs the skin of your shoulder blade, comforting you after being a lot rougher than he expected. “I’m fine,” you sigh, pleased with yourself. “I’m sorry I made a mess. That was my first time squirting, I didn’t know I could do that.”

Jaehyun smiles before kissing your forehead. “Please don’t apologize. It’s was unexpected but it was really -“

“Hot?”

Jaehyun playfully rolls his eyes at you. ��Yes, hot. Very, very hot. I hope I can make you do it again.” 

You let out a small chuckle before silence falls between the two of you. Jaehyun’s fingers pet your hair, clearly trying to steady his heart rate. 

“Baby?” Jaehyun whispers, pressing his cheek against the top of your head. 

You hum, before closing your eyes, focusing on his heartbeat. 

“I love you,” he coos, clearly nervous. “I’m glad you’re here.”

You lift your head in shock. “What did you say?” Your brows furrow, wanting to make sure your ears aren’t playing tricks on you.

Jaehyun sits up, his lips inches away from yours. “I said I’m glad you’re here.”

“No, no,” you laugh. “Before that.”

“Hm? I called you baby.”

“Jaehyun!” You whine.

Jaehyun lays back down, pulling you back onto his chest. His chest moves up and down and he stifles his laughter.

You sit up. “Say it again,” you poke his ribs, causing him to jerk to the side. “Say it again, please.”

Jaehyun sits up next to you, eyes locked onto yours. “I.” He kisses your left cheek. “Love.” He kisses your right cheek. “You.” He plants a tender kiss on your lips. He lays on his back again, cheekily smiling up at you. 

You smile at his words before laying your head back on his bare chest. “I love you, too.”

[cloudgremlin-creations]

Me: I already have a tmnt au that needs attention and I also need to figure out how to, ya know, survive so I have no more brain spoons for aus! My brain: But consider…. More turtles :3

ID in alt text

Tattarrattat is the longest palindrome in the English language, it’s an onomatopoeia of someone knocking on a door. It’s also stupidly difficult to write lmao. In this AU, Michael is an anthropomorphic turtle trying to survive and enjoy life in a human-only (plus one turtle) NYC, helped along the way by his two human friends April and Casey. Until, one day, Michael is pulled into a perplexing world of fae, yōkai, and other mystical beings- including the assistant of the guy who pulled Michael there (rude), who claims that both it and her are homunculi made by that guy! Seriously, who does this weirdo think it is? If the assistant weirdo wants Michael to take it seriously, it’s gonna have to help him 1. Escape out of this creepy lab, 2. Find a way back to the human world, and 3. Search for what happened to the other two supposed homunculi.

Close ups:

ID in alt text is the same as first image in this post be warned (idk if that is annoying for the screen reader peeps pls lemmi know if there’s a better way to do repeating images like this!)

Also impeccable has no right being spelled like that.

[kamitv]

Getting a call while Suguru’s balls deep inside you sounds so interesting, lowkey.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Your fiancé would coo into your ear, cock dipping in and out of your sopping cunt languidly as his hot breath hit the crown of your ear.

It would all be so intimate. The way Geto has you beneath him, holding your shaky legs open for himself as his heavy balls smacked against you every time he thrusted his fat cock into you. His hips were moving slow but his dick was splitting you open.

"Sugu," You'd gasp, nails scratching at his toned back as you panted out a heavy breath of air, "Fuck-, mmh..."

"Can't get enough of this pussy, mmgh. Listen t'her talk t'me," He whispers to you, the messy slick of your cunt wetting up his shaft as he drew his hips back hitting both of your ears, "Y’like that, baby? Like bein’ stuffed like this, hm?” Geto questions.

Though, his words weren’t directed to you.

He often did that during sex— talked to your cunt, referring to it as she and baby just like how he talks to you. And it gets even worse whenever he’s giving you head.

Currently though, as Geto talks you, and your pussy, through his steady strokes, you moan his name up until your phone begins to ring.

The sound of your loud ass ring tone makes your lover groan, leaning up away from you just to catch sight of who the hell was calling you. To his surprise, none other than his best friend’s contact name was beaming across your phone screen.

“Hahh,” Geto cracks a half smile, “The fuck is Satoru callin’ you for?” He asks, sounding annoyed despite the amusement etched onto his features.

The curve of his cock sinks deeper into you as he reaches for your cell phone and you scratch at his chest, too fucked out to render what the hell he was talking about. All you wanted was his body pressed up against yours again.

“S-Suguu, shit-, ignore it, please.” You huff out demandingly, earning nothing more than a mere glance from your fiancé as he peers down at you from the corner of his eye.

Swiping your phone up, “Why’s he calling?”

“I don’t know,” You pout, extending a hand to his neck and trying to pull him back down to you. Your attempt almost works as Geto is tugged a bit closer to you, his hips still and his eyes back on your phone buzzing in his palm.

Cocking his head to the side, he smirks, “Find out then,” Suguru says to you.

You’re confused for only a second before an explanation is given through him answering the call and pressing it to your ear. Your eyes go wide as you realize he wants you to talk to Satoru while he’s balls deep inside you.

Gulping, “Sugu-“

“Hello?” You get cut off by the connection of the phone call and the sound of Gojo’s voice in your ear.

Your fiancé smiles down at you and whispers, “Go on, talk to him, baby. Promise I won’t move,” He hums all too sweetly.

It was definitely suspicious coming from him. You’ve been down the road more times than you can count— Geto promising not to fuck you while you talk to someone but ultimately doing so anyway.

With pleading eyes, you nod, hoping he’ll keep his promise this time around. “Hi Satoru,” You say into the phone, watching your fiancé mock you through his facial expressions.

“Heyyy, how are youuu?” Gojo purrs over the phone, his tone letting you know he definitely called to ask you for something.

You take a deep breath, “M’fine, can I ask why you called?”

“Straight to the point I see,” Gojo says with that smug voice of his.

Rolling your eyes, you release a sigh, "Yeah, I guess so. I'm kinda busy right now so uh, make it quick." Your tone was a lot more put together than you expected of yourself, especially with Geto's thick inches stuffed into the hilt of your cunt.

And for a while he doesn't move, he just sit there, marinating in the warmth of your cunt and listening in on your conversation.

“Well, then," Gojo starts, his voice suddenly enthusiastic, "Remember when I came over last week?"

Geto starts to lean up again and you send him skeptical eyes, to which he flashes another innocent smile at you. Then you sigh, "Yes, why?"

"Did I uh, leave my jacket there?" The male over the phone asks.

You blink, "You could've texted me this question y'know," The end of your sentence comes off all too breathy as a thumb suddenly swats over your clit, your free hand moving down to Geto's finger and trying to swat him away.

He just smirks at you though and presses the pad of his thumb into you, watching the way your back arches a bit and your lips part.

"Yes, I could've texted you this questions buuuut, you always ignore me," Gojo argues.

You bite your lip for a moment as Geto draws small circles around your clit-- you knew he was going to do this and yet you still weren't prepared for it. "I do not," You breathe out.

On the other side of the phone, Gojo tilts his head and his borws furrow, "You alright over there? Y'sound out of breath."

"M'fine, Satoru. And n-no, I haven't seen your jacket," You stammer as Geto starts drawing his hips back his eyes locked down on your cunt and how lewdly it's spread open for his cock, smirking before he spits down on it.

"Right... Well can you ask Suguru then?" Gojo continues, "I really need it for-"

"Can I just call you back?" You say all in one breath, trying your best to keep your composure as Geto eases himself back into you, fucking you so very slowly that it's both tortuous and stimulating at the same time.

The full stretch of Geto's thick girth way driving you insane, the way he'd ease back and then push forward, thumbing your clit simultaneously as his salvia smeared and mixed with the mess you've already made of him from earlier.

"Please?" You suddenly whine, not sure if it was really directed toward Gojo or Geto as you said it.

That's when Gojo pauses, his hears practically perking up at the tone of your voice, "Hey... No need to beg me to get off the phone, y'know," He hums, his voice suddenly... lower? "I would've hung up without the please but I dunno, you sound busier than I expected."

Your brows furrow at his sudden resistance toward ending the call, "Meaning?" You question, eyes focused on your fiance's face which was twisted up and he groaned quietly due to the sudden squeeze of your cunt.

There's a slight scoff over the phone, "Oh nothing, just uh-, well, am I interrupting something?"

Your lashes bat in disbelief of Gojo and Geto's losing his mind at how much your pussy's throbbing around his cock. Was that his doing or his best friend's doing? What exactly was Satoru saying to you over the phone and why were you squirming so much?

Geto tears his eyes away from where the two of you are connected and he looks at your face, spotting that you're basically just as confused as he is. Tipping his head to the side, he locks eyes with you and decides that that's the perfect time to thrust every inch of himself back into you.

The way your jaw drops, a moan pouring out so clearly and obscenely-- it makes Geto smile, nearly forgetting that Gojo probably heard that...

Probably would be an understatement too because Gojo's on his end of the call with his face flushed and his eyes widened, "Did you just moan?" He questions.

And as he does so, Geto decides not to hold back anymore, working up that brutal pace of his thrust by thrust as you slap a hand over your mouth and moan into your palm.

Barely even able to utter a response to Gojo, "N-No," You gasp, "I just-, mmh. Fuck, can I please call you back?"

Gojo blinks. Then he swallows, thickly, "Where's Suguru?"

Your mouth opens to respond but the phone is suddenly taken from you. Geto places one hand to your lower abdomen and pushes down slightly on the imprint in your skin where his cock is, his hips smacking into you roughly as you body jerked and you spasm.

Then you hear Geto speaking and realize he's taken the phone, "Busy fuckin' her to tears, call you back later 'Toru," He hums out simply.

Gojo coughs and then he laughs, "Hey wait," He stalls without second thought.

Your fiance tilts his head into the phone and his hips grow a bit harsher with you, the pressure of his hand on your lower abdomen making his swollen cock hit deeper and deeper. Then there was that mean curve of his, beating into where you were sensitive and making you whimper.

"Hm?" Geto hums in response, sounding almost annoyed.

"Y'Mind if I stay on the phone and listen?"

(pt. 2)

[lxnarphase]

━━ ❝ it's sticky, toshi... ❞

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...synopsis : you help ushijima finally realize that he's got a breeding kink

ᯓ ❤₊‧⁺...cw : u. wakatoshi x fem!reader, dirty talk, messy and wet, teasing, marathon sex, pet names, breeding kink, talks of pregnancy, ushijima can't stop cumming

ᯓ ❤₊‧⁺...lunar's note : haikyuu save me, save me ushijima wakatoshi, SAVE ME !! anyways hi i spent 150$ on ushijima merch yesterday and i don't regret it, so say hello to my haikyuu phase coming back !!!

ushijima having a breeding kink isn't a surprise to you at all.

what is surprising is how long it takes for him to figure it out.

sure, at first it wasn't clear, but after being with him for so long, you quickly pick up on whenever he'd mutter in your ear as he slid his stupidly big cock inside of you, saying how badly he wished he could cum inside of you instead in the condom.

afterwards, he's so focused on cleaning you up and making sure you felt good and satisfied, you don't get a chance to question him on it. not that you were complaining, ushijima is so cute when he's asking if you need anything and constantly reminds you to get up and go use the bathroom.

it's even cuter when he realizes you can't walk.

"ah. i'm sorry, i didn't realize how hard i went...here, let me help."

eventually, you to suggest things to ushijima, trying to test out the waters with him.

you start by just asking if he’d want to fuck you without the condom, what he thought about cumming inside, even jokingly saying you’d make him a dad one day.

but it seems like that last part was swimming around his head for a while...he can't get the thought of you getting chubby and round with his kid out of your head. and knowing he'd be able to take care of you all the time? that thought alone made him shiver a little.

what can he say, he loves doting on you more than anything.

however, you aren't expecting the way he reacted weeks after dealing with your teasing and questioning, fueling the thoughts swirling inside his head.

"toshi, if you ever cum inside me, you should set it as your phone background! actually, wait, no, because what if your teammates see it..."

"..."

"mm, maybe a video instead? ooh, yeah, i want a video of you cumming in me then pullin' out so i can see it spill out, toshtosh, would you do that f' me?"

he doesn't reply and doesn't give you a chance to comment again. the visual you painted in his mind just too much for him.

next thing you know, ushi's got you folded in half on the bed, making sure you feel every drag of his stupidly fat cock against your hot gummy walls. he's pulling out to just the tip before slamming back inside you, groaning each time you let out a whimper of his name or squeeze down on him.

"toshi, t-toshi! h-hoohmygod, please, baby, c-calm down, 'm sorry f' teasin', oh my goddd...!"

you're so fucking wet and noisy, he wants to make you be quiet because he feels like your going to make him cum too fast but he'd never ever do it as the thought of not being able to hear you is painful.

he's lost track of time, your cunt making him brainless as he pumps his cock in and out of you as he groans your name, one of his hands pinning your arms to your back while the other presses your head into the pillows.

"s-shhh, honey, let...let me make you feel good, y're so loud..."

it's so fucking messy and sloppy, his cum is dripping out of your tight pussy from how many times he’s emptied his load into you, but he still isn’t stopping, no, he can't. it’s leaking from between your thighs, leaving a milky white sheen on his dick, dripping down onto the bedsheets.

"m-mmh, nooo, toshi, don' wanna be quiet, i-i wan' you to hear how good you make me feel, baby," you purr between moans, knowing that your voice was enough to get him off. the throb of his dick inside of you told you that you were right.

“i...i thought 'bout fucking you like this all day, during practice…that i’d fuck you full of my cum, get it so deep inside you," he mutters with a grunt, moving his hands off you so he could drape himself over your back.

"f-fuck, everyone knew something was off, kageyama kept asking me if-if was okay, how 'm i 'posed to tell him my pretty little honey is waiting at home for me to fill them with my cum?”

with an affirming coo, you manage to tilt your head to the side to look over your shoulder, wanting to see how ushijima is holding up and god, the sight is so sinful.

ushijima's dripping in sweat, his bottom lip swollen and puffy from his teeth digging into it. his fluffy hair is messy and sticking to his damp forehead, and his eyes are shut, squeezing in pleasure when the head of his cock brushed against that sweet spot just right, making your cunt spasm around him.

but his eyes keep opening to see the mess between the both of you. each thrust causes his cum to spill out around him, loud, wet squelches filling the bedroom. and it's only fueling his need to fill you up again, and again, and again, until he can’t anymore.

ushijima can’t stop himself, flipping you over onto your back and folding you into a mating press and, god, he's so fucking happy he did. the way you sob his name, your nails clawing at his back as you cry in pleasure about how much deeper he is now driving him insane.

“t-toshi, cum in me, please, wanna make you a daddy, please.”

“I know, baby, I’ll give you all of it, fuck you full of cum until you can’t take anymore.”

fuck, he’s so loud, he sounds so good. ushi's deep, drawn out groans and pants of your name making you go dizzy, his big hands squeezing your waist tightly each time your hands tug at his hair.

“mm, fuck, that’s right, take all my cum, look at you, so good, can you take more? let...let me cum in you again, baby, you promised you’d make me a daddy, right? i-i need to make sure it sticks.”

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[catchastarorten]

—Pause the game.

Pairing: the salesman/recruiter x wife!fem!reader

Summary: your husband had some ‘work’ to take care of with the two people that had been trailing after him all day, but when your call came in, and when he found out that you felt sick, you became much more important than whatever he had going on.

Warnings: mainly fluff, mentions of Woo-seok and Jeong-rae following snd spying on him, some parts of the Russian roulette game, he’s soft for you, he misses you, English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, not proofread, sorry!

Word count: ~ 1.4k

The day had been long, even by his standards. A hundred lottery scratchers, a hundred loaves of bread, the park, the homeless. He had been up to a little ‘social experiment’. Even then, he caught onto the two men who had been trailing behind him since the subway station.

He wasn’t stupid. Someone was after him, and these two lackeys were clearly here to track him down. His best guess? Seong Gi-hun.

Woo-seok and Jeong-rae had been following him like shadows—clumsy ones, attempting to blend in with the surroundings every time he stopped, as if they expected him to turn around and strike at any moment. And eventually, he did.

He had let them tail him, then to his surprise, they made the first move down an alleyway to avoid losing him. By the time they realized they had made a mistake, it was too late. He had taken them down quickly, efficiently, the way he always handled these things. No emotions, no hesitation.

Jeong-rae had gone down first, crumpled to the ground. Woo-seok tried to fight back with the poor attempt of using a small knife, but a sharp blow of the suitcase to his head had knocked him out.

Now, they were sitting across from each other, bound to chairs, tied up with ropes, their mouths gagged, their muffled groans filling the dimly lit room. They couldn’t scream, couldn’t beg—just incoherent muffled noises as they squirmed like trapped animals.

He slowly circled the two men, then stopped to place a hand on each of their shoulders, eyes filled with amusement at their looks of terror.

“We're going to play a game now... Rock, Paper, Scissors, Minus One. I trust you know the rules.” his gaze flickered from Jeong-rae to Woo-seok, a smile forming on his lips.

“You form a shape with each hand, then take one away. The game is decided by the remaining hands. Of course, there’s a penalty for the loser.” he picked up the nearby revolver and inspected it, then pressed the barrel to his temple. “Russian Roulette.”

Their muffled protests grew louder, their bodies twisting against the ropes in a futile attempt to escape. The two men were shaking, their breaths heavy as he leaned closer, his finger on the trigger.

Click.

Empty.

His smirk widened as he backed away slowly.

“Alright. Now, let’s play. On my count.”

But then, as he was getting ready to spin the cylinder of the revolver, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

His brows furrowed, the interruption pulling him out of the carefully constructed moment. He pulled the phone out, and the sight of your name on the screen made him pause.

He froze for a moment, staring at the screen as his heart softened. It wasn’t like you to call him in the middle of the day. You knew he was busy—always busy. The ‘work’ he pretended to do required him to keep odd hours, to vanish without explanation, and you never questioned it. You trusted him. And he loved you for that trust, even if he didn’t deserve it.

His thumb hovering over the answer button before taking a deep breath and sliding his mask of indifference back into place. But when he answered, his voice betrayed him. It was warm, gentle—a tone he reserved only for you.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft, the edge it had carried a moment ago completely gone. He shot the two men a warning look, his eyes narrowing as if daring them to make a sound.

Turning away from them, his tone dropped into something almost tender. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Your voice came through the line, quiet and tinged with vulnerability. “I… I didn’t mean to bother you. I just… I’m not feeling well.”

He could hear the catch in your throat, the faint rasp. “Are you sick?” he asked, straightening.

There was a pause on your end, then a soft sniffle that nearly broke his heart. “Yeah. Just a cold, I think. My head hurts, and I’m all stuffed up.”

He closed his eyes, letting out a slow, steadying breath as guilt twisted in his chest. You sounded miserable, and he hated that he wasn’t there to take care of you. Hated that he was here, in this cold room, when he should’ve been home with you.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured. “I know you’re busy. I just… I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said quickly, his voice gentle but firm. “You can call me anytime, okay? I mean it. Anytime.”

There was a pause, and then he heard another sniffle on the other end. It made his chest clench. “Where are you?” you asked. “Are you coming home soon?”

He glanced down at Woo-seok and Jeong-rae, their wide, panicked eyes watching him like trapped prey. The revolver gleamed on the table beside him, a stark reminder of the life he led when he wasn’t with you.

For the first time all day, he felt a pang of guilt—not for them, but for you. For the life he kept hidden from you. You had no idea what he did, the darkness he waded through every day. And he wanted to keep it that way. You were his light, his one connection to something pure and good in a world full of shadows.

“Soon,” he promised, his voice softening even further. “I’ll be home soon."

You didn’t reply right away, but he could picture you nodding, your lips pressed into that small, tired smile you always gave him when you were sick. He could see you in his mind—wrapped in a blanket, your hair messy, your cheeks flushed from the fever.

“There’s soup in the fridge,” he added gently. “I made it this morning. Heat some up, okay? And the heating pad’s in the bottom drawer. You’ll feel better if you use it.”

“Okay,” you murmured, your voice tired.

“I love you,” he said, the word coming out more vulnerable than he intended.

“I love you too,” you replied, and he could hear the faint smile in your voice despite the cold.

His chest tightened at the sound of those words. He glanced away from the two men on the floor, his jaw clenching as he fought the sudden wave of emotion that threatened to rise. “Now go rest, my love. I’ll be home soon.” his voice was thick with sincerity.

When the call ended, the room was silent. He stared down at the phone in his hand, his mind still on you.

For a moment, he let himself imagine walking through the door of your shared apartment, dropping his keys on the counter, and finding you curled up on the couch. He’d press a kiss to your forehead, make sure you were warm, and hold you until you fell asleep. That was all he wanted.

But instead, he was stuck here.

He slipped the phone back into his pocket and turned his attention to Woo-seok and Jeong-rae. His expression hardened once more. “Well,” he said. “Where were we?”

He reached for the revolver, spinning the cylinder with a practiced flick of his wrist. The sound echoed through the room, sharp and final.

“Rock, paper, scissors,” he said, his tone almost mocking. “Loser gets to test their luck with this. Simple, right?”

He crouched down in front of them, his movements slow and deliberate, as if savoring their terror.

They shook their heads frantically, their breathing heavy, protests muffled by the gag. He sighed, standing up and running a hand through his hair. “You know,” he said, his voice almost casual. “I’d love to stay and play, but I’ve got someone waiting for me at home. So let’s not drag this out.”

Their muffled protests grew louder, but he didn’t care. This was his world. His game.

And when it was over, he’d go home to you. To the warmth of your love, the softness of your touch.

You didn’t know what he was. What he did. And he intended to keep it that way.

Because as long as you were safe, as long as you loved him, he could pretend—for just a little while—that he was someone worth loving.

[mostly-imagines]

The Alchemy vol. I

jason todd x fem!reader

aka the progression of your relationship with the red hood

vol II

warnings: slow burn, mentions of attempted sa for reader, depictions of blood and injury, mentions of standard gotham violence

Dear fuck, he’s as heavy as he looks.

You use all of your weight to pull him backwards towards the couch, almost giving up when you realized you’d have to lift him up off the ground to actually get on it.

Getting him through the window was enough of a hassle, challenging the difficulty of the decision to bring him in here at all. 

Thankfully you don’t have to think too hard on it because you feel his body stiffen up suddenly. He jolts upright, though clearly pained to do so, hand flying to the gun holster on his side.

You take a step back, hands out in front of you. “Hey, it’s alright.”

“Who are you?” His voice is interrogative. 

You put your hands down, “You’re the one who passed out on my balcony, I think if anyone gets to ask that question it’s me.”

He stares at you, white lenses bearing into your soul.

Okay, yeah. You tell him your name. He doesn’t move. “You just looked like you needed some help..”

His posture loosens a bit, and his hand finally leaves the holster.

He glances down at his abdomen, a sizable tear in his suit and a nearly alarming amount of blood. “You got any bandages?”

“Uh, I—yeah, yeah, I do.” You dart down the hall into the bathroom, shuffling through your first aid kid. You toss a few wraps into your arms, along with some antiseptic spray you suspect he’ll need. You grab your hand towel and get it wet under warm water. 

When you return, he’s moved himself onto the sofa, lifting his shirt up to assess the damage. You round the couch, seeing more blood than you’d have hoped for.

“Can I?” You ask, motioning to his injury. 

He looks up at you for a long moment. He nods.

You kneel down in front of him and replace his hand in lifting up the shirt. It’s a cut, it doesn’t look terribly deep, but still not shallow enough that he could just leave it.

You take the rag and dab it around the wound, trying to clean up the blood as much as possible without making contact with it.

He’s very still as you work, and you get the strong impression he’s watching you carefully.

You grab the antiseptic spray, shaking it. “This’ll sting.”

He grunts.

You apply the antiseptic thoroughly and he doesn’t even flinch. Doesn’t move his gaze from you for a second.

You unwrap one of the bandages and place it on firmly, making sure there’s no bleedthrough.

And not that you particularly want to be thinking about this right now, but the man is noticeably ripped. Stacked like a house of cards.

You rip away your gaze and stand up, hands on your hips, taking a deep breath. You look at him—at his helmet.

You don’t know how you can tell, but he’s studying you. Trying to get a read on you, maybe. Regardless, you’re eager to escape the gaze.

You shovel the remainder of your supplies back into your arms and bring them back to the bathroom, calling out, “I didn’t take off your helmet, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

There’s a short beat. 

“Do I seem like someone that worries often?” 

You peek your head out of the bathroom door. 

You look at him. “You seem like someone that doesn’t worry enough.”

He snorts. “You’re not far off.”

You make your way back once you’re done, looking at the disregarded meal you’d been interrupted from. “I have pasta if you…eat.”

“I do.”

“I can go in the other room if you—”

He clicks the lock on his helmet, taking it off. He’s left with a second mask underneath, covering his eyes and nose. His dark hair sticks up from the helmet, a white streak poking out in the front. He looks younger than you would’ve expected. Cuter, if his jaw is anything to go by.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Okay then.

You grab a second plate out of the cabinet and scoop on the rest of the pasta from the pan.

You hand him the plate, avoiding standing too close. 

“Thanks, sweetheart.” 

You turn back around as casually as possible after hearing the name, wanting to avoid letting your face give anything away.

This guy kills people, right?

You sit down in the armchair across from the couch, spooling the pasta on and off the fork. He doesn’t show the same hesitation in dining away that you do—you guess fighting crime would require some calorie exchange.

“You a nurse?” He asks after a few minutes. 

The question takes you by surprise. You hadn’t taken him as a small talk kind of person. “Huh? Oh, no, I’ve just taken a few first aid courses and stuff.”

He gives a short hum, thoughtful.

“What?”

“You’re good.” Hardly.

“I didn’t really do anything.”

“You did enough.” He says, not leaving much room for argument.

He stands up at once, walking past you to the kitchen. Your gaze follows him silently. He puts his empty plate in the sink and returns to the edge of the living room.

He looks at you once more and pops his helmet back on followed by the click of the lock.

“I’ll see ya.” He says shortly, before ducking out the window.

You’re left alone, sitting in your armchair, plate of cold pasta forgotten on your lap.

That could’ve gone very badly. Maybe not your most thought-through decision to literally drag the Red Hood into your apartment, but hey. Maybe you’re exercising your ability to be an upstanding, helpful person. Or maybe you were just hoping to prevent a vigilante being found dead on your fire escape.

Regardless, you close the window after him, leaving it unlocked. Just in case.

You wake in the middle of the night to the sounds of footsteps in your living room. You shoot upright, immediately spotting the lamp light flooding in from under your door.

Creeping to a stand, you grab the baseball bat next to your bed and slowly walk to the door.

You creep the door open as quietly as possible, inching out half a step at a time. A nearby creak on your floorboards had you swinging blindly, only to have your bat get stopped midair. You look up to see Mr. Hood himself, blocking the blow of your hit with his hand. 

“Wow. You and a bat against Gotham, huh, sweetheart?”

“Fuck!” You let go of the bat and drown your face in your hands. “What is wrong with you?”

“Apparently that I don’t carry enough baseball bats with me.” He says coolly, inspecting your bat. Though he’s got to admit, your bat is probably a hell of a lot more useful than his. 

You drop your arms at your side. “If I’d known bringing you into my apartment one time was going to be considered a free pass forever, I might’ve thought twice.”

“If I’d known I was going to nearly be concussed with a baseball bat, I might’ve too.” Barely. If you’re being honest with yourself, you’re still half asleep and it was not a very good swing.

He looks at you straight on for the first time. His helmet quickly drifts down and back up to your face just as fast.

You look down. T-Shirt, underwear, and…no that’s it. Not…ideal. You pull down on the unfortunately not at all oversized shirt, wanting to creep back into your room.

He turns his back, allowing you to do just that and scramble for some shorts to throw on. 

“Very gentlemanly of you.” You call out from your room, “And only thirty seconds after breaking into my apartment.”

“Okay, one, I’ve been here longer than that. In a non creepy way.”

“Right.”

“And two, I didn’t break anything. You live in the middle of Gotham and don’t lock your window?”

You reemerge in the doorway, “I live on the eighth floor.” 

He turns around to face you again, helmet in his hands. “Didn’t stop me.” No it did not. 

“Mm. So are you here specifically to judge my home security or was there something you needed?”

He takes a deep breath, “Actually yeah. I just need a place to rest for a minute.” 

“Rest from what?”

A series of gunshots echo from down the street.

“Next question.”

Concise.

You and Hood sit on the couch in the dark, per his insistence, because for some godforsaken reason, you have no curtains. It takes a few minutes for the silence to dissipate into forced conversation, which takes a few more minutes to fade into actual conversation.

“Can I be honest with you?” You ask him.

“Does it matter how I answer?”

“I don’t understand how you’re not dead.” You poke your head up, turning to him. “Are you human?”

He cranes his neck to look out the window, “Maybe getting shot at isn’t the worst thing that could happen tonight…”

You roll your eyes with a smile that you’re glad is hidden by the darkness. “Oh, fuck off.”

“You don’t have much in terms of self-preservation skills, do you?”

You ignore him as to not acknowledge that he’s probably right and roll through to your next curiosity, “Who the hell was shooting at you anyways?” Though, you don’t really expect an answer.

He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. They got ‘til sunrise anyway.”

You tilt your head, “‘Til sunri—” oh. Yeah. Come to think of it, he does have two guns on him right now. At least that you can see. You squint blankly at the wall, “You know, I’m placing a lot of trust in the hope that you’re not just as bad as those guys.”

“Yes you are.” He nods, not doing anything to convince you that he is in fact a good guy. He hasn’t tried to harm you in any way though, so you guess that’s a good sign.

You tilt your head at him. “Do you get paid to do this?” 

“I’m pretty sure there’s a lot of people who would pay me not to do this.” 

You nod solemnly, mouth turned into an exaggerated frown. “So you have a day job?”

He looks over at you, “Do you always ask this many questions?”

“Are you always so dodgy about answering them?” You shoot back. If you’d thought for .5 seconds longer on that, you might not have said anything. But you feel comfortable here, in your apartment with a man whose face you’ve never seen, name you don’t know, and always has at least two loaded guns on him.

He huffs out a laugh, “Yeah. I am.” He looks over at you. “You live here by yourself?”

You look around at the empty apartment before turning back to him, “Seems that way.”

He shrugs, “Boyfriend could be out or something.”

“Well most people are asleep at one in the morning. Like I was. Remember that?”

“No.”

You sigh, curling up into a ball on your end of the couch, resting your chin on your knees. You’re quiet for a minute before piping up, “Do people actually break into apartments on high floors a lot?”

“Stupid people.” He pauses, looking over at the frown on your face. “Look, I’m in the neighborhood a lot. If I see somebody climbing your fire escape I’ll shoot them.”

You let a little smile out, “I’m thinking there’s other steps you could take before you get to that point.”

“If you want to waste time.” His gaze doubles back at you, “That was a joke, by the way.”

You bark out a tired laugh, “Yeah, I picked up on that, thanks.”

He removes his eyes from you, fixing on a set of pictures you have hanging on the wall.

Your eyes flutter and you move to rest your head on the arm of the couch. “Is this going to be a regular thing then?”

“You could lock your window.”

“Living on the eighth floor didn’t stop you, I can’t imagine a shitty lock will do much more.”

“If you don’t want me here, I won’t be here.” He says gruffly.

“If I don’t want you here, I’ll let you know.” You mumble, eyes closing.

You can barely make out a laugh from him, “Good to know.”

You’re not quite sure how much time goes by when he leaves, but you have a pretty strong feeling you’d fallen asleep. Your main indicator was feeling the blanket draped nicely over you that you could’ve sworn was on the chair across the room.

Maybe it’s ten o’clock at night and you’re sat on your kitchen floor, bawling your eyes out. Maybe you’re going to have to quit your job. Or maybe you’ll have to face a lawsuit. Maybe this is the worst day in the history of time. Maybe it’s about to get worse. 

The sound of your living room window sliding open has you startling into a rush, body panicking as if you’ve done something wrong and desperately need to cover the evidence. The past few weeks of sporadic visits leaves no question about who it is, and you just hope the kitchen island in front of you will be enough to convince Hood that you’re not in and he’ll leave.

But because today is today, that’s not how it goes down.

You can vaguely make out the sound of his footsteps approaching, a courtesy that you’re sure he incorporated on purpose.

“Oh fuck…” you mutter to yourself, wiping your eyes.

He rounds the counter, looking down at you. “Wha—what’s wrong?”

“Fuck. Nothing.” You say, standing up and adjusting your clothes. “Are you hurt?” He better fucking not be at only ten.

“No, I—why are you on the floor?” 

You roll your eyes, “I live alone, forgive me for assuming I would be given the privilege to cry on the floor in private.”

“Did something happen?” You’re trying really hard not to call him an idiot. 

You raise your eyebrows, giving a light nod. “Uh, yeah, I’d say so.”

He shifts in his stance, “Do I need to talk to someone?”

You scoff, knowing damn well his version of ‘talk to someone’ does not include talking to someone. “Why are you even here so early?” 

“Wanted to stop by before I went out.” he says quietly.

You’re about to snap something at him again, but the burning in your eyes takes immediate priority. You wrap your arms around your middle and try to calm yourself down, with very little success. The tears fall easily and your shoulders start shaking as you look at the floor, letting the melancholy take over. 

It feels like much longer than it probably was, but sometime after the first few tears fall he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. This only makes you cry harder, sobbing against his armor. Your arms stay wrapped around your center, while his hands remain completely still against your back, though firm. You don’t realize it immediately, but he’s holding a good portion of your weight up, you’d for sure collapse onto the floor otherwise. You kind of wish you would. Sitting on the floor felt nice, maybe falling down on it will feel even better.

You slowly start to regain your breathing, the well in your eyes drying up again. He waits for you to stop completely and slowly pulls back from you, hands momentarily still wavering next to you like he’s ready to catch you.

It takes you a minute to notice, but his helmet is locked on to the finger-shaped bruises on your forearm. You awkwardly move your opposite arm to cover them, looking around your apartment with nothing to search for.  

He’s quiet for a long while, clearly thinking hard. “What happened?”

You sniffle, “Some asshole at my job.”

“Some asshole?” He doesn’t believe you. Rightfully so, but he has no business being able to tell that you’re lying about one single word in that sentence.  

“My boss. Was very intent on successfully hitting on me.” You exhale deeply, “His approach could use some work though, if I’m honest.”

His posture remains statue-like. “Where do you work?”

You look at him straight on for the first time that night, “What does that matter?”

“I’ll take care of it.” He says simply.

You wave him off, “It’s fine.”

He waits a moment before letting you know, “I’m being polite by asking, I’m going to find out either way.”

You plop back down on the kitchen floor, knees to chest. “Well, then do it the hard way.”

About ten seconds of him staring down at you in silence go by, before he sits down next to you. It’s a bit funny how he tries to shrink himself down next to you, you’re assuming because he doesn’t want you to get panicked again because this massive stranger is sitting next to you in your kitchen in the dead of night.  

You don’t look at him as he clicks his helmet off and sets it on the other side of him. It’s quiet for another minute when he holds his gloved hand out to you, and you’re not quite sure how you know what he wants, but you do. You place your bruised arm in his hand, letting him gently pull it closer to him and scan over it. 

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” 

Again, you don’t know how, but you can tell he’s asking how far things went. “I started screaming and it freaked him out. He let me go.” you say numbly. 

You can see him nod out of the corner of your eye, bits of red making their way into your peripheral despite the discarded helmet. You turn slowly to look at him, finding him looking at you already.  

His face is more covered than it had been the first night, the same black mask covers his eyes but the lower half of his face is also hidden by a red mouthpiece. You’re in the lamp light and closer to him than you had been before and you’re counting out specks of green in his blue eyes. He lets you, to your surprise, and when you run out of emerald hues you take focus on his thick, dark eyelashes. Your gaze moves back ever so slightly to make eye contact with him and you tear your eyes away, zeroing in on the kitchen tiles. 

You sigh contemplatively, “I’m worried if you kill my boss it’ll be traced back to me and I’ll get pinned for it.”

He doesn’t laugh. But your delivery was a little dry in the wrong way so really it was on you.

“I’m not going to kill him.” he tells you, “I wouldn’t gamble with my pied-a-terre like that.”

Your head falls back, hitting the drawer behind you with a light thud. “Then why waste your time at all?” Maybe you should slow down with the snide comments.

He wants to, but he doesn’t call out the implied self-slighting in your words. “Maybe it’s a ‘me’ thing but I don’t particularly like men that hurt women.”

You let out a dry laugh. “In Gotham, it just might be.”

He sits with you on the linoleum tile of your kitchen until your eyes start to droop and he lightly corrals you to your bedroom before taking his exit through the window. You told him multiple times that he could go and you were fine, but he insisted that nothing important was happening in the city that time of night. You didn’t quite believe him though, because it was past midnight by the time he’d headed out.  

When you showed up to work the following day your boss wasn’t there. Wasn’t there the day after either. Or the day after. He didn’t make an appearance again until the following Monday. And when he did show face, he did so with a neck brace and a cast on his leg. But once more, he absolutely refused to make eye contact or speak to any of the female employees. It actually became a whole thing when he wouldn’t give instructions or feedback to any of you, and insisted on having his secretary replaced with a man, who he then used as a middle man to speak to all of the women for him. HR got involved three times in the span of the next five days, and by the Monday after, he’d been fired.

So to recap: yes, no, no, undecided, and hard no. 

Maybe you’re really starting to like this Red Hood guy.

Hard yes.

You’re slightly on guard upon hearing a clattering on the balcony, though if the past few weeks have been any indicator, you’re not in much danger.

Your posture slumps as you peer around the hallway corner, “Oh, it’s you.”

“Good to see you too.” he grumbles, dropping onto the floor.

“Well, I have to imagine I’m a step up from the last person you saw.” You say, looking him up and down, seeing what sure as hell looks like a gunshot wound on his chest armor. “What happened to you? The Mad Hatter uses guns now?”

He groans, “Ah, I said something about him being a heartless fuck, and I guess he took it personally.”

You sigh, “Jesus Christ, Hood.”

He waves you off, “It’s not that big of a deal.” 

You scoff, “He tried to shoot you in the heart.”

“Yeah, well, he missed.” He grumbles, adjusting his position on the couch. 

You exhale sharply, “How do you know?”

“How do I know?” He tilts his helmet at you, exasperated. 

You throw your arms up at your side, “I don’t know! I’m not equipped for this scenario.”

He huffs, “Look, it’s fine, it hit my armor. It’ll probably just be a bad bruise.”

“Probably?”

“I don’t think there’s blood. Could you…” he vaguely gestures to his torso, but it's enough for you to get the hint.

You shake the panic out of your head, “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

You help him shrug off his jacket as he strips off his armor, and you lift his shirt up as slowly as you can in case the injury is worse than he thinks.

You’re not shocked to see that he has scars, that’s kind of a given in his line of work. What you are shocked to see is one very long scar that lines directly up the center of his body. It’s a deep scar, too.

And, oh. The long scar extends further, splitting off into a fork at his collar. That’s—oh. Oh. Oh. That is an autopsy scar. 

You’re not sure what to do. You’ve never seen a living person with an autopsy scar—though you have to imagine neither have most people.

He clearly does not want to talk about it and you’re happy to let him keep the skeleton in the closet.

You avert your gaze back over to his diaphragm at the area of reddened skin.

“There’s no blood, but…” You inspect it a bit closer, “I think there’s going to be a bad bruise. You might end up with bruising on your ribs, you need to get that looked at.”

“I am.” He says shortly.

You stand up straight, dropping your shoulders. “By someone who went to medical school. Or has taken more than one anatomy class in their life.” 

He yanks down his shirt, standing, apparently too quickly, and wobbling. You catch his arm as he sways, attempting to steady him. “You should sit down.”

“Need to go back out.” He grunts, trying to pull away from you with little force.

“To get killed? ‘Cause you’re going the right way about it.” 

He tilts his head at you like he’s daring you to be so bold again. At least that's what it felt like. You sigh, gesturing to the couch, “Sit down.”

You didn’t expect it to work but he does as told.

You look around, unsure of what to do next. “Do you need ice?”

“What?”

“You’re hurt.” You say slower. “Do you need ice?”

He falters for a second, “No, it’s—no.” A couple beats pass before he adds, “Thanks, sweetheart.” 

It’s impossible not to notice that he’s staring at you. You feel hot under his gaze, not knowing what to do with yourself. You clear your throat, telling him to hang on for a second. 

You call out behind you as you walk to the kitchen, “Take your helmet off, it’s rude.” You grab the painkillers from their new easily-accessible place on the kitchen counter and grab a water bottle from the fridge.

It was a joke but when you come back his helmet is off and he’s just wearing his domino eye mask. His hair is extra tousled, the white streak barely visible in the mess of loose curls. You toss the bottle of meds at him, followed by the capped bottle of water. He catches them easily, downing more than he probably should have but he got shot tonight so you figure you’ll give him a break about it.    

You plop down on the couch next to him, honestly closer than you’d meant to. Your knees and shoulders lightly brush against one anothers, though neither of you make any moves to scoot over. 

You both look straight ahead at the wall, simmering in the amity. “So did somebody else deal with the Hatter or when you get shot do you just bounce back like a T-1000?”

He scoffs, “No, getting shot at is a bit of an inconvenience for me.”

“Wrong line of work.”

He cocks an eyebrow, “You’re telling me.”

You turn your head to him, “Why do you do it then?” 

He looks back at you earnestly. “Someone has to.” 

“Someone does.”

He tenses up a bit at that, breaking eye contact. “Not well enough.” 

Your head slowly lulls and drops into a rest on his shoulder, causing him to stiffen up a bit more before almost completely relaxing.

“So violence is the answer to violence?” you ask, not argumentative, just genuinely musing. 

Hood sighs, “Half-assed reform programs didn’t do anything, shitty ‘crisis interventions’ didn’t do anything, the cops sure as hell don’t do anything.” He shrugs under you. “You run out of options eventually.”

“And that’s why you took it upon yourself to intervene?”

“Mm. ‘When reason fails, the devil helps.’” He says, quite melodramatically, in your opinion.

“I-Is that—” you squint, shooting off of his shoulder to look him in the eye. “You spend your nights getting in street fights and shootouts and you spend your days reading Crime and Punishment of all things?” You gawk at him, “That explains a lot about your disposition.”

He shrugs with a shake of his head. “It’s a rough world. Can’t afford to be reading about Hogwarts.”

You pause, combing through your next words, “‘Man only likes to count his troubles; he doesn’t calculate his happiness.’”

His eyes crinkle under his mask as he smiles, clearly pleasantly surprised that you know your shit. “Touché.”

You grin back, pleased with yourself. 

There’s a brief recession where your smiles both get caught in the flicker between on and off, where your eyes take the opportunity to scan over each other’s faces. 

You realize that this may be the first time you’ve seen him properly smile and it’s so magnetizing. So much so that you don’t realize you’re staring at his lips until your eyes snap back up to his and find that his are on yours.

His eyes don’t leave yours as he nudges you a bit with his shoulder. It does just enough to break the trance, giving you the cue to rest your head on him again. This time you allow more of your weight to lean against him and he actually seems relaxed for once.

 You glance at the clock on the wall without moving and realize it’s almost four in the morning. “I’m tired, Hood.” you mumble into his shirt.

“You don’t—” he falters for a moment, “You don’t have to call me that.”

You squint at him, “What should I call you then?”

He’s quiet for a moment. “J.”

“J?” you whisper, like it’s a grave secret. You guess it kind of is.

He nods.

“Okay.” Your cheek flattens against his shoulder. “J.” 

You nearly think you’re imagining it when you feel him rest his head against yours.

“You don’t know how to protect yourself?”

You roll your eyes at him, “You saw the way I swung at you with the baseball bat, what do you think?”

It’s only just after sunset, you could still see some purple-pink hues in the sky if you looked out the window. He’s started showing up before patrol some nights, saying he felt bad about waking you up at 3 am multiple times a week. So now, he mostly only drops in late if he’s a manageable amount of injured.

You stand in the middle of your living room together, after you’d made a joke about needing him as a bodyguard in Gotham. As it turns out, that was a one way street to him finding out that you’re useless in a fight.

“I was hoping you were having an off night because you just woke up, but now I'm concerned.” He says, grimacing.

You shrug, “I carry pepper spray.” 

He grumbles, displeased. “Put your hands up.”

You drop your head to the side and glower at him, “Really?”

He raises his eyebrows at you. Just do it. 

Alright, you’ll humor him. You put your fists up and he holds his hands open in front of you in kind. You throw a light punch.

“Come on, put your weight behind it.”

You do, hitting his hand harder. “Hood—”

He tilts his head forward at that, looking at you through his brows.

You inhale impatiently, “J, Why do we have to do this? I don’t have any illusions that I could knock you out and I can’t imagine you do either.” 

He shakes his head, “It’s not about knocking someone out, it’s about defending yourself. Gonna be a hell of a lot harder to hurt you if you’re throwing punches. Harder.”

You give a raised hum, “Not if they have a gun…”

“Well, we’ll work on that too.”

You groan, throwing a half-assed hit. “Where’d you learn to fight?” You ask before throwing another.

“Turn your body into it.” He corrects. “My, uh, my dad taught me.”

You hum, hitting him again. “Are you guys close?”

“You’re being nosy again.” He grunts amidst a hit.

“You’re being evasive again.” You shoot back.  

He drops his hands, taking your wrists in his, “Here, put your hands in front of your face when you shoot so you can block counters.” He tells you, adjusting your stance accordingly.

You make a face, “I’m confused, am I fighting a mugger or a kickboxer?”  

He ignores you, moving his hands around to give you different angles to hit at. 

You go at it for a few minutes, taking his critiques with reluctant concedence. “Alright, that’s good.” He says, relaxing his body.

You perk up, “We’re done?” 

“No,” he shuts you down before asking earnestly, “Do you trust me?”

Your brain hadn’t even fully processed the question before you nod, mumbling a ‘yes’. He takes a measured step closer to you, watching carefully for your reaction. You almost back up in surprise, angling your head up further to look at him properly. You give no objection, so he continues, “I want you to try to get me on the ground.”

You let out a sound that’s half-laugh, half-scoff. “You’re twice my size.”      

He sighs, looking at you somberly. “Sweetheart, odds are you’re not going to be evenly matched against someone that wants to hurt you. You get ‘em on the ground ‘n you have the upper hand or it’ll give you time to get away.”

You throw your hands up at your sides, “I don’t—” You huff, “Fine, okay.” You try to trip him by sliding your leg behind his and kicking, but he blocks you expertly.

You, against better judgment, shove your shoulder into his side, though it does nothing to phase him, let alone knock him down. 

“You gotta get more creative than that.” He chastises with a tut. 

In response, you take a step back to reassess the situation. You try to maintain a poker face as you strategize in your head. You make a dive for his legs, wrapping your arms around the back of his legs and pulling hard to make him lose balance. You’re sure if he were actually trying for a damn you would immediately be done for afterwards, but it does make him wobble. You then throw all of your weight against him, pushing him backwards and causing him to hit the floor with a thud.

He probably allowed for gravity to come to your aid, but he lands on his back all the same. You land half on him, half on the carpet, your hand resting on his chest. He looks up at you nodding, “Good. That was good, sweetheart.”

You smile, quite proud of yourself, and start to stand up when he hooks his arm around the back of your knee and pulls you to the ground too, switching places with you. You hit the ground gently with a sigh, “Really?”

He has one hand rested next to your head to balance him in his place above you. He smirks down at you and lets a tussle of white hair hang over his forehead. “Can’t be getting cocky, sweetheart.”

You laugh sourly, “Coming from you?” 

You quickly push at the bend of his arm and use the distraction to adjust your position to wrap your legs around his center and push your arm against his chest in an attempt to rotate him off of you.

He counters you by pushing your shoulder down, holding you down to the floor. His opposite hand flies to pull your forearm away from his chest, pinning it next to your head, careful to avoid your hair. He moves so quickly that you have half a mind to think he acted on pure instinct. That, and the look on his face when the dust settles says that he hadn’t intended for you to end up in this position. 

Your legs are still wrapped around him and you’re too frozen in the moment to make any changes. He’s in no more of a rush to move, large frame towering over you. You feel his touch stutter against your shoulder, his eyes flickering across your face.

You gaze up at him, taking in the soft look in his eyes behind the mask. You think you can see more green than you did before. You unwrap your legs from around his waist and slowly start to sit up. He releases your wrist and eases the pressure on your shoulder. He leans back half as quickly as you move forward, stopping when you’re propped up on your elbows.

Your faces are only a few inches apart and it feels like your only option is to look down at his lips. You have a feeling he’s doing the same to you. The adrenaline of the hassle has long since faded but the rhythm in both of your chests remains quick.

He leans forward so barely, but it’s enough to make your breath hitch. “J…” you say breathily, not sure what implication you’re aiming for.

He stills and this time you’re sure he’s looking at your lips. He blinks a few times like he’s trying to come back to himself and inches his face away from yours slowly. 

You let the hold in your breath release, disappointed more than anything. He eases off the floor to a stand and holds his hand out to help you up too. You take it with more of a frown than you’d meant to let out and rise to your feet.

“Let’s, uh…” He looks at the ground before taking a step back and putting his hands up again. “Let’s try some combos.”

You blink up at him for a second before raising your hands too.  

Alright, one step at a time.   

vol II

[mingtinys]

in a thousand lifetimes

pairing : choi seungcheol x gn!reader

hurt / comfort , angst , mafia leader!scoups au

warnings : language , descriptions of blood , mafia themes

word count : 3.5 k

requested ? no

a/n : there's just something about the domestic side of mafia au's that i just love so dearly . secretly soft and fragile mafia leader crying in the arms of their loved one >>>>>>> ruthless and cold mafia leaders .

The day you stood by Seungcheol at the altar, you promised a myriad of unconditional vows, as did he. For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health— until death do you part. To love him without doubt and cherish the heart he had so willingly placed in your care. You swore to cradle it with gentle hands; to keep it safe from shattering until the very last beat.

You were prepared for that. Excited, even.

But as Seungcheol limps through the entrance of the home you've built together, you feel your confidence in that pact falter for the first time. Perhaps you'd missed something in your vows. The part that told you what to do when the love of your life comes home stained in red. From his white button-up to his polished shoes— even his sweet, sweet face— tarnished.

You don't want him to hear the way your voice trembles. But God, that stench. That pungent scent of iron coats your throat and you can't help the way it constricts to keep the subsequent wave of nausea at bay.

"Cheol?"

His head snaps up at you like he's just now realized where he is. Glazed-over eyes connect with the wood floors you'd spent an hour mopping, then to his shaking hands painted in crimson, before that stale gaze finally lifts and meets your own.

"Are you hurt?"

He shakes his head.

"Seungcheol..." You take cautious steps his way, like how one would approach a wild deer. "Who's blood is this?"

Tears are in his eyes, but his face remains rigid. Like his brain is stuck in survival mode, but his emotions are leaking out.

"Chan's."

The boy's name hits your ears like venom. Sweet, gentle, kind, Lee Chan. The youngest intern under Seungcheol's leadership, you'd met him once at a company dinner. You don't think you've ever met someone with such a heart of gold. And it's a little hard to imagine you could be staring at all that's left of him. "Oh my God, is he okay? What happened?"

Seungcheol's face twists at your questions, some memory pulling at his brows and forcing his eyes shut. They open with fresh tears and the first ounce of clarity cracks through his otherwise dazed state.

"He's in the hospital—" You see the words catch in his throat. His fist repeatedly pounds against his thigh and his mouth hangs open until the words finally come. "It's my fault. He's just a kid, this is all my fault— he shouldn't have been there. They shouldn't have been able to get to him. It was too dangerous, he wasn't ready."

Nothing of his fragmented words makes any sort of sense. You've never seen him like this, so frazzled, so pitiful, so... broken. The sight of it twists your heart, contorting in your chest to such an unnatural degree there's a physical ache.

So, despite the nausea burning your esophagus and the screams of protest deep within your bones, your arms open and gravity pulls Seungcheol into them with labored steps. His knees buckle instantly at the contact and it takes every ounce of strength in your arms to catch him. Letting yourself sink with him to soften the fall; even if that means your knees land with a painful thud, already able to feel purple bruises blossoming from the impact.

Because you love him.

Because you vowed not only for better but for worse as well. And vows are only as good as the turmoils they prove to withstand.

Calloused hands grip the sides of your shirt. You try to ignore the stains they leave, pushing your focus onto the man before you on the brink of hysterics. His forehead falls to your chest, and that's when the most wretched sobs you've ever had the displeasure of hearing begin. Loud and sharp, like the blade of a sword, as they slice through the eerily still night.

A chill creeps in from where your knees connect with the hardwood and crawls up the length of your spine. It nests in your mind and metastasizes, igniting alarms in that little part of your brain that warns: you should be scared. Though it doesn't grant you the knowledge of what.

"Baby, what happened?" You ask and recite a silent prayer the answer to that is not him.

He sobs out an unpromising, "I can't."

"Seungcheol, there is too much blood for that shit. You need to tell me what the hell is going on." Your eyes are starting to burn with the flood breaching your lashes, unsure how much longer you can force an ease into your tone.

You need him to just spit it out. Before your heart explodes.

You steady his head between your palms and swipe at the blood spatter decorating his jawline. It just smears, mixing with his tears and tinting more of his cheek in a dull brownish-red. Seungcheol looks at you with eyes that scream please don't hate me and you don't know but... you know. Enough that when the confession finally pours from his lips, the shock doesn't totally shatter your ribs on impact. Instead, the words slowly seep into your skin and enter your bloodstream like a bitter poison.

Suddenly, minuscule details make much more sense, revealing the full picture like a jigsaw puzzle falling into place. The nights he doesn't return until the sun breaches the horizon. The general air of mystery around his job and the "family business" he took over years ago. How insistent he had been with you learning some type of self-defense. All the way down to the dried blood that lingered under his fingernails.

You should be levels more upset than you are at his confession. Any normal person would be. He lied to you, for years. Hid a secret so large it could easily blow a crater in the earth should the measly stilts it balanced on collapse. Yet, the anger you feel doesn't boil over into a blind rage. It stirs with concern and simmers until it has been diluted into nothing but the type of anger that can only be fueled by love. It comes with the terrifying revelation that the person you love most in this world, could've been stolen from you at any moment and you would've been none the wiser as to how. It makes you want to hold him a little extra in the mornings, a little harder, closer.

Then, somewhere, in that tangled web of emotions fighting to reach the surface, there's an unexpected relief. Because one thing has been glaringly obvious since the day you met Choi Seungcheol. The reason he appears as such a pillar of strength relies solely on the fact that he shoulders the weight of the world alone. Rarely does he let his struggles reach his cheery expression. You can't help but think, now that you know, there's one less burden he has to carry by himself.

"Please don't leave me," Seungcheol rasps out. You'd nearly forgotten where you were for a moment. Forgot his face was still between your hands, that blood still smeared his cheek, and tears were still slipping from his lashes. But at this moment, as those weary earth-brown eyes search your face for an answer, you realize just how malleable your morals are when it comes to him.

"I love you." You confess, like it's the first time the phrase has ever left your lips. "Cheol, I love you more than anything in this world." So much it frightens you what you're willing to forgive.

But then again it doesn't. Because he's never been Choi Seungcheol, the city's most feared mob boss. To you, he's always just been Cheol. The man that nearly burned your kitchen down two anniversaries ago trying to make you breakfast in bed. Who pouts and whines when you haven't given him enough attention after work. Who's touch has only ever been as gentle as a Summer's breeze. And maybe you're naive, but you'd like to believe the Seungcheol that peppers your face with kisses every morning and begs for five extra minutes in bed is a truer reflection of his heart than his job.

With one final deep breath to steel your nerves and silence the brigade of questions swirling in your head, you press a long kiss to his temple— one of the only areas not tainted with red. The tension in his muscles visibly melts away at the contact and beyond anything he just looks... tired. You want nothing more than to let him rest in the safety of your arms, but he's still covered in Chan's blood.

"Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?" You coax him from the floor, never once letting your voice slip above a gentle whisper. He tries to protest, insisting he needs to be at the hospital with the others to check on Chan, but puts up absolutely no fight when you tell him that can wait until tomorrow as you guide him towards the bathroom.

You gather towels and fresh clothes and lay them out on the vanity. "Take your time, okay? I won't go far, promise." With one last reassurance, you leave Seungcheol in privacy to shower and clean the blood from his skin.

Alone now, the adrenaline in your veins dissolves, and the full gravity of everything finally crashes around you. The metallic scent lingering in the air, the drying blood on the hardwood, the feeling of impending doom that comes with a truth so heavy. It's too much, at least to bear in such a tiny apartment. You all but sprint out the front door, accidentally letting it shut with a hefty slam.

The warm Summer night air hits your skin and wraps around you like a security blanket. You inhale deeply, once, twice, thrice, and on the fourth breath, it feels like the oxygen finally reaches the base of your lungs.

You sit, for a length of time you remain ignorant to, at the bottom of the stairwell. Lost deep in thought until the buzzing of your phone reverberates from your back pocket. You look at it but— no caller I.D.

Answering it anyway, a sense of comfort fills you at the familiar voice.

"Jeonghan." You greet.

"I'm sorry to call so late," He says, voice languid. "I just wanted to know if Seungcheol got home safe yet."

"He did."

There's a long pause of silence. Just the steady beeps of a heart monitor on the other side of the line. Then, "Is Chan okay?"

"Yeah, he's sleeping right now. Doctors gave him some of the good shit to knock him out for the night." There's a hesitance to the way he speaks and you think perhaps he's weighing in his mind what excuse Seungcheol might have told you as to why Chan is even in the hospital to begin with.

"Jeonghan, can I ask you something?"

"I can't promise I'll have an answer, but sure." He's always been so calculated in the way he speaks, which makes sense to you now.

You chew at the inside of your cheek. "Seungcheol, he... He keeps himself safe, right?"

"You know." He sighs, matter of fact.

"I do."

"He's careful, smart, keeps his hands clean-ish. We all look after each other, he's about as safe as he can be." The man on the other end of the line yawns, and you wonder how long he's been up wondering if Seungcheol made it home before he finally called. That in and of itself should comfort you and prove Seungcheol has people who care about him when you're not around, but it doesn't. You don't think anything ever could at this point. Perhaps it was better not knowing the truth.

"That doesn't exactly make me feel better."

Jeonghan snorts. "I didn't think it would."

Another stretch of silence spans over the line for an uncomfortably long time. So long, you begin to think maybe the call disconnected. But that steady beeping is still there, quiet, but there.

Then Jeonghan speaks, his sudden words sending ice pricking through your veins. "You're an accomplice now, you know?" His voice carries no emotion. It's as if he's reading the words straight from an instruction manual. "Unless, of course, you turn him in."

Oh.

You hadn't thought of that.

"Would you?"

His question lingers in the air like smoke, suffocating your airways so much it feels like you might choke before you can even answer.

Never has the idea of betraying Seungcheol's trust ever been a thought in your head, much less an option. But he's right. Your newfound knowledge makes you just as much a criminal in the eyes of the law as if you had committed the act yourself. It's either fess up while you still can or guard his secret with, quite literally, your life.

Perhaps you were a bit hasty. It was easy to hold Seungcheol in your arms and whisper comforting words between his sobs. However, when it comes to your own fate, you're forced to reckon with the dread that washes over you like a bucket of ice, alone.

Still, you're embarrassed that not even a shred of doubt weighs your decision. Just an immeasurable amount of guilt.

"No."

"You don't sound so sure."

"It's a lot to process." You defend, trying not to let your voice waver too much under Jeonghan's scrutiny.

"I know it is," He relents, and suddenly, his voice shifts back to the soothing, angelic tone you've always been used to. "I'm sorry, I haven't even asked how you're feeling."

The conversation lulls in what you assume is Jeonghan leaving space for you to share if so you wish. You don't— knowing that if you were to loosen even a single thread tethering your mind in the realm of sanity, it would all unravel. You've only just begun to construct the brittle wall that separates your Seungcheol from the one covered in blood. If it were to take a blow so early and come crumbling down, you fear you may not have the strength needed to start over.

Your current position is precarious and emotions are already tricky— pouring them out to Seungcheol's best friend even more so.

"I'm fine. I should probably get back to Cheol." You say instead.

Jeonghan hums. "He's had a rough night." Steady beeps still pulse like a metronome in the background, mixing with a subtle chatter. "Let him know everyone is okay and if you two need anything, just call."

"I'll tell him."

"That means you too."

A voice calls Jeonghan's name and the line goes dead before you can say anything more. Not that you had much else left to say— or anything that would be news to Jeonghan at least. It felt like he knew more about your spinning mind in one phone call than you'd pieced together since Seungcheol stumbled through the door.

Seungcheol.

Seungcheol, who's been alone in your tiny apartment for who knows how long at this point. With nothing but his thoughts and a water heater that runs out far too quickly to comfort him. Your heart aches at the idea of him crumpled up in the basin of the porcelain tub alone.

Seungcheol, whom you find sitting at the kitchen island with his head in his hands— hunched over a steaming mug of tea— upon your return. His hair hangs down in damp strings, dripping onto his pair of comfort sweatpants, the ones he tends to gravitate towards when he's had a long day.

The door clicks shut behind you and his head snaps up with lightning quick reflexes. A wild look flashes in his eyes, but it melts away almost as quick as it came. His shoulders slump with relief and for what seems like an eternity, he just let's his gaze linger.

"I didn't think you were coming back." He rasps. His fingers curl around the mug, siphoning off some of its warmth to combat the slight chill in the air.

His hands are clean now— free of any trace of dark red— then again, they never really were. Probably never will be.

"To be honest, I wasn't completely sure I was." You're still some distance away from where he sits, a fact you're made painfully aware of by the way his eyes flit between you and the door. As if he expects you to flee at any moment.

"I would understand, you know?" His voice is as soft and genuine as it was the day he said I do. "I wouldn't be mad. My job, this life, it was never supposed to be your burden. You can walk out and I wouldn't—" His voice catches and he takes a swig of his tea, cringing at the temperature as it goes down. "—I wouldn't stop you."

You know he wouldn't. Because Choi Seungcheol is a good man. There would not be a ring on your finger if he wasn't. It's why you're so comfortable closing the distance that separates you two.

It's why you're so comfortable excusing all of his wrongs.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"You should." He croaks. Tears gather at his waterline and on instinct, you wipe the first to fall away. But more continue to silently slip down his cheeks. Unable to catch them fast enough, you step between his legs and guide his forehead to your shoulder with a gentle hand on the back of his neck.

Seungcheol lets out a shaky breath as your fingers trail down the nape of his neck to just between his shoulders, then back up again. You hold him. Just as you've held his heart for years. Delicate. Like handling glass.

"I love you," He whispers. "I'm sorry I lied, I— all I ever wanted was to keep you safe."

"I know."

He tilts his head back, staring up at you with damp cheeks and bloodshot eyes. "I don't deserve you."

You tuck a piece of hair that's fallen into his eye behind his ear. "I could find you in a thousand lifetimes and there wouldn't be a single one where that'd be true."

"I'd still spend every one of those thousand lifetimes making it up to you." His hands grip your hips, holding you steady, as if he's still scared you'll run away.

"You." You hold the underside of his chin so he can't divert his gaze for your next words. Your tone is a firm, bordering on authoritative. "Make it up to me by coming home."

Seungcheol nods, but it's not a good enough answer for you.

"Don't ever make me plan your funeral, Choi Seungcheol. Do you understand? You cannot do that to me."

"I won't."

"Promise me. Because I swear if I ever have to hear from Jeonghan that you're not coming home I swear I'll—"

Seungcheol takes your hand from his chin and pulls it flat against his chest. The quick but rhythmic beats of his heart calms your barrage of threats instantaneously.

"I promise."

The words leave his lips slowly. Each syllable is enunciated loud and clear, so the sincerity with which he says them can reach your ears without doubt. His words linger in the air and all you can focus on is his pulse. How terrified you are that one day it'll stop before your own. That there could come a night where your head rests against empty sheets instead of his chest. No longer lulled to sleep by its steady beating.

That thought rattles you more than any crime Seungcheol could commit.

It takes Seungcheol's thumb grazing over your cheekbone to realize you're crying. But then it becomes unstoppable. More worries spilling out in the form of tears. It's the not knowing that may be the end of you.

"I want you in this lifetime, Cheol. I don't want to wait until the next to live a full life with you. So I need you to keep that promise."

Seungcheol rises from his seat and brings you into his chest. Allowing you to hide away from the horrors of it all in his strong embrace. "There's nothing I wouldn't do to make it home to you." He reassures. And the sheer determination in his voice makes you believe him.

"And no more secrets, okay?" You mumble against the soft fabric of his shirt. "I want you to tell me everything."

"It's better if I don't." He whispers with a deep exhale. And you want to be more upset with his answer than you are. But he keeps rocking you side to side and pressing long kisses to your temple.

"All you need to know is that none of it comes before you." The sincerity in his voice is as prominent as it was reciting his vows. "Everything I've built. All the money and power in the world— I'd burn it all to the ground for you."

[greengoblinswifey]

Transactional—Hwang In Ho/Front Man x Fem!Reader

summary— The Front Man offers you freedom in exchange for something you hadn’t expected and your decision leads to something you had no idea would happen. Based on this request.

warnings— usual squid game shenanigans, power imbalance, slight coercion, degradation, face fucking, strip tease, cunnilingus, degradation, ass slapping, hair pulling, praise kink, unprotected sex, cock warming, creampie, pregnancy, mentions of abortion.

a/n— I see you guys’ requests, patience🫶🏽more soon.

The Front Man slowly sipped his expensive whiskey, eyes focused on the monitors as he watched the Squid Games unfold.

Some would call him sick but he quite enjoyed watching the desperation and suffering of the players. It fueled him and he looked forward to new games everyday.

He chuckled at the stupidity of the players when majority opted for ‘one more game’ instead of just going home with the money they had accumulated. Their stupidity, his entertainment.

As he scanned them each walking up to push the X or O button, his eyes landed upon you. For a moment, his breath caught as he stared. You were ethereal, the most beautiful woman that had ever graced his eyes.

Now, he wasn’t even focused on Gi-hun anymore. His focus was on you. You infiltrated his mind and he needed to save you from the game before something terrible happened. Though, it wasn’t just his need to be your savior that fueled him. He was pent up—unable to remember the last time he stuck his dick in a pretty girl like you.

That night, he held an important meeting with the guards. An idea had came to his mind to spice things up a bit.

That night, he instructed the pink guards to kidnap you from your bed quietly, so as to not alert the other players, especially not Gi-hun who had become a friend to you.

“Bring her here tonight. I have a proposal for her,” he said to the guards, darkly.

That night, after much twisting and turning, you were finally able to fall asleep. Your slumber was cut short as you felt gloved hands clasp over your mouth. Your scream was muffled as two guards grabbed you but you quickly became silent feeling the cold barrel of a gun press against your temple.

“We’re not here to hurt you, just be quiet. Someone wants to see you,” one of them said.

Your heart beat faster in your chest as they led you out of the dormitory. Who wanted to see you?

They led you through the maze and through hallways you had never seen before, each step making fear course through your veins. You had no idea what to expect from whoever wanted to see you. Meanwhile, the Front Man watched through the monitors as the guards brought you to him, each step closer leaving him eager.

The large door to his personal quarters slid open and you were brought inside before the guards left without a word. Stood before you was a man in all black and when he turned around, your breath hitched.

He was tall, older and handsome. You cursed yourself internally for that being your first thought but you couldn’t help yourself. Anyone would think the same if they saw the man before them.

“Good night,” he greeted, his deep voice making you shiver. “Enjoying yourself?”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. “Is that a serious question? And who the hell are you—wait, you’re the organizer of these games?” you asked, recognition in your tone.

“We’re not here to speak about that sweetheart but yes, any other questions you’d like to ask?” he said, stepping closer to you.

“Why am I here?” It was the only thing you could think to ask as he towered over you.

“As you’ve realized, I’m the organizer of this game. My name is Hwang In-ho and I have a proposal for you,” he replied.

You tilted your head and quirked your eyebrow, a thousand questions swarming your head but none being able to translate to actual words.

“The X on your uniform suggests you’re keen on leaving the game but since majority voted to stay, I have a different method in which you can leave.” He stepped closer now, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“To leave the game, you’ll have to have sex with me.” The moment the words left his lips your eyes widened in shock.

“T-to leave the game, I’ll have to let you fuck me?” you repeated.

“If that’s how you want to word it, but yes,” he retorted, a smile tugging at his lips. “It’s entirely your decision. You let me fuck you and you leave the game, you refuse and I send you back safe and sound.”

Safe and sound. You scoffed, he was sending you back there to die. Was it really your decision considering the situation you were in? You truly had no other choice. If you refused, you’d be sent back to continue the cycle of ‘one more game’ until you lost s game and died. You didn’t have much fight in you left, this was your only option and it seemed more plausible than going back to more than likely end up dying.

On the other hand, if you decided to take In-ho up on his offer, you would return home safe. You stared up at him, eyes flossing over his sharp yet soft features. He wasn’t hard to look at. In fact, you could picture him above you. You could picture him having those large hands all over you, his hand wrapped around your neck, his cock—

“You’re biting your lip,” In-ho said, snapping you out of your thoughts.

Your cheeks heated as you looked away from him, he could probably tell what your answer was by your reaction.

“You can take a long warm shower and later, inform me of your decision,” he added.

He gestured to the bathroom and you walked inside meekly, your eyes landing on some new clothes neatly folded on the counter. He seemed to have it all planned out, you admired a man that knew what he wanted and went after it, you had to give him that.

Stepping into the shower, you allowed the warm water to engulf you and wash away the weight you had been carrying the last few days. You scrubbed yourself thoroughly, remembering how blood would splatter on your skin after a player had been shot. Thinking about the incident made you shudder, you needed to escape. This was the opportunity you had been hand picked to be given and you decided that you had to take it.

After a long shower, you dressed yourself in the clothes In-ho had laid out for you. It was a cute dress that hugged your figure. Strategic—but you weren’t mad at it.

As you stepped out of the bathroom, In-ho’s eyes landed on you. His eyes roamed your figure, not even being subtle about it.

“I’ve made my decision,” you said.

“Already? Well then, what is it?”

You sighed, telling yourself it was just this once and you truly had no other choice.

“I’ll have sex with you in exchange for my freedom,” you whispered, eyes dropping to the floor.

“Oh, don’t be shy sweetheart, you’re going to be my slut,” he murmured, “and say it louder. Use your voice as much as you can now, because by the time I’m finished with you, you won’t have a voice from how much I’ve made you moan.”

Your breath caught at his words but you couldn’t deny the way it made your core throb. “I’ll fuck you in exchange for my freedom.”

“Good girl. So obedient for me already. I’m going to have so much fun with you, a pretty girl shouldn’t be in this hell hole,” he cooed. “First, I want you to get on your knees and crawl to me.”

His request made your heart drop. It felt so degrading yet thrilling. Adrenaline and pure lust ran through you and your gaze locked on his as you went on your knees and crawled to him. You crawled slowly but seductively, watching as he adjusted himself in the couch.

When you finally reached his feet, his hands went to your cheek, caressing it. “That’s a good girl. Next, I want you to unbuckle my pants and pull my cock out.”

With shaky hands, you did as you were told unbuckling his pants and when you reached his boxers, you paused. The dent told you everything you needed to know—he was aroused. And by the looks of it, he wasn’t a small man. He lifted his hips, allowing you to pull his underwear down and you gasped as his cock sprang free, slapping against his abdomen.

You’d never seen such a pretty cock and you cursed the thought for infiltrating your mind even though it was true. In-ho was long and hard, surely to hit all the right spots deep inside you. You wrapped your hand around the base and bit your lip feeling him throb.

“Suck my cock and show me just how bad you want to get out of here,” he whispered, his tone dark.

With that, you took him into your mouth, feeling him stretch your jaw open. The sounds of his pleasure willed you on, and you began to move your head, sending him to the back of your throat, lost in the rhythm of pleasing him. “That’s it, just like that,” In-ho groaned, his hands tangling in your hair, urging you on.

The gliding of your tongue across the thick shaft sent shivers through him. You could feel his balls twitch, and his thighs tensed beneath your hands. You moved to trailing your lips along the side of his cock, before meeting his dark eyes that stared down at you. His chest was rising and falling with every breath he took, and you could tell he was trying to hold back from losing control.

“You’re so good at this angel, fuck, so dirty.” You moaned around his cock, then took it out of your mouth to spit on it. Sticking your tongue out, you looked up at him as you slapped his cock against it and he held your hair in response, his head tipping back.

With his fingers in your curls, he dragging your mouth up and down his shaft before he started thrusting. You gagged but he didn’t stop, if anything, he sped up but only after giving you a minute to breathe. You could feel his cock twitch down your throat and you began massaging his balls, tears in your eyes as his thrusts increased.

“Swallow my cum like a good girl. Show me how bad you want to get out of here,” his deep voice said.

You took him to the back of your throat, and stroked what didn’t fit as you felt the salty taste of cum fill your mouth. Without hesitation, you swallowed, humming around his cock and sending jolts of pleasure through him.

Pulling you up by your hair, he kissed you, savoring the taste of his own release.

“You did well. I’m thoroughly impressed,” he chuckled.

He pulled you off your knees, his hands roaming your sides and caressing your curves before he squeezed your ass.

“Strip.” His voice left no room for disobedience and you did as you were told, slowly and seductively ridding yourself of the clothing he had generously gave to you.

His dark gaze drank in the sight before him and by the smirk on his face, he was utterly impressed. As he stood up, he held under your ass, hoisting you against him and walking with you to what you assumed to be the bedroom.

It was dimly lit and large but you had no time to admire it as he threw you on the bed. “Let’s see if you taste as delectable as you look.”

His lips pressed against your abdomen, trailing kisses until he reached your clit, spreading your legs and kissing further and further.

“You’re soaked, so wet for me,” he murmured, using his tongue to collect your wetness and spitting it back onto your pussy.

A soft moan escaped your lips, the feeling of his warm mouth on your pussy the best thing you'd ever felt these last few days.

“Your moans are so sweet angel."

He dived in, flicking his tongue on your clit before bringing it down to your leaking hole and licking back up. His grip was firm on your thighs, spreading them wide as he continued. You couldn’t believe the utter pleasure you were feeling, he was so skilled with his tongue having you squirm underneath him and moan so loudly, you feared the guards would hear.

His tongue was practically inside you, tonguing you and moving back up to suck on your clit. As his movements increased, the coil in your abdomen grew tighter, ready to burst.

“Cum on my tongue beautiful, be a good little slut.” A loud gasp left your lips and your body lifted from the bed as he practically took your soul and you squirted onto his face, soaking him. He slurped you up like a starving man and you squirmed under his touch, your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“You’re so beautiful when you cum and you taste just as good as you look,” he panted.

Feeling bold, you pulled him up into a kiss, his mouth soaked in your juices. His head moved down to your full breasts, suckling and moaning as your fingers tangled in his silky hair.

"So eager sweetheart. Beg me to fuck you, let me hear how bad you want to leave this place," he teased.

"Please In-ho," you whined, "Please fuck me, I want your cock so fucking bad."

Swiftly, he sank into you, but halted, allowing your tight pussy to adjust to his size.

“Shit,” you moaned, as he took your breath away, “you’re so fucking big.”

“I know baby, but you better take it like a good girl if you want to leave,” he whispered, reaching down and rubbing your clit to ease the tension.

As you adjusted, he slammed into you, burying his cock to the hilt. Your moans filled the kitchen as he began moving at a pace that had your toes curling and your fingers gripping the sheets.

With how he was pounding into you, your pussy surely would remember the shape of his cock. You could feel him deep inside your cervix his cock twitching and your pussy throbbing. His large hand snaked around your neck as your foreheads touched, small trickles of sweat mingling. He worked his hips into you, your mouth in an ‘O’ as you breathlessly moaned with him slamming into you.

“You feel fucking amazing, best pussy I’ve ever had,” he panted.

You cried out in response and he pulled out his cock, slapping the heavy tip on your clit making you jolt. As soon as it made contact with your clit, you squirted, your juices spurting all over his cock. He slipped back in and as you tightened around him, you felt something warm and sticky fill you up.

"This pussy feels too good not to cum inside. Fuck, don’t move, I'm not finished with you yet."

He flipped you on your stomach and sank into you from behind, slapping your ass as he did.

“This ass,” he moaned, “you should see how good you look from this angle.”

His hips snapped against your ass, pounding you as your back arched deeper. You whimpered loudly and did your best to please him, slamming your ass back against him, his cock brushing that sweet spot deep inside you.

He gripped your curls, using it as an anchor to slam into you faster and harder.

“God, you’re clenching around me so tight, cum on my cock,” he moaned.

You buried your face into the bed, crying out as you shuddered and squirted around him, your arousal dripping down to his sheets. With one last powerful stroke, you felt something warm and sticky fill you up again.

He pulled out slowly, a deep moan escaping his lips before he collapsed on the bed beside you. He pulled you on top of him, plugging your pussy with his cock, not letting a drop of his cum go to waste.

“You did so well. You made a good decision,” he whispered in your ear.

For the rest of the night he held you close with his cock buried deep inside you. By morning, you were too sore and fucked out to even move.

You sat up in bed as you heard the door open, watching as In-ho approached you with breakfast. Softly, you thanked him and began eating, unable to make eye contact after the night you had with him.

“As promised, you can leave the game tonight. I’ll give you some cash and my contact so we can—keep in touch.” As he said those last words, his eyes fell to your bare chest.

Later that night, a deep sudden sleep took ahold of you without you being able to fight it. In your slumber, In-ho kissed your forehead, allowing the guards to take you off the island and back home with a wad of cash he generously gave you. He knew he’d eventually see you again but he hadn’t expected it to be for a completely different reason than what he had in mind.

Sunshine peaked through your window, shining on your face as you slowly opened your eyes. Looking around, you realized you were back home and in your own bed. In-ho actually kept his promise. Your eyes widened at the brief case of cash that lay on the bed beside you. For the first time in your life, fucking a man actually benefited you.

For the next couple weeks, you paid off whatever debts you had and made upgrades to your life. You earned that money and you’d spend it however you saw fit. Your happy streak didn’t last long though as each morning, you grew sicker and sicker.

It was terrible, you were barely able to eat as even the smell of food had you dashing to the bathroom and bending over the toilet, vomiting.

You weren’t sure what was wrong with you so, you decided to pay a quick visit to a doctor. Your doctor ran a variety of tests and informed you that you’d be given your results in a few days.

The days passed in a blur of overwhelming fatigue and nausea. If the games hadn’t killed you, this definitely would.

Finally, you received a call from your doctor about your results.

“Congratulations!” she beamed over the phone and your eyes furrowed in confusion. “You’re pregnant, just a few weeks along.”

The phone fell from your hands and you heard the muffled voice of your doctor asking if everything was alright. You were pregnant. Having only had sex with one person a few weeks ago, you knew exactly who the father was—Hwang In-ho.

You didn’t know what to do. A life was growing inside you, a life you weren’t sure if you wanted to keep or nurture. Absentmindedly, you dialed the number In-ho had given you. After just two rings, you heard his deep voice answer.

“Sweetheart, I’ve been waiting on your call,” he said, a smirk evident in his tone.

“In-ho, I-I’m pregnant,” you spat out.

There was a silence on the other end before he spoke again. “You’re pregnant? Shit, I should’ve known.”

“Yeah, you should’ve,” you snapped. “You came inside me twice and had your dick in me all night. What did you think was going to happen? Now, I’m stuck with something I don’t know what to do with.”

He sighed and paced his quarters. “Listen to me. It was never my intention to have that happen, trust me. But whatever decision you make whether to keep the baby or not, I’ll support you. In fact, I’ll be at your apartment by tonight.”

His words provided a sense of strange comfort for you. Having him over would give you all the answers you needed. You weren’t sure whether you wanted to keep the baby or abort it. None of this was supposed to happen, you fucked him to escape the game, not to have him impregnate you.

“Okay In-ho. Thank you for being understanding, I’ll see you tonight.”

After hanging up, you sat on the new expensive couch you had bought using the money In-ho gave you. Your life had been a roller coaster the last three months, but somehow, In-ho’s words and actions was the calm in the face of the storm. In some twisted way, he was perfect. And you knew if you decided to keep the baby, he would be the perfect father.

[eufezco]

just a little fluff + angst scenario i wrote because we don't have enough content of logan x reader looking after laura and the three of them forming a family.

english isn't my first language. marvel masterlist <3

—laura, go back to the couch —. logan grunted.

she had opened the door to your room and her head was peeking out. her big brown eyes stared at you. you were in bed, tucked in, waiting for logan to lie down next to you. the dim light from your bedside table was the only thing lighting up the room.

—don't make me tell you again, kid.

—it's fine, lo —. you grabbed his arm and stopped him as he was going to the door to close it. logan huffed. —is everything okay, laura? —you sweetly asked the little girl.

she simply stood in the doorway, biting the inside of her cheeks. laura looked at your bed, if logan lay down there wasn't much more space left but if you squeezed in a little bit maybe she could… logan called your name and shook his head. the little girl looked at you from the door with big dark eyes, glossy with exhaustion and decorated with small dark circles underneath them.

the night before logan and you woke up to her screams. you ran to the living room, followed by him, both scared that the men who wanted to hurt her might have entered your house. but laura was having a nightmare. when you knelt next to the couch and shook her gently to wake her up, she pulled out her claws in panic and cut you on the arm.

you hissed, watching as the blood began to run down your arm. she was more terrified by what she just did than you were.

it's okay, i'm okay, laura. look, it's nothing. are you okay? were you having a bad dream?

the girl nodded to your questions, her eyes could only stare at your arm, bleeding nonstop. logan knelt next to you and grabbed your arm to take a better look. he then looked at the girl, you could see on his face that he was angry. you put your other hand on top of the one he had holding your arm. i'm okay you assured him. his expression relaxed when he realized that with your eyes you were asking him not to blame laura. he walked you to the kitchen to clean your wound and then covered it with a bandage.

it wasn't her fault, lo. you told him and he looked at you in disbelief. he went to your room without saying a word to laura and you kissed her forehead after tucking her in. no matter how much you assured her that you were fine and that it had been an accident, laura didn't sleep at all that night, thinking that she had hurt one of the two people who cared about her the most.

but this night she was at your door as you looked at logan with your lips pressed together. he called your name again. —don't —. he spoke firmly. but how could you say no to the little one? she hadn't asked you anything yet you knew exactly what she wanted.

there was a few seconds of silence.

—you wanna sleep here? —you finally asked.

laura nodded and logan grunted. she was quick to enter the bedroom and close the door behind her. she was wearing a t-shirt of logan's that she almost dragged on the floor. she liked his t-shirts better because they were bigger and she could curl up in them while sleeping.

she went to lie down between the two of you but logan was quicker and took her place. laura huffed and you rolled your eyes. it was like dealing with two small children. but there was no way he was going to sleep apart from you, not even separated by an eleven-year-old girl.

laura ended up curling up next to you in bed and before turning off the light, you made sure that she was well covered by the blankets. she subtly moved closer to you, hiding her head in your chest, and she did not take more than five minutes to fall asleep. you didn't take long to fall asleep either, following the girl's deep breathing and playing with her hair.

the next morning logan was the first to wake up. your back was against his chest, one of his arms was hugging you against his body. well, one of his arms was hugging you both against his body. his arm not only reached you but laura too, who lay with her back against your chest as you hugged her from the back.

as he went to get up to make breakfast, he felt how some small fingers closed around his big ones and kept him from getting out of bed. he looked at the little girl sleeping peacefully, letting you be her big spoon while she held logan's fingers tightly in her hand.

he lay next to you on the bed again, he could afford to stay there a little longer just to spend some more time with his two girls.

[rafecameronssl4t]

Im so obsessed with all your canon fics AND ur rafe x thorton!reader 😭 are u able to do one based off s2 ep 8 where topper is tryna look for his sister at tannyhill even though rafe and reader had a huge argument and weren’t on speaking terms and rafe gets all protective when topper says “I’ll just track her”

Tracked || Rafe Cameron x Thorton!reader

idk where this gif is from soz :(

A/n: thank uuuuuuu 💗 hope u like this :)

Warnings: slut-shaming, swearing, if there’s anything else lmk

Word count: 745

MASTERLIST (rafe x thornton!reader au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

"It's seven feet high, plated in gold, and encrusted with diamonds. What do you think?" The guy's tone dripped with condescension. Rafe's eyes narrowed as he scoffed, "I was just asking."

The low rumble of an approaching vehicle drew their attention. The sound grew louder until a high-rise car came into view, gliding to a stop nearby. The door opened with a careful click, and out stepped Topper.

"Shit," Rafe muttered under his breath. He straightened up, eyes narrowing further as Topper approached. "Hey, Rafe," Topper greeted, his voice attempting to be calm but betraying a hint of nervousness. "I've got no beef, man. I'm just looking for Y/n."

At the mention of your name, Rafe's expression darkened, a deep frown setting on his lips. His jaw clenched as he took a step forward, practically bristling with irritation. "Y/n's not here," he snapped, each word dripping with disdain. "Go find her somewhere else."

He waved a dismissive hand, already turning his back on Topper, clearly uninterested in continuing the conversation. Topper furrowed his eyebrows, confusion and frustration evident on his face. "What do you mean, Y/n's not here? She's nowhere else on this goddamn island." Rafe looked at him in disbelief. "How would I know where your sister is, huh?"

Topper opened his mouth to retort but then shut it, the words dying on his lips. Rafe's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and hurt. "And one thing you should know, Top," Rafe's voice was calm, though his expression remained hard, "I got nothing against you, even though you totally punked me the other night."

Topper scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. "Really? Were you too coked-out to remember slut-shaming my sister?" His hands flew to his head in a mocking gesture, mimicking a crazy person.

Rafe's expression darkened instantly at Topper's words. He lunged forward aggressively, forcing Topper to retreat a step. "Slut-shaming? I wasn't slut-shaming her," Rafe spat back, his voice growing louder and more defensive with each word. "I was provoked, all right?" His frustration was palpable as he took a few more menacing steps forward, his eyes blazing with anger.

Topper nervously wetted his lips, sensing the volatile energy in the air. "All right, man," he muttered, attempting to defuse the escalating tension as he backed toward his car.

Rafe's anger flared, his eyes burning with intensity. "You think I want her hanging around those fucking pogues? Huh?" he shouted, his voice dripping with rage and disdain. Topper stopped in his tracks, turning back to face him.

"Is that what you really think?" Rafe continued, his voice rising with every word. "Your sister is on a pedestal, and she keeps stooping low to hang out with those pogues!" His rant echoed in the tense silence, each word laced with venom. Topper stayed silent, his expression unreadable.

"Is that where she is? Is she with those pogues?" Topper finally questioned, his annoyance simmering just below the surface, the idea gnawing at him. "Where the hell else would she be? Huh?" Rafe walked toward Topper, his tone mocking. "Unless she found some other sucker. Yeah?" He spat, his anger evident. Topper shook his head, a realization dawning on him.

"I can just track her," Topper suddenly realized, pulling out his phone as he walked back to his car. "I completely forgot. I can track her on my phone."

Rafe's eyebrows furrowed as he watched Topper. "What? Are you spying on her?" he demanded, his voice rising with suspicion, his eyes narrowing.

"No, I'm not spying on her!" Topper snapped, exhaling sharply in frustration. "She's my sister, and I care about her. I just want to make sure she's okay after that stunt you pulled on her the other day."

Rafe slowly nodded, his lips pursed in thought. As Topper reached for his car door, his fingers brushing the handle, Rafe lunged forward and yanked the phone out of his hand.

"Jeez, give me my phone back," Topper argued, his voice tinged with irritation and a hint of desperation. He reached out, trying to grab the phone, but Rafe held it just out of his reach, a smirk playing on his lips.

"What? Calm down, all right? Just wanna make amends with her." Rafe chuckled, his tone mocking. He glanced at the screen, his expression unreadable, "What the hell is she doing on the cut?" He scoffed, rolling his tongue against his cheek before tossing the phone back at Topper and turning away.

"Rafe!" Topper called out, frustration and desperation mingling in his voice. Rafe didn't stop. "Go home, Top," he called back, his voice fading as he walked away.

~

"I can't believe he did that!" You cried out, tears streaming down your cheeks as Pope patted your back gently, and JJ handed you another tissue. "In front of all those people, too," you sniffled, feeling a mix of hurt and disbelief.

"What he did was pretty fucked up, but it showed his true colors, right?" Pope said, his tone hopeful, trying to offer some perspective as you shook your head. The two boys exchanged a look of concern. "No, no, that wasn't him that night," you said quietly, your fingers fidgeting with your ring. "You're right, it was the devil—" JJ began, but you cut him off sharply.

"No, JJ. He was high out of his mind. I-I thought he only did it occasionally, but..." Your voice faltered, overwhelmed with disappointment and confusion. This time, Pope interjected gently. "Y/n, he's always been a coke addict. You just never noticed," Pope said softly, his words carrying the weight of a truth that was hard to accept.

“But still—” You’re abruptly cut off by JJ, who shushes you sharply. “That’s rude—” you start again, only to be silenced once more as JJ places a firm finger on your lips. You stare at him, puzzled. “Did you guys hear that?” he whispers, his eyes darting around.

“I think someone’s here.” Pope and JJ exchange a serious glance and immediately get to their feet. “Stay here,” JJ instructs firmly. You sniffle and nod, whispering, “‘kay”

“Where the fuck is she?” Rafe’s voice echoes, the door slamming shut behind him. “She doesn’t want to see you, man,” JJ interjects firmly as Rafe scoffs incredulously.“Yeah, she—she tell you that, huh?” Rafe’s disbelief is palpable as he glares at the two friends.

“Y/n! Come out! I know you’re in there!” Rafe’s voice grows louder and more desperate from outside. Inside, you sit up at the sound of his plea. “I told you, she doesn’t—” JJ starts, but Rafe cuts him off sharply.

“Shut the fuck up, pogue,” Rafe groaned in frustration, his patience wearing thin as he glanced between JJ and Pope. “Listen, I just need to talk to her, okay? I’m not gonna do anything, she’s my fucking girlfriend,” he insisted, his voice carrying a mix of exasperation and longing, pleading for understanding.

JJ and Pope exchange a glance, their expressions hesitant and protective. “Not a chance—” JJ starts to say, but you cut in decisively, causing all three of them to turn and look at you. “It’s fine,” you call out, your voice steady yet laced with emotion. You meet Rafe’s softened gaze, swallowing hard before continuing. “You want to talk? I’m right here, Rafe. Talk.”

[dreaisgrayte]

First Kisses With the Hashira

Includes: Gyomei Himijima, Tengen Uzui, Sanemi Shinazugawa, Obanai Iguro, Giyuu Tomioka, Kyojuro Rengoku, Mitsuri Kanroji, Shinobu Kocho Synopsis: What would your first kiss with the Hashira be like? {I did not include Muichiro even though this was mainly fluff} warnings: kisses! so many kisses! A little suggestive in some parts, but only if you squint, very wholesome and fluffy!

Gyomei Himejima

Gyomei is super tall, so you practically had to – with red cheeks – ask him to bend down so you could kiss him

When you managed to place your lips on his Gyomei was pleased to find how gentle you were

Gyomei found himself selfishly thinking for once

He lifts you onto the table, trapping you with a muscled arm on either side of your thighs. He groans as your lips work against his. Gyomei might not be able to see, but he could feel right where you wanted him to be. He was leaning over you, his massive back completely obscuring you from view. “You are making me break concentration.” He finally mutters out, his eyes squeezed shut. “You are dangerous YN,” He pauses, opening up his glazed white eyes to meet yours. He knew exactly where you were even without sight. “The way my heart beats in my chest for you… is dangerous.”

Tengen Uzui

Tengen thinks you’re joking at first, clapping you on the back like one of his pals with a loud guffaw while you both sit at a table.

He realizes he's made a grave mistake only after your bottom lip starts to tremble.

Your cheeks are flushed and tears are running down your face.

Tengen leans into your eyesight, an apologetic grin making his face scrunch hilariously. You roll your eyes and huff out a laugh. “There’s my girl,” Tengen’s grin widens, then after a small beat, his brows furrow. “Are you sure?” He’s asking you so gently and in a way like he’s unsure of himself. You nod and that’s all the conformation Uzui needs before he’s cupping your face, guiding your mouths together in a sweet, yet passionate kiss. His face twitches with emotion when you part, a small gasp escaping your lips as you peer into his conflicted magenta eyes. Did he not enjoy it? “I think my wife count just went up,” He states with all the seriousness in the world present on his face. You burst out laughing and hit his shoulder.

“You do not mean that!” You giggle, but he shakes his head and rolls his lips into his mouth. He hums, looking at you with possessive intent. 

“No, I do.”

Sanemi Shinazugawa

Sanemi had just finished a mission, dragging himself through the gates of his main mansion. 

When he sees you, in a tiny lilac-colored apron his brain nearly short-circuits. 

You were so cute – too cute in fact – it was going to kill him one day. 

You shyly presented him with a batch of fresh red bean mochi, twiddling your thumbs as he gawked at the ensemble. 

Sanemi sets the plate down, walking toward you until your back is flush against a wall. You nervously glance around, trying to decipher if this was going to be the last thing you ever saw. “Thank you,” His voice is gruff, but his face floods with a deep pink color. He’s covering his face with the back of his arm and you suddenly wish this was the last thing you’d ever see. 

You can’t help yourself as you slowly reach out to grab the back of his neck and pull him into a sweet kiss. He licks at your lips and a smile forms against your mouth. “You taste like red bean mochi,” He smirks. 

“You took a while.”

Obanai Iguro

Obanai was somewhat preoccupied with training as you yelled out his name

He came running up next to you, his head tilted in question as to what you wanted

You quickly peck Obanai on the area of his mask where his mouth should be, stumbling back in amazement that you went through with it. Obanai is equally as shocked, his brows raised and his body stiff. You’re about to turn and leave when he catches your wrist. “Oh no you don’t,” He tuts, yanking you back into his arms. “I think you forgot something.” He pulls down the top edge of his mask until his lips and a bit of his scars are revealed. You revel in how beautiful this man is as he leans down to kiss you deeply. 

Giyuu Tomioka

Giyuu was reading a book with adept concentration. You were slightly annoyed by the fact you came all the way here just to be ignored by this man.

So you crawl over his lap, grab the edge of the book, push it down, and lean over to kiss him

When you break away from this kiss Giyuu’s face is a stark contrast to the once pale skin. His deep blue eyes are wide, lips parted as a trail of spit still connects your mouth to his. He sets his book down – the thought of reading lost to the thought of doing that again with you. His fingertips gingerly touch the skin of his lips once, like he believes it to be a figment of his imagination. “Can we… can we do that again?” He asks, excitedly leaning toward you. 

You roll your eyes and laugh, pushing at his face. “Oh so now you want to pay attention to me?”

Kyojuro Rengoku

Kyojuro is all over the place

He’s the one that first leans into you with too much force, bonking your foreheads together

He’s nervous, excited, and in love. To you that’s all that mattered

Kyojuro rests his forehead against yours, breathing heavier than usual. “YN, can I kiss you again?” He pleads, yearning to make the first kissing experience the two of you share as perfect as possible. You laugh brightly, pecking both of his cheeks and the tip of his nose before nodding your head. Kyojuro couldn’t think about anything else except how lucky he must be to have you in his life. He slowly brings his lips to yours, pressing into you ever so slowly as to not rush like last time. It’s a fiery hot kiss only seconds after the tantalizing brush of his lips. 

Mitsuri Kanroji

Mitsuri didn’t know how to react when you explained that kissing her was something you’d enjoy

She thought you were stunning, prettier than here even – which you had to shut down right away

Mitsuri hadn’t given much thought to acting on her attraction to you, but just hearing you utter the words made her whole mind swim

She’s going into one of her overthinking episodes, squealing about how you shouldn’t kiss her because then she’d want to hold your hand and go on dates with you and-

You grab the sides of her face, bringing your lips to hers. The kiss is mildly awkward at first because Mitsuri is too stunned to move, but once she melts into your embrace and your bodies move in tandem, it turns into something beautiful. Her lips are soft and remind you of eating a strawberry. You’re the one to part ways first, leaving her breathless as she maintains eye contact with your lips. “I think I’d like to do that again…” She blurts. 

Shinobu Kocho

Shinobu was tactful and precise about when you two would bump into each other

She planned the perfect time to finally ask you to share in some intimacy with her

So when you popped up at the Butterfly Mansion battered from a training session, you could say you threw more than a wrench in her plans

Shinobu’s bright eyes widen when she sees you limping inside the infirmary. “Y-YN?” She assesses the situation, rushing to gather material to dress your bruises. You don’t have to say much before she’s rubbing salve into your shoulders and down your back. Her hands and cold, but they feel wonderful as she works the sap into your muscles. “What did you get yourself into?” She grunts from behind. You chuckle softly, wincing at the ache spreading across your stomach. You don’t know what takes over your mind, but you lean back into Shinobu. She’s surprised but adjusts to hold you regardless. “What am I going to do with you?” She sighs.

“Put me out of my misery?” You suggest, earning a jab from her into your sore ribcage. You groan but then a sly smirk works its way onto your lips. “I think for being such a good patient I deserve a reward.” You tease. What you don’t expect is Shinobu to purse her lips and while her cheeks fade to a pink she leans down to kiss your lips. 

“Is that good enough?” She huffs, glancing away. 

“I’m not sure, I was kind of hoping for some mochi,” You giggle. Shinobu glares at you. “On second thought, it appears there would be nothing sweeter than another few thousand kisses from you…” That’s all it takes for Shinobu’s lips to be back on yours. A sweet, simple, and lovely kiss. If it weren’t for the way she worked the salve into your muscles, you might’ve mistaken her kisses to be what healed you the next day.  

[seventeenpins]

new rules

pairing: ex!Worst!Logan Howlett x f!reader word count: 2.7k summary: You've been broken up for long enough. It shouldn't be this hard to stay away. content/warnings: smut, angst, Logan's a disaster alcoholic, suicidal ideation, unhealthy relationships, big dick a/n: I didn't expect the Logan bug to bite me, but here I am, horny for this old man, writing a songfic in the year of our lord two thousand twenty four. Dua Lipa's "New Rules" came on shuffle and I needed to make it about our big boy. Thank you to the loml @ozarkthedog for being the best human alive and also for hyping me up, reading it thru, and telling me "it made me actually want to try to fix him" 😅

You’re in your pajamas, toothbrush in hand and moisturizer shining on your face, when the screen of your phone lights up. You wince when you see the contact name.

DO NOT PICK UP

You watch as it rings out, and you exhale when the comfort of the black screen returns.

And then it lights up again.

Just ignore it. Just ignore it.

As you’re spitting your toothpaste into the sink, the screen lights up again, DO NOT PICK UP flashing across.

It’s a bad idea. It’s always a bad idea. 

But as it lights up a fourth time, you hit accept. As you bring the phone to your ear, you already know what you’re going to say; you need to stop calling like this; have you been drinking?; this isn’t going to happen again–

And then you hear his voice. It’s just a single word, and comes out more as a croak than anything else.

“Hi, baby-”

Just like the first time. The third. The five hundredth. It makes you fucking melt, makes your body heat and your stomach flip.

“Hi Logan.”

—

“It’s been too long, sweetheart-” 

“Yeah, well-” you sigh. You know how this always goes. “I told you not to call.”

“But you answered.” 

Even over the line he sounds smug. You wish you could punch him, god, if only. But you knew from past experience that his adamantium bones and entirely unfair regenerative powers would leave him perfectly unblemished, while you nursed a broken hand.

“Sooo-,” you venture, “Is there something you need?”

It was better to play clueless, you reasoned; You weren’t gonna jump the gun. You would make him spell it out.

"Just you, hon,” his voice is low and dangerous and you think you might really hate him this time.

“You know it’s nearly midnight, don’t you? Are you ever gonna call me when you’re sober?”

You hear a noncommittal grunt on the other end.

“What do you want, Logan?”

He takes a deep breath.

“Can I come over? I’ve just been missing you. Been a rough day.”

“No.”

“Please, baby? I need you. Please?”

You close your eyes and exhale. Ten calls ago, you might have tried to hide the frustration, but you’re well beyond that now.

It’s always a bad idea. Always makes you remember the bits of him you miss desperately. Your nights together. How you still fucking love him.

“Can take care of you, princess-“ he pleads.

“I hate when you call me that. And no, you can’t. You can’t even take care of yourself, Howlett.”

He huffs a laugh. “Been doin’ alright a couple hundred years. Keepin’ myself alive.”

You don’t want to say the question neither of you will acknowledge.

Is this really living?

“Fine. You can come over.”

“I’ll be there in five.”

“Motherfucker-! Have you been on your way this whole time, Lo?”

With a snort, he ends the call.

He’s on you before you can even get the door closed behind you. His hands are cradling your head as he kisses you deeply. You were right; he tastes like cheap whiskey. And cigarettes, you realize. Fucking cigarettes. And then you remember– he’s all but abandoned his cigars, as though the pain of losing a vice was part of his penance. 

With an awkward foot you try to hook the bridge of your foot along the edge of the door, pull at it, but instead of closing it you just overbalance, tumbling further into him.

He catches you as if it was nothing, as if he were so innately steady he’d always be there to break your fall.

When he has you back on your feet, he gets right back to it, tearing at your clothing and his, pulling your top over your head, fumbling with the drawstring of your bottoms. He cups your breasts, pinching and teasing, and walks you backwards till the backs of your knees hit the foot of your bed and you tumble. 

Logan tumbles with you, his hold on you never ceasing, and now you can feel how hard he is against you.

It sends a shiver down your spine.

You’ve missed this. Fuck you’ve missed this. What kind of self-destructive dumbass judgment were you letting rule you? 

You need to gain some control back.

“Condom,” you tell him. 

He rolls his eyes.

“I’m not joking, Logan. Should still be in the top drawer.”

He exhales with a chuckle, but pulls his beater over his head and lets you get an eyeful of his toned chest before leaning over and sliding the drawer open.

Then, he rummages around, pulling back with a shit-eating grin. 

In his hand is a roll of condoms, classic fit.

“You got a little boyfriend?” he asks, and you feel your face heat.

“Shut the fuck up, Logan.”

“Now I’m not seeing the Magnum’s in here. You sure you still have them? Or are you so busy fucking dumbass boys with little pricks that you can’t even bother to pick up the phone?”

“The condoms are just in case– better to be prepared– and besides it’s none of your fucking business if I’m sleeping with anyone else!”

“You know I can’t get STIs, right?”

You do know. You remember that first conversation years ago. You grit your teeth.

“And if you’re so worried,” he continues, “I’ll buy you Plan B.”

“Move,” you tell him, and he scoots back so you can look in the drawer yourself. Much to your chagrin, he’s right. Not a single gold packet in sight.

You groan, and he laughs.

You should tell him no. Should tell him that if he wants to fuck you, he needs to go out and get some. Because it’s not even the risk of any sort of transmission, or even the risk of pregnancy that gives you pause. It’s the intimacy. The way you can hardly bear it when you can feel him dripping out of you. The love you still have for him, even after everything. 

The way you know he still needs you, too. More than you need him. But after everything he’s done, everything he’s been through, everything he’s lost– you can’t bear to be another thing he loses, not fully.

But now he’s straddling you, scooting you backwards towards the head of the bed. His cock presses heavy against your thigh, and you’re so overwhelmed by the way he’s pressing kisses along your jaw and nibbling behind your ear, you barely notice as he lifts your hips to pull your panties down. His nails scrape down your back and the angry scratches start to bloom with heat. 

You don’t realize you’re both fully naked until you feel the heat from him press against you, the slick of his weeping cockhead dragging a trail just below your navel, down down down-

He strokes himself twice and lines himself up, pressing against your opening. You wait for the feeling, for the way he always slams inside you, but he surprises you. Presses the tip in and rocks himself gently, easing you open.

After a moment (and hardly a single inch) he pulls out and sits up.

For a gut-wrenching second, you think he’s changed his mind, and how fucking dare him? He’s not the one who gets to back out of this. Fuck.

But then his cock is replaced with his hand, and he pumps himself with his left, while pressing inside of you with his right, scissoring his fingers open, pulling whine and moan and gasp out of you, coaxing you along with his filthy mouth the whole way.

“Jesus Christ,” he sighs, letting out a groan when you squirm against him, “You’re tight as the first time I fucked you. Clearly no one’s been takin’ care of this pussy, huh?”

Two fingers become three, and you’re overwhelmed with sensation, pleasure taking over any rational thought.

“That’s it, honey, open up for me. Such a shame no one’s been fuckin’ you right. Would make you feel good every damn day if you’d let me.”

He rubs against your clit in unyielding circles and pulls you right to the edge. You feel yourself dripping, thighs trembling, and tears rolling down your face, but just as you’re about to cum he stops. He guides your arms upwards and pins you down by the wrists with one rough hand and leans over, caging you against the bed. In a second beat, he knocks your legs wide, baring you fully, and he presses himself in. You’re beyond slick and the glide is exquisite. The feeling of his bare cock pressing into you makes you shudder with arousal. The wiry hairs at the base of his cock grind against you, making you shake. 

He fucks you deep and slow. The drag is exquisite. He pulls almost the whole way out, before rocking back in again, his foreskin adding to the delicious glide. With every thrust he’s burying himself so deeply you’d swear you could feel him in your belly.

“You’re openin’ up so nice, takin’ it so good,” he growls, and you feel a thrill of pleasure bloom through your body at the praise. “Been missin’ this. Miss how soft you feel around me. Have you been missin’ your old man, too?”

You don’t even register he’s asked a question till his palm is swatting your jaw. It’s not painful, it doesn’t even sting. And it does exactly what he’d hoped; it refocuses you on him.

“Wha- What?” you ask, coming back to him, whilst feeling your peak build and build and build-

“Have you been missin’ your old man, princess? 

“Fuck you, Logan.”

“Use your words.”

“Yes-”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes I’ve been missing you. Stop looking at me like that, Lo. C’mon now, fuck me like you mean it.”

You can’t deal with him being sincere right now. You need it rough and you need it mean.

It takes him a moment to pull himself away but then he does, obliging as if he can read your thoughts. He pulls out, leans back, hooks your legs over his shoulders, and makes you moan as he folds you in half. He’s pressing so much deeper now than he had only a moment ago. Any gentleness that had been there disappears immediately.

He’s panting, letting out heavy grunts as he slams into you and sweat drips down his temple. 

As he fucks you, he drives into you cruelly but you match each thrust. Every time he knocks you back, you press against him harder and heavier. Make sure it hurts, for both of you.

He’s never been a selfish lover and makes you scream on his cock, cumming three times in rapid succession, each peak that little bit higher. Each peak is a little bit harder. 

You’re boneless and spent. When he cums inside you, his claws shoot out, angrily splintering existing notches on your headboard. Blood trickles down between his knuckles. One drop lands on your lips, the perfect kiss from this mess of a man. Another drop lands on your new linen pillowcase.

At least you got those tide pens. 

You want to tell him off about the headboard–the splintered edges are ugly and ragged. But the fact you hadn’t gotten a new headboard is kind of on you. It may as well be an invitation.

You add a note to your shopping list. Plan B.

—-

You wake up alone in a dark room. The first thing you see is your bedside alarm clock, red blinking numbers telling you it’s 3:12 AM. Then, you hear a rustling in your living room.

You step out to investigate, bleary-eyed, to find Logan silhouetted in front of your liquor cabinet, bottle of amber liquid in hand. He raises the bottle and takes a swig.

Back to this-

"Go home, Logan.” You tell him, and he startles at your voice.

"Baby- I been havin’ bad dreams-” 

You cut him off. "I’ll call you a cab. You’re not staying here, trying to drink yourself to death on my sofa-”

"Sweetheart,” he cuts in, “You know it never sticks-“ 

He says it with a grin like it means nothing, and it’s mean. Makes your stomach flip.

This is the closest either of you had ever gotten to the depths of it all. You’d both been pretending for so long.

You leave the room.

A minute later, you’re back, and Logan has emptied the bottle.

"Get dressed.” You toss his shirt at him. It smacks him in the face and falls unceremoniously to the floor. “Cab’s on its way. You owe me for the whiskey.”

He nods. His movement is loose, and you can see the booze is finally affecting him. More than just making him gutsy, it’s making him sloppy. Every movement is sluggish as he redresses.

"You wanna know why?” He asks, and it comes out slurred.

You ignore him. “I’ll walk you down. Get home safe, okay?”

He nods again. Looks like he’s trying to put on a show to prove just how sincere he is.

You kick his shoes towards him, and help him with his jacket when he struggles.

A horn honks outside, and you both look to the window. When you turn your head back, though, he’s only inches away from you, whiskey-breath across your cheek, and a wearier frown than he’s ever let you see before.

"When I drink I don’t dream-,“ he tells you, “Claws don’t come out.”

Then he kisses you on the cheek, turns on his heel with an unsteady sway, and leaves your home.

You struggle for hours to fall back asleep, the bed suddenly much too big.

You ignore his calls for a week. They come through later and later. Nine PM, ten. Midnight. Two.

And then one night you get a text. 

He’s rarely one for texting, so to see the notification makes your heart speed up and your stomach flip.

DO NOT PICK UP - Attachment: 1 Video

With a single, hesitant tap, you open it.

You’re not sure what you expected. Something dramatic, maybe? Something miserable? You hope to god he’s not figured out some way to make himself an adamantium bullet. It’s a fear that’s bounced around in your head for a while now, but you’d never ask just in case he hasn’t thought of it yet himself.

Whatever it is, though, it has to be something that will make your heart ache and your head spin and–

It’s anticlimactic. Kind of.

It’s just a video of him, phone angled to show him in his steamed-up mirror.

There are dark shadows beneath his red-rimmed eyes, but besides that, he looks as perfect as ever. You can’t see below his hips, but you know Logan and you know he’s fully naked. His body hair is slick, his skin glowing from being freshly showered.

This fucking asshole knows exactly how to get you.

You hit play. 

At first, you can barely tell it’s a video. And then you see the way his arm is moving. He’s holding his phone with one hand, his other casually stroking himself just below the frame of the video.

“You gonna stop ignoring me?” he asks, his voice a throaty purr. “Quit playing games. Get your ass over here and let me take care of you.”

AND, you realize with a twinge, you text with him so rarely, you never turned off read receipts.

Three dots appear and you know that he knows you’ve seen it. 

A moment later, the text comes through.

“Ready for you, princess.”

God, if only it would take more than that.

As if overtaken by a horny ghost, you’re already slipping your panties off and putting on your favorite skirt. 

You’re at his house an hour later. 

You let him guide you. Taste you. Fuck you. Fight with you. 

You let him devour you, and let yourself fall in with him, in with the guilt and the anger and the hate and self-pity.

And fuck, it’s the love, too. It never went away.