#I miss your smile I miss your smell I miss home I miss you

[leclarifies]

forgive and forget (CL16)

✰ charles leclerc x reader ✰

summary → dating a formula one driver meant that your boyfriend would always be busy, but what you didn't expect was for him to forget your anniversary all together.

genre → angst but gets fluffier towards the end (very short drabble, self-indulgent)

word count → 1.3k words

author's note → honestly, i really like writing angst with charles, i'm sorry dahbdhanda. i just needed a break from writing something with any sort of plot, so enjoy <3

the thunder in the background snapped me from my trance, i've been lost in thought for awhile now. the sky's dark and the day was almost ending, and here i was sitting at the dinner table, alone with food all around me.

the rain was drizzling in monaco, and it fueled the sinking hole in my chest. i knew that charles was a busy man, but i didn't expect him to forget our anniversary together.

somehow, i didn't feel sad, or disappointed. i just felt numb. it hurt of course, seeing your own boyfriend forgetting about your anniversary, something i thought that we would both celebrate together, spend the day together, or maybe just sit in the quiet of our apartment, kissing and touching and ending the day together.

but the fact of the matter was, he was a formula one driver and i couldn't keep expecting him to be there when i wanted. it was a selfish want, and somehow i needed to understand that not all anniversaries can be celebrated, and not all of them will be remembered.

a sigh escapes my lips, i've been waiting for him to come home for four hours now. maybe it was time to let up. i gently took the plates of now cold food and shuffled into the kitchen, putting them into containers to store in the fridge, not wanting them to go to waste. i had lost my appetite in the process, not even touching my own plate of food.

when i was finished putting all of the food away in the fridge, the door of our apartment jingled, charles was home.

"amour, i'm home," his voice had rung out in the apartment as he entered our shared apartment, even though i felt upset, i couldn't help but smile at him, at least he came home, right?

i was never the one to yell, to throw a fit when he forgot about something. even if it was something as important as our anniversary, i always wanted to talk it out, even when it made me upset and charles would always appreciate it, he would always talk to me lovingly even when we had our arguments.

"you missed our anniversary, love," i told him gently as i walked up to him, wrapping my arms around his middle before leaving a kiss on his cheek, his face flashed from surprise to frustration all in one go, he closed the door behind him and sighed, he was angry at himself for forgetting, i could tell. the way his brows were furrowed and his shoulders tensed.

"i-... amour, i'm sorry. things have been hectic, the car is just so shit this season and i didn't mean to—"

i cut him off before he could ramble on about his work with a soft kiss to his lips, "it's okay, i'm not mad at you. i know how things are at work and i understand, i just feel a little hurt that you didn't call or text me at all," i explain to him and he closes his eyes before wrapping his arms around me, he held me close.

i could smell the faint scent of his cologne as we held eachother close, the domestic aspect of it all. waiting for him to come home, cooking dinner for our anniversary even though he forgot.

"how about i make it up to you?" charles asked as he opened his eyes back up, the pretty green orbs of his eyes staring lovingly into me, staring lovingly into my bare soul, "what do you want to do?"

"can you just drive me around in your noisy car?" i laugh as he smiled at my joke, all of his cars were sports cars and they were noisy by default. i had always complained about it but i could never be mad at his love for his team, "just spend the night together, driving in the dark of the night while we sit in each other's company."

charles pressed his forehead against mine, he breathed in before nodding, "i can do that for you, do you want to go now?" he left a kiss on my lips before i nodded.

it wasn't long before i was in the passenger seat and he was starting his car up, i hadn't been in this car yet. i knew that he got it as a gift for his win in austin, i had attended the race and he had excitedly told me about the car once we got home in monaco but i never got the chance to sit in it until now.

"this one is a bit noisier, amour. i apologize," charles had said when the engine rumbled to life, i had settled into the seat as he drove off into the night of monaco, his phone had connected to the bluetooth automatically and his playlist was in the background, serving good ambience in the car.

"i love spending time like this, just the two of us, not really driving to anywhere meaningful," i had spoken up, breaking the previous comfortable silence the both of us were in, charles glanced at me before humming a response, eyes back on the road shortly.

monaco was a small city, but i noticed that charles had taken a particularly familiar track, it was the monaco grand prix track, where he had won earlier this year.

"i'm sorry," another apology leaves his lips, i turn my head to look at him, he didn't have to apologize. i forgave him after he got home, but i appreciated it, "i should've paid more attention, i know how important dates are to you. i should've set a reminder."

"i told you that it's okay, i'm not holding anything against you," i tell him softly, his hand instinctively reaches out for my knee and i let him, setting my hand above his as his thumb gently caresses my knee.

the both of us had spent most of that night going in circles, going on the familiar monaco track, it was almost 3am when charles had decided to go back home. the night drive we spent together was nice, it was peaceful. i loved it.

it wasn't long after the both of us had settled into our apartment, getting ready for bed.

i had sat in my vanity, just doing skincare with charles opting to sit on the floor, his head laid on my lap as i went through the steps for my night routine, my hand periodically going down to pat his head.

"we can go for dinner tomorrow, i have nothing planned," charles mumbles, leaving a kiss on my thigh, i nod, dinner was fun, considering that today's was left untouched.

i could feel his head lift up from my thigh, so i looked down and i saw him staring up at me, with all the love in his eyes, i just smiled at him, "what's wrong love?"

"nothing, i just... i'm sorry. i feel bad. i love you— i love us. i just can't believe that i could forget our anniversary so easily like that," charles mumbled, i pet his head again, i had told him countless of times in the car ride that i didn't hold any ill-intent against him for forgetting. his job was demanding, and something like that could've easily slipped his mind.

although i did feel hurt, he's trying to make it up to the best of his abilities now, and that's all i could ask for.

"how many times have i told you to stop apologizing?" i had told him before standing up, he did the same and the both of us made our way to the bed, snuggling up against eachother.

my head was against his chest and his face was in my hair, softly breathing in and out. i could tell he was tired but still went out to drive with me anyway.

"i love you, amour."

"i love you too charles."

"let's go to dinner tomorrow, okay? i'll make it up to you," charles pressed a gentle kiss onto my forehead and i could only hum back in return, i had my eyes closed and i was close to drifting off to sleep considering it was nearing 4 am at this point.

"okay, goodnight. sleep well."

"goodnight to you too mon amour."

[si3nn4]

Katsuki loved it when his pregnant wife fussed over him.

Before your pregnancy, you were already mothering him in the most endearing way, and Katsuki secretly adored it. Paparazzi would snap photos of you at galas, carefully adjusting his suit or making sure he had extra cufflinks, even in the rarest of situations. At home, as a stay-at-home wife, you greeted him with the warm smell of homemade food.

A single unwashed spoon could set you off, and you'd huff and complain in a way that reminded him of his mother. Katsuki couldn’t help but chuckle at your antics.

As your pregnancy progressed, those little quirks only grew. One day, Katsuki forgot his lunch at home. Realizing his mistake, he was already planning to drive back and eat there, checking in on you while he was at it.

But before he could leave, the door to his office suddenly swung open. You waddled in, lunch in hand, and a stern look on your face.

"You forgot your lunch, Kats." You handed it to him, your voice firm. "I spent all that time making it, so I had the chauffeur drive me here."

Katsuki stood there, amused, grinning at the sight of you, hands on your hips as you walked over to his desk.

"You’re becoming more forgetful. I mean, shouldn’t I be the forgetful one? Maybe you need to get to bed earlier—seven o’clock, no excuses.” You rambled, still keeping up the little rant as you went about straightening up things on his desk, things Katsuki had long stopped caring about.

Katsuki smirked as he leaned back in his chair, watching you. “Mama, do your heels not hurt? You want to sit for a minute?”

“Nope. I just sat the whole way here. I’m getting some exercise while I’m at it." You didn’t miss a beat, fixing his papers and checking over the office. “And don’t change the subject,” you added, your stern expression still locked in place as you finally looked him in the eye.

Katsuki chuckled and pushed himself out of his chair. He walked over to you, pulling you into his arms. "I’m sorry, Mama. I won’t forget again."

Leaning down, he kissed you, grinning when you melted into his embrace. Pulling back, you smiled at him, but then your eyes flicked to the lunch he’d almost forgotten on his desk.

“Okay, but you’re still sleeping at seven from now on," you added, your tone soft but resolute.

[beloveds-embrace]

Listen okay, your monster soulmate piece has a chokehold on me and my brain is whirring at a million miles a minute about monster tf141 x witch reader. Like the reader is introduced to them through Laswell and for them all its like a missing piece of their souls have clicked into place but reader is on the shyer side so they dont do anything (they also cant place just what she is yet, they know shes not a shifter but theres something supernatural about her) just yet waiting for her to warm up to them and well they're obviously very busy with the mission briefing and training the actual mission won't take place for a few weeks so over the weeks they all take their time to get to know her and for her to know them and its going well, in a few weeks they're as close as they can be in terms of friendship and just before the boys get on their choper to get them to the mission locations she makes sure she places little pins in their tactical gear and when Jonny asks "whats this bonnie" she just smiles at him and continues on to Kyle "is a dual protection and tracking charm, it will let me keep track of you on a map and will help keep you save.: shes a price by the time she finishes and she smiles up at him "i may not be a shifter but i am a damn powerful witch and i gotta keep my boys safe". Price cocks an eyebrow at her and smirks, "your boys huh?" She just nods and lets out an affirmative little uhuh "my boys, for now and forever". They all blush at her comment but Price bends down to her eye sight with an even bigger skirk, "does that mean we get a good luck kiss" she kisses his cheek gently "you'll get that and a whole lot more when you come back to be alive"

Shifter 141 and witch reader is literally this meme:

I love this tho sm 😫 if it’s a long mission they def do occasionally check to see if they still have your pins. Even better if the pins smell like you, means they can kiss it occasionally and just tell themselves they’ll drown you in kisses (and more ehe) when they are back home with you, safe and sound <33

[ellecdc]

saw the blurbs rq post and immediately need

“i never knew i could feel this loved.”

w barty 🙏🙏🙏🙏

ugh friggen barty - I’ve missed him! Also sorry if it’s not too good, I wrote it on my phone. That means I also have no idea how long it is!! Thanks for the prompt 🫶

Barty Crouch Junior x Potter!reader who are at the manor over the school break

CW: touch starved barty (don’t worry, he gets touched), talking about grounding exercises, fluff

The school matron always told Barty to recite the “grounding lists” to help when things got to be too much.

What a load of rubbish. Who in the hells can recite 5 things they can see, 4 things they can hear, 3 things they can feel, 2 things they can smell, and 1 thing they can taste when they’re having a bloody fucking meltdown?

Not him, that’s for damn sure.

The only time Barty could imagine being able to do that was when he was already grounded.

Like now.

From his position on the sofa, laying on his stomach and situated between your legs with his face on your stomach, he could:

See

The plush, red velvet loveseat of the living room in your family home

The great expanse of pictures that hung along the walls of your living room

The half empty bowl of crisps the two of you had been sharing as you watched a movie

The throw blanket in a heap on the floor that the two of you kicked off of your intertwined forms

And the muggle tell-a-vision that was stuck on some fuzzy popcorn type screen because the two of you were too lazy to turn it off now that the movie was over

Hear

The low, staticky popcorn sound that the telly was making

The sound of your heart beat; so full of love that Barty swore it beat louder than anyone else’s

The distant sound of your parents laughing and conversing somewhere else in the manor

The sound of his thumb brushing over the space where the sleeve of your jumper gave way to the skin of your wrist

Feel

The rise and fall of your chest with every breath that you took

The fabric of the cashmere jumper he bought for you under his cheek

The warmth of your hand where it rested in his hair

Smell

The cinnamon and nutmeg candle you lit before the movie

The unmistakeable smell of you that Barty could never get enough of

And as he ran his tongue over his lips, he could still taste you from when you’d pressed a kiss to his lips before getting comfortable.

“Barty?” You whispered as though you weren’t sure he was still awake.

“Yes, my beautiful darling angel?”

You were quiet for a moment, and Barty could tell you were smiling to yourself.

“What are you thinking about?”

He lifted his head to rest his chin on your stomach so he could look at you; your hair was rather rumpled from the throw pillows, your eyes were clearly more than a little heavy, and Barty was sure that if you were alone, you’d probably be asleep by now. But you seemed to be putting 100% of your energy and effort into the loving gaze you were shooting at him, and Barty wondered - not for the first time - what in the hells he ever did to deserve you.

“I never knew I could feel this loved.” He admitted.

You froze for a moment; the breath you were in the middle of taking paused on its way out as your brows furrowed minutely before you expertly schooled your expression.

“Yeah?”

Barty hummed in agreement and pressed a kiss to your sternum.

“That’s funny,” you said as he lowered his cheek back onto your stomach, “I was just thinking the same thing.”

[macfrog]

homesick

a cowboy like me one shot

oh, i missed these two. here's a little check-in on my favorite morally irresponsible outlaws.

pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you spend the weekend back home in austin with joel.

warnings: age gap (early 20s/late 40s), twinge of angst, piv sex in the shower (beware of slippage). you know the drill with these two. part of the cowboy like me universe, but can probably be enjoyed as a standalone.

word count: 6.3k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🧡

“This is Joel Miller. I can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to ya.”

You wait for the beep, pacing along a wall of steel cylinders. The laundromat is stifling, the machines’ drumming deafening. It’s eighty-something degrees out, and it’s only six o’clock.

“Pick up, Miller. Hello? Hello? I know you’re there. Can’t come to the –” you clear your throat, strum the twang in your vocal cords, “– Can’t come to the ph-owww-ne right n–”

The line clicks as he picks the handset up.

“Did you call just to make fun of me, kid?”

You halt, spinning on your heel. “So you were screening me?”

He scoffs. “Didn’t notice the time. I’ve been out back with Tommy.”

“Oh,” you mellow, tongue curling around your ice cream, “We don’t have to call right now, you know. I’m just doing laundry.”

“It is six there, right?”

“Yeah, but don’t let me keep you. Go hang with your brother.”

Joel sighs as he sinks back into his couch. “Keep me. He knows you were calling tonight. He’s probably outside fraternizing with the neighbor, anyway. Won’t even notice I’m gone. Laundry, huh?”

“Mhm.” You suckle on the lip of the waffle cone. “It’s a beautiful night, and I’m stuck being force-fed Mötley Crüe and watching a steel drum shred my panties.”

“Sounds like a good time to me.”

“Enough, cowboy.”

“I like Mötley Crüe,” he chuckles. “They got some hits under their belt.”

“Name five.”

“Five,” he says. “You’re asking a lot there, darlin’.”

“Of Mötley Crüe or of your memory, old man?”

Joel hums. “Should’ve seen that one coming, baby.”

You boost yourself up onto one of the dryers, swinging your legs. If there were anyone else in the laundromat, you’d care to hide your fluster – but you’re here on your own, and the man just melts you. All girlish and giggly, you feel his words swirl around your stomach like sweet honey.

“Tell me about your day,” you say, covering the flutter in your voice with another mouthful of ice cream.

“Well,” Joel says, “weather’s fine, work’s fine. Almost done with that renovation for your favorite clients.”

You gasp. “The old couple with the cats?”

He grumbles. “That’s them. They still hate me, by the way.”

“The couple, or the cats?”

“…Jury’s out.”

You snicker.

“Then, uh, I called Sarah, had some dinner, and now here I am talkin’ to you.”

“Hm. I’m your favorite part, right? I’m your favorite part of today?”

Joel pauses, breathing for a moment. Slow, quiet, but sure, he says: “You’re my favorite part of every day.”

The smile on your face cracks, crumbles into something more pained. Your heart sinks.

It’s been three months since you were last home. Technically, it’s been seven weeks since you were in Austin – but Joel was out of town for the weekend, and you spent four days cleaning your dad’s gutter and watching westerns.

It’s been three months since you were last in Joel’s arms. In his house, in his clothes, in his bed. Three months since you heard his voice not through the crackle of a thousand miles apart; since you smelled him on your skin, not on the flannels you’ve stolen from him.

Three long, tough months.

And it means nothing, anyway. All this missing each other. So you tell yourselves, and so you tell everyone else. You’re not together, you’re not committed. You’ve been seeing other people, so has Joel – even if he’s only been on two dates in the nine months since you moved away.

Spending a casual weekend together here and there is enough to get you by. It’s easier this way, right? It’s cleaner. There are no crossed wires, no strings at risk of becoming tangled.

Only – your entire relationship is woven in tangled strings. Messy, knotted, twisted around your fingers and threaded through your ribs. A summer’s worth of weaving yourselves closer and closer together, only to be pulled apart come fall.

It didn’t take long to prove that when a knot is pulled, it only binds tighter.

It only binds sorer.

“Anyway,” Joel says, “your turn. How was your day?”

You gulp, slipping down from the dryer to check on your wash. If you speak, you’ll break, and if you break, you’ll sob.

“Baby? You still there?”

“Yep,” you croak. You wipe your eyes with your sleeve and shake your head. “I – uh…Yeah, my day was fine.”

The line quietens.

“You sure? Everything okay at work?”

Your reflection blinks back at you in the window of the machine, warped and molten. She opens her mouth and replies, “All good.”

He can read you even three states apart. “Let me call you back. Hold on.”

The call disconnects before you can protest. Over your shoulder, another regular shuffles into the laundromat.

She smiles, skin supple and sun-spotted, looking but not looking you in the eye. She slides her full basket over one of the machines on the other side of the room, and tosses her clothes into the drum.

When your phone vibrates again, you pass by her and out onto the street.

Joel’s pixelated living room stretches across your screen.

“Joel,” you sniff, “Joel, it’s –”

“Can you see me?”

“No, you gotta flip your –”

“…never know why the damn thing don’t –”

“The button with the arrows. The camera button, Joel, it’s –”

His coffee table flips, and in place – straight, dark brows drawn tight in a frown. Crows feet, scar across the bridge of his nose. Peppered hair a little longer than the last time you called, beard a little thicker.

The only person in the world who can weaken your knees and splinter your chest, in one fleeting glance.

“Hi, baby girl,” he whispers, expression softening. “Look at you.”

You slump against the warm wall, sliding down. One sight of him, and your knees give. “Oh, my God, I miss you today.”

Joel laughs. His head cocks, smirk tugging at his lips. “I miss you every day.”

“Yeah, that’s – that’s what I…” you sigh, “…That’s what I meant. It’s just – some days, you feel a little further away.”

“Today one of those days?”

You nod. A car soars by, whipping hot air from the road which pours over your bare legs. “It’s just…been a day. That’s all.”

“We can talk about it, if you want. You’re hell of a lot smarter than me, darlin’, but I’ve had my share of bad days before. Never does any harm to get it off your chest.”

He smiles. It breaks your heart.

He works ten hours straight, some days. Out at the crack of dawn, home with only enough time and energy to nuke something in the microwave. Somewhere amongst that, he fits in beers with Tommy and ridiculous DIY jobs your dad elicits his help for.

And still – he sets aside an hour or two every few nights, specially for you. He collapses into his couch, decaf in his mug, and puts the world to rights with you on the other end of the phone.

The meaningless work dramas, the paper building up on your desk. The commute, for the love of God – the traffic jams you swear will one day be the death of you. The last thing Joel needs is to listen to your problems on end, and you tell him so.

“Bullshit,” he replies. He shakes his head, takes a sip of his beer. “I asked, didn’t I? Talk to me. Tell me what’s goin’ on.”

You groan. “I just…I wish I could turn my brain off. Just for a little while. No meetings, no call times. No helping my dad trim the trees in the yard when I’m home for the weekend.”

He laughs. “He rope you into that one too, huh?”

“Sure did.” You tense your fist, wince at the memory of splinters you were still plucking from your palm even weeks later.

“I got nothing to complain about,” you tell Joel, “I know that. This job is…it’s right where I want to be. Just – sometimes, I miss being back in Austin, following you around Costco and hiding from my dad. It’s like life was simpler then.”

Joel chokes. “I guarantee you,” he coughs, thumping his chest clear of beer, “life was not simpler. Not by a long shot. Goddamn.”

He swings to his feet and wanders across the room to his kitchen. Past his armchair, past the guitar mounted on the wall. Past the dining chair he always hangs his coat from. You know the anatomy of his home better than your own, it feels like.

You sure as hell miss it more than your own.

“Lemme see…” Joel squints over his phone. He leans over his kitchen counter. “What’s next weekend look like for you?”

You shrug. “My weekend off.”

“Nothing planned?”

“Nothing yet.”

He nods. “I’m meeting a supplier on Saturday afternoon, but if you can stand to be without me for a few hours, then…”

His eyebrows lift.

So do yours. “Then…?”

“I can look at flights,” Joel says, “get you booked tonight. Pick you up Friday, drop you off Sunday. Spend the whole weekend with your brain shut off, if that’s what you’re lookin’ for.”

A wave of warmth floods through your chest. Relief, maybe – or simple adoration for the man on the other end of the phone. Most likely, the way it always seems with Joel, it’s both at once.

He loves you. Enough to break every rule in the book. To go behind his best friend’s back for an entire summer. He loves you enough to let you go, watch you follow your wildest dreams, and then be the safety net at the end of each long day, each hard night.

He loves you enough to scratch everything off his calendar for a few days, just to make sure you’re okay. Just to hold you in his arms, heart beating a rhythm he knows better than his own. Just to sing you to sleep, and wake you up with burnt toast and runny eggs.

You pull the collar of your shirt over your nose and weep into the material. “I ever tell you how much I love you?”

He smiles. “Not half as much as I love you.”

“Gross.”

“I know.”

The laundromat door flings open.

Face now flushed and hair scraped back, the woman clocks you immediately and throws a pointed finger in your direction. “Are you coming to get your panties or what, little girl?”

She clicks her teeth and disappears again. The blind hanging over the door rattles with the force it slams closed.

“Guess that’s my cue,” you whisper, heaving to your feet. “Better go get my panties.”

“Why?” Joel’s making his way back outside. “Ain’t like you’re gonna need ‘em.”

You scoff. “Talk later, cowboy.”

Austin welcomes you back with a delayed flight, a screaming seatmate, and a raging headache.

The airport is busy. Loud busy. All chittering couples, hordes of kids with nauseatingly bright backpacks. You drag your suitcase through to arrivals, careful not to trip over the wheels of the stroller ahead.

When you spot his tall, dark figure weaving between bodies, the gate hushes. You move towards him by instinct, parting the crowd as you go. The magnet in your chest senses its partner drawing nearer, and nearer, and nearer.

And nearer, until he’s reaching out. He’s close enough that his hands land on your waist, and it’s the first time in three months that you’ve felt this weight – his weight, the way only he feels – all around you.

Joel pulls you in to his chest. He locks you in, resting his chin on your head.

“Hi, honey.”

You inhale his scent, breathe in the comfort of him. “Hi,” you exhale.

Tears prickle at your eyes. It feels stupid. He looks down at you, thumb swiping across your cheek, and a salty droplet spills.

“How was the flight?” he asks.

“Good.”

“You okay?”

“Perfect, now.”

“You look perfect,” Joel grins, “Look like the sun.”

And you could swat him away, could shrug him and his flirting off. The sun sure as hell doesn’t look stewed in three-hour plane, too tired to move and too clingy to unhook from her dad’s best friend’s arm.

But that’s not what he’s saying, is it?

You do look different. You feel different. You feel brand new. Golden – just like the sun.

These days, it feels like there are two versions of you. One, you’ve spent the better part of a year polishing off – electric and vibrant, eyes wide and head spinning, moving through her day like gliding on air and then collapsing in a heap come nightfall. Chaos with a clipboard and call sheet.

And the other – slower. Steadier. Surer on her feet, simpler in her ways. Dust under her heels and a Texan shine in her smile. Honeylike; moving where her body tells her to go, drinking up the world as she pleases.

There’s a moment, stood under the fluorescent lights of the terminal, where you feel the first give way to the second. Safe now, in Joel’s arms, to slip back into her old, worn boots and shutter her mind – even just for this weekend.

“Come on,” he whispers, wrapping his hand around yours. “Let’s get you home.”

And there never seemed like a better idea than that.

He keeps your things in his shower caddy.

Bottom basket, strictly yours. Shampoo and conditioner and bodywash and a loofah, all exactly where you left them last time you were here. He says it as he cranks the handle, holds his palm under the flow until it’s just right.

“The strawberry stuff…?” Joel nods to the bottle, face screwed.

You gasp. “You don’t like it?”

He shakes his head. “Like it on you. I smelled like a fruit farm for a week, baby.”

“Makes a change from wood trimmings,” you mutter, peeling the shirt from your chest.

Joel glares over his shoulder. “You wanna say that a little louder?”

“No, sir,” you whisper, and step into the cubicle.

The water pours over your head and down your spine, breathing life back into your body. You close your eyes and let it wash down your face. LA feels so distant, so lost to the steam and serenity in Joel’s ensuite.

He lingers in the doorway, watching as you turn under the shower. He smiles when you hold your hand out and flick your fingers.

“Soap, please.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, dropping it in your palm.

You slip the velvety bar over your skin. The soap lathers in thick, milky bubbles, cascading over your chest down to your hips. Your hands lift from your navel to cup your breasts, pinching your nipples between soft fingers.

Joel’s jaw ticks. He crosses his arms, shoulders tensing. “Easy, darlin’. Dancing with the devil here.”

It burns low in your stomach.

You pass him the bar back. “Maybe I want to dance,” you murmur. “Maybe he does, too.”

His eyebrows lift. “Maybe he does,” he agrees. He trades the soap for shampoo, tapping the bottle against your hip.

The heat grows under your skin. Having him watch, his close eye on you as you wash the suds from your hair and slick bodywash over your skin.

His eyes drift from your chest to your waist, looping up to your soaked eyelashes and dripping bottom lip, diving again between your legs.

Hungry. Starved, even.

Three months of secret photos and sexy phone calls to get you both by. Three months of imagining you, fist around his cock in the dead of night, coating his stomach just with the thought of you.

And right here, right now, in his shower: the real thing. The forbidden fruit. Body hot and skin soaked, just as desperate as he is. Just as needy.

You step forward, reaching for his shoulders. Arms around his neck, dampening the collar of his shirt, you pull him closer.

“Dance with me,” you whisper against his lips, stealing a kiss.

Joel’s gaze darkens. He takes your jaw and tilts your head back. Voice like thunder rolling over you, he warns, “I told someone we’d be somewhere.”

You smile, tugging on the hem of his shirt. “We’re running late. Something’s come up.”

His arms lift and you pull the cotton over his head, tossing it to the floor. He’s the same solid sculpture as always. Strong and wide, torso scattered with hair which thickens across the span of his chest.

He rids himself of his boots and jeans, kicks his underwear off, and joins you under the water. So big that he corners you, so tall that he has to adjust the showerhead.

Pressed up against your body; warm, manly scent raining over you. He’s hard, tucked right by your hip, rutting gently as he steals kiss after kiss.

He’s addicted to it. To you. Has been ever since that first night, the first taste of poison. Has been, probably, since that first glimpse of you last summer. For all the wrong reasons and in all the wrong ways, for better or worse –

You break him open. You make him weak.

Joel groans when you wrap your hand around him. That familiar weight in your grasp. He glances down to watch your slow strokes, fighting back a filthy smile.

“Missed you,” he breathes, voice lost to the patter of the shower. He slips a hand between your legs. “Ain’t gonna last long, are you?”

“Fuck,” you hiss, grinding into his palm. You toy with his bottom lip, nipping at the edges of his smirk. “We got all weekend. Just – just fuck me.”

He hikes your leg over his hip and lines up. A blooming ache when he notches at your hole, tip teasing your entrance.

Your back curls. You wrap your arms around Joel’s neck, whimpering into his chest.

“’s alright,” he kisses your neck, “Just take it nice ‘n slow. Get her used to me again, baby.”

He pushes inside, two heavy hands on your waist. Always in control, always easing you in. He holds you delicately, moving inch by inch, watching the twist of your brow and bite of your lip before sinking in further.

He reaches up and tilts the downpour to the wall. Lifts your fragile body, split in two on his cock, and pushes you against the tile.

Your cunt aches as he slides out. She clamps around his tip. It hurts – but you don’t want to let him go.

“Stay,” you cry, nails digging into his shoulders. “Stay inside me.”

He hums and presses his lips to the hinge of your jaw. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere, baby. I’m right here.”

His hips move forward. Your cunt opens for him the deeper he moves. Like welcoming him home, remembering the way it feels to be this full. The stretch of taking him, the air stolen from your lungs. The love you can never find the beginning nor the end of.

And then he’s moving quicker, sharper, one arm wrapped around your neck to cradle your head. Hips snapping against yours, slowing to a roll when you yelp.

Whispering sweet nothings in your ear – how good you’re taking him, how tight she is. How much he’s missed this, missed her, missed you. Never wants to let you go, never wants to be anywhere except right here, feeding you his cock and watching you come undone.

“Made for me, huh?” Joel grunts. He presses his forehead to yours and slips the words across your tongue. “All mine.”

“All yours,” you echo, weeping under him. The flame catches and curls around your stomach.

The missing piece to the last nine months. The dead-end dates, the hazy hookups. Awkward good mornings, and goodbyes that never seem to come quick enough. Sneaking off home to shower the scent of it away, to replace it with something sweeter.

Him.

Because none of them are him.

They don’t make you laugh and they don’t make you come. They don’t see you, don’t hang on your every word. They don’t – they can’t break your world apart and paint it something new. They don’t know your every move, don’t understand the most fleeting glances.

You could spend forever circling every bar and every diner; what do you do for work and where did you grow up. You could chase the tail of every flannel shirt, search all over for that twinkle in his eye.

They’re not him. They’ll never be him.

Joel coaxes you where he needs you. He fucks you until you’re quivering in his arms, head rolling across his shoulder. His thrusts begin to stall, breathing turns to panting, teeth sink into any part of your skin he can find.

He moans into your neck. The sound nudges you towards the edge.

“I’m close, baby,” he grits, “’m so close.”

You look up at him through tear-soaked eyes.

Three months. Since the last time he touched you, kissed you, fucked you like this. Since the last time he lost control, came deeper inside than anyone before, or anyone since.

Three months since the last time you held him in your hands, lined your lips with his, and begged him to stay in you.

Joel laughs. “Dangerous little game, darlin’.”

But he’s fading. He’s falling under, same as you are.

You want it. You need it. Need to be full of him – that ache when you walk, the warmth leaking down the inseam of your thighs. The feeling of being his, all his; ruined and wrecked in the sweetest way.

“Stay – inside,” you plead. “I want you to – want it so bad.”

“Keep begging, honey. Sound so cute when you’re desperate.”

“Please, Joel,” it’s getting harder to hold, “Just wanna feel you in me –”

“I know, I know,” he shushes.

You tense in his arms, gasping. “I’m gonna – come –”

“So,” Joel smirks, “come.”

And it snaps.

You scream into his chest. Your climax pulls you under, drowns you in a heavy wave of pleasure. Your hips lock, legs clamp around his waist as you cry out.

He plants a hand flat against the tile to steady himself. He holds you still as his own orgasm rolls through, pumping your swollen cunt with each rush of warm release.

You collapse against his body, bubbling and mumbling something incoherent.

He hears you, though.

He shuts the water off and rocks you back and forth. His cock slips from between your legs. “Shh, shh,” lips to your temple, “’s my girl. Such a good girl, baby. So good for me.”

You hum in response and pull yourself upright. You trace the shape of his beard, soaking wet and soft under your touch, following the droplets of water to his chin.

He kisses the tips of your fingers. “I love you,” he says. Chants it like a prayer, leaning closer and closer until his lips are against yours. “Love you more ‘n anything.”

You giggle. “You’re tickling me.”

Joel nuzzles his nose into your neck. He wriggles his fingers under your ribcage. “Can’t get enough of you,” his tongue swipes across your hot skin, “Swear to God, baby, you’re killing me.”

“Joel,” your head falls back with a clap of laughter, “Joel, stop – oh, my God, you have to stop, please – Joel!”

He hoists you onto his hips and turns. Hands still exploring, still pinching and squeezing everywhere they shouldn’t be, he carries you out to his bedroom and drops you onto the mattress.

“Here,” he chuckles, wrapping a towel around your body. He knots it over your chest and rubs your waist, before flopping down onto the bed with a sigh.

You roll over on top of him and fix the dripping hair from his forehead. “Missed you,” you whisper, trailing kisses along his collarbone.

He smiles. His heart flutters beneath yours. “Missed you more,” he says.

His semen drips between your legs. He’s softening against the inside of your thigh. The bed is soaked, sheets that’ll need changed before you sleep tonight. You’re tired, spent, pussy throbbing from the loss of him – and it’s all so perfect.

Being here, with him. Seeing him, feeling him on your body. In your body, for crying out loud. Holding him, kissing him, loving him up close.

It’s fucking perfect.

“What are we running late for?” you ask.

Joel’s eyes flutter open. He cocks his head, frowning.

“You said we had somewhere to be,” you clarify.

“Oh,” he winces, “Uh, your dad’s. He’s havin’ us for dinner.”

“Oh,” you echo. “When is he expecting –?”

He glances at the clock. “Half hour ago.”

“Nice.” You push yourself up, slipping from his grasp. “Well, this is about to be awkward.”

Joel folds his arms behind his head. He tracks your flurried movements: lugging your bag across the floor, tearing through it for an outfit that doesn’t scream, Your best friend just fucked me senseless in his shower.

When you straighten and lift your arms, eyes wide, his lips turn.

“You said you wanted to dance, baby. I was just following orders.”

The sun filters through the leaves, breathing back and forth with the sway of the trees.

You’re horizontal in a deckchair, feet in Joel’s lap, blanket around your shoulders. Full on burgers and baseball talk; if it weren’t for your dad’s riveting conversation about his new lawnmower, you’d probably be asleep.

“Ride-on,” he tells Joel, nodding. It makes gardening a real thrill, apparently. He flicks a hand over the span of the yard. “Whole thing done in less than twenty minutes. Hank says he’s half a mind to make an investment himself.”

Joel purses his lips. He strokes your ankles soothingly. “Sounds like a good buy,” he placates.

Your dad drums on his armrests, admiring his yard some more. He mumbles something about raking the leaves, painting the fence, then – with a vigor that makes you jump, he taps your arm.

“How’s work, kiddo? Still rockin’ ‘n rollin’?”

Your eyes flash across Joel’s. The hell does that even mean?

The corner of his lip twitches. Your guess is as good as mine.

“Yep,” you lie. “Living the dream, Dad.”

Joel says nothing. He hasn’t told your dad why you came home – hasn’t even mentioned the tears outside the laundromat. Your secret is safe with him, you know that. Some puzzles are easier to figure out, the less eyes that are on them.

He hasn’t even brought it up with you yet. Granted, you’ve been home all of four hours, and a solid quarter of that time has been spent naked with him back at his place – but he’s waiting for you to make the first move.

This weekend doesn’t have to be about work. Hell, it doesn’t even have to be about you feeling homesick. It can be as simple as you hadn’t seen your dad for a few weeks, or you heard the news about the damn lawnmower and just had to pay a visit.

It’s what you’ve always loved so much about Joel. It’s what reeled you into him in the first place.

He just lets you be. No questions, no pressure, no worries. He knows you’ll figure it out – you always do. And if he knows that, then it makes you believe in it, too.

Dad sinks back into his chair with a sigh. “What’s on the cards this weekend, then?”

“Joel’s down San Antonio way tomorrow,” you yawn, “Some supplier meeting.”

“You don’t feel like a road trip?”

Your eyes roll to Joel. He’s already staring back. You cock an eyebrow, smirking into your glass.

His shoulder rolls in a shrug. “Your call, chief,” he says, tipping his drink to you.

The minute he mentioned the meeting last week, you knew you’d be tagging along. Two hours each way and an hour in between is too big a chunk of your weekend together to miss out on.

That – and you’ve missed Joel’s front-seat singing.

It doesn’t matter what you planned on doing – rolling around his bed for three days straight, driving to San Antonio and back. Hell, trimming your dad’s trees and cleaning his guttering.

As long as you’re doing it with Joel, it’s enough.

It’s what you came home for in the first place.

The drive passes quickly enough. Joel’s truck doesn’t have Bluetooth, and he only keeps three discs in his glove compartment: Don McLean’s American Pie, a Guitar Classics compilation album, and a blank disc with SARAH MILLER, SECOND GRADE scrawled in Sharpie.

He whips it from your hands when you fish it out of the compartment.

“Listen, listen to this,” Joel says, slotting it in the tray. “Found it a couple weeks ago. I listen to it when I’m drivin’ to work.”

Her squeaky, seven-year-old voice punches through the cabin. “Welcome to my presentation –” she roars into the mic, pausing when a voice picks up in the background. “Huh?” Sarah asks.

“You’re holdin’ the mic too close,” Joel murmurs, almost fourteen years younger. “Farther. Farther,” he says, and then – “Alright. Go.”

“Welcome to my presentation on Amelia E-Earhart,” she resumes, clearing her throat. “She…Oh, Daddy, we gotta restart. I forgot to tell ‘em my name.”

Joel covers his laughter with his fist, reciting it line for line. “Tommy said he’s gonna make her a copy for her birthday,” he says.

“Oh, my God. She’s gonna hate you guys, you know that, right?”

He nods. “I’m countin’ on it.”

Sarah rounds off a few facts about twentieth century air travel before Joel swaps her for the radio. He hands you the disc and you place it safely back in the glove compartment.

You curl up in the passenger seat, swinging your legs over to his lap.

He rubs your calves and glances over, smiling. “You okay over there?”

“I’m more tired than I was when I landed,” you reply, and he laughs.

You haven’t had much of a chance to catch up on sleep. The second you made it home last night, your dress was on the floor at the foot of Joel’s bed. He woke you this morning with his lips on your thighs, your underwear around your ankles.

He was midway through cooking breakfast when you floated into the kitchen to return the favor. The toast burned, the eggs shriveled to a crisp, and your knees bruised.

Fuck it, right? You’ll miss him when you’re gone. When all that’s left are the memories, and the sound of his climax through speakerphone.

An afternoon spent on the road is good recovery time, then, for all that’s waiting for you when you make it back to Joel’s tonight.

A few off-key covers of fifty number ones from the last fifty years later, you’re pulling into a barren lot headered by a beige trailer. The supplier springs out – a beefy guy with a full head of thick, white hair. He crosses the lot as Joel parks up.

Joel rounds the truck, pausing when he spots you lingering at the tailgate. He curves a hand around your neck, thumb circling over your pulse point. “You comin’?”

You twist the hem of your tee around your finger. “Maybe I’ll stay out here and wait. It’s a nice night, and you ain’t gonna be too long, right?”

He shakes his head. “Be as fast as I can. If it gets dark out, you come inside, alright?”

You shuffle into his embrace. “Promise.”

He kisses your head and steps back. “Here,” he slips the flannel from his shoulders, “If you’re sittin’ out. Got my phone if you need me.”

He disappears inside and the door falls closed. A cluster of moths twirls around the light on the trailer’s side. You hop up on the bed of the truck, crossing Joel’s shirt around your frame, and nestle against the back window.

The sun pulls down towards the horizon, sending dregs of daytime in ripples to the stars. She’s still alight just beyond the trees, still burning a hole in the sky. She winks at you from a distance.

The world looks different from Austin. Bigger, like the view from your bedroom window. There’s always more, just beyond the horizon. There has to be more, right? More than four pink walls and a chest of drawers. More than Sal’s store, more than Rita’s cross stitch.

You chased that more halfway across the country – only to realize it was in your hands the whole time.

Him and his lazy smile, sarcasm as thick as the accent he speaks it in. Rolled up sleeves and messy collar; a half-empty cup of coffee and a cracked watch face.

He’s all the more you could ever need.

You’re still perched on the tailgate, staring skyward, when Joel finishes up.

He swaggers across the lot, tan arms speckled with dry dirt, boots kicking up dust. He tosses a fistful of papers in the front seat, then drifts around to settle between your knees.

“Hi,” he whispers, tucking his nose under your jaw.

“Hi.”

He plants his hands either side of your hips and kisses your neck. “Home time, sweet girl.”

You glance over your shoulder.

This time tomorrow, you’ll be on your flight back. Row twelve, seat C. Joel’s flannel over your shoulders, slowly forgetting the scent of him, mile by mile. You’ll sleep with it tucked under your chin until it no longer smells like oak or pine, or the mint bodywash he uses.

You’ll miss it the way you’ll miss him. Holding onto every last moment. Deep morning voice, warm, safe embrace. The rumble of a laugh in his chest, the glimmer or mischief in his eye. The touches he saves just for you; the words he whispers when the lights turn out.

You wrap your arms around his neck.

“Can we go watch the sunset somewhere?”

Joel glances off behind you. His eyes flit back to yours, sunlight catching their ochre and setting him ablaze.

“Get in,” he pulls you down, “I know just the spot.”

It’s almost dusk by the time you reach the outlook.

A twisty dirt road which opens up between some trees, halfway out of the city. Joel reverses the truck and parks in the clearing. The two of you slide onto the tailgate, sharing a bag of fruit gums he had stored alongside Sarah’s CD.

The stars turn one by one, dotted across deep indigo. The last of the day’s blush still lingers where the city meets the sky. Tucked between trees and twilight, it feels as though you’re the only two in the world.

Joel holds the bag out, and you pinch a couple pieces of candy. “How you feelin’?” he asks, looking out to the skyline.

“Okay, I guess,” you mutter. “This has been a nice reset. I wish I could take you back with me.”

Joel laughs. “I don’t.”

“No?” you suckle on the sweet fruit, “I think you’d fit right in.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” He shakes his head, pinching your chin. “Naw, LA is yours. It’s something you did, all by yourself. I am so proud of you, honey, do you know that? I mean, I miss you like hell, I really do…”

He glances back down, rustling the bag in his hands. He’s hiding, you know him well enough. Staring at his lap instead of in your eye. When he looks back up, there’s a glimmer along his waterline.

“…But the way I feel any time you call, and I know…I know you’re out there doin’ something you actually give a shit about. You ain’t stuck here, too big for your own bedroom, too comfortable for anywhere else.”

He slips a hand over your knee and squeezes.

It’s infuriating, how right he always is. You’re working your fucking ass off, and for good reason. Austin was always too small for the world inside your head. Missing each other is a price you’re both willing to pay, for the luxury of not missing out on every dream you’ve ever had.

But –

“What if it keeps getting harder?” you sniff, “What if I need you more?”

Joel clicks his teeth. “’s always gonna get harder. That’s life, darlin’. But the hard times won’t last forever. And when it feels real tough, and you feel like you can’t do it no more, you call me. You jump on the next flight. You switch your brain off, and you let me take care of you for a little while.”

You shake your head. Tears break loose, rolling down your cheeks. “I can’t ask that of you, Joel, you got your own shit to worry about –”

“Baby.” He sighs. “I’m old. I’ve done everything I think I oughta do. You know, the days I know you’re gonna be callin’ at eight o’clock – it’s all I can think about. I’m at work checking my watch every five minutes.”

You giggle, turning into the crook of his arm.

“It’s true,” Joel snickers, “I’m like a goddamn teenager. That’s what you do to me.”

He catches you and pulls you against his chest.

“What I’m saying is – there ain’t nothing that matters more to me in the world than you. My own shit to worry about? You mean – you?”

“Shut up,” you scoff, spitting tears into his shirt.

“You call,” he says, resolute, “and I’ll be there.”

“I’m calling,” you whisper. “I’m always calling.”

“Then I’m always here.”

You sit back, bracing yourself on Joel’s thighs. He wipes the wet from your cheeks and fixes his shirt over your shoulders.

“You know, one day,” you tell him, “you’re gonna get a call, and it’s not just gonna be for the weekend.”

He smiles. “I know.”

“One day, I’m gonna come home forever, Joel.”

“I know,” he repeats. “And I’ll be on the front porch waitin’.”

[hyukasmiles]

—Yeonjun—

Yeonjun misses you. Misses you so so so bad, hates when he has to be away from you. Texts you over and over and over again that he wishes you were with him, pouts to his members when you reply that he’ll be home in a few days and it’ll be ok.

He knows it’s true, two more days in Japan and he’ll be back in your arms, but here; alone in his hotel room he’s so overwhelmed with missing you tears well up in his eyes.

You pick up his facetime almost immediately, your tired, pretty features making him miss you more. “Awe..” You coo, kissing your screen. “My Junnie is crying.”

“I miss you.” His frown hurts. “My heart hurts.”

“I miss you too! So excited for you to come home!” You shift, so innocently, just trying to get comfortable but your pretty tits come into his view and Yeonjun is reminded of another thing he misses. “You’ve got my perfume, spray it on your pillow it might help you sleep.”

The tank top you’re wearing is so thin, pretty nipples almost completely visible through the fabric. “Yeah… that’s a good idea.” He doesn’t tell you he’s already drenched his bed and clothes in it, or that he’s quickly getting hard in his pants.

“Three days, Junnie, you’ll make it.” You move again, yawning and stretching and putting your body on display for him. “I miss you too, I had your hoodie on earlier but it’s too hot for it.”

Surely you won’t notice his hand slipping into his waistband. “We’re coming back a day early this time, so only two.” You make a noise in the back of your throat, eyes going wide as you smile out a yay.

“Really!” Your face presses closer at the same time his hand wraps around his achy cock. “That’s great! I can’t wait!” He can’t either, tempted to book a plane ticket and rush back to you now. “Are you guys having fun in Japan? Do any shopping before the concert?”

“Ye-yeah, I got you some stuff.” Another little noise and his hand slowly tugs upwards in his dick. “A sh- A shirt and some makeup from don quixote.”

“Awe, thank you.” Yeonjun’s hips jump, your hand would feel so much better, any part of you would feel better. Your tits are in his view again and the thought of fucking them draws a whine out of him, stopping you mid sentence. “You ok?”

“Yeah..” His voice is unstable, hand speeding up as you raise an eyebrow. “I’m jus-t tired and miss y-you.” His thumb swipes over his tip and another whine is pulled out of him.

“I guess I should hang up if you’re so tired.” You pull away from the camera, perfect boobs finally on full display for him. He wishes he was there to see them in person, too squeeze and lick and kiss and fuck.

Yeonjun panics a little, hand stopping as you try to say goodnight. “No- no, I want to hear your voice.” He rolls onto his stomach, hips hitting against the mattress. “Need to hear your voice. I just miss you so much.” His phone slips out of his as he reaches for a perfume-soaked pillow, groaning as your smell fills his brain.

“Do you feel good, Junnie?” You coo, seeming to have caught on to him. “Pick me up, I want to see.” Yeonjun props his phone against the bed frame, sitting up to show you his erection. “Look at that, so hard.”

“I miss you. Want to fuck your tits so bad.” You kiss your teeth, free hand cupping your boob and jiggling it a little. “Wanna cum all over them n’ then fuck your pretty cunt.”

“Show me how you’d do it, Junnie.” He picks up the pillow again, folding it in half and sliding his weeping dick between the fold. His knuckles turn white with his grip, hips rolling into the pillow. “Does it feel as good as me?”

“No.” He laughs, hips hitting the pillow harder. “Your cunt is so fucking warm, makes me feel like my dick is gonna melt, and your skin his so soft in my hands. It’s just fucking heaven to fuck you, nothing will ever come close.” You blush at his words, cooing about how sweet he is.

Yeonjun’s hips drop moving to rut against the mattress again, he can feel pressure building up, your pretty face and tits edging his release. “I wanna see you cum, Junnie.” His orgasm hits him then and there, shoulders sagging as he cums over the cotton sheets.

“Fuck- fuck I wish you were here.” His hips slow as he calms down, using his hand to milk out every last bit of cum. “Feels like a waste when my perfect girlfriend looks so pretty covered in my cum.”

—

inbox always open 🎀

[zomtart]

Unknown (Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader)

Hey y’all! So one of my favorite things to do writing wise is pick one of my favorite songs, listen to it on repeat, and write a fic to it lmao. So here’s that with Matt Murdock and my favorite song of all time, Unknown/Nth by Hozier. All writing is mine but of course the italized words are lyrics from Unknown/Nth, which belongs to the one and only Hozier (and Matt Murdock and co belongs to Marvel) <3 

I’m so sorry for the ending this was not supposed to end angsty but I had a prophetic vision I had to listen to it

Warnings: religious imagery to describe love, canon typical injuries/violence, death

Word Count: 1.2k

It ain’t the being alone

It ain’t the empty home, baby

You know I’m good on my own

You know, it’s more the being unknown

Sometimes, you terrified him.

You would say something, or do something, and he felt so…seen. Naked, stripped of any mask that protected him. You would never lay a hand on him, he knew that, but it didn’t make it any less horrifying. The fact that you could reach past any suit of armor, beat him to any punch, because you knew him. Sometimes it felt like you knew him even better than he knew himself. You saw past his attempts to push people away, to act cold and be alone. He’d try, time and time again, to convince both of you that he was better off by himself. It never worked. You weren’t scared away, and you had a way of making Matt feel like he…deserved to be in the company of you. To not be some anonymous figure drifting through the city. 

It was a shitty morning. It was too cold outside, numbing the edges of his fingers and the tips of his ears. He could feel the blood rushing to his nose, his body’s futile attempts to keep him warm. He was so cold he almost missed the scent of freshly brewed coffee coming from the office.

“Morning,” you said nonchalantly, gently taking his left hand and wrapping it around what he knew was a coffee cup. He felt frozen in place, but forced his mind to blame it on the weather. He could already smell it, but he took a sip before commenting.

“Peppermint mocha?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. You hummed in response, already looking over the new papers on your desk.

“How’d you know?”

You just laughed a little, taking a sip of your own drink. “We’ve gotten coffee before, Matthew. My memory isn’t that terrible.”

It wasn’t the fact that you said his full name. It was how you said it. Softly and…reverantly. He’d compare it to a prayer, but it was more holy than that.

He murmured a thanks and tried to relax. Wow, he felt like it was losing it, and for what? Because you knew his coffee order? The four of you have gotten coffee together before for company meetings. You probably remembered Karen and Foggy’s order just the same. It meant nothing.

~

You called me “angel” for the first time, my heart leapt from me

You smile now, I can see it’s pieces still stuck in your teeth

And what’s left of it, I listen to it tick

Every tedious beat

When you discovered he was Daredevil, he expected a lot of things. Confusion. Betrayal. Anger, most of all. He never expected you to…laugh.

He was exhausted. Far too exhausted to do anything but stumble into his apartment, not realizing you had snuck in to surprise him for his birthday. It was a bit past midnight and you stood in his living room with a cake, confused at his absence. You were about to call Foggy to make sure he was okay when he stumbled in with a broken nose and too many bruises to count. You shrieked and dropped the cake, rushing to grab the knife on the counter to defend yourself against…

“...Matt?” you said incredously, setting the knife down and inching forward. He was in too much pain to realize the consequences of what ensued, and he could only let it happen, limping to the couch before he collapsed on top of it. 

You set the knife down and ran to kneel in front of him. You looked him over, at all his injuries and the way his exhausted eyelids drooped downwards. 

“You stupid man…” you whispered, cradling his face upwards, drops of his blood sinking into your palm. “You…you’re…”

“Halloween costume.” he managed, and you laughed, a watery, broken, sound that echoed throughout the apartment he lived alone in. 

You shook your head. “T-the Devil doesn’t take breaks? Even on his birthday?”

“Heard someone…they needed help.”

“You’re blind.” you whispered, looking back to his sightless eyes to confirm. “How…?”

He didn’t answer, just leaned into your hand that still held onto his jaw. After a moment his nose twitched. “Did you..get me cake?”

“Yeah. Happy birthday.” you said quietly with another laugh. The sound was like a balm to his wounds. It was better than any gift he could have asked for. “How did you know?” “It’s a…a lot to explain. We’d be here all night.”

“Don’t tempt me, angel.” you winked. Then you simply got up and left to get a first aid kit, as if you hadn’t left his heart beating out of his chest. 

That night, you didn’t ask anymore questions. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was so beat up, or because you were in shock, or because of what day it was. You bandaged him up and got him to bed. When you were satisfied with the amount of blankets he had you lit a single candle and sang Happy Birthday. Your soft voice was slightly off-tune, and the melody was occasionally interrupted with little laughs by the both of you, but to him it was perfect.

It meant everything. 

~

There are some people, love, who are better unknown. 

He had learned to regret that night. In hindsight, he should have known. He should have known that letting you find out his true identity would put you at risk. He should have known he wasn’t able to protect you, wasn’t able to protect anyone who got close to him. He had put on the suit to help people, but he knew now it only made him an omen. If the Devil was near, death would ensue. 

He should have known.

He should have heard the gun reloading and your footsteps pounding to jump in front of him. He should have never let you be there in the first place. You were dead, and the beating of his fists against your murderer could do nothing to bring you back. He killed for the first time that night, and he was all too aware of the irony. The person who knew him best was gone, and if she weren’t she would not even recognize him.

[6toru]

𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬. — nanami kento

cw. angst & spoiler warning | wc. 640

“I’ll be back home soon, I promise.”

Those words that once filled your chest with hope faded into an endless cycle of doubt, longing, and empty wishes. 

Empty wishes. 

Oh, how you’d love to see his soft smile whenever he lays his eyes on you, and his lips twitching up in a small smile; his eyes imbued in a love so pure it made your heart melt.

 The pain that soon followed after days and days of waiting failed to cease, but it can never truly compare to the ache you felt when you heard the words, “I am so sorry for your loss.”

You couldn’t accept it. He promised. 

He promised. 

The place where you once called your home became meaningless. The thought of staying in that place brought you a sense of grief and loneliness – this loneliness you couldn’t ever stand. It was pure, unadulterated torture. 

From the pictures you once both reminisced together to the familiar scent of his favourite strawberry shortcake lingering around the house, you knew your heart couldn’t take it. The following nights were spent with endless sobs and sore eyes. Through the pain, there was also resentment – resentment towards the person who snatched him away from you without a care in the world. With all your being, you wanted to curse him to the deepest depths of hell and burn in it. 

Nanami Kento. The mere thought of his name sent you bawling in an endless puddle of tears, the unforgiving ache dwelled deep within your chest. Oh, how much you’ve missed him. His sudden parting was a sudden reminder – a big slap in the face, of how cruel the world is. 

It was the beginning of a new day, and you mustered all the power to get up from your bed. You could never get used to having the mattress feeling lighter, more empty. The space beside you has gotten colder, gradually losing its touch of warmth. 

The house that once smelled of his favourite dessert now reeked of pure heartache. Sitting atop the dining table were bottles of wine and glasses that are yet to be washed, and droplets of tears stained all over the letters you and your husband once wrote to one another. 

To my dove, I know how much you worry for me, but please rest assured. There is nothing I want more than spending the remainder of my life with you, and I promise you I’ll keep you and our future family safe. I don’t plan on going anywhere, not without you by my side.  Also, there’s a new bakery near my place. I’ll bring you there with me once I return from my mission. I’ve heard from Gojo that their strawberry shortcake tastes good. I love you so much. Stay safe, and I’ll see you later. Yours truly, Kento

Droplets of water fell down to the surface of the aged paper, leaving a stain over your lover’s name written in ink. You couldn’t let him go. Everything around you reminded of him, and it pained you greatly. 

Your tears never ceased to fall, and you made no effort to stop it. 

You shook your head, ruffling your hands into your scalp. Even as you close your eyes shut, the memory of your husband giving you his last smile and kiss before he parted kept replaying in your head like a broken record player. It was torture. Pure torture – knowing that even if it stopped playing in your head, he won’t return. As much as you wished that you could stop your memories from playing repeatedly in your head you couldn’t ever bring yourself to move past his sweet smile, his soft touches, and his gentle kisses.

 After all, the thought of him always gave you a sense of longing for a time that will never return.

© 6TORU do not copy, repost, or translate my works on any platform.

[starsneverdiewritings]

Versace On The Floor - A Hwang Hyunjin Fanfic

✪ Genre: Fluff, Smut, Vampire AU ✪ Warnings: Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Reader is Female ✪ Characters: Hwang Hyunjin (Stray Kids), Original Female Character, First-person POV ✪ Word Count: 6.9k

“I thought I was a fool for no one, oh baby, I'm a fool for you” - Supermassive Black Hole, Muse

It starts with a gift. It ends with a secret. Hyunjin reveals himself to you at the annual party at your mansion. What you learn will shock you, in the best way.

A present. That’s all it was. A gift from your secret admirer. Who was this? You had no clue. It could be any of your close friends and while you had a hunch about where the random and, well, expensive gifts were from, you didn’t have any concrete evidence on who was buying you these things.

It started when a replacement bottle of your Gucci perfume showed up on your vanity conveniently just as you were about to run out of your original bottle. It’s not like you couldn’t buy another one, but finding it there was so… odd. You had asked all of your friends if they had left a bottle at your place, but each responded that they didn’t wear that scent or brand. Then, it was a pair of earrings you had been eyeing for a few weeks online. Instead of pulling the trigger on the Louis Vuitton website and just ordering them, you had been going back and forth about whether you really needed another pair. After a week of debating, you woke up to them on your bedside table. While it had scared you that someone had been in your room while you were sleeping, you ultimately figured that it had to be one of your male friends. They all came and went as they pleased, the house big enough, and lonely enough, that you welcomed their company. Some days you would wake up and walk down the hallway towards the smell of breakfast being made. On other days, you would find one (or three) of them sprawled out on the couch sleeping off a hangover.

Today’s gift was by far your favorite. You walked into your room from your shower to find a light blue evening gown hanging from the display section of your wardrobe, the black dress you had already laid out returned to its original spot in your closet. The note under it read ‘Wear Me’ in a messy script. You silently cursed the fact that you had, one, never seen any of your male friends’ handwriting, and, two, couldn’t get a lead on who the hell was leaving you these gifts. At any rate, you were never one to let a good dress go to waste. You ran the material between your fingers, inspecting the dress carefully. That’s when you noticed it. There, holding the strap on the right shoulder together was a silver emblem. You stepped closer, your mouth dropping in surprise when you recognized the design.

Who the fuck bought you a Versace dress?

Your mind spiraled. It wasn’t like you didn’t have nice dresses, but this, this was too much. You had to find out who was leaving you these gifts. The party tonight would be an opportunity to grill every male friend you had. You sat down at your vanity and planned out how you were going to get to the bottom of this. The party was a tradition, something you had grown up knowing. The family estate hosted it annually and people from all across the world would come. When you were seven, you met a girl at the party. Her name was Leena and she told you she was from Russia. You spent all night with her, but in the morning she was gone. You remembered crying to your mother about missing your friend and your mother explaining to you that she had to go home. Now that you had grown, you didn’t make new friends at the party despite all of the attendees being your age. When you were about sixteen, you started to notice that anyone over twenty-five stopped coming to the party and there was no one younger than you there. When you asked one of the staff about it, they gave you a small smile and said that everyone else was busy. Not questioning the circumstances anymore, you threw yourself into the party every year since then, getting effectively wasted with your group of male friends while everyone else looked on in disgust. A week after the party when you were seventeen, some of your female friends mentioned that the way you acted was “not lady-like” and that they “had been raised to present themselves correctly”. You couldn’t have given less of a shit and you told them so. Just because it was a fancy party with a bunch of rich men meant you couldn’t enjoy yourself? Fuck that. Since then, your female friendships had turned into seeing each other once a year. A week after the party when you were eighteen, your parents bought a château in the south of France and left you at the estate. You weren’t upset. You were overjoyed to have your friends over all the time and do whatever you wanted; it’s not like you couldn’t afford to do anything you wanted to do anyway. That was two years ago and now, being twenty, you were jittery with excitement about the party.

Last year, there were a few questions from staff about how you wanted the party run, but being left in charge with no guidance or plan, you instructed them to do what they had done the previous year. Some glances of confusion were thrown your way, but you shrugged them off just wanting there to be enough alcohol at the party for you and your friends. This year, however, you had made a plan and sat down with all of the staff members weeks ahead of the party. You had a list of requests and items you wanted for the party to run smoothly. At the end of the meeting, the staff seemed more comfortable and relaxed about how things would go, seemingly used to more outrageous requests than a simple “just reuse what we had last year”. This year would be a party that would be talked about for ages, you just knew it.

Finishing your makeup, a knock came from your door.

“Come in.”

The door slowly opened revealing a staff member, Analise, poking her head into the room.

“They are almost ready for you.”

You smiled at her.

“Thank you, I’ll be right there.”

She nodded and closed the door.

Standing, you made your way back to the wardrobe. Taking the dress off of the hanger, you stepped into it and slid it on. It hugged your hips perfectly. Everything from the sizing to the straps was perfect; the color complimenting your complexion, the fabric silky smooth against your skin, the bunching of material on the side draped perfectly, and a slit cut up your right thigh. Looking into the mirror, you smiled, satisfied with your outfit. You left your room, your silver heels clicking on the marble of the hallway. You made your way to the balcony overlooking the sprawling estate lined with gravel pathways, illuminated statues, and grandiose fountains. Various guests wandered about, but they all came to a halt the moment you appeared. You took a deep breath.

“Thank you for coming, everyone. We hope you have an amazing night. Enjoy!”

The crowd erupted in applause. You smiled, knowing that it didn’t matter what you said because they would clap anyway. You could have told them all to go fuck themselves and they would have cheered, already too stoned or tipsy to process what you were saying. You left the balcony and made your way down to the ballroom. You walked past people mingling, knowing that the calm vibe that was present wouldn’t last. The longer the party went on, the more rowdy everyone got. Due to this, you had instructed staff to keep only the ballroom open to guests; everything else in the house was closed. You walked out of the large double doors through the courtyard to the grounds. The place was packed, people sat in the grass talking and drinking, chased each other between statues, and stood next to the fountains. It wasn’t long before someone would be in one. You approached one of the open bars and ordered a drink.

“Wow, starting off strong this year, are we?”

A voice close to your ear spoke.

You whipped around to find Chan, Changbin, and Hyunjin dressed in matching black suits. Chan, the owner of the voice that had almost given you a heart attack, smiled wide. He held a glass of honey-colored liquid. To his left, Changbin stared down the neck of his beer bottle. Lastly, Hyunjin was looking everywhere but you, hands stuffed in his pockets and eyes towards the night sky. It wasn’t a quiet fact between you and Chan that you had a raging, uncontrollable crush on Hyunjin. The three of them had become your best friends over the past couple of years. Since your parents left, you sought solace and comfort in others, hating being alone in the large house. You and Chan, however, had grown closest, telling each other everything. The three of them were also the usual suspects when it came to getting the party rowdy, Chan acting as the ringleader as he threw back shot after shot.

“I figured if I’m going to catch up to where you are, I’ll have to start on the right foot.”

Chan smiled.

“Well, let’s get going then, yeah?”

You turned toward the bar, collecting your drink from the bartender.

“Let’s.”

You responded as you raised the glass towards him.

About an hour later, you were decently buzzed and not planning on stopping any time soon. As you suspected, people had gotten more comfortable and, therefore, more drunk. You figured in about an hour from now, Chan would be tossing Changbin in a fountain while Hyunjin scoffed. The instance was synonymous with the party at this point, tradition. The four of you had found your way back to one of the open bars, Chan ordering everyone multiple rounds of shots. Then, Hyunjin suggested getting away from the crowds so you found yourself walking next to him on a gravel path, Chan and Changbin stumbling behind the two of you while playfully shoving each other. The night air wrapped around your bare shoulders, causing you to shiver. Hyunjin noticed and paused to take off his suit jacket, revealing a black silk dress shirt tucked into his slacks accentuating his waist.

“What are you…”

“Just take it.”

He pulled the jacket around your shoulders.

“Thanks.”

You continued walking, following the path and beginning to loop back towards the party. For the next few seconds, it was silent aside from the muffled chatter of party guests and the music from the ballroom that filtered out of the doors and reached your ears. Then, a voice to your left, barely above a whisper cut through the night.

“Medusa ‘95. Looks good on you.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, not being able to process what he was talking about. Then you realized it. The dress.

“How did you-”

Hyunjin smirked. Your eyes widened. Your mind sobered as the realization hit you like a truck.

“You!”

Chan and Changbin had caught up with you and began to snicker behind you.

“It was you! Hwang Hyunjin, have you been leaving me all these expensive gifts?”

“Who else did you think it was?”

A slight smirk spread across his face. You raised your arm, and suddenly, Chan was at your side, holding your wrist.

“Now, now, let’s not beat poor, lovesick Hyunjin over here to death.”

Just when you thought the moment couldn’t get any more surprising, the word ‘lovesick’ registered in your brain.

“What- lovesick?”

You looked between the three of them, Chan and Changbin trying to suppress smiles while a violent blush spread from the tips of Hyunjin’s ears down his neck.

“Just forget it, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

He turned towards the house and began to walk away.

“Hyunjin, wait!”

You called after him. You turned to Chan and Changbin.

“Nice guys. Thanks, for that.”

Their faces dropped.

“Wait, we didn’t mean-”

“Save it.”

You turned away from them and chased after Hyunjin. You could see him in front of you, the blonde not slowing his pace. You called after him again.

“Hyunjin, come back! Hyunjin! Hwang Hyunjin stop walking away from me!”

That got his attention. He paused, not turning towards you but not walking further away either. After struggling to walk fast on the gravel in your heels, you came up to him and spun to stand in front of him with your back to the house.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bought you all that stuff. I was just-”

“Hyunjin.”

You cut him off. He fell silent, his eyes once again anywhere but you.

“Don’t apologize, I love the gifts. I’m just curious about how you, one, knew what to get me, and, two, got them into my room.”

His eyes flicked to yours and held them there.

“Magic.”

You scoffed playfully.

“Mmm, okay. Whatever you say, Mr. Magician.”

Hyunjin turned his head, noticing that Chan and Changbin had started walking towards you again even though they were quite a ways away.

“Do you want to go somewhere a bit quieter?”

He asked, his head still turned.

You nodded, your mouth suddenly dry at the thought of being alone with Hyunjin.

“Ye- yeah. Sure, whatever you want.”

He turned back to you, extending his arm for you to hold. Under the fabric of his shirt, his skin was noticeably cool. You chalked it up to the night air and his lack of a jacket. He led you up the gravel path, back to the courtyard, around the fountain in the middle, and out the gate to the back of the house. He was silent as you walked arm-in-arm. Your senses were heightened, something inside of you screaming ‘DANGER!’. You pushed the thought away, knowing Hyunjin would be the last person to put you in danger. The path you took around the side to the back of the house was dimly lit, the only light guiding your way leaking out of the ballroom windows. Hyunjin, however, acted as if he knew the place like the back of his hand. You could see his dark eyes scanning the shadows, seeing things you couldn’t. Suddenly, he paused. You tore your eyes away from his face to the metal gates in front of you.

‘Why did he come here?’

Hyunjin took a deep breath and walked forward. Your arms unlinked, leaving you standing in front of the gates while he pushed one open.

“Coming?”

You blinked and nodded.

Following him in, you pulled his jacket tighter around your shoulders. Moonlight illuminated the graveyard and Hyunjin’s skin shone. You stood at the entrance and watched as he walked deeper into the graveyard, his head hung low and fingertips brushing the top of each headstone he passed. He paused in the middle and turned back towards you. The graveyard was small with high block walls covered in ivy surrounding it, but it looked so different here in the dark. It looked bigger, scarier.

“Hey. Come here.”

Hyunjin spoke, his low tone sending shivers down your back. If anyone else had been with you or you had been closer to the party, you wouldn’t have heard him. Now, though, you walk towards him with your eyes locked on his. Once close enough, he reached out, arms circled your waist and pulled your body flush with his. Your breath caught in your throat and your hands held his shoulders, stabilizing yourself. He looked deep into your eyes, searching for something.

“Never in a million years did I think I’d be here with you.”

You blinked. What the hell?

“What do you mean?”

He scoffed.

“Oh, come on. After playing hard to get for so long? Now I’m the one who can finally have you.”

Your mind spun. What the fuck was he talking about?

He noticed the confused look on your face and pulled back a bit. He didn’t completely detach from where his hands were around your waist, but he put space between the two of you. You suddenly wished he didn’t.

“Do you have any idea what I’m talking about?”

You shook your head and he sighed.

“Do you even know why we do this every year?”

Another shake ‘no’ elicited another sigh.

“Well, then I guess I have to be the one to tell you. Shit, okay, umm… You know what? We should sit, come on.”

You felt so lost. What did he have to tell you? Why did he think you needed to sit down? You had always thought of the party as just a time to fuck around with your friends. Now, you were wondering what the real reason was. He led you to a bench against one of the walls and gestured for you to sit down. He stayed standing, beginning to pace in front of you. After a few minutes of him wringing his hands and pacing back and forth, you got fed up.

“Hyunjin, will you just spit it out already?”

He paused in front of you and exhaled.

“Okay. Uh, okay. So, you know we have this party every year, right?”

You nodded.

“Great. Your family has been notorious for having daughters, so about three hundred years ago the first party was advertised as ‘bring your sons to marry our daughter and be welcomed into our rich family’. Some people heard that and ran with it. Poor people came from all over in search of riches while another group of people came looking for protection. The first daughter chose a duke after a couple of years of having the annual party. When she took over the estate, she decided to just keep the parties going. She was hoping other people would be able to find love at one of the parties like she had. The people who had come to the first party looking for protection kept coming back. After years of being outsiders in society, these parties helped integrate them back. Anyways, ever since your parents brought you to that first party, these people have been trying to get you to fall in love with them. Think about it, how many people have come up to you at these pastries trying to make a move on you?”

You thought about it. There had been a lot of people, guys specifically, who had come up and tried to charm you. You, however, were so wasted at every party recently that you couldn’t recall any of their faces or what they had said. All you could remember was being irritated that someone was in between you and the next round of shots.

“I guess guys have come up to me, but I never really paid attention.”

Hyunjin nodded.

“That’s what I thought.”

“How do you know all of this?”

You knew the story of the parties, having been told by your mother growing up, but how did he? Hyunjin blew out a breath, seemingly debating if he should answer the question honestly.

“I was at the first party.”

You laughed.

“So, we’ve known each other since I was seven and only recently became friends?”

Hyunjin shook his head.

You stopped laughing.

“No, I mean I was at the first party.”

You refused to process what he said.

“Hyunjin, that was three hundred years ago. How…”

He sat down next to you, taking your hand in his.

“I think it’s important that you understand where I’m from. When I’m from.”

You were suddenly very aware of how close he was and how plush his lips looked. Everything about him made your brain fuzzy, pulling you in. He pulled back, a frown forming on your face.

“Baby, focus.”

You blinked, trying to clear your mind enough to listen to what he was saying.

“I was born six hundred years ago. I age ten years every three hundred. Do you understand?”

You refused to believe him. There was no way. All of the years you had spent infatuated with stories like this never prepared you for it to be true.

“So you’re… not human?”

He smiled and dropped his head. His shoulders shook with silent laughter. He raised his head again and looked you squarely in the eyes.

“No, no I’m not. There’s a term for what I am, but I don’t know if you’ll like it.”

“Well, I’m very obviously accepting of the fact that you’re not human and I don’t feel like you’re going to eat or attack me, so give it to me. What are you?”

His eyes sparkled with something you couldn’t place your finger on.

“I’m a vampire.”

You knew it. Your brain had concluded it some time ago when he had begun talking. It had all added up, the heightened senses, knowing his way around the property, refusing to take as many shots as you. Still, the confession made your blood run cold and your breathing stop. His voice cut through your brain's initial panic.

“Does that scare you?”

“No. If you wanted to do something to me, you would have already. We’re alone in a graveyard for fuck’s sake.”

He smiled.

“Good answer. That’s going to make this a lot easier for me.”

Before you could ask what he meant, he leaned in and touched his lips to yours. You smiled into the kiss, happy to have confirmation that his lips were as soft as they looked. His hand came up to cradle your face and you leaned in, resting a hand on his thigh. You scoffed internally at the fact that he thought his confession would scare you. If anything, it made you more attracted to him. There was an underlying sense of danger that heightened your senses and made kissing him feel like touching a live wire. Goosebumps ran from the top of your scalp down your arms and legs, making you shiver. Hyunjin pulled back.

“We should get you out of the cold.”

You smiled as an idea popped into your head.

“I know where we can go. Follow me.”

You stood, pulling him up from the bench and leading him back to the courtyard. You walked through it to the ballroom, weaving between guests until you made it to the back of the room. A staff member moved to stop you from entering the doors that led into the foyer but allowed you and Hyunjin to pass once she saw who was in front of her. As the door closed behind you, the party muffled into the background and the click of your heels on the marble floor rang in your ears. You stopped under the chandelier that hung in the entryway. A slower song from the ballroom filtered in from the cracks in the door. You instantly recognized it.

“Underneath the chandelier, we're dancin' all alone…”

How fitting. You spun to face Hyunjin who was walking closer to you, humming the lyrics. His hands circled your waist, mimicking earlier, as you looped your arms behind his neck. You pressed your bodies together and began to sway from side to side as you followed Hyunjin’s lead. You laid your head on his shoulder, looking up at him. You admired the way the lighting made his skin look golden and brought out the light brown stripes in his eyes. He looked down at you with, what had to be, the same expression you had on your face. He spun the two of you around, making it feel like you had your own personal ballroom. He leaned down, prompting you to lift your head off of his shoulder and meet his lips again. Your kiss intensified as your lips parted and his tongue made its way into your mouth. Your hands tangled in his blonde hair and you bit his lip, something you had been wanting to do ever since you had first laid eyes on him, and pulled a small, barely audible moan from him. He broke the kiss, leaving you wanting more. He touched his forehead to yours, breathing heavily.

“What…”

“Shhh, follow me.”

He let go of your waist and let you lead him out of the entryway and up the stairs. You knew what he wanted. You wanted the same thing. You had been wanting it ever since you saw him for the first time at the party when you were sixteen. Now, you weren’t going to let anything get in your way. You led him to your bedroom and closed the door. You turned to face him and found him sitting on the edge of your bed, leaning back on his elbows with his legs slightly spread. You walked towards him, slipping his jacket off of your shoulders and letting it hit the ground softly. You stood between his legs, looking down at him.

“Why did you get me all those gifts, Hyuni?”

He drew in a shaky breath at the nickname. You took note.

“I- I wanted to see you wearing something that I knew came from me.”

You began to lower yourself to your knees in front of him. His eyes stayed locked on yours the entire time.

“I wanted to see something that labeled you as mine.”

Now, you were kneeling in front of him, your head resting on his thigh. You looked up at him, eyelids low and seductive.

“Tell me how long you’ve wanted me.”

You pressed a light kiss to his inner thigh, causing his eyes to roll back in his head.

“Four years. Chan- fuck.”

You moved up, leaving a trail of hot kisses through the fabric.

“Chan dragged me to the party four years ago. I didn’t want to go… Then I saw you and kept coming back. Even when there wasn’t a party going on.” You had moved to the other thigh, kissing down it. You remembered him showing up in your life after the party. You never questioned it, but you always knew Chan had something to do with it. Hyunjin’s hand moved from the bed to the side of your face and pulled you up towards him. He kissed you with a need you had never felt before, pulling you to your feet and leading you backward. Your back hit the door as his hands traveled up and down your body, one stopped on the bare skin of your thigh, exposed by the slit in the dress. His hand moved under it and hiked your leg up to his hip. You wrapped it around and pulled him close, your bodies flush with one another’s. Your hands stayed planted in his hair. His mouth left yours and moved down your neck. His confession in the graveyard came back to you and made your breathing come in rapid pants. He pulled away and looked down at you.

“Are you scared?”

He asked you the same question from earlier. You shook your head. You weren’t scared, if anything you were turned on. He moved back to your neck, his teeth scraping over a vein, teasing you. You swallowed and drew in a breath.

“Hyuni…”

“Mmm?”

He hummed against your skin.

You laughed nervously.

“You’re not gonna…right?”

His lips traveled upwards until they were next to your ear.

“I won’t bite you, baby. That is, unless you ask.”

You smiled. One thing was for sure, you wouldn’t be a news headline.

He resumed kissing your neck, teeth and all causing you to shiver. He moved down to your shoulder, stopping at the strap of your dress.

“Fuck, you look so good in this dress. I knew you would.”

You brought his lips back to yours, the fire inside of you both reigniting and burning together. He places both hands under your thighs, effectively lifting you and carrying you over to the vanity. You gasped, the possibility of him being extremely strong completely slipping your mind. He always moved so elegantly that you never would have assumed that under that silk shirt were firm muscles that could carry you across the room. He placed you down and you silently thanked your past self for putting your makeup away earlier that day. Hyunjin’s lips were next to your ear and you could feel his breath when he spoke.

“I need you. Can I have you?”

You had never replied faster, an enthusiastic ‘yes!’ leaving your lips. Hyunjin pulled back and smiled at you. Oh yeah, whatever the hell he wanted to do to you he could. You didn’t know if that was your years-long crush speaking or his intoxicating energy that came with the territory. Whichever it was, you wanted every part of it. His hand traveled out from under your thigh, across the top of it, and up your leg until it dipped under where the fabric met at the top. His lips had made it back to yours and you could feel his fingers getting closer and closer until they were pulling your underwear to the side and running over your clit. You let out a gasp into the kiss, his tongue in your mouth furthering the sensation. Your body was hot all over and you knew it would only intensify when he was inside of you later. You shook in anticipation and his finger swept over your clit again before he pushed one into you. You moaned, dipping your head back and his free hand came up to grip your chin.

“Eyes on me baby girl. I want to watch you react.”

Fucking freak. You liked it, though. His fingers continued to move until he could slide another in, stretching you out and leaving your mouth open while your chest heaved. His fingers inside of you curled, hitting just right over and over again while you called out for him.

“Hyun- Hyunjin. Oh, fuck. Oh my go- Shit.”

The entire time he whispered encouraging praises to you.

“That’s it. Good girl.”

“Just like that.”

“That’s my baby.”

“Does that feel good? Yeah? Tell me how good it feels.”

His eyes studied your face as you fell apart, your eyes closing, your head dipping back between your shoulders. His fingers continued, moving at an even pace that felt like it would break you into a million pieces from the inside out. After a few minutes, he sped up every so slightly, causing you to lurch forward and rest your head against his shoulder, your hands clutching at the back of his shirt. You could feel yourself on the edge, he brought you closer and closer with every curl of his fingers… until he stopped. Your eyes popped open, the feeling of defeat sinking in. You pulled back from him as his finger slipped out of you. He pulled back and smiled. He fucking smiled. If you weren’t so tired, you would have smacked him.

“Hyuni, why’d you stop?”

Your eyes were lidded with exhaustion and your voice came out in a whine.

Hyunjin laughed lightly at you.

“Trust me, baby.”

You held the top of his shirt where the top two buttons were undone. Whore. You pulled him closer.

“I need you.”

That did it. Hyunjin’s eyes sparked and caught fire. His hands moved swiftly from your thighs to your waist, picked you up from the vanity, and spun you around so that your back was to him and you were facing the bed. One of his hands moved to the small of your back and traced the hidden zipper up, finding the tab and pulling it down. The strap on your shoulder slid off, as did the rest of the dress and your underwear (thanks to his quick fingers), leaving you exposed in front of him.

“Sit on the bed, darling.”

He purred softly behind you. You followed his command and sat down, facing him where he stood with his back against the vanity. He began rolling up the sleeves of his black silk dress shirt, exposing his forearms. You watched the tendons flex as his fingers pulled at the material. Your eyes shifted to the mirror behind him, watching the back muscles under his shirt expand and contract. The entire time his head was low and his eyes were burning a hole into you. He walked towards you, stepping carefully over the dress on the floor. Stopping in front of the bed, he leaned down, placing his hands on your thighs. He hooked them under you and pushed you up the bed. He lowered himself between your legs and began running his fingertips up your legs. The sensation made your back arch, yearning for him to be inside of you again in any capacity.

“Hyuni, please.”

He groaned.

“Say that again.”

“Hyuni?”

He dropped his head onto your shoulder and moaned. You ran a hand into his blonde locks and pulled him up to meet your eyes.

“Take your clothes off.”

He moved so fast that you still felt his weight on top of you as he stood, undid the buttons of his shirt, and stepped out of his black slacks and briefs. He didn’t crawl on top of you when he made his way back towards you. Instead, he lowered himself to his knees, prompting you to push yourself onto your elbows, watching him. His torso rested on the bed, his hands gripped your thighs and spread them apart as he lowered his lips to your clit. You dropped against the mattress with a moan, his lips finally doing what you had wanted all along. As his tongue circled, his fingers found themselves inside of you again causing you to twitch and grind against his face. He made no effort to stop you, groaning in response every time your hips bucked and strings of curses and moans left your lips. You pleaded his name over and over again, begging him to bring you to the edge again. He moaned against you, the sound pushing you closer and closer. His whines for you were music, the lightest noise you could imagine mixed with the most guttural urge to please that you had ever heard. Sex with a vampire had never been on your real-life-possibilities radar, but here you were, and fuck if it wasn’t the best head you’d ever received in your life. Your orgasm ripped through you, feeling like it would split your skin and break your bones in one moment while transporting you to a fuzzy cloud of bliss the next. Hyunjin kissed your inner thighs, making you shiver with each sensation. He brought himself up and hovered over you, his eyes low and dark. Oh, he wasn’t done. You registered what he wanted and held his shoulders, pausing him from going any further just yet. You studied his face, his lips red and covered in you and his blonde hair creeping down his neck, messy from your fingers pulling at it. His arms bulged from holding himself up, his muscles taught and firm. His broad chest expanded and contracted as he breathed above you. Further down, his abs were ridgid and golden in the low lighting of your bedroom. He looked like he stepped out of a fucking Victorian oil painting. Maybe he did. You didn’t focus on logistics for too long, your need for him overtaking your senses.

“Love.”

His voice snapped your eyes back to his.

You tucked a strand of hair behind his ear.

“Hyuni.”

He closed his eyes and exhaled.

“Need you, baby.”

His head dropped, placing his forehead against yours.

“How much?”

His head raised. His eyebrows cinched together. You ran your fingers through his hair again.

“Show me, Hyuni. Show me how much you need me.”

In a flash, he was off of you again, standing, and flipping you over onto your stomach. One of his arms snaked around your torsos, the other around your chest. He pulled you up onto your knees, his arms caged around you firm, but gentle. Your back pressed against his chest and you held on to his arms. In a singular roll of his hips, he was inside of you, his lips next to your ear while he whispered praises to you. Your head dropped back against his chest and your hands gripped his thighs behind you. Even standing while you were elevated on the bed, he was still taller than you. His hips pushed up again, making you cry out. If he had not been holding you against him, you would have fallen face-first into the mattress. He rolled his hips into you over and over, feeling the friction inside of you made your heart and breathing accelerate. His head lowered in tandem with his arm around your torso. While his mouth left wet-hot kisses below your ear and down your neck, his fingers lightly brushed over your clit. The slightest pressure caused your moans to mix with his. In reality, his arm could have stayed around your waist. The feeling of him inside of you was enough to have your muscles tensing and cause you to clench around him. He detached from where he was leaving hickeys against your neck and raised his head. To the right was the vanity he had you on earlier. The reflection in the mirror caught his eye and he turned his head to watch himself fuck in and out of you. You looked like the fucking picture of beauty, your skin shining golden with a sheen of sweat, your body draped back over his, your eyes closed in bliss, your head tilted back against him exposing your neck, and your lips parted spilling sinful noises drove him crazy. You called out to him, pulling his focus back to you in front of him.

“Fuck, Hyunjin, oh fuck.”

He smiled above you and moved his hand on your clit faster. Almost instantly, your body tensed, coaxing him to finish with you. Your moans mixed and your body fell backwards against his. He stayed grounded, holding you up until he could move you to lie down on the mattress. Once he did, he crawled next to you, opening his arms to you. You shuffled into them. His skin was cool which was a welcome contrast to how warm you were. You both laid there for some time until he broke the silence.

“I expected you to be scared.”

You angled your head, which was on his chest, up to look at him.

“What?”

“When I told you. I expected you to run away or something. Most people do.”

You propped yourself up with one arm and raised your other hand to run your fingers through his hair.

“Hyuni, I will never be scared of you.”

He smiled.

“I have a question, though.”

“I figured you would have a few. Ask away.”

“When the fuck were you born?”

He laughed, his smile so wide his eyes turned to crescents and his teeth glinted in the soft lighting. You smacked his chest lightly.

“What? It’s a perfectly reasonable question!”

His laughter died down, but his smile stayed.

“No, it is. I just thought it would be more along the lines of ‘how many people have you killed’ or something like that.”

You rolled your eyes.

“I don’t know if I want that information.”

“Good, I wasn’t planning on telling you anyway. To answer your question, it was sometime in the 1400’s. I wasn’t bit or anything, I was just born like this. I don’t know the exact year, but it was around that time. I’ve tried to figure it out, but even after all these years math still confuses the fuck out of me. I should ask Changbin, I’m sure he could figure it out.”

You had laid back down on his chest by now and watched as he spoke. He was staring at the ceiling as if he was talking to himself.

“Remember how I said at the first party that people who were outcasted by society came to it to hopefully work their way back in?”

You nodded.

“Well, they did. There are quite a few people here like me, but you’d never know.”

“Anyone I know?”

He looked at you.

“Yeah, actually. A couple of people you know very well.”

You thought for a second. The only people you knew that well were Changbin and Chan, but there was no way they could be vampires. Or could they? Hyunjin could sense the wheels in your head turning, his smile getting a bit wider.

“No way.”

He nodded.

“Yes, way.”

“This whole time the three of you have been fucking vampires and you didn’t tell me? What the fuck?”

He barked out a laugh and pulled you closer.

“It’s hard to tell people. Especially people we like. We don’t want to lose anyone.”

“I’m still mad you didn’t tell me sooner. You’ve seen my copies of Twilight. What made you think I would run away in terror?”

“Fiction and real life are two different things, babe.”

Hynjin planted a kiss on your forehead. Outside, you could hear the party still going strong. You looked at the clock on your bedside table. 11:59. You sat up.

“C’mon.”

Hyunjin watched as you pulled a blanket off the bed and around your shoulders. You made your way to the window and flicked the lights off. Hyunjin stood and joined you, as you opened the blanket for him to wrap his body in next to you. Outside of the window, the sky began to light up in every color of the rainbow. The fireworks illuminated the estate and you could hear the cheers of the partygoers below. Hyunjin wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you towards him, and placed a kiss on your forehead again. He looked down at you, your eyes locking as his skin flashed different colors from the light of the fireworks.

“I don’t tell people this because they’re usually not around long enough for me to tell them, but I have to tell you.”

“Okay.”

“I love you.”

“Can I tell you something, too?”

“Yeah.”

“I love you too, Hyuni.”

Hiiiiii, I loved writing Hyunjin!!! If anyone has any requests, please let me know!! You can find me @starsneverdie (https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsneverdie) on AO3 and @starsneverdie_ (https://x.com/starsneverdie_) on Twitter. I promise I'm super cool and funny and sexy consider interacting with me over there!! As always, likes and reblogs are always appreciated!

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Bread (Pero x wifey!reader)

Read on AO3

Sequel to Seed and Sprout. (Series now very cleverly titled Pero x wifey!reader)

Fandom: The Great Wall

Tags/warnings: Pero eats it from the back, PinV sex, Pero goes a little hard, some cum play, breeding kink blink and you'll miss it.

Words: 1,806

Summary: You mean to bake bread while the baby is napping, but your husband Pero has other plans.

A/N: Thanks to @pazizz for the idea, and sorry to keep you hanging for so long!

The rain is pitter-pattering against the windows, and you gaze out at the gray world outside. Autumn has arrived, and with it a slowing down of things, chores, life. You welcome it, after a hot summer that, in addition to your normal chores, included taking care of a baby. Not that little Tomás was too difficult: you strapped him to your body and carried him while doing your chores, it was as simple as that. He slept uneasily during the nights, but Pero gladly walked around with night after night, rocking him in his arms, patiently despite the crying. An upside to this was that the baby slept well during the days, and now you have a bread dough that has been rising since last night, and at least two hours to bake.

Sleeves rolled up, you spread flour on the table and begin to knead the dough. The baking oven spreads its heat in the kitchen, and soon your hairline is damp and your cheeks rosy and shiny. Still, you hum to yourself as you work the dough, rejoicing in the feeling of your strong arms, the smell of the dough, the warmth of your home. You loosen the laces that adjust your neckline, allowing it to widen enough to drop down one shoulder. You are still breastfeeding, and Tomás ate well before his nap, so your breasts feel wonderfully light.

The door opens and Pero steps in, bringing with him a gush of autumn. Stepping out of his boots and hanging up his coat, he is then left standing at the door for a moment, watching you. Looking up, you smile at him.

”Everything okay?”

”Yes.”

You go back to the dough, and Pero walks to the bedroom door.

”Is the baby asleep?”

”Just went down.”

”Good.”

Pero comes up behind you, hands low on your hips as he kisses your sweaty neck.

”Seeing you like this makes me stiff,” he murmurs, trailing his lips down your neck. You don’t stop kneading for one second.

”Like what?”

”Sweaty, disheveled, tits out.”

A shiver runs down your spine at your husband’s low voice, and when he presses himself against your ass – oh, he is stiff indeed! – your hands come to a stop, and a tiny whimper escapes you.

”Pero, I don’t have time, I need to do this before he wakes up...” you protest feebly, fingers thick in the dough as you turn your head to allow Pero better access to your neck.

”I’ll watch him if he wakes up before you’re finished,” he vows as he slowly moves his hands to your front, cupping your tits and pushing them up.

”The oven is hot now, I can’t keep it this warm for long...” you try, eyes closing when Pero’s hands roam further, one up to your neck, fingers softly closing over your wild pulse, the other down between your legs, cupping you over the fabric of your skirts.

”The oven will be fine, I however will perish if I don’t get to taste my wife...”

Your dripping cunt makes the decision for you, and you turn your head more, finding his lips, and give your consent in a desperate kiss. Pero pushes you against his hand, against the table, hard cock rubbing your buttocks through layers of clothing. You mean to turn around, but he keeps you in place.

”You said you were in a hurry,” he grins into the kiss, and releases your neck to quickly gather up your skirts. A strong, broad hand between your shoulder blades guides you to bend over the table, and he kneels behind you.

”Open up for me, wife,” he breathes ruggedly, hot breath burning your uncovered sex. You obey, parting your legs more, and hold your breath in anticipation, release it in a low moan when Pero finally kisses your cunt.

How could you ever say no to your husband? During your recuperation time from childbirth, Pero had respectfully waited, given you all the time you needed to be ready for intimacy again. He never rushed or pressured you, but you could tell after a couple of months that he was aching for you. And truth be told, so were you.

You know Pero better than anyone, know the man behind the scarred glare the rest of the world saw. You know so very intimately how that glare can soften, how lovingly the callused hands can caress.

And still, seeing Pero with his son opened up a whole new understanding of him. He is so gentle with the baby, so careful and patient. And his devotion to you has grown more than you thought possible since you gave him your son. He loved you, adored you, respected you before, now he worships you.

How could you say no to such a man? A man who sees you bake bread, and immediately grows hard in his breeches? Who is now on his knees behind you, devouring your cunt?

You don’t. Instead, you push back, stoking his hunger and your pleasure when he sucks at your bud, as gluttonous as the baby suckling your breast. He kneads your buttocks like you kneaded the dough earlier, fingers pushing and pinching into your soft flesh. You scratch at the table like you’re trying to hold onto the surface, flour powders your sweaty chest and the front of your clothes but you don’t care when your toes start to curl inside your socks as Pero’s lips and tongue take tighten the spring deep inside you. You mewl, your thighs shake, and Pero growls into your cunt, latches on and sucks hard. You slap your hand over your mouth to cover the loud moan that your climax pulls from you, and your nostrils are filled with finely ground flour that makes you snort and giggle, all the while Pero lavishes your dripping cunt with kisses.

”My love, my beautiful wife,” he murmurs between the kisses. ”So beautiful, so wet for me.”

You wipe your nose with the back of your hand and mumble something in reply. Pero kisses your buttocks, both of them, before standing up with a grunt. He pulls you up and holds you flush against him, back to chest, and seeks your lips for a kiss. He, however, stops when he sees your face, then smiles widely.

”You have a little flour on you, wife.”

With one big thumb, he gently brushes at your lips and cheeks before kissing you. He tastes of moss and sea; the flavours of your sex, your release, and you push back against him, eager for more.

”What is a little flour spilled compared to knowing my husband’s big cock?” you quip, earning a low chuckle before he presses his lips to yours once more. You reach behind you, find his belt and tug at it to let him know that you need him, and you sigh into the hungry kisses when Pero unbuckles his belt and opens the front of his breeches. His cock springs free, immediately seeking its way between your upper inner thighs, like it can smell you. You reach down, finding him and leading him right. Pero groans when the thick head slides in, his grip on you tightens momentarily, and you whine when he pushes on, further in, until you’re trapped between his hips and the table, your cunt full of his thick, hard cock. The kisses have ebbed out, you’re just breathing heavily against each other’s lips now, and Pero swallows audibly before pressing his forehead to your shoulder. You lick your lips and move back, hissing at the fullness.

”Husband, I need you,” you beg breathlessly, ”take me now, hurry.”

Roused by your plea, Pero takes a firm hold of your hips, and starts to rut into you. It’s in moments like these that you feel his strength, sense his violent past as a warrior. He grips you hard, teetering on the edge of too hard but never crossing the line, and ravages you in a way that doesn’t seem to belong in this quiet life, this sheltered village by the sea, where nothing ever happens and people are farmers and fishermen.

But being fucked like this does belong in your life, and you relish it, love the way he claims you, love the adventure of his force, and the way it frees you, makes you feel like something wild and untamed. You’re not ashamed when you ask him to go harder, and you lean over the table, hands clamped over your mouth when he does. Your hips will be bruised later from hitting the edge of the table over and over again, your front is covered in flour, Pero is growling somewhere behind and above you, and you claw at the table when it’s almost too much, but your still want more.

When he reaches his climax, he pushes all the way in, shoving the table forward an inch, and he lays down on you with a loud groan. You feel his cock pulsate inside you, your insides stained with rich, thick cum, and you turn your head to chase his lips for a kiss. His facial hair grates at your cheek and chin as you try to kiss but it’s mostly just panting into each other’s mouth. Still, you need it, need his breath, his weight on you, his hand that you only just now realize is around your neck, thumb slowly stroking your jugular. You swallow, and he feels it.

”Was I too rough?” he asks hoarsely, hands all soft and gently searching your skin for sore spots. You shake your head, smiling blissfully.

”No, husband, never. It was divine.”

He chuckles tiredly against your ear, one hand leaving your body to push himself up to stand. Your hum, the angle changing how he feels inside of you, and you realize that he’s still hard. He pulls out, however, and caresses your buttock.

”Being inside you is divine,” he tells you gruffly, and you hum, slowly rising up. Pero’s seed starts to ooze out of your cunt, and he places a hand on your lower back, stopping you. You feel the tip of his cock against your folds, catching the cum that seems so cold when outside your body, and then he slides back in, pushing his cum back inside you with a whimper. You catch your lower lip between your teeth in a throaty exhale.

”Pero...”

”I know, my love, I just don’t want to waste it.”

He pulls you up and brings you against himself in a soft embrace, dry lips on your neck. Shivering from the overstimulation, he still doesn’t stop his slow movement inside you.

”Don’t want in anywhere but inside your juicy cunt...”

You moan again, wanton and shameless, like a bitch in heat.

”Then fuck it deeper, husband.”

[thezombieprostitute]

Tech Tuesday: Syverson

A little short, sweet and spicy chapter inspired by this post by @navybrat.

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety, Mild/Implied smut. Please let me know if I missed any!

A/N: Established relationship. Reader is plus sized female. No other descriptors used.

A/N2: Sorry this is late! I swear I had it queued up and ready to go earlier today!

Previous

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Spa days weren't exactly something you were interested in. Having strangers wash your hair, rub your feet, cover your eyes with cucumbers. It was all just too much for your anxiety. And that was before you took the cost into account. But that didn't mean you couldn't still find spa adjacent ways to relax.

Sometimes, when it was just you and Lily, you'd enjoy soaking your feet in a little spa-like soaker. The warm water and gentle massage were very relaxing. Especially after Lily learned it wasn't an second water bowl. When your periods got rough, sometimes all you could do was sit there, feet soaking, heating pad over your pelvis. Lily snugged up to you, unsure of what was wrong but knowing you needed help.

Your favorite, though, was when Sy was home. Anytime you asked for a spa treatment, he smiled and prepared the body lotion for the hour long massage you were going to get. His hands were damn near magical with how good they felt. So warm, so strong, yet able to be gentle for you. Your entire body felt like jelly by the time he was done with you.

Though, in truth, he still wasn't done.

After your massage, when you can't move from how good you feel, Sy flips you onto your back and starts eating you out. He calls it his "payment" for the massage and who are you to deny him when he makes you feel so damn good? He knows he's done a good job when he has you crying out his name for the fifth time. That's when he pulls away from your oversensitive pussy and gives you a deep kiss, your juices still in his beard.

"Tell me what you need, Darlin'," he growls.

"You, Captain," you breathe. "Need you."

"That's my girl," he replies as he moves away just long enough to take off his clothes. One time he tried to keep his shirt on but you pouted that you wanted all of him. Since then, he's always removed the shirt as well.

You swear you'll never get used to the way he so easily manhandles you into whatever position he wants. It's thrilling, if only because you trust him so much. He loves to position you so that he can watch your tits bounce as he pounds into you. Loves watching your face when you cum. Loves how you call his name. He swears there's nothing more beautiful.

He always tells you that there is no "keeping score" in these kinds of things, but you're not one for receiving all the pleasure without giving some back.

On his bad days, when the nightmares wake him up, when the PTSD hits again, it's not just Lily that helps him. You know what smells to keep out of the apartment, which ones to keep to help him get back to you. You know when he needs space and when he needs to be held. You've abstained from alcohol because it was always too tempting for him to keep around. You know when to push him to talk, when to let it go.

You take care of each other, like you promised to when you exchanged vows. Neither of you ever regrets it.

Next

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory;

@kingliam2019; @late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82; @ozwriterchick; @ronearoundblindly

[bullet-prooflove]

Kitty: Ryan x Reader (Yellowstone)

Tagging: Tagging: @kmc1989 @trublu2u @yousigned-upforthis @queenslandlover-93

Companion piece to:

Wishes - Ryan wishes things were different between the two of you.

Three months after Ryan ends things with you, he’s sees you in another man’s pickup truck kissing him on the mouth. He doesn’t recognise the vehicle. An out of towner he thinks. One of those guys with a holiday home that overlooks the mountains. He hates men like that, who buy their way onto the landscape. You used to too and that’s the first tip off.

When you step out of the car and head into the coffee shop, Ryan can’t help but follow. He’s got a nose for trouble and he can sense there’s something more to this than meets the eye. It’s in the clothes you’re wearing, they’re expensive, classy, high end. The woman he knows is practical, she didn’t understand why people would spend thousands on designer brands.  

It’s at the counter he makes his presence known, you order a honey almond latte and he slaps down a couple of bills to pay for it. You tilt your head up to meet his eyes and Ryan’s breath catches because he’s falling in love with you all over again.

“What are you doing with him?” The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them and he watches the walls slam down blocking him out.

“That isn’t your business anymore.” You remind him before turning your attention back towards the barista as she undertakes your drink.

“I know you.” Ryan says as he leans on the counter. “And I can tell when you’re attracted to someone, you get this look in your eyes…”

Your gaze flickers up to meet his and the edges of his mouth tip up into a sad smile because he’s missed that look, the one that makes him feel like he’s the only man in the world. Your cheeks flush and you tilt your head away pretending to study the board on the back wall.

“So you’re not attracted to him which begs the question…”

It clicks then why you would let a man like that share a moment so intimate.

“You’re undercover.” He says quietly. “He’s part of something bigger?”

You don’t say anything, your focus remains fixated on the board and Ryan leans in close, his unique scent flooding your sense. He smells like the outdoors, like pine trees and clear streams that you’ve both bathed in naked. His hand comes to rest on your arm, squeezing lightly.

“Tell me you’re being safe.” He whispers fiercely. “Promise me…”

“Again.” You say as you pick up your take out coffee cup. “Not your concern.”

“Katalina…” He drawls your name and your eyes flicker up to the coffeeshop door just as the bell jingles.

“It’s Kitty.” You tell him, tearing your arm out of his grasp and his jaw almost drops because you fucking hate that nickname. You’d almost torn his throat out the first and only time he’d used it.

It’s when he tips his head up and watches you walk towards that fuckhead that it dawns on him. Kitty, she’s your undercover identity and you play that part perfectly as you laugh at that asshole’s joke and hand him his coffee, the one that Ryan’s just paid for.

It’s as the other man leads you out, his hand coming to rest on your lower back, that you cast a final glance over your shoulder. Your eyes meet his and Ryan has a bad feeling, a really terrible fucking feeling sitting right in the centre of his chest.

It’s as you get into the car he takes the picture, not of you but the man you’re with.

Ryan’s going to figure out this shit, wherever you like it or not.

Love Ryan? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[eroticomens]

(i wanted love, i needed love) most of all

in which Logan casually says 'i love you' and Wade talks about The Lion King a normal amount. set after my fic Empty With You but works on its own as just stupid cute fluff~ Wade’s always envisioned the first time Logan says ‘I love you’ would be a dramatic declaration, most likely mid-nasty, at which point they would switch from nasty and shift gears to making love. It’s a pretty common fantasy in his brain. Never fails to leave his hands sticky and his heart even stickier. 

He doesn’t need Logan to say it. He wants him to, more than anything in the world, but he’s learning how to be less of a brat these days. …Trying to, anyway. So he doesn’t push, doesn’t prod. He just tells Logan that he loves him every chance he gets, and takes the kisses, hugs, and affectionate smiles he receives in return. 

Logan’s headed off for work. It’s a stupidly early shift. It’s 5 AM, the actual asscrack of dawn, and he’s lacing up his boots while Wade makes him coffee in a thermos (definitely not spiked with whiskey) and stuffs it into his lunch box, along with a turkey sandwich that’s mostly meat.

Wade plops the sticker suffocated lunch box down on the couch next to Logan, leaning against the armrest and wrapping Logan’s bathrobe tighter around himself. He’s got his own, of course, but Logan’s is just comfier. 

“Whatcha buildin’ today, Peanut? Casino? Old folks home? Walk-in STD clinic? Combination of all of the above? Blind Al will be thrilled.” Wade chatters. 

A single soft laugh. “Same thing we been workin’ on all week. The overpass down by Jacob’s Convenience.” 

“Are they, though– convenient? I’d categorize a thirty minute walk as a Hassle.” 

“Maybe not. But they got good cigars.” Wolvie shrugs, standing to leave. 

He makes his way to the door with Wade in tow, as usual. “Don’t forget your lunch, sugar tits.” Wade rattles the box behind him. 

“Thanks, angel.” Logan says with a smile. His fingers are warm and rough and familiar as they brush Wade’s to take his lunch. Then he cups Wade’s cheek in his free hand and gives him a chaste kiss. “I’ll be back around 6. Try not to miss me too much.” 

“I’m not making any promises.” Wade stands on his tippy toes to give Logan another kiss. The only time Logie gets to be taller is when he’s got his work boots on and Wade’s barefoot. Wade might enjoy it a little too much. “Love you.” He says as he pulls away like he always does. 

But today, Logan replies: “Love you, too.” And even though it’s the middle of winter, his world blooms like spring. He swears he smells flowers and sunshine, like the words themselves have taken root in his soul. 

[Hold the fuck up. Was that a typo, author? Are you fucking with us right now? We will fucking gut your pumpkin seed munching ass–]

He must look as flabbergasted as he feels, because Logan tilts his head. “…Y’okay there?” 

“You said it,” Wade says flatly at first… then with much more enthusiasm as it sinks in. “You said it!!” He squeals and leaps into Logan’s arms, long limbs encircling Logan’s shoulders and waist as he buries his face in the other man’s neck. 

Logan’s deep, rich laughter vibrates through every bone in his body and makes his dying cells feel alive. “Yeah….Guess I did…” 

Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry. Wade tells himself, but it’s too late. He’s already sniffling into Logan’s shirt as the other man rubs his upper back soothingly. “Don’t go to work,” He says softly. Logan’s quiet for a minute, clearly weighing the options in his head. “Wade…” “Don’t go,” Wade pleads, kissing his neck and nuzzling into him. This draws a long, resigned sigh from his lover, and Wade grins against his skin triumphantly. “Stay home with me. Say there was an emergency. Say your father died and you had to move to the jungle for a few years and eat bugs, but you’re back to reclaim the throne from your uncle Scar–” “Wade.” Logan interrupts. “Yeah?” “You’re an idiot. …and I love you.” Wade’s feet wiggle and his toes curl in uncontainable excitement, like Logan’s words are electric. He grips the other man tightly with his thighs and leans back to grab his face and pull him into a kiss– a real kiss, with tongue and a greedy little nibble of Logan’s bottom lip at the end. He can feel Logan trying to smile. “Why now? Why today?” Wade can’t help but ask. There’s a short pause while Logan assembles his thoughts. Wade’s used to giving him an extra minute to articulate his feelings, so he just strokes his kitty cat’s hair affectionately, earning a soft rumble. 

[It’s a goddamn purr.] ((But Wolvie doesn’t like when we call it that...)) [Can’t stop us from saying it inside.]

Wade stifles a tiny giggle.

“Think I been sayin’ it back in my head for months. Just…actually came out today.”

Wade wrinkles his nose and blinks fresh tears from his eyes. “Stop. I’m losing my fucking mind right now. God, I love you so much, you big beautiful bastard. Please tell me you’re gonna stay home so we can roll around in the grass and fuck like lions?”

Logan laughs again, hugging him close. “Alright, alright. I won’t go to work today, Red.”

“Oh, you’re going to work, alright, Simba.” Wade grins, still watery eyed. ”On this ass.” 

[bubbysawyer]

A Shit Day

(Thomas Hewitt x Reader / Blurb)

You rolled your eyes hearing Charlie scream, not knowing who or what he was screaming at. He was always screaming, yelling, hollering, about SOMEthing. You let out a huff and pinched your brow, letting out a breath before looking on in the kitchen.

It'd been a while since you'd been here, with Thomas...originally being prey, winding up in the end as Thomas' spouse. You looked at the little gold band on your hand and smiled. Sick and twisted as this family was-

Thomas. Thomas was.. He is a big, quiet, sensitive man. Yeah, cannibal. Yeah, he's killed. It might sound horrific to anyone else outside, but you KNEW him. Yeah yeah yeah that sounds soooo typical for someone in love with a killer, but hey, why don't you shut up, already?

A loud thud came from the room and you shot up, knowing that sound. You put your things down to the side- Dinner wouldn't be ready yet anyway- And hopped out.

"Tommy!"

He looked ragged. He was covered in blood and dirt. His face looked down.

"Oh, Tommy..Bad day...?"

He only looked to the side. You could tell now what he felt. Absolute shit day.

You rushed to his side and rubbed his arm before taking his hand, guiding him to a couch and sitting down before patting your lap.

He stared at you for a moment.

"Down, honey..."

With a sigh he fit himself as best he could alongside you, head in your lap. You stroked his hair..but made a note of how it needed washing.

"There he is....there's my Tommy.. Have a bad day, honey?"

He reached up and gripped your hand. Tight. That's a yes.

"Oh, darling...It's okay.." You leaned down, tapping his chin so he would move his face upwards for you to kiss his lips. A hum rumbled in his chest.

".....I will deal with Charlie later. I'll beat him with the damn spatula if I have to, the damn fucker,"

You tensed as Thomas shook into your side before you realized he was laughing. And you teased his hair. It smelled of leather and iron.

"You're..."

You looked down and nudged his chin up, making him look up at you. Those big, brown, beautiful eyes you could get lost in. He blinked. You forgot what you were even saying.

"...I love you, Tommy."

A loving huff and grunt came out against your cheek and so did a clumsy kiss on your lips. You swooned a good minute before snapping out of it and sitting up.

"Okay, big guy. Gotta finish dinner before Miss Luda gets home."

Thomas shot up and scrambled-

"You can be my good boy and sit down across from me, telling me how it is."

He froze. He liked being called that. By you.

"Go on,"

He nodded and sat down. He was pink. You leaned over to kiss him.

"I got you extra cookies for later for your bad day, cutie."

He lit up. He grabbed your arm and pushed his face on your cheek (a kiss). You laughed a bit.

"...and don't you worry, Charlie will be getting his soon," you punctuated by slapping a wooden spoon in your palm, a snarl on your face as you turned to your cooking. Thomas couldn't help but huff in amusement.

[sur-i-ki]

10/20

At the end of the day

it's fluff. Tooth-rotting, sweet, domestic fluff. Redemption arc core before going back to the villain arc

The house felt quiet when he finally pulled into the driveway, exhaustion settling into his bones with every step. His feet ached, his mind ached. It had been another long week, and he was drained. The weight of work had been pressing on him so heavily that even the thought of his family had begun to feel distant. There was no holiday for him this year—no time away to unwind in the mountains as he’d hoped. Deadlines, meetings, emergencies had all piled up one after the other, each time a reason to stay just a little longer, to push off the time he so desperately needed to be with them.

But as he stepped inside the house, that overwhelming sense of exhaustion began to fade.

Laughter. A soft, familiar sound—his child’s giggles. His heart did a little skip at the sound, and curiosity tugged at him. Something was different.

He set his bag down by the door, and his eyes scanned the room, immediately drawn to the living room. It was transformed. The floor was covered in blankets—thick, colorful sheets draped over the furniture. Pillows were scattered everywhere, and a lopsided blanket fort stood in the middle of the room, held up by every chair, every couch cushion, and even a few kitchen chairs hastily shoved together.

And in the center of it all, there they were.

You, sitting cross-legged on the floor, grinning up at him, your face lit by the soft glow of a lantern inside the fort. His child, barely able to contain his excitement, jumped up from the fort’s entrance, his little eyes wide with glee.

“Daddy, look!” he shouted, waving their hands. “We made a fort!”

His chest tightened at the sight. A lump formed in his throat as he stood frozen for a moment, taking in the beautiful chaos before him.

You stood, walking toward him with a smile that said everything. “Welcome home,” you said softly, the tenderness in your voice wrapping around him like a warm embrace. The exhaustion in his body melted a little more at the sight of you.

He couldn’t find the words at first. His eyes flicked between you, the fort, and his little one who was now eagerly tugging at his hand, pulling him toward their creation. There was so much love, so much effort poured into this little thing, and his heart ached with it.

“You guys… did all of this?” he asked, his voice soft with awe. “Just for me?”

You nodded, that same smile never leaving your face. “You’ve been working so hard. We knew you didn’t get your holiday, so we decided to bring the camping experience to you.” Your voice was playful, but there was something deeper behind it. Something warm and knowing. “We thought this would be a fun way to spend the evening.”

His heart swelled, emotions bubbling up. He had been so caught up in work that he hadn't even realized how much he needed this—how much he needed them. They had taken the time to bring a piece of joy into his life, something he thought he had lost. He had missed seeing his family like this—happy, carefree, together.

His child tugged harder on his hand, pulling him toward the fort, his tiny face glowing with excitement. “Come on, Daddy! Come inside!”

With a soft laugh, he followed them, crawling through the opening of the blanket fort. The inside was warm and cozy, scented with the familiar smell of lavender and vanilla. The soft glow of the lantern flickered in the corner, casting gentle light on the mismatched blankets and pillows.

His kiddo had drawn mountains on paper with crayons, had hung them up on the "walls".

“This is amazing,” he murmured, his eyes flicking over the little space they had made. “I can’t believe you did all this.”

His child scrambled onto his lap once everyone was settled, curling up against him, his small body pressing into him like he couldn’t get close enough. He wrapped an arm around his child, his heart, instinctively, pulling him closer. He glanced up at you, who had settled next to them, and he meets your eyes.

“We wanted to make sure you knew that even though you didn’t get your break,” You said softly, “we’re still here. Together. It’s not the mountains, but… it’s something. And it’s ours.”

His throat tightened, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. The overwhelming weight of your words hit him hard. His family had thought about him, had made something to give him comfort, even when he hadn’t realized how badly he needed it. The quiet, tender love in their eyes made his chest ache, and he pulled them both closer without a second thought.

“This…” He swallowed hard, his voice rough. “This is exactly what I needed.”

You smiled gently, your hand resting on his, fingers intertwined with his in a simple, comforting gesture. “You’re more than enough. You do so much for us. We just wanted you to have something special.”

He pulled them all into a hug, holding them close. The small space of the fort was tight, but it didn’t matter. It felt right. It felt home. He didn’t care about the unfinished projects at work or the endless emails that waited for him the moment he stepped back out of the house. In this moment, with them—his heart full, his family by his side—nothing else mattered.

His little one was looking up at him with bright eyes. “Daddy, can we sleep in here tonight?” he asked, excitement still bubbling in their voice. “We can make s’mores!”

He chuckled, the sound light and free. “We can definitely make s’mores.”

You gave him a knowing look, eyes shining with love and a little mischief. “You know,” You said, voice teasing but soft, “we could even do the whole camping experience. Blankets for sleeping bags. Flashlight stories. Maybe we’ll even have some real camping in the future.”

His heart did a little flip at the thought. “That sounds perfect,” he whispered, squeezing both of them tighter. “We’ll make that happen. Together.”

For the rest of the evening, his family stayed in the fort, the three of them bundled in blankets, sharing stories, laughing, and simply enjoying the warmth of each other’s company. The world outside, with its demands and stresses, felt like it didn’t exist anymore.

In the dim light of the fort, surrounded by the people he loved most, he realized something he hadn’t fully understood before. No matter how hard he worked, no matter how many holidays he missed, it was moments like these that would stay with him. They were the moments that mattered most.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, he could finally relax, finally feel like he was home.

It's all he needed.

And he wouldn't trade it for the world.

⇝ 𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴, 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥! 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘶𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯

[inupibaldspot]

Back off,kid.

Pairing : Gojo Satoru x Reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : (Teen)Gojo is jealous over (kid) Fushiguro having a crush on you.

Fushiguro Megumi always wonders if he made the right choice every time a white-haired sunglass wearing teenager walks into the house.

The tall older boy would grin as his hands form a salute. “You doing good Megumi and Tsumiki?”

He was as useful as the indoor plants. Fushiguro thought.

Gojo wasn’t much good at cooking and neither helped with cleaning, probably because of his rich background—but he did spoil them with lots of food and pocket money but he wouldn’t ever admit that.

As much as Fushiguro would love to throw insults at Gojo, he holds back his tongue each time; Tsumiki would send sharp glare and nag him if he did.

The first friend he brought to visit them was a girl; it was after Gojo went missing for a while and when Tsumiki inquired about it ,he simply said one of his dear friend went cray-cray as his finger twirls at the temple of his head.

The girl had short, brown hair with a distinct smell of cigarette; her name was Shoko Ieiri. She wore an impressed look when she entered the house as she looked over to Gojo. “Heh— The place is pretty neat,Gojo.”

Fushiguro looked to Gojo who placed some groceries on the counter top with a proud smile on his face. “I know right!” Gojo replies.

The young boy frowns. “It’s Tsumiki who keeps the place clean.” Shoko gives Gojo a stare before she cackles.

A week later when Tsumiki was still in school with club activities, another person makes an appearance ,you. He could faintly hear conversations between you and Gojo through the front door on how you’d actually wanted to visit them sooner but was bombarded with mission before it swings open.

The first thing Fushiguro noticed was how Gojo seemed to make you enter first— other times he barges in without a care for Shoko— his hands near your back with a slight space, without touching it. Why was Gojo being nice?

You blink at the dark haired boy. “Fushiguro Megumi, right?” Gojo peers from behind as you smile. “Did you eat?”

“Not yet. Waiting for Tsumiki to get home.” Fushiguro thinks you’re the first person who is kind of decent.

You nod take plastic bag from Gojo’s hands and lift up it, your smile widen. “I’ll make you some good stuff then.”

“I want to eat your cooking too,y/n.” Gojo chirps in only to be ignored. And to your credit, it was actually good. He didn’t remember the last time he had something this good home made.

After that, your visits seemed to increase which Fushiguro Megumi did not mind, in fact he was getting fond of your presence. You helped with food, cleaning which lessened the load on Tsumiki plus you also helped him with his studies.

“You seemed to get it now, Megumi.” Poor kid, blushes a bit hearing your compliment. “Practice this set of questions and I think you’ll do pretty well on your tests.” You smile.

Fushiguro nods as he does as you say, face still heated up. He looks up at you, who was reading a book. Your hair slightly in your face, lips slightly parted with eyes focused. You were extremely beautiful and as much as he wouldn’t admit it , he had a big fat kid crush on you.

“Megumi-chan.” Suddenly he is shoved to the side as a body makes way in between you and him. It was Gojo who sat in between. “Move over~ This seat is mine.”

The boy frowns and so did you, not liking Gojo’s action. “Don’t interrupt the kid, who is studying.” Kid? Ouch…You huff as your move over, despite you complaining you make space for him, focus back on your book.

Fushiguro watched as Gojo leans closer to you, almost resting his head on your neck as he looked over to your book; after a while eyes slowly moved over to you, his expression softens.

Gojo smiles as he tugs a piece of hair behind your hair, to which you don’t react as if it was normal. Thee older man then turns his head to Fushiguro—oops,he got caught staring.

The white haired boy then grins, a condescending one in fact as he mouths out the following words.

‘y/n-is-mine.” Fushiguro huffs. ‘back-off.”

·:*¨༺ Part 2༻¨*:·

Reblogs, like and comment are appreciated! Love this work? out other here